Convergence

by Joe Jackson

  Kari felt the pulse of her divine patrons within her breast, but though she kept them close to her heart, she didn’t call forth their power. This was her duel, something that had been a long time in coming, and she trusted the martial prowess of her teachers to see her through. The only trace of divine power she let show was the symbol of Zalkar, shining through her breastplate, all the better to remind Taesenus that she was here not for her own vengeance, but for justice. She wanted to kill this man more than was healthy, but when she did the deed, it would be to repay him for all those he had slain since his mother set him on his murderous path.

  Finally, one of the katanas leapt forward in a deep thrust, and Kari went against her instincts, instead ending up in a spot safely away from the companion sword’s follow-up. She dropped back two steps, forcing him to come at her, and he finally began his offensive routines. Kari slapped aside strike after strike, but he left few avenues for counterattacks. Her defensive style was typically based around capitalizing on mistakes, but Taesenus made few of them.

  She went against instinct again, and began meeting Taesenus’ offensive routines with her own. They wove about each other, their blades a web of death between them, but neither landed a single blow. And, Kari mused, it would hardly matter if they did – both were well-protected by their paluric armor. While Taesenus’ suit wasn’t complete, he was immortal – or at least damned near impossible to kill. Kari was going to put that to the test, but such was going to require a perfect strike or counter combination.

  Kari tried baiting him and then catching him with a high kick, but again, he’d learned from their past encounters. He took the bait, but blocked her kick casually, and the two split apart and began to circle each other at a distance. Taesenus hated her, but she could see the respect in his eyes now. Kari doubted any other warrior had ever survived as long in combat against him as she had this day, and the fact that she had already bested him twice before drew that respect from him, if grudgingly.

  And in that, she found what she was looking for. He was complacent, confident even, convinced he could stand toe to toe with her, and that he was better. Kari grinned at him, and his eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around the hilts of his blades.

  “Want to see something?” she asked, backing over toward her pack.

  “Resorting to trickery already, Vanador?” he grunted with a shake of his head. The brief motion managed to bring those hellfire-like tattoos about his neck to life, something Kari found mesmerizing. They had always been a mystery to her.

  It was no matter, though. Kari got her pack and sheathed one blade while she crouched down, wary of being rushed. She opened the top and stretched its cinch, and straightened out as she drew forth Arku’s head by the hair.

  There was no mistaking his reaction. Taesenus was usually cold, showing little emotion but rage in the heat of battle. He had a dispassionate air about him that rivaled the staunchest of the beshathans, but not now. The sight of Kari holding Arku’s head up by the hair shook him to the core, his blades drooping in synchronicity with his jaw. He didn’t exactly look scared, but he was suddenly much less comfortable and confident.

  “I don’t know what possessed you to work with this scumbag, but the two of you burned down my house and threatened my family. Now you’re going to share the same fate as Arku, Taesenus. This is over. Our rivalry dies today. You die today.”

  Kari threw the head at him, and Taesenus hopped back gingerly to avoid it. It seemed an odd reaction from a man who so enjoyed decapitating his foes, but it was just the mistake Kari was looking for. By the time his attention returned to her, she was upon him, both blades in hand once more. His reaction speed was commendable, but she caught him cleanly, slicing out his left eye and carving a bloody groove down the length of his cheek.

  The Demon Prince stumbled back and brought his blades up before him. Kari, though, was already on the move, circling around him, battering his blades before she stepped in on him. She slashed the unprotected portions of his lower legs, then struck high under the arm, slicing the arteries in his left armpit. How much of an effect the wounds would have on a man who was reputed to be unkillable, she didn’t know, but she didn’t let it stop her.

  He turned with her despite the blood that was now running in a strong rivulet down his arm, the burn of the slice on the back of his leg, and the missing eye. His remaining eye was narrowed, staring at her balefully, but Kari kicked him in the chin, then followed it up with a backhanded uppercut, splitting his jaw the same way Turillia had split Kari’s years ago. With hardly a pause, she kicked him as hard as she could in the groin, then grabbed him by the hair and hip-threw him to the ground.

