Shard

by Wayne Mee

  Yet the High Gnash seemed not to have heard. Instead, his dark eyes feasted on the narrow, black blade that he now turned over and over in his bejeweled hands. A light, slender, beautifully crafted Kirktooth. Somehow Ragnol had managed to both bring it with him and keep its existence secret on the long, perilous journey back to Slathland. Just one more reason for Nex to hate the sly, cripple-handed foreigner!

  The High Gnash finally spoke. "It is said that a weapon made from the Wee'ns Black Gold is magical; that it can cut through iron and pierce the strongest mail." His words were directed more to the silence in the vast room than to anyone in particular. Yet it was Ragnol Halfhand that dared a reply.

  "Its 'magic', my lord, lies in its hardness. Though t'is small, the Wee'n who came at me with it all but ruined my own sword. I saw this very dagger pierce my shield and, had it not lodged there, I would not now be standing before you."

  The High Gnash's eyes narrowed to mere slits. Tarus Brag had seen that look often of late, and always it was followed by a fit of rage and a great deal of suffering. The old priest drew back even further into the shadows as the royal hand gripped Ragnol's shoulder. "We shall see this 'magic' for Ourselves!"

  A guard was summoned. The man strode forward and knelt before the throne. "Draw your shim and hold it thus!" The trembling Dragoon did as he was bid. "Steady, Slath take you! It is your Gnash that commands you!"

  With two hands the sweating Dragoon held the long iron sword before him. The monarch rose swiftly and swung savagely at the long shim. Once, twice, three times. The clanging filled the empty hall. The Dragoon was forced back under the fierce attack, yet the High One sought not the man's body, only his blade. Notched and bent under the vicious onslaught, the long shim eventually broke.

  The panting despot gazed down at the slender dagger in his hand. Not a mark showed on its dull surface. Glancing up, a look of pure joy on his cruel face, the High Gnash of Mighty Slathland spoke. "And now, for the final test." Like a darting cobra, Alexis V plunged the Kirktooth into the breastplate of the startled Dragoon. The black blade sank up to the hilt. For a frozen moment both man and monarch stood face to face; then, with a wrench the dagger was free and the guard sagged to the floor, his life's blood welling out of a wide rent in his heavy armour.

  Holding the bloody blade before him, the High Gnash again spoke; this time his voice as soft as a whispering lover. "You have done well, Halfhand. You shall not find me unforgiving."

  "But Sire --- ", the old priest said, taking a hesitant step towards the throne.

  "Silence, Tarus! For too long have I listened to your winnings! I have not forgotten it was you who advised against the expedition in the first place." He turned to Nex. "As for you, my 'trusted field commander', you have failed me. Halfhand here was to guide but YOU were to take charge of all military action!"

  Stunned by the sudden shifting of events, Nex could only bow before the 'Royal Rage' that he knew must surely follow. Surprisingly, however, Alexis V, High Gnash of all Slathland, smiled instead.

  "I should have your head on a pike, Nex, for failing me, yet because of Lord Ragnol's gracious gift, I will grant you one more chance. By the next full moon, three weeks hence, you shall have a full invasion fleet ready to sail. Yours will be the task of outfitting and guiding the fleet back to the Land of the Wee'ns. In all matters of seamanship and navigation your word is law --- but Lord Ragnol reg Das here shall be in complete command once you land." As though savoring the moment, the High Gnash paused for several heartbeats. "Is that clearly understood?!"

  Nex struck his breast and bowed, too shocked to do otherwise. The High Gnash waved him away then leveled a ring-encrusted finger at his high priest. "Tarus, old friend, fear not that I have forgotten you. The Law of Slath shall also be represented in this great venture, for I am sending you along as an observer --- see that you also do not fail me!"

  Visibly shaken, the old man bowed low, mouthing a silent prayer that he would not faint. Lastly, Alexis V turned back to Ragnol. Over the body of the dead dragoon their eyes met and held, then a slow smile spread itself across the High Gnash's cruel face.

