Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy)

by J. S. Morin

  Many of the officers had climbed atop the oxen to ride at leisure rather than walk among their men. G’thk smirked down at Jinzan from his perch atop the back of an ox, as if lording his authority over the human sorcerer as he watched Jinzan plod along among the common soldiers. Jinzan had bluntly refused to have anything to do with the beasts of burden and made every effort to keep himself upwind of them as he walked. G’thk had been quite tolerant of his human eccentricities during his stay with the goblins, but Jinzan knew that he had begun to push the limits of their friendship with his presumptions. Jinzan was important among his own people, but the goblins had scant interest in an alliance with the Megrenn. Their current arrangement was one of mutual convenience. At some point, he would have to smooth relations with the goblin general.

  Jinzan had never been a great lover of nature, and the beauty of the woodland surroundings and the fresh, clean air were lost on him. The sea he could respect, but the woods were a place where things lurked. There were myriad little scents to it that meant nothing to him, and the sight lines were so short that anything might lie in wait just beyond his vision. It was not his place, and he disliked the strangeness he felt traversing it.

  The walk itself bothered him just a little, though he was careful not to let any sign of weakness show. Jinzan’s magical powers had slowed his aging greatly, so that he appeared to be in the hale summers of his middle twenties despite twenty additional summers’ wisdom to the contrary. His time was spent at activities of mind more often than those of body, however, and his limbs were ill accustomed to long exertion. He grimaced in pain as a cramp worked its way into his calf. Mindful of the watchful eyes of the goblins, he ran his fingers through his thinning hair, a nervous habit he had developed long ago that he used to draw attention away from his facial expressions as he composed himself. A meditative trance or a spell to mask the pain in his aching muscles could have made short work of such simple aches but he did not wish to be seen as frail by the goblins.

  How strange, he thought, that I worry these twig-limbed runts will think me frail.

  They paused a short distance from the battlefield and sent scouts to search for signs of any enemies left lying in wait around the area. When the scouts reported the area to be clear of Kadrins, the army proceeded into the area.

  Jinzan saw straightaway that the battle had indeed been an incredible slaughter. Camp debris lay scattered and destroyed about the clearing. Many holes had been dug about the perimeter, more than a few containing the broken corpses of goblins who had been so unfortunate as to fall into them with enemies near at hand. Bodies, both human and goblin, littered the area and the surrounding forest. Most of the bodies bore battle wounds from spear or sword, and there were scorched and burned corpses in abundance as well.

  Hardened as Jinzan was to Kadrin misfortune, he might have felt some sympathy for the fallen had any of them been lying wounded and suffering. There was something primal and awful about the nearness of death that tugged at his carefully buried compassion. He had never been able to abide the torture of even his most hated enemies, though on more than one occasion, he had held sway over the fate of Kadrin prisoners. But there was nothing on the forlorn battlefield to give him pause—just worthless corpses. The dead were beyond pain, beyond his pity.

  As he surveyed the battlefield, two areas caught Jinzan’s eye as he tried to piece together what had transpired. First was a cluster of corpses within a few paces of each other that bore strangely garish wounds. They appeared to have been slashed by a sword, but the wounds festered, looking gangrenous and discolored. Even on skin that had no cut upon it, there were blisters and a rash-like reddening. It was the work of that enchanted weapon, Jinzan had no doubt. The other spot of interest was the scorched region in the middle of the camp. The ground had been burned elsewhere in places, but here it had a baked, cracked look to it, as if there had been an incredible heat for some time that had parched the ground and made it look like a desert. A moment of conferring with the survivors marked the area as the spot where the human sorcerer had collapsed.

  Jinzan cursed his lack of woodcraft, for he could not tell which way the humans had gone when they fled the battle. Untold days of occupying the site had left footprints and tracks all about, and he could not judge which were the most recent. He sighed in frustration and knew he was going to have to wait for the assassin to track down the Kadrins.

