Shard

by Wayne Mee

  A stunned silence followed, and before anyone could speak, Thorn continued. "I will deliver Shard, but not as He expects. Perhaps, if Erg wills it, I may be able to slay Him with his own blade and so put and end to this endless nightmare. If not, then at least my own wanderings will finally be over."

  "Nooo!", Fernleaf wailed, throwing herself into Thorn's arms.

  Thorn gently touched her tear-stained cheek. "There, there, Fern. Take it not so hard. Erg has guided me through many an adventure. I cannot think that He allowed me to come all this way only to abandon me in the end."

  It was then that Erin moved his battered, weary body out of the shadows. Stark he was and fell to look upon, for he had taken many a hurt while locked in the Yiffrin's grip. Zoean, guessing what he was about, willed herself to remain still, though a tear escaped from her own dark eyes and threatened to drown her royal resolve.

  "If ye go, lad, then you'll not go alone. Since the first we've faced fire n' death together, n' I'll not forsake ye now."

  Cynwulf joined Erin, his axe clutched in his scared hands. "The time for talking is over, Mythdarian. Now stout hearts and strong arms will decide the outcome. When the Wanderer and the Watcher go forth, I, Cynwulf Nar Cigwulf, Rif-Dag of the Tyree Delgii, shall go with them!"

  "I too shall go!", Zoean said proudly. "For I'll not have it said that the Nim-Loth let their friends fight alone!" She turned and bowed formally to the old mage. "Mythdarian, I leave the archer Silgwyn under your command, for at least one of my people should be here to greet my brother --- but I will go forth!"

  "I also will go!", said Roary, his voice having taken on a more determined ring.

  "Not without me you won't!", Onooga added firmly, moving to stand by her man.

  Spangle drew himself up to his full height and unsheathed his sword, his roguish grin clearly showing his intent. Rat groaned, but joined his captain.

  Timin looked at the group, then leapt to his feet, his overlarge helmet falling over his eyes. "Well, you'll not leave me behind! We've always been together! Why, he'd be lost without me!"

  Fernleaf, standing close by Thorn's side, brushed her tears away and faced her betrothed. "We'll all go with you!"

  Mithdar stood by sadly shaking his head, yet in his aged eyes there shown the light of parental love . "Folly! Utter and complete folly! Though I fear folly may serve as well as any twisted scheme I might chance upon. Go now and ready yourself. I'll stay here and do what I can to aid you with my conjurings. Spangle's crew should be enough to hold the door. I should like Fernleaf and her maiden warriors to stay as well. Valiant as they are, they'd be little match against the might of Lucfelian's armored hoard."

  "I go where Thorn goes!", Fernleaf cried. Thorn smiled and held her close.

  "You'll stay and do as Mithdar bids, wife-to-be. Besides, next to Kel, you're the best shot in the Wold!"

  "The Chin archer should likewise stay," the mage added sternly. "For it may be that, in the end, only he alone can free the Lady Narya."

  Missing the deeper meaning of Mithdar's words, Thorn and the others began to ready themselves. Only Erin stayed close. The mercenary's wolf-grey eyes went first to the mage, then locked on the stone-faced Chin.

  "If it comes to that, see that your shaft strikes true, for I'd not have the lass suffer." He moved towards the stairs, then halted. "One thing more, Kel; if I'm down 'n Thorn's captured, don't let them take him alive either."

  The Chin drew himself up and bowed to the tall man from Loamin, proud to once again serve a lord that truly understood the Way of the Warrior.

  ***

  Lucfelian watched from the lengthening shadows of the great pines. Astride his dark charger he could see his host as they encircled the tiny stone building. Beside him was the Brakarn, Fang; the smaller creature, Shag; and Ragnol Halfhand.

  Ragnol stood in a cold fury, glaring, not at the Forge, but at the back of the master he had come to hate. Lucfelian, sensing the hatred, smiled, letting it seep through him and add to his strength, a strength that had been greatly depleted since the battle at the West Gate.

  For his power was low, lower than ever before. Hatred helped, hatred and the lust for blood. Anxiously he bit his lip. A faint cry came from somewhere deep within him, but the taste of the warm blood drove it away.

  The Brakarn, smelling the blood, growled low in his throat; one hand going to the haft of his spiked club, the other to his growing erection.

  "Soon, my pretty," Lucfelian crooned. "Soon!"

