by Simon Archer
The club orc didn’t get the memo about self-preservation, even as the sword wielder skidded to a halt outside the axe’s arc. Instead, the club orc tried to meet my swing with a big, overhand smash of his own. The axe cleaved through the orc’s cheap armor, backed by all my well-trained muscle, and sent intestines and gore spilling out of the wound, and at the same time, the orc’s massive club clipped my back. The rough bands caught on cloth and skin as it grazed my shoulder blades, tearing away part of my shirt and cutting a few bloody scrapes in my flesh. It hurt like hell, but I bit back the pain as I pulled the axe back around for another go.
Even as the club orc dropped said club to try to keep his insides on the inside, Reggie was already past me and squeezed off a shot at the slave master. It would have been a dead-on hit to the orc’s center of mass… but just as Sir Thorpe pulled the trigger, Petra dropped to her knees and planted her palms into the multi-colored grass. Before the bullet even left the Webley’s barrel, thin sapling trunks burst up from the ground, weaving together as they rose up into a shield around the slaver. Normally, a .455 round would blow through a wooden barrier like that, but I realized the moment the shot hit that the saplings were of that same bronze-like tree I had seen by the archway when we arrived. There was a tremendous spark as the bullet ricocheted off the metallic wood and buried itself in the dirt.
The orc did call Petra a dryad, and I knew my classical mythology, so I wasn’t too surprised. Well, that and the fact I was still fighting for my life. As Reggie let out a “Bloody hell,” I didn’t think about the warm blood trickling down my back as I swept the leg out from under the eviscerated orc to get him out of my way. He was more than happy to back out of this fight now, falling to the ground just as his friend with the hook sword decided to take his shot at me.
It was clear to me from his reckless approach that these orcs were used to being bigger and stronger than their opponents. Mr. Hook moved with a bullying swagger despite the fact we had killed all his friends in short order and reared back to take a long, wide swing, no doubt intending to hook me right through the side with his sword. Despite his sloppy form, he brought the blade around with tremendous speed and force.
Too bad for him I wasn’t going to stand there and get hooked. The only smart thing he did was use his reach to keep me away, so I simply stepped back beyond the arc of glittering steel. Though his weapon was better balanced than the others, hook swords were a bit tip-heavy, and the miss still dragged the orc a little off balance. It was more than enough time for me to flip my knife over to catch it blade-first, then hurl it right at his leading sword arm.
The blade buried itself up to the hilt in the massive meat of his bicep, no doubt piercing right through, and that tore up more than enough muscle to make the orc’s weapon go flying. Now that the orc was defenseless, I kicked him hard in his kneecap, shattering bone as I dropped him to his hands and knees. I considered finishing him off with an axe stroke, but I didn’t want to get it stuck in bone.
No, I needed it to chop down some foliage.
As I rushed past the downed orcs, Petra thrust her hands up from her low crouch towards Reggie as he tried to aim through a gap in the bronzed saplings. The arrowhead leaves started to shake and vibrate at her command, and I barely had time to realize what was about to happen.
“Down, Reg!” I yelled as I turned from my goal to free Her from Her thorny prison and instead dove for the aging explorer.
While Sir Thorpe wasn’t over the hill yet, he was still getting long in the tooth, and his reflexes weren’t quite what they were. He only had time for his eyes to widen at what was about to be weaponized leaves and begin to flinch, and then they fired off with tremendous speed and accuracy.
And then I bowled Reggie over. The leafy projectiles whistled just past my head, one literally parting my dirty blond hair. They buried themselves into the bark of the trees on the opposite end of the clearing, practically disappearing into the wood.
“Oh, thank God!” Sir Thorpe let out with a wheeze as I got to my knees. “If you hadn’t been there, William--”
I flashed him a grin as I cut him off. “We’ll throw a party later, Reg, right now--”
“Yes, yes, back to work, indeed,” he finished for me as he began to sit up, but before either of us could fully rise, the robed orc let out a snorting screech.
“Now, my puppet, stop playing nice with them and get them!” he cried out. “Kill them, whatever it takes!”
