by Callie Kanno
Hildar’s voice became less confident. “Roughly, a dozen.”
“Can you not tell?”
“Many of them come and go. It is difficult to tell them apart because Savion does not care.”
“Most of them will take part in the confrontation against Kurag,” mused Cowan, “but the location will make it difficult to retrieve the dagger.”
“It is rather exposed,” Hildar agreed.
“Can you draw the layout for me?”
Both voices fell silent, replaced by the sound of a stick being dragged through the dirt. Idris suppressed the urge to walk over to where Cowan and Hildar were crouched. They would only send him away again, insisting that he needed his sleep.
About an hour later, Kurag returned to the camp. “It is finished,” he said wearily. “The illusion will last for a single day.”
“Thank you,” said Cowan sincerely. “I know such complex rune work cannot be easy for you.”
Kurag snorted. “I may be old, but I have plenty of years ahead of me yet.”
“Let us wake the others,” Cowan instructed. “It would be best to get started.”
Idris got to his feet immediately, followed quickly by Aherin and Lenora. They shared rueful smiles, realizing that none of them had followed the captain’s suggestion to sleep. Cowan said nothing of their wakeful response, but simply gestured that they begin packing up the camp.
The group was ready to go in a matter of minutes. Kurag led them westward to a set of smaller trees. They were still as large as any tree Idris had seen in Calaris, but they seemed distinctly unimpressive when compared to their giant peers. Kurag raised his hand to bring everyone to a halt. “Look,” he said to them.
The Forger took several steps forward, then he suddenly was gone. There had been no transition or indication of change in the environment. He simply disappeared from sight. “What do you think?” Kurag’s voice called.
“Brilliant,” breathed Aherin.
Idris grinned and nodded in agreement. It seemed a perfect solution to keeping Lenora safe while they confronted the Hunters.
“How long does it last?” Cowan asked.
Kurag reappeared before them. “A day,” he answered. “Perhaps a little less.”
“The location is good,” Hildar observed. “The undergrowth makes it unappealing to walk through, which means it is less likely that someone will stumble in by accident.”
Kurag nodded. “It was the best spot I could find in the vicinity.”
“Well,” Cowan said briskly, “let us get on with it.”
Idris picked his way through the tangle of brush at his feet, looking for some sort of indication where the illusion began. He was through the border before he realized he had arrived. Once within the circle, Idris could see the glowing runes on the surrounding trees. The space was small—just large enough to hold Lenora and the horses—but it looked comfortable enough.
“Tie the horses up there,” Cowan said, pointing. “If there is anything you need from your saddlebags, get it now.”
Idris did as he was told. He retrieved his waterskin and his medical kit, then moved outside of the illusion to keep out of the way of the others. Lenora made her way over to stand next to him, her hands twisting in front of her.
“I am nervous about being left alone,” she admitted quietly. “What if something happens to all of you? How will I know if I need to go on to Bunarat by myself?”
“Well,” Idris replied, “I would think that once the illusion wears off there would be no point in waiting here.”
“What if something happens to you?” Lenora repeated faintly.
He shifted closer to her so their arms were touching. “I am more concerned with making sure you stay safe.”
“But I am not,” she said with a flash of anger in her eyes. “Do you suppose for a moment that I value my own life over yours?”
“You should,” Idris answered honestly. “I am just a soldier, but you are the heir to Breen.”
Lenora made an impatient noise. “You are speaking like a fool.”
Idris couldn’t help but smile. “I can be quite foolish from time to time.”
“This is not a joking matter,” she reprimanded him.
“I know,” Idris acknowledged more seriously. “I am sorry.”
“The plan is for you to distract the Hunters while Hildar sneaks into their camp to get her dagger, but it is not as if you can disengage whenever you are finished,” Lenora pointed out. “The Hunters are intent on killing Kurag—probably all of you, at this point. Once you engage them, you will have to see the fight through.”
“Captain Cowan understand that,” said Idris. “We all do.”
Cowan’s voice called out to the group, gathering them together. “Time to get going. Your highness, is there anything you need before we part ways?”
Lenora shook her head. “No, Captain. I will be quite comfortable while I await your return.”
She started to walk into the circle of illusion, but Idris hurried to catch up with her. “I will come back for you. I promise.”
Lenora paused only long enough to give him a small smile. Then she disappeared into the perimeter of the rune protection. Idris stared at the point where he had last seen her, wishing that he had been brave enough to say more.
“This way, Idris,” Aherin called amiably.
Cowan led the way to the north, eventually coming to a faded dirt road that intersected with their path. “I believe this road goes to our destination,” Hildar offered, sound much less certain than Idris would’ve wished.
Kurag shrugged. “It leads north, so it cannot be too wrong at this point.”
“Once we break from the trees, Hildar will split from our group,” Cowan instructed. “We will follow the tree line northward until we meet the Hunters. I am certain they will not make us wait long.”
“How will we know if we have succeeded?” Aherin asked.
Cowan’s expression was grim. “Anyone who survives will meet back at where Princess Lenora is waiting for us.”
