The Mark of Gold

by A. S. Etaski

  Next, he jammed both blades into the ground and began dragging them as he took off into a sprint, scoring the earth in a double line with him in between, sending up clean clouds of dust. His lips were moving, words tumbling in a growling purr underneath the imminent howling.

  He was half-finished before I realized he drew a massive, oblong circle around us.

  “Sirana,” Gavin said. “I need your aid.”

  I ripped my eyes from the half-blood’s progress to where my death mage crouched next to another dead horse. “Of course. Tell me.”

  “Interrupt the corruption for the stallion, as you did Kurn. I shall use their bodies to defend us.”

  That thought was more unsettling than the Witch Hunters arriving outside the shed, but I acted without hesitation. Sulkily, the dagger sucked out the festering Vitas after I laid it naked upon the bulky, cooling flesh.

  “Castis’s vial?” I asked.

  “I have it,” Gavin replied, glancing where Kurn’s sword had fallen. “Retrieve that. His corpse can wield it.”

  Sucking spinnerets.

  The moment the dagger had finished its snack, I withdrew to give the Deathwalker space to work and picked up Kurn’s long sword. It was heavier than it looked, especially compared to the relic. The tip dipped down to the ground and, since I couldn’t hold it with both hands, I didn’t fight it.

  “Uunshoa prienatyi,” Gavin uttered behind me.

  I glanced back. The pale man had opened his vein again and was dripping a steady stream of viscous blood onto the corpses of Castis, Kurn, and the stallion, focusing on the eyes, mouth, and the holes left behind by those black, vanishing arrows.

  Looking at those wounds, I wondered where the merc had dropped his bow and quiver, tensely waiting for the inevitable combat with my short but powerful weapon. My attention cycled between Gavin raising his new bodyguards, the Davrin-beast pacing his circle around us, Soul Drinker’s eager giggling, and the reckless charge shaking the brush and snapping any wood that hadn’t turned to something else.

  Hurry, you two…

  My ears popped on a suck of magic when the circle was closed. The golden-eyed fighter stood inside with us as Gavin calmly instructed three familiar corpses to heave themselves stiffly to their feet. I handed Kurn’s sword to Gavin, who presented it to the undead Ma’ab, laid flat across both palms. It was surreal how Kurn accepted it without word or sneer to the maknuut.

  ~Hellhound’s not so ugly when he is quiet like this.~

  The relic cackled in agreement.

  “What happens, death mage,” asked the merc with a test twirl of one blade, “when the cannibals bite these servants?”

  “The rot collides with my magic and will unravel,” Gavin answered simply.

  The half-blood nodded, again gauging our remaining time as my nerves pulled drawstring tight. “A shifting barricade while you cast a wider net from behind them?”

  “That is the plan.”

  “Good.”

  I listened the best I could but thought my breath through the cloth was too quick. With Kurn’s and Castis’s dark eyes as empty as an Ornilleth thrall preparing for battle; with innumerable cries heralding the incoming onslaught over the next hill; with the forest transforming into a lake of sickly-sweet flesh and waves upon waves bearing down on us before my eyes, I might have vomited from fear alone were it not for Soul Drinker as my anchor.

  *Claim my share, Red Sister, all I can consume, and you will be well.*

  So be it.

  “Watch my space, Baenar,” growled the half-blood, displaying his massive reach.

  Surprised, I stepped back, resisting the urge to fold my arms in front of me. ~Baenar? What is a Baenar?~

  *Something else your queen has forgotten?* the dagger cooed. *He’s insulting you, what else?*

  “The circle will slow them, not stop them,” the half-blood continued, giving me orders. “Take any cannibal pushing against the second boundary. Above all, keep them from reaching your mage. It is crucial that you cover his blind sides.”

  “Understood,” I said tensely. Elder Rausery taught us that.

  Gavin glanced at me. “Use the thunderstones if you must. They can be as effective as anything I can do clearing out an area.”

  “They didn’t work against Kurn or his horse,” I challenged.

  “They were intact,” he returned brusquely.

