War Wizard

by King, DB

  “I was planning on eating most of it,” Raymond said. He glanced down at the chunk of jerky in his hand, the meat glistening with a rich layer of fat.

  With her usual deftness, Gwen rose and plucked it out of his hand. Before Raymond knew what had happened, she’d ripped a shred from the jerky and placed the meat back into his hand.

  Raymond chuckled before taking another bite and chewing it.

  “You know,” he said. “One of these days, I’m going to work on my quickness a bit, get the food out of your hands before you get it out of mine.”

  She grinned. “I’d love to see that. I truly would. But you’re along for the ride because of that oh-so-brilliant tactical mind of yours. Not to mention how hard you swing that scimitar.” Gwen stepped closer. “Gets me thinking about other things you do with such precision and fervor.”

  “A one-track mind on this one.” Raymond placed his hands on Gwen’s hips, her curves round through her leather armor. He glanced over to the men, who were all too wrapped up in their preparations to notice what was happening between Raymond and Gwen.

  “As if you’d have it any other way. Part of me wonders if we have enough time to slip off into the woods before the mission. Not sure if I’m going to be able to wait until we’re back with the caravan.”

  “A tempting offer,” he said. “But we ought to save our strength.”

  She grinned, stepping back from him. “There’s that brilliant, tactical mind of yours at word, captain.” Gwen glanced away as she opened her waterskin to take a sip. There was something occupying her—Raymond didn’t need to be able to read thoughts to know that one.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Merely thinking about what you said, about when we’re back.”

  “Try not to think too much about it,” Raymond said with a grin. “I need you focused—not distracted.”

  She brought her ocean-blue eyes up to him. “Speaking of a one-track mind. But no, I was thinking more… when we get back back.”

  Raymond cocked his head to the side. “You mean when we return to Tyan? When the mission is over?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I can’t believe you have the space to think about something that far off. We’ve still got the mission ahead of us—not just this mission, but this fool’s quest to bring some human back from the dead. Once that’s done, we need to get back to Tyan. And once that’s done, there’s the little matter of fending off both the Lunar Empire and the remaining kingdoms still allied against us. I’d say we have enough on our plates at the moment.”

  She smiled, stepping toward him. “But there’s going to be an after to all of that. We’re going to find this ranger, we’re going to get back, and we’re going to win the wars against the Empire and the kingdoms. Of that I have no doubt.”

  “And how can you have such certainly?”

  “Simple. Because I have faith in the Goddesses.”

  Raymond scoffed. “Always hard to believe a woman as brilliant as you could believe in something as silly as—“

  Before could finish, Gwen placed a finger over his lips, stopping him mid-sentence.

  “My love, we’ve had more than enough theology debates for one lifetime. And they always end up the same way.” She lowered her finger.

  Raymond let out a snort of a laugh. “That’s right—they end with us arguing all the way to bed. And when we’ve successfully, ah, discharged our competitive energies, we realize that neither of us came even close to changing the other’s mind.”

  “Correct. In fact, we only end up even more entrenched in our beliefs. Or lack of beliefs, in your case.”

  “Now, that’s not entirely true. It’s not that I disbelieve, it’s more that I feel that the Goddesses are more… metaphorical. Less actual women with powers over the material realm, and more… ideas.”

  “So, your stance is that they’re real, but that they’re not real.”

  Raymond opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.

  “You almost got me with that one,” he said, breaking the silence.

  She chuckled. “I have to admit, it’s fun poking your sensitive spots.” She raised her eyebrows. “And no innuendo on that statement.”

  Raymond smirked before taking another bite from his jerky.

  “But the point is, I have faith. I believe that we’re going to see the other side of this. So, from where I’m standing, we ought to already be planning on what we’re going to do when this mission, the wars, when they’re all over.”

  “It sounds to me like you’ve already got something in mind.”

  She grinned, this one broad and almost girlish—a strange look for a tough-as-nails soldier like Gwen. “I think we need to make this… whatever it is, official.”

  “You mean… like being joined?” Raymond asked.

  “That’s right. I know we’ve been shying away from the subject with all that’s been going on. But once this war is over and there’s finally peace… I can’t think of any reason why we shouldn’t spend our lives together.”

  “You sound certain of this.”

  “I can say with total confidence that I’ve never felt more certain about anything in my life. I love you truly, Raymond K’legrethi, and I want us to be joined for all time. And, perhaps, we might decide to make a family together.”

  Raymond was scared and excited all at once. “And you’re choosing now, hours before a life-and-death mission, to tell me this.”

  She shrugged, still smiling. “I don’t see any sense in waiting when you know how you feel, what you want.”

  He took his hands into hers. “I love you too, Gwenelyn E’rythn. But let’s finish the mission. I feel this is a conversation best had over some wine and under some soft, silk sheets.”

  She smiled. “Fine. But only because I can tell by that look in your eyes how you truly feel. But that mind of yours needs to do its planning—I understand.”

  “You know me better than anyone.”

  “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He leaned in and kissed her softly.

  “Now,” she said. “Let’s kill some orcs.”

  “With pleasure, my love.”

