Rivers Run Red (The Morhudrim Cycle Book 1)

by A. D. Green

  “Go on then, fetch it,” Morten shouted.

  Marron saw that he had launched a stick far out into the river. Both Ash and Snow had grudgingly come to accept Morten over the past few days. It probably helped that he’d taken to feeding them. The two dogs leapt into the river after the stick and she smiled at the sight of it. They were young still and had lots of energy to burn off.

  Marron glanced back at Mercy and saw she hadn’t moved, her gaze still fixed back on the road.

  “What is it?” Marron asked turning, looking back at their wagon.

  “Lone horseman,” Mercy replied.

  Marron saw the man sat upon his horse. He was in conversation with Stama whilst Lucky, the two Red Cloaks and the blacksmith watched on. There was something off about the scene but she couldn’t place what.

  Stama turned pointing them out and the horseman followed the stretch of his arm. It was hard to tell but Marron thought him young. He carried himself like a young man. His blonde hair was long and blew lazily in the breeze. The man sat on his horse a while looking directly at them. Marron felt a sense of unease.

  The rider turned back to Stama and the others. He must have said something for as one they all abruptly sat. It looked incongruous and Marron felt her pulse rising as he moved off the road towards them. She had a bad feeling in her gut.

  “Be ready, something isn’t right here,” Mercy said, slipping the tie off her sword hilt.

  As he drew close Marron’s assessment proved accurate. He was tall and slender, maybe twenty years if she had to guess an age. He looked weary though; his face pale and drawn like he’d not slept in a while. His clothes, which looked to be of fine make and weave, were dirty and tattered in places and one of the sleeves on his overcoat was ripped and torn at the shoulder.

  Drawing to a halt ten paces from them he casually dismounted leaving his horse free to wander off and graze amongst the meadow grass. The man stood with a lazy jaunt regarding them, his blue eyes taking them in one at a time, but saying nothing.

  Maise and Thunder’s hackles rose and they rumbled deep in the back of their throats. Marron calmed them with a word, then with a splash Ash and Snow scrambled out of the river. Ash had won the stick Marron saw but dropped it in an instant at the sight of the stranger. Both dogs barked, snarling at him and stalked forwards menacingly.

  “Ash, Snow down,” Marron commanded, staring at each dog until they sunk to their bellies at the edge of the long grass, their eyes firmly fixated on the stranger. Marron turned back to the man but it was Mercy that spoke.

  “Dogs don’t seem overly keen on you stranger. State your name and business?” she said gruffly. Her hand rested on her sword hilt and Marron was suddenly aware she hadn’t brought her own blade with her. Foolish she chided herself. Darion would have a word to say about that if he were here.

  “I am Sand. My business…” The man paused as if mulling the word over. “Yes that is a good word, I like that,” His voice was oily and smooth, sounding older than it should. Lip curling to a grin he gazed at them, his blue eyes piercing. He seemed unfazed by the dogs' menace and as his eyes alighted upon Marron she had the uncomfortable impression she was being assessed like a piece of meat.

  “I am looking for someone,” Sand stated.

  “And who might that be?” Mercy asked a hard edge to her voice.

  “Ah well therein lies the problem,” the man said. “I am not entirely sure.”

  “Well I suggest you move on and look for them elsewhere,” Mercy said. “There’s nothing here for you.”

  Marron agreed. The man didn’t look intimidating but there was a dangerous demeanour about him. He didn’t seem quite right somehow. The voice didn’t fit the body and there was an arrogant air to him that Marron didn’t like.

  “What say you? Is there nothing here for me?” Sand asked turning to Marron.

  “You were asked to move on. I suggest you leave now,” Morten interjected stepping forward. He looked hale and hearty next to the paleness of the stranger and stood half a hand taller. The man looked through Morten as if he wasn’t there.

  “It’s not you boy,” Sand responded cocking his head to the side. It was his eyes, Marron decided. They were dead; the light behind the piercing blue gaze flat and cold.

  “It’s alright Morten,” Marron said placing a hand on his arm. She addressed the man again. “Be on your way.”

