Miraculously, the orb was still in his right hand as he entered Cramwell’s square. Bodies littered the ground, arms sprawled wide, heads at disturbing angles. It was unclear whether they were dead or unconscious. There was no time to take a closer look, though, because the beast was recovering.
“Hey, boy!”
Jack’s head turned sideways and he spotted an elf heading his way. It was the shortest of the group. Even so, he was still a full half a head taller than Jack and shared his comrades’ elfin agility.
“Stay back!” Jack said.
He thrust the black orb into the air. Its appearance had a sobering effect on the surrounding Wilderfolk. Recognition flashed on their faces. Most stepped away, giving Jack a wide birth, despite their psychosis.
“Do you know what this thing does?” he asked. The elf’s eyes shifted with concern to the Wilderfolk around him but his blank expression told Jack he didn’t. “No? Well, let me tell you. It’s a weapon from the days of Strong Magic, acquired from a warlock over a century ago. It has power unlike anything your Scarlet Overlord has ever seen.”
Beside Jack, the gargantuan creature was stirring. It had a nasty bump on the head and was stunned but seemed irritatingly uninjured.
“You hear that, beast?” he yelled. “This ball can kill anything. Even you.”
Hoisting its wrinkly body up on six shaky knees, the monster slunk back and circled behind the elf.
It understands! The revelation sent Jack dizzy with the heady thrill of control. It took almost all his effort not to laugh like a maniac. He was bluffing, of course. He’d made up the history but it didn’t matter. It was working. Even when he saw three more law keepers enter the square, he maintained his confidence in the newly-found power of the orb.
The two remaining monsters followed closely behind the new arrivals, crawling over rooftops and down walls face-first with unsettling balance. One even managed this while carrying his princess in one hand. The last two elves weren’t far behind. While the gnarl with the princess zeroed in on Jack’s location, the third one peeled away, tearing into the crowd.
“What’s going on?” demanded Tamos’ familiar voice. He was the last to arrive. When he spotted Jack, his mouth became an angry line. “You again?”
“Yeah. Me!” Jack laughed, his head bobbing with self-satisfaction. “Remember this face because it’s the last thing you’ll see as I march you lot out of here.”
The lead elf frowned. “You what?”
“You heard me.”
“Tamos, I’d listen to him if I were you. He’s got a centuries’ old weapon. A magical one,” said the smallest elf. His sword lowered. Behind him, the beasts cowered.
Tamos scratched his chin. “Centuries’ old, you say? Well in that case, Anders, you’d better stand back.”
“Yeah, well back!” said Jack. “You and your…” He waved a dismissive hand at the giant, pink monsters. “Horses?”
“Horses?” This time it was Tamos’ turn to laugh. “You mean our bosses?”
“Bosses?” Jack frowned. “What?”
“Yes… we’re not the law keepers. You know that, right?” said Tamos. “We don’t ride the gnarls; we serve them.”
“You…?”
“Yeah. They can’t speak human languages – their vocal chords don’t allow it – so they hired our mercenary troop to translate. Who did you think was in charge?” Behind him, one of the gnarls offered a guttural throat vibration. “By the way, Frank says he’s insulted by your Old Sagas. And honestly, I don’t blame him. Just look at them. Every one of the races they talk about are humanoid. What’s up with that? All that separates them are different skin colours and funny ears. You didn’t think there were only humans, elves, dwarves, and the goblin races, did you?”
Shaken but not deterred, Jack levelled the orb at the elf.
“Maybe they only mentioned those because these… beasts… are primitive. They don’t have civilisation. They’re lumbering animals that don’t understand basic ideol–”
The elf pulled a face, warning Jack that he had crossed a line. For someone facing imminent death, the elf seemed awfully relaxed. Jack glanced over his shoulder, wondering if maybe someone was creeping up behind him but there was nobody there. Patiently, Tamos waited for his voice to trail off.
