by Stefon Mears
“Do not move her until I say,” Ehren said, checking Reesa’s eyes and nodding to himself.
Reesa blinked, frowned. Tried to speak, and winced.
Amra collected the fallen short swords.
“With your permission,” Ehren said, and when Reesa nodded, he quickly and tenderly checked her ribs and her ankle.
“Shouldn’t be too bad,” Amra said, “she dodges well.”
“Foot’s bad,” Ehren said, already pulling bandages and herbs from his seemingly bottomless leather backpack. “Ribs are bruised, front and back. Think you avoided getting them cracked. But that foot has at least two broken bones.”
But Ehren nodded at Cavan, and Cavan knelt and drew Reesa’s head onto his lap. He pulled the helmet off to stroke her sweat-dampened hair.
“Knew you were a good dancer,” Cavan said with a lopsided smile, trying to distract Reesa while Ehren set about his work, beginning with unlacing her boot.
Reesa tried to smile, but it came out a grimace.
“That is my daughter!”
Draig’s voice, over the hubbub of the crowd, which even now the town watch was dispersing.
“And I’m sure she’s proud of that,” Amra said, turning to face the Speaker, “even if I wouldn’t be. But what she needs right now is a healer, not a lecture.”
Cavan looked up to see Draig surrounded by his hard-looking personal guard. Those were definitely men who’d survived their share of battles and had the scars to prove it.
No wonder Amra was taunting.
Reesa grabbed both Cavan’s hands and squeezed.
Draig’s voice sounded tight enough to snap, when he responded.
“While I’m sure that this priest of Zatafa here has the best of intentions, his efforts are not needed. My daughter’s wounds will be treated by our house priest, and she will convalesce in the privacy of her own home. Now all of you, step aside.”
“Reesa?” Amra called without looking away from Draig. “You want to go with Daddy? Or do you want Cavan’s best friend to heal you?”
“The choice is not hers to make,” Draig said, even as Reesa said, “I am honored to be treated by Ehren.”
Cavan looked for that town watch sergeant from last night, but saw only Draig’s personal guards standing nearby. A half dozen of them, in oiled chainmail, hands ready on the pommels of their broadswords.
Qalas seemed to have noted that as well. He’d subtly shifted his footing, as well as his grip on his halberd.
“Reesa,” Cavan said softly, “I think I better stand.”
Reesa’s brow looked troubled, but she nodded and released Cavan’s hands.
He eased her head down onto her helm, and stood.
“Ah, the coward himself,” Draig said.
“I’m pretty sure my honor came out of that duel all right,” Cavan said with a shrug. “How about yours, Draig? Seems to me you were going to lose either way.”
“I want you all out of my town by midday,” Draig said. “If any of you are still here past the apex of Zatafa’s glory, I swear I will make you regret it. And I can.”
Amra drew breath to speak, but Cavan got words out first.
“Only too happy to oblige,” Cavan said, with a slight bow that could only be taken as mockery. “Ehren, will Reesa be able to ride by afternoon? Or will we require a cart?”
“Oh, not a cart,” Amra said. “We’ll be forever getting anywhere.”
“Cart would be better,” Ehren said, “but I can speed things up if we need to.”
He started digging in his backpack.
Draig gave Cavan an oily smile.
“You seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that my daughter will be accompanying you. She will not.”
“Reesa,” Cavan said, without looking away from Draig. “Last night you said you craved to see the world beyond the borders of this town. And as you defended my honor today, it seems the very least I could do for you would be to escort you on the road to somewhere more to your liking. Would you care to ride with us when we leave today?”
“I can think of nothing I want more.”
That Amra did not reply to that sentence with innuendo was a fact that Cavan could only interpret as meaning she expected a fight. He noticed she’d shifted her grip on Reesa’s short swords, so the blades lay flat along her forearms.