His words sent a chill down Idris’s spine. He knew that they were walking into a trap, but he had always relied on Cowan’s strength in dangerous situations. Now the captain was saying, if we survive…
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Blood Dagger
Idris felt strangely exposed walking in the grassland just outside the edge of the massive forest. The faded road had left the protection of the trees not long after they had started following it. Hildar had left the group with nothing more than a nod, leaving the four men to continue on their own.
“How far away do you suppose the Hunters are waiting?” Aherin asked in a low voice.
“Not far,” Kurag answered. “I would be surprised if they are not watching us at this moment.”
Idris could also feel the prickle on the back of his neck that warned him they were being watched. He suppressed a shudder. “I wish they would just get on with it.”
As if responding to a summons, half a dozen men in dark cloaks stepped out of the trees just ahead of them. They were all heavily armed, with expressions that were dark and determined. A glance over Idris’s shoulder showed him that four more men had taken position behind them.
Idris’s instinct was to slow to a stop, but Cowan kept moving forward. He walked up to the Hunters looking as confident as always. “You have something that belongs to us,” the captain of the Royal Guard announced.
The Hunter in the front was a man with long black hair and a full beard. His eyes were unusually narrow, which contrasted strangely with the rest of his round features. He crossed his arms against his chest, looking proud and disdainful. “Those abominations do not belong to anyone, except the Prince of Darkness.”
Idris frowned in confusion. He had never heard of such a being before. Was the Hunter referring to the Forgers? Or perhaps some sort of evil deity? If Cowan was equally perplexed by the cryptic reference, he didn’t show it. “An item of power that has been forged correctly is only
as evil as those who wield it.”
The Hunter leader sneered at the captain’s words. “Is that so? Well, perhaps a review of that dagger’s history will shed some light on the matter.” He held up a finger. “That weapon first came to knowledge in the hands of Arik the Bloodless, who used it to murder his entire family.” The Hunter held up a second finger. “Next it was wielded by Tian Iceheart, who took it from the hand of her master after he had gone insane. She killed him with his own dagger, then spent the next ten years terrorizing every village she could find.”
Cowan gave a weary sigh. “I am familiar with Savion’s history…”
The Hunter would not be stopped now that he had begun. His voice rose steadily to a shout. “Let us not forget Haran the Divider, who gutted his victims, or Killian Fireking, who burned anyone who displeased him, or Domarre the Corruptor, who almost overthrew the kingdom of Calaris.”
“What of Helena, daughter of Wis?” interrupted Cowan. “She was a healer.”
“Yes,” scoffed the Hunter, “and she became so insane that she burned down an entire village. If the dagger is not to blame for so many evil acts, as you claim, then I can only surmise that it attracts evil wielders. In either case, it must never be used again.”
“I said a correctly forged weapon bore no evil,” Cowan stipulated. “The dagger you have taken from us was flawed in its creation.”
Exultation flared in the Hunter’s eyes. “You say I am right!”
“No,” said Cowan, “I am trying to explain to you our purpose. The dagger was flawed in its creation, and we wish to correct that flaw. We have asked Kurag to reforge the dagger, purging it of darkness. We do not wish to create more items of power, we only wish to purify one that already exists. In this respect, our desires are similar.”
The Hunter looked deeply offended. “How dare you compare your corrupt enterprises with our holy purpose!”
“You wish to remove dark creations from existence, and we are doing exactly that,” Cowan insisted. “We are taking a weapon that has been primarily used for evil and changing it into one that could be a force for good.”
“SILENCE,” roared the Hunter, a flare of spittle flecking his beard. His eyes were wide and his body rigid. “I will bear no more blasphemy. A cloth cannot be cleaned in a pool of mud. Neither can the fount of darkness be used to cleanse darkness.”
It sounded to Idris like the man was raving. He had been raised with a strong moral code. He liked to think that he could tell the difference between good and bad. Yet this man made it sound like anyone who used a weapon of power was a monster. Iona may have her faults, but Idris knew beyond any doubt that she was not evil. It bothered Idris that the Hunters were assuming that all items of power were bad, based only on a few examples.
“You will not let us pass in peace?” Cowan asked quietly.
“Never,” hissed the Hunter. “I will not rest until ever Forger is buried in the ground and every abomination has been thrown into a volcano.”
Cowan brought his bo staff to a defensive position. “Very well,” he replied.
***
Hildar crawled forward on her stomach, trying to get a better view of the Hunters’ camp. It had taken her longer than she would have liked to get into position without being seen. There was little cover in the area surrounding the lone hill, which was probably why the Hunters had chosen the location.
From what she could tell, there were only three Hunters that remained in the camp to guard her dagger. She toyed with the idea of rushing forward to attack them, but eventually discarded it. It would be smarter to take them out one by one, using stealth.
Hildar could feel Savion’s presence in her mind. Once she had confirmed the location of the camp, she had tried to shut him out again. However, that was no longer as simple as it had once been. She had been forced to give herself to him in order to connect deeply enough to locate him. Savion now owned her soul, just as she now owned his.