  "Reg Das, since the first you have been a constant source of amazement to me. There was a time that I thought to have your head from your shoulders just to see that smug smirk of yours erased, but I see now that I was wise to restrain myself." He hefted the black dagger, then leaned forward, oblivious to the guard's blood that dripped on his costly robes. "Bring me back more of these, Half-Hand! Fill the holds of my Dragon Ships with this Wee'n 'Black Gold'! With an army wielding weapons made from such a metal the entire land of Oma-Var shall be mine!"

  Ragnol bowed low, his dark eyes flicking over Nex and the old priest. "Your will is my command, oh Great Gnash!"

  "Naturally," Alexis the Fifth smiled. "Naturally."

  ***

  Chapter 29 Is Lost.

  This part of the manuscript is missing.

  Gone, vanished, spirited away.

  It may be rewritten and it may not.

  Two important things only happen:

  Shard 'whispers' to Thorn, tempting him with endless power, but is at last rejected.

  Thorn then sees Ono, the bard Roary's 'little brother' watching him and decides to talk to the lad. He follows him to a pool and silently dives in --- only to discover that Ono is a woman. It seems Roary and her are overs, and that he 'rescued her' from a life of prostitution some months ago. She was 'owned' by a powerful man in a little town and that the two of them ran off together. To stay clear of the man's revenge he cut her long golden hair, dressed her as his little brother and headed for the most remote place he knew --- Blackwater.

  ***

  Chapter 30:'BRAVE BUT FOOLISH'

  A little before noon of the third day after climbing the High Falls at Land's End, Cynwulf informed them that they were now very near the Delgi stronghold. Scouts had reported seeing large bands of roving Karns ahead of them all hurrying northward.

  "It seems the Karns have not yet launched an all out attack," Gildar reasoned.

  "We may yet be in time, if we could but pick up the pace some!" Cynwulf snorted.

  It was obvious that the Rif-Dag did not care much for the Lake Warden. It was also obvious that the feeling was mutual; yet Gildar had given his word that he would come to the aid of the Delgii, and that was exactly what he planned to do --- even if it got them all killed.

  "I suggest 'hit and run' tactics," Gildar continued, glancing quickly at Dinn Orthal for confirmation. The old soldier looked about done in. The fight at Land's End and the forced three day march had clearly taken its toll. He rubbed his aching leg wound and avoided his commander's eyes.

  Gildar frowned and continued. "My archers can reap havoc among their ranks and fade back into the forest before they know what happened." A grim smile split his handsome features. "Karns are even more stupid than m ---, other races. Our losses should be almost none existent!"

  Cynwulf spit on the ground, then glared at the tall Nim-Loth. "You and your lot of pretty-lads here do as you see fit. I was ordered to fetch you and fetch you I have. Now I return to my folk." Bragi and Snorn joined him. As he turned to leave, Erin grabbed his arm.

  "Not without me, boy-o." His grey eyes fixed on Gildar. "I've no wish to come all this way 'n then play 'hide in the bushes' like a thievin' back shooter!"

  Kel moved up silently to stand beside Erin, followed by Thorn and a slightly hesitant Timin. Before Gildar could speak, Flynnial joined the determined little band.

  "Where The Raven goes I shall follow", Flynn said. "Besides, the desire is upon me to see these Delgi halls."

  Erin greeted him with a soldier's handclasp.

  "But --- but you'll all be killed!", Gildar half shouted. "Already too many have died!"

  Zoean's clear voice rang out as she moved to Flynn's side. Ever watchful, Nobert loomed just behind her. "Those that died at Land's End were wasted foolishly. It need not have happened, but what's done is done. This is something else
again. Perhaps it also is foolish, yet it is a foolishness that songs are made of!"

  Here her green eyes flashed over to the bard, who was standing off to one side, his harp cradled lovingly in his arms. He was smiling and a strange light seemed to dance in his eyes. He bowed low and walked over to stand by Zoean. "M' Lady! Your brave words have touched my soul, and though I may die this day, may the blessed muses grant that I first capture your fair words and bright deeds in a song!"

  So it was decided. They would go bravely forth to the aid of their friends. None would stay behind. Once Gildar saw the many set faces and grim smiles, even he too went willingly, for though he was vain, pompous and overly proud, he was far from a coward.

