Reality's Plaything

by Will Greenway

  Sarai stood with his urging. She wobbled at first but got better quickly, and increased her speed by stages.

  “Okay?”

  Her eyes were wide. “I don’t feel weak anymore. It’s as if I’m not running at all.” She leaped across a stream and bounded over some fallen trees. If Bannor weren’t traveling astrally, he would never have kept up.

  They heard the demon bellow behind them. Sarai glanced back and her lip quivered. The throbbing between Bannor’s eyes grew stronger. His heart beat erratically.

  “Little Star, I must leave soon. I’ve expended too much energy.”

  She slid to stop, face turning ashen. “I have to fight it alone?”

  Spasms wracked him and he groaned. “There’s nothing I can do. I’ll bring help as fast as I can.”

  A shudder went through Sarai. Her glowing eyes searched where his face should be. “Which way should I go?” Fighting the tremors rushing through him, he pressed against her. She felt feverishly warm. “We’re camped at the fork in the Sepacawchee valley.”

  “I know the place.” He heard the stress in her voice. She studied the sky obviously trying to get her bearing from the stars. This was a frightening situation, and he was proud of the way Sarai controlled herself.

  The stars were difficult to make out through the mists and broken cloud cover. Sarai went to a nearby tree and oriented to north. “That way, correct?” She pointed.

  “Yes. We’ll be coming the opposite direction. The ford at Branager’s river is midway. Stay in the trees.”

  Sarai took a breath. “I have no weapons, armor—nothing. That’s four leagues through orc land.”

  She didn’t have to mention that the demon would be chasing her, too.

  “You’re strong now. Wren and Irodee will know how to fight it.” Another wave of pain wracked through him. “I can’t stay any longer.” He kissed her and ran a hand through her silvery blonde hair.

  Sarai hugged him with rib cracking force. “My One, you test me—”

  “You can do it.” He kissed her again, stiffening as the pain nearly doubled him over. “Tomorrow at the ford,” he forced out.

  Tears ran down her face. “The ford.”

  He shot away toward his body. Bannor watched Sarai until she shrank beyond recognition. He ached at the thought of leaving his beloved alone to escape the demon. What other choice did he have?

  The icy wind whipping in his face only worsened his cramps. As he approached, he realized the part of the pain was the pull of his body screaming to be reunited with its spirit.

  The details of the spice-woods grew in resolution until he appeared in the air over the flames of their campfire. He froze, stunned by what he saw. Wren and Irodee kneeled next to his body. They’d removed his tunic. Bruises and cuts marred his torso, and the skin of his arms looked crimson.

  The fire roared higher from his proximity. Wren glared at where he hovered. Her blue eyes flashed. “Don’t just float there killing yourself! Get in!”

  Bannor relented to the pull of his body. For a moment, he seemed to shoot down a tunnel. He opened his eyes and a wave of nausea gripped him.

  He rolled over on hands and knees. His world dwindled to a pinpoint. Nothing else existed save the palpitating knot of his stomach spewing bile into mouth and sinuses. The wracking spasms continued until he thought he would turn inside out.

  When the convulsions subsided he collapsed, too weak to even shudder. Agony spread through him as if he’d been dipped in acid.

  “Bannor going to be all right?”

  Wren snorted. “He’ll live. Damned woodsman, just enough brains to be dangerous. It’ll take half our healing potion to put him right for tomorrow’s run.”

  “Demon,” he groaned. “Six arms—after Sarai.”

  Irodee murmured some curse that he couldn’t make out through the pounding in his head. “Rankorhaaz?”

  Wren grabbed his chin. “Ugly green guy with a dragon’s head and bat-wings?”

  “Couldn’t fight him.” The clearing wavered.

  “Of course not, dunce. How many times did he have to hit you before you figured that out? Ishtar, you’re a mess.”

  “Irodee not like this. Rankorhaaz almost killed all of us last time.”

  “Did you hear him? His lady is alone against that demon.”

  “Gave Sarai-power. She hurt it.”

