In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords)

by Tatum, David A

  Since hitting the main roads again, the tendril of magic powder which had linked Maelgyn to Euleilla as her lifeline was once more absorbed into her ordinary whirlpool. He’d grown accustomed to it over the period they were in the mountains, and its absence was slightly disturbing – it almost felt like she wasn’t there anymore. In order to keep that feeling from creeping over him more than it already had, he hung back slightly, taking position behind her, keeping her in plain sight....which was how he knew something was disturbing her the exact second she did.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her cocking her ear in a particular direction.

  “Over there,” she said, pointing in the direction her ear was aimed.

  He would have asked her how she knew where to point when he could see that the magic dust whirlwind she used to see wasn’t extended more than a yard away from her, but he figured he’d better just check it out. He wasn’t likely to get a straight answer, anyway.

  She followed him off the path, that reassuring tendril of dust once again clinging to his arm. As they went, it became clear what had attracted her attention as the sounds of a battle reached Maelgyn’s ears. Moving cautiously, he followed the noise until he came to the edge of another, much older, road. There, in the clearing, stood about a dozen Dwarves – obviously traders given the build of their wagons.

  Wandering Dwarves were not an uncommon sight, since other races had long since overtaken most traditionally Dwarven lands. Typically based in Dwarven settlements, Dwarves usually traveled in caravans and moved across borders often closed to other races, providing a marketplace for trade between distant countries. This particular wagon looked to be returning to Mar’Tok, the last of the major Dwarven Powers. Given the wagon’s design and decoration, it may have even belonged to one of the Merchant Princes, the “royalty” of the Dwarven kingdoms who gained their power not through right of birth (though, with Dwarven inheritance laws, it often seemed that way) but through massive trading empires.

  A large roadblock barred the wagon from continuing its trek to Mar’Tok, however, while a number of rather large looking bandits prevented retreat. All armed to the teeth and wearing personal lodestones, the bandits looked prepared for just about any kind of adversary. If the Dwarves abandoned their wagons, they might have been able to escape, but there was no way a Dwarven Merchant Prince would leave his wagons behind.

  The situation was decidedly bad. “Those carts will give the Dwarves some cover, but it won’t help them much against the swordsmen,” Maelgyn whispered.

  Dwarven carts were marvels of engineering, designed to be both transport and defense. They were well-equipped to act as a good cover position from archers, but these bandits had both archers and infantry. The wagons even provided small openings to return fire, but there was no way they would be able to cut down a charge from all of the bandits. Once the bandits reached the Dwarves, well...

  “Any archers among the Dwarves?” Euleilla asked.

  “Some, and that should help.” He shook his head. “But it won’t be enough.”

  Dwarves were stalwart soldiers. They rarely surrendered, even when the battle was hopeless, and fought with all of their strength. Dwarves also made good specialists who complimented human forces nicely: Dwarven archers were among the most accurate in the lands, Dwarven Wolfriders armed with either bows or the sword-spear combination of the naginata could make mincemeat of infantry units before an opposing horse-mounted cavalry could respond, great siege weapons and fortifications operated by Dwarven engineers were far superior to the Human equivalent... but outside of legend, no Dwarven infantry could ever stand up to even a quarter their number of the human equivalent.

  But the truth was that Dwarves were just too short to fight well hand to hand, as the Imperial Republic of Oregal found when it attempted to field a Dwarven infantry. Dwarven swords were too short to reach their opponents, and an attempt to resurrect the ‘fearsome’ Dwarven axemen of myth proved it to be just that – a myth. Dwarves were strong enough to handle axes and handle them well, it was true, but their range remained inadequate.

  Dwarven archers and engineering could only do so much, however, and while their wagons were heavily armored they were still quite vulnerable. With merely a dozen Dwarven men, only half of whom were armed with bows and arrows, this particular wagon’s vulnerabilities were exposed. Despite superior archery skills, this company of Dwarves was doomed against a large and well-equipped bandit force, such as the one attacking them, unless help arrived from the outside.

