Weaponforger (Guardian's Prophecy Book 3)

by D A Godwin

  Undaunted by the black blood oozing from its wounded face, the goat struck at him again. Tormjere feinted, but the creature jerked away before he could capitalize.

  The dog had already snuffed the flames, and Tormjere cursed the wet ground that had aided it. It staggered to its feet, now only a minor threat, and were the greater demon not present Tormjere would simply have allowed both creatures to thrash about until they lost the strength to defend itself. He needed to end it quickly, and so he forced his shoulder against it and sent it stumbling towards where Birion’s men were finally arriving.

  “Finish it!”

  Birion shouted a charge, and the men rushed forward to meet it. Its reflexes dulled by pain, the demon was unable to avoid them, and the sharpened points of their spears penetrated its hide as elvish arrows struck about its head and shoulders.

  The goat was taken by surprise by their entry into the battle, and wavered between this new threat and Tormjere. It took a step back.

  Tormjere came in low, faster than the wounded creature could react, and cut deep into its oddly jointed leg. The demon bellowed and dropped to one knee. Tormjere thrust his sword up through its chin and out the top of its head, and the demon’s lifeless bulk collapsed atop him. He shoved the thing aside and inhaled deeply, feasting on the flickering embers that floated up from the demon as it expired.

  It had been too long.

  Birion’s men had the dog demon pinned to the ground, taking turns as three held it in place while the fourth rammed his spear into any weak spot. Its cries were the terrified sounds of a creature unable to stave off its own death, and the men did not need his help.

  Tormjere stalked towards the waiting overlord. It cast a disdainful glance at the lesser demons and heaved its ponderous bulk into motion. Tormjere was not fooled by the display of sluggishness, and so was not taken by surprise when it sprang at him. Its attack came twice as fast as the others, with both massive fists flying at him like boulders in an avalanche. Unable to close with it, Tormjere could do nothing but try to avoid the flailing arms. The trees around the clearing were like a fence that hemmed them in. It was so much easier on the open plains of their world.

  His foot caught a log and he pretended to stumble. The demon set a fist crashing into the ground where he should have fallen. Tormjere was left off balance by the ruse, but took a risky swipe. His blade met flesh, but the cut was ineffective and left him exposed. The demon’s backhanded blow caught him square in his side, lifting him off his feet and sending him rolling across the clearing.

  Rather than pursue, the demon ripped a sturdy oak from the earth and flung the entire tree at him. It sailed through the air, leaves rustling as if in a gale. Tormjere threw his arms over his head and braced for the impact, but a silvery nimbus snapped in front of him at the last moment, and the timber cracked as it smashed against Shalindra’s barrier.

  By Eluria’s light, I can reach you.

  The demon’s eyes widened, then it grinned in sudden triumph. Black mists began to swirl around it, and it sank into the darkness with a mocking tip of its distorted head.

  Tormjere hurdled the tree and sprinted towards it, determined to prevent its escape.

  Do not leave me again.

  He skidded to a stop, half inside the shrinking mists, then took a reluctant step back as the gate closed before him. She was right. It would do little good to have finally escaped only to throw himself back.

  The scent of the dead demons overcame that of burned hair and torn earth, dampening any sense of disappointment. He had to hurry.

  Rushing to the goat’s corpse, he plunged both hands into an open wound and tore away a meaty chunk of flesh. Black blood splattered to the ground as he shoved it into his mouth, wolfing down bite after bite. Familiar strength surged through him, squirming its way into every extent of his body and dispelling any weariness.

  Footsteps approached from the other side of the corpse, and he brought his sword up defensively, but instead of another demon come to contest the kill there was only Birion.

  Tormjere blinked and everything came back into focus. The chirping of birds and the stirring of a gentle breeze confirmed that he was no longer in their world.

  Is this how you survived? Is it what you became?

  Orodell stood with Jax and the other men, all of them staring at him in disbelief.

  Birion looked down at Tormjere with a disconcerting mixture of pity and sadness. Then he took a piece of demon flesh and raised it towards his lips. Tormjere tried to blurt out a warning but no sound made it past what he had forced into his own mouth.

  Birion took a large bite, his eyes shining in defiance as he chewed deliberately. Almost immediately, his face took on a pained expression, and his cheeks bulged before turning purple and then green. His chewing slowed and his hand started to shake, but his eyes never left Tormjere as he forced himself to swallow.

  The knight stood there for a moment, apparently determined to hold it down by force of will, then staggered to the side and retched. Wild hoots of laughter erupted from the men as their commander fell to his knees and emptied his stomach in front of them.

  Tormjere would have chuckled as well, but the memory of the first time he had been forced to eat it left him more sympathetic than amused. He swallowed what was left in his mouth and went to help.

  “Gods preserve us!” Birion gasped. “How can you eat that filth?”

  He collapsed back onto all fours as another bout of vomiting hit him. When it seemed there was nothing left to come up, Tormjere lifted Birion to his feet and half dragged him to the edge of the lake. “Splash some on your face and try to get the taste out.”

  Birion groaned and bent halfway over when another wave of sickness hit him, and he collapsed unceremoniously into the water with a splash. Another cheer went up behind them.