Cavan smelled the distinctive scent of an orange being peeled. That meant that Ehren considered the situation important enough to use one of his blessed oranges, which would speed Reesa’s healing dramatically.
“I believe the matter is settled,” Cavan said.
“I assure you,” Draig said, “it is not.”
Draig nodded to his guards.
Looked as though, once more, Amra was right.
Six hardened guards, spreading out in the early morning light. The cobblestones of the town square all but empty now, save for the two groups: Draig and his guards, and Cavan and his friends.
Strange that the rest of the Council of Drien vanished so quickly. But then, Kolsach was gone as well. And Cavan had no time to worry about any of them right then.
More concerning was that the town watch, after busily clearing away the crowd from the duel, seemed content to have gone back to their duties. Which apparently did not involve stopping this little dispute.
Then again, members of the watch had to live in this town. Cavan had the impression that Draig enjoyed making life difficult for those who interfered with his wishes.
Draig would wait though. His guards were more important, just at the moment.
And Cavan had noticed something.
Yes, those guards looked lean and mean and scarred. Yes, their chainmail was oiled and ready, and their broadswords looked to have seen much use.
But something about the look of those men, or maybe the way they moved, suggested to Cavan that their scars were old scars. That maybe serving as Draig’s personal guard meant few opportunities for real action.
That maybe it had been some time since those guards had seen the kind of challenges warriors needed to keep their skills as sharp as their swords. After all, training could go only so far.
Interesting…
All six of Draig’s guards started to pull their swords.
“No!” Ehren cried out. “We have a wounded woman right here, and she’s not ready to move. Do you want to step on her?”
“He has a point,” Cavan said, not yet drawing his own sword.
Amra, Cavan noticed, had not dropped Reesa’s short swords nor gone for her own two-handed blade. She might have been letting Cavan take the lead here, or she might have had a plan. Hard to be sure which.
Could have been both, knowing her.
Qalas simply adjusted his grip on his halberd. He had a ready look in his eyes.
“Ehren is right,” Cavan said to Draig, ignoring the now-drawn blades of the guards and focusing on their master. “We start a fight right here, you know someone might step on your daughter. Or fall on her. Or bleed on her. Just how much risk do you want to put her to this morning?”
“She risks herself,” Draig said. “She’s disobeyed me at every turn.”
“Father!” Reesa said, and her voice sounded stronger, less tight than it had before Ehren had given her one of those miraculous healing oranges.
“You have defied me before the whole of Drien. You wish to ride with these wanderers? Then you can fall with them.”
Draig turned away.
The first of the guards started to raise his sword.
Before that blade had moved a fingerspan, Amra was already in motion.
She dove between two guards, thrusting Reesa’s short swords into the slight gaps under their belts, between those guards’ hauberks and leggings. Straight into the flesh underneath.
And Amra left the swords in her wake, as those guards went down, screaming.
Qalas followed Amra’s movement, only a fraction of a beat behind. He stabbed at the nearest guard with the tip of his halberd. Enough
strength behind the thrust that the guard had to sidestep as well as parry to keep himself unstabbed.
But Qalas whirled with the parry.
The guard lunged for what he thought was an opening. But his sword was too far out of line. His blow a little too slow.
Qalas struck while still spinning. All his momentum and strength working together. He slammed the steel-wrapped handle of his halberd across his foe’s head.
That guard went down, and just like that, there were three.
Cavan stepped away from Reesa. Drew his sword. Slowly. Made a point of it.
Amra drew her own sword at the same pace. The same synchronicity of movements and sounds. Amra’s and Cavan’s own little way of reminding these guards just how many times they’d fought side-by-side.
Not to mention how recently.
Qalas could not quite match the movement or sound with his halberd, but he made a show of raising it in the same moment, bringing the axe head to menace another guard.
The two guards on the ground continued to cry out in pain.
“That’s half your number,” Cavan said simply, “and we haven’t even begun. Her sword and mine? We’ll cut through that mail like you were naked.”
