El-Vador's Travels

by J. R. Karlsson

  'I can feel myself beckon to her already, master.' She smiled carefully. 'She will come eventually, of that I have no doubt.'

  'Your claims do not give me heart. Why do we ride out further and further from civilised lands if we wish her to follow us?'

  'Another seeks the power of the artefact, the man from the mists of my visions.' She suppressed a shudder. 'We must retrieve the artefact before this other finds you.'

  She crouched, allowing the cloak to puddle around her. Cool air rushed in, exciting her flesh. She slowly reached out with her right hand, fingers splayed, then tucked them in toward her palm as if plucking the warp and weft of some arcane weaving. She felt vibrations, and the voices began to whisper in her head.

  She clutched the robes to her naked form to ward off the chill. 'Someone from the other side has hold over her, but she can be seduced into escaping capture if I channel enough power.'

  'I am not to be defied, Mina.' Salvarius raised his face to the heavens. 'The artefact's location draws near, we need that twin. We can afford no further delays.'

  'And you shall have none, master.'

  Again Mina played her fingers through the air and encountered more strands of eldritch energy. Some swirled and eddied, like currents in a stream that trapped debris in stagnating pools. These numbered in the dozens, and were the most powerful. She found them rather attractive. They beckoned her on like a melody, to spin her about and out and away, without her ever realizing she had not gone in the direction she desired.

  But there were other strands, tiny strands, more fragile than a whisper, as fleeting as a dream upon wakening, and she found them, too. They shied away from her, recoiled, became dead at her touch. The sharp scent of rotting flesh filled her head, almost causing her to gag.

  She steadied herself, then smiled. If this is the game they wished to play then so be it. 'I have studied the currents master, the enchantment that my twin is under is powerful but can be subverted. As for the one who follows... I have laid a trap for him.'

  Salvarius smiled, though how much of it was truly the human vessel any more she could not tell. 'Good Mina, good. The twin shall be drawn to us and the bonding shall begin, then the artefact shall become mine and all that have harmed me before will wither into ashes.'

  LXIII

  My encounters have been many, and a great deal of them have nearly bereft me of my life. The operative word is nearly, for ultimately the conflicts I have endured have left me stronger than before.

  El-Vador crested the bleak hillside as the morning sun pierced his gaze.

  He'd spent the night wandering through the barrens after stretching out his thoughts and discovering the faint lights that indicated Salvarius and his forces.

  After a time he could clearly see the wagon tracks leading through the flattened plains, and even as night fell he ignited his sight and followed, burning darkness in order to remain awake.

  Then he had hit a wall.

  It was not a literal construct that barred his way, more a feeling that hindered his progress by invading his thoughts. Trying to go further just didn't seem worth the effort.

  He suspected, in fact, that if he followed the road and tried to enter the barrens from another direction, he'd end up hitting the same wall of nothingness that somehow prevented him from passing.

  But it is worth the effort. El-Vador took a deep breath and faced himself due west. He spotted a stone twelve feet in front of him. His shadow touched it. He deliberately put one foot in front of the other and in two strides had reached it. Something tried to convince him that he'd gone far enough, but he picked another target and moved to it.

  With each step, the force tried to fight back. It tried to convince him that he need not go any further. But its argument melted in the face of his conviction that he did need to go further. In fact, its every attempt to discourage him just encouraged him more. He pitted his determination against that of the strange energies protecting the land and refused to be stopped.

  He glanced at his back trail. It looked as if he'd not gotten very far at all. Hopelessness slammed into him. He snarled. Indulging it was as bad as a warrior indulging in bad form. He would not. It was not part of him, so it would find no purchase in his mind or upon his soul.

  He turned back and pushed hard, then something broke. He stumbled forward, all opposition gone and all energy from the effort seemingly drained from him. El-Vador wasn't certain what had happened, but he figured it was not good.

  Slowly, jerkily, the ground beneath El-Vador coalesced into a form unlike any he had seen before. A shimmering translucence that seemed to warp the land behind it into form.