  Then the world exploded. In the flickering of a heartbeat a brilliant, blinding light radiated out from the Forge. Searing whiteness burnt its way into unprotected eyes. Pain struck like shattered glass. Thunder split the very heavens. On the open plain horses bolted, men fell to their knees and Brakarns trembled like beaten dogs. Blood flowed from noses and ears, while eyes saw only a flame-filled nothingness.

  Lucfelian's mount, blinded and trembling, would have bolted had not Shag clung to the bridle. As it was the Karn was dragged several vels back into the forest.

  "Bliss-Necro!", Lucfelian hissed. "The old fool has called down the Star Fire!"

  Oaths sworn in ages past forbid all mages from using the Sacred Light to take human lives. Mithdar, however, had found a way around the ancient ban. Using his considerable skills, he had focused the spell so that a great crater had been blasted into the earth just beyond the massed Slathers, who now ran helter-skelter, flailing their weapons and blindly doing harm to each other.

  Mithdar's use of the sacred fire had lasted but a moment; yet a moment was all that Thorn and his brave band needed. Having been warned by the mage to cover their eyes and ears, they now threw wide the door and charged out into the seething cauldron of Lucfelian's army.

  Into this swirling mass they ran, heading straight for Skatha and his bound prisoner. Erin, using his own body to shield Thorn, lead the wedge. Cynwulf and Roary guarded the little Kirkwean on one side, while Spangle and Rat warded the other. Timin and the two women brought up the rear. Arrows from those in the Forge flew over their heads. Using blade, shield, boot and fist, Erin pushed forward.

  Suddenly Skatha stood before them. Several small arrows protruded from his shimmering armour, yet he marked them not. Grinning, he held Narya close, the razor-sharp pikeblade that had replaced his severed hand pressed against her bare breast. His burning eyes locked on Erin and a twisted grin spread across his pale features.

  "Come forth, 'manling'! Overlong have I waited for this moment!"

  Erin made to strike at the shimmering creature, but Skatha's hooked-hand drew a thin line of blood between the Erg-Leath's white breasts and Erin stayed his hand.

  Narya drew herself erect and spoke directly to Erin.

  "Well met, Erin ap Conn! Faithfully have you kept your oath --- but do not falter now!"

  Skatha pressed his pikeblade a milvel deeper, drawing more blood, yet nary a cry came from the golden-haired maid. Instead she laughed her throaty laugh and Erin was reminded of that summers day, seemingly so long ago, when they first met. His heart had gone out to her then, just as it did now, though for a far different reason.

  "One more boon I would ask of you, manling." she said proudly.

  Erin stood as one in a trance, while all around him Cynwulf, Roary and the others held back the pressing mob.

  "Anything, M'Lady," he heard himself say.

  "When I'm gone, kill this abomination!"

  And with that she grabbed Skatha's iron hand and thrust the sharp blade deep into her own breast!

  Erin stood like one turned to stone, his gaze riveted on the sagging form of the Erg-Leath, her white body now covered with her own blood. Then came a startled moan and Erin looked up to see a long, black shaft protruding from Skatha's right eye. Kel, having been too late to aid Narya, took vengeance on her murderer.

  As Skatha thrust the Erg-Leath's body from him and raised his glowing sword, both Erin and Cynwulf struck. In one wide sweep the manling's blade bit cleanly through the neck, sev
ering the head. A moment later the Rif-Dag's great axe came crashing down on the headless torso, cleaving it from breast to hip like a rotten log.

  Skatha, first and last of the Undead, was no more.

  Back in the safety of the shadows, Lucfelian, still astride his dark horse, both felt as well as saw his servant's death. A great groan came from him and he grasped for the High Gnash's jewel-encrusted shim.

  "Kill them!", he roared in a voice like peeling thunder. "Kill every last motherless son! Hack their heads and hew their limbs! Kill until your arms tire of the deed!"

  Fang howled something in his own guttural tongue and suddenly the field erupted in fierce, snarling war-cries. Hairy Brakarns and haggard Slathers rushed to do their High Gnash's bidding.

  Thorn's group suddenly found themselves hard pressed on three sides as the remnants of Lucfelian's hoard trampled each other in their haste to get at the defenders. Blow after blow was parried and returned as they tried to win their way back to the Forge.