  Maelgyn sighed. “I suppose I should help them,” he whispered. “It wouldn’t be good for Svieda to allow one of Mar’Tok’s Merchant Princes to be murdered inside our borders.”

  “We’ll win,” Euleilla assured him. A portion of her magic dust whirlwind left her and surrounded him, much to Maelgyn’s surprise. Apparently, she was planning to help him in the battle – not that he minded the help, but keeping her safe as well would add to his responsibilities and divide his attention.

  As Maelgyn surveyed the battlefield, he took a quick moment to evaluate the situation. The battle had apparently been going on for quite a while, judging from the number of spent arrows impaled in the ground. The Dwarves – both the unarmed ones and the archers – were pinned down by a constant sheet of return fire, and the human bandits were starting to send their swordsmen forward. It was an extraordinary number of armed men for a simple pack of bandits. Perhaps, Maelgyn realized, this was actually one of the roaming bands of separatists which had shown up in several Sviedan provinces a few decades before. As he drew his sword, he mused that the separatists were probably yet another part of the Sho’Curlas Alliance’s plan to undermine the Sviedan Government. In fact, now that he knew what he did about Sho’Curlas’ treachery, that logic applied to a number of mysterious occurrences and obscure political movements Svieda’s Swords had been trying to deal with for decades. Yet another reason to stop bandits of this sort when he could.

  His sword drawn and his magic at the ready, there was no more time to consider the greater implications of the battle. Charging in, he magically scattered a wave of oncoming arrows, positioning himself in front of the Dwarven wagon. Now that the battle was on, he couldn’t tell where Euleilla was. Whatever she was planning on doing, she was staying hidden, at least. Without knowing her plans, he had to consider himself alone, fighting with just his sword and some magic.

  Correction: A sword, some magic, and six Dwarven archers. Now that he was providing them some additional cover, the Dwarves were able to make their own move, and their bows sung as they started picking off the lead bandit swordsmen in quick succession.

  Unfortunately for Maelgyn, the bandits were already too close for the archers to be of much help before the enemy was upon him. They were closing in, and there was only so much he could do while protecting the Dwarves. Unless the bandits had better weapons than they had shown, he could handle them, but it would be a lot easier if he had more help.

  The help he was hoping for turned out to be Euleilla. The whirlwind of her magic powder spread out from Maelgyn, where whenever it found a weapon in an enemy’s hands that weapon was taken away and magically melted down. Iron or steel-based armor was given the same treatment. Any pieces of the bandits’ magically reactive equipment, including some small pieces of cheap jewelry, were ripped off of the bandits and pulled into a growing pile of magically molten metal.

  Maelgyn’s respect for Euleilla’s skill with magic rose as he realized that her attack was even pushing through the magical disruption the bandits’ lodestones provided – not that he hadn’t been impressed with her earlier. He doubted she could keep it up since using magic that intense was quite taxing on a person, but it looked like he’d have better odds in this fight than he’d feared. He just hoped it was enough for him to finish the fight without letting anyone through to the Dwarves. He noticed more of the whirlwind around him snake out, and wondered what else she had in mind.

  The growing pile of mol
ten metal started reforming itself into armor and weapons suited to Dwarves: Naginata, helmets, Dwarf-sized chainmail, shields, etc. That equipment flew off, attaching itself to each Dwarf. The procedure for magically melting metal left it relatively cool, but even so that couldn’t be comfortable... yet they didn’t seem to mind, and in fact seemed quite pleased with their weapons. Obviously, Euleilla knew what she was doing when it came to making weapons on the fly. He idly wondered just how much her adopted father taught her about military arms and armor, since she seemed to know not just what to make for everyone but how to make it well enough to please even a Dwarf.

  The disarmed bandits fell back, and so did Euleilla’s magic powder. Apparently, she had exhausted her magic... although she still had enough strength to forge one last short sword that disappeared somewhere in the direction Maelgyn knew she was hiding. And there was still a little whirlwind around Maelgyn himself, although what its purpose was he couldn’t even guess.