  This time however there would be no foolish charging in blindly. Cynwulf had told them of a secret way into the Delgi camp. There was a tunnel cut deep into the bedrock of the hill that followed the course of an underground spring. The door was cunningly hidden from all save those with Delgi eyes. 'Not all the old ways were lost when our forefathers settled in Tyree!', he had grinned.

  They would wait for the setting of the moon and then move cautiously up the slope. Ten would go on ahead, taking care of any sentries the Karns might have placed. Cynwulf would lead the ten. Bragi and Snorn, Erin, Kel, Flynn and the two Kirkwean to followed. Two Lake Warders completed the party.

  Zoean had wanted to go, but it was Mithdar that talked her out of it. Thorn didn't hear just what the old mage had said, but Zoean had flushed red, been on the edge of a tantrum, then suddenly turned and flounced away. It was then that Thorn realized that not all battles are won by brute force. The little Kirkwean sat down and waited for the silver moon to sink beyond the distant hills. It was not a long wait, but it seemed to last forever.

  ***

  The four Karns were squatted down by a fire growling over what appeared to be a dice game. One howled in glee while the other three grunted and grumbled in their brutish tongue. Off to one side two more shared a wineskin.

  Cynwulf held up five fingers and a thumb towards the others hidden further down the rocky slope, then indicated that the archers should position themselves and pick their targets while the rest prepared to rush in and finish the grisly job. There was a cruel smile on the Rif-Dag's face and as he turned to leave, his long queue catching the last silver rays of the setting moon. Flynn and Kel pointed at the two Karns with the wineskin, leaving the four dice-players for the others.

  The two Nim-Loth readied their bows, while Thorn fitted a round stone into his sling and moved to an open place in the trees. He had promised himself that he would not use Shard unless absolutely necessary, yet as he stood their a rarely seen part of him hungered to unsheath the terrible black blade and bathe it in blood. Timin, his little spear clutched tightly in his sweating hands, stood anxiously watching his cousin. Their overlarge eyes met and held. Thorn attempted a smile but had to turn away.

  Then the signal was given and the air was filled with the whizzing of shafts. One of the two 'gamblers' pitched forward and fell half in the fire, an arrow suddenly sprouting from its bull-like neck. The other one jumped up, a heavy mace it its meaty hand. A long shaft was already embedded deep in its leather chest armour, yet still it bellowed out a roar of rage. Thorn twirled his sling and struck the black monster square in its forehead with his stone. The creature sank to the ground like a felled tree.

  As Thorn fumbled in his pouch for another river rock, a deep war-cry split the air and Cynwulf, followed closely by the others, raced forward. Kel's bolt had found a patch of exposed skin under the left armpit as the creature raised its arm to drink. The arrow had come to rest in the massive heart, killing it instantly. Flynn, however, had not been as fortunate. The Narthrond's first shot had glanced off the boiled leather armour; deflected upwards, the shaft had pierced the blubbery lips of his target and held them fast like two pieces of skewered meat.

  The surprised Karn had let out a muffled scream as it turned, a heavy tulwar hanging from a chain in its trembling hand. The enraged beast hadn't shuffled forward two steps before as many arrows slammed into his massive chest. As the body fell, Narthrond and Chin nodded to each other.

  A seventh Karn, who had apparently been sleeping in the lee of a large boulder some distance from the camp, prepared to launch a spear at the exposed backs of the attackers. Erin felt the breeze of an arrow pass him by. Startled, he looked around to see a huge Karn slump forward out of the shadows, an overlong shaft protruding from an eye. 'Kel's save me again!', Erin's mind registered as he quickly pivoted, slashed open the Karn's stomach, then turned back to the business at hand.

  Four of the creatures were still up, and experience had taught him that Karns took a fair more killing than most folks! Closing with the enemy, Flynn had cast aside his bow and drawn his shortsword. The Narthrond had been in several skirmishes before, but always his bow had kept the ugliness of death at a distance. Only once had he ever faced an enemy with his blade, and that had been a hairy savage armed with a stone knife. The creature had been small, half starved and no match for the Narthrond. Flynn was now experiencing something new; a stronger foe intent on killing him as quickly and as viciously as it could!

