by Guy Estes
A wave of the deceased's tribesmen came rushing over the bowl's rim to crash down into its interior, screaming their high-pitched war cries. Baezha did not hesitate to send as many arrows as she could into the screaming red wall of savages. Aleena cursed herself for not having a distance weapon, but her short-range weapons soon became a perfect complement to Baezha's bow, as there were too many savages for Baezha to engage at once. Those that slipped past her arrows met Firethorne head-on. Dead savages littered the small circle of sand they occupied. However, despite the sisters' legendary skill and the power of their weapons, they were being overwhelmed. The Bachli Armahn were simply too numerous. The women started backing away toward the rocky slope behind them, and Baezha stumbled across a power source in the earth, a string for her to strum. She instantly wrought a spell that banished all heat from a small area. She fashioned this area into a ring that expanded outward from them in an arctic blue halo. The Bachli Armahn screamed when the ring hit them and produced such a horribly foreign sensation as frostbite.
“Light Firethorne,” she told Aleena. Aleena complied
Baezha scooped up a handful of fire from it as if she were scooping up a handful of rice. With a quick phrase, she tossed it into the midst of screaming savages. It exploded into a ring of fire, its effects magnified by the previous spell's opposite effect. The savages backed off. Aleena motioned for Baezha to go up the slope first. Baezha did not question Aleena's motives, for she knew her sister's thoughts as well as she knew her own, and that required no magic. She scrambled over the rocks, as agile as a lizard, and found a good position from which to cover Aleena's retreat with her bow. She kept up a steady shower of black shafts as Aleena hewed down two more enemies before scrambling up the slope herself. A handful of savages followed her, but most of them sent up their arrows. Aleena took several hits, but the crude bows and arrows were no match for her armor. Baezha shot arrows more quickly than Aleena would have thought one person could, but she was hopelessly outnumbered.
She stopped shooting and flexed her mind, tapping into the local power source and reaching out to grab what she knew was there. The Bachli Armahn had no way of knowing what she was doing. They knew only that one moment they were pursuing the two outlanders and the next a rockslide was bearing down on them. Stones ranging from pebbles to small boulders had succumbed to Baezha's will and tumbled down to the savages massed at the bottom of the bowl. The sisters' morale climbed as a multitude of red antagonists were crushed, but there were more men in the horde than there were loose stones in the vicinity, and the multitude of survivors were even angrier than they had been. Aleena and Baezha were about to resume climbing the slope when an arrow thwacked off of Baezha's armored back. They turned and saw more Bachli Armahn swarming down from the rim above them. Even the mighty spells Baezha conjured could not kill them all or frighten them off.
"They have no word for surrender," Baezha said. Aleena shook her head.
"Then I suggest," Baezha continued, "we try that tunnel."
Aleena looked to where Baezha was pointing. Behind them, there was a small tear in the rock, and Aleena had to duck her head to enter. Baezha sent another flame spell, followed by one of cold, at their attackers before entering the tunnel and following Aleena into the unknown. They trotted several paces down the tunnel, stopping only when a huge chasm yawned before them.
“A good a place as any to make our stand,” Baezha said. “Here, take Nightfall.”
She handed Aleena her bow and quiver.
“The magic here is weak,” Baezha said. “But I can use Darkthorne to strengthen it some and give our boarders a hot reception. You shoot those I don’t get.”
Baezha drove her sword blade into the rock floor. She kept one hand on the hilt and extended the other before her, chanting softly. Aleena nocked an arrow and held the bow ready. Within moments the Bachli Aman were swarming down the passage towards them. Aleena loosed an arrow while Baezha unleashed some sort of green hell that brought forth screams. More savages came, and Aleena drew and loosed arrow after arrow with fluid grace. Baezha released fire, ice, lightning and things Aleena couldn’t identify. Though it felt like an hour had passed, it was only a few minutes before the Bachli Aman stopped coming. The sisters waited silently.
“Either they’ve given up or we’ve slain them all,” Baezha said.
“Or they’re waiting for us to emerge.”
