Time Spiral

by Scott McGough

  Radha touched the tip of a kukri blade to the bottommost log in the pile. She concentrated, gathering hot fiery mana and pushing it through the blade on into the timber. The wood beneath her knife point began to smolder. A few seconds more and she’d have infused the log with enough magical energy to explode whenever she wanted. Until then, it was just waiting to burn.

  The first tiny flames sprang up and danced along the log’s bottom side. One of the slaves turned—perhaps the man smelled smoke or heard the sizzle of mana sparks. Radha held the grizzled man’s eyes for a moment, but he quickly looked away. She kept her dagger stuck in the log and bared her teeth. She waved curtly until he raised his eyes again, then she broadly pantomimed covering her own mouth with her hand. She tilted her head toward the overseer. With her free hand, she drew her index finger across her throat.

  The slave didn’t understand. He barely seemed to register the fact that she was there. She saw no recognition in his face, only confusion, exhaustion, and fear.

  “Commander,” the tired, sallow man said, “there’s someone at the carts.”

  The overseer turned and let out a loud warning shout. Without waiting for his comrades or glancing at his inert charges, the burly warrior drew a short stabbing sword and advanced, blade in one hand and scourge in the other.

  Radha snarled at the slave, and though her hand leaped to her hip, she left the blade in its sheath. Letting it fly to kill this tattletale would do no good now—the damage was done, and she would need all the weapons she had against the Gathans. She did pause a moment to memorize the man’s face. Someday, she would hunt the coward for sport and cut him to death by inches, but for now she would let him live with being what he was: a cur who kisses the hand that beats him.

  She stepped back from the cart and drew the second kukri. Now that the overseer had spotted her, he seemed amused by the sight. Why wouldn’t he be? The whip had a far longer range than her daggers, and its tip was already glowing with magical fire. As far as the overseer knew, he could lash Radha to death from a safe distance with just a single stroke of the whip.

  She raised one of her grandfather’s blades high and let out a shriek that stopped the overseer’s advance short and caused each of the slaves to cover their ears. She lifted the other dagger, struck sparks from their sharp edges, then drove one of the blades deep into the smoking log beside her.

  The overseer’s arm was a blur as he raised his whip and brought it down. Radha made no move to defend herself or avoid the flaming lash. She simply watched the red-hot tip as it sliced through the air bound for her face. She concentrated.

  The Gathan’s scourge was long and fast, but not longer than the logs in the cart … and not faster than Radha’s magic. It was trickier to detonate only the far end of the mana-stuffed log, but the extra effort was worth it for priceless look on the overseer’s face.

  The felled tree burst right beside the tip of the overseer’s whip. Still ten feet from its intended target, the tough strip of hide was shredded by the concussion of Radha’s explosion before the heat set each shred on fire. Radha was blasted by a cloud of ashy grit, which she bore with a wide, wolfish grin.

  As an unexpected bonus, flaming splinters of wood also peppered the overseer and the first two rows of slaves. The man who had betrayed Radha to the overseer fell screaming with a slashed forehead and a sharp wooden splint sticking out of his bicep.

  Not enough, Radha thought. Not nearly enough. I’m still going to hunt him.

  Her ears were ringing but the explosion had left her otherwise untouched. The rest of the logs in the cart were burning as they rolled into the space cleared by the explosion. The slaves all stayed as they were, curled up like frightened children during a late-night thunderstorm. The rest of the Gathans converged on her position as the overseer tried to shake life back into his truncated scourge, the sword in his other hand forgotten. He seemed far less amused.

  The Keldon elf raised her kukri blades once more. The air around her became full of fiery leaves that burned in a colorful patchwork of red, yellow, and green. Backed by his ’host-mates, the overseer threw aside the remains of his whip and extended his sword. As one, the Gathans came forward, their metal boots stomping in unison.

  Radha sprang out to meet them on her long, loping legs. She hit the ground hard ten feet from her enemy, bending deep as her feet drove into the frozen dirt. Her long legs rippled and Radha shot straight up in the air, soaring high enough to hurdle the entire band of raiders. Her flight was a feint, however, as Radha tucked and spun so that she came down in front of the charging Gathans instead of among them.