  The Present

  Raymond shook his head, finding himself once again back at the caravan. Tension twisted his stomach, and he wished more than anything that he still had the tankard of ale at hand.

  Perhaps Runa was wise to take it, he considered as he pushed off from the railing and started back into the caravan.

  The air was cooler inside, out of the hot sun. Servants zipped here and there purposefully, all giving him a nod of respect as they passed. Part of Raymond didn’t want to spar. The memories, still fresh in his mind, sent new waves of pain through him whenever he considered them. He thought about the trunk in his room, full of his private stash of ale and wine. All he needed to do was to simply go there and indulge. One or two bottles of wine would be all he’d need to forget.

  Runa wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I were to skip our sparring session, he thought. And more than that, she’s right—it’ll do me no good to drown myself in wine.

  Raymond returned to his quarters, but only to slip out of his clothes and into the soft, light, cream-colored cloth of his training garb. He stepped into his training slippers, the feather-light material muffling his footsteps and allowed him to move in total silence. Raymond cast one look at the ornate trunk that contained his personal stash, but tore his eyes away and moved on.

  He was soon in the sparring room, Runa already there and in the middle of her warm-ups. He watched her from the second-floor viewing area for a time, noting the speed and grace with which she moved.

  Almost a waste to have a fighter like her doing the commanding.

  Raymond didn’t have too much time to watch. Runa noticed him, glancing up and regarding him with a smile.

  “No cheating by watching my practicing,” she said, raising one leg up and stretching it until her foot w
as level with her head. “Come down here and let’s begin.”

  Raymond nodded, then took a survey of the distance from the second floor to the first.

  He decided it was doable.

  Raymond jumped onto the railing, balancing his body for a moment before springing off, curling his body and doing a flip before landing on his feet.

  “Very, very nice,” Runa said once he’d landed. “Trying to impress me?”

  He chuckled as he stretched his legs. “More seeing if I could still do it. You think I’m a fighter now—you should’ve seen me in my prime.”

  That got a laugh out of Runa. “You’re speaking as if you’ve got one foot in the grave. Raymond, you’re barely older than the men you command.”

  “Still. There was a time when I could stick a landing like that and not need a moment to recover.”

  She sneered. “Sounds to me like you’re getting some excuses out there for when you lose.”

  “Not a chance. You want a spar, I’ll give you one.”

  Runa turned on her feet, giving her attention to the racks of weapons. “Want to use real steel? Make this interesting?”

  Raymond laughed. “You can’t be serious. I doubt the king would be too pleased to know the first and second in command of the mission upon which the kingdom rests were dueling with steel for fun.”

  “Just wanted to get a rise out of you. Let’s start with training spears, shall we?”

  “We shall.”

  Runa strode over to the racks of training weapons, swords and spears and daggers and all manner of mock weapons to choose from. She took one spear and gave it a roll-toss toward Raymond. He neatly caught it and held it, noting its weight and balance. Runa took a spear of her own and stepped back toward Raymond, standing twenty paces away from him.

  “Now,” she said. “One more question before we begin.”

  “And that is?”

  “Do you want me to go easy on you?”

  Raymond laughed. “Do your worst.”

  “Those sound like last words.”

  Runa took her spear into both hands and lunged forward. When she was close, she took one long step, jabbing the spear toward Raymond with a precision and speed for which he hadn’t been prepared.

  Something about the fight brought memories back to him, flashes of images in his mind’s eye.

  The Past

  Gwen at his side, Raymond took aim with the rest of his men at the camp of orcs. There were ten in all—an easy task for six well-trained elvish soldiers. Orcs could be powerful, but what they had in strength, they lacked in strategy. And strategy was where Raymond shined.

  “Now,” he whispered to his men. “Loose.”

  He and Gwen and the rest of the men shot their arrows, each zipping through the air toward their targets.

  The orcs had no idea what had hit them. Two of the warriors dropped instantly, the razor-sharp heads of the expertly made elvish arrows piercing their skulls and driving into the brains beneath. Other arrows stuck into the thick hides of the orcs, the victims howling in pain.

  Stupid as orcs were, it didn’t take them long to figure out where the arrows had come from. They turned toward the elves, the still-living orcs pulling arrows out of their bodies as the others roared and raised their weapons into the air.

  Gwen turned to Raymond, each hand on one of her twin daggers.

  “Now,” she said with a smile, “comes the fun part.”

  The Present

  Back in the caravan, Raymond ducked his head to the side just in time to avoid the wooden tip of Runa’s training spear.

  “Playing for keeps, eh?” he asked as he swiped upward with the bottom of his own spear. Runa quickly knocked it away, the clack of wood on wood echoing through the air.

  “Maybe you’ve gone soft in your old age.” Runa smirked. “Look at you worrying about a training spear injury. What, afraid you might mark up that pretty face of yours?”

  Raymond laughed. The mind-dulling effects of his ale had already faded, replaced by the hot intensity of battle. Runa was right to spar.