  Implying all these naked bodies I spotted weaving through the green-white haze were not.

  The mercenary narrowed his eyes at us, disliking this idea as much as I did, but he did not protest.

  “How many stones?” he demanded instead.

  I tried not to look straight at what was coming for us. “Nine.”

  I think.

  He nodded. “Try to wait. Call a count for each you throw.”

  That was Jaunda’s advice, too.

  Helps you think, Blue Eyes. When things get noisy, don’t stay quiet.

  Not even the flayers’ thralls in superior numbers had been this loud.

  The cannibals spilled into the small clearing, stumbling and climbing over each other without heed. Once pale-skinned Humans, they’d become emaciated, greenish, and outright putrid; their eyes were universally fogged over. Their yawning, lipless mouths revealed teeth either broken, missing, or growing like antlers jutting in blatantly wrong ways from their jaws. Their limbs were mismatched; some clawed the air with filthy, overgrown fingers, waved and grasped with constricting, boneless tentacles, or kicked and punched with hardened nubs or hooves in any color.

  I refused to see remnants of Gaelan among them.

  *Trust what you see is real,* the relic cooed.

  My nostril curled. Like last time one of these things charged me.

  Before we would see if the ritual of protection had worked, the merc crossed his blades in front of him, lifting them close to his mouth. The rumble pouring from his lips carried well despite the crescendo of screams.

  “Kayo pabixen.”

  A ball of orange light formed where the two blades met, swelling large and becoming opaque. Meanwhile, Gavin chose his first targets as a black, ethereal chain appeared beyond the border and wrapped two cannibals together, dragging them within range of Kurn’s sword. He skewered them as one, dropped then writhing on the ground, turning to dust as further feet, hooves, and coils trampled them.

  The masses had reached the boundary.

  The mercenary pulled his crossed blades apart with great force, his arms thrown wide, grip on each sword tight as he stepped forward in a lunge. The orange ball followed the edges as they slid against each other, gaining momentum as the caster made a motion like a swordsvrin flinging blood or water from her weapons onto whomever was in front.

  The magical glob struck the first misshapen body then splattered over the nearest five pressing at the circle; it stuck like tar and set them ablaze. The magical fire on decaying flesh was effective but horrible to breathe; I was glad for the cloth mask.

  The fighter-mage did not wait for the full effects to play out before he spun both weapons thrice and took two low swipes at the masses, severing what passed for legs on no less than twelve attackers. This hampered them severely as grey flakes began dropping off their undeterred stumps.

  The half-blood let them crumble, aimed at another cluster, and barked another word of magic. Something invisible knocked five of them backward, and he followed up by opening his mouth wide, spraying them with a clear liquid from beneath his tongue. Their hideous faces instantly melted before sending them to ash.

  My eyes were stuck at their widest to witness all this. The beast-Elf was full of magic within his full control. Wherever this dark-skinned half-blood had come from, whoever had made him, and for whatever reason he roamed the Surface, I could guess his Mothers had considered the consequences as carefully as the Priestesses did with their demon-sons or the tainted Consorts.

  That was to say, not very much.

 
*I’m waaaiting!* the hungry dagger bawled.

  I flinched and growled in my throat. ~I’m not crowding the mages, but there are too many. They’ll surround the circle soon enough.~

  *Better be soon.*

  It would be. I hoped.

  The corrupted bodies piled on each other ten deep and were beginning to slide along the curve drawn in the ground. As they did, Kurn’s corpse was covering Gavin’s left flank while Castis and the stallion were on the right. Under the Deathwalker’s control, each effectively shored up the strain on several spots of the magic circle while Gavin continued casting spells. I sought signs of exhaustion in him, for no mage could focus and set one’s body under such strain indefinitely, but I wasn’t sure where the weakness was for him in this new form.

  Meanwhile, I knew that I should be exhausted and light-headed now. I should have eaten long ago and drained my waterskin. But no, I felt strong, and I waited for the best opportunity to come to me.