  Too late, the overseer realized that Radha had not passed him over as a target. He tried to dodge, but their formation was too tight. Instead of hurling himself aside, he merely jostled the Gathans to his left without changing position.

  Howling, Radha came down on the overseer’s face with both daggers. The blades stuck fast in the Gathan’s forehead, and she savored his expression as most of his face vanished below her clenched fists.

  The overseer struck back immediately. Before the blades could sink in, he buried his calloused fist in Radha’s stomach. Her body folded around the Gathan’s arm and she grunted explosively. The blow was so strong that it actually carried Radha up and cast her back several yards before dropping her seat-first on the ground. Her spine twisted painfully as she bounced and half-rolled into a clumsy heap. Straining, she hauled her face out of the dirt and tried to fix on her enemy.

  The overseer smiled as blood from the gashes in his forehead collected in his bushy eyebrows. He rolled his eyes up as if trying to see the wound, then locked onto Radha. Searing orange pinpricks of light sat in the center of his pupils.

  “Strike harder, elf-girl,” he said. The overseer slammed his bleeding forehead with his own clenched fist and the sound echoed off the rocks on the ridge. “Gathan skulls don’t crack so easy.”

  Radha spat bloody foam to the side and rose. Breathing was exquisite agony, and she had to keep her left arm pressed tight against her side. Each backward step she took sent crippling shivers through her legs and lower torso. She kept her head tilted at an angle because holding it upright made her entire left side go numb.

  Worst of all, she had lost one of the kukri she’d stuck in the overseer’s forehead. That was less pressing than it would be otherwise, as she only had one free hand anyway (the left being necessary to hold her ribs in place so she could breathe).

  Astor’s blades should not have balked on the overseer’s skull. She had driven them in with all her might and all the momentum of her fall behind it. More, she was physically flush with fire from the mountain, which she still felt like fever in her blood. She was stronger and sharper than she’d ever been and it hadn’t mattered at all.

  The Gathans advanced on her, an organized, a coherent unit acting in perfect concert. Radha’s anger began to blot out her pain. There was no warlord among them, yet their natural strength and durability was somehow being enhanced. She could almost see the flow of vital energy moving back and forth among the raiders with the overseer at its hub.

  Had Greht’s false Keldons become so strong that his trench-level commanders were now capable of warlord-level magic?

  The overseer’s shoulder twitched. In response, the two leanest Gathans came out ahead of the others. They split up in a perfectly symmetrical pattern as they approached Radha with their long swords drawn. One circled left and the other right, but Radha stood rock-still, her head positioned precisely to see all the Gathans at once. Only her eyes moved as they shifted between the raiders coming at her.

  They attacked simultaneously. Without so much as a glance at each other or a nod from the overseer, the two lanky Gathans both sprang at Radha. Through her haze it seemed she had hours to respond. The one from the left held his sword by his hip, low and angled upward, looking to run Radha through. The one from the right swung his blade in a high, sweeping, overhand chop.

  Her left side was useless, in
defensible with the arm covering her ribs, so she concentrated on the threat from her right. Dodging the Gathan’s chop would be simple but would leave her wide open to the point of the other raider’s sword. She could try to twist around the chopper and pull him into his partner’s thrust, but such a maneuver required exquisite timing and perfect muscle control, neither of which Radha currently had.

  Her options limited, Radha decided to do the least likely thing she could imagine. She dropped Astor’s dagger and jerked her other arm off her ribs. Radha grunted in pain as her hands shot to her belt, each ripping free a gleaming silver tear. With the Gathans only a few steps away, Radha threw her arms out and sent a blade spinning end over end toward each of her enemies.

  The chopping Gathan on her right stutter-stepped and slid past Radha’s blade without losing momentum. The other simply charged through the tumbling blade so that it slashed a deep but nonlethal furrow along his jaw bone.