  Throughout the afternoon, the goblins went about the unsavory task of clearing the bodies from the battlefield. It was a large job, considering that there were nearly as many dead as there were goblins to bury them, and the human bodies required several goblins to move. It could not be helped, though, if they were to occupy the campsite; the carnage was already beginning to attract scavengers. With their small spades, a score or more of goblins began digging graves just outside camp. Jinzan noted with interest, despite his impatience, that the goblins were preparing the humans for burial as well. He could not tell whether it was a show of respect for the enemy dead, or a mere extension of the pragmatism they showed in laying their own dead to rest where carrion-eaters could not reach them. He knew that his own people likely would have just piled the bodies and set them ablaze. It was quite obvious to Jinzan how little thought the Kadrins had given to the dead.

  * * * * * * * *

  It was nearly dusk when Gkt’Lr arrived in the newly erected goblin camp. The runner that had been sent to retrieve him had not yet returned, though; the fleet-footed assassin had outpaced the runner and left him behind by more than a league. Gkt’Lr’s business often required covering long distances quickly, and he was as fast as any member of the Assassin's Guild. He held the rank of Master of Eternal Night, second only to the Grandmaster of Darkness in the Cult of Knives hierarchy, a position that could not be attained by those lacking in any of the guild’s deadly areas of expertise.

  Wasting no time, Gkt’Lr approached the goblin general and presented himself. [Your summons was urgent. What task do you have for me? Has your pet human displeased you?] the assassin asked with a touch of dark humor.

  Jinzan could not quite keep his nervousness from being reflected in his face, and he found himself running an involuntary hand through his hair yet again.

  [There was a battle fought here at dawn,] G’thk responded, letting the jest slip, though a smile betrayed that it privately amused him. [A group of humans escaped. Among them are at least one knight, wielding a deadly magical sword, and possibly a wounded sorcerer.]

  [How many are there?]

  [We do not have a count.] G’thk gave a sidelong glare toward one of the goblins who had survived the battle. [But it was fewer than a score, by the account the survivors gave.]

  [Am I to kill them all, then?] the assassin asked casually, as if it was a task of no consequence.

  [That is your task. I will pay whatever price your guild demands for this service.] G’thk hoped to avoid any lengthy haggling over the assassin’s fee, for fear that the humans’ head start might allow them to reach safety before the assassin caught up to them.

  [Very well, then. I will begin my pursuit at once. I trust you will not forget this promise, once the job is complete,] said Gkt’Lr, and it was G’thk’s turn to shift uncomfortably at the assassin’s remarks.

  The assassin made a search of the immediate area and concluded that the humans had crossed Grey Crag Brook. The goblins’ earlier search had noticed the number of tracks near the riverbank, but they had assumed that the humans had merely used the brook to wash; it was too deep for a fording, by their estimation. Gkt’Lr scoffed at their foolishness, pointing out that either the Kadrins used magic to cross, or that the water must not have been too deep for the taller humans to wade.

  Undaunted by the prospects of crossing the water, Gkt’Lr reached into a small pouch at his belt and pulled out a pair of items that drew strange looks from the onlooking goblins. They were small wooden pieces the shape of an axe head, but much smaller, with strings hanging from them. The end of the a
xe-head shape was hollowed out, and the assassin slipped his toes into the hollows and secured them by tying the strings behind his ankles. The result looked something like a goblin with duck feet.

  Ignoring the whispered wisecracks from among the soldiers looking on, the assassin began to use some sort of magic. Gkt’Lr bowed his head and closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Jinzan strained to make out the barely audible whisper of the assassin’s voice, or to discern the subtle motions of the goblin’s fingertips as he traced tiny patterns in the air in front of him, but to no avail. He felt the aether swirl into the assassin as the magic came to a climax and was completed. The assassin looked up, appearing satisfied. He took a few running steps in place, his legs moving in a blur, then started toward the brook. In three running paces, he hit the water, and to the astonishment of the soldiers watching him, he kept running. Ring-shaped ripples of water echoed from each shallow footprint left in the brook’s otherwise tranquil surface as the assassin sped across, lightly running on the water. In less time than it took the goblins to overcome their surprise, the assassin reached the far bank, where he removed the devices from his feet and quickly disappeared into the forest.

