The War of Spells

by George Mazurek

  The men were jeering at me.

  “But I don't,” I replied and pushed the man aside.

  The black man's buddies got up as one, chairs falling to the ground. The black one gave me shove, I paid him back and soon fists and punches were thrown around. I notched up several exquisite hits crackling noses and causing teeth to fly high in the air, before I was outnumbered and sent to the floor. I kicked the sturdy one in his chin. He gave a yell and staggered away, but his remaining companions bombarded me with their fists until the world melted away.

  ~

  “You are not wasting time, are you?” A distant voice penetrated a fog veiling my thoughts.

  I released a groan of pain and finally opened my eyes.

  I was lying on my back in a chamber lit by a candelabrum with five candles. The room was full of cots covered with dirty blankets and repulsive rags. I could feel the smell of chamomile. I turned my head to see walls crammed with shelves full of pots, herbs, buckets and clothes, making the interior even less snuggly.

  I winked.

  The horse rider was the only other person present. She wore a plain, white blouse and leather trousers. At her left hip I noticed a short whip.

  In a moment of clairvoyance, I realized the whip was used for stallions on two legs as well, and that it took part in creation of the Darnis' scar.

  She came to my bed, her iris eyes focused on my face.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “You took a part in a brawl,” she said calmly. “And you got beaten a bit.” Her eyes flashed impishly.

  “I drank too much beer... I hope the other guy got beaten as well.”

  She curled her lips in a smile. “Yeah. All four of them. You fought well.”

  “Four?!” I looked around. “Where am I?”

  The girl dipped a white facecloth into the bucket of water. “You are in an infirmary.”

  She approached me and examined my head and chest which were stained with blood. “Don't move. You were lucky to avoid any fractures, but you have lots of bruising. I'm going to clean and disinfect your wounds. One or two scratches are really deep and require a few stitches. It's going to be pretty painful. Do you want a spirit?”

  “No. Go on.”

  “A tough guy, hah?”

  “No. I just hate spirit.”

  Her eyebrow went up and down, but she didn't comment. I felt a facecloth at my temple and behind my right ear.

  “You know, fights happen…” She said and paused for a while. “It's difficult to keep so many men busy all the time. But I hope you will not fight again. Auger was not happy to find four of his men out of duty. I had to vouch for you, so do not disappoint me.”

  I swallowed. “Thanks, I will not. Where are those four?”

  “At the other infirmary. I separated you, just to be sure.”

  I shook my head. “I'm a fool, indeed. I am not a brawler. I just...” I paused, embarrassed, “I just feel I did everything wrong since I got there.”

  She shot me a roguish glance.

  I relaxed a little. She was right, it was painful. She worked in complete silence, but I could feel her breath in my hair and on my neck. She was really trying to do the work as delicately as possible.

  “Why do they call you Deadweed?”

  Her hand halted in the air for a split second. “Do you know what genealogy is?” She asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, it happens that in a family tree some lines are dead ends. No children, no spouse. We call it deadweeds. That's what I am,” she explained.

  I searched for a sorrow in her voice, but there was none.

  “It doesn't make sense. You are so young.”

  “I left my heritage behind, a long time ago. You don't want to hear the story, believe me,” she said firmly while stitching my left eyebrow.

  I hissed with pain.

  “Sorry...”

  “I'm fine. You are doing a great job.”

  Our eyes locked before she tilted her head to examine another scratch. Her blond hair spilled over her shoulder. Her touch was peculiarly relieving.

  “And now about you...” she murmured with a needle between her lips, as she prepared another stitching thread. “What's your name?”

  “Syrdan.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  I hesitated for a moment. “I lived in a farm near the Yellow River, fourteen days to the south.”

  “Hmm. And what have you been looking for on that meadow?”

  “I just...” I stopped. “I don't know.”

  Her hand stopped as well. “Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That's good,” she gasped. “I was afraid you might have... Forget it.”

  For a few minutes she was doing her work without speaking. I admired her gentle chin and lips pressed together in concentration. It deserved to be eternalized in a poem, or a painting.

  Watch your thoughts, Syrdan...

  “Who's in charge here?”

  “Auger, the Lord of Riverre.”

  “And what about that man, Darnis?”

  She snorted. “He is nothing more than Auger's flunkey. Well, officially, he is one of his captains. Try to avoid him. He is an arrogant idiot.”

  I gave her a weak smile. “I came to know that already. Actually... Why are all of you here?”

  She gave me a confused glance while stitching, her eyebrows furrowed. “We fight against dragons. They are assaulting villages and towns in the south, destroying our homes and crop fields. They are the real threat to us. You are from the south, you ought to know.” She observed me closely. “I'm done. Can you sit up?”

  I sat up slowly, sighing. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Syrdan.”

  She put stress on my name. I looked at her, baffled.

  “Now turn back, please. And roll your shirt up.”

  I obeyed, puzzled completely.

  She placed her palm on my naked shoulder while inspecting my back. The warm touch sent a shiver along my spine.

  “I thought so.” She spoke to herself and withdrew.

  I turned to her again.

