Villains by Necessity (v1.1)

by Eve Forward

  The villains woke some hours later when their captors brought them a few bowls of thin cold soup and some bread. Kaylana took these and, since she was the only one unbound, began to distribute them. At a nod from the guard she loosened their bonds enough for them to feed themselves. The guard, she noticed, had two friends with him as back-up; another male warrior and a woman in the same garb, with a wicked-looking longbow at the ready.

  Blackmail, as usual, ate nothing. Valerie took her share weakly, still not turning toward the guard. Sam took a quick glance, and saw that the fine skin of her mouth and lips was raw and scraped, but the leather gag was chewed to fragments and hung limp and sodden around her neck. It was night again; Sam judged it must be about two in the morning. The cool darkness outside called to him. Valerie seemed to feel it too. He could sense the faint prickly feeling of magic as her long-nailed fingers slowly closed about her Darkportal. Almost hidden Tinder her long black hair, one large violet eye winked at him.

  Sam sneaked a glance at Blackmail, who nodded ever so slightly. The assassin casually slid his hand into his boot and withdrew a slim, balanced shaft with a needle point and a flared end, the whole about six inches long, along with a wafer-thin fletching that fitted at right angles into the flare. He rubbed the needle against a small glob of resinous toxin under the flap of his boot, and then abruptly sent the dart zipping through the darkness, easy as any pub-toss.

  The second male warrior gripped his biceps and gasped, and a swirl of darkness courtesy of Valerie flashed across the tent and enveloped the woman archer.

  She stumbled, her longbow falling from her hands.

  Before their guard could raise his club, a heavy mailed fist came down on his head. He staggered, and glared at Blackmail, who seemed almost surprised. Then the dark knight shrugged, and hit him again, and this time the guard folded over to join his unconscious friends. Sam and Blackmail quickly dragged the unconscious bodies into the tent. Kaylana and Robin watched in surprise, while Arcie took advantage of the distraction to grab another loaf of bread.

  “We must move fast,” hissed Valerie, as she climbed to her feet and pulled off the remains of her gag. “They’ll be bound to check up on us soon.”

  “Where do you propose we go?” replied Kaylana. “If we flee into the wilderness they shall only catch us again.”

  “Not if we were to get rid of their longneck beasties for them,” mumbled Arcie through a mouthful.

  “No! We should just stay here,” whinnied Robin, his ears flicking. “They haven’t hurt us yet, but if we try to escape they may shoot us!”

  “Robin, you have a lot to learn about survival,” retorted Sam, from where he was ripping the more accessible clothes from the fallen warrior. Blackmail was doing the same for the tall guard he had felled.

  A short while later, the tent flap opened slowly. A tall figure, clad in leather and a voluminous fur cloak with the hood pulled over its face, stepped out, clanking slightly. It was followed by another leather-wrapped figure, somewhat smaller, and then Kaylana, Valerie, Arcie, and Robin. The shorter figure turned to whisper to them, as Kaylana quickly donned the female barbarian’s hooded cloak.

  “Blackmail and I will go and let the Tantelopes out. Kaylana, we’ll need you along to help handle them ... Valerie, can you make some explosive distractions if they seem to start to notice us? Arcie, you and Robin and Valerie all get out of town as fast as you can.”

  “What?” hissed Valerie. “You mean I have to pin my escape upon the actions of the short one. and horse-boy?”

  “Valerie,” Kaylana broke in gently over Arcie’s and Robin’s protests, “we need you to take care of the thief and the centaur. They may need your magic to allow them to escape.”

  “I dinna need no-” began Arcie indignantly, but Sam nudged him and he fell silent.

  “Better yet, Arcie,” he said, “can you sneak around and get our weapons? That would be useful.”

  “And how, by Baris and Bella, am I meant to carry all yer swords and daggers and the like?” retorted the Barigan.

  “Specially yon knight’s great meat cleaver? I can’t so much as lift it!”

  “I gather, then, that you’ve tried?” said Valerie, with an arched eyebrow.