  Suddenly a Karn loomed up before him. Black blood flowed from a gash across its chest but dull fire still blazed in its piggish eyes. Death, in the form of a twirling flail, a foot long iron bar on the end of a four foot chain, came hurtling at him. Flynn just had time to raise his blade before the heavy bar slammed into it, the chain wrapping round the hilt. Pain, like nothing ever felt before, coursed up his arm. A savage jerk followed, and the shortsword was ripped from his grasp. The yank drew him forward into the waiting arms of his enemy. Face to face now, he felt the hot, foul breath wash over him. The piggish eyes blazed while the grotesque face attempted a sneer. Then the massive arms locked around him and he felt the breath woosh out of his body.

  'I'm dead,' his mind reasoned, even as another part of him instinctively continued to struggle. 'Mighty Lear, give me aid! Quent, Earth-Mother to all! Save thy child!' Then his hand found the knife at his belt. It had been his father's, and his father's before him. The iron blade was more than half ground away over countless honings --- yet it was still long and still deadly.

  Fighting to retain consciousness, his ribs all but cracking and his lungs burning for want of air, Flynn called once more on Lear, the Father of All, to give him the strength --- then he drove the long, slender blade deep into the Karn's ear.

  Erin was pleasantly surprised. By all rights he should be dead by now. First from the seventh Karn hidden in the shadows, and now this! One of the remaining dicers had taken a vicious slash from Erin's sword across its middle, opening a wide rent in its leather armour. Blood and a glistening coil of intestine had leaked out, but the brute had still managed a two-handed swing with its heavy mace. Erin had seen it coming, but being off balance, could do little but watch the iron club descend on his unprotected head. Strangely he seemed to have time enough to curse himself for wearing the stupid circlet Zoean had given him instead of his solid helmet.

  Then a strange thing happened. The heavy iron mace, which, by all the known laws, should have crashed into his exposed head, suddenly veered away, almost as though an unseen hand had brushed it aside! Instinct and years of training took over and Erin rammed the hilt of his longsword into the gaping mouth. The surprised eyes of the creature opened even wider as the force of the blow sent it tumbling backwards. Erin made a mental note to ask Zoean more about The Raven's black circlet at the same time as he sprang forward to plunge his sword deep into the Karn's throat.

  Cynwulf had discarded his long hooked pike in favor of a heavy, two-handed axe he affectionately called Head Lopper. It was this weapon that he used as he bounded over rock and bush to confront two of the three remaining Karns. Side-stepping a vicious but clumsy swing, he brought his axe down and severed the arm of the unfortunate creature that had attacked him. Without pausing, he swung backhand at the second one. A scream followed as t
he double-edged blade cut through gristle, sinew and finally the entire leg. Two quick thrusts of his belt knife ended their screams. The one that remained had suddenly lost all interest in fighting. The only thought burning through its limited brain was to somehow escape from these 'White Skins' that killed so easily.

  The majority of the Karn army were camped further up the slope. These seven had been posted as a rear guard --- a duty that none had wanted, as they thought they would be too far away from any real killing. The creature now cast aside its thick leather helmet and dropped its heavy, pitted sword. Neither were needed nor wanted, for every shred of strength was now used to escape these pale-demons who killed so easily!

  The Karn scrambled up a small rise. From the top the flickering lights of its companion's fires could be seen in the distance. Twinkling like stars, they encircled the Delgi stronghold, a cluster of stone buildings and high walls that crowned the top of a broad hill. Sweat ran freely from its hairy body. The taste of it was bitter on its tongue, but not as bitter as the silent death that followed behind.

  In the river valley below it would be safe. Its brethren would protect it, would swarm out and kill the dreaded White Skins and Stoners that had attacked it and the others so viciously! 'Not far now!' its panicked brain reasoned. Ignoring the stitch in its side, the Karn half ran, half fell down the small hill.

  Then the pale-demon with the slanted eyes was there, rising up as though out of the earth itself! Two short, glittering blades flashed in its hands. The Karn fell to its knees and trembled, calling on the Hooded Man to protect it. Kel moved forward like a shadow, his a-sa a streak of silver in the moon's cold light.