The Sword and the Flame: The Forging

by CP Bialois

  “You dare mock me!” Fech lunged towards Berek with the strength of his four limbs. The speed of the action should’ve surprised the human but Berek side stepped, only catching a talon across his chest. Though it was just a scratch by gargoyle standards, it cut an inch into his flesh after cutting through the leather armor. “First blood is mine human, so will be the last!” Fech barely landed before he pivoted and launched at Berek again.

  Ignoring the pain in his chest, Berek ducked low to avoid Fech, forcing the gargoyle to miss with his talons. With his foe off balance, Berek drove his sword into Fech’s midsection. While the strike was deep it missed anything of importance but was enough to bring a howl of pain and anger from Fech.

  With a sword buried six inches into his side, Fech swiveled, backhanding Berek across the face. The force of the blow sent the human hurtling into a small group of bushes several feet away. Fech reached down and pulled the sword from his side, glaring at the dark blood covering the blade before tossing it to the side. Never before had anyone wounded him that severely, Fech closed the distance between them determined not to allow it to happen again.

  As soon as he made contact with the ground Berek rolled to the side expecting Fech to leap towards him. He rolled to his knees in time to see his short sword being tossed aside. He was no match for the gargoyle without a weapon, they both knew it. But instead of being attacked, he watched as Fech flexed his claws, circling around him. He was surprised, it wasn’t like a gargoyle to not finish off a victim as soon as possible. Whatever caused the change in Fech, Berek was grateful. That was until he heard the words of magic. While he didn’t understand them, his intuitively knew what was to come. Things just become more complicated.

  *****

  “They can’t have gotten too far. I doubt Fech would risk returning to Renard.” Gilliam pushed aside a smaller branch so it wouldn’t get caught in his robes and held it for Fleir.

  “Aye lad, he’d risk bringing the soldiers of Hope down on them. If they had a backbone, that is.” Galin seemed to be faring better in the thick forest then his taller companions. Even when his steel shod boots tangled in the underbrush he weaved through the brush without disturbing a thing following Janessa‘s lead. Halflings were a distant relation to Elves. He knew that because all races the Dwarves trusted had to be related to the Elves. Funny, he thought, that a people could have so many relatives. He would’ve laughed at the thought as any good Dwarf would, but he’d come to like the little thief. She had a sense of honor and purpose about her one rarely saw in her kind. Or perhaps it was a trait the other races refused to see? Either way, he considered her a friend. He just didn’t like to admit it even to himself.

  He rested a comforting hand on Janessa’s shoulder, “Don’t worry lass, we’ll find them.” Galin reassured her in lowered tones so the others wouldn’t hear. They each had their own concerns about their friend’s decision.

  Janessa was lost in her own thoughts, dark thoughts about the pain Viola had to bear before her death. Her mind went from that to the gargoyle, then to Berek and his bravery. If only she’d been stronger, faster, if only she hadn’t wanted to go to the pit fights none of that would’ve happened.

  Galin’s soft words pierced the thick haze forming a barrier within her mind. His concern was genuine. She gained more friends at the cost of her best friend. Was that a fair exchange? She didn’t think so, but it wasn’t any of their faults. Viola seemed strange when she decided to remain behind. Had she known what was to happen? Was Berek right that she was still alive? Janessa’s resolve began to erode, but not to the point where she was willing to forgive. Their attacker had to be slain; he had to pay for the murder he may have committed. Janessa scared herself; even she noticed she didn’t sound like herself.

  The Halfling let out a deep breath and tried to smile at Galin, what appeared was a sour looking smile. “I know, it’s just that… that I should be there with him. It’s more my fault than his.”

  To her surprise he nodded, “Aye lass, but that’s why he’s doing it. You’ve been through so much, he wants to spare you more pain.”

  Janessa’s eyes widened for an instant, she didn’t think of that! A tear began to form in her eye as she understood Berek. She was soiled by blood. The one time she killed nearly destroyed her.