  Raymond stuck the spear into the air in front of him, Runa ducking and trying for a stab of her own. It was the exact move he was hoping she’d make. Raymond swiped the bottom of his spear in a clockwise half-circle, swatting her spear out of the way before driving toward her with an overhead attack. Runa was too quick for this, however, sidestepping it and sending Raymond out of balance with his miss.

  Before he could turn back around to face her, she swiped the tip of the spear down and dragged it hard against the thick tendons of the back of both of his feet. The blow hurt, but only enough to make Raymond hop forward with a yelp of pain.

  “And just like that,” she said, “I’ve crippled you and left you on the ground waiting for my final strike.”

  Raymond shook his head as he took a slow half-circle around to Runa. “Let me think you’d made a mistake. Clever.”

  “We’re both used to fighting brain-dead orcs,” she said with a smile as she stood with one foot in front of the other, both hands clasped around her spear. “Figured I’d give you a reminder of what it’s like to battle with someone who has more than a scoop of brains in their head.”

  They both stood still, each waiting for the other to strike.

  “Oh, one of us has to do it,” Raymond said. He let out a yell and lunged forward.

  The Past

  Watching Gwen fight was like seeing a master at work. She was less a warrior and more an artist, her twin blades the brushes she used to paint her bloody masterpieces.

  With a battle cry, Gwen pivoted out of the way of the clumsy downward strike of an orc’s axe, jabbing the tip of the dagger in her right hand into the orc’s wrist, the attack precise enough to sever a tendon and force the orc to drop the ground-buried weapon. The orc stood up straight, his eyes on his limp hand as he regarded it with confusion.

  It was his last mistake.

  Gwen silently moved to the orc’s side, jabbing the left blade into his haunch, the pain enough to make him bend over at the waist—exactly the move that Gwen was hoping for. Once he was in position, Gwen gently dragged the right blade across the orc’s neck, sending a spray of dark blood onto the ground before him. The orc sputtered and coughed, dropping into a heap as the blood spread around him.

  Gods, she’s good, Raymond thought.

  The howl of an orc behind him brought his mind back to the moment. He turned just in time to watch one of the warband leaders, his green skin covered in tattoos and scars, rush toward him with a massive greatsword raised above his head.

  “This one’s yours!” Gwen shouted.

  Raymond smirked, the hilt of his scimitar grasped in both hands.

  The Present

  “Come on!” Runa yelled back in the sparring room. “I’ve got one, now it’s your turn. I can dance around like this all day, you know.”

  Raymond spun on his heels, the memories of Gwen that were flooding his mind sending a surge of anger running through him. He brought the spear around for a circle attack, putting all his weight into it. When he turned and swung the spear down, it connected with Runa’s so hard that a crack sounded through the sparring room.

  Runa stepped back, glancing down at her spear.

  “That… that was more intense than I was expecting,” she said.

  Raymond felt the same way. But he was in the grips of combat—nothing but victory was on his mind.

  “Mind if I try some alternative techniques?” she asked.

  “I insist.”

  Runa held the spear parallel to the ground. Then, with a quick motion, she brought it down onto her raised leg. It broke in two, and she held the two broken pieces in two separate hands.

  Raymond’s eyes went to the jagged ends of the two pieces, the wood broken and mean-looking.

  “Be careful with those,” he said. “Last thing I want is a belly full of splinters.”

  “Believe me,” she replied. “Nothing happens with a weapon I wield
unless I want it to happen.”

  “Here’s hoping.”

  With that, Runa and Raymond returned to combat. He rushed toward Runa, and as he did, Raymond saw that a handful of soldiers had gathered up above, watching the fight.

  Raymond jabbed the spear forward, Runa using the two broken pieces to hold it in place. He struggled to pull it from her grasp, but she kept it in the perfect position to keep his spear still. Both their hands shook, Raymond understanding that the slightest slip would result in the other having the upper hand.

  “It appears we've got an audience,” Raymond said.

  Runa flicked her eyes up for a split-second. “It appears we do. Then we’d best give them some entertainment.”

  “I agree.”

  Raymond took in the sight of Runa with her twin sticks, the sight reminding him of Gwen, taking him back to the memories that played in his mind.

  The Past

  Thunder crackled above, the storm that had been brewing over the mountains finally reaching the west and the realms of men. Rain came down in sheets, muddying the ground and turning the battlefield into a sloshy mess of blood and mud.

  And the fight wasn’t over. Raymond’s clothes were soaked to the bone as he drew the blade of his scimitar across the belly of his latest victim, the orcs ropey guts spilling out into his huge hands as the life gurgled out of him. The orc lived for long enough to take one look at his own gore before collapsing into a heap.

  Up ahead, the rest of the men were harrying the remaining few orcs, holding the line and taking careful jabs with their spears. Orcs were fearsome opponents, but a team of capable Tyan warriors with distance and spears on their side would have no trouble dispatching them.

  “Raymond, watch!”

  He turned his head in the direction of Gwen’s voice, watching as she grabbed onto the arm of the chieftain, pulling herself up onto his shoulders as the massive orc struggled to yank her off. Before he had a chance, she drove the twin blades of her daggers into his neck, slicing across in opposite directions. Blood poured from the two wounds, and Gwen sprang off the chieftain’s body as he dropped.