  Tormjere was attempting to pull him to his feet once more when rough hands seized him from behind. He tensed, ready to strike.

  “You’re going in, too!” Jax yelled in his ear.

  “By the hells, you stink worse than he does!” Samuel added to more cheering.

  Tormjere half-heartedly fought it before allowing himself to be tossed into the water beside Birion. This time, he came up laughing.

  * * *

  They stayed awake late that evening, sharing a fire with the elves. There were few things that brought soldiers together like victory, and though all were exhausted, no one felt tired enough to sleep just yet. Birion was regaling Orodell with tales of prior battles against the demons, and Orodell was comparing them to his own exploits. Both men, thankfully, made little mention of the events at the end of the battle, though likely for different reasons.

  The crackle of the small fire was a pleasant sound, but Tormjere sought answers from the flames rather than warmth. Three demons should mean three wizards, but they had seen no sign of them. He had done his best to locate them, but even his senses had found nothing. The wizards had proven the one constant in everything they had been through, and their absence was disturbing. There had to be some truth to this thread that he was missing, but it continued to elude him.

  I agree it makes little sense, given what we saw during the war.

  Wizards should have guards as well, enough that we should’ve seen some sign by now. They’ve never been that far away.

  It is one of several mysteries before us. How did you learn to defeat them so easily?

  I fought, and I read the books I stole from the wizards. Sometimes I would get to eat.

  That is all you have done for three years?

  At least I’m good at it now.

  You are good at a great number of things. There was never a need to hide it.

  It’s in the past, and I don’t need anyone’s pity.

  Tormjere turned his attention to the more pleasant conversation going on around him. He should have used the dohedron to tell Honarch what had happened, but as Shalindra already knew, it seemed a waste of effort.

  “We saw
a drop in goblin attacks during your conflict in the Kingdom,” Orodell was saying, “but they are on the rise once more, and the road to Ildalarial remains dangerous.”

  “Would Ildalarial not help keep the way clear?” Birion asked.

  Orodell’s expression clouded. “We have warred with our southern neighbors at times, and the relationship remains strained. Stone and structure are their choices now. They turned their backs on our heritage long ago and grow more human-like with every generation, though I mean no offense.”

  Birion indicated that he took none. “I would hope that a common foe would inspire them to action.”

  Samuel came rushing into the camp and addressed Birion. “Sir? There’s a light to the west.”

  “Douse that,” Birion commanded, pointing to their own campfire.

  Jax and Diran rushed to smother the flames. Tormjere sprang to his feet, following Samuel’s pointed finger to where a tiny flicker of firelight could be seen.

  “Good eyes,” Birion commended him.

  “I’m going to check,” Tormjere said.

  “We will accompany you,” Orodell said, already shouldering his bow.

  Tormjere and the elves slipped into the night before anyone could object, moving swiftly up and down the wooded hills towards the source of the light.

  They slowed to a crawl as they drew within sight of the camp, occupied by at least a half-dozen men. Tormjere pointed to where the lone sentry stood apart from the rest, and Orodell nodded. As the elves circled away from him, Tormjere crept closer to where two men were seated away from the fire, conversing in low tones.

  “…will complain if you request another name,” the swordsman was saying.

  The other man with him was largely hidden in shadow and Tormjere could see few details, but his robed silhouette was identification enough. “If Verelli doesn’t like it, let him come wander these cursed woods himself.”

  “Our instructions were to monitor, not wander. Allowing it to roam was a risk.”

  “The illusion of freedom kept it content, and content creatures are easier to control.”

  “You should have been more cautious, even here.”

  “Cautious of what? People make claims of all manner of creatures in these woods, and few are believed even by their own friends.”

  “What if it was the elves? We could have tipped our hand.”

  “I don’t care who or what it was. We cannot complete the directive with a handful of men. I must obtain another.”

  The wizard stood, and the swordsman echoed his movement, both unknowingly turning their backs to Tormjere as they rose.

  “And I appreciate your advice, even when I choose to ignore it. It should be nearing dawn in Tythir.” The wizard reached into a pocket and withdrew a jeweled dohedron. “I will make the request now, while—”

  Tormjere’s blade took the swordsman’s head off with a single swipe, and his fist slammed into the side of the wizard’s face before the startled man could react. The wizard crumpled to the ground. The soft twang of a pair of bows was followed by a muffled gasp, indicating that the sentry had been dealt with.

  Tormjere paused only long enough to ensure the wizard was unconscious, then drew his knife and dispatched the sleeping men. He was already binding the wizard’s hands when the elves joined him.

  “Care with his mouth,” Orodell warned, “lest he curse us with his foul tongue.”

  Tormjere cut a strip from the wizard’s robes to use as a gag and tied it tightly around the unconscious man’s head.

  “We should take him to friend Birion,” Orodell said. “When he awakes we shall discover his purpose.”

  Tormjere made a quick search through the bodies, looking for anything of value. From the wizard, he took a pair of books, a ring, and the small cage pendant used to summon demons, the interior of which swirled with dark mists as if it were alive. The swordsmen had little he could take beyond their coins.