  “You have no signs of fire on your back,” she said calmly, washing her hands from my blood in a bucket.

  Then she approached me again. “Show me your hands.”

  I showed her my palms covered with calluses.

  “So you are a farmer, right?” She asked, touching my fingertips.

  The touch was like a strike of a lightning!

  In an instant, I saw her standing among yew trees in a courtyard of some palace with walls covered with green ivy. She was younger, more a child than a woman. The wind played with her long hair, she was dressed all in white, and her head was decorated with green twigs. An aristocratic man with a black beard and a beautiful noble woman, both dressed in white and green, smiled at her. The man stroked her hair with love.

  The picture disappeared as quickly as it emerged.

  Deadweed withdrew her hand. Her look was oddly empty.

  Has she seen it too?

  It was just a moment.

  She was a princess, indeed...

  I let my feet slip down to the floor. “I feel fine. I should go.”

  Our eyes met. I withstood her look, though it was not easy. Before she could reply, a roaring of horns vibrated through the air.

  “What is it?”

  She returned me a curious glance. “It seems we have visitors.”

  ~

  Six carriages pulled with donkeys and accompanied by a dozen men on horses stopped at the center of the main courtyard.

  In Auger's absence, visitors were greeted by Deadweed, dressed in brown trousers and a white blouse with sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

  I was observing the scene from the parapet walk. Though I couldn't hear a word, she was giving the visitors orders. The men got off their horses and began to unload the carriages. Large, white bags were filled with flour, salt, and sugar, while small woode
n barrels contained spirits, meat cured with salt, or vegetables. I recognized clothes, bows, arrows, various tools, and timbers. I have never realized how much supply is needed to run the fortress occupied by two hundred people.

  When the unloading was finished, the men got on their horses and left. Deadweed managed the delivery excellently.

  That fragile girl was clearly accustomed to giving orders.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dragons

  i avoided the eatery as well as I evaded the infirmary. When I needed something, I just asked Egis. The boy was so kind to fetch me meals and clean clothes, and he even shared his straw mattress with me during the night.

  I met dimwits before, and I understood they were quite common in the population and in the army in particular. I was not scared of those men. I just had no desire to repeat a fight. I felt deeply embarrassed by what I had done, and that I was of no use in the fortress.

  If only Mouth revealed my task, so I could get out of here...

  The fourth day I concluded my stitches could be removed. I shuffled to the infirmary like a kid caught breaking a window.

  Deadweed was changing a cover of one of the cots.

  “Hi,” I greeted her softly.

  She turned. A hint of a smile flashed across her face. “Sit down, please. I was expecting you.”

  She beckoned to the nearest cot. I sat down without a word.

  Deadweed examined my eyebrow and the scar behind my ear. “Seems good,” she murmured. “Stay still.”

  She removed the stitches almost painlessly.

  “I haven't seen you recently. Were you busy?” She held a conversation.

  Yeah, I was as busy as excrement dropped in the grass...

  “Not exactly.”

  “Egis told me you are helping with the cows.”

  I murmured something in agreement.

  “Done!” she announced, clearly proud of herself. Her eyes were shining.

  “Thanks,” I replied, knowing that it was not a sufficient way to express my gratitude.

  But before I could figure out something more appropriate, a sudden sound of horns disturbed us. It was heard once, then again.

  I gave her a curious look. “What is it?”

  Her eyes turned wide.

  We vocalized it simultaneously. “Dragons!”

  ~

  We rushed to a corridor connecting the infirmary with a spiral staircase leading to an armory. The chamber was already crowded with men taking bows and spears from wall-holders. Deadweed took a large crossbow and handful of arrows, and put on a grey coat with a hood.

  “Take it,” she handed me a four foot long spear. I seriously doubted I would use it, yet I took it. It was pretty heavy and its steel spike was impressively sharp.

  Armored for an upcoming battle, we hurried through the doors to another spiral staircase that ended high up in the battlements accompanied by other men whose steps hammered the stairs. I released a simple and discreet protective spell on her, hoping she would not notice.

  Strangely, she glanced back at me at the same moment.

  It was just a coincidence...

  We reached the battlements moments later. From the dark oval of the staircase exit, men, one by one, were rushing to their combat positions, cursing and praying in the process.

  We stayed close to the staircase, protected from above by a slim silhouette of a nearby donjon.

  She loaded her gun with one of the arrows. Her hands carried out a calm and precise sequence of movements, before a bowstring was tightened and ready to unleash the shot.

  She gave me a bloodthirsty grin. “Now I'm ready…”

  “You are not scared?”

  “I'm looking forward to it!” She said and put her hood on. Covering her golden hair, she was hardly recognizable among other fighters now.

  She pointed slightly above the horizon, where three large birds were approaching the fortress. Except that they were not birds...

  ~

  Finally, I had time to observe dragons more closely. Their size and color varied surprisingly. In the formation of the three, the leading dragon was grey-green with a black spot on his head. His body was almost half as long as the body of his fellow on the right, who was purple-red. Scales of the dragon on the left were streaked in black and brown, and his head was even larger than that of his leader.

