The Sword and the Dragon wt-1

by Michael Robb Mathias

  He’s gone mad, Hyden thought.

  “That’s no hellcat, Mik!” Vaegon yelled, as he dashed to Mikahl’s side with his pike-like bladed weapon held high.

  “Just stay clear of my sword, elf!” Mikahl snarled.

  Vaegon saw the look in Mikahl’s eyes, and took a healthy step backwards. The memory of the Westlander’s dexterous and acrobatic skill with the blade caused him to take a few more.

  This time, the Choska came down and landed hard. Its heavy body forced Mikahl to roll away or be crushed. Vaegon managed to thrust up into the things chest, and black blood spilled over him from the wound. It seemed no more than a thorn prick to the angry demon. The elf stabbed up again, but was knocked away this time by a defending claw.

  From beside Hyden, the woman raised her hands from her reins and sent another streaking yellow blast of lightning at the Choska. The demon took the assault with a breathy grunt, and then sent out its own magical blast in response. Its cinder-red eyes flared brightly, and a crimson fist of energy shot forth from them, sending the woman, head over heels, clear out of her saddle. She landed hard in the dense thicket at the tree line, and instantly, the two armored riders charged their mounts in, to form a protective barrier between her and the creature.

  The remaining ranger was in the trees now, still loosing his arrows futilely at the demon. Hyden was firing with his bow too, but his arrows were now aimed at the horn helmed warrior instead of the beast. One of his arrows struck Roark in the heart, and he expected the big warrior to fall, but he didn’t. Instead, the dark knight leapt from the Choska’s back, and landed a few feet in front of Mikahl. The Choska moved between the archers and its rider, thus cutting off Hyden’s view of them. He knew Vaegon was over there somewhere too, but didn’t have any more time to think about it, as the Choska turned its attention on him.

  The sound of one of the wolves attacking, erupted viciously from behind the Choska. Another flash of white fur, streaked heavily with crimson, darted through the trees nearby.

  As Mikahl rolled to his feet, Roark attacked him with all his might and skill. The undead warrior was bigger and stronger, and fueled by hellish intent; but Mikahl was quicker, and smarter. They were evenly matched, and the battle that ensued wasn’t over quickly.

  Grrr started to leap on the horned man attacking his two legged friend, but Mikahl’s savage, and unpredictable quickness, kept him from it. Seeing Oof and Huffa bound toward the Choska demon’s unprotected flank, and tear into it, Grrr decided to join them instead.

  White fangs tore into dark, foul tasting meat, while heavy steel crashed against Mikahl’s magical blade, in a shower of sparks, and humming power. Each of the swordsmen pressed, but was met with a cunning misdirecting defense, or bone-jarring solidity. Blow after blow was thrown, sweeping arcs of radiant sapphire, and glimmering steel. Lunge, parry, and thrust, as sparks and spittle flew through the air.

  In Mikahl’s head, Ironspike’s symphony was there, but it was barely audible. Even if it had been stronger, Mikahl wasn’t sure how to use the sword’s power. He didn’t have time to ponder the matter either, it was all he could do to use his natural skill to avoid Roark’s heavy handed blade.

  He feigned a turn one way, and then spun the other. The shining silver of Roark’s blade followed the misdirection, but the undead man’s strength was enough to recover, and block Mikahl’s thrust. Twist and duck, Mikahl’s mind screamed as Roark brought his steel back around. Mikahl came up behind the stroke, and swung his sword wildly into the bigger man’s blade, adding to its momentum as it carried on around. It was then, that Mikahl finally saw an opening, and went for it.

  As Roark went spinning around off his balance, Mikahl jabbed Ironspike into the unprotected area behind the bigger man’s knee. Mikahl was stunned when it didn’t drop the man. He had barely pulled the blade free of Roark’s rotting flesh, when the undead warrior’s sword finished its revolution, and came slashing across his rib cage. It sliced with ferocious force, splitting the little rings of Mikahl’s chain mail, and biting hotly into his flesh.

