“I’m sorry, truly, but I can’t abandon Jais to them. I’m going after them. I understand if you don’t want to come with me.” But she wanted him to. She could really use someone with her. Her heart was still pounding. She wasn’t sure who she was more worried for, herself or Jais or these Dronnegir trapped in someone else’s conflict.
Some part of her mind knew that six men against all these barbarians shouldn’t stand a chance, yet she didn’t believe that for some reason. Some instinct told her those six men were dangerous, far more than their limited number.
Volf put a hand on her shoulder. “I will follow you.” There was compassion and something else in his eyes, strength in his voice. It reassured her.
She gave a faint laugh. “Are you certain? There’ll be a fight. You’re still learning.”
He grinned. “I may only be learning how to fight, but I’ve been getting out of danger all my life. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Do what you have to.”
She nodded.
“Then let’s be away. Keep a wary eye for patrols. We’re going to be picking up our pace, I don’t want to lose that group of men.”
He nodded.
They moved quicker now and soon enough had the six men in view again.
Following carefully at a distance, they descended into a valley. This would be the last valley before they headed up to the plateau on which the village was laid out. A thick forest covered most of the floor of the dell. Caerwyn’s keen ears picked up the burbling of a stream or creek somewhere in those woods.
The men disappeared into the trees at the base of the valley.
Caerwyn’s heart jumped up into her throat, thumping harder. She couldn’t help but feel like those men were simply waiting for her in the darkness of those trees, laying a trap.
But she moved on undaunted, hoping that wasn’t the case. Hoping she wasn’t leading Volf to his doom.
Yet no arrows were fired from the trees, no men struck from the shadows as they entered the woods. This did little to calm her. Instead, a sinking dread filled her gut.
“Wait,” Volf hissed, grabbing her. She turned to him, wondering what he’d sensed. His head was cocked to one side, listening.
She too strained to hear what he was. There was something, a grunting? Rustling of clothes? It lasted a moment longer then more silence. She couldn’t even determine what it was she’d heard.
“What was that?” she whispered.
He shook his head and shrugged. He didn’t know either.
They moved on very carefully after that.
It was several heart-pounding moments later — dread filling Caerwyn at the thought of an ambush — that they came upon what had been the source of the noise.
“Gods!” Volf whispered.
Gods indeed. Caerwyn gaped as the scene before her. Bile rose in her throat.
Not far away the creek, perhaps ten feet across ran over its rocky bottom, babbling pleasantly. Where the creek split the forest, moonlight filtered down and illuminated a scene of carnage along its banks. Five of the barbarians were dead. Buckets were strewn around the scene. These people had been coming to get water and been slaughtered. Two of them were large men. One looked like he’d been stabbed through the throat, the other had no visible wounds, but lay splayed, a look of horror and pain on his face, stuck in death. Another, a woman, had had her neck broken, head horribly skewed — turned completely around — her face a mask of surprise. One of the men with Gosse had been a hulking brute and perhaps this was his work. The last two victims, both younger women, lay partially in the creek, blood from their wounds flowing out with the water, creating a darker flow as the stream moved on.
What amazed Caerwyn was that this had all happened in relative silence. She hadn’t heard any serious fighting, just some faint noises.
“Who are these men?” Volf breathed. Now she could hear the fear in his voice as well, the trembling hesitation.
“Are you certain you want to come with me?” she asked again.
“Ah…” She turned to see him frozen in the shadows. She heard him swallow. “Yes.” Though he didn’t sound certain.
“Volf—”
“Go! I’m fine.” He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Please move on before I change my mind.” After a moment, he tried to smile. “I’m fine,” he repeated.
He wasn’t. She was certain of that, but she nodded and led him onward.
As they emerged, cautious and wary, from the woods heading up the far side of the vale, she could hear the sounds of fighting above them.
The gates to the compound were perhaps two hundred feet away, and there were no guards visible, which did not bode well.
The time for stealth and hesitation was over.
She drew out her sword and put on her shield.
“Last chance,” she said half turning to Volf.
His eyes were hard in the moonlight. He too had his sword out, something they’d purchased for him before leaving Cold River.
“Let’s get these bastards.”
She nodded.
Then they were running up the hill to help the surprised villagers and free their comrades.
16
Jais faced the Dronnegir leader. He was ready for anything, his face hard, stoic, calm… he hoped.
Everyone had gathered back in this main hall to see what the verdict would be. Barami stood next to Jais. Elria was behind them again in the alcove with her father. Hildr was with her father, before them. The rest of the village, as many as could fit, crowded around them. Jais got the impression this was a momentous occasion.
“Tend to our sacred duty, the Dronnegir have, for age upon age.” The clan leader’s voice carried well, deep and resonant as it was. He seemed to be speaking to everyone, not just Jais and Barami. “Never faltered nor failed, have we, in our task. Protected the Sacred Being, we have, keeping its secret… until now.” The large man scanned the crowd around them. There was a certain accusing nature to his gaze. Was he blaming his people for others finding out about the dragon? That didn’t seem right.
