The Wandering War--The Sleeping King Trilogy, Book 3

by Cindy Dees

  Eben was closest to her, so she laid her hand on his back. “We have no time to do this gently!” she shouted over a new wave of screeching goblins. She slammed a bolt of healing energy into him. He grunted in pain, but his various nicks and wounds disappeared. He nodded a quick thanks as he dived with renewed vigor into the fight.

  One by one, she healed her friends. And eventually, the goblins began to dwindle. The sounds of the clashing metal and howled gibberish grew less deafening. They were going to make it.

  But then, no fewer than twenty fast-moving, burly shapes rushed the clearing, screaming horrible, animalistic sounds in some sort of primitive battle cry.

  Her relief evaporated in a rush of ice-cold terror. Those were not goblins.

  She and her companions were in trouble now.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Raina backed up closer to the fire beside Rosana while Sha’Li and the boys formed an arc in front of her, weapons bristling.

  The attackers were an assortment of creatures Raina had never seen before. Some looked frog-like, with great, bulging eyes set too wide in their faces. Others had bent spines and vaguely simian features. A few larger beasts, four-legged but with human intelligence shining from their eyes, charged through the trees, bellowing.

  As the sheer numbers of attackers began to strain the party’s ability to hold them off, Raina was forced to cast healing in a steady stream. The magic came up through the ground into her feet and flowed like warm sunlight through her body, bright and cleansing. Her entire body glowing, she not only healed her friends but spared bits of healing enough to keep their foes from dying. She didn’t cast enough to allow the downed creatures to stand up and rejoin the fight, of course, but she did her best to keep everyone alive from her awkward position behind and blocked by her friends.

  A steady stream of new creatures joined the fray as if they’d been drawn to the sounds of combat. How were they ever to hold off the entire population of this portion of the forest? For the first time, it entered her mind that they might not win this fight. Her friends’ battle prowess notwithstanding, at some point sheer numbers of attackers would exhaust her and the others, and they would all die.

  There was nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide. They were surrounded by monsters, and more just kept coming. Desperation began to set in, and she tried a new healing spell she’d been experimenting with. Or rather a very old healing spell.

  The last time she’d dreamed of Gawaine, he had mentioned such a spell existing in his day, and she’d been researching and trying to re-create it ever since.

  The vitality spell not only healed all of a person’s injuries or illnesses, but it also restored energy and overall health. It was very difficult for her to cast properly and took massive amounts of healing energy to cast, but her friends needed the boost. One by one, she cast the vitality spell upon them, and her friends returned to the fight fully refreshed. And just in the nick of time.

  At long last, the end of the wave of attacking creatures seemed to come. No more greenskins or deformed monsters were forthcoming from the forest, and as the odds whittled down to nearly even, the last half dozen creatures abruptly disengaged from the fight, turned tail, and fled into the trees.

  Rynn straightened from his fighting crouch, breathing hard. “Thank the stars that’s over. They were relentless there for a while.”

  Will leaned against his staff, panting. “Well, that was more of a workout than I needed after a long day’s walk.”

  Sha’Li helped Eben adjust his armor and rebuckle it where it had come loose under his sword arm during the fight. The lizardman’s tough hide looked the worse for wear, nicked and bleeding in several spots. Raina moved over to her and began trickling more healing into her.

  Without warning, perhaps three dozen men and women dropped out of the trees around them, one foot riding in a rope loop, the other taking off running the moment they reached the ground. Raina spied nooses draped around everyone’s necks, and her blood ran cold. The Hanged Men. A gang of bandits whose requirement for membership was to have been executed at least once at the hands of the Kothite Empire. They were described as the worst of the worst brigands out here, completely without mercy.

  They were the roughest, meanest-looking bunch she’d ever laid eyes on. Only a few of them had full sets of teeth. Their hair hung in twisted, greasy ropes, and their skin was nearly black with ground-in grime. A few women mingled with the bandits, looking as tough and at ease with weapons as the men. Dying at the hands of brigands wasn’t the end she’d have chosen for herself.