“No civilisation?” said the elf. “The gnarls are the elves’ biggest trading partners. Their apothecaries have revolutionised healing practices. Their mines are more efficient than most dwarf operations. And don’t even get me started on magic. These guys are over here offering their services as law keepers while their leader discusses the cutting edge in magical research with the Scarlet Overlord.
“You Wilderfolk are living in the dark this far from civilisation. I mean, really? You think non-humanoids aren’t powerful and could never rule anything? They can and, in most cases, they do.” The beast with the chained princess growled. “Yes, Tony, of course. I agree.”
Jack shifted with discomfort. “What did he say?”
“He said I need to disarm you before you hurt yourself.”
“What! If you think–”
“Honestly, kid,” Tamos cut him off. “It’s me or him, and I think you’d prefer my tactic. We’re looting this village whether you like it or not. Now you’ve shown yourself to be a hero. Save yourself the heartache, before this gets really embarrassing for all of us, and stand down.”
At a loss, Jack stammered. “But… But… the relic. I’ll use it, I swear!”
Tamos rolled his eyes. “Okay, Tony.” He waved his arms theatrically in mock fear. “He’s having it his way. Stand back… you know,” he smiled, “to get a better view.”
Behind him the gnarl dragged the princess closer by her stout chain. Her shackled wrists were glowing with raw flesh but she said nothing, her face stoic. Now with two massive creatures looming directly behind him, Tamos looked even less concerned by Jack’s threats. Jack tried not to take notice. He responded with a steely gaze. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he couldn’t’ help himself. “A view of what?”
“Glad you asked.” Tamos inspected his sword. Sliding it back into its scabbard, he took a step forward. Jack squeezed the orb tighter and shifted on his feet but Tamos remained relaxed. “A view of me publicly embarrassing you… oh, great hero.” He bowed low, his words dripping with sarcasm. “You see–”
“Oi! Rabbit ears, get back!” Jack warned. His hands were sweating. He hoped the liquid moistening the orb’s dusty coating didn’t affect its potency. With one attempt at this, he had to make it count. “I said, get back!”
Still Tamos didn’t listen. He didn’t even break his stride. “The annoying thing about visiting you Wilderfolk,” he said, “is you live in the most hard-to-reach places. Seriously, it was a nightmare trekking through the forest to get here. But, if I’m honest with myself, I like the challenge. You know why? Because you’re such easy pickings when we reach you.”
“Don’t tempt me!” said Jack.
Tamos ignored him. “You have no access to modern knowledge. No link to the outside world. Your magic is fading and you’ve got nothing to replace it with. And that makes you vulnerable, because when people like us come along with the power of an Overlord behind us, you grasp at straws. Without a decent warlock to protect you, you guess at how magic works. You make mistakes.”
Close now, the elf grabbed Jack’s wrist. Jack squeezed the relic tighter, and for a moment they wrestled, Jack wondering how to make its power kick in, the elf somehow certain it wouldn’t. Twisting Jack aside, Tamos wrenched the orb out of his hands and held it up to the light. He didn’t even take a second look at Jack, whose cheeks were burning red with embarrassment at the ease of his defeat.
Tamos chuckled as he inspected the orb. “Centuries-old relics,” he said. “Powerful. Ancient… Past their expiry date. Did you know that? Just because something was once a weapon, that doesn’t make it one now. Swords dull. Bows loosen. Magical tools are no different. There’s probab
ly a best-before date pressed into this somewhere.” He turned it over. “You’ve been reading your Old Sagas too closely, you simpleton. It’s all allegorical! Power means value – influence – not firepower. And this piece of tat is worthless. Look! Not even a date on it. Probably made by some second-rate hack.”
He tossed the orb over his shoulder, looking disinterested as it landed at the feet of the closest gnarl and cracked open, the contents spilling into the cobbled square. When it did, however, he saw that it was filled with a coarse dust and his opinion seemed to change.
“Is that…?”
Spark powder. Jack reached the conclusion before he did. He had seen the devastating effects of spark powder when his father had once accidentally dismantled an old war urn at his forge. It took weeks to fix the damage and get him back to work. This changed everything. Diving for the elf’s belt, he snatched his sword from its scabbard.