  Not knowing what else to do, Mikahl reached up, and yanked at the stub of the arrow protruding from Roark’s chest. The lack of reaction from the assault sent waves of panic through him. He noticed too, that Ironspike’s symphony of power had faded completely from his ears. He brought his sword up just in time to deflect an overhead blow, which would have split him in two. As it was, the blow forced Ironspike down so hard, that its failing blue blade bit into his own forearm deeply enough to hit bone. He tried to spin free of the horn-helmed warrior, but Roark was too strong for him. Mikahl’s side burned, and he could feel the warm liquid life running down over his thigh, under his leather britches. For the first time, since he had drawn Ironspike against Duke Fairchild back in the Reyhall Forest, Mikahl’s confidence began to falter.

  On the other side of the camp, Urp had managed to sink his teeth into the demon-beast’s foreleg, and was holding on for all he was worth. Like a terrier shaking a rat, the Choska kicked and whipped its clawed limb around, trying to sling the wolf free.

  Hyden loosed at the demon’s head, hoping to get an arrow into one of those fist-sized, ember-colored eyes. He missed, but his shaft shot into the beast’s nostril, causing it to rear up and scream out that terrible shriek again. A deep, red pulse flared from the Choska’s eyes, and Hyden was hammered by a powerful concussive blast that sent him cart-wheeling into the trees. He came to an abrupt halt against the trunk of an unyielding oak. In the darkening haze that followed, Hyden’s only thought was that he no longer held the elven longbow Vaegon had gifted him. After that, there was only blackness.

  Vaegon rolled to his feet, and saw the horn-helmed warrior bearing down on Mikahl. Like a fleeing deer, he darted through the forest, and circled around them until he had gained Roark’s undefended rear. Mikahl, bloody and grimacing, looked to be about to crumble under the pressing onslaught of the warrior. Mikahl was on his knees, using his forearm to block the press of his own sword, and his whole right side was wet and slick with blood.

  Vaegon let his outrage strengthen him and charged forth. He thrust the serrated blade of his pike into Roark’s back with all the strength he could muster. Mikahl felt the surge of Vaegon’s attack jar his raw, exposed arm bone. The front of Roark’s breastplate dented outward from the savage force of the elf’s pike tip. Mikahl instantly felt the huge warrior’s strength ebb, but when he looked up, the red-eyed, undead face showed not the slightest bit of fear or pain. Roark didn’t as much as wince when Vaegon violently jerked the pike blade out of him. When the serrated teeth of Vaegon’s weapon caught on flesh and steel, he did stagger back a step. In that instant, and in a state of utter panic, Mikahl spun out from under Roark and attacked. He brought Ironspike around in a sweeping arc, aiming at the neck. Roark saw the stroke coming, and brought up a steal clad arm to deflect the blow. Had he been a fraction quicker, or had luck been on his side, he might have fully thwarted the pale blue blade. He managed to knock to the swing off course, but not far enough off. Ironspike hit Roark’s head just under the ear, at the jaw. The horned helmet did little to stop the sword. The warrior’s head would have been severed completely, had his armor not tipped the blade up. It didn’t matter though. Roark’s head, though still attached to his body, fell over, at a crazy angle, and hung there. The lower jaw was still attached to his neck, but the rest of the mass hung grotesquely canted. A hard boot from Vaegon, sent the huge warrior tumbling over, and one of the wolves peeled away from the Choska demon’s flank, to worry the head the rest of the way off of the still twitching body.

  Mikahl turned towards the Choska. It was reared up and screeching loudly, but facing the others, not him. He surged to his feet, and took two running strides, but it sent icy shocks of pain tearing through his side. He ignored the pain, and drove Ironspike into the demon’s flank, up to its jeweled hilt. For the briefest of moments, he felt his swords magic trying to draw out the demon’s life force, but it just wasn’t strong e
nough. Had it been, the fight would have been over. The demon’s essence would have been trapped in the blade, like so many others had been before it.

  It wasn’t to be though. Ironspike had exhausted all of its magical power, and Mikahl found that he was in serious trouble. He yanked the sword free, but not before the raging Choska spun, and slung him. Mikahl didn’t let go of his sword. He couldn’t let go, no matter what happened next. Loudin had held on, and so would he. He didn’t even let go to use his hands to cushion his tumbling fall.

  Urp’s toothy grip broke free of the Choska’s fore leg, and the wolf went slinging away, just as Mikahl had, only Urp didn’t land before crashing into the forest.