  “Well, just find them then, and tell us where they are,” snapped Sam in exasperation. “We can’t stand here talking all night. Go!”

  They split up, the three cloaked figures making their cautious way into the encampment, the centaur and sorceress swiftly heading out of the area as stealthily as they could, and a small, stout figure vanishing into the shadows of the surrounding tents.

  Robin and Valerie made their way along the rough path they had been brought down before. A guard, all in leathers, rose up out of the darkness to challenge them; Valerie fired off a blast of negative energy, and sent the watchman tumbling silently down the far side of the hill.

  The sorceress and centaur scrambled up the hills until they reached the edge of the gully. The night was dark, but the stars and campfires illuminated the encampment with a silver-gold light. The leather-hide buildings, flapping softly in the night breeze, made the camp resemble a nest of huge, sleeping beasts. Arcie could not be seen, but after a moment they did see the three hurrying figures of their companions moving toward the Tantelope pens.

  “Can you do something, I don’t know, with the weather or animals or something like that, to make a cover for our getaway? To hide our tracks, and that sort of thing?”

  Sam asked Kaylana.

  “Yes,” came the soft reply. “I will need a moment, however... and it may take awhile for the effect to manifest.”

  They turned a corner, following a strong animal smell, and came within sight of the Tantelope pens; an area fenced in with high barriers made of leather ropes tied between tall poles. The Plains barbarians were nomadic, each taking their turn with the seasons to visit the holy Temple of Mula here in this gully. All the tents and enclosures could be folded and packed away for travel at a moment’s notice. When Sam saw the few guards by the animals’ pen, he quickly pulled himself and his companions into hiding behind a tent used for storing the saddles and tack of the beasts.

  “You’d better take your time now to do that distraction and hide our trail,” he whispered to Kaylana.

  “Very well,” agreed Kaylana, and, gripping her staff, she closed her eyes in concentration. Her head tilted back, and her hair fell like copper fire in the flickering light of campfires, the same light that shone on her cheekbones and highlighted a face of such beauty and sorrow and wisdom, and the faint aura of ancient, natural, primal power floated in the air around her...

  Blackmail tapped Sam on the shoulder, interrupting the assassin’s thoughts. Sam returned self-consciously to the matter at hand.

  “Right,” he whispered sternly. “Now, we’ll need to take out those guards ... how many did you count?”

  A gauntlet held up three fingers. Sam said, “Three, yes, and there’s one more at the far edge, looking out across the plain. You take the two closest, I’ll get the others.”

  Sam pulled a length of stiff cord from the seams of his shirt, silently wishing for his blowgun, or a dagger, or even another dart. He slipped out into the shadows and a moment later heard Blackmail move as well.

  The first guard was sitting facing away from Sam. Sam decided that a large rock by his feet would do as a weapon. He scooped it up and brought it down heavily on the man’s head. The barbarian grunted and folded over. The other two inner guards got up and cautiously approached the nearby clanking sounds, their spears at the ready. As Sam crept up on the outermost guard, he heard a sound like weapons rebounding off invulnerable armor, and then a noise like two thick heads being knocked together, then a double thump. The Tantelopes snorted and began to move about.

  Unfortunately, this was enough to attract his target’s attention. The barbarian stood up, saw his companions missing, and shouted a warning. Sam was astounded at the roaring power of the man’s voice. His sudden bello
w not only brought answering shouts from the camp but spooked the Tantelopes, who added their low, honking voices to the din. Sam saw the barbarian heading toward him and did not hesitate to lash out with the cord and quickly loop it around the barbarian’s thick neck.

  Sam was used to the lighter folk of the southern and western Six Lands, and this man’s bull-thick neck was almost too broad for the cord. The barbarian roared and flipped the slight assassin over his head, slamming him into the dirt. Sam leapt up before the man could jump on him, and dodged a wild roundhouse swing. He brought his own hand up, blindingly fast, to slam with what should have been disabling force to the solar plexus. He might as well have tried to hit a stone wall. The barbarian didn’t even grunt, just let loose a blow that caught Sam on the side of the head, sending him flying. The night exploded, and Sam experienced a brief sensation of weightlessness and numbness, then scrambled to his feet as the fire flowed into his blood ...

