A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One

by D. N. Woodward

  When Reed and Olwena came to a stop for a third time in as many minutes, Leon gave Rezz his reins and went to investigate their delay.

  “Good, now push here and here.”

  “Like this?”

  “Yes, see how that limb there pointed in the right direction from the start? It does the work of covering the gap doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, wow, that’s much easier than bending the others…”

  “What are you two doing?” Leon could see his friend’s young owl twisting its neck from side to side from its perch as Reed worked at something before him.

  “What does it look like boy? We’re blocking off the paths behind us through this Needlebrush.” She gave a soft chortle. “It’s something our pursuers won’t be expecting. The power of growth is a rare gift among the Bladed. I’ve only ever heard stories of others with such a blessing!”

  Reed was oblivious to her praise, still concentrating on the task before him. Leon tried leaning over a shoulder to watch what he was doing. Even from within the dim starlight filtering down through the forest canopy, he could see the branches of a large and thorny brush twisting and growing, closing off any easy access through behind the path they traveled.

  Amazing!

  Reed had said he could help things grow over time, but this was different level stuff! “That’s incredible! Way to go Reed.”

  Olwena smacked his shoulder, “He’s just doing what needs done. Get back up there with the group, child. We’ll be along soon enough.”

  Leon rubbed his shoulder. That old woman was as thorny as the prickles on the bushes below. Still though, it was good to know they had an edge.

  Reed kept right on working with Olwena continuing right there at his side, coaching him in that sharp cutting voice of hers. Reed didn’t seem to mind though. He soaked up every word like an old bull on a salt lick.

  After a few more hours of a slow slog through thick pockets of brush, the forest around them faded. The trees stood smaller and less clustered. Eventually, the group broke free of the heavy canopy. Though the light was limited, they felt a thrill stepping out into a true end to the forest. Leon could see tall grass swaying in the wind and disappearing out of sight beyond a small rise further north.

  “We did it! We made it to the Somber trail!” Olwena seemed so surprised it made Leon suspect she wasn’t quite as sure of their escape as she let on when the race first began.

  “Where to now Olwena? You said east?”

  “Yes, the Somber River turns more north than west as you head upriver. The path that direction narrows dangerously close to the woods the further west you move, but it widens as one moves east.”

  “East it is!”

  “Sved, how do we get to your lands from here?” Leon was curious to know.

  “We cross the Somber, yes? I’m not sure how far west we traveled on our run from the Vin, but I think we should continue east for a few days, at least before we turn north once more.”

  Their path settled, the weary travelers turned east. Everyone was bone-weary, but no one wanted to risk sleeping so close to Wild Forest. Leon was comforted that they carried plenty of food on the pack bird. They all had a chance to scarf down an early morning breakfast or hard bread and dry fruit as they moved along.

  A full and beautiful sunrise broke through a dotted horizon several hours later. Rich green grass swayed in the morning breeze and dew twinkled on the needles of the nearby evergreen trees, glistening in the first light of dawn. The mottled collection of clouds in the sky created a brilliant tapestry for color. It was as if a wide-open canvas bled forth above, from muted gray into brilliant pinks and majestic purples all of which paved the way for the first rays of the morning sun.

  Leon turned back to look behind them. There he spied a towering mountain range in the distance. The words of one of Gus’ most cherished songs came surging up to the tip of his tongue.

  "I've seen the morning burning golden on the mountain in the skies.' Never knew what that really meant until now," Leon whispered in English.

  While Reed was the only one who understood what he said, the others seemed to know what he meant. They all slowed to a stop, basking in the imperfect perfection of the scenery before them.

  Then, misfortune, the sorry mistress that she was, decided to rear her ugly head once more. A sharp voice cut through the gentle breeze and shattered the quiet tranquility, “Stay exactly as you are!”