The leader then turned that disapproving gaze on Hildr and she, strong as she had seemed, withered under it. She flushed with embarrassment.
This didn’t bode well.
“I doubt not that my daughter had a vision of this man.” He indicated Barami. “But many magics are there in this world, other than that of the gods.”
Jais’ heart fell. Those words were clear enough. The man didn’t believe their story.
“Drahksani possess many abilities, and one of them could have stolen our secrets from the mind of my daughter.”
“Now, just hold on!” Jais couldn’t listen to any more of this.
Yet at his words the chief’s stony gaze fell to him and several men raised weapons toward him.
Tension hung in the room, hot and thick.
“Attack!”
Jais’ heart stopped at the word, skipping a beat.
But the call hadn’t come from anyone nearby. It was distant and behind the crowd.
“We are under attack!” the call came again. “Men at the gates!”
Jais couldn’t quite make sense of these words. Was Caerwyn trying to free them? He didn’t think she’d attack these people though. But if it wasn’t her? Did these people have enemies? Where was Caerwyn? Was she safe? Would the chief think that this attack had been precipitated because of Jais and Barami’s capture? Would they be blamed? Were they to blame?
He just didn’t know enough.
He said the first thing that came to him in the instant of silence as everyone else tried to make sense of the call.
“Give us our weapons, we’ll help you fight!”
“No!” The leader’s voice was stern and sharp. “Take them away. To arms!”
Then everyone was moving.
Two men grabbed Jais. He resisted for a moment before a head shake from Barami stopped him, and he went with the men.
“What’s your plan?” Jais asked the Sout
herner. He didn’t care if the men around them heard.
“No plan. Just keep a careful watch. Wait for the right moment.”
Jais nodded.
They were ushered out away from the fight, which as far as Jais could tell was in the main square of the village, or somewhere closer to the main gate perhaps. Jais and Barami went out the other side of the longhouse with the outer wall about twenty paces away. The four men with them turned them to the left but didn’t get far.
Someone behind them barked out a command. Jais couldn’t understand it. The four men stopped. All of them turned.
Elria and Hildr were running from the longhouse with several weapons each.
Hildr said something else in their language and the men around them muttered. There was a final command from her, sharper, before they all stepped away from Jais and Barami.
Elria tossed Jais his swords as Hildr did the same for Barami.
“Whether or not our fathers trust you, we do,” Elria said as she drew out her own short sword and strapped on a shield. “I know you will fight to protect us. Perhaps that will help our fathers change their minds about you.”
Hildr handed Barami his shield then she, too, readied her own sword and shield.
Jais turned to Elria. He couldn’t quite reconcile the sight of her with weapons. “I thought you were a healer?”
She scoffed. “You’re a healer. You fight.”
He had no response for that. She was right. He shrugged.
Hildr said some final command to the four men and they were quickly ready for a fight as well. Then Hildr turned to them all with a gleam in her eye. “Shall we fight?”
They all charged between two of the triangular longhouses and into the square.
Nothing, not even his fight with the krolls and krolloc, could have prepared Jais for the carnage he ran into.
Blasts of fire exploded in the yard, sending men flying. Screams of pain and surprise echoed all around.
Jais and those with him came to an abrupt halt and simply stared in awe at the scene before them.
Several of the longhouses were on fire, men lay scorched and dying. The clash of steel on steel rang through the yard. It felt like the village was being overrun with enemies, but in truth there was only a small group clustered together on one side of the inner square formed by the longhouses. It was the one of them, laughing gleefully, as he hurled fire from his hands, that seemed to be causing most of the carnage. Guarding him was a brute, as tall as any of the barbarians, but built like Jais, broad and well-muscled.
“Gods!” Elria whispered. “I have to help them.” The ‘them’ in question were the dozens of men scattered around the yard, burned and dying.
“Do so,” Hildr said, her voice gruff. “We’ll do our best to protect you and fend off these…”
Jais understood her lack of words. They were men, but he’d never seen any man do anything like what that tall one was doing.
Elria, perhaps the boldest of all of them, ran out into the yard, finding a man nearby and kneeling next to him.
That prompted Jais to action.
He followed her.
What can I do against that? he asked his father’s spirit in his sword.
He must be drahksan to wield such magic, his father said, the tone analytical. This blade was tempered with magic when it was created, it should stop those blasts. Unfortunately, the only way you’ll know for certain is to put yourself in front of one. That choice is up to you, my son.
Drahksan?
But one of the other man with him was the dragon hunter. Jais recognized him from the attack on the road to Cold River not so long ago. That made no sense, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He ran out after Elria.
He got a chance to test his father’s theory quick enough.
The man throwing fire must have seen Elria run out to help her fallen friend and he hurled a ball of swirling flames at her.
Jais slid to a spot between Elria and the bolt of fire.
Barami called out to him, but he didn’t listen. He wouldn’t let Elria die if he could prevent it. He didn’t know if this would work, but he’d rather die trying than let the woman die alone and unprotected.