  Maelgyn grinned. There were still a number of swordsmen armed with non-magically reactive bronze weapons, and a few who managed to withstand her attack long enough to keep hold of their weapons, but most of the bandits were now disarmed. With a bit of his own magic, which was also more than adequate to push through the bandits’ lodestone disruption, the remaining bits of steel weaponry on the bandits’ side was twisted and bent beyond any chance of salvage.

  A few of the bandits fled, but most wouldn’t give up quite yet. They still had some bronze weaponry on hand – apparently, they were expecting mages – and they were quick to equip it. Maelgyn decided to charge them before they were ready, but it seemed he wouldn’t be going in alone. A half-dozen dwarves armed with the naginata Euleilla had made reached his side, and a hail of arrows started laying down covering fire. Now, believing he had the battle won, Maelgyn advanced forward toward his enemies.

  Magic strengthened his arm as Maelgyn slashed down on his first enemy. The unnatural force was enough to slice off his first opponent’s entire sword arm from just above the elbow. A backhand with his gloved fist sent the now disabled man flying.

  “Arrows!” one of the Dwarves called, and Maelgyn immediately set up a magic barrier against them. He was startled to see them pass through his barrier, eyes widening as he realized the archers had prepared for a mage by bringing stone-tipped arrows in addition to the steel-tipped arrows they used earlier... and that those stone-tipped arrows were going to hit him.

  Suddenly, just as the arrow was about to hit him, he felt himself flying. He could sense that magic was holding him up, and as he flew he saw that the arrows passed below, killing one of the Dwarven archers. Obviously, it was Euleilla’s handiwork, but he’d never heard of someone able to lift a human being this far up off the ground, before.

  It hurt to fly. Those areas where he wasn’t covered by dragonhide armor were in real pain – Euleilla must have been picking him up by his own blood, but there wasn’t much unprotected area for her to grab onto so it was pulling horribly. Just being up in the air, however, was enough to remind him that he didn’t know everything about magic just yet: It would never have occurred to him that you could ‘pick up’ a person with their own blood. It was also a distinct reminder that arrogantly assuming that his magic would protect him in battle was a big mistake... and one he was very fortunate to have lived through.

  The powder fell away from him, and so did her magic. The immediate pain went away instantly, but he found himself falling to the ground. He was going to land hard. He would survive the fall, but he would definitely be hurt in the process.

  Many thoughts flashed in his head as he fell and collided with the ground. Euleilla, he realized, must have exhausted all of her magic in that little stunt. He wouldn’t survive another volley, and she obviously lacked the ability to help him anymore, so he had to act quickly before something else happened. The only problem was, his hands, his feet, his face... most parts of his body, in fact, were in severe pain. It was hard to concentrate on magic when in pain, and especially hard when you only had seconds in which to work. But magic was the only thing he had which might delay the bandit archers long enough to get himself and the Dwarves under cover, so he had to try.

  Grimacing, he pulled himself to his feet. He found one of the still-intact shards of armor plate he’d destroyed after Euleilla’s initial strike, and concentrated all of the magic he could bear to summon on it. He sent it flying out behind the line where the bandit archers were shooting from, and mentally forced it to explode. Shrapnel went flying everywhere, some of it hopefully hitting the bandit archers and at the very least forcing them to abandon their attacks to take cover. Straining against the pain in his limbs and exhausted of both strength and magic, Maelgyn fell to his knees. He needed time – time to recover, time to regroup, time to regain his strength... and time for Euleilla to recover, as well.

  He needn’t have bothered worrying.

  The Dwarven archers had been busy while he was distracting the bandits. Dwarven archers couldn’t fire with the same speed, power or range of the human longbows, but the Dwarves had always done their best to compensate for their shortcomings by training for superior accuracy. While the bandits’ attention was not on the Dwarves but on the suddenly flying Maelgyn, the Dwarven Archers repositioned themselves to better hit their opponents safely. With the sudden explosion driving their enemy out from cover, the bandings were easily picked off in rapid succession. The few who escaped the shrapnel and the arrows were not prepared for the final onslaught as the Dwarven naginata reached them. The last bandit fell without even a cry, and the battle was over. Seeing that the immediate threat had ended, Maelgyn relaxed his magic. With nothing left to support him, he couldn’t find the strength to stand any more. He knew Euleilla must have passed out from magical exhaustion after saving him with that little flying trick, and now he would be joining her.