  “Power?” Wren asked, frowning. “What do you mean?” She examined his scorched hands. “Damn, this is from some sort of imbuing magic. We’re lucky to be alive. Gods, Bannor, if you knew the risk you’d be wetting your breeches. Hell, almost makes me wet myself thinking about it.” She shook her head. “Get the potions.”

  Irodee handed Wren a box from her pack. “Not like this. We may need these.”

  “Hush. You sound like my mother.”

  “Irodee is mother, want to return alive to my little girl!”

  Bannor coughed. “She has a child?”

  “Yeah, and you bet her little girl behaves too.”

  “When Laramis isn’t spoiling her.” Irodee frowned and pulled him to a sitting position.

  The movement made the pain worse and he gritted his teeth.

  “Drink.” Wren uncorked the bottle and handed it to him.

  The fluid burned all the way down. It tasted so foul his eyes watered and it made his tongue feel as if it grew fur. “Odin,” he choked, “that’s horrible!” Warmth spread through his body. The pain in one arm faded.

  “You’re lucky it’s not the stuff made with dragon whiz.”

  “Don’t joke,” Bannor snarled. “Sarai is in trouble!”

  “I hear you. You’re the one who bashed himself up.”

  “Leave me the potions then. I’ll catch up.”

  “Think, man, we need you. She won’t trust us.” Wren handed him another potion. “Hold your nose.”

  Bannor made a face, grabbed the bottle and downed it in one gulp. His throat constricted, and he gagged. The Myrmigyne scowled. “It not work too good on him.”

  Wren looked him over. “His physiology has adapted to resist the effects of magic he’s been using.”

  “My what?”

  “Never mind. This will be a fast lesson. Don’t ask questions, and we’ll get out of here fast, okay?” He nodded and she continued. “You’re blocking the potion’s magic. We’ll tell your body the potions aren’t a threat.”

  “But—”

  She smacked him on the shoulder. “Listen. Watch the pattern I draw in the dirt. Follow it with your eyes. You want that pattern in your mind.” She took a stick and wove a complex tracery in the dirt. It seemed aimless and without form. Lines converged and ran over one another.

  “There’s no sense to this.”

  “Concentrate,” she snapped. “It will help save Sarai.”

  He watched the stick wander around the ground like a bug caught in the bottom of a barrel. Moving to and fro without apparent purpose-turn, dip, jag, right, up.

  He blinked. He’d seen that design before. The glowing lines when Wren entered his mind. He bore down. After a few moments, he could anticipate the movement of the stick.

  “Yes.” A glowing line formed on a blank tablet behind his eyes.

  His skin appeared to turn gold then back to normal.

  “Good. Suck it down.” She handed him another potion.

  He made a face and gulped the horrible concoction. A bright blue glow engulfed him. His wounds glowed an eerie green. Open cuts sealed; bruises and burns returned to the color of normal skin. After a few moments, all his injuries vanished.

  “Bannor, you’re a man of startling contrasts.”

  “At least there are two potions left.” Irodee shut the box and shoved it back in the pack.

  Wren stared at Bannor and let out a breath. “We better not chance it. Irodee, give me the teleport scroll.”

  “We go home with that!”

  Her eyes stayed on his. “If Rankorhaaz gets his woman, no telling what this lunk will do. I’d rath
er not find out.” Irodee glared at Bannor.

  He didn’t refute Wren’s statement. The thought of Sarai in the hands of that creature would make him crazy. He wasn’t sure what he would do to free her.

  The Myrmigyne removed a yellowing bone scroll tube from the pack and gave it to Wren.

  “Is there a place near there that you have a clear picture of in your mind?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Hydra rock. It’s half way between Branager’s river and the pass.”

  “Get a picture of it in your mind. I’m going to touch your memory so I can take us there.”

  Bannor closed his eyes. Every hesitation could be risking Sarai’s life.

  He formed the picture of the huge outcrop of stacked boulders that looked like a many-necked dragon. Her fingers brushed his temples.

  Wren dumped out the scroll in the tube. “Grab all the stuff, you two. We’re going demon hunting.”

  * * *

  Demons are interesting little creatures.

  Take the spirit of an reptile, mammal or insect, intertwine it with a portion of a sentient creature’s soul, add a little blood and some freshly harvested flesh and you have a fascinatingly aggressive creature that hates practically everything and especially dislikes water and holy men.

