by Joseph Lallo
"You should have a sling for it until I can heal it for you," she said.
Myranda pulled the worn old cloak from inside the new one. Carefully she tore a strip from it.
"Isn't that your uncle's cloak?" he asked.
"It was," she said.
"I thought it meant a lot to you," he said.
"It did, and does, but it is the only material I have that would make for a decent sling. He would have wanted it to be useful. I can't think of a better use," she said, tying a few knots to fashion a sling.
Myranda fitted the sling over the injured arm.
"There," she said.
"It is a fine sling," he said.
Myn returned with the helmet and curled up between them. Leo spied her toy. He scanned the remains of the battle once more.
"That helm. It didn't come from one of these soldiers," he remarked, his voice tense.
"No, no it came from a--" Myranda began.
"An elf woman," he finished.
"Yes, how did you---" she asked.
"She is the leader of the Elites. She was not with the squad that followed me here. Where did you get this?" he demanded.
"We had a run-in with her on the way here," she said, his desperation beginning to affect her.
"Then she is following you! But I . . . Never mind, no time. How long ago did you get here?" he asked, his tone now that of a professional.
"Perhaps a week. They couldn't have made it here until at least a half-day after I did," she said.
He drew in a deep breath.
"They are close, and getting closer. South, now!" he said.
Myn was on her feet and in motion as soon as he mentioned a direction. Myranda helped him to his feet and the trio moved on as quickly as their various impairments would allow. Leo snatched up the metal spike. It was stained with a dozen different shades of blood. Carrying it was a labor for his still-weary body, but he refused to put it down.
"What is going on?" she asked.
"They must think that you are a bit more dangerous than you really are. They are treating you like they treated me. Otherwise they would have found you and killed you hours after they arrived. Instead, they must think you are leading them into an ambush. Once they see the two of us in this condition and the bodies that I left behind, they will put a quick and very unpleasant end to our freedom, and likely our lives," he said.
"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "Why are they after you?"
"Suffice to say a few weeks after I met you this group took time out of their busy schedule of hunting down an assassin to hunt down me!" he said. "I couldn't avoid them for long and very shortly I was subjected to their hospitality in abundance. You learn much about the way people work when you are subjected to their techniques nonstop for a number of months."
"What are we going to do?" Myranda asked.
For a while, Leo was silent. His face was plastered with a look of deep contemplation as he walked. Finally, he spoke.
"There is a place in this forest, not far from here, that can offer safety for as long as it is required. I came here seeking it. The entrance can be reached by sunrise, even at this pace. Unfortunately the Elites will reach us far before first light. It will be a miracle if they do not reach the battleground before five minutes have passed. We cannot fight them. That would be suicide.
"You have to reach the sanctuary. The entrance is a cave with a stream running from it. Go inside and follow the stream. You won't need light. Just follow the water to its source, no matter how long it takes. When you can feel it bubbling from the rocks, I want you to climb the wall directly above it and find the smallest opening. Crawl inside and follow it to its end. From there, feel the walls at every branch and take the path that is smoothest. When the walls are smooth as glass, the path should be clear," he said purposefully, without stopping.
"But how are we going to make it there?" she asked.
"You are going to ride a horse that I am going to liberate from its rider," he said.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I will hold them off long enough for you to get out of sight," he said.
"But you said it was suicide to fight them!" she said.
"It is. I don't care. I am determined to get you out of this alive. You saved my life. No one else in this forsaken world would have given me a second thought. A person like you deserves to make it through this. If they get you, they will lock you away until they know what they need to know, and then they will kill you. It is the fate that someone like me has been headed for since birth, but you don't deserve it. You are so unique, so pure. You must go on! Honestly, you should have left me to die. You are better off without me. But you saved my life, and now at least I can have a chance to do the same. Perhaps it will earn me a high place in the afterlife," he said.
"No--I didn't save your life to have you throw it away. We are all making it out of this somehow. The three of us," she demanded.
#
Not far away, the soldiers drew nearer. There were sixteen of them, riding on fifteen horses. A fire burned inside them as they came upon the bodies of their fallen brethren. There were tracks leading into the woods. A trio of them, one human and two beasts. At full gallop, the Elites followed them into the thick, dark woods. With a few brief words, seven of the soldiers dropped back, holding their position while the remaining eight horses continued. Another command from the lips of the leader brought the second group to a halt. There was no one in sight, but the tracks had ended. Trigorah spoke.
"Myranda Celeste," she commanded. Hers was a clear and confident voice that carried every ounce of authority that her rank did. She bore a steely, impenetrable look of duty on her face.
After receiving no answer, the warrior drew her sword in one slow, deliberate motion. The blade sang against the sheath, gradually revealing five radiant blue points along its length, the tips of crystals like the one she had wielded during the pursuit. She then dropped from the back of the horse, signaling that the soldier who had been sharing a horse to take her place. The elf brandished the short sword in one hand and drew a mystic gem from a pouch at her belt. A few more words from her lips and the gem obeyed her just as the soldiers had. She tossed the crystal into the dwindling piles of snow just past the trees where the tracks had ended.