  The being rose from the earth and gazed at him, two points of light for eyes that seemed to blaze forth with a coldly malignant stare. This thing was the cause for the reluctance that El-Vador had felt, or its emergence had been triggered by his shattering of the barrier. It had no mouth, and staggered toward him soundlessly. It extended a clawed hand to snatch the now-drawn sword from El-Vador's grip.

  Wary of this new opponent, El-Vador retreated step by step. The cool sunlight tinted the creature's shimmering shape and confused his eyes with the dancing of light. All was silence as the figure continued to approach. He was thankful that the creature had not attempted to creep up on him, otherwise he would have been long dead.

  As the arm reached out, the Elf's reaction was automatic, he struck out instinctively at his foe.

  The blade whistled and smote the outstretched arm, which fell severed to the ground before them. No blood spurted from the translucent stump of the forearm, nor was there any cry of pain. The creature simply advanced.

  The wound would have slowed any ordinary warrior, but it appeared not to make any difference to the being before him. It merely withdrew the stump of the maimed arm and extended the other.

  El-Vador shot out a hand, blackness ready to gout forth and devour the enemy before him. Only nothing happened. El-Vador stood panting as he tried to will the energies forth, but he was truly spent. With widened eyes he watched as slowly, the creature continued its inexorable and unstoppable march toward him.

  Back they went, slowly being pushed out into the barrens and from whence he came. El-Vador swung lustily but retreated step by step before the unstoppable advance of the thing that came on and on.

  A blow at its remaining arm missed as the creature jerked the member out of the path of the sword, the impetus swung El-Vador half around and, before he could recover, it was almost upon him. Its appendage snatched at him, catching a fold of his shirt and tearing a chunk of it from his body, drawing blood underneath his chest that seemed to burn and ooze.

  El-Vador danced back and swung at the monster's head. The creature ducked, and again El-Vador had to scramble to keep out of its grip. At last he caught it a terrific blow on the side of the head, shearing off a large chunk of its skull. Another blow sent the head of the beast to the dusty floor of the barrens.

  The sword sank deep into the creature's ribs as an afterthought and almost lodged for a nearly fatal second in the spine before it was jerked loose once more.

  The thing was still alive. Its headless body shuffling toward him as if nothing could stop it. Untiring and unfaltering it continued, even though its body bore wounds that would have laid a dozen men in the dirt.

  His lungs laboured from the strokes as he fended off the beast without any power to augment his strikes, his heart pounded as if it were about to burst. Slash and strike as he would, nothing could even slow the thing that was forcing him to retreat.

  Unless he struck at the legs. Reasoning that if it could not walk it could not pursue him, he drove a fierce, back-handed slash against where he thought the creature's knee would reside. The creature collapsed, grovelling in the harsh dust of barrens. But still the unnatural life burned within the creature's translucent breast. It staggered to its feet again and lurched after the Elf, dragging its crippled leg behind it.

  Again El-Vador struck, again the creatur
e fell to the floor, but whatever aided its locomotion kept forcing it stand, to prevent the Elf from escaping its clutches. The pursuit was tireless and mechanical and El-Vador knew not how to escape it.

  Then something caught his ankle. Off balance, he fell full-length to the rough ground, kicking wildly in the dust to free his leg from a powerful grip. He stared down and felt his blood freeze when he saw the severed arm of the creature clutching his foot. He felt the bones grinding as the near invisible fingers gripped tighter together. Forcing the pommel of his sword down upon them he smashed his leg clear, letting out a howl of pain in the process.

  Then the shimmering shape of the nightmare loomed over him. The headless figure leaned down to grasp his throat and choke the life from him.

  El-Vador reacted by instinct. With all his will, he summoned forth black tendrils of power that struck out at the being before him.

  They stuck to the translucent flesh like fire to oil, sucking greedily upon the shifting nothingness as it writhed silently before him.