He lowered his sword into the path of the ball of fire. He’d closed his eyes for just a moment as the flames hit the blade. There was a blast of hot air, which blew past Jais, but beyond that… nothing. He opened his eyes to find his blade glowing with a faint reddish hue.
Oh, that is some potent magic. I can feel it. This from his father’s spirit in the blade. I don’t know how many of those I can take. Too many might turn the metal to slag.
Good to know. “I’ll just have to end this quickly,” he said to himself and charged at the magic-wielder.
The wizard threw another blazing bolt his way, perhaps uncertain what had happened to his first. Jais caught the fire on the blade once again, no hesitation this time. The blade grew brighter, a deep maroon.
The fire-thrower’s eyes went wide with shock and fear.
Good.
Then a lumbering shadow stepped in front of the wizard, the brute of a man Jais had seen earlier. He wielded a massive blade, serrated like a saw, nasty and already dripping with blood. Apparently Jais would have to go through this one first.
That huge blade descended, intent on chopping Jais in two.
But this was a fight Jais had fought before. This was no mysterious magic. This was like his fight with the krolloc all over again… only this man wasn’t half as big.
Jais grinned as he caught the serrated blade on his father’s sword and threw it off to one side. His arm throbbed from the impact, but not enough to stop him. His other sword flashed out. The brute hadn’t been expecting his attack to be thwarted. Thus, he was unprepared as Jais slid his blade into the man’s chest. The brute’s eyes went wide as he grunted and stepped back, off of Jais’ blade.
Now it was Jais’ turn to be surprised.
With the force of his blow, he should have plunged his sword into the other man nearly to the hilt, but the blade only bit a few inches, jarring Jais’ arm. Now the brute was shrugging it off as if it were nothing. Any normal man should have fallen, but the brute shook his head and roared, attacking.
Another drahksan almost certainly. It was the only logical explanation.
Jais swore as he blocked another blow, this one sending him to his knees. Apparently, the big man hadn’t put his full strength behind the first strike.
The brute put both hands on his sword and roared again, swinging the blade high in a great downward blow. Jais rolled away as earth was thrown up behind him from the force of the impact.
“Gods,” he breathed and rolled to his feet.
Three quick strikes to the man’s exposed side did seemingly little damage and had little effect. Though he noticed his father’s sword — still glowing like embers — seemed to be more effective.
The brute roared again and leveled a sideways swing at Jais.
Jais leapt, his legs were strong enough to send him high over the other man’s blade, and he let out his own roar as he hammered down on the brute’s head with both blades. The big man was quick and jerked to one side. Jais still cut into the man’s shoulder with his off-hand blade, but again, not deeply. He did however kick out as he descended and knock that huge sword from his opponent’s grip.
He landed, thinking he now had the upper hand.
He didn’t expect the punch to his gut.
The great fist sent him flying back ten feet, landing hard on his back with a thud that blew the air from him. He was dazed, but luckily, the man hadn’t charged in to follow up on his sucker-punch. Jais got up as quick as he could, though it seemed likely he had a cracked rib from the throbbing sting mid-torso.
He drew in a long breath, despite the increase in pain this caused, and drew upon his healing ability, now well-honed from his time learning with Elria. It didn’t take him long, just a moment to find the cracked rib and the area around it which was alr
eady swelling with a great bruise. He sent healing energies to that area and quickly the pain died. The rib reformed, and the other results of the punch dissipated.
Then he charged in again.
The brute had reacquired his sword.
Jais recalled something his aunt had done the day he’d met Caerwyn. Despite being a healer, she’d been able to affect the other woman’s body in a way contrary to healing. Jais, reached out with his senses as he crossed the short distance to the large man. It was hard to do since he wasn’t in physical contact with the man and most of the healing up to now had required contact. But he still managed to sense within the other man. He found the man’s heart, beating like a drum. There was no way to describe what Jais did other than grabbing and squeezing the organ, except it was the brute’s own body doing it at Jais’ command.
The man grunted and doubled over.
Jais leapt again. He put one foot on the brute’s shoulder to give him a little more range and height, then arched high up, to come down on that wizard. A wordless war cry came to his lips.
The tall fire-thrower turned. Eyes growing wide in the faint few heartbeats before Jais came down on him.
The man’s mouth moved, saying some word or command—
Jais’ swords swept through where the man had been as the fire-thrower vanished. Jais landed hard, his scream of fury turning into one of aggravation and frustration.
He spun around, but all the enemies were gone. The brute and the dragon hunter, they had all vanished with the fire-thrower.
Jais was left breathing hard as a heavy silence settled over the village.
“Jais!”
He looked up to see Caerwyn running toward him. She looked around frantically. “Where are they?”
Jais dropped to one knee, the fatigue of battle starting to weigh on him. He needed a moment. He wasn’t truly weary, just… confused and frustrated.
“I don’t know. They all just vanished.” He had assumed she’d been talking about the attackers.
“Vanished?”
He nodded.
“Jais!” This call turned his head the other direction. Elria glanced over her shoulder at him. “If the fight is done, we need you!”
Shadow Soul Page 10