  Not that I blame them, I don’t much care for holy men either.

  —From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’.

  Chapter Six

  « ^ »

  To Bannor, it took an eternity for Irodee and Wren to pack their belongings. The night mists and wintry air seemed to conspire in delaying their departure. Fingers chilled, he fumbled with straps on his weapons and pack. His heart pounded a rapid tempo against his ribs, ticking off the moments. He resisted the urge to rush the women. Both knew the danger Sarai faced and wasted no time securing the gear.

  “Ready?” Wren asked.

  Irodee nodded.

  Bannor let out a breath. “Go.” He’d never teleported. In the larger kingdoms, he’d watched royal wizards transport people to distant lands. Not once did he ever feel the desire to experience the phenomenon.

  Wren took Irodee’s arm and positioned the Myrmigyne a half step to her right, then guided him onto the left. “On our way.”

  She unfurled the scroll. In a sing-songy voice, she chanted a cadence of strange words. Runes on the vellum sparkled and faded as she read aloud. The timbre of her voice changed, resonating through the clearing. A reddish aura wavered around her, the illumination growing brighter with each word. The last symbol vanished off the page in a shout. Wren dropped the parchment and grabbed their arms. The crimson glow around her exploded.

  Bannor felt a savage wrench as if he’d been jerked backwards down a well. His empty stomach twisted. They fell through a swirling blackness then snapped back into reality again. A new landscape shimmered into view as if being painted in by some god-like artist.

  Hydra rock loomed above them, silhouetted against the gray-black night and the white-capped peaks of the Marin pass. Boulders wedged in formation gave the impression of five serpentine heads looking out in different directions. Granite fragments, scrub weeds, and stunted trees jutted from the ground in a confusion of dark shapes. He dropped to his knees as the scenery abruptly began spinning. His breath locked in his chest.

  “Odin,” he gasped.

  “A virgin? Sorry I didn’t warn you.” Wren knelt and patted him on the shoulder. “After a few trips, you’ll get accustomed.”

  Bannor groaned as a reply. He would have heaved, but nothing remained in his stomach.

  “Irodee hopes we live to get him the chance.”

  “Ever since the baby, Irodee, you’ve been positively grim. I’d think you’d relish the chance for some excitement!”

  The Myrmigyne unshouldered her bow. “Demons are too exciting for Irodee.”

  The dizziness passed by the time Irodee made a few circuits of the immediate area. Bannor stood and looked around. “Do you have a plan?”

  Wren frowned. “If accessing the situation and then improvising is a plan, yes. At best, my magic can only drive Rankorhaaz off. We just used up our best means of escape.”

  “Irodee think we should go south to Tenax. Heard there’s sorcerers there.”

  Bannor shook his head. “Tenax is a two-day run!”

  Wren pulled out her sword and headed west toward the pass. The blade cast an eerie blue radiance. “You planning on sleeping with that thing chasing you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Unless you can think of anything better, that’s our tentative plan. Come on.” She moved into to a jog, picking around rocks and brambles.

  Bannor shook his head and followed. Irodee fell in step behind. It would take more than a haphazard plan to defeat Rankorhaaz. He prayed to Odin they reached Sarai in time.

  After descending the hill and in smoother terrain, Wren spoke over her shoulder. “How far is it to where you left her?”

  “Three leagues. She’ll go south-east and turn north along Branager’s river.” He measured his breathing. An ache already gnawed inside his chest. He felt like a burned-out fire ember, so much of his energy had been poured into the battle and Sarai.

  “How fast will she be moving?”

  “Fast. She’ll have covered a league by now.”

  “I’ll need to think of a way to signal her.”

  They ran through the darkness, weaving around trees. The air was cold and damp, and smelled of needlewood. Irodee caught Bannor a few times when he staggered, keeping him moving south. As they ran, a faint acrid scent grew more pronounced.

  His heart labored and his mouth tasted like a desert. He refused to relent, forcing himself to continue. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his face, stinging his eyes and splashing on his chest.