“Hey!” yelled Tamos, almost amused. “What do you think you’re playing at – wait, no!”
Realisation struck him far too late as Jack put distance between them and then – to everybody’s surprise – hurled the sword. Torpedoing to the ground, the blade glinted off a cobble, showering sparks over the powder. That was all he needed. Had he had enough time to smirk, he would have, but the reaction was too fast. The instant the blade’s sparks hit the powder, the air under the gnarl became a black and orange inferno. Jack shielded his face but was unprepared as a shockwave punched him through the air.
Blown off his feet, the last thing Jack saw was the monster’s body, engulfed in flames, thrashing next to the princess. At the same time, something silver flashed by his head and he heard the familiar swoosh of a blade slicing through the air. It was the sword, propelled by the blast’s bone-shattering pressure. It landed somewhere behind him.
Jack hit hard against the ground, groaning as a hail of earth and stone rained down on him. For a moment he was convinced he was paralysed. Then pain pierced through the numbness in his body. He heard a banshee scream and realised Tamos was up. The elf had survived the blast, and he wasn’t amused.
Chapter Seven
Everything was obscured by a blue haze when Jack came to, blinking and staring in a stupor. His ears were ringing. The first time he heard Tamos scream, he couldn’t make out the words but he knew was he was in trouble.
Adrenaline forced him up and away. He dropped onto all fours, seeing red drip onto his hand. Where it came from, he wasn’t sure. The explosion had vaporised his thoughts, turning them into a cloud which hung just out of his reach.
Using the wall for balance, he righted himself and got a view of the square. All around, Wilderfolk were running and screaming. No buildings were damaged but the spray of earth and gore was far-reaching. Its sediment layered most of the open plaza. He could hear panicked voices faintly through a filter of deafness.
The site where the gnarls had been was a mess. One of the beasts – the one that had attacked him in the hall – was on its side, clambering but not gaining purchase. Its milky eyes were wide with panic. Two of its legs were missing, replaced by charred stumps.
The other was dead. The explosion had carved a chunk of flesh and bone the size of a prize-winning pumpkin out of its ribcage and its guts were spilled over the cobbles. By some miracle its body had shielded the princess from the worst of the blast. She was on the ground, unconscious. The chain that connected them like an umbilical cord was slack, the end formerly clutched by the monster dangling free.
Where’s Tamos? This pressing question was at the forefront of Jack’s mind. Certain he had heard the elf scream, he searched the destruction for a body. There was none. Should he find him? Did he need help? No, Jack, he thought to himself, trying to shake the lunacy of shock.
Hurt or not, Tamos was a threat. Although closer than Jack to the epicentre, the elf hadn’t been close enough to be torn apart by the fireball. His guess was that he had similarly been thrown through the air and had landed somewhere in the wreckage.
Ignoring the ringing in his ears, Jack crouched low and scampered to the girl in chains.
“Hello?” He nudged her unresponsive shoulder.
Up close she appeared even more regal that before. Even unconscious, with scorched hair and skin tarnished with filth, she maintained the unearthly beauty associated with young women of her standing. Jack tapped her face lightly and blew a sigh of relief when she opened her eyes.
“You?” was the first word that escaped her lips. A faint line creased the space between her eyebrows. “What…? I…”
“It’s okay. There’s been an accident,” he explained. It was unclear how much she understood. “We don’t have much time so I’m going to pick you up.”
“What? But…”
“It’s your only chance at freedom. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
The lie was obvious. He could tell by the look on her face that, even though she was confused, she still didn’t believe him. Just as he was about to disregard her confusion and reach under her legs and back, she slapped away his hands.
“Unhand me, boy!”
“But…” he said. “I’m saving you.” Heat flashed in his cheeks, betraying his inexperience.
“Saving me?” Fury caused her whole body to tense. She sat up, glancing at the disembowelled monster lying next to her, and gasped. Jack assumed this was a good time to drag her away. That her fight or flight response would settle on flight. He was wrong. With a voice barbed with accusation, she said, “What in Osi’s name have you done?”