  As she toppled, Radha threw herself to her left. This made her an easy target for the thruster, but the chopper’s dodge had taken him totally out of position. His blow missed entirely.

  That left Radha free to deal with the raider on her left. If he was surprised or amused by her strange, suicidal move, he gave no sign. He delivered the blow he’d committed to, just as the other had, but this thrust could not help but strike home.

  Radha’s broken ribs grated painfully against each other as the saber plunged in a few inches above her left hip. She pulled back from the thrust, but the Gathan stepped forward so that the blade continued to penetrate. Radha slapped her hands around the sword, sacrificing the flesh on her palms to slow the saber’s progress. She partially succeeded, as only an inch or two of the Gathan’s blade emerged on the opposite side.

  The raider’s muscles tensed as he prepared to shove the sword in to its hilt, but Radha threw herself back. Her tormentor stepped forward again, this time angling his saber so that it would do serious damage even if she succeeded in pulling free. Radha twisted her body and guided the blade with her clasped hands as she hit the ground, so that the protruding tip behind her bit sharply into the rocks. The point skidded slightly as the Gathan thrust down as hard as he could.

  Radha gasped as the tip finally caught against the rocks. The blade snapped in two places, an inch from the point and halfway between her hands and the Gathan’s. Radha put an arm beneath her and rolled herself away from the enemy.

  The raider paused to angrily inspect his sword, part of which was still lodged in Radha. He snorted and cursed at her, raising his broken blade. Radha snarled back, blood dripping from her clenched teeth. He stepped toward her, and Radha plucked the segment of sword from her body, cocked her arm, and hurled it into the center of its former owner’s forehead.

  No time to celebrate, no time to think. Still halfway between standing and sprawled, Radha now tumbled forward to avoid the whistling sound of the other Gathan’s second chop. His sword also bit deep into the rocks in the ground, but this blade remained intact.

  Radha rolled up onto her feet, but the pain in her ribs was too much for her to stand. She teetered, lost her balance, then slumped onto her side with her legs folded under her.

  With five inches of steel protruding from his face, the first Gathan finally collapsed, falling between Radha and the wild-eyed chopper. The surviving raider changed his grip, ignoring his fallen comrade in favor of glaring at Radha, but the overseer’s deep, booming voice called, “Hold.”

  The chopper lost interest in Radha as if she’d disappeared. He sheathed his sword and stood rock-still.

  “Back in line.” The overseer was behind her now, standing casually across ten feet of open space. He had had marched the rest of the raiders in close to watch, and now he spread his arms out on each side. The Gathan near Radha sprinted past her and fell in among the rest of the raiders, each of them waiting for their next order.

  The overseer glared at Radha. Dark gray vapor steamed from his nose and mouth. She sneered back.

  “Well?” she rasped.

  She drew another tear-shaped blade with her right hand as she repositioned her left across her abdomen. The left arm was doing double duty now, staunching the deep stab wound as well as holding her broken ribs in place.

  The overseer lowered his arms. He lazily lifted his palm so that his bicep bulged. “Fresh whip,” he said.

  “Understood.” One of the Gathans climbed up the lead cart, rummaged around near the driver’s seat, and tossed a stout, short-handled scourge to the overseer.

  Radha, Teferi’s voice came to her, calm and clear-headed. Your journey can end here, if you like, but I have grander things in mind.

  Radha paused for a moment. It was the planeswalker’s voice, as cultured and as self-important as ever. The overseer was still glowering and showing off his new whip. The rest were chuckling at the sad figure she presented or muttering dark threats in their guttural voices.

  I liked you better dead, she thought. You talked less.

  I was never dead, Teferi said, merely in a state of deep meditation.

  You should try dead. I think it would suit you.

  I have been pondering what I learned in the Book of Keld. Teferi went on smoothly. I have been trying to see how to best make myself understood.

  Radha ignored him and focused on reclaiming the kukri dagger she’d dropped when the two Gathans attacked. She might never find the one she’d stuck in the overseer’s head … assuming it was still intact … but she’d be thrice-damned before she’d abandon this one.