  Mikahl came down hard on his injured side, but managed to roll with the impact. He ended up on his back, with no air in his lungs whatsoever. He saw the Choska demon’s slavering yellowed teeth coming down at him and tried to scoot away. Hot pain shot through him, from the bottom of his feet up to the base of his skull, as if his nerves and tendons were white hot wires. He was barely able to keep his grip on Ironspike’s hilt. His back was broken, he was sure of it. Even with all of the pain, his legs should have moved, but they didn’t. Terror chilled his blood. All he could do was look on helplessly as those dagger sharp teeth came gnashing down for him.

  Vaegon charged, seeing the terrible fate that was about to befall his young kingdom-born friend. Even as he did so, he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to get between the demon and Mikahl. Stopping in mid-stride, he launched his weapon at the Choska demon’s head as if it were a javelin. At the same moment, a flash of white fur leapt onto Mikahl and Grrr’s growl erupted into a peel of savage barking. It all ended with a wet, sickening crunch. Then, from beyond the demon’s bulk, a skittering, crackling boom concussed through the whole forest like a thunderclap.

  The trees, the ground, and even the air, shimmered for a moment, like an expanding ring of desert heat exploding outward.

  Vaegon fell to his knees, and in the mind-numbing silence that followed the blast, he saw the Choska demon’s body twist crazily up and over his head. Its great bulk had been blown like a leaf off of the forest floor by the force of what ever had made that sound. The beast didn’t crash into the forest though. It threw out its leathery wings crazily, as it whirled over the treetops, and caught the air. With long, ropey strands of thick, black blood slinging away from its body, it righted itself, and winged away westward.

  Vaegon ran to Mikahl’s side. He was lying twisted at a sickening angle, his thigh bone jutting up out of torn and punctured flesh. Mikahl rolled his head to one side and made a deep growling sound. He focused on something. Tears then welled, and spilled out of his eyes, just before they rolled up into his head. Vaegon couldn’t help but turn to see what Mikahl had been looking at.

  There, on the ground lay Grrr, the pack leader of King Aldar’s great wolves. He was a bloody heap of mangled fur, still and lifeless, eyes open and empty. Huffa whined sadly, and sniffed at her mate’s unresponsive body. Oof whimpered as well, then suddenly looked up, and started searching for Urp. Urp was limping slowly over towards them, his fur a tangle of leaves, and debris, his maw bright with crimson gore.

  Vaegon glanced around frantically, looking for Hyden Hawk. He spotted him, half in, half out of the forest, looking with wide-eyed bewilderment at where the Choska had just been. He was down on one knee. His right arm was outstretched, and his hand was open, as if he had just thrown something at the beast.

  The well-armored lady wasn’t far away. She was staring up at Hyden, with a look of shock on her dusty face. She was ruffled, and had twigs and leaves in her hair, but otherwise seemed fine. She shrugged off the help of her plate armored soldiers, and with a look of disgust at them, strode over towards Vaegon.

  Seeing that Hyden Hawk was alive, the elf forced everything else out of his mind, and began using his magic to tend to Mikahl’s wounds. A moment later, he raised his head back, and let out a horrible, keening wail.

  Mikahl had serious internal damage, more than even he could begin to heal. All he could do was what he had done. He stopped the bleeding, and put Pavreal’s last heir into a form of stasis that might, or might not, keep him alive a little while longer.

  “Will he live?” The woman asked, with sincere concern showing plainly on her face. “There are extraordinary healers in Xwarda, if we can get him there.”

  “How far?” Vaegon asked, with a glint of hope forcing its way through his anguish. His head felt like there was a hive of bees swarming in it, and his ears most likely had permanent damage from the Choska’s horrible scream, but he ignored his pain, and looked at the woman, waiting intensely for her answer.

  “If he can ride, we can make it by dawn, I think.”

  Vaegon closed his yellow eye a moment, and fingered the patch over the empty socket of the other. He doubted that the stasis spell he had cast to keep Mikahl alive would last that long. After a few deep breaths, he looked around, and stopped his gaze on Huffa. She was licking at Grrr’s unresponsive muzzle lovingly. It was obvious that she knew he was dead – it showed in her posture. It only made the sight that much harder to look upon. Her eyes met Vaegon’s gaze, and the elf could feel her sorrow. He could also sense the pride she felt in knowing that her mate had died trying to save another. An idea struck him then, and he looked back up at the Lady.