  * * * * * * * *

  Gkt’Lr had little trouble following the trail once he was free of the jumbled mass of footprints that had been left at the campsite, both from the battle and from occupation by human and goblin armies. There was starlight and moonlight in plenty filtering through the treetops, and goblin vision was little impaired by dim light. The heavy feet of the humans marked their path clearly, and there was no evidence that his quarry had made any attempt to obscure it.

  The assassin followed the humans’ trail all through the night and the next day, pausing only twice for a quick bit of sleep and a small meal consisting of dried strips of meat. The humans seemed to be traveling due north, which made the task much easier. Still, Gkt’Lr was wary of deception. The Kadrin Empire lay to the east, across the Cloud Wall Mountains, and there were smaller outlying colonies and settlements to the south. North of Kelvie Forest was disputed territory, where the humans were more likely to find enemies than allies. He was watchful always for their path to turn or double back. He knew it cost him time to be so careful, but part of his reputation was earned by never failing a job; that meant that he never allowed himself to make foolish mistakes.

  In the waning hours of the night, not so long before dawn would brighten the eastern sky, his vigilance paid dividends. The humans had stopped and milled about for a while, then turned west. It was a baffling decision, and Gkt’Lr could only assume that they suspected pursuit and were trying to throw off the trail. After all, travel far enough to the west and they would end up in goblin territory.

  He followed the trail west and very soon came upon a small cottage nestled among the trees. It was a curious sight, as Gkt’Lr knew of no inhabitants of this part of the forest. Woodcutters made large camps that were clearly marked by large swaths of felled trees. Perhaps this was a trapper’s dwelling. The assassin approached for a closer look and could just make out the sleeping forms of a number of humans. He saw no sentries or anyone awake and on guard at all.

  This is too easy, he thought, drawing his dagger from its sheath.

  He paused briefly, closing his eyes and trying to feel around the area for Sources of aether that would mark hidden animals or humans that might raise an alarm if startled. He was surprised by the amount of aether in the area but could sense nothing that would indicate that a human or nocturnal creature was creating it. It seemed to be coming from the plants in the area—a particularly aether-strong species to be sure.

  He crept toward the sleeping Kadrins, assured now that only a failing of his own stealth lay between those humans and their deaths. His progress was slow and deliberate as he savored the moment before his easy task was over. Only his own self-discipline kept him from crying out then, when suddenly he felt his dagger being plucked from his hand. Quickly he spun about, still silent despite the sudden movement. He caught sight of a flash of white as something disappeared behind a tree some distance off.

  He broke into a run to pursue whoever or whatever it was that had pilfered his dagger from his hand, the luxury of stealth lost to him and replaced by the need for quickness afoot. When he got to the tree, he saw nothing there, and as he looked about, he caught sight of the running form of a human cresting a low rise and being lost to his view.

  Gkt’Lr ducked low as he approached the top of the small rise, and he crawled the last few feet on his belly. He peered over the top and quickly pulled his head back down as he saw a human looking directly at him. The human was sitting on a fallen log, with an amused expression on his face. The assassin’s initial reaction had been a reflex, wrought of long winters in a profession where paranoia was a boon. With a moment to reflect, he decided that the human was neither running nor hunting him but rather waiting. Standing up and trying to sort through the bizarre situation in his head, the assassin approached the strange human and hoped for a parley.

  The human sat watching as he approached, and Gkt’Lr noticed that he now held his dagger in the upturned palm of his hand, as if offering its return. The human was a strange one indeed. He was small, not really so much larger than Gkt’Lr, who was considered rather imposing among his people, and his hair looked white in the starlight. His clothing was crude, though—animal skins stitched clumsily together—and did not look like it would provide protection in battle.