  Roary's thigh was opened up by a Slather's shim, causing the Bard to fall to the ground. Instantly Onooga was at his side, shielding him with her own body while at the same time lashing out with her sword. Zoean came to their aid and together both women dragged the Bard clear of the front line. Rat, pushing Spangle clear of a lance thrust, took the point of the blade in his own left shoulder. Spangle gutted the Slather, then bent to pull the lance free.

  "Go easy there, Spike! That's my bad arm!"

  Spangle grinned, pressing a bandanna to the flowing wound. "Quiff, Rat! You never had a good one!"

  At the rear a drooling Brakarn with an iron mace struck Timin a savage blow to the head. The little Wee'n was saved by his overlarge helmet and a timely thrust by Thorn, who, now using Shard, opened the startled Brakarn's belly with a flick of his wrist.

  Erin, seeing Thorn standing over his fallen cousin, scooped Timin up and, tossing him over his shoulder, stood back to back with the grim-faced Kirkwean, their two black blades weaving a web of death all about them.

  Cynwulf called for a ring to be made. Roary, Rat and Timin to be placed within, while the six remaining defenders held their ground. So fiercely did they hold their line that soon even the blood-thirsty Brakarns fell back before them.

  "We must reach the Forge!", Erin yelled, twirling Glenrig in an arc that left one Slather legless and another gaping at his severed wrist.

  "Aye, Longshanks!", the Delgi answered, splitting both the helm and head of a Dragoon that foolishly ventured too close. "But those few vels will be dearly bought, for the light is failing and the enemy block our path!"

  "Still, we must do it!", Zoean yelled, blocking a lance thrust with her slender Nim blade. "My brother, Arthdain, will be here by morn. Once inside we can leisurely await his coming!"

  Yet despite Zoean's haughty words, the defenders were slowly being forced to give ground. Then the high, clear note of a Kirkwean horn sounded, and a group of determined Wee'n, led by Granther Higgs and Corg the Blacksmith, came charging out of the great trees and slammed into the enemy from behind. At the same time, the door of the Forge opened and out poured the defenders. Kel and Mithdar led them; the first with a deadly a-sa in each hand, the second brandishing his worn but serviceable short-sword. Spangle's crew were close on their heels. Silgwyn, the Nim archer, heeding Zoean's command, stayed behind, yet his bow continued to play havoc with the enemy, as did the deadly darts of Fernleaf and he maiden warriors.

  So swiftly came this double counter-attack that the Slathers and Brakarns were taken by surprise. Soon a path was opened up to the beleaguered defenders and, while Fernleaf and her archers rained down shaft after deadly shaft from above, Rat, Timin and Roary were hurried back to the Forge as the combined force of the defenders held the breach and then themselves won the relative safety of the thick stone walls.

  Once inside Corg slammed and barred the heavy oaken door. The wrath of the attackers broke against it like a giant, hungry wave on a rocky shore, yet they could make no headway and soon retreated out of arrow-range, nursing both their wounds and their ire.

  While Lucfelian silently raged, wracking his brain for a way of bursting asunder the enemy's stronghold, a deadly calm settled over the Wold. High overhead the cold, distant stars appeared, while those both within as well as without saw to their wounds and waited for the Shadow Lord's next move.

  ***

  It came just before dawn, in a form that none there, save perhaps Mithdar, expected.

  The old mage, after having seen to the wounded, had spent the remainder of the night up in the loft. Weakened from both his use of the Bliss-Necro and a shim-slash on his forearm, he desperately needed rest --- but rest was not to be granted. Twice more the enemy tried to gain entrance, yet each time the defenders had successfully repulsed the attack. The last time they had brought torches and tried to set the Forge ablaze, yet stone does not burn well, and since even the roof was made of thick slate, no real harm had befallen the defenders.

  This new threat however, was something else altogether!

  Timin, having recovered from the blow to his helm, was sitting near the window of the loft watching Granther and Corg playing drafts when something high up caught his eye. The little Wee'n was loath to wake Mithdar, for the old mage had just managed to find a few moments of rest, yet what he saw in the pre-dawn light was so frightening that he easily overcame his fear of the wizard's wrath.

  "Mithdar! Mithdar! Look!"

  Instantly the mage was at the window, his aged eyes taking in the growing speck at a glance. Turning to the frightened Wee'n, Mithdar spoke slowly and calmly.