“Um...” Jack faltered. Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated a quiz in the middle of a war zone. “Slayed the monster?”
“Slayed? Does anyone even talk like that anymore? Argh! You’ve murdered Tony!”
“No, I – You were chained up!”
“Yes. I was!” She rattled the chain at Jack as if to prove her point. “I’m a conquered royal, stripped of my money and power! Do you know what that means?”
“Uh–”
“It means I have three options: get beheaded, get thrown to the troops as spoils of war, or look for a protector. I chose option three and you ruined it!”
“The elf?”
“Not the elf, you buffoon! Tony. He’s a low-born noble back in his own kingdom… and my boyfriend!”
Now it was Jack’s time to gasp. He glanced at the hulking corpse with distaste.
“That thing? But, you looked so miserable. The chains?”
“He’s into it. And quite frankly, so am I! I don’t smile because it gives me wrinkles.”
“Um…”
Suddenly Jack didn’t know where to look. A kinky, gold-digging princess with a monster fetish. He’d read the Old Sagas dozens of times. Nowhere did they have any instructions on how to deal with something like this.
“I can still save you,” he tried.
The next word that came out of her mouth was an expletive. Followed by a glob of spit in the dirt. “That’s what I think of your rescue attempt! Now, get out of my face.”
Jack wanted to retort. To convince her to believe in him. Though, he didn’t have the luxury of time. Having peeled away from the rest of the group, the final gnarl was out of sight, no doubt crushing villagers down an alleyway somewhere. It was probably safe to assume, though, that it had heard the blast and was already on its way. Knowing he had no other option, he whirled away and dismissed her with a frustrated wave.
Tamos had arrived on the scene, limping. His helmet was missing and his face was slick with blood that seeped from a wound somewhere in his tangled hair. Despite the wince that showed on his face every time he took a step, it was clear he had no intention of slinking off to lick his wounds.
The first slice of a blade came without warning. Jack didn’t hear it as it swept through the air near his throat. His ears were still ringing with white noise.
“You have no idea what you’ve done!” screamed the elf. “You’ve ruined this mission. You’ve murdered an official representative of the Scarl
et Overlord. He had a wife and eight hundred kids back home! Are you going to tell them what you’ve done?”
“A wife!” gasped the princess. Jack and Tamos ignored her.
Another glint of a dagger sliced through the air. Jack barely managed to dodge it.
“He was going to kill me!” Jack complained.
“Forget him,” Tamos snarled. “To hell with the Overlord’s orders. I’m going to kill you!”
It was obvious now that the other elves and the remaining gnarl had seen the explosion just as Jack expected. The brawling hadn’t stopped. Faced by the crazed mob of psychopathic villagers, they were delayed, but Jack could see they were now making a beeline for him.
He needed another relic.
Can I make it back inside?
He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and squinted at his hands. They were the colour of winter berries. Viscous, arterial blood was pumping from his scalp.
If I can just make it…
But he knew he couldn’t. Tamos stood between him and the destroyed hall entrance. Even if he managed to sidestep the elf and overturn the cupboard to get access to its last remaining treasures, there was no telling what else those relics would do. They weren’t magic. At least, not the one he’d chosen. It was explosive. And as for the others, who knew?
As much as he hated to admit it, Tamos was right: Jack was a fool. He knew nothing about magic, and every time he tried to do something someone got hurt. He was a liability and so was his plan. It would only get him trapped. And the Scarlet Overlord’s warriors wouldn’t allow him a second opportunity to escape.
Jack panicked. He had messed up badly. Everything he had done since the invaders had arrived had only made things worse. They were at the mercy of the Overlord. It was Jack who had caused the people most of their grief, driven them against each other, murdered their greatest hope, destroyed their armoury. He knew the psychosis spell had to wear off. At least, he hoped it would. But there were no guarantees.
He was suffocating. Literally, he couldn’t breathe. Taking a weary step back from Tamos, he bounded away, aware of the stares around him as he got as much distance between him and everyone else as possible.
Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection Page 8