"If you value your life, you will reveal yourself before that crystal's spell is cast," she warned.
The light from the gem grew, illuminating the snow bank with its eerie blue glow. The air seemed alive with energy. Hair stood on end as glowing tendrils flicked out from the blinding gem. On the orders of the leader, blinders were quickly dropped over the horses eyes and all soldiers looked away. Myranda and Leo dove from behind the trees just as fractures on the crystal's surface gave way. The whole of the stand of trees, and perhaps the whole of the forest, was bathed in an utterly silent burst of the same white-blue light that Myranda had come to fear.
When the darkness came rushing back in, those things nearest to the center of the blast were smoldering. Bark was stripped from trees and the snow was reduced to a sizzling pool amid blackened ground. Myranda and Leo climbed to their feet and readied their weapons. Leo held his spike at the ready in his one healthy arm. Myranda held her knife as her father had taught long ago. The elf coolly surveyed her prey.
"You are Myranda Celeste," the general stated.
"I am," Myranda replied. Her mind was not much clearer than it had been when she had first seen the elf's face, but this time, the answer became clear. "And you are Trigorah Teloran."
The soldiers stirred, some drawing their weapons. A motion from the general quieted them.
"I am pleased that you remember me. I have been sent by the highest of authorities to bring you to justice. If you cooperate, no harm will come to you. If you resist you will be taken by force," Trigorah said.
"I didn't do anything, Trigorah," Myranda said. "I did not kill those men."
The soldiers were again rattled, requiring a spoken reprimand from their leader to settl
e.
"It is not my place to question your guilt or innocence, and it is not your place to do me the dishonor of speaking my given name. Perhaps you were worthy of that long ago, but you lost the right when you ran afoul of the Alliance Army. You will address me as General Teloran or not at all," she demanded, her tone wavering slightly with the anger she felt.
Leo grinned.
"So, Trigorah, how do you like my handiwork? A fitting retribution, I feel, for the torture," he said, attempting to push the anger further.
The soldiers stirred again. One raised a spear and made ready to heave it at the offender. No word came to stop him.
"Take care, malthrope. At the moment, my orders do not include your capture. If you submit, you too will be brought to justice without harm--but another word out of your wretched maw and my men will deliver you to the shallow grave you have earned," the general warned.
"Look at the horrors he has been through. How do I know you do not have the same in store for me? What is to stop me from standing my ground and losing my life rather than face the same fate as he?" Myranda demanded.
"That capture and subsequent treatment of the beast was at the hands of my associate. His methods are quite different from my own--wait . . . you are stalling. Where is the dragon!?"
The cries of terrified horses came as an answer as Myn did as she was told. While the tense exchange was taking place, the dragon had taken a wide berth around the immediate threat and sought out those soldiers Leo had predicted would be left as backup. Bursts of flame and slashes of claws sent the fear-crazed horses in all directions. As the dragon continued to stir up unseen chaos, Leo made his move. He swiftly moved in on the nearest soldier and, with a few deft strikes with his unconventional weapon, unseated him from his steed. He then hurled the heavy spike, burying it in the chest of a soldier moving to seize Myranda. The girl rushed to the horse that Leo was mounting, the weapon of a fallen soldier already in his hand.
Suddenly, an increasingly familiar feeling came to her, as a cold blade was pressed to her neck. It was Trigorah.
"Everyone hold still!" the leader demanded.
The soldiers quickly obeyed, as did Leo.
"You could have run, but you didn't. This girl means something to you," she said, addressing the malthrope.
"You won't kill her. Your orders were to take her alive," he said.
"Death is not as permanent as you think," she said. "Now drop your weapon, or would you like to experience the other side firsthand?"
Leo obeyed.
"I thought one more word would mean my death," he said.
"I've changed my mind. I am sure that my superiors are quite displeased with my associate and his failure to prevent your escape. Now I will show them never to doubt me again. I will bring both prizes," she said. "It is a shame. You are a peerless warrior, and Myranda had such potential. I pray that you see the light and join us. It would be an honor to fight beside you. The men you killed were like brothers to me, but they knew the risks. These were the deaths that they had chosen. Their souls will rest peacefully so long they are replaced by those of worth."
Myranda struggled briefly, but it was clear that with the blade of the sword held to her throat, escape was impossible. Her mind raced. The sights and sounds of the conflict flashed through her mind again and again. There had to be something . . . Yes! That would work! If only she could remember. What were the words? Finally the answer came. She worked her hand slowly to the pouch that hung at the general's belt. In one quick move, she shoved her hand inside and spoke the words that the general had used to bring the first gem to life.
The response was immediate. A shaft of light burst skyward, sending the leader reeling back. Myranda rushed to the horse and was scooped onto its back by Leo's one good arm. Chaos erupted as General Teloran tore the bag from her waist and threw it down. Her orders were swift and clear.
"Retreat!" she cried, loading fallen men to the back of horses before sharing one herself.