  Tormjere tossed the unconscious wizard over his shoulder, and they returned to their own camp.

  “Are you certain he’s still alive?” Birion asked as they arrived, inspecting the wizard’s swollen face.

  Tormjere eased the wizard against a tree and tied him to it. “He twitched once or twice on the way over, so I’d assume so.”

  “Well, he won’t be awake for a while, and perhaps not until morning. I want a full half-watch tonight.”

  The men groaned as loud as they dared. A half-watch meant that half their number would be awake and alert at any given time, they would rotate out every hour, and no one would get enough sleep.

  Tormjere handed the recovered coins to Birion. “They’ve a decent number of weapons as well, but we couldn’t bring it all back.”

  “We’ll check it in the morning,” Birion said, “assuming no further complications.”

  Tormjere made himself comfortable atop a large rock, determined to ensure there would be none.

  By the time the wizard awoke well after dawn, his jaw and the side of his clean-shaven face had turned an ugly purple. His mood was just as foul, and his eyes flashed dangerously as the gag was pulled loose.

  “Your name,” Birion demanded.

  The wizard glowered at them beneath bushy eyebrows. “I shall assume you wish to know it so you may notify the Conclave of your actions and beg our forgiveness.”

  “That remains to be seen, but your recent actions do not aid your cause.”

  “What was your purpose in our woods?” Orodell demanded.

  “My business here is none of your concern, elf.”

  Birion’s tone remained even. “Then perhaps you could explain why demons are preying on travelers.”

  “I don’t know anything about demons.”

  Tormjere balled his fists.

  Do not hit him, please.

  He’s lying.

  Eventually he will say something of worth.

  Tormjere dangled the demon necklace in his face. “We are well aware of the purpose of this device, and so are you. You should answer the questions while there is still a reason to keep you alive.”

  “Am I not allowed to provide for my own defense?” the wizard said, sulking. “Your cutthroats are not the only dangerous thing in these woods.”

  Biron crossed his arms. “Three demons seem excessive, even for this wilderness.”

  The wizard’s answering laugh was thick with scorn. “Had I three demons at my command, I would raze your town and wipe away even the faintest memory of you. You are no more than a lucky thief, sulking in the shadows of the civilized world. I know where you’re from. Do you think that pathetic little settlement you’ve created could stand against anyone? The only thing that’s kept you alive has been the inconvenience of killing you.”

  Orodell leapt upon the admission. “If not for them, then you are here to cause trouble for us.”

  “Think what you will. It will not change any of your fates.” The wizard lapsed into a stubborn silence.

  “I think he has nothing else to say,” Tormjere said, drawing his knife.

  Birion raised a cautionary hand. “He does not need to be tortured.”

  The wizard’s smile grew smug, a look of satisfaction that was erased as Tormjere’s blade sliced across his throat. Tormjere allowed his vision to shift and inhaled the embers that floated up from the wizard’s body. The tingling sensation that raced through his head was far more satisfying than Birion’s angry visage.

  “Why did you feel that necessary?” the knight demanded.

  “He told us enough.”

  “We could have—”

  “Done what?” Tormjere demanded, as he wiped his blade on the wizard’s robe. “Asked him nicely to leave? Bargained with him to allow us our peace? Remind me how well that worked at Tiridon, or Kirchmont, or as we fled into the mountains.”

  Birion seemed as unsettled by his words as those around him, but refused to relent. “He could have remained useful. Until today there has been nothing—”

  “Because th
ey’ve been too busy to care about you.” Tormjere stood to face him. “The only thing that has ever given them pause is when we’ve killed their demons or killed them, and I will continue doing both until they leave us alone.”

  “And if they never do?” Birion asked, his expression hard. “You are becoming the very thing you claim to fight against.”

  “Do not lecture me on the ideals afforded you by the luxuries of this world. In theirs, ideals die faster than the weak.”

  Both men stood toe to toe, eyes locked together, neither willing to back down.

  Orodell’s words broke the tense silence. “It has ever been the misfortune of those who shield us from demons to suffer, even in their victories. I must inform our Calontier of what we’ve learned, but I thank you both for your efforts in bringing this truth to light.” He placed a hand on Birion’s shoulder. “I will see that your merchant’s goods are salvaged and returned to you, along with their remains.”

  “We thank you for that,” Birion said.

  Orodell turned to Tormjere and bowed. “May Lithandris continue to favor you, Velantriar.”

  Unexpected Answers

  Enna stood by Shalindra’s side as the patrol rode across the bridge towards them. There was no mistaking how unsettled she was, but it seemed more a sadness about what could no longer be changed than any uncertainty for their safety. Why she was that way so soon after her triumph of Alta Amalia remained a mystery, but Enna was certain it had something to do with Tormjere.

  Tormjere dismounted almost before his horse had stopped.

  “We’ll see it stabled,” Birion said brusquely, his displeasure as evident as the sun in the sky and equally as hot.

  Tormjere handed the reins to one of the other soldiers, who gave him a more respectful tip of his head. That was interesting.

  “I’m going to take this to Honarch,” Tormjere said, holding up a small sack.