  Galin watched her with a practiced eye, she understood as he did. Not even Gilliam understood his nephew as much as he liked to believe. I must be getting wise in my mid years, He thought though he wasn’t sure where it came from. “You’ll have your chance lass, not everyone can say that.”

  A sudden wave of heat and smoke rose into the air not more than a mile from them as a deep throated scream of agony ripped through the air.

  “Sounds like he found Fech.” Gilliam raised his mace and broke into a run as did the others.

  “Aye and the beast doesn’t sound none too happy.”

  Fleir kept up with them through the forest with ease, the only impediment was her clothing as it snagged on every branch but she refused to let it stop her. She had a desire to reach her beloved but knew they were moving too slow. Desperate to ensure their arrival and Berek’s safety, she closed her eyes and began the metamorphosis. In seconds, she changed into a wisp of air and enveloped the companions. Using as much of her magic as she dared they became enshrouded, wisps of air like herself. To their surprise their speed increased, leaving them not knowing how they arrived at the clearing as the wounded gargoyle and human locked in an embrace of magic.

  *****

  The fireball, it was the one powerful spell Fech knew. It was born into all of the Draconian races but not always with the ability to use it. He disliked it because it drained him of so much of his energy and strength, both of which he needed against a human both he and Renard had underestimated.

  Fech’s last attack was repelled, how he had no idea, and it nearly caught him in another inferno. His wings and gravely hide were blistered from Berek’s initial attack and pained him. Gargoyles were ambush specialists, few survived when the tables were turned.

  Berek cast a spell of his own, one that fired numerous purplish objects at the gargoyle. Furious, Fech didn’t notice the arrival of the others as he leapt into the air. He dodged a couple of the magic missiles but some found their mark, causing pain to tear through his body. He wanted to end this torment; the sport of the hunt, the challenge was gone. For the first time he feared for his life and asked why that man needed help against the Nursk Brothers? Until then he believed Berek had been aided, now he wasn’t so sure.

  His flight pattern forced Berek to circle around, a task that proved to be enough to disrupt his concentration which meant there would be no more magic. Fech was pleased with himself for his maneuvering and dove for the human. Too late he saw he’d fallen into a trap as Berek grabbed for the sword the gargoyle had tossed aside only moments before. Oh well, Fech thought, I’ll die but this human will join me.

  A shout from the side broke the gargoyle’s concentration for a moment. So, he failed to kill Berek’s friends. A pity they survived only to see their hero killed. Fech smiled as his red glowing eyes locked on Berek’s all black eyes. Fech recognized those eyes, the ones all Draconian kind feared. Numb from his instinctual fear, he didn’t feel the burning blade slice through him, nor the impact with the human. His only thought was to kill the human before it was too late.

  The companions stopped in awe at the sight before them. Fleir dropped to her knees unable to move from exhaustion, after transporting all of them to her beloved. The erupting scream took them all by surprise except for one. Somehow, it was like Janessa expected it as she raced towards Berek. She felt it happen but couldn’t ever recall doing it afterwards.

  The sight and sound of the impact shook Janessa, more so than the lack of screams from the two combatants. She was sure the large gargoyle crushed Berek but the beast was struggling with him, trying to rip Berek’s face apart with its failing strength. The scene was horrifying, a flaming sword blade stuck
out from Fech’s back, his wings and skin were badly burned, and there was blood everywhere. Both black and red covered the two as they each fought for Berek’s life.

  Berek was losing, Janessa could tell, just a few feet away she could see Berek’s strength fading. The gargoyle would kill him before it died. She couldn’t allow it to happen, not to another friend. She pulled out the silver dagger she bought from Galin just a couple of days before and leapt onto the gargoyle’s back. Janessa struggled to hold on as the flames from the sword burned her leather leggings and legs. In desperation, she raised the dagger and stabbed down as hard as she could. Everything around her stopped as if that moment were frozen in time. Feeling and motion returned when the gargoyle went limp and fell to the side. She scrambled off its back to avoid being pinned and found herself on Berek.

