by PMF Johnson
The Preacher knocked Deeb down. Mara loosed a fireball at Rock, then another in rapid succession at the Preacher. The latter enveloped the top portion of the Preacher's body. He collapsed to the ground -- the stench of burnt flesh rolling out across the clearing.
Rock leapt onto his horse and fled.
Through it all, Shef kept his horse motionless, showing no hostile intent.
Arch emerged from the brush. "Get out of here," he snarled. He was furious, feeling betrayed. Despite their earlier conversation, Shef had not departed.
"I wasn't part of this," Shef said. "This was them."
Carefully, he turned his horse and guided it away at a walk.
Galle stared at the dead body in the grass, his face showing his shock. Deeb went to his wife, took her in his arms. They clung to each other.
"I was so stiff, I was barely able to do a thing," he apologized. "Get my horse to move was about all."
"And that was enough to unsettle them," Arch said. "Gave us a chance."
They were all still experiencing the roiling emotions of the fight, the unnatural confidence, determination and cruelty. Slowly the feelings slipped away, leaving a sort of unsettled horror.
Mara turned to the body of the Preacher. "Can he...is...I didn't...?"
Her voice trailed away, an awful look on her face. She put her face against her husband's chest, hiding her eyes.
Arch went over, but there was nothing anyone could do. "The man's gone," he said.
He spoke to Mara. "You saved your husband. Helped save us all, with that."
Then he looked to where Dunshil had fallen, but no trace remained of the goblen. The whirligigs hovered in the air over the spot where her body fell, their silvered bodies shining a bit more brightly.
Deeb turned his wife away. "We're going home to the cabin," he said.
Chapter Twenty One
A week after the fight, Deeb finished breaking ground for planting on the bench of land above the water. He intended to continue plowing the bottomland across the river as well, calculating how much he could get planted and harvested in the growing season here. He knew so little about farming, he should stay conservative. Arch had given him a few tips, which helped, and the man had also been showing Galle how to mix oil, deer blood and straw to make a solid, strong floor for the cabin. Mara had made them all bear claws, a sweet pastry.
Galle was learning to use his sensitivity to the land to help with catching fish and hunting. He was off with his whirligigs now, hunting another deer or elk for meat and blood for the floor. The day was warm, a few clouds drifting through the sky.
None of them felt much like jabbering these days -- the shock of the violence had quieted them. Arch had returned to the bald knob area and dug graves for the Preacher and Kin Re -- then said a few words over their bodies.
After that he went off to hunt any sign of Rock or the others.
#
In a natural campsite near the caravan route, halfway to Plover, Shef stooped down to build a fire. Ulf had gone hunting for something to fill their pot. Shef had always enjoyed the simple tasks like this, and he felt the need for a little time to himself, to reassess.
After that last bit of action, he was realizing he was not happy with his situation. His kinfolk had always lived the free life and he was as swift with a spell as anyone, but somehow this life of always moving on, never able to settle anywhere, was starting to gall him.
When he told this to Ulf, his brother had been instantly scornful. "What else you gonna do, go join an army somewhere, a hireling war mage? You know how constrictin' that life is, and how young those people die?"
But something had changed between Shef and his brother. A thread had snapped. Shef was not going to go along with Ulf just to make his brother happy anymore.
"Not a mage at all," Shef had said. "Go find a job someplace."
"Be a peasant? Those people got a hard life."
Shef felt as though he were entirely remote from his old self. "Like we don't? I think I'd like to try it a while. Might like it."
"You're goin' settled," Ulf said scornfully, but Shef just nodded.
"Guess I am," he had said. That had felt good.
Now riders were coming up the trail from the caravan route -- Shef stood up. Ulf was coming up the trail, but Rock was alongside him.
Rock's clothes were muddy and scorched, his face was blistered, the feathers on his wings scorched.
"You're lucky that fireball missed you," Shef said.
"Lucky like flames," Rock said. "Didn't notice you helping out any."
"Nothing those folks had that I wanted," Shef said, calmly. "The woman was your issue, not mine. They didn't have any money or goods worth grabbing. Didn't see any cause to go after her, myself."
"What are you saying?" Rock snarled.
"Only I ain't interested in attacking a woman. Didn't see no reason to die over her. They didn't have any wealth, same as I'd been sayin' all along."
"You know, a person could think you were back-mouthin' me," Rock said.
Ulf broke in. "You know what gripes me, that guy sayin' his woman ran off with Arch Compher. He's a liar is what he is."
"Mebbe he really thought so," Shef said. His brother had always fixated on trivial things. He saw that about his brother clearly now.