  A small missile struck Rezz in the arm when he attempted to heft his longbow. The bow fell and Rezz sank to his knees in agony, holding his injured shoulder. From quite a distance away, and all around them, Fae warriors rose up out of the long grass. Each one swung a long thin leather strap above his head, just itching for someone else to make a move.

  Olwena hung her head and mouthed silent protests, while the rest of the group help up their arms in surrender. Leon called out to Merle and the cubs. They stood down as well.

  The Fae leader laughed at her dejection as he approached their group. “You useless old wretch, did you really think you could slip through the fingers of true Fae so easily? Look at me!” She lifted her chin to meet their captor’s eyes, before he continued, “We have tolerated your fool-hearted sympathies for far too long, but no more!” He rolled the next words in his mouth, savoring their flavor before spitting them out at her through a cruel smile. “You are deemed a traitor to the Kingdom and will join the others in the Hunt tonight.”

  “Gladly.” Her answer was spoken softly. It was the only response Olwena gave.

  “It was all a lie, wasn’t it? The banquet, the honor, everything! Do you even know what that word means, honor?” Disdain came dripping from his tongue as Reed addressed the men he had so recently considered "his people."

  The man laughed even harder, before slapping him across the face, knocking Reed to his knees, “The irony you fool is that we would have gladly taken you in.” His smile disappeared, “Better that we all now know the truth of the matter - you were never worthy of the secrets of the Endless Forest! Still, you will serve us in your own way. Take them to the trees and secure them at the edge of the wood! Someone, get a cook-fire going and get me some grub. It was a merry chase, but that was just the appetizer boys!”

  Chapter 20

  The morning passed quietly. It wasn’t until late afternoon that the first few Fae hounds, hauling bits of the Convergence tack, came trickling into the new camp. A drafty breeze birthed a windy gust, which could soon be heard bending branches as it rustled through the trees above. The winds soon brought a chill that blew cool as dark clouds rolled in from the north. A storm could be seen in the distance, surging down off the mountain peaks, coming hard for the forest’s edge.

  Haddie spoke up over the building storm, “I take it they must have guessed where we were heading from the very start. I just don't get how they guess so quickly! Olwena?”

  “Should have crossed the river when we had the chance, yes?” Sved added.

  “It’s getting late, almost dark. Hey, Olwena, what are they planning?” Leon asked.

  Only the old woman didn’t answer. Gone was her snark. Gone was her barbed tongue. She stood there with the rest of them, rocking her head and humming tunes inaudible to the others, staring out into the darkening green fields that lay so terribly close, just beyond the shadow of the trees where they were bound.

  “Pipe down, all of you. And leave her alone. Another pack of dogs just arrived. Looks like they’re setting up more tents.” Reed's positioning provided him the best angle to see into the new make-shift camp. Everyone else hung limp or fought against the leather lashes around their wrists. The Fae bindings held them in standing positions, arms spread and tied around opposite sides of thick tree trunks in a manner that made it look like they were all hugging individual trees within a small circular mot of hardwoods. Even Merle and the griffin cubs were with them. They lay hogtied and whimpering in the center of the mot. Yet the Fae adopted the owl as a sort of mascot while they worked. They to
ok him with them when they left, and he was nowhere to be seen. The Fae had a sort of twisted sense of humor.

  A few minutes later and Leon heard the clanging, stomping, and exuberant approach of a large group of people. He could hear the crowd growing and expanding until he was sure there were dozens more individuals clustering near their trees. He still couldn’t see what was happening, but he could guess.

  The whole stinking ‘Convergence’ must have finally shown up.

  A smooth and polished tenor voice shouted through the mounting noise. “Friends and fiends! Welcome! Welcome to this year’s first Convergence of the Eastern Wood!”

  Everyone applauded. There were catcalls and whistles, wild whoops, and crazed laughter. It was a celebratory atmosphere, but a certain restless energy, above and beyond the celebration, permeated the minds of the people surrounding them, transforming the gathered group into a boisterous mob. Leon could taste the building tension.