  The man bowed his head and gave a heavy sigh. “No not you either. Nor you.” His eyes flicked to Mercy dismissing her then back past Marron’s shoulder to fasten on Nihm.

  “Well, I guess that just leaves the girl.” Sand smiled, sending a shiver down Marron’s spine and her hand reaching for the knife at her hip.

  There was a rasp of steel as Mercy drew her sword. “Go now whilst you’re able.” She spread her feet taking a stance, sword point lowered but ready.

  “Now that is not very friendly.” The man held his hands up and open.

  A sudden distortion appeared in his right hand, the meadow grass at his feet blackened and withered in an instant. The distortion swirled and strengthened, growing into a pulsating ball of dark energy.

  Mercy didn’t hesitate, stepping forward she brought her sword tip up ready to strike.

  Marron drew her knife smoothly, crouching into an old combat stance. At her motion the dogs leapt forward as one.

  Morten stood still, unsure what to do. His eyes transfixed by the ball of energy in the man’s hand.

  Suddenly it detonated. A blinding flash of light ripped out, followed instantly by a huge sonic shockwave. Sweeping out it engulfed everyone.

  Marron was thrown from her feet. Pain flashed through her skull, eyes blinded and ears ringing. She blinked furiously but her eyes wouldn’t clear, her head felt like spikes had been driven into her brain.

  Instinct kicked in, training Marron had thought long forgotten. Training from the Order Halls back when she was barely older than Nihm. A mantra played through her mind pushing against the pain, suppressing it. Deaf and blind she was at least able to focus. She muttered a cant under her breath; strange because she couldn’t hear herself. Focusing on the words, Marron willed power into them. She lay there momentarily then released her incantation. Her senses were clouded still as her casting settled over her and pushed outward.

  Her eyes saw nothing but spots though the whiteness was fading and clearing slowly, too slowly. The ringing in her ears ebbed away, still there in the background but she found she could make out sounds.

  Listening she heard quiet movement in the long grass. The sound was near, the man close and getting closer. She laid still, she would only get one chance and it would likely be a blind one at that.

  Marron gripped the knife, miraculously still in her hand. She would have to wait until the last possible instant to strike. Still blinded she needed him close. Near enough so she couldn’t miss. He wore no armour just tattered clothes. One chance, one opportunity, it was all she’d get.

  Sudden silence, the sound of his passage had stilled. Marron felt him near but where? He moved again and she tensed straining to work out where he was. Behind, he’d stepped past her moving away, moving towards Nihm. Marron blinked again furiously trying to clear her vision.

  He spoke then, quietly, and Marron strained to hear his voice over the wind rustled grass and murmur of the river.

  “So young for so much power and yet here you lie, helpless.” His voice was soft. “The Red Cloak called you a cripple and a mute. Is that right?”

  “Gog gug uorsov.” It was Nihm and she sounded furious. Marron detected a blur of colours returning, gripping her knife she waited. If Nihm could keep him talking she would gut him like a fish.

  The man laughed, clapping his hands. “Oh joy, a mute cripple. All that power tied up in an empty, useless vessel. I mean how lucky am I?”

  Marron tilted her head back and made out the vague shape of him crouched over Nihm’s prone body.

  “Is that anger or hatred in your eyes I wonder?
Both are good but I hope for hatred. Anger burns hard but dies all too fast. Hatred is strong and lasting, much more satisfying.” He stood then, towering over Nihm.

  “I tell you what. Just to be sure mind you. I will kill your dogs,” Sand said. “Then I will kill the dangerous woman with the scar on her face. Quickly I think, she does not look like she will give me much and I don’t have the time to break her. Time presses and I need to move onto your boyfriend and if I am not mistaken your mother, yes?”

  Marron heard a crick like a knuckle popping only softer.

  “I am going to cut off your boyfriend’s cock,” he said, his voice almost whimsical before suddenly shouting. “Hear that boy I’m going to cut your cock off.” He lowered his voice again. “I am not a complete devil though. I will let you keep it. Place it right in your hand. Give you something to hold onto whilst I work on your mother.” He laughed. “I look forward to that. They say it is good to enjoy your work and you know I think they are right, whoever they are.”