  The barbarian approached; the fire danced in Sam’s muscles and washed the pain and weariness away, drove away the concern for stealth, and replaced it with the double force of the urge to kill and the urge to survive.

  The night became a red and black blur.

  The next thing he noticed was a thundering of hooves.

  The fence had been torn open, and Blackmail had found a long whip and was cracking it loudly. The panicked Tantelopes galloped out into the night, honking and wheeling into the darkness. Sam looked down at the still form of the barbarian he had fought. There was a large hole in the man’s neck.

  Well, he thought, Tirrik’s Bite. And Miffer said I’d never master that attack. What would he say if he could see me now? And then, remembering how Miner was now an honest, good citizen, thought wryly, He’d probably vomit.

  He had no chance to speculate further, because just then somebody hit him.

  Kaylana had sent her mind sailing out into the night. The weather was clear and vast, no storms would be brewing for months, so a good bit of rain was out of the question.

  She paused to stir the soft, nervous minds of the Tantelopes in the pen, enhancing their natural fear and flight instincts. Then she moved on, out into the wilds, into the minds of a thousand living things. Her Druidic spirit could sail far along the winds of nature ... it was bringing it back that was the problem. This was similar to a magical spell of Seeking ... both required the caster to slip their spirits from their bodies, a dangerous and unnatural thing to do.

  The Plains contained many minds, abounding in excess in the times of Light and life. She reached out with all her power, as far as she could, miles away, her arms opening up in a huge embrace, to gather them all... and then behind them, she placed Fear.

  First one, then another, then more, began to run. As they ran, they gathered others, who did not know why they were running but only that they must run. Bound together by herd instinct and ancient fears, they ran.

  She wanted to run with them, to let her mind fly free in the double feeling of pursuit and flight, to leave the poor, simple human shell behind her and ride forever on the wind of a thousand minds, minds that knew no good or evil but only the endless chains of life and death, linked for all eternity. She could see how easy it would be, to pull her spirit free of woman and staff and just be, a wild dancer on the winds of nature.

  She had stretched herself far to call the animals, far out past where any mortal should go from their own self. It was not worth the trouble and pain to return ... but... her dim memories sang a warning, the slow twisting torque of a world slipping out of balance; the animals felt it, the grass knew it, the earth ached with it. And with regret she recalled, dimly, that it was her duty and trust to stop. She had no choice but to return, return and continue.

  She left the minds running free as water and pulled herself back, slowly, painfully, her spirit crying and fighting as she forced it once again back into its prison of flesh.

  As she did so, she had a sudden vision. Her mind, still open from its journey, sensed a force. The pool at the center of the stone temple burned like a jewel in her mind.

  It shone in endless threat but with irresistible attraction.

  It dared her and seduced her and hypnotized her all at once.

  As her spirit settled into her body, she opened her eyes: the image and challenge still hovered in her brain.

  Around her she sensed motion, light, and shadows; the dim echoes of noise fluttered on her skin. But all seemed to have no more meaning than a world of ghosts; all that existed was the blue crystal pool. She walked forward, more awake than asleep, and the barbarians crowded around and past and by her, neither noticing the other.

  Arcie heard the commotion begin, and sighed to himself in the shadows of yet another tent. “Och, I did fear as much,” he said softly to himself. “No’ more’n some few minutes before the place is falling about our ears.” He scratched his curly head. “And none of yon hulking savages speaks the language ... no interrogation for me this day.” He looked around. “I must have searched full all yon tents times over ... where might a load of leatherbound clodpolls keep foreign weapons?” He thought a moment, then sighed. “O’ course. They would be giving them to their chief. And his tent will be yon great fancy one in the center. Surrounded by guards, I doubt not.”

  He settled his cap on his head and stood up, yawning.

  The discovery of a food storage had provided a few good mouthfuls of some jerky and a good swig of Barigan whiskey from a hidden cask, but he could do with a good sit-down meal and another few days of sleep. His limbs ached from the long march. “Well, if that be the case, then ‘tis a job for Sammy, not myself. I’d best be at finding him.”