  “I can only tell you that this moonless Hunt will be one of the greatest of our modern era! Not in all the forest, in over a thousand moonless nights has there been a hunter’s quarry such as we have gathered before us tonight!”

  Applause and exhilarated screams erupted again. At this point, people were screaming of their own accord in mounting blood lust, oblivious to the speech. The crowd’s murmuring rose but the voice rose higher, above the increasing din of racket.

  “The Hunt will ride the wind with the coming storm, and just as in days of old, when Fae ruled pockets beyond the boundaries of these ancient trees, we will run them down beneath open skies!”

  The crowd was thoroughly enlivened. It erupted with intoxicating screams and shouts of inaudible passion. The man continued his speech, but it was at that time that Olwena decided to come out of her trance. She shouted above the noise, loud enough for Leon and all his companions to hear her, “When they cut your bonds, run! Run faster than you’ve ever run before! Skirt the forest, run west then north, into the storm, cross the trail, then swim the river if you can. The waters will be running swift, but try, try to cross. They will kill us off, one by one, but you must not slow or stop. We all must run for the hope that one may yet escape!”

  Leon couldn’t see her, but he could guess she had been staring at Reed as she belted out that last part. He couldn’t tell if she was manic or hysterical, but it didn’t matter. He would run like she said. What choice did he have?

  As the man’s speech reached its climax, his promises grew abhorrent and the nastier they were, the more enthused the mob became. Finally, he concluded by saying, “And our forest queen has sent her very own son, Dirk, here to lead the hunt himself! Remember! His is the first stone cast and his shall be the last kill! All others are for you my people, but his is the first and the last!”

  There could be no more coherent words voiced above the crowd after that. The screaming and shouting were deafening, the mob was in full meltdown. Guards came and removed them from their trees. The guards’ visage was changed. Each of them wore dark purple face paint, curling across their skin in outlandish patterns.

  Leon was hustled to the edge of the clearing and made to stand with his back to his enemy, facing out into the grassy plain beyond. The only weapon they took from any of them was the longbow from Rezz.

  The big Vin Ranger was placed beside Leon. He turned his face and smiled at Leon with that wicked-looking scar that had once made him feel such fear. Leon thought how far they had come that the same old scar now gave him a small measure of comfort.

  Rezz took that moment to speak, and though his voice broke as he yelled, his words carried over, barely audible to Leon, “Don’t look so sad my friend. Freedom tasted sweet while it lasted, did it not? I am glad I took the Blade. No regrets. You hear me, brother? No regrets!”

  Leon couldn’t entirely fight back an uninvited feeling of guilt that accompanied those simple words. He nodded back, but quickly turned to his other side and saw a different expression on the face of Dimples.

  The Hootsi’s mouth twisted in a snarl, carrying visceral disdain on the verge of unbridled rage and anger, as well as something feral, something he hadn’t yet seen in the man's eyes. Then it dawned on him.

  Dimples isn’t Bladed. He’s about to completely lose it, just like the Fae.

  Leon had no idea what to expect from a Hootsi warrior in Dimple’s state of mind, but the man was at least as dangerous as anyone, or two, of those heathens behind. He took a sidestep closer to Rezz but was yanked back into position by the guard holding him in place.

  Leon winced, but not Dimples. Dimples threw his head back and laughed. It was a laugh of contempt. Perhaps it was his way of thumbing his nose at what was about to happen? Yet, having grown to better know the Hootsi during their time together, Leon could hear the feigned mirth in the man’s voice. It was steeped in pain and regret and loss. As it trailed away, it morphed into a cat’s scream and ended with raging spittle as he bellowed out some battle mantra to an odd rhythm, working himself into a higher frenzy. The words were garbled in the noise, and Leon had no inclination to ask for clarification.

  The guard tried to silence him as he thrashed about, but Leon saw hesitation, even there, in the guard’s eyes. The Hootsi's violence had pierced the Fae's blood lust. He must have sensed something in Dimples' dark charisma that gave him pause.