  For an instant, I focused on the broad back of the stranger, and my arm lifted the dagger, my hand turning it, prepared to throw.

  I stopped in place.

  Now I was sick, and I dropped to the ground.

  *Aww.*

  I gasped for air behind the mask, swallowing down bile as one arm crossed over my gut. ~Now who’s the fool, Soul Drinker? You will only kill your carrier if you go against my Queen.~

  *Curse your Queen! To the ice pit with Braqth!*

  “Sirana?” Gavin asked. He’d noticed me on my knees.

  I scrambled to my feet. “I’m well! Focus!”

  He did not question while the two Ma’ab corpses and the horse were slowly torn apart by the roiling chaos upon the border. The wait was excruciating from there. I stood dead center of the circle as hundreds of warp thralls arrived seeking a weakness around the circle, and the dagger and I were out of reach of every single one of them.

  The death mage and the mysterious half-Elf cut down over half of the things quickly, their corruption untangled before they got halfway around the circle. Eventually, I realized this was because the two mages shared one half of the circle and I was at the center. There was nothing to draw them behind us; the chaos creatures displayed no strategy at all.

  *So draw them back! Move away from the mercenary and lure them to the other side!*

  ~Bad idea. Their approach is controlled, and the circle holds.~

  *And he takes all the glory! He makes you look weak! Act! Fight! Step back!*

  I stepped back, then stopped only with supreme effort as I imagined Rausery would give this same order. I grasped the tactics, and I watched the carnage, listening to Soul Drinker complaining, taunting me, and berating me.

  *Clearly, the weakest here is you, Red Sister! Without me, you are as helpless as your pitiful sister you seek!*

  A stabbing pain entered the left side of my head and lingered as my eyes watered. I couldn’t shut out the voice, couldn’t muffle it as I had before. I was no longer certain I could sheath it. ~You act like a First Daughter.~

  *Good! You need guidance! You waste the strength I’m offering you!*

  No escape from this cursed blade.

  I took that ground I’d given then held myself in place to keep the attack coming from one side. The warp creatures climbed upon each other’s backs, three bodies tall and somehow beginning to meld together, focused on and looming over the mercenary, who revealed yet another trick about his exotic weapons.

  The half-blood moved three steps away from Gavin and fearlessly close to the wriggling wall of warp rot, and something clicked on each of his weapons. He continued to swing and twirl them about himself, and I witnessed how far his arc of attack extended even beyond where it had been.

  The hilts were no longer static; these were not merely a set of double-ended swords. The grips each slid freely along a single-piece blade long as the merc’s arm. The flared tips on each end prevented the hilt from separating from the sword as he used them.

  While his motions were fluid and constant, he could adjust for either an exceptionally long reach or a shorter one, dancing smoothly from his first move to his second. A practiced opponent would’ve been hard pressed to predict exactly how far the cutting edge would reach during any singular swing.

  Undeterred by the change, the tower of cannibals was cut into four pieces in short order. Several in the rear were beheaded without having reached the double line, and the number of bodies landing at once increased two-fold. They steamed and sizzled in collapse, and the piles of grey ash and dust gradually became a third line, then a mound which might become a bank with fewer feet to scatter it. A grey cloud had since lifted into the air, drifting through the woods and obscuring distance.

  With the surge demolished, I heard the same two clicks again, and the twin blades seized in place, ceasing to slide, once again the balanced, double-ended swords with which he’d begun.

  *Envious?* sneered the demon.

  ~Not really, cunt.~

  It squealed in glee. *Plenty use yours whether you will it or no! Use me and do your part!*

  The mercenary kept going as I watched Gavin’s meat shield at last break down, as Kurn and Castis became pieces and lumps under clawing, twisted limbs, gnawed on by broken sentients with inhuman teeth. The Deathwalker darted in to snatch Kurn’s sword from the border and retreated, his balance unsteady before he caught himself.

  I stepped toward him. “Gavin?”

  “Take over,” he said, his muscles tired although he didn’t gasp for breath as I did. “I must rest. We’re almost done…for now.”

  I scanned the forest. He was right. Almost.