“Let us find out.”
Baezha withdrew Darkthorne from the floor and the sisters moved towards the cave entrance, their going made slow by the carpet of bodies. Many were stuck with arrows. Others were charred, frozen or damaged in ways Aleena could not name. Some were petrified. Aleena shuddered at seeing the horrific things magic could do.
Peering out into the desert, they saw more dead savages. Cautiously, like a turtle sticking its head out of its shell, they emerged from the cave. After progressing several paces in silence, they began to let themselves relax. The sighed with relief and grinned at each other. Then they were surrounded by a company of archers.
CHAPTER 24
They estimated the company to have about fifty men, and they were not Bachli Aman. The sisters knew when to fight and when not to. Even with their gifts, there was no way they could defeat the entire company before receiving a few clothyard shafts through their skulls. They stood and held their hands away from their weapons. An order was given and a man came down to take their weapons. She told herself it was silly, but Aleena could not help feeling somewhat violated to have this spineless slug of a man lay his grubby hands on her faithful Firethorne. She also could not help smirking like a cat when Firethorne took his head off as it cleared leather. The soldiers shifted on their feet, glancing at one another. A higher ranking man stepped up to the sisters.
"Grant them permission to handle your weapons," he ordered.
Aleena forced herself to laugh. "And if we refuse? You are hardly in a position to enforce your wishes."
"Nor will your heads be able to absorb the storm of arrows we will release. Even the witch cannot unleash enough magic to kill us all before we loose our shafts."
They laid their weapons out on the sand and stood back. It was obvious that these men were Anlon's, for they were too disciplined and well-equipped to be desert nomads, and Anlon's army was the only one roaming the Badlands that was looking for them. Aleena and Baezha wondered the same thing.
How did they know where to find us?
The leader had some lower ranking men collect the weapons (lest there still be danger) while having the women put in chains, something that very nearly drove Aleena to suicidal resistance. She'd have preferred making love in a vat of tarantulas to being chained. She managed to keep her emotions under control, though, and the troops formed their marching order with spearmen at the sisters' backs and the rank before them several paces ahead so the women could not strangle them with their chains. Then they set out for Anlon's lair.
"At least we will find him more quickly," Baezha quipped. She got a spear shaft cracked across her back, accompanied by a barked threat of what happened to talkative prisoners. They marched until nightfall, then bedded down for the night. Aleena and Baezha were chained to iron stakes driven deeply into the ground. The stakes were so heavy that not even their strength could pull them free, and there was no energy reserve for Baezha to access. This whole country seemed to be devoid of all but the weakest strings, and they were far too weak for Baezha to do anything with without her enchanted weapons to use as amplifiers. Enough men kept watch over them that even if Baezha employed psychic power, they would bring the sisters down. They were given some water and dried meat and, as long as they kept their mouths shut, they were treated quite well for captives.
The next day they marched for only a few hours before Anlon's home came into sight. It was a dark and menacing fortress squatting in the middle of the dusty plain, its glossy black stone easily seen against tawny sand and sapphire sky. Black and beetle-browed, it regarded
their approach like a stern judge. The black, boxy appearance was offset by a white dome at the top of a tall protrusion of black stone that stabbed up from the middle of the fort's interior. The two women could dimly see the white columns that supported the white dome, a graceful curiosity completely at odds with the rest of the stronghold's grim architecture. Several towers stood at various points on the fort's walls.
When they reached it, Aleena and Baezha were powerless to stop themselves from marveling at the sheer vastness of it, made more apparent by the fact that it seemed to be made of a single, unending plane of glossy black stone. No joints or fissures were visible. Either it was crafted with such incredible skill that the joints simply could not be seen, or it was made in such a way that there were no joints. Both women wondered if such an awesome feat of engineering could be done and, if so, how would it be possible to polish the monolithic leviathan to the degree it had been? Even in their precarious state, the sisters could not prevent their inquisitive minds from wondering about the brooding fortress's creation.