I only glanced up because it was part of my leap because I didn’t need to know how this magic worked to realize what I would do if I could control plant life in this situation. That look let me see the regret and pain etched in Petra’s emerald eyes and the savage glow of the burn scar on her chest. It’s a good thing I did leap at that very second because my feet left the ground right when all the grass and weeds and little plants of the meadow reached upward, growing with supernatural speed as they tried to wrap around my legs.
Reggie wasn’t so lucky, not after being knocked flat on his back, and as the plant life surged around him, he kicked and struggled, spitting curses that were remarkably ungentlemanly of him. I’d kid him about it later, once we had made it out of this.
Deep down, I knew there was only one way to do that, even if I didn’t know exactly how.
I ended my leap into a roll and carried that through into a sprint. The slaver sputtered and shrieked as I ran, a constant invective to ‘kill me’ or some such, but either I was just too fast, or Petra’s heart wasn’t really in it, because another volley of razor leaves peppered the meadow in a path behind me, all missing by just a hair.
As I came with a few steps of the coil of vines around Her, Petra spoke for the first time, a sweet, lilting voice despite the pain that ran through it. “Yes, Master, I will get him for sure with this one,” she said ruefully as she rose back to her full height, gesturing upward to the twin suns.
At her command, the thorny vines came to life and spiraled out like someone had turned a bunch of garden hoses to full blast and let them go… and in that very moment, She was exposed in all her ancient glory, golden light filtered between the patches of rust that marred the otherwise pristine metal. As crazy as the idea was, did Petra find a way to help me while trying to kill me?
Maybe she had because as I ducked past the first lashing vine whip while hacking down another with a swing of my axe, the robed orc let out a scream of panic. “No, no, you stupid bitch! You were supposed to contain the brand!”
“But Master, did you not order me to kill them, no matter the cost?” she asked back rather innocently as she turned to the orc, still hiding like a coward behind her conjured shield of bronzewood.
He must not have liked that reply because instead of doing the smart thing and letting her concentrate on stopping me, he did something that made her brand surge with scarlet light. Petra let out a shriek of pain that almost broke my heart as she fell to her knees… but whatever agony she was enduring, it also broke her concentration. The thorn vines suddenly stiffened, lifeless once more, and I heard the sounds of ripping grass behind me as Reggie freed himself.
Not wasting the opportunity, I slipped past the last few thorny death whips and reached out for Her grip. As I closed my hand around it, I could feel the buttery-smooth wood as it seemed to shape itself to my grip… or maybe it was simply made to be held by me. I couldn’t tell which, but the one thing I was sure of was the surge of electricity that roared through my veins and through my spine. Pure, unadulterated endorphins sang through my body, and the golden light that permeated the haft of the rod exploded out through the rust to render Her length pure and polished once more. The stump underneath started to smoke as the brand’s head ignited, and with one hard pull, I ripped Her free from the burning wood.
“Welcome home, William Tyler,” She sang in my ear as the rune-shaped tip of Her form blazed with the same golden light. “I am Libritas, and I am Freedom for this shackled world.”
I smiled as I turned to
face where Petra knelt and her tormentor was now exposed, the bronzewood shield having fallen away with her. I pointed the burning brand in my hand towards the orc.
“I don’t know if you heard that, asshole,” I barked at him, “but I’ll summarize.” I began to stalk towards him as he raised his own brand weakly. “Your days of ordering slaves around is at an end. You might want to start running now.”
4
The orc slave master didn’t run, cower, or simply surrender. Though a shudder of fear ran through his bulky frame, he responded to my threat and Libritas’ golden glow with a roar of fury. He drew back his own branding iron and charged, bloodlust alight in his red eyes. Hell, they were practically glowing as he charged at me with abandon.
I hadn’t noticed just how huge this guy was, most of his body concealed under his robes, but now that he was closing in, it was clear he was the biggest pig man of the group. That didn’t faze me, though. He was all rage and power, but I had an entire lifetime of Dad’s strange training regimen and a magic hunk of steel that trumped all that.