Horrific memories flashed through her mind—memories that were not her own. Visions of blood and fire; unearthly screams filling her ears. Hildar clutched at her chest, trying desperately to calm her racing heart.
She had done more than seen Savion’s dark past. She had lived it. She had felt his twisted exultation every time he had conquered his master’s mind. Some of them had given control to him willingly, but the ones Savion truly savored were the wielders who had started out with noble intentions—wielders such as Hildar. He loved manipulating every situation to see what kind of advantage he could gain. He loved seeing the slow corruption of the human mind, for who could tell how it would turn out?
It was a game to the dagger, one with higher stakes than Hildar could face. She wondered if they would all be better off leaving the weapon for the Hunters to destroy.
Come now, Savion’s oily voice slid through her mind. Do you not think you are overreacting? I admit that my past is not ideal, but that was before I met you. I truly have never seen a human with as much potential as you hold. We could alter the course of history together! I swear to you I am not trying to control your mind. I just wish to work together so we can discover all that we are capable of doing.
Hildar had heard this all before, in one form or another. At first it was just the flattery, coupled with hints on how to get the most out of her training. Her quick advancement had excited her, which made her willing to believe what Savion told her. Perhaps she was as talented as he claimed. Perhaps they were meant to do extraordinary things together.
The helpful hints had slowly turned to suggestions of letting Savion direct their power. After all, he had much more experience than her. He could show her the best ways to go about doing the tasks they were performing.
Then there was that terrible night in Rest Stone Valley…
Savion had spent a good deal of time since then trying to convince Hildar that he wasn’t a threat to her. He showered all sorts of promises down on her, insisting that what had happened was simple a transition stage for when she would be the one holding all of their joint power.
So many promises made to so many different people. Yet, they were all lies. The only one who ever benefitted was Savion, if one could call his results beneficial.
You need not enter the camp to retrieve me, Savion whispered to her. I have told you this before. I will fly to you on wings of fire!
Hildar shuddered as another set of memories passed through her mind. Savion was not speaking of the instantaneous transportation that Idris somehow managed with his partisan. Rather, the dagger shot through the air, causing as much damage as possible along the way. Tian Iceheart had razed entire villages using that technique alone.
No, Hildar swore to herself. She would not use Savion’s power until he had been reforged. That would be the only way she could do so safely.
I do not need to be reforged, Savion insisted. Your mentor is trying to destroy your potential. He knows it cannot be done without addling your mind.
Be quiet, Hildar finally snapped at him. I need to concentrate.
Yes, Savion agreed, but not on the task you currently survey.
Hildar didn’t have any desire to consider the dagger’s purposefully vague statement. It was just another mind game. He wanted her to wonder what he meant, to ask him to clarify. He wanted her to think about what she ‘should’ be concentrating on, rather than what she was doing. She would not allow him to manipulate her anymore.
Hildar thought about what Kurag had said to her during one of their private conversations. There is a reason items of power are created as they are, he had told her. They are sentient, and yet they cannot act without a master. While it is true that Savion is strong, he is not stronger than you. If he were stronger than you, he would not need you. You are the life that gives him strength, for without a master an item of power is never truly awake. Without you, Hildar, Savion is nothing.
The Forger’s words had comforted her then, and they buoyed her up now. Savion had told her the truth about one thing: she wa
s more powerful than she imagined. She would use that strength now to see this mission through to the end.
***
Idris found himself facing two of the Hunters that attacked from behind. One was a short, squat man who looked as though a hurricane wouldn’t knock him over. The other was a person that Idris couldn’t easily identify as either male or female. The Hunter was thin, with sharp features and a shaved head. The squat Hunter wielded a wide axe, while the androgynous Hunter held a spear. They each began moving in opposite directions, taking slow deliberate steps.
Do not let them flank you, Iona warned.
Idris shifted his position, choosing an opponent to attack. He lunged toward the Hunter with the axe, thrusting the blade of his partisan at the man’s body. The Hunter blocked the blow easily, but then Idris swung the butt of his polearm around to strike the Hunter’s shoulder. The man grunted, taking a step back.
Quickly, Iona urged, before he recovers.
The Hunter with the spear was already advancing on Idris. The young Royal Guard followed through with his momentum, turning to face his other enemy. He used the flat of the partisan’s blade to force the spear tip down to the ground, lodging it in the dirt. Then, taking a quick step backwards, Idris jabbed the end of his partisan into the stomach of the Hunter with the axe.
The androgynous Hunter dug the spear even deeper into the ground, then used it to flip dirt and pebbles up into Idris’s face. Idris’s eyes stung from the tiny projectiles, momentarily disorienting him. He spun away from his two opponents, frantically trying to clear his vision.
The Hunter with the spear charged at Idris head-on. Idris turned aside the spear with the length of his partisan, followed by a sharp kick to the Hunter’s knee. A loud crack sounded through the air, joined by the howl of agony from the Hunter.
The squat Hunter brought his axe to bear, making a chopping motion at Idris’s arm. Idris dropped down below the attack, using his partisan to sweep at the legs of his enemy. The Hunter stumbled out of the way, losing his footing.