  It reminded her so much of her fight with Turillia, and she felt that same burning rage in her breast as she straddled him and began to rain punches upon his ruined face. Taesenus’ head bounced off the ground again and again, teeth and blood and saliva flying in all directions as Kari sent forth every ounce of vengeance through her fists. He may have been immortal in some sense and resistant to pain, but Kari’s onslaught rendered him senseless after a few minutes.

  She knelt over him, panting from the exertion, but she used what felt like the last of her strength to pull off his breastplate. She stared at the hellfire-like tattoos – or whatever they truly were – for only a moment before she took up one of her scimitars and drove it through his heart. His remaining eye, swollen shut, winced in pain, but it was hardly noticeable. He went still, and though Kari suspected he was going to heal in some fashion as soon as she left him, there was little else she could do.

  She did it anyway.

  Kari stabbed him again and again, her scimitar ripping holes through his chest, abdomen, throat, and then finally between his eyes. Vengeance may have been a dish best served cold, but Kari’s had burned in the fire of righteousness. She might never be able to kill him, but she had enacted vengeance for all those he had harmed or killed as best she could. And she had avenged herself and her family, finally.

  Kari left her scimitar buried in his skull while she stripped off the rest of his armor. She took the time to strap it to her pack after replacing Arku’s head in the satchel. She strapped the Demon Prince’s katanas in their sheaths across her back, and she was thankful paluric armor was so light. It was going to be an arduous trek to Anthraxis carrying all of this stuff…

  “I don’t know if you can hear me,” she said, kneeling beside him as she made ready to take her scimitar out of his head. “But if you can, listen carefully: It’s over. We’re done. If you’ve got issues with your mother, go take them up with her. Leave me out of it. Because the next time I so much as hear about you bothering someone, either here or on Citaria, I’m going to do something that’s going to get me in a lot of trouble with Zalkar. Think on that for a while.”

  Kari pulled the scimitar from Taesenus’ head, but thought better of kicking dirt on him or spitting on him before she turned to leave.

  My vengeance is almost complete, she thought. Just one thing left to do in Anthraxis, and then it’s time to go home and prepare for war.

  Kari turned to her right as she sensed she was being watched. A harmauth patrol beheld her from the nearby fields of Tess’Vorg, and she wondered how long the pair had been there. Had they seen her brandish and then throw Arku’s head? She’d been so focused on Taesenus and their duel that she hadn’t noticed. They simply stared at her, but Kari threw a fist up in the air, piquing their curiosity.

  “Epaxa chi’pri!” she called to them.

  The ram-folk were generally known for their stoicism, but Kari had never seen a pair of them run so fast. They had shared a quick glance, and then began to make their way farther into the realm, likely toward a nearby city.

  She chuckled darkly and began the long walk to Anthraxis in earnest once more. Things were about to get very interesting on Mehr’Durillia…

  Chapter XVI – Reunion

  Kris stayed crouched, waiting for the signal. Across the
way, their syrinthian liaison walked the perimeter of his property with a lantern in hand, checking for the reflection of eyes out in the woods. They were close to the eastern border now, but security had gotten tighter in the last day and a half. The Warlord hoped that meant Erik and Sharyn had escaped the realm. There had been no word of his recapture, even with the military units returning westward. If Erik and his companions had made it to a neighboring realm, then the hunters and trackers would be watching inward again, waiting for Kris and his friends at Agivak and Dauchin-Rache.

  A certain headless succubus we left in Arku’s keep would explain that, he thought. That is, if there was anything left of her to be found after the fires…

  They were in danger of being run down, but it was worth it in the end: Erik was free, one way or another. What fate would find him in the eastern realms was unknown, but it couldn’t be much worse than what he’d endured here. The Silver Blades remained trapped behind enemy lines for the time being, but they had several advantages compared to Erik: They were armed, armored, and better prepared to defend themselves.