  Rolling to his feet, he grasped the member and hurled it into the darkness, swiftly following it with the head of the creature.

  The creature burned with the fury of dry brushwood as if dark flames ran up its form, leaping from limb to limb and converting it into a living torch. Still it tried to stagger forward in an attempt to grasp at the Elf, but he wisely kept his distance as it was consumed.

  Within minutes the creature was utterly devoured, leaving nothing of its passage but the unconscious body of El-Vador.

  LXIV

  The barrens are a miserable stretch of land that no civilised being would wish to call home. They are also extremely dangerous, as any quarry who is pursued has nowhere to hide upon their plains.

  He heard the signs of pursuit long before he saw them, or at least that's what he thought it was. There was no place to hide, he would have no choice but to turn and face this oncoming threat. He only hoped it wasn't more of the transparent force he had faced when breaching the barrier.

  That was when he saw her, soaring through the skies with wings a-flurry trying to get clear of her pursuers. The Orcs that followed were clad in black leather and sported both bows and spears. Dust stained their armour and from their haggard expressions it had been a long chase, but the pallor of their skin was enough to tell El-Vador that they were enemies.

  Their leader, a twisted creature running low to the ground, cranked a crossbow as he jogged after the Pixie, El-Vador suspected that one of those projectiles was going to hit sooner rather than later. Where was Anacletus in all of this? Had he not assured the Elf that Aliana would be under his protection? He silently cursed to himself and rued being foolish enough to trust the man.

  The Orc urged his forces on with savage curses. Bolts and arrows flew through the sky, some of them well wide of their target and others much closer.

  One of them shot through the air and clipped the wing of the retreating Pixie, sending her arcing toward the ground. She spun dizzyingly and landed in a crash of dust within sprinting distance of her pursuers, she didn't rise.

  El-Vador leaped forward to meet the opposition, picking up speed as he neared the body of his fallen companion.

  Arrows whistled past, the Orcs had spotted him, apparently not so entirely focused on capturing their victim that they were oblivious to his approach.

  He didn't plan on giving them the opportunity to close, pressing his palms outward and channelling the power within him. The now-familiar black stream soared outward, and a shiver passed up his spine as it engulfed and silenced the screaming prey.

  The revitalised feeling he gained from the power was no substitute for proper rest though, and El-Vador found himself weary and swaying from the exertion. The darkness extending from his outstretched arms ceased, apparently relying upon the energies to augment his traversing the barrens had sapped more strength than he realised.

  The remaining Orcs advanced upon him and he made sure to close the distance between himself and the prone Pixie, he couldn't afford her falling into Orcish hands for fear that the Brotherhood would make a swoop for her out of the ether as the traitor Anacletus had suggested. At least, that's what he told himself his motivations were.

  He readied his bow and side-stepped another bolt before whipping around and embedding an arrow in the offending Orc.

  The Orcs perceived the Elf's prowess with the bow and moved to close the gap even further, rather than try and pick him off from afar and risk the fate of their kindred soldiers.

  El-Vador drew his sword whilst abandoning his bow in one flowing motion, readying himself and counting their numbers. Four of them remained, and they seemed cautious about his appearance.

  The first Orc slashed at the Elf. El-Vador ducked the blow and struck. His cut caught the creature just above his thigh, shattering bone and slicing sinew. The lower half of the Orc's leg came off, arterial blood pulsing hot and red, while the creature slumped to the left and fell.

  El-Vador turned and kicked dust at the second Orc's head as he approached, the effect was instant, blinding the attacker and taking him off his stride. A quick slice to the neck was all it took, nearly beheading the offender.

  One of the remaining Orcs was wiser, raising a spear and choosing to keep his distance. 'We only seek the girl, stranger. We have no quarrel with you, stop barring our path and we will let you go from whence you came.'

  'You are Orcs, that is reason enough alone to slay you.' El-Vador stabbed his bloody sword forward and advanced on the two remaining soldiers. He knew better than to charge two armoured men, especially when one had a spear and could gut him easily with such a rushed approach. But because they had the advantage of numbers, if he did not carry the battle to them and quickly, they would regain their wits and trap him.