  When the dragons reached the last half mile from the Wall, they split up. The red beast turned to the west and the leader took a turnabout to attack the eastern bulwarks. The big-head creature folded up his wings to accelerate, and reached the battlements with an incredible speed during some three or four heartbeats, just fifty feet away from us.

  It roared so loudly that I was struck deaf. Simultaneously, the dragon released a stream of fire that caught several soldiers by surprise. They went up in flames, screaming with pain, while other soldiers tried to strike the beast with their spears. Several archers released arrows that hit the dragon's long neck, but harmlessly slid along scales and dropped to the foot of the battlements.

  The dragon made a turn and struck an older corporal in his chest with its tail. The unfortunate was thrown into the air before he crushed against the wall, his skull broken.

  Another four or five men came rushing but could do nothing useful with their spears, and a second later they were sent up in flames as well.

  Near my left ear a bowstring vibrated.

  I had almost forgotten Deadweed was still by my side!

  She released an arrow that stabbed the dragon in its neck. Red blood spurted out. The dragon roared and turned to us.

  Our eyes locked. I could feel anger and evil of the mind behind the yellow pupils as large as my fists.

  The dragon wasted a second. And that was enough for Deadweed. Another arrow vibrated in the air, and this time it hit the dragon's left eye.

  The dragon tilted his head to the side and roared so strongly that the bricks from a donjon's cladding began to fall. It flicked its long tail so I had to dodge its reach, pushing Deadweed aside with my right hand as well. Lethal spikes swung just a few inches above my left shoulder. The beast swayed its wings in an attempt to get into the air. It lifted off some fifty feet, before it bent sharply to the left, losing balance. Another wing's flap took the dragon inside the fortress, but then the wings withered, the dragon's head tipped downward and the creature fell to the ground with an overwhelming thump.

  The dragon was dead.

  Men on the battlements kicked up a winning row. Two remaining dragons rose to the skies, leaving the battlefield.

  Grinning, I turned to Deadweed.

  And I froze.

  She was lying at the foot of a rampart, her eyes closed. Her head and side were sprinkled by blood.

  My heart stopped.

  When I pushed her, she crashed into the wall with her head!

  I was to her in a split second. Her breath was regular. There was no serious wound on her head, just a few bruises.

  I lifted her up gently. She was surprisingly light, as a child, and as much defenseless. I lifted my gaze to see a man in his fifties and dressed in an ocean-blue uniform with golden buttons, dashing my direction. Darnis was at his heels.

  I had seen the older man a few times before, in the mess hall. He was the Commander.

  “What happened to her?” Lord Auger asked with a concerned look. Darnis' stare was rather uncaring.

  Behind their shoulders, men were shouting and cheering the victory.

  “She hit the dragon,” I nodded to the bailey, “And it flicked its tail at us. I threw her aside so she would not be struck, but she bumped into the wall with her head.”

  “Is she…” Auger's grim voice paused.

  “She is alive, Sir. She will be fine.”

  Though he was excellent at hiding his emotions, I sensed how the tension from his shoulders subsided. “Good to hear that.” Auger brushed his beard. “Many owe her their lives, including me.”

  “She is going to be all right, Sir.�
�

  The Commander nodded. “And who are you, young lad?”

  “I'm Syrdan, a healer. Deadweed brought me here four days ago. I will take care of her. I will look after other wounded as well.”

  He nodded again. “Look after her, above all. That's my order. Her life is precious, even more than you can imagine.”

  “Yes, I will,” I promised.

  ~

  “Where am I?” Deadweed whispered and opened her eyes for a chink of light.

  I had moved her to the bed in her room in the keep, because the sickbay was already full. Besides, I assumed she would fare better away from screams of burned men that echoed around the infirmary the whole day and night. I was pleased to know that other two healers, also females and members of Auger's suite, took care of the rest.

  “You are in your chamber, Princess. Shall I light more candles?”

  “What happened? I remember… dragons. And don't call me Princess, please.”

  “As you wish. The dragons attacked us. You shot one of the dragons straight into his eye with your crossbow, killing him right in the air. It was a masterful shot. You are a hero,” I smiled at her. “Before the dragon died, he attacked us with its tail. I had pushed you aside, with too much force, I guess, so you hit the wall with your head and fell unconscious. I'm sorry for that.”

  She gave a short moan. “A hero?”

  “Yes. You slew a dragon.”

  Her eyes turned away. “It was not my first,” she whispered.

  She paused for a while, sorting her thoughts and memories before she fixed her eyes on me again. “You are a wizard, right?”

  “Why do you think so?” I replied to buy some time.

  “I'm not dumb... Nor blind.”

  I gave up. “Yes, I am,” I admitted.

  I caressed her forehead. “You suffered a concussion, but you are going to be all right. Now try to move fingers on your legs. Good. Can you lift both of your arms? Excellent. Your spine and collarbones are not fractured. Do you feel pain anywhere?”

  “I feel goddamn pain... In my head... I can't focus... when looking at... something distant.” She breathed heavily.