  "Wake all below. Have them go quickly into the cellar. See that they soak their cloaks and blankets in the well down there and cover their heads. No one is to stay above ground!"

  Granther and Corg's eyes widened. Timin's voice shook as he spoke. "Why? What Is that thing?!"

  Mithdar's reply was little more than a whisper. "Lucfelian's last resort --- a Dragonus Rex."

  "A Firedrake?!", Granther gasped.

  "A Great Worm!", hissed Corg. "Here in the Wold!"

  The old mage nodded. "Go quickly now and do as I say! And mind that everyone stays below ground!"

  "We --- we can't let you meet that thing alone!", Timin stammered. Granther and Corg grunted agreement.

  Mithdar's smile washed over the three Kirkwean. "Friends, there is nothing any of you can do. Even a Nim-Lothian lord such as Arthdain could not defeat a Dragonus Rex. This is one battle that I must fight alone. Go now, while there is still time!"

  As the three hurried to the stairs, Timin took one last glance at the old man that had been their guide for so long, but Mithdar seemed already to have somehow passed beyond them. A golden light had sprung up around him, causing him to look both much younger and, at the same time, infinitely older.

  Their eyes met briefly and Timin felt all his fear suddenly melt away --- then the mage's gaze returned to the window and the dragon-fear again swept over the trembling little Kirkwean.

  'A Dragon!', his startled mind suddenly screamed. 'In the tale told at Gareth-Withrin a Nim warrior DID defeat a dragon! The Raven they called him! Dressed all in black armour and helmed with a circlet of Twain! And Erin now wears that very armour!'

  Feeling a sudden rush of hope, Timin tore down the stairs in search of the man from distant Loamin.

  ***

  Chapter 60: FIRIMAR DRAGONUS-REX

  "You want me to what?!", Erin exclaimed.

  "Help Mithdar!", Timin replied. "He can't face that thing alone!"

  "But why just Longshanks?", Cynwulf demanded.

  "That's right!", put in Spangle. "The lot o' us'll go!"

  The others nodded. Roary and Rat made to rise, but Timin shook his head.

  "Only Erin can go! Any others will be burnt alive!"

  Cynwulf frowned. "Again, Little One, why only the manling?!"

  "Because," Zoean cut in; her voice cold with the full understanding of Timin's words "Erin wears the R
aven's Armour. My own father gave it to him, along with the title that goes with it."

  The Rif-Dag frowned. "And just what, My Lady, is this 'Raven's Armour'?"

  Zoean's voice was little more than a whisper. "It's said to be proof against a great worm's fiery breath."

  The friends fell silent.

  "Well, darlin' girl," Erin said with forced gaiety. "It's a fountain o' knowledge you are to be sure! So this here black ring-mail be fireproof, eh? Let's just be puttin' it to the test!" And with that he thrust his mailed forearm into the flickering flames of a wall torch. Expecting pain, the tall mercenary felt only a slight tingling sensation.

  "Faith, lass! T'is true!"

  "Aye, 'darlin' man'!", Zoean quipped, attempting a brave front. "N' now it's off to ward the wizard ye be --- "Yet here her flippant facade crumbled. Her voice trembled as she willed back the tears. "Go on with you! Slay your dragon if you must --- but mind you come back safe!" She ran forward and kissed him hard on the lips, then was off down the ladder before Erin could respond.

  The rest offered their best wishes and followed Zoean down below. Soon only Thorn and the silent Chin remained, with Timin waiting anxiously by the cellar entrance. The Watcher and the Wanderer faced each other for what both knew could be the last time.

  "I'd --- I'd lend you Shard if I could," Thorn said haltingly. "But Mithdar said never to let anyone else touch it. Besides," he added sheepishly; "I doubt I could give it up now anyway."

  Erin held the Kirkwean by the shoulders, conscious of how his small friend's hand rested protectively on the hilt of the cursed blade. "I'd not ask it o' you, lad, though it's grateful I am for the offer."

  Thorn nodded, then, pulling his hand free of Shard, he unclasped the River-Stone broach and held it out to Erin.

  "Perhaps this will help."

  Erin took the broach and fitted it to Glenrig's harness. "Aye, lad, perhaps it will." He squeezed Thorn's trembling hand and then turned to Kel.

  "Long 'n well you've guarded my back, friend. But now I've another task for you. If I don't return, the Wanderer will have need o' a new Watcher. I'd have you take my place."