  “If you can ride a wolf, then you can have him there by nightfall!” His inner ears hurt horribly, and his sudden excitement was intensifying the sensation. “I assume you can get him to these healers quickly once you get there?”

  She nodded, and glanced at Oof for a moment, then nodded again, though with a lot less confidence about her.

  Vaegon looked towards Hyden, who was struggling to get to his feet.

  “Will you help my friend?” he asked her. “I need him over here.”

  Without another word, she went to help Hyden.

  As soon as she had moved away, Vaegon gingerly straightened out Mikahl’s broken leg, and did his best to magically knit the bone back together. It was all he had the strength left to do, and he couldn’t even do a good job of it. The flesh wound there was deep, and uneven. He reverted to a more primitive form of healing, tore strips of cloth from his sleeves, and then bound them around Mikahl’s thigh. There was nothing he could do for the internal injuries. After trying to help the fallen ranger earlier, and what he had just done for Mikahl, he was drained completely. He hoped beyond hope, that he had done enough to keep Mikahl alive, until he could get better care.

  Talon and Hyden fell to the ground at Grrr’s side at the same moment.

  “Oh, by the Goddess, no!” Hyden cried out, as he clutched his arms around the great wolf he had come to love.

  Talon let out a mewling coo of sorrow. Through the dead wolf’s fur, and his own unashamed sobs, Hyden asked Vaegon about Mikahl.

  Vaegon explained to him that if Mikahl didn’t get to the healers in Xwarda quickly, he was as good as dead. He explained his idea, and Hyden listened intently. When Vaegon was done, Hyden grabbed Huffa around her neck and hugged her close, while whispering desperately into her ear. She let out a rolling yelp of concern when he was done.

  “Yes, we’ll look after him,” Hyden replied, speaking of the injured wolf, Urp.

  Vaegon began re-rigging the pack harness that had been used to strap their supplies to Urp’s back during their long journey. Huffa yipped, nuzzled, and waggled at Oof’s side, then pranced over to Vaegon, and stood proud and still for the elf.

  While Vaegon rigged Mikahl’s body to Huffa’s back, the lady ordered her men to gather the horses. The two armored soldiers, who had stood guard over her instead of helping to fight the Choska and its rider, threw the fallen ranger’s body over the lady’s horse as if it were a sack of grain. They were none too pleased to learn that, as punishment for their inaction, they would be walking back to Xwarda. It was clear that the woman held rank over these men. They turned over their horses, without a word of complaint, so that Hyde
n and Vaegon could ride them. The other Ranger, whose name was Drick, was to lead them to Xwarda.

  Hyden wondered who this brave woman was, as she mounted Oof’s back with only a minimal pause. It was just moments, after she and Mikahl’s limp body were racing away on the wolf’s back, that he realized that she might be after Mikahl’s sword too. A flash of panic swept over him, and he looked to Vaegon. The elf was sheathing Ironspike, and securing it to his saddle. This came as a comfort, all be it a slight one. If Mikahl lived, Hyden wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to tell him that they had lost the sword.

  Hyden wished he wasn’t so slow and dazed at the moment. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, and his head felt as if it were full of mud. He had done something out of sheer desperation, and had repeated the word he had heard the lady say as she released one of her lighting blasts. The explosion of power that had resulted from the word he used had been the concussion that had sent the Choska twisting up, and away from them. He had used magic, and now he was paying the price for it. His mind was a jumble of sorrow and confusion, and he couldn’t hold a thought. He was sure that a moment ago, he had been alarmed, or excited by something, but now he had no idea of what it might have been.

  Drick urged them to get onto the horses. After riding on a wolf’s back for days and days, the saddles looked relatively comfortable.

  As he swung a leg over the horse’s rump and settled into his seat, Vaegon asked the ranger a question, reminding Hyden of what it was that had alarmed him.

  “Who is that woman?”

  The ranger looked at the elf, and unease spread across his face as he took in Vaegon’s wildness.