  He wouldn’t give up and leave his mate alone with that creature. His view of the woods shrank to the bouncing, blue silhouette of Wren who ran point. He ignored the stitch in his side and concentrated solely on the piston-like action of his legs.

  It felt like an eternity before Wren halted. He’d lost track of time and distance. The trees looked fuzzy, and his heart hammered so hard his skull felt as if it expanded and contracted with each beat.

  He slumped to the ground. The world turned brown. He realized that Irodee was kneeling over him pressing two fingers to his throat.

  “Bannor, not go much farther.”

  “He doesn’t have to. I know how to signal her. Get out an arrow and shoot me.”

  Bannor strained to see Wren clearly. He didn’t have enough air to say anything. Irodee voiced his incredulity for him.

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stop it. I need the energy for this magic.”

  “You sure?”

  “Do it.” She held out her hand. “Shoot here-in case I really have lost my mind.” She closed her eyes and blue glow flooded around her body.

  Irodee fitted an arrow. Wren nodded to indicate readiness. The Myrmigyne let fly. The razor tipped shaft hissed out and hit the savant’s hand. It stopped soundlessly, giving off a flash of light. The arrow clattered to the ground. Ripples of red and green traveled up Wren’s arm.

  “Again.”

  Irodee took a breath and fired again. The shaft stopped like the first.

  “Again.”

  The glow around Wren became a red halo. She and Irodee repeated the process twice more.

  “Aim the next arrow up and toward the south.”

  Irodee complied. Wren cupped the arrow tip in her hands. The metal sparked and ripples of color flowed into it. She touched the lower part of the Irodee’s bow as the Myrmigyne swung it to aim at the sky. A sparkling nimbus surrounded the weapon.

  “Fire!”

  Irodee’s greatbow thrummed. The vibration made the trees shake. The arrow left a spiraling blue line as it shot high into the night. When it reached the apex of its arc, Wren clapped once. The arrow exploded with an ear-shocking crack that lit up the sky with a bright yellow
blossom. Tendrils of sparkling gold jetted outward and drifted down.

  Staring at the display, Bannor climbed to his feet. He didn’t have the wind to say how impressive the magic looked. The pounding in his head no longer drowned out the night sounds.

  “Pretty.” Irodee took hold of his shoulder to steady him. “Never saw this trick.”

  Wren shrugged. “Never found a use for it before this. I hope she sees it. Everything else within leagues will.” She punched Bannor on the shoulder. “Stay with us. We’ll need you. Let’s head south and fire another signal.”

  They moved at a slow jog so Bannor could keep up without over-exerting himself.

  “Stop,” Irodee ordered.

  They halted. The Myrmigyne froze, intent toward the southwest.

  Wren started to say something, but Irodee held up a hand for silence. The Myrmigyne stood so still she could have been a tree. The woman’s dark skin and hair blended in with the shadows. All Bannor saw was the glint of her narrowed eyes.

  She pointed, and then put a hand to her ear.

  Bannor strained to detect what Irodee heard. After a moment, he detected a barely audible roar. It came from more than half a league away.

  “That’s Rankorhaaz for sure,” Wren said. “Good guess on the distance, Bannor.” She looked around then pointed to a hill some thousand paces off. “We’ll head to that high ground and send up another signal.”

  “Won’t that bring Rankorhaaz?” Bannor asked.

  Wren sighed. “Better us than your girlfriend, right?”

  “Not if you ask Irodee,” the Myrmigyne grumbled.

  The savant shook her head. “Don’t sound so enthused. I might start to worry. Come on.” She headed toward the rise.

  Even though Wren spoke flippantly, Bannor detected the tension she tried to hide. This would be a dangerous confrontation, one she wasn’t fully prepared to deal with.

  The only solace he could take from the situation was that Sarai had not yet been captured. Why else would Rankorhaaz still be screaming, if it weren’t out of frustration?

  They weaved up a tree and rock-studded blackhorn path. To the east Bannor saw the glint of Branager’s river in a patch of moonlight coming through a break in the clouds. The exhaustion in his body turned to numbness, and he found the extra reserves to push faster. The rocky summit of the hill hove closer, covered only by a stippling of scraggly bushes. The acrid odor he detected earlier grew stronger.