Cavan tilted his sword to show the orange and red swirls along the blade, trusting that experienced warriors would recognize the dune elf metal.
“So,” Cavan said. “Are you sure you wish to meet your gods today?”
“Every man meets the gods when they call for him,” one of the guards answered. Apparently the leader. Certainly, he had the most scars. Three on his face alone, and another on his neck that dipped down past his collar. “And now that you’ve stepped away from the Speaker’s daughter—”
That guard leapt at Cavan, sword high and ready.
Cavan slipped past the attack, while metal rang out as the remaining guards tried their luck with Amra and Qalas.
Amra’s screamed and fell before Cavan even had time to finish his first strike.
Cavan’s guard was quick, and skilled. He had his sword up for a parry that should have set up a counterattack. But his steel, while decent, could not stand against licha. Sparks danced and spat as the steel broadsword groaned and lost some of its blade.
The guard might have known what licha was, but he’d clearly never seen it in action before. He lost a critical moment, eyes flicking in surprise at the sight of the sparks shooting off his blade. Wincing at the heat of those shavings bouncing off his skin.
Cavan took that moment. Slipped in close. Slammed the hilt of his sword against the man’s temple, and dropped him to the cobblestones.
“He does take forever in a fight, doesn’t he?” Qalas said to Amra, almost matching her smirk.
“Well, he’s only half a warrior, remember,” Amra said. “If Ehren hadn’t lectured him and lectured him about how spells are illegal in this town, no doubt he would have just thrown a spell and brought his guard down as fast as … well … faster than he did, anyway.”
All six of Draig’s guards were on the ground now. Four were bleeding, wounded badly, and two were at least unconscious from blows to the head.
“I suggest you call that healer of yours,” Cavan said to the open-mouthed Draig. “All of these men might yet live, and our friend Ehren is a touch busy right now.”
“Help!” Draig yelled out, drawing his sword but making no move to fight. “Town watch! These people just butchered my guards and threatened my life.”
Amra gave Cavan a significant look as they could hear someone echo that cry.
“Ehren,” Cavan said, “can she—”
“No, you’ll have to carry her.”
Cavan sheathed his sword and scooped up Reesa while Amra collected Reesa’s short swords.
And they all took off running for their inn.
“I told you to bring the horses,” Cavan grumbled.
Cavan expected to be bringing up the rear on the run back to the inn, but he didn’t.
Amra was out front, Reesa’s short swords in her hands, but the blades tucked against her forearms to avoid seeming a threat. No doubt her eyes scanning for danger.
Qalas was right behind her, halberd up and ready, but not threatening anyone just at the moment.
Cavan came third in their little parade, cradling Reesa in his arms. Reesa, for her part, looked irritated that she had to be carried. But she did not struggle. She clung to Cavan, perhaps trying to lighten her own weight.
Ehren followed last, as much to keep rear guard as to keep an eye on his patient.
The hue and cry from the town watch came slower than Cavan expected — perhaps because of how quickly they cleared the town square for Draig’s little attempted murder — but it did come.
And watchmen were following all too soon.
Fortunately, Cavan and his friends ran well enough that they were able to keep just ahead of the hue and cry. They were able to keep at least a small lead on their pursuers.
Unfortunately, even that lead would only last until they reached the inn.
And they were almost there.
The inn in question was Mountainfall, one of the few two-story buildings on its block, with its own stables in the back, and entirely too much open space around it.
As with all the streets in this town, no two buildings were built close together. Cavan had never seen a town so obsessed with open space, and right now it would only cause more problems for him.
“Ready the horses,” Ehren called. “I’ll throw down our things.”
But before he could head for the solid wooden front door under the sign of rocks falling down a mountainside, mist rose up as though from the ground itself.
“Cavan?” Amra called quickly, drawing her sword.
“Not mine,” Cavan said, as the mist rose swiftly, obscuring all sight.