As they neared the base of the outer wall, they saw the layer of sandstone that served as a foundation and the guards that patrolled the top of the wall. Baezha's heart soared as she sensed the proximity of a power source of a magnitude she'd never dared to dream of, an oasis of magic in the magic-starved desert. These were not merely strings of power, these were ropes, cables, giant and braided and dense. Her hopes were dashed, however, as they entered the storehouse of magical strings. She could feel the magic's presence, but she could not access it. Every time she tried, it was like trying to pull open a door that had no knob.
The immense gates swung open at their approach, the great timber creaking like a ship's rigging, and the huge iron portcullis screeched its displeasure at being disturbed as it was winched up. The courtyard they entered was easily big enough to hold training maneuvers for mounted cavalry, which was exactly what was going on as they entered. The mounted troops ceased their charging and tilting to make way for the captives their lord so desperately wanted.
The company stopped marching when they reached the main fortress housing, a tower that narrowed considerably as it extended one hundred fifty feet up and terminated with the white dome they'd seen during their approach. They entered the castle with the company commander, the soldiers bearing their weapons, and four spearmen at their backs. After traversing two large front rooms, they entered a spacious throne room, dimly lit despite the numerous torches flickering along the walls. Across the gulf of flagstones was a throne on a dais, and upon this throne brooded Anlon.
Anlon had made a suit of armor for himself, along with a sword, and he'd had Mathias enchant them. His mail and segmented plate armor were virtually indestructible, as was his sword. Anlon had given the armor a finish that made it look like bronze. His longsword had been finished to look like gold, but it was steel, like his armor. Its three foot blade had the same enchantments as Firethorne and Darkthorne. The cross guard’s tips turned at right angles to point to the blade, and a topaz crowned both of them. It was made of bronze. The tan leather grip was crowned with a bronze bulb pommel, which was also crowned with a topaz. It was propped on a stand on his right.
As they marched over to him, both women made certain that they stood tall and proud, and they maintained this queenly bearing as they stood before him. Aleena looked him in the eye. His face seemed to have changed, yet the physical structure was the same as Aleena remembered it. His eyes never sat still, as if they were looking for some unseen nemesis. His jaw looked more rigid, and the glint in his fearful eyes was hard and unforgiving. He also seemed paler.
"Hello, Brother," she said. " 'Tis good to see you again."
Anlon was silent for a long time as he looked at Aleena. Then he shifted his gaze to Baezha.
"She is Chosen," he said to Aleena while indicating Baezha.
"She is. This is Baezha Ambrose, our sister."
Anlon grunted. "What is her major gift?"
"Why not ask her? She has a tongue."
"Well," Anlon prodded.
"Magic," Baezha answered.
"You know," Anlon said, "it is customary for visitors to kneel before the lord of the castle."
"Would you not make an exception for your dear sisters?" Aleena asked sweetly.
The company commander shoved her shoulders in an attempt to force her down. Aleena, her rage barely in check from having been put in chains, whirled and struck the man with the edge of her flat hand, as rigid as a plank of ironwood, and splintered his jaw. A spearman cracked a shaft across her face right before Baezha crushed his ribs with a kick. She reflexively reached for the power she felt around her, but her will was denied. She knew that in order to access the power source, she would need a key, something akin to a password. Baezha had no idea what the password was, but someone else obviously did. A spell wracked her body with pain, as well as Aleena's, until they were writhing upon the floor, their bodies twisted like corkscrews. Gradually, agonizingly, the pain receded, and they were left panting and gasping.
"So, Brother," Aleena panted, "you fear us so much that you can no longer fight us yourself? You are even more pathetic than I thought. Perhaps my last cut injured something more than your backside."
Anlon's face lost what little color it had possessed, and he looked as if he was having heart failure, but then he smiled.
"Things have changed since our last meeting, Sister," he told her.
"Yes, it appears that you've degenerated further into the mire of your own arrogance."
Now Anlon looked genuinely hurt. "Aleena, how can you say such? Last time, you kept saying how you did not want to fight me. Now you seem to be deliberately provoking a fight."