  The Hanged Men attacked in complete silence, which made them all the more ominous. Only the grunts of effort, the clanging of swords, the dull thud of Will’s staff, and the musical chiming of Rynn’s crystal greaves and gauntlets marked the resumption of combat.

  Raina began incanting healing spells aloud, and her voice provided the only soundtrack to the fight. She drew larger and larger balls of healing magic, slamming them into her friends’ backs, having to restore nearly all their life energy with each touch of her hands. She began to feel like she was playing some oversized musical instrument, her hands flying in every direction, magic bursting from her fingers as fast as she could release it.

  She had no time at all to check on their foes, so busy was she trying to keep the four fighters in front of her alive. It wasn’t that she was unwilling to heal the Hanged Men. She just had no healing left over for them. Aurelius would be proud of Will and the others for boxing her in behind them and effectively hoarding her healing for themselves.

  Even she could tell the fight wasn’t going well. First, Eben went down, and then Sha’Li. Thankfully, the lizardman girl was able to get them back up in the nick of time before bandits leaped over them to attack Raina.

  And then magic started to strike her. Raina was forced to throw up several magical shields in quick succession, which meant she was not healing her friends. She had to throw a life spell at Rynn and a big wad of healing after that to get him back up, and she barely got turned around in time to heal Will before he went down.

  Another burst of magic hit her, silencing her. Thankfully, Rosana hit her fast with a spell to remove whatever curse had taken her voice, and Raina sprayed a fast round of healing at all four of her frontline fighters without stopping to see if any of them needed it. The technique was incredibly wasteful of magical energy, but she had no choice. She’d drawn and cast enough magic to heal a small village, and fatigue was beginning to set in. It wasn’t as if she had any choice but to keep going, though.

  She stumbled and took a step backward and then lurched forward as the smell of wool scorching announced that the hem of her cloak had strayed into the fire directly at her back. The bandits pressed the party hard, forcing them back closer and closer to the fire and into tighter and tighter proximity with each other.

  Raina knew all too well that a moment would come when her friends would stop being combat effective with their weapons if they were crowded too tightly together. The bandits seemed to be counting on that, in fact.

  But then Rynn executed a flying somersault all the way over the fire, and Sha’Li pulled a nifty duck-and-spin move that broke her out of their tight cluster. It left only Eben and Will holding position between Raina and Rosana and their attackers, but it also forced a portion of their attackers to turn away and face the new threats on their flanks.

  It was a desperate move. Now Raina was forced to throw healing at Rynn and Sha’Li from several yards away, timing her bursts of magic to aim between dodging, spinning attackers at two rapidly moving targets. It was a questionable proposition at best.

  One of the bandits charged directly through the fire, wrapping her in a crushing hold and slapping a hard, foul hand over her mouth. She struggled like mad, but the bandit overpowered her with ease.

  With her mouth covered like this, she couldn’t utter any incants. And without incants, she could cast no magic. Without magic, she was defenseless, and her friends w
ould fall in a matter of seconds. Panicked, she looked around and saw that, indeed, all of her companions were either going down or already down on the ground. Various bandits sat on their chests or stood on their necks.

  She knew defeat when she saw it. Now she could only hope that her White Heart colors meant something to these criminals. If she got lucky, she could heal the bandits and maybe even be allowed to save her friends.

  Cautiously, the ruffian at her back lifted his hand away from her mouth. Of a sudden, all the bandits were climbing off her friends. One of the bandits, an elf, and Rynn pounded each other on the back, laughing. As fast as it has started, the fight was over.

  Raina spied red, flame-shaped markings on the bandit’s face. A pyresti. One of the fire elves. He was built powerfully for an elf, his hair black and long, his clothing strange. He wore black, pajama-like garments under a layer of armor that looked like hundreds of tiny pieces of bone drilled with holes and tied together with red cord. He turned toward her more fully, and she got a good look at his face.