  Best of all, they had help – and lots of it. Kris didn’t know much of the Ashen Fangs aside from the bits Liria told him here and there, but the syrinthian girl seemed confident that the assassins were involved in their escape. Whether or not they were directly involved didn’t much matter, but Kris paid close attention. Kari had reinstated Liria as a cadet, but vetting the girl was something that might never be complete. There was always the risk of betrayal, no matter how sincere the syrinthian’s “turning” appeared.

  Thus far, she had earned Kris’ trust. She didn’t seem to know the Ashen Fangs all that well, but her fellow syrinthians living in Si’Dorra were typically willing to help. They lived in scattered homes about the realm, and aside from one couple who was too scared to lend their aid, the Silver Blades had found shelter for days in the attics or root cellars of the snake-folk. Now, they were nearly free themselves, and they had Liria and her people to thank for it, whether the Ashen Fangs were directly involved or not.

  “Who goes?” he heard their syrinthian host ask, lifting his lamp higher to see into the dark of the woods.

  Kris had taken up position along the side of the house, Corbanis around the other side, waiting to see if there was trouble. Their hosts heard the sounds of approaching men in the night, and had bid their guests stay hidden in the cellar. Kris didn’t agree to that strategy. If trouble was coming, he wanted to be outside, ready to meet it head on, to protect his hosts physically just as they were protecting him by offering shelter.

  The rest of the Silver Blades followed his lead. Liria was inside with their female host, acting the part of a member of the household. Eli and Aeligos were sheltered on the edge of the woods, taking the riskier positions in recognition of their stealth and tracking skills. Katarina was sitting inside with her back to the windows, Kris believed, all the better to not reveal that she was human unless it became necessary.

  The Warlord crouched down tighter to the shadows as several dark figures emerged from the gloom of the woods. The glowing eyes of a rir often made hiding in the shadows difficult, but there were ways to mitigate it, and Kris used his cover to maximum effect. He trusted that his companions could weather the time of uncertainty, until it became clear whether or not to act. For now, their fate lay in the hands of their syrinthian host, and Kris had to trust him, too. At the same time, the Warlord was ready to rush into battle to defend his benefactors.

  “You have guests? A trifle odd in these times. Who are they?”

  Kris tried to take stock of the speaker and his companions, the Warlord’s low-light vision revealing nearly half a dozen elestram soldiers. They were armed and disciplined, and the fact that they were watching houses closely enough to see who had guests meant they were actively looking for someone – presumably, the Silver Blades. There was a good chance this would be a situation their host couldn’t talk his way out of, and Kris resigned himself to the fact that he might have to kill these soldiers, not just harm or drive them off.

  “My sisters, visiting from Olishad,” their host bluffed. “Midsummer is nearly upon us; you know my people consider this a sacred time.”

  “Only those of you who cling to the old ways,” the elestram returned coldly. “Perhaps the Overking would be interested to know that your family still bend knee to the forbidden.”

  “Please, we wish no trouble with His Majesty or the Overking.”

  The elestram officer backhanded the syrinthian male, staggering him. “Your people are pitiful. It would serve the Overking well if we simply wiped you out. But tonight, you at least have a purpose. We will have use of your home, and you will instruct your wife to feed us.”

  “We have guests… our home is already crowded,” the syrinthian protested, receiving another sharp slap.

  “All right, that’s enough of that,” Kris called in infernal, rising from his hiding place along the side of the house. He approached, putting the light from the home behind him so that he cut a more imposing figure, his wings unfurled slightly. “Touch him one more time, and you’re going to be buried here.”

  “Who is that there?” the officer called, weapons being drawn.

  “Get back in the house,” Kris instructed their syrinthian host. Thankfully, the soldiers didn’t impede his retreat or try to take him hostage. The syrinthian ran back and into the house, and once he was safely with his family, Kris turned to the soldiers. “As for you, I’m going to give you exactly one chance to turn and leave, and forget you ever saw us here.”