"Huh." Ulf seemed unconvinced. "The other thing, I never saw the Owl. Thought he was going to take the chance to come up on them from behind. He never did."
Ulf's left eye was twitching, more and more quickly. Blink. Pause. Blink. Blink. Blink. Like it always did before he struck out, killed something.
He was lost in his hate, Shef thought. Shef himself felt a mix of nervous and numb.
"I'm going back after them," Rock said.
Shef shook his head. "Not me. That was enough to convince me to leave it."
The fire was burning good now. It was well-made. Shef knew that, as he knew this was not going to end well. Rock was too enraged, too humiliated. He had to take it out on someone. It was the nature of a man like Rock.
"Can't tell you all the fights I been in," Shef said, musing to himself. He felt the excitement rising, the nervousness. "I've always fought back."
Would Ulf join him in this fight?
"Didn't see you even willing to fight that woman, back there. Man would think you was a coward." Rock came around to face him directly.
Shef rose to his feet and confronted the man. The face-down had come, and honestly he welcomed it. This trouble had been hanging over him too long.
Freed of caution, he sneered at Rock. "Not a coward. Just not interested in molesting women. A woman who made you chicken out, by the way. That's how she sees you now, a coward, runnin' away. Not that you could make her love you by doin' hateful things. How backwards is that? Did you even notice she ain't interested in you? Did that get through those thick feathers into your fat head? As though any woman would love such a self-centered, arrogant--"
Rock's brow furrowed, and Shef, jangly with nerves, took a split instant to realize the elven was speaking the phrase that prepared his will magic.
Shef yanked his staff up to point at Rock, and uttered the only two words he needed. He moved fast, very fast -- he was all nerves, on edge.
Fatally on edge.
Flipping up the staff, he was too quick. By the time his spell fired, the staff was pointed just high. The fire seed shot over his enemy's shoulder and flew off, exploding harmlessly in the air.
He never triggered a second spell. Rock cast his will out, cold and calculating. The blue ball of magic struck Shef in the chest, and locked down his body, freezing him in place.
Shef was held, helpless.
His eyes tracked Rock as the elven slowly drew his knife, mockingly, and took his time testing its edge. Shef's eyes sought in desperation for his brother. But Shef was pointed the wrong direction. He could not see Ulf.
Would his brother help him? He must. They were brothers!
Rock stepped forward, put t
he blade against Shef's throat, hesitated, moved his face close and said, "Goodbye, mortal."
He slashed Shef's throat, side to side.
Shef fell, choking, drowning in his own blood.
Rock watched in icy satisfaction and triumph until Shef's body quit twitching.
He turned to Ulf, who was calmly pouring water from his canteen into a pot to make coffee.
Ulf spoke without rancor. "Strange how Shef was kin, but never my kind. We didn't much ever care for one another."
Rock turned away without comment.
Ulf kept talking, not looking at his brother's body. "Be quieter without him. He was always talking. Always a talker, that one."
His left eye slowly quit twitching, as though some need had been fulfilled.
"He didn't ever intend to return for those folks," Rock said. "I do. That woman firing flames at me...this ain't about children no more. No, I'm gonna put her over a fire. Burn her toes first, then just let the fire burn upward. Roast her piece by piece. Show her who she's dealin' with."
He took out a piece of jerky and tore off a chunk with his teeth. "You gonna come with me, Ulf?"
"I wouldn't miss it," Ulf said. "You gonna show me some of that will magic, after?"
"Everything you need to learn," Rock promised. He went over and took up Shef's staff.
Ulf never said a word.
#
The next day, Galle went out hunting mushrooms and greens for the pot. The sun was halfway up the sky when Deeb paused at his work turning soil. He had turned several furrows already -- the plow sliding easily through the virgin soil. Lok protected Mara back at the cabin -- Deeb had only his bow here, and a spear he had been working on, but he was happy this morning.
Arch told him how much time he could expect before a frost, and Deeb calculated they could gather a harvest in that time. With good hunting and wild roots to gather, they should be all right.
He thought about the money he had, and believed it might be a good idea to buy a few goats. They were cheap, and might supply milk, even hair for clothes. Arch said there was a shortage of meat in Plover, so there would be a demand.
Deeb walked back to the cabin for noon meal. Arch was there, whittling a piece of wood into a door latch.
"Don't you have the good life," Deeb said, admiring the man a moment.
"No family to feed," Arch grinned. "There's a good side to that too, you see. Still, I admit I like the cooking here, and it's a long ways to anywhere I might find the equal."
"We truly appreciate all you've done for us," Deeb said, "but honestly I'd have thought you'd be off on your own projects by now."