  She stared, stunned. She knew that man. Two years ago, he had helped Cicero break her out of her family’s home in Tyrel on the night of her sixteenth birthday.

  “Moto?” she asked in disbelief.

  He stared back for a moment and then broke into a big grin. “Well, look at you. All grown up and a healer to boot.”

  “Speaking of which, may I please be set loose so I may heal everyone?”

  Moto responded instantly, “For crying out loud, Klem, turn the White Heart healer loose and let her do her job.”

  She moved quickly around the clearing, checking everyone who was down on the ground to make sure no one was dying. Once she had everyone stabilized, she would go back and revive the unconscious and heal the badly wounded. She honestly didn’t know how much healing capacity she had left, and this would be a very bad time to run out completely.

  Rynn exclaimed, “Did your gang have to nearly kill us before you got around to recognizing me?”

  “You couldn’t handle a few flea-bitten gobbies by yourself?” Moto guffawed. “You should’ve let me know you’d be coming this way. I’d have sent a welcoming party.”

  Rynn grinned. “It seems as if you already did. Where in the Great Void were you an hour ago? Those goblins and monstrous creatures nearly had us.”

  Moto laughed. “We were sitting up in the trees enjoying the show. I figured your crew could use the practice at swordplay, brother.”

  Brother? Elves did not use such terms lightly. Why hadn’t Rynn told them that a close friend of his lived in these forests? What else wasn’t the paxan telling them about himself?

  The bandits repaired and stoked the fire that had been knocked apart in the combat and dragged more wood over beside it. A stew pot emerged from the Hanged Men’s supplies, and the bandits pulled various bits of meat and herbs out of their pouches to drop in the pot.

  While her friends and most of the bandits settled around the bonfire, Raina continued moving about, healing and listening to the conversation. Rynn was speaking.

  “So, Moto. What news is there? What has transpired around here since the last time I passed this way?”

  Raina couldn’t wait to hear the answer to that. Perhaps Moto would have news of her dear friend, Cicero. And mayhap the pyresti would reveal why exactly Rynn was so familiar with this awful place.

  * * *

  Gabrielle was exhausted. Gunther Druumedar might have been grumpy and generally unpleasant to travel with, but at least his mechanical leg had slowed him to a reasonable pace on the road. Not so his energetic son. Korgan set a murderous pace up the steep, icy slopes through the thin mountain air so cold it burned her lungs.

  The rokken, Bekkan, seemed none the worse for his long imprisonment in storm copper and readily kept pace with Korgan. Jossa, the ogre-kin apprentice stormcaller who’d come with them, also wasn’t having any trouble keeping up in spite of the massive warstar she carried. The heavy shaft rested on her right shoulder, its two spiked metal balls clanging on their chains against her scaled armor. But then, she was tallest in the party and had the longest stride.

  This evening, they reached a good-sized village as dusk fell and a thin, crystalline snow began to drift down.

  She panted, “What say you to the idea of renting rooms at the inn and sleeping in warm, soft beds for a change?”

  Korgan shrugged, but Bekkan said courteously, “You must be exhausted, my lady. We have been moving fast and without pause for nearly a week.”

  She had no idea why he’d started calling her by a title. Someone must have told him who she was when she was not tromping around Groenn’s Rest pretending to be a commoner. She responded to his remark with a grateful smile.

  “Who’s paying for these soft beds?” Korgan asked, even crankier than usual.

  “My treat,” she answered quickly. “I’m paying for all of us.”

  Korgan’s attitude thawed considerably at that. At the inn, she engaged four rooms for the night and four steaming hot baths. The innkeeper said those would take about an hour to prepare, so in the meantime, they sat down in the common room to sup. A pot of melted cheese was set on their table, along with a platter of crusty bread and chopped vegetables to dip in the savory sauce. The meal was bracing and tasty, the sauce tangy and rich with wine.

  They’d nearly finished a second pot of the stuff when a handsome avarian with a raven’s glossy black feathers in place of hair ducked into the inn through its low front door. He looked around the room and, spying Gabrielle and her friends, made straight for them. Sharp alarm sounded in her belly as he stopped beside them.

