by P. D. Kalnay
It was awkward, but I continued holding the shield behind my head. There were no visible openings on either side of the street. The buildings were as collapsed there as everywhere else. They just didn’t have any convenient holes that I might duck into to take cover. Something smashed loudly off of the shield, ringing it like a gong. I glanced back, without slowing, and saw a head-sized rock tumbling away to the side of the road. It had felt more golf ball sized. Shock-absorbing enchantment—check. There wasn’t time to celebrate. The road forked left and right up ahead. I’d determined to take the downward fork, to the left, when three goat-legged satyrs, armed with short bows, came from that direction. I pushed harder and made it to the fork ahead of them. But not by much.
I desperately cut right. The three nocked arrows and drew their bows. Even I could hit somebody with an arrow at that range. I was already running my fastest. Now, I tried to add zigzagging to the mix. Ivy said that satyrs were archers whose skill was second only to her own people’s. The shield was slowing me down, so I let it fall to my side. The twang of bowstrings heralded the three arrows that hit me; or rather, the three arrows that hit my shield. All three arrows shattered into little pieces and fell away beside me. Another of my enchantments appeared to be working. The chances that three arrows would hit a swinging shield, at right angles to their direction of travel, were slim. Attract projectiles to the shield’s face—check. I’d have been excited about how well my shield worked. If I hadn’t been so busy.
Three more arrows shattered against my shield before the curve of the road once again cut off the line of sight between my pursuers and myself. Desperate, and out of breath, I ducked into the first dark opening that presented itself. Then I slithered backwards between some rubble and tried to keep both still and silent. Seconds later, I heard feet running up the road. I heard them stop on the other side of the wall.
“Where’d he go?” a low voice asked.
“Still running, I reckon,” said another.
“You lot gonna chase it,” asked a third, higher pitched, voice.
“Not me,” said the first voice. “Didn’t look to be worth any gold, and we’re running out of time. There’s still room in the holds to fill.”
“Come on then, lads,” said the third voice. “He can’t have gone far.”
Heavy feet moved on up the road. There was some jingling on the other side of the wall before conversation resumed.
“Back to the warehouse?”
“Aye, after a short breather. You lads missed the boy with both shots.”
“I didn’t see your arrows hit him!”
“Which only proves there’s some enchantment at play… how else could I have missed?”
“Ha,” snorted two voices at the same time.
“Still, I don’t know what he is.”
“Looked a little fae to me.”
“A little, but not quite. I didn’t recognise him either.”
“I saw his shield well enough.”
“Aye.”
“Young for a knight.”
“Aye, but there’s no gold to be had in fighting him, knight or not.”
“Come on. Sooner the holds are full, the sooner we can leave.”
“Aye.”
I waited, long after the sound of their hooves faded away, before squirming out of my hidey-hole. Now, in addition to hungry, thirsty, and scared, I was filthy. The dark ashes of a thousand years of burning covered me, but I was still alive.
I was more nervous moving forward now, having been spotted, and, having gotten a look at the raiders. Ivy was unlikely to come to me, and I was getting thirstier by the minute, so I continued up the road, peeking fearfully around corners. I made it back up to the curving boulevard, at the front edge of the highest terrace, without seeing more raiders. That’s when my luck ran out. I’d just started eastward down the road when a dreylun man stepped out from a narrow alleyway. The Dreylun are a race of mountain dwelling people, hailing from the northernmost mountains of the First World. He was as tall as me and twice as wide. Although he was covered in long greyish brown hair—and looked a bit like a Sasquatch, the measuring look he gave me spoke to a keen intelligence. A long axe rested on his shoulder. One pale blue, and one solid white, eye looked me up and down.
“So, you’re the lad who’s causing all the fuss?”
There was nothing bestial about the voice, but I couldn’t help noticing his mouthful of sharp teeth and long canines.
“I’m here to find my friend,” I said. “I’m not looking for any trouble.”
“That’s the thing about trouble lad… it usually finds you.” He looked down at my shield. “You’re no knight.”
“No.”
There was no point in lying.
“You must have found that then. I’ll tell you what. You give me the shiny shield, that knife on your belt, and whatever else you’ve got, and I’ll look the other way as you scamper off.”
It sounded as if he might actually keep his word, but I wasn’t going to give away the things I’d made. For a large number of reasons.
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“Hard way it is then.”
He rolled meaty shoulders and sprang at me without warning. I barely got my shield up in time to block his axe. Like the stone from earlier, I felt little of his strike in my arm. And, like the arrows, the axe head shattered on contact. Instinctively, I drove the shield forward into his chest. The raider was thrown several paces away, onto his back. I crouched, ready for his next move. He just sat up and rubbed his chest, making no move to rise.
“Where’d you find that shield lad?” He didn’t sound especially angry.
“I made it.”
“You did a bang-up job of it. I’ll give you that. Most surprising thing I’ve seen since that fae whelp killed those idiots from the Ivory Slive.”
“Do you know where she is?” I asked.
“Nope. Don’t care either. I’m guessing she’s the friend you’re looking for?”