  To her surprise he smiled at her, his face was caked in blood from himself and Fech. “Well done… warrior.” Berek’s voice was little more than a whisper and was followed by a coughing fit that brought out a mouthful of blood.

  Crying, Janessa grabbed his collar, “Don’t you die Berek! Don’t you dare die!” She thought she heard words of magic but they weren’t the same she was used to hearing from Viola. The last thing she saw before everything went black was Berek closing his eyes.

  The Sword and the Flame:

  The Purging

  Chapter 1

  Was she dreaming? It didn’t feel like a dream, at least she didn’t think of it as one. What did that mean? Janessa crossed her arms in thought; at least she believed she did. The place she found herself had a queer enough feel to it to make the Halfling’s skin crawl.. Around her was nothing, and that was wrong. Everything was around her as well, all she had to do was think of a thing, no matter how big or small, and it would appear. She toyed with her discovery at first, thinking of the most outlandish colored items she could. Each time they appeared, and for the briefest of moments, gave some life and cheer to her surroundings.

  It wasn’t that the landscape was ugly or twisted, it was just bland. The ground, if one chose to call it that, was a fine gray powder. Despite its soft texture it was impossible to dig, leave a footprint, or otherwise disturb it. The sky was a pinkish blue color with no clouds or sun to light the way but yet she could see. Maybe the ground gave off the light like a layer of snow seemed to under the watchful eye of the full moon.

  Her natural curiosity was aroused, though she couldn’t help shuddering at the lack of feeling everything had. She felt numb but no amount of rubbing brought the feeling back to her arms. No, Janessa didn’t like wherever she was. With no other option, she began walking. Any direction was as good as another in a place like this, she reasoned. Her thoughts weren’t on her friends, which was odd for her. She concentrated on finding a way out of the wasteful expanse.

  To the contrary, Berek felt a sharp stabbing pain somewhere in his body but he couldn’t think of where it was. His body was alive with feeling. He felt warm, fevered, while ice cold fingers fought for a purchase everywhere he was warm. Warm one moment, then cold the next, and then back to warm was enough to drive anyone mad. In desperation, he tried to throw off both sets of hands causing the sensations, but his body wouldn’t work. Instead, each of his commands to move were followed by a renewing pain.

  He tried to focus but his mind seemed to be fighting its own war as it slowed down with each touch of the cold fingers only to once more become alert as the warmth overtook it. Helpless, Berek tried to find some way to make his body obey him, but each time it refused. His body never failed him before, now seeming intent on allowing him to suffer.

  Voices. Berek could make out a pair of voices but he wasn’t sure where they came from. It took some time for his mind to focus enough for him to recognize them. While their names escaped him, he was able to tell them apart. One was older sounding, deep and husky as it spoke some strange language he never heard before. A small part of his mind called it magic but became fuddled from another sense of cold grasping him. When Berek’s mind cleared with the receding cold, he believed it wasn’t magic, at least not any kind he ever heard of. At the end of each thought he could feel a sharp pain followed by nothing.

  The second voice was softer, far gentler than the first. Its words folded around him, engulfing him in love and kindness. He never felt such a feeling before, never imagined something like it could exist. As each word caressed him, they seemed to drive away the cold fingers fighting for a purchase on him. If this was a dream, he was content to relax in its embrace and let it lead him.

  Author’s Note:

  Hello, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading The Sword and the Flame: The Forging as well as an excerpt from book two, The Purging. If you’d like to read more about my novels or simply want to say “hi” feel free to stop by my websites to drop me a line:

  cpbialois.webs.com

  cpbialois.wordpress.com

  facebook.com/CP Bialois

  Twitter.com/cpbialois.

  Until next time, let your imagination fly.