  The Otterkin were brought up next, both on the other side of Rezz. They were wide-eyed and pale-faced. Leon tried to get their attention over all the noise, but they were too far away to hear him, or too dazed to acknowledge his yelling.

  Finally, Reed and Olwena were brought forward, next to Dimples. Olwena looked resigned to a morbid fate, ready to accept whatever was to come. But Reed, Reed carried abhorrent disgust in his very posture. Only, Leon couldn’t tell if the disgust was aimed against his tribe for their barbaric proclivities, or if it was aimed at himself for his recent desire to be one of them. Either way, what did it matter? Even Merle and the cubs were tossed out onto the grass beside them all.

  What was about to happen was obvious. The Fae meant to run them down like animals. It was to be a game, a bloody sick, and twisted game.

  The hands of guards reached out from behind each of them. Those hands carried sharp knives. The knives came to a stop. Sharp edges rested against knotted bonds.

  # # #

  After a long wait that further stretched the nerves of Leon and his companions, the tenor-voiced man finally gave a command. Or at least that was what Leon suspected he did. In reality, it was more like he screamed something incoherent, his voice rising once more over the wind and the wild taunts from behind. Their bonds were all simultaneously cut.

  Leon immediately leaped into action. He whistled high as he planted cut and darted northwest. Merle and the cubs immediately found their place at his side. He could hear his companions running close beside him as well.

  He kept listening for the sounds of footsteps and jeers from behind, but the mob’s screams faded into the wind. The seconds continued to tick by, and still nothing. There was little to no light left, the sun had descended beyond the mountains quite a while back, and Leon could barely see where he went. He started to fall behind.

  Then for some strange reason, he let his hand drop down to find solid comfort in the old bone-handled hilt. He pulled the hilt and drew the Blade from the belt at his side as he ran. A tender pulse sent a comforting feeling that passed over him. Its tingling warmth sank into his head. His eyes adjusted until they were able to discern shapes and shades of color in the muted light. Was this another gift he had just discovered?

  Olwena roused him from his thoughts, screaming at them all as the pace of the group faltered, “Run faster! Faster you foolish children!”

  Something wasn’t right. The feeling built in Leon’s gut. It built until it forced him to double up and stumble left.

  A dark purple streak came slicing down through the air a half-second later, just where his head would have been. The hair on Leon’s arm stood on end as the
projectile bounced once and disappeared. It was a rock, likely sent his way by one of those long leather slingshots, but it was something more as well. The Fae had done something to that rock. To be hit by one like that would be bad, real bad. He drove his feet forward and picked up the pace.

  Then more rocks crashed down further back behind him. He guessed they had crossed out of range and chanced a glance back. The dam holding back the mob broke loose in that instant, the painted Fae came pouring out into the clearing, their black hounds racing before them. It truly was a Wild Hunt.

  He turned back, focusing on breathing, on pumping his arms, and lifting his legs. His pace was all he could control.

  Olwena had been leading the group but dropped back to encourage the others. Leon ran beside Sved, doing his best to hasten the little man to move those tiny legs. He and Haddie were small, but they were quick. Leon's hope was that as they put more distance between themselves and the mob, they could begin angling more to the north, toward the river. Once the Otterkin made it to the river, they would be the ones with the advantage. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Olwena fall back behind Haddie who had started to lose step. Reed ran by her side, but it wasn’t doing much good. The last thing Olwena screamed was, “Don’t stop!”

  A heavy purple streak collided with her head, and she plowed headfirst into the tall grass behind.

  Reed hadn’t seen her fall. He had been trying to encourage Haddie to move faster. Leon remembered her last words in the clearing and though it tore at his very soul, he kept quiet, kept going. Olwena was gone, of that, he was sure. He had seen the rock penetrate in a way that left no question as to the outcome. He was sick at the thought of leaving her behind, but what could he do? Was it truly better to not distract the others in the moment, or was it cowardice creeping in on him once more?