  Maelgyn awoke to find Euleilla sitting by him, talking to a Dwarf. The pounding in his head was so loud, he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he knew they were talking softly. He sighed, closing his eyes again. He didn’t want to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want to move, either.

  Euleilla obviously had noticed his movements, however. He felt her lift his head up and hold a cup to his lips. “Drink,” she said softly.

  He drank. He recognized the bitter taste as willow bark tea – a simple painkiller which had been in use for hundreds of years. There were more effective painkillers which Svieda’s chemists and alchemists had since developed, but he’d decided not to take any with him on the journey since he didn’t expect to find himself in this situation. He wondered if the tea was made from fresh willows, or whether the Dwarves had some with them.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never tried that before, and I think I hurt you.”

  “You saved my life,” Maelgyn said, a trifle more forcefully than he probably should have, since it aggravated his headache. “I’ve got a headache, and it feels as if all of my exposed skin has been bruised. And yet I think I should be thanking you for it, because all of that is better than being dead.”

  “And I should be thanking the both of you,” another voice broke in. Maelgyn’s eyes opened at the new voice, and he saw one of the Dwarves he had rescued now standing over him as well. “If it weren’t for you two, we’d all be dead. I suppose you should know who it is who you saved, in return.”

  “That might be nice,” Maelgyn agreed, slowly sitting up. He noticed some red blotches on his hands as he pulled himself to his feet. “How bad do I look?”

  “Better than you did before your missy here started treating you,” the Dwarf noted wryly. “You looked bloated and red, at first, but now you look fairly normal, with some mild bruising. Good lady, that one.”

  Maelgyn grinned hesitantly. Clearly, Euleilla had remembered their cover story, because this Dwarf seemed to think they were involved. Still, his reply was an honest one. “Yeah, I must agree.”

 
“Anyway, let me introduce myself. I am El’Athras, Merchant Prince of Mar’Tok. I understand you need to travel through my people’s lands.” The Dwarf grinned at him. “I may be able to help you with that.”

  Maelgyn glanced over at Euleilla. Just what had she told the man? “Well, yes.”

  “Yes,” the Dwarf said. “I do know everything, but don’t blame her. I recognized you straight away – you look a lot like your great grandfather.”

  “Ah. Well...”

  “Stick to your plan,” El’Athras advised, a curious grin on his weathered face. “Go on to Elm Knoll, and give me time to get back to Mar’Tok. When you arrive in our lands, come see me. I have an estate in the city of Nir’Thik.” The Dwarf handed Maelgyn a signet ring. “Show that to my people if you need to convince them I asked you to come to me. But whatever you do, don’t let anyone else know that you are a Sword Prince! I have important things to discuss with you, and certain of my people may try and stop you from meeting me if they know exactly who you are.”

  “Right,” Maelgyn agreed, not quite understanding.

  “I have to hurry. I’ve told your girl everything you need to know, but if I spend too much time here the rest of my troop is going to wonder what we’re talking about. Normally, they’d be willing to wait here long enough to make sure you’re okay, since you did save our lives and all, but we’re carrying perishables this trip,” El’Athras explained. “We Dwarves never let gratitude get in the way of making money, so we have to go as soon as possible. They don’t know who you are, or they just might act a bit differently.”

  With that, he left. Maelgyn suddenly realized they were in a tent – a somewhat larger tent than they’d owned before, and he had to wonder where it had come from. “Euleilla?” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Where’d we get the tent?”

  “I bought it,” she explained.

  “Ah. Why?”

  “I didn’t have one,” she reminded him. “Now, you don’t, but it’s large enough for both of us to be comfortable.”