  “Waaat youuu waaant?” the assassin asked in Kadrin as well as he was able.

  [A bit of an explanation about your intentions, if it would not trouble you too much,] the human said, astonishing Gkt’Lr with his fluent goblin-speech. The human smiled at the assassin’s obvious surprise—a sight that unnerved the normally cool-headed assassin.

  [So you speak my language, human,] Gkt’Lr replied. [But I see no reason to answer to you. You do not look like a soldier, so I do not believe this involves you.]

  [Perhaps not to your mind, no. But I did not notice you carrying any other weapon, so if you are thinking about murdering anyone in their sleep, I do not expect you shall have much luck. I do not imagine you could strangle any of them to death without waking everyone up.]

  The human casually tossed the dagger into the ground at his own feet, the point sticking into the soft earth.

  [So what will you do then, human?] Gkt’Lr asked, inching forward with the thought of making a grab for his dagger.

  [Just warn you. I am not going to let you bring harm to the humans who lie sleeping by my house. I merely stole your dagger to bring you away from them, so we would not wake them with our talk. I could just as easily have buried it in your throat, as slowly as you reacted,] the human answered, and Gkt’Lr stopped his approach toward the dagger. [So do you want this back?] The human reached down and picked up the dagger again, grasping it by the hilt.

  Gkt’Lr did not know how to answer. Was the human toying with him, or bargaining? Should he make a break for cover and hope to evade the human who had snatched a dagger from his alert grasp? He thought back to his own exploits of the previous night, when he had used a spell to speed his own movements. Biding his time, he focused his thoughts into the aether, and tried to discern if the human was using a similar spell and whether it had worn off yet.

  A sudden look of horror crossed the goblin’s face, and his thoughts snapped back out of the aether. He stared directly at the human once more, terror evident in his wide eyes.

  It cannot be, he thought.

  [Something wrong?] the human asked mildly, arching his eyebrows.

  The assassin did not stop to answer but turned and fled toward the west, the easiest direction away from the dangerous human. He was not silent and no longer cared, having found something far more urgent than his assignment for the moment. There could always be another attempt on the humans, but he knew he stood no hope of succeeding that night.

  A flashing blur sped past Gkt’Lr’s face, and he recoi
led quickly, hearing a solid thwack just inches from his head. His dagger quivered slightly, embedded to the hilt in a tree just to his left.

  “You forgot your weapon,” the human remarked in his own language, standing just a few feet away.

  The assassin looked at the human in continued amazement, wondering how he had appeared so close by without a sound, then looked back to the dagger just for a moment. When his attention turned back to the human, he was gone. Gkt’Lr scanned the area but saw no sign of him. His immediate, reflexive thought was to peer into the aether winds to check for signs of him, but he dismissed the idea out of hand. After all, he knew he could not find the human that way.

  He gave a tug at his dagger, but it was stuck fast—not surprising given how deeply it had been sunk into the wood. Calming himself a bit, the assassin used a spell to remove the hopelessly stuck weapon from the tree. Still trembling from the worst fear of his life, Gkt’Lr set off back toward goblin territory. He needed reinforcements.

  Chapter 8 - A Magnificent Curse

  Kyrus blinked a few times to clear his eyes of bleariness and looked around. It was light outside the shuttered windows of the bare room where Davin had slept just two nights past. Groaning, Kyrus eased himself up to his elbows and attempted to gather his thoughts. The left side of his face felt sore, apparently from having it pressed against the wooden floorboards all night. Sometime after he had passed out, he must have rolled into a position where he was lying with neither of the two lumps on his head resting on the hard surface. He shook his head ruefully at the thought that having his face flattened against the floor was the most comfortable position he was able to find while he slept. It seemed that the part of his mind that watched out for him as he slept was an idiot.