  She leaned toward the dagger, stretching her long arm as she tried to keep from overbalancing. She quickly hooked the handle of Astor’s weapon with the tip of her metal tear-blade and dragged the kukri to her.

  Nearby, the overseer’s eyes sparkled with dark joy. His posturing was over; he was ready for her.

  Radha, here is what I have learned from my meditation. I won’t waste our time by offering a bargain, but I do think it’s time I made myself clear.

  Radha didn’t even have the energy to insult the planeswalker properly. She sheathed her blade and dug the tip of Astor’s kukri dagger into the rocks, using it to push herself into an upright sitting position.

  The overseer stretched a length of the whip between his hands and said, “Give me some room.”

  The other raiders backed up, unconsciously clearing a perfect semicircle rimmed with their feral, hungry leers. Carefully, the overseer drew back his arm and sent a lazy, rolling hump along the length of his whip as it stretched out behind him.

  Radha got to her knees, still clutching Astor’s dagger, her chest rattling and wheezing like an old kettle. The pain in her back and legs was blinding, and though she had to tilt her head like a quizzical bird, Radha stared unwavering into the overseer’s eyes.

  The Gathan stared right back, but his gaze was diffuse and glassy. Radha squinted, looking closer. Instead of orange flame, there were now tiny pinpricks of blue light in the overseer’s pupils. The whip-wielding brute’s large, dark eyes vanished behind two growing circles of sapphire. Everything else about the overseer’s face remained savage and cruel, but his eyes were now solid blue coins of liquid light. He seemed to Radha some kind of clockwork doll, mindless, lit from within by some arcane engine.

  I need to make a point, the overseer said, but it was Teferi’s voice and Radha heard it directly in her head. An example, if you will. The Gathans must have heard him the same way, because the whole platoon quickly lost the arrogant air of blood-sport spectators and started whispering as they looked nervously at each other.

  The overseer turned. His newly acquired scourge glowed red along its entire length. The assembled Gathans grumbled and cursed, openly staring at the strange state of his eyes. Radha saw confusion and disarray in her enemies for the first time, perhaps even fear.

  With a gargantuan effort, Radha forced herself up on to one foot, her left knee still folded beneath her. Blood still ran from her lips and she was half-mad with pain, but there was
no way she was going to miss this.

  But Teferi was not waiting for her. Any three will do, he said, speaking through the overseer’s lips. The Gathan commander’s face was still fixed in a cruel smirk, frozen and immobile, but his arm licked out three times in rapid succession.

  From the semicircle of raiders, every third one shrieked or gasped before staggering back with his hands clapped to his face. The overseer’s mouth opened wide and stayed that way as Teferi’s voice rang out over the campsite.

  Hark ye, children of this cold, hard place, he said. Be you Keldon, Gathan, Skyshroud, or anything in between, take heed: I am Teferi, planeswalker, and I am trying to save your world.

  It does not matter that you do not care. I care, and I am weary of treating you bad-mannered adolescents as adults and getting only violence and abuse for my patience.

  I have tried to speak to you in your own language, your own idiom, but I fear I have not made myself plain, so I will try again, using terms even you cannot misinterpret.

  The three freshly lashed raiders had all stepped back into formation during Teferi’s address. Their whip-torn faces were ragged and bleeding, but the wounds were also glowing pale orange in the gloom.

  The overseer’s sightless eyes scanned the line of raiders. His mouth remained wide open. Through him, Teferi said, Now.

  The overseer raised his whip just high enough for the handle to clear his own head. Casually, he brought it down with a small crack, sending up a dry plume of dust and rocks near his feet.

  In direct response, each of the lashed Gathan raiders exploded into a steaming shower of meat, mist, and red-hot embers. The others scurried to get clear of the triple-part blast. Though their faces were pale and awe-struck, they did not cry out.

  Teferi’s voice rose again, freezing the Gathans in place. Return to your master, the Warlord Greht. Tell him Teferi Planeswalker says, “Greht will not have his armada this year. Nor the next. Nor ever, unless Teferi allows it.”