“It is best that you don’t think of me as just mystical metal, William,” Libritas chided in my head, her husky tone almost amused as I deflected the monster’s overhead swing. Sparks flew as the two brands met, and while the orc’s weapon came away scratched and marred, Libritas was still pristine.
“Cool, I get that,” I grunted as I slipped around the back of the overextended slaver. Squaring up for a good swing on his back, I tried to focus on mentally communicating. “And as awesome as this is, can you tell me what I need to do? You’re supposed to be Freedom, what do I do about the dryad?”
Talking with my mind was immeasurably quicker than using my mouth, so I had my questions out before I brought my weapon around in a home run swing on the slaver’s back. It was obvious that the hold he had on Petra required him to give her commands, even if they were broad, so we had to take advantage before he gave her new orders. There was a tremendous ringing of steel on steel as Libritas hit home, and something under the orc’s robes dented inward.
The bastard had to be hiding a full suit of plate mail under those robes of his. The force of my blow still staggered the brute forward several steps as a piggish squeal of pain came out through his snout. Past the orc, Reggie was back on his feet, his revolver raised and at the ready, while Petra was still crumpled on her knees and clutching the burning scar on her chest.
“I don’t think I can get a clear shot, William,” the old explorer shouted with a growl as he tried to flank the melee.
Meanwhile, the slaver pushed himself back to a vertical base. The orc must have already realized he was outmatched by me directly as he let out a bellow. “Petra! Your punishment is lifted! Just protect me, save my life!”
That changed everything. The dryad’s massive chest heaved as she sucked in the first clear breath she could manage in moments, and the trees, vines, and plants that surrounded us shook and rumbled with that breath. Sir Thorpe caught my eye, and I jerked my head toward Petra even as the slaver took a stab at me. He read my gesture exactly as I wanted and beat feet toward the dryad. Meanwhile, Libertas was mentally talking my ear off.
“Though my power has faded somewhat over time, with you wielding me, we can indeed break the foul runes that bind that poor girl,” she went on in my head as I deflected the slaver’s attack, a more careful thrust to probe my defenses. The twisted tip of his brand hissed and sputtered, and I had no doubt it’d melt my flesh if it so much as brushed my skin. “You need only summon up your inner essence, focus it through my golden steel--”
I cut her off with my own mental message. “As much as I love the sound of your voice, can you give me the short form now and save the big explanation for later?”
Libritas’ golden glow tinged a reddish-gold for just a moment, almost as if she was blushing as I parried another harder thrust from the slaver and riposted into a stab of my own. It was two parts fencing and one part escrima, but it worked, my iron’s blazing trip burning through the robes of his arm as he tried to slip to one side. It was just his sleeve that burned away, but the black iron armor underneath which melted into a searing mess that caked his bicep.
Before I could get a finishing thrust in though, the earth between us burst upward as a tangle of tough, spiny vines cut me off from the orc. I cursed under my breath as I was forced back by the lashing tendrils.
“Oh, of course!” Yep, my mystical branding iron was a little embarrassed as she whispered in my head, but that returned to the same passionate tone she had when I freed her. “Simply desire the maiden’s freedom and then overlay my brand over the Dark Rune inscribed on her chest. I shall do the rest!”
Part of me wanted to question if it would really be that simple, and yet I remembered what Dad had told me so many times when I was growing up. “Remember, William, faith is everything, and faith in yourself is the most important thing. Every great thing done in all of history came from a person who believed in himself.”
I ducked back from the lashing vines, but I was a little surprised that the thorn-covered whips didn’t seek me out so much as hover in a defensive wall around the slaver. Now was our chance… and Reggie was a step ahead of me. While I had been in my deadly dance with the slaver, the old explorer had been crossing the clearing, and with Petra’s attention focused on defending her master, she didn’t seem to even care about Reggie. She didn’t even flinch, her hands still weaving in arcane motions, when he grabbed hold of her.
“My sincere apologies, ma’am,” he told her as he tried to restrain her arms behind her back. “Know that I’m never one for treating a lady so roughly.”