Like a blur, Myn launched herself after Leo and Myranda. As quickly as the horse would carry them, the trio fled south. A monumental burst of light shook the forest from end to end with a force that tore leaves from trees. A white heat burned behind them, bringing the hiss of wind and sizzle of trees to an otherwise silent burst.
Leo leaned low to the horse's ear. Instantly, the same fear that had caused the other horses to abandon their riders subsided from the animal, and they rode on, steadily and purposefully, eyes constantly on the woods behind them.
After a few tense minutes the massive mouth of the cave came into view.
"Are you certain that this is the one?" Myranda asked, as a dozen ancient signs swept by too quickly to read. "There is no stream."
"Not now, but there has been. Look at the ground," he said.
They leapt from the horse's back and rushed inside. The dim light of the night sky revealed signs in every language plastered on the walls. Age had made them all but unreadable. Those few words that survived were far from encouraging. There were a dozen or so racks on the walls holding ancient unlit torches for any adventurers brave enough to venture on. Leo grabbed as many as he could carry and instructed Myranda to do the same. Between the two of them, they managed to take all of the torches.
"Do you think we will need all of these?" Myranda asked.
"No, but they will. Don't light one until I say. I want to be sure that they cannot follow us," he said.
In total blackness, the trio shuffled along. Leo led the way, with Myranda cautiously following his echoing footsteps. Myn was completely at home in the cave. Now and then she would spark a burst of flame, casting a fleeting glimpse of the gray, craggy walls. After squeezing through an endless array of narrow passages led only by the water-smoothed floor, Leo seemed satisfied.
"That is quite enough. It will be days before they stumble upon the path we have taken. Light a torch," he said.
Myranda fumbled with her flint, brought out of fear that she would not be able to coax Myn into lighting her fires, and struck out a few sparks. The oil-soaked rags caught, and soon the claustrophobic little alcove was bathed in a flickering yellow light. The walls were a stark gray with a sparkle here and there. Around them was the constant echo of trickling water. Stalactites hung like teeth above the uneven floor. It was warm, with a thin layer of water coating every surface. Myn curled up between the two travelers and resumed her gnawing on the helmet. Despite the madness that she had been through, she refused to drop it.
"Well. That was quite an ordeal," Leo said.
Myranda stared into the light of the torch she had laid on the ground. There was a serious look on her face.
"You seem quiet," Leo said.
"Do you . . . Did I . . . kill someone?" Myranda asked
"With any luck, you killed all of them," Leo said with a laugh. A moment later he regretted his choice of words. "That is not the answer you were looking for, I take."
Myranda was silent.
"She would have killed you. She would have killed us both," he assured her.
"I don't believe that. She . . . she could have killed you time and again. And she could have killed me. She didn't. I really believe that she meant what she said. About fighting beside us. You saw how she remained long enough to collect the injured," Myranda said.
"I know how difficult it is to take your first life. I won't try to soften the blow. There isn't enough sugar in the world to take the bitterness from the act, but perhaps your sorrow is not necessary. My way of life leads me to the wrong side of the law often enough to hear tales of Trigorah. She is as capable a warrior as any that has lived. If anyone could have escaped that blast, it would be her," he said.
Myranda sighed.
"I know . . . she is my godmother," she said.
"What!?" Leo shouted, his voice echoing.
"I remember her from when my father used to visit. Back when I was very young. She seemed so kind then. My father worked with her, and he trusted her with his life.
When mother was killed, she was supposed to help raise me," Myranda said.
"Well, she broke that vow," Leo said.
"She couldn't have known I survived the massacre. And my uncle told me she was dead . . . I should have known he would lie about that. He hated the Alliance Army with a passion by then. He would rather die than have me live in her care. Now she is the closest thing I have to family, and I may have killed her," Myranda said, a tear running down her cheek.
"Dwelling on it only makes it worse. You shouldn't sleep with those thoughts in your head. You won't enjoy your dreams. Are you up to any more healing?" he asked.
"I . . . perhaps," she said.
"My shoulder is not particularly pleased with the way I have been treating it," he said, trying to distract her from the subject.
"Remove the sling," she said.
He did so with great difficulty. The injury had swollen considerably. It reminded her of her own affliction, but in this case the problem was within. She pulled a few tatters of cloth aside to see how far the swelling had spread. It was severe, no doubt aggravated by the battle. As she surveyed the swelling, she noticed something odd on the left side of his chest. It was distorted, smudged with blood and charred, but there was no question. There, against the cream-colored chest, was the all too familiar curve and point.
"What . . . what is this?" she asked.
"What? Ouch! I can't see," he said.
"Here, on your chest. There is a mark," she said.
"Oh, that. That has been there since I was a child. I suppose it's a birthmark," he said.
"Look. Here! On my hand. I have the same mark! Remember the burn from the sword?" she said, holding out her hand.
He took her hand and looked over it.
"What in the world?" he said, sitting forward and taking real interest.
"It was all over the sword," she said. "I showed you. Don't you remember?"
"I remember how much it weighed, how well it was balanced, but I couldn't care less about how it looked. That is the least important thing to me," he said.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"How should I know?" he said, perplexed.