He knew the spell. Had used it many times himself. Wished he’d cast it right then, so he could have opened his own eyes, and those of his friends, to that mist so that it would not prove a barrier.
“The mist is mine.” The voice came over from where Cavan knew the stables to be. It was a woman’s voice tempered with maturity, but still full of strength.
“Maran?” Reesa asked.
“Here, child.”
“It’s safe,” Reesa said. “The town wizard is an old friend.”
A tunnel opened in the mist, leading the way to the stables. A tunnel that closed behind Cavan and his friends as they followed it.
Now that was a trick Cavan couldn’t have accomplished.
Amra and Qalas led the way, weapons ready, but Cavan and Ehren stayed only a step behind.
If Cavan had not noticed her fairly impressive aura of power, he might have mistaken Maran for an innkeeper. She had that kind of matronly look, as of a woman who enjoyed life, and let it enjoy her.
She stood scarcely tall enough to reach the center of Cavan’s chest, and she wore robes of rich red velvet. She had graying chestnut hair that fell in a braid over her right shoulder. Her reddened cheeks dimpled as she smiled at Reesa.
Amra and Qalas stepped past Maran to ready the horses, leaving the wizard for Cavan to deal with.
“I trust,” Maran said before Cavan could speak, “you’ll forgive me for having your horses readied. I suspected there might be a hasty exit after the duel.”
Surest sign of a full wizard, Cavan thought with a touch of self-deprecation. Always two moves ahead.
“There’s a fifth horse tacked and ready,” Qalas called out. “A black mare courser. Young.”
“Horizon?” Reesa said, her whole expression filling with hope.
The mare whinnied in response.
Cavan could hear shouts from the streets. Some saying the murderers had fled one direction, some claiming another.
“Of course,” Maran said. “You cannot leave without your steed, silly girl. Much less your bow, and provisions.”
Cavan carried Reesa to the black courser and helped her mount while Maran explained.
“Your father is not the worst Speaker this town has seen, but his ambition will be his end. And I won’t see him take you down with him, sweet thing.”
“Thank you, Maran!” Reesa said, giving the older wizard a strong hug, while Cavan mounted his blue roan hobby, Dzint. “But won’t Father come after you for this?”
“Let him try. I’ve served this town far longer than he has, and I’ve faced worse than your father. Now. If the road isn’t all you dream it to be,” Maran said, tone full of warning, “I suggest you visit your cousins in Sarkis. Write me from there and I will help you decide your next move.”
“While that’s lovely and all,” Amra said, from the back of her own bay hobby, Caramel — who apparently had been reshod — “I don’t relish riding these cobblestones through a thick mist.”
“Nor shall you,” Maran said picking up a cup that rested on the edge of Horizon’s stall. She muttered words of power while flicking water at each of them and their horses. Cavan couldn’t hear much of the spell, but he recognized a conjugation of the verb Zeh, which was the verb he would have used to call a mist from the barrels of water about town.
As soon as Maran’s flicked water touched Cavan, the mist seemed to vanish.
“I suggest you ride west and cross the river before turning on your way. The whole town believes you are traveling north, so Draig will position guards to the north and the south first. Leave now and you should have time to leave town safely.”
“Thank you, wise one,” Cavan said, addressing her as the more advanced wizard she was.
“Take care of this one, and I’ll count it thanks enough,” Maran said.
And then they were on the move.
Cavan led the way through the streets, having determined the fastest ways out of town during last night’s wanderings.
Reesa followed, on Horizon, then Amra on Caramel. Ehren came next, on his blond chestnut hobby, Highsun. Qalas brought up the rear on his buckskin rouncey, Ondiq.
Cavan had worried for a moment that the sound of their hooves would give them away. But it seemed that Maran had thought of that as well.
No sooner were Cavan and his friends riding than he heard the sound of riders going every which way at a full gallop. What town watchmen Cavan saw looked more confused and scattered than likely to pursue.