Petra let out a squeal as she tried to struggle, but while Sir Thorpe was no spring chicken, he was a tough old bird. He held her tight, and I saw my chance. With Reggie pulling the dryad’s arms back, her chest was thrust forward, almost to the point that her breasts burst free from her minimal leafy clothing… but more importantly, it put the glowing red rune burnt in her otherwise flawless skin front and center.
“Now is our chance, William!” Libritas practically cheered in my ear as I spun on my heel. I didn’t need to voice my agreement with her. Instead, I focused on what she had told me, to think about giving Petra the freedom that she deserved, the freedom all sapient creatures did, and the branding iron in my hand flared with an even brighter light than before, the burning tip flushing from red hot to an icy silver blue.
“No!” the orc screamed from behind his guardian vines. “Don’t let the brand touch you!”
Now, I had seen how fast Petra could summon up plant life. She had blocked a revolver round, interrupted me in mid-thrust, and I knew she could stop me now… but I also had observed how literally the dryad took her orders. The moment I saw the red of the slaver’s command flash in her eyes, I only feinted my intended thrust at her.
Just as I expected, the ground rumbled the moment I made my fake move, and more bronzewood saplings soared upward, surrounding the dryad as it forced Reggie to release his hold. The old Brit fell backward to roll away from the razor-sharp leaves of the thing.
Me, I didn’t follow through on my thrust. Instead, I twisted back towards the slaver, and just as I expected, the lashing vines that had been protecting him had gone dormant the moment Petra had shifted her focus to defending herself. The orc’s beady eyes grew twice over as he let out a squeal of shock as he realized his mistake.
“No!” he snorted out.
“Yes,” I retorted simply as I measured a killing blow with Libritas.
“William, strike swiftly!” the brand pulsed in my mind. “You won’t have another chance!”
As I reared back, I made sure to keep the saplings obscuring Petra in view out of the corner of my eye. “Don’t worry, Lib, I have a plan.”
And the coward took the bait a second later. “Petra!” he roared, the watery tears of mortal fear welling up in his eyes. “Save me!”
Like flipping a light switch, the cracking of the growing sap
lings behind me abruptly ceased along, and the grass beneath my feet swayed as a tremor ran under my feet from where Petra was to under the slave master. It was like the world’s deadliest game of red light-green light, where the dryad’s powerful magic shifted to defend one of them or the other from me… but as harried as the slaver was, he wouldn’t fall for this again, so I couldn’t mess this up.
The lashing vines in front of the orc surged back to life, but I didn’t care, even as they rushed out at me. My eyes were already focused on the wall of saplings, which were already beginning to recede into the dirt, just as before. In a split-second, as thorns bit into my side, the opening that I knew would appear showed itself, a clear gap in the shrinking wood and the leering red glow of Petra’s branded flesh.
I bit back the burning pain and ignored the hot drip of blood as I spun and thrust Libritas at my target in one swift motion, her power surging as my mind and body moved as one. The silver runic tip slipped with perfect accuracy through the shrinking bronzewood and struck dead-on. Honestly, that scar was like a magnet. Even if my aim hadn’t been true, Libritas was drawn to the wound, and the dryad almost seemed to arch her back and thrust her bountiful chest upward to meet the silvery light.
“Now, William!” the brand roared in my mind as the brand seemed to swallow up the angry red scar on Petra’s chest. “Think of freedom! Pour all your heart and soul into this!”
I did just that, and light exploded from the brand, unyielding, blinding light that filled my vision, filled my mind. Sir Thorpe let out a gasp of wonder, and the orc let out a keening cry of anguish, but most of all, it was Petra’s shuddering moan, an almost orgasmic cry of joy that dominated my hearing.
Through the golden glow, I could finally make out something, Petra herself with both delicate hands clutched around the haft of my branding iron to pull herself into Libritas’ embrace. Her nut-brown skin was covered in a sheen of sweat as her head was tilted back, her eyes shut in absolute pleasure as before my eyes, the hideous burnt scar healed. The seething tissue melted away and smoothed into the perfect flesh of the dryad’s cleavage, and the hideous, twisted red light was snuffed, replaced by blazing gold.