Honestly, it wasn't fair, him hinting Arch should go -- he was just annoyed the man got to spend his ease like this when Deeb had so much work.
"Thing is," Arch said. "You need to keep your bow strung, and right close." A certain intensity crept into his voice.
Disturbed, Deeb looked at him. "What is it?"
"Saw some sign. We got company about."
"That Owl fellow?"
"Mebbe. You stay ready for trouble, Parten. I don't think it's just the one of them. That bunch was hard and cruel just for the sake of being cruel. Don't know that they've quit even yet."
Deeb poured water into a basin to wash up. He chewed over this. "Which explains you still being here?"
"Oh, I'd attribute that to the fine food you folks provide."
"Yes," said Deeb. "My wife is a fine cook. And I'm very grateful for her."
He faced Arch, who shook his head and shrugged a bit wistfully. "I can see why. A fine woman."
Deeb having finished washing up, Arch moved to the basin. As he did, Galle appeared.
"In the woods," Galle said quietly. "There's a man. He's one of them."
Arch acted as though he heard nothing, but he wiped his hands, then took up his staff. The moment it was in his hands he called out the preparatory word and turned swiftly to foil the ambush.
Ulf was there, just raising his own staff.
Aiming from his hip, Arch triggered his spell. The fire seed sped true, striking Ulf in the belly. It exploded, engulfing the man in flames.
Continuing his turn, Arch came around to face directly behind himself, dropping to one knee as he did, while calling out the word to prepare another spell.
Sure enough, Rock was just emerging from the woods behind him. Arch's staff pointed straight at his chest. Rock froze in place, caught off guard when his ambush failed.
"You caught me," Rock said. "So, you gonna burn me?"
"Just getting a gander at you, Rock. At the tough guy who fights women and children. Kind of a sorry view, I got to say."
"Easy words when you got a spell set to trigger on a man."
"You want to show off your will magic, prove how strong you are?" Arch said.
"Arch," Mara cried out. "Don't do it!"
But Arch lifted his staff so it pointed at the sky. "Let's see you hold me."
With a howl of triumph, Rock triggered his own spell, locking Arch in place, paralyzing him with the force of Rock's will. Their eyes locked.
Except...slowly, deliberately, Arch's staff began to lower.
"No," snarled Rock in disbelief. "I can take you, Compher. I CAN. You're dead. Stop, burn you!"
He was sweating freely, trying to hold his spell on Arch.
Arch's staff slowly inched lower, pushing aside Rock's will, bull strength against bull strength, mortal against immortal, until the staff pointed straight at Rock's face.
Arch whispered a word. His staff fired. The seed shot out and exploded, engulfing Rock.
Rock fell to his knees. His wings caught much of that blast, but he was still a smoking, blackened hulk.
"No one...ever..." He began to lift his own staff, pilfered from Shef.
Arch fired again, blasting Rock with a smaller fireball. But Rock continued to line up his staff. "Never..."
Arch fired again and again, blast after blast striking Rock, until Arch's staff was empty.
The elven's magic continued to drag at him, will against will. Arch pushed back against it, but he was dragged down by the immortal's strength.
"Arch," cried Galle, and threw him Mara's wand. Arch caught it, cried out the phrase to trigger it, sending another fireball to explode around Rock Gul.
The man swayed but kept upright, his will clamped on Arch, trying to squeeze his heart into silence.
He could not.
A burnt, blackened thing, the elven tried to raise his staff and point it at Arch.
The tip rose, wavered, slid off line. "I... always... always..."
His words failed. The will attack ended, releasing Arch.
Like a mighty stone dropping off a cliff, Rock collapsed slowly to the ground.
His free hand clutched at the earth as he died.
"Compher?" Deeb emerged from the cabin. "Did he hurt you?"
Galle was standing wide-eyed, after having tossed the wand, numbed by the violence. Mara was at the door of the cabin, clutching the jamb, horror on her face.
Arch picked up Rock's staff.
"Arch." Mara's tone held a warning.
The Owl was approaching, his horse moving slowly, deliberately. Across its withers lay the haunch of a deer. He moved without haste, his wings furled in a gesture of peace, until he reached Deeb. He passed down the haunch of meat to the surprised man.
"With all due respects," he said, then clucked his horse into a trot, heading off on the trail over the ford and away.
THE END
About the author: I am a lifelong fantasy reader, trying my hand at writing a throwback to the old-time, brawny adventures of yore. I live in Minnesota with my wife, the author Sandra Rector, and our little Bichon/poodle mix, Bogart. This is my first novel.
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P M F Johnson