  *Now?!*

  ~Now.~

  Soul Drinker screamed as loud as the cannibals as I sprinted forward to fill the gap in defense. My reach could not extend beyond the first line, but I quickly learned it did not matter where I punctured or slashed them; anywhere would do, and the unraveling began the instant after.

  Although I had feared these once-sentients would pass their memories through me on their way out, as Kurn had, I experienced nothing stronger than an ethereal wail fading seconds after the physical one. Some collapsed and laid over either one line or both, still shuddering as they broke down.

  “Be wary, it’s weakening,” the merc ground out.

  Yes, bua, I can see that.

  The chaos force was shrinking fast, and merc and I had less distance to stay out of each other’s draw while avoiding a trip over fast-decaying limbs and torsos. We were breathing hard through our face masks spattered with gore and foul-smelling fluids; my muscles burned from the sudden and intense effort, but I was not even close to finished.

  *More!* the relic cried joyously. *More, oh, yes, my wielder, you are worthy!*

  I rolled my eyes and kept stabbing, letting the frustration and fears collect at the point of my blade. My vision blurred as I took another and another, and I continuously blinked to clear it. Up close like this, I didn’t see anything that looked like Gaelan.

  Tear them up. Put them down. Dig up the roots so this can’t keep growing.

  The chorus of threats was dampened, and as the last bodies broke the circle to scramble into protected ground at the end of the battle, Gavin was there with Kurn’s sword to run through those I couldn’t catch. The relic complained bitterly about this, but its fever-pitched railing could not make my heart race any faster at this point.

  Finally, the last body fell face first into the dust and broke down. My ears felt numb in the following quiet. I didn’t believe it was real.

  Shaking and gasping, I tilted my head at the long sword in Gavin’s hands. “Surprised… you can lift that.”

  “Only with both hands,” Gavin agreed. “Effective only against opponents as untrained as I am.”

  “Mm-hm. Beyond what I could do.”

  *Just wait! Hehehe!*

  To our right, the mercenary turned his ears in various directions before securing his filthy blades on hi
s back and using a rough, bare foot to break the circles and wipe out part of them. I took that as a good sign we were safe for the moment.

  In fact, the more I studied, the wider the sane path seemed to be, extending far beyond any spell Gavin or Castis had flung into the trees. The corrupted pit Kurn’s mount had fallen into was not only gone, but I could not see where it had been. Looking up, I could see a glimpse of grey sky through the thick branches.

  “Catch your breath,” said the merc. “We cannot stay long, but we can withdraw again to this point if we must.”

  I nodded in vague agreement, looking twice before grasping that Gavin was staring at me. I growled at him, “What?”

  “Your aura is changing,” he said bluntly. “I cannot tell if it is the forest alone, but there is less…”

  “Less what?”

  “Less contrast between them. Greater similarity.”

  A bizarre feeling spread from the back of my neck, and I noticed the half-blood was paying focused attention to the death mage and what he’d said.

  *Ohh, the buas think you’re unstable! Hehe!*

  I snarled, “So? That’s good. You said I would be the one best suited to throw the vials at the quartz center! I will complete my Sister’s mission. You can stay back, monk.”

  “On the contrary,” the ugly man countered without blinking, “it’s not ‘good’ if your aura attunes to chaos now when it was not before.”

  I mocked his expression but hesitated at his wording. Attunes…

  *Not to worry, the Deathwalker is wrong again. That is you, me, and the Ridhian strengthening together. He fears you becoming powerful. But you shall soon be free of your compulsion and do as you wish! You can look for your sisters without needing to follow this half-breed!*

  When I didn’t respond aloud, Gavin looked at the mercenary. “Would you trade the sapphire for the ruby? It is of greater aid to her than you.”

  *Heh heh heh.*

  “Gavin, shut up,” I growled. “That’s not yours to say.”

  Yet the creature considered it as if it were, his tail sweeping a small pile of grey dust to one side. “Potentially, I would.”

  “Liar,” I accused. “You wanted the ruby first!”