  The short, pudgy shadow slipped off into the increasing chaos of the night.

  Up on the hill, Valerie and Robin watched the Tantelopes wheel away into the plains, and then heard the commotion begin in the village. Valerie sighed and stood up.

  “The fools can’t do anything without creating a fuss,” she grumbled to herself. “Well, if distraction they want, then distraction they get.”

  “What are you going to do?” Robin asked nervously, shifting from one hoof to the other and swishing his tail.

  Valerie treated him to a toothy smile, made somewhat worse by the few flecks of blood that still marred her lips from the gag.

  “Wait and watch and learn, boy. And be sure you spell vengeance correctly in your ballad.”

  She drew her right hand back, while her left hand closed around her Darkportal amulet.. Her fingers flexed slightly, and a slow, swirling ball of darkness laced with glowing red began to form in her hand. It swelled into the size of an apple, and with a final bitter word of magic, the sorceress hurled it down into the camp.

  It fell like a meteor, vanishing behind a tent. There was an explosive blast, and a gout of red-black flame bloomed up. The leather huts began to burn with a black, stinking smoke and sullen red flames, and the shouting and chaos increased.

  “You might have hit one of your friends!” Robin exclaimed, watching in horror.

  “They aren’t my friends. And it should serve them right if they are stupid enough to get in the way,” came the retort. Valerie was already spinning another flame- ball. This one she hurled away to the left of the first, nearer to the stone temple, and more evil fires started up.

  The smoke, instead of rising into the sky, clung and stunk along the ground in heavy clouds and coils.

  “I give you smoke, chaos, and panic, you incompetent rogues,” Valerie hissed softly down to her unseen allies below. “Use them.”

  Kaylana was almost at the impact point of the second blast. It erupted before her, causing screams and panic and a searing blast of heat. She was dimly conscious of blue-robed figures flooding out of the temple, carrying things. They swarmed past her as she walked slowly on, her staff measuring her steps in gentle beats. Before her loomed the stone entryway into the temple area. It seemed to be set with murals, depicting a female shape in barbarian clothing... sometimes it seeme
d to be Ki’kartha, the Heroine, shining with the power of her goddess ... sometimes it seemed to be Mula herself, radiant and glorious in a blue nimbus of Light energy. Sometimes it seemed both ... or was it always both? Where was the break between deity and avatar? The entry drew her in, past two fidgeting temple guards who did not seem to see her.

  She wandered through the open stone halls, her feet crunching on a path made of chipped granite sprinkled with turquoise. Priestesses and shamans shoved past her, heading out into the encampment to heal the wounded and extinguish the fires. Already steam filled the air from water-summoning magic cast by the worshipers of the goddess of fresh water and healing. Kaylana did not notice, but wove her way in through the spider’s web of halls, following a summons she would not deny.

  Sam managed to stagger back from his attacker and tried to recall the fire ... but his head was still spinning and he was still exhausted from the long march the day before.

  His back hit a leather wall, and he scrabbled at it with his hands behind his back, trying to find a way in without taking his eyes off his attacker. The barbarian who had hit him was enraged at the death of his kinsman, and as he raised his huge Plainsman’s sword, the assassin saw red flickers in the shafts of obsidian and wondered if he would survive to see the firelight on Kaylana’s hair again.

  Suddenly a hand grabbed the man’s weapon from his hand and hit him smartly over the head with it, then smacked him powerfully on the side of his cheek. The barbarian fell, groaning. Only one person Sam knew was strong and tall enough to do that, and he stood up as Blackmail bowed graciously to him. Sam let out a faint sigh of relief.

  “Thanks, Blackmail ... I owe you another one,” he said with a faint smile. The knight made a dismissive gesture, and then a shooing motion. Sam took the hint and fled into the shadows, and Blackmail grabbed a support pole from the tent Sam had rested against, and pulled it down. He hefted the Plainsman’s sword thoughtfully, giving it a few practice swings, and then headed off purposefully into the confusion.