  He raced at them before they surrounded him and then, at the last moment, shifted his sword from right hand to left. This forced the spear-bearer to readjust to keep it on target. By the time he had done so, El-Vador had already made it past. His sword swept in with a whistling arc. The spear man’s shield came up and El-Vador's blade sparked as it struck the surface. The edge still caught the man in the forehead, denting his helmet instead of cleaving his skull in half.

  He spun away, shield flying, spear falling. El-Vador turned swiftly in response, searching for the second Orc that had slipped out of the periphery of his vision during the combat. The Orc came at him from his right, but the Elf was ready. Lowering his hand, he let the other Orc's blade flash past, missing its target as he swerved, then stabbed up through his opponent's armpit and ripped the blade free.

  His keen senses picked up the sound of breathing long before it could threaten his position. He spun and stalked toward the dying Orc with the lithe grace of a hungry panther, one who still had prey to toy with.

  The Orc took one look at him and scrambled to his feet, apparently the injury he had been dealt wasn't as great as the Elf initially had thought. He began to attempt a run in the opposite direction, but his seemingly drunken steps betrayed him and tangled his legs, sending him sprawling into the dirt of the barrens once more. The minion rolled on to his back and held his hands up in supplication as El-Vador approached. 'Please, I have information you need about the one you seek!'

  The Elf stared down at him, pressing the tip of his blade to the throat of his captive. 'What do you know that is of use to me? Speak quickly, Orc!'

  The Orc did not hesitate when given the chance. 'You seek Salvarius, but you know not what it is you are trying to oppose!'

  El-Vador's eyes narrowed. 'I have met the man before, he cannot have changed that much since our last encounter. Your words are useless to me, make peace with your heathen Gods.'

  'Wait, don't kill him.'

  El-Vador looked up as the Pixie approached, dust marked her but otherwise she seemed no worse for wear from her fall. 'He is an Orc, he must die.'

  'An Orc with information that I need. That we both need.'

  El-Vador glanced briefly
at her head, wondering if she were concussed from the fall. 'The Orc did not speak anything of value to me even under pain of death, what makes you think anything it says will not be falsehood?'

  'If the Orc proves false then you may kill him. I need to know what drew me out here first.'

  El-Vador paused at that, he had assumed that the Pixie would know why Anacletus was absent and why she had been subsequently chased out here. Was she as in the dark as he was?

  The Orc let out a brief chuckle that stilled into a cough, blood trickled down his throat from the bite of El-Vador's blade at the movement. 'You are the one that the woman seeks, that is why you are drawn.'

  She frowned. 'What do you mean drawn?'

  The minion eyed his blood nervously as it mingled on the blade with his former comrades. 'Salvarius travels with a woman, she seeks someone to bond with in ways I do not know. A spell draws you to her, and any Orc that lays claim to you can live the rest of his days in riches.'

  The Pixie folded her arms over her chest. 'You are saying that a spell has drawn me out into these barrens where my comrade so happens to be?'

  'An unlikely coincidence perhaps.' the Orc admitted, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. 'Do you not feel the urge within you? Do you not sense that what I speak of is true?'

  The brief pause must have felt like a lifetime to the creature beneath El-Vador's blade.

  'I do feel it.' Aliana finally said. 'Whether the rest of your words ring true we shall see in time.'

  'She seems to believe you, Orc.' El-Vador said, his blade slowly drifting off the Orc's throat. He held the creature's gaze as he cleaned and sheathed the weapon. 'You live and die by her word and the truth of your answers.'

  The Orc need not know that El-Vador planned to kill him regardless of what was said.

  Anacletus willed against the force holding him down continuously, stretching out his sensations and attempting to conjure the smoke to no avail. The power that held him down seemed mountainous in its vastness, his form buried deep under the roots and inextricable for all eternity.