"I am. I grow tired of your posturing, Anlon. Because of you and your bloody insecurities, my life has been turned upside down. I had made it back home and was just beginning to enjoy myself when your lackey arrived and ruined everything."
"Apparently, Duvdarra was feeling ambitious."
"He was, and he is not here, so you can deduce what happened. My purpose in besting you in the arena was to give you another chance, Anlon. You had to know defeat. We all must suffer the humiliation of another besting us. I wanted you to learn from the experience, but instead you have let it fester inside you until it has driven you completely mad."
"Words, Sister, nothing but words. Marcus told me you’d use fighting me as a means of escape, and he was right. That was exactly what you did. You used me, Sister! You held me up for public humiliation and used me as a door step!”
“I had no intention of fighting you, Anlon. When our fight was concluded, I used the opportunity, but only once that opportunity presented itself. It was not something I planned from the start. And if you recall, I invited you to join me. You threw the invitation back into my face. Even during our fight I extended my friendship to you, but you spat it right back out. I would’ve liked nothing better than to escape with my brother by my side, but you would not allow that. You were the one determined we should fight. You are the one unwilling to face your weakness, so you are now controlled by your weakness.”
“Spare me your virtuous rhetoric! What could you possibly know of me? You didn't face the trials I did. You weren't saddled with the burdens I was. You had your perfect little childhood with your perfect little parents and your perfect little cottage and your perfect little school. What do you know about the ways of the world?"
"The slave traders showed me. Anlon, I know some bad things happened to you when you were growing up, but bad things happen to every child. Bad things are an inescapable part of life. I am sorry for you, but we all go through it, and it is done. Let it go."
"A nightmarish childhood is not that easy to let go."
Baezha laughed, arresting everyone's attention. Until now, she had been silent, content to let the two adversaries exchange words.
"Anlon, your childhood was far from a nightmare."
Anlon looked her up
and down, then his eyes were captured by hers.
"What could you know about it?" he asked.
Her deep, obsidian gaze held him and seemed to peer directly into his soul as she replied, "More than your small, self-absorbed mind can possibly imagine."
The woman was chained and helpless, yet she made Anlon feel like a trembling servant boy. He made a gesture. A giant dusky-hued man strode out of the shadows. Anlon pointed at Baezha.
"Take her to Mathias," he ordered with a hoarse voice. The huge man’s expressionless face never changed as his fist sent Baezha into unconsciousness. He put her across his huge shoulder and carried her out of the room.
"Who is Mathias?" Aleena wanted to know.
"My wizard. He has been anticipating our sister's arrival for some time, now. As for you...well, what are we going to do with you?"
"You can forego the act, Brother. You are far too predictable, a bad habit for people in our profession. I'm amazed you've survived as long as you have. We both know why you demanded my presence."
"Oh? And why would that be?"
"You want to face me again in an attempt to redeem yourself for your failure in the arena. Of course, no matter what happens you will ultimately lose. Even if you slay me and Baezha, you will still have yourself to face, and that is one opponent you do not dare to challenge."
"You think I am that petty?"
"Yes, I do. I think if you want your precious rematch, you can have it right here and right now, because I am sick to death of watching your pathetic attempts to act like a man when you are nothing more than a scared little boy cowering in warrior's armor!"
Anlon's fist smashed into her nose, and Aleena stumbled back a few steps. She caught his leg with her chained hands as it tried to kick her in the head and fired her own into his exposed crotch. He fell and swept her legs out from under her. They both rolled to their feet and Anlon kicked her in the face. As he stepped down from the kick, he closed with her and pounded her face with rapid punches. He fell into a rhythm, his fists slamming Aleena's bloody face in a harsh staccato of meaty smacks. Aleena stopped feeling the individual blows and was aware of only a constant agony on her face and a roar in her head. The blows came too quickly for her to do anything but stumble back, and the punches followed her. She finally fell. Anlon stood over her, panting, and sweat ran down his face to drip off his nose and chin. Aleena could hardly see him, for both of her eyes were swelling shut. Her nose was broken several times over, and her lips had been reduced to pulp.