  Marron’s vision was still blurred but it was good enough to discern the vague shape of the man as he turned away from Nihm. He moved softly over towards the dogs and out of her field of view. There was a soft whimper and whine then silence, broken suddenly.

  “Guk ou. Guk ou.” Nihm screamed over and over, head thrashing.

  A tear leaked from Marron’s eye and before she knew it she was rolling to her feet, knife held out in front. The man’s back was to her, fuzzy but distinct enough to see he stood over the body of Thunder, his knife dark with blood.

  Mercy suddenly staggered into view sword gripped tight in one hand staff in the other. Shaking her head and blinking her eyes she swayed like a drunkard, sword point wavering.

  Sand sheathed his knife at the sight of her and slowly clapped. “Bravo indeed. I am truly impressed. You must have the constitution of an ox.”

  He held a hand out as Mercy lurched towards him and a small swirling black mass formed in his palm before streaking from it with a hiss. It struck Mercy in the chest blasting her from her feet and she disappeared back beneath the long grass. There was a pop and a puff of smoke wafted into the air, she didn’t get up.

  Marron flicked her knife, violently whipping it through the air to bury itself deep into the man’s shoulder. She missed her mark, it was not the killing blow she’d aimed for but still it should slow him.

  Sand turned to face her. “Ouch,”

  Reaching a hand up and over his shoulder he managed to grip the knife hilt. With a wet sucking sound he drew it out, his face stony and unflinching. Stepping towards Marron his eyes clouded, swirling like blood drops in water changing hue from blue to black.

  Marron dropped back a step; she had thrown her only weapon, a calculated gamble that hadn’t paid off. No, not her only weapon, she was a weapon. Her old weapons master had drilled that into her. It was a long time ago but with Nihm helpless behind her she had no choice. Resolve hardening, she suppressed the stab of fear she felt as her adrenaline surged.

  Sand moved in, his arm arcing through the air looking to bury the knife into her chest. He was fast, Marron barely managing to step out and to the side blocking his arm, pushing his strike wide and sending him off balance. Only it didn’t.

  His arm stopped as it flashed by and with a grunt of effort Sand back handed her, the butt of the knife slamming into her forehead.

  Head rocking, Marron stumbled back barely managing to stay on her feet. Her head erupted as the mantra used earlier to keep the spikes of pain at bay collapsed. Shrieking in agony, sight dimming, she almost blacked out.

  Then he was there, stepping in to hold her close, stopping her from falling. She found she couldn’t breathe and gasped for air. His face was close to hers, his breath sweet and rotten as she gasped it down.

  Sand released her suddenly, stepping away. He twisted his head violently to the side and his neck cricked and popped. Smiling at her he raked his blonde hair back over his head.

  “Now look what you made me do,” he said, black eyes swirling, slowly clearing back to blue. “Still at least you got your knife back.”

  Marron struggled to breath, her chest was tight and there was an ache like a leaden weight pressing in just below her collar bone. Looking down she saw her knife, bizarrely, was sticking out of her.

  Moaning she drew a painful rasping breath. The metallic taste of blood was in her mouth, strong acrid mixing with the thick decay she’d inhaled from him. Wheezing she wobbled on her feet, not sure how she was still upright. As if with that thought she staggered suddenly and lost her balance.

  “Oh no, no, no, no,” Sand cried lurching towards her, grasping.

  As Marron stumbled back the ground suddenly disappeared beneath her and she was falling. With a splash she slapped into the waters of the Oust and disappeared beneath them. It was shockingly cold and it seemed an age that she was under, water flooding her mouth as what little breath she held trickled out of her.

  Her head broke the surface and she gasped, choking, spitting water and blood. She could feel herself slipping away as she bobbed on the surface, could feel the water pulling on her, trying to drag her down as she drifted out in the grip of the current.

  Marron felt her eyes closing and lungs seizing as she swallowed blood. She strained for air; it was her whole focus, just one more breath. There was a distant roaring from the river bank and she turned, peering myopically through half closed eyelids.