  “You are the Citarians that Duke Curlamanx has ordered captured,” the officer said.

  “That’s right. But you’re not going to try to take us into custody,” Kris said, surprising the elestram men. “You’re going to keep moving, pretend you never saw us, and leave us to cross into Ekkristis.”

  “And why would we do that?”

  “Well, for one, you’d like to live past this evening, and for another, you’ve got nothing to fear from Curlamanx. You see, he hid in your king’s keep while we killed Arku’s people – his consort not the least of them. Duke Curlamanx is in for a world of pain when Arku returns from the council meeting. So, whether you find and capture us, or even try, won’t much matter.”

  “You killed the king’s consort?” one of the others said, and their eyes all lit up at the same time. Kris realized that statement had the opposite effect he’d hoped for. “The rewards that will await us if we capture you…”

  “You boys got them surrounded?” Kris called loudly.

  “Yep.”

  “You know it.”

  “As ordered.”

  The elestram all looked about themselves in a panic as the sounds of the Silver Blades’ voices came from every direction. “I told you I was going to give you one chance to turn and leave,” Kris said, again in infernal. “Now you’re going to die here, though after the way you treated our host, I can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

  They started to rush at him, but Kris drew out Glory Stream first, and the sword bathed the area in a soft, golden glow. Once they could better see him, he drew out Black Diamond as well. If that wasn’t enough, Katarina and Liria approached from the house, the former bathed in a golden glow of her own that set the elestram on edge immediately. The final pieces fell into place when they started to back toward the woods again, only to find Eli, Aeligos, and Corbanis fanned out behind them.

  “Give the word,” Corbanis said, his Citarian speech drawing the attention of all five of the elestram.

  “We’re not leaving them here to hurt these people after we’re gone,” Kris said. “Do it.”

  Even Liria didn’t hesitate. Kris figured the fact that they were protecting syrinthians would only augment the girl’s protective nature. Together, the Silver Blades penned in and attacked the jackal-folk. The battle was short-lived, Kris and Corbanis doing the majority of the heavy fighting with their superior armor, leaving Liria to strike with oppo
rtunity and Aeligos and Eli to work on disarming their foes. Katarina used her greatsword’s more effective reach to stop any from escaping the carnage.

  Kris sighed, looking down at the mangled bodies of the elestram men. It was never easy to order peoples’ deaths, not even when they threatened the lives of others. He tried not to think on it too much, though, and sent Liria to retrieve their hosts. The Silver Blades would have to dispose of the bodies before morning, but in the meantime, Kris set Aeligos and Eli to covering the tracks of the elestram soldiers.

  “You could have given them another chance to leave,” Faezo, their syrinthian host, said.

  Kris shook his head. “No, they would have returned once we left and killed you, and then they would’ve chased us to the border. As soon as he started hitting you and suggesting that you and your wife were going to wait upon them, I knew this would be the only option.”

  “I thank you for protecting us.”

  The Warlord laid a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder, those golden snake-like eyes glancing at the hand before they met Kris’ gaze. “You’re taking a great risk sheltering us here; this was the least we could do in return, as inappropriate a gift as it may be. Liria?”

  “Yes, sir?” the girl slipped as usual.

  “What does Ashakku say about being a good and gracious guest?”

  The girl had to think about it for a minute, but then she smiled. “The gracious host and guest defend each other as brothers and sisters.”

  Faezo smiled. “Your parents taught you well.”

  “How did you know Ashakku had a specific teaching about host and guest?” Liria asked.

  The Warlord shrugged. “One thing I’ve learned traveling the world is that most faiths have a lot of things in common,” he said, then turned back to Faezo. “We’ll take care of the bodies and any sign they came here. By dawn, we’ll be away, and you should be safe. Is there anything else we can do to repay your kindness?”