He climbed slowly to his feet as he said it.
“Yes.” I raised my shield once more.
“You make that necklace too?”
“Yes.”
He flexed his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.
“It would seem,” he said. “That you are the biggest prize to be had on this rock then. Come quietly, and co-operate, and you’ll find serving on my ship a comfortable enough life.”
“No thanks.”
“I wasn’t asking lad. Just giving you one chance at the easy way. It’s not a problem… I’ve always been partial to the hard way myself.”
The huge dreylun took up a more cautious fighting stance.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “But I won’t let you get in my way.”
“Your shield’s impressive, but it’s mainly a defensive weapon. Now that I know… I’ll be a lot more careful.”
I took a step back and put a hand on my knife. Then I pulled it an inch out of the sheath. Instantly, I felt a queasy sensation in my gut. The dreylun took several steps back, and made a retching sound, like a cat coughing up a fur ball.
“What is that thing?” he asked.
“Something else I made. I’ll use it if you force me to.”
He took a few more steps away from me. It was hard to believe, but I thought he might be legitimately scared.
“That’s unnecessary,” he said. “How about a trade, fair and square? I’ll take you, and your friend, off of Knight’s Haven, to the port of your choosing, in exchange for the shield. You won’t find another way off before the dragon comes—and the Hall is locked tight.”
“Not possible,” I said.
“Everything is possible. It’s always a matter of price.”
He was a safe distance away, so I swung the shield out and showed him the vine tattoo on my wrist.
“Not possible,” I repeated.
“Ah.” He nodded his understanding, “I suppose not. You and the girl will be in a pickle when t
he dragon arrives…”
“I’ll be going now,” I said. “Unless…” I pulled the knife another inch out of the sheath. It made me even queasier, but I tried not to show it.
“That’s enough, lad. You’ve convinced me.”
He backed away, crossed the street, and then turned, heading back the way I’d come. After making sure it wasn’t a trick, I pushed the knife back into its sheath and dashed off eastward again.
Chapter 17 – A Feathered Foe
I had to scramble to make it over the rubble at the eastern-most end of the boulevard. After that, the going was easy, and I left the city of Havensport behind. I’d exited the city a third of the way up the terraced slope. For the first hour, I stayed on the same level and focused on moving away from Havensport. I kept an eye out for Ivy, and anybody else, but I figured she was more likely to see me than the other way around. The lowest terraces were the only ones not overgrown or burnt to blackened earth. Neat furrows filled long, narrow fields that had been stripped of their crops. I did my best to stay concealed behind low rocky walls, or brush, wherever possible. When forced to move across an open space—I did so quickly. It was hard not to continuously glance back at the city. The steep slope left me more exposed than I liked.
Before long, I switched my shield to my right arm. That made it less of a shiny mirror on the sunward side. After an unsuccessful attempt at smearing the front with dirt, I decided it was the best I could do. Nothing stuck to the shield’s surface. Switching sides also gave my sore left hand a break from holding the shield’s handle. My shield didn’t weigh much, but grasping the handle for so many hours had taken a toll on my damaged hand. When I reached the first irrigation channel, I didn’t stop to consider whether the water was safe to drink. I knelt at the edge of the narrow stone ditch and plunged my face into the cool water. It felt amazing. After a quick, and questionable, washing of my hands in the stream, I drank handfuls of the water—stopping only to catch my breath. At first, the water tasted sweet. When I was no longer thirsty, the water tasted of ashes. I felt a lot hungrier too.
I didn’t have a water bottle, so I stayed by the stream to take a break, and drank to the bursting point. Several streams had been visible from the city, but I didn’t know how far apart they were. Feeling better, and slightly cleaner, I continued on my way. After more walking, looking, and worrying, the vine tattoo on my wrist began to itch. Soon after, it hurt. Then pain washed across my entire body. If it weren’t for the burning of my hands, it would’ve been the worst pain I’d ever felt. I took another step forward, and the pain doubled. I stepped back, and the pain diminished. Just ahead, in the middle of a mostly barren field, grew an unimpressive green vine. That vine was shorter than my arm. The closer I got to it, the more the pain increased.
Walking an experimental circle around the vine, I discovered that I couldn’t come closer than fifteen feet. A single step closer and I came near to passing out. The pain increased exponentially with proximity to the vine. There was no way I’d ever make it close enough to touch the thing. It didn’t matter anyway. According to Ivy, the vine couldn’t be destroyed while we lived. Attempting to do so would only cause us debilitating pain. Based on how much I hurt, just standing nearby—that was easy to believe. I moved further back and instantly felt better. Having tasted a fraction of the pain the vine could give, I knew I’d never be able to leave the island. That made me think about the pain Ivy must have suffered when the vine had been planted half a world away. Thinking about it made me angry enough to forget my hunger. It also made me angry enough to stop paying proper attention to my surroundings. That carelessness almost cost me my life.