  The man called Sand stood on the bank facing away from the river. His hand was raised, energy pooling in it when he was suddenly engulfed in a huge ball of flame. The last image before her eyes closed was the arching flare of his body as it was hurled like a fireball far out into the river.

  Her last thought was of Nihm, she lived at least. She would be all right. Nihmrodel look after her she prayed as her mind faded to black and the dark waters closed around her.

  Chapter 58

  : Aftermath

  Morten lay writhing on the ground, deafened and blinded by the stranger's magic. Pain lanced through his head, crippling him. Was it his imagination then, when he felt a faint pulse wash over him? Morten wasn’t sure what it was, but afterwards his mind cleared and the pain receded.

  Fear threatened to overwhelm him then as his mind and senses returned. He didn’t know what had just happened.

  Moaning he rolled onto his side, head shrieking in protest at the motion. With his eyes struggling to focus and his ears ringing uncertainty took hold. Would he feel a blade slide into his body or slit his throat?

  He heard a sudden fizz as something passed over his head, the sound loud enough to overlay the ringing in his ears. Then there was a smell of burning. He sniffed, but couldn’t place it.

  There were sounds of a scuffle behind, then talking that he could barely make out. His thoughts turned to Marron and Nihm. Were they lying like him helpless on the ground? It drove him to action. He rolled onto his front and pushed up onto his knees. Senses clearing he heard the man cry out. “Oh no, no, no, no,” followed moments later by a loud splash.

  Morten crawled the short distance to Nihm, his hand closing on the wooden staff she used as a crutch, his staff. Snatching it up and using it for support he staggered to his feet. The man had his back to him staring down at the river.

  Morten couldn’t see Marron anywhere but Nihm was flat on her back, eyes so wide the whites were showing. She looked wild. His heart lurched with guilt. Even helpless, she looked fierce; showing not an ounce of the fear that coursed through his veins. There was a sudden roar from behind, as of a fire when spirits are thrown on it and turning groggily Morten looked back.

  “Drop Mort,” Mercy shouted. She had unlimbered her staff, her face dark with soot. The leather body armour she lovingly rubbed and ministered to every night was burnt and blackened and Morten thought it flickered with a faint blue nimbus.

  The air rushed past him roaring towards Mercy coalescing around her. In her free hand a ball of flame manifested crackling and wild.

>   Realisation hit him about the same time her words registered and he threw himself to the ground. As his body thumped down next to Nihm an intense heat washed over him. Morten looked up just in time to see the stranger scream as he was engulfed in flame and blasted from his feet to fly a good forty paces out into the river.

  Gingerly, Morten clambered to his feet and looked about. Mercy had disappeared, collapsed he thought in the meadow grass. The body of a dog lay nearby, it was Thunder he couldn’t see the other dogs. Marron was gone, nowhere to be seen whilst Nihm still lay at his feet helpless. Fear and uncertainty assailed him.

  There was a rustle of grass and Ash and Snow suddenly appeared. They looked unharmed and padded over to Thunder's body. Sniffing and whining they pawed at him but there was no life there. They moved to Nihm nudging their noses at her and Morten realised she was sobbing quietly, tears tracking down her face.

  Nihm suddenly flung an arm over Ash’s back grabbing a handful of his ruff. Ash stood silent seeming to understand what she needed as Nihm pulled herself up onto her knees. Nihm’s face was dirty apart from two clean tear tracks that ran from her eyes to her ears from where she had cried.

  “Sctik,” she demanded holding her hand out. Morten passed her the staff and turned away. His brain was clearing and his reasoning was coming back. Nihm, while distressed was alright. He had to find Marron and Mercy, had to help if he could.

  Nihm grunted at him loudly. “Moron.”

  It took Morten a moment to realise she meant Marron. Nihm hobbled dangerously close to the river bank. Morten’s heart quickened and he hurried towards her just as his mind kicked in. Filtering what had happened he recalled the splash he’d heard and knew then where Marron was.

  Rushing to Nihm’s side Morten stared out over the water. His eyesight was still hazy and the dipping sun glinting off the water dazzled his already sore eyes sending ripples of pain through his head again.