  “Well met, traveler,” she said politely. “May we help you?”

  “Gabrielle?” he asked low.

  She blinked, startled. How did this stranger know her name? She surreptitiously searched his clothing and exposed skin for any sign of an eight-pointed compass. It was the symbol of the secret resistance group she worked in to bring down the Kothite Empire one day. “I am Gabrielle. And you are?”

  Ignoring her question, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a leather parchment tube, handing it over to her.

  Frowning, she fished out the letter and unrolled it. Sasha’s handwriting. Her dearest friend and wife of the Heart’s ambassador to the Imperial Seat, Sasha was also a member of the Eight, recruited by Gabrielle herself.

  My dearest Gabby,

  I have sent Sir Valyri Nightfeather to accompany you on your journey. He has worked for my husband and me for many years. He is a Heart knight and a knight commander in the Graceful Order, an avarian group. He was trained by and has served under Lord Justinius, which is to say he’s a highly accomplished warrior. I will feel better about all the traipsing around you’re doing if you are guarded by someone like him. He is also exceedingly discreet, so anything he might hear or overhear while traveling with you will stay solely with him.

  Safe travels to you,

  Sasha

  Gabrielle looked up from the missive at the avarian. “Why do you not wear colors?”

  “Sometimes the nature of the work I do requires a high level of discretion.”

  By discretion, he clearly meant disguise and subterfuge.

  Curious, she asked, “Do you even carry colors with you?”

  “No. Ofttimes, the danger of discovery makes doing so unwise.”

  She knew wherefore he spoke. She carried no proof of her identity either, although she did wear clothing of high enough quality and carry enough gold to be taken for a wealthy merchant or minor noble. It was generally enough to ensure that common bandits would steer clear of her and the Imperial repercussions to follow from messing with someone like her.

  “Well, then, I suppose we should see to getting you a room for the night,” she announced. “And what should we call you?”

  “Valyri is fine. My friends call me Val.”

  “Very well. I am, as you already know, Gabrielle. And my friends call me Gabby. And these are Korgan, Bekkan
, and Jossa.”

  Val nodded politely, and Jossa smiled shyly at the handsome knight.

  “Val has been highly recommended to me by my oldest and dearest friend. He is a seasoned warrior and is willing to travel as our guard escort. What say you to another sword in our party?”

  Jossa’s smile widened. She clearly approved of the idea.

  Korgan, however, harrumphed. “The bigger our group, the more attention we’ll draw.”

  Gabrielle shrugged. “If we look menacing enough, however, no one will bother us. And you must admit, Val, here, definitely looks menacing.”

  Unfortunately, Val chose that moment to look more amused than dangerous.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked him.

  “Nay. I’ve been trying to catch up with you for the past week and hardly stopped to eat or sleep. You’ve led me on quite the chase.”

  That made Korgan grunt in satisfaction. He declared, “Diamond season starts in a few months, and I have to get back home in time to sign up for the first tournaments of the year. Best gold of the season to be made knocking out the new crop of would-be gladiators.”

  “You fight in the Diamond?” Val asked, sliding in beside Korgan. “Have I bet on you?”

  “They call me Ironhand. Won my fair share of tournaments.”

  Val’s face lit up. “You fight with axe-hammer and shield? Tend to favor going in low on the attack?”

  Korgan smiled broadly. “That’d be me.”

  “Well met, Ironhand. An honor. Let me buy you an ale.”

  Gabrielle mentally rolled her eyes. Male bonding was alive and well when it came to paid pugilists bashing each other’s brains in. At least Korgan wasn’t likely to protest Val traveling with them now.

  As for Bekkan, he wasn’t saying much about anything to anyone. Ever since the incident in the Valley of Storms that she could not remember, but which Bekkan solemnly vowed had happened, he’d been singularly untalkative. Not that she blamed him. This world he’d woken into must seem a passing strange place.