I didn’t see, or hear, my attacker’s approach. What saved me was the smell. Take every mouldy, rotten, and nasty stench that’s ever made you gag, and multiply that by a hundred. That’s roughly the level of stink that assailed my nostrils. A stink so powerful it caused me to look back—in time to see an enormous winged creature swooping down on me for the kill. I rolled desperately to one side and felt talons rake my back and tear my tunic. Quickly, I found my feet and raised the shield above my head. It would have been nice to switch it back to my left arm, but there wasn’t time.
As soon I got the shield up, the creature’s talon’s grasped the edges, and fought to tear it from me. Still in shock, I struggled to keep my feet and to hold the shield. Wings, which must have spanned twenty feet, buffeted me with wind and stench. It screamed at me, and worse… sprayed me with stinky spittle. Thanks to Ivy’s lessons, I knew that I fought a harpy. Harpies were one of the semi-intelligent species of the First World. The reality had little in common with the myths told about them on the Seventh World. Ivy reckoned they were as smart as chimpanzees, and said they were often trained for hunting, guarding, and scavenging.
The harpy’s talons were wider across than dinner plates, and though its body was probably no larger than an orangutan’s, it must have been just as strong as one. Big, bright yellow eyes glared at me from a face that was one part angry woman and one part wise owl. From a distance, taking away the smell and murderous intent, the harpy might have been an attractive creature. Its feathers were iridescent green-blue, and its ears were tufted like a great horned owl. I noted most of that later.
With both hands on the handle of my shield, it was all I could do to keep it from being torn from my grip. Reaching down for my knife wasn’t an option. The harpy continued to struggle and scream above me. I mostly held on for dear life. After a few minutes of this, I realised that we’d reached an impasse. The giant-bird monster didn’t seem to be tiring, but I was. The surrounding terrace consisted of open, empty field. Step by step, I dragged the harpy to the low wall at the edge. The rocky wall stood only a foot high; just enough to keep the dirt from washing away. I glanced down and saw that the terrace below was covered with short grassy looking plants. It was an eight-foot drop. The stone wall angled gently out and away from me. With no time to come up with a better plan, I stepped off.
The harpy was powerful, but not lifting-Jack-into-the-air powerful. My weight pulled the creature down with me. When it hit the low wall, the harpy released my shield with a startled screech. I tried to control my short slide down the smooth face. That proved unsuccessful, and I ended up in a heap at the bottom of the wall. Nothing seemed broken. I got the shield back up and looked around for my attacker. The harpy was nowhere to be seen. A low copse of trees grew at the northern end of the terrace. Most of them were little taller than me, but I figured anything that might foul the harpy’s wings would be to my advantage. After switching the shield to my left arm, and determining that the cuts on my back were only deep scratches, I dashed north, keeping the upper wall tight to my right-hand side.
The harpy didn’t attack again until I’d almost made it to the trees. I expected the attack, and had a half second of warning as it swooped down with the sun at its back. The low sun hid my attacker until the last moment, when the harpy blotted it out entirely. Back when I’d made the shield, I’d turned most of the rim, but had left one quarter of the edge sharp. Worn left-handed the sharp part ran along the lower outside edge. At the last instant, before the talons reached me, I swung the shield, on edge, up at the approaching harpy. Like Mr. Ryan’s sword, the shield’s real weight was greater than its enchantments made it feel. The whole thing was paper-thin, and the sharp part of the edge… was like a long curved razorblade. My swing cut one leg clean off and sliced deep into the harpy’s mid-section. Then my world was all feathers, blood, beak, and screams.
I’d foiled the harpy’s attack and caused it to crash. Right into me. It smelled worse up close. If I hadn’t landed such a crippling blow, that would’ve been the end of me. The fight that followed made use of none of the skills I learned from Mr. Ryan.
Pound for pound, animals are stronger than people. The harpy and I might have been about the same weight, but it was far stronger. If you doubt that… try giving a cat a bath sometime. I wouldn’t have wanted to go toe-to-toe with a g
olden eagle, and wrestling the harpy was like fighting a two hundred pound golden eagle. I punched, kneed, and elbowed desperately. The harpy clawed, flapped, and pecked at me. As I said, the injuries I’d inflicted made the difference. My opponent rapidly bled out, and eventually, I was able to bring my shield back into play. Once I got the shield between us, the harpy’s ability to attack me virtually disappeared. Then I got to bashing it for all I was worth.
I’m sure the harpy had been dead for some time before I finally stopped hitting it with my shield. I totally lost it at the end. Now I sat, leaned up against the wall, looking at the remains of my attacker. It looked smaller, all bloody, crushed, and mangled. The wings were askew at wrong angles, and one side of its face was a pulpy mass. I was covered head to toe in blood, feathers, and stink. New cuts, and bruises, covered me. Nothing felt broken, and none of my injuries appeared to be life threatening. Properly exhausted, as though I’d run a marathon, I didn’t want to move. It was the smell that forced me to my feet.
At the end of the terrace, past the low patch of forest, ran another irrigation channel. It was wider and deeper than the first one I’d found. Wide enough, and deep enough, to lie down in. That’s what I did. I just let the shield fall and rolled into the water. I lay there with only my nose and chin in the air. The cold of the water forced me out before the stink had washed away, but I was less stinky.