by Brandon Barr
CHAPTER TEN
Payetta peered down from the sky as the raven became her sole pair of eyes. Half the cottages she spied were either in flames, or already lay a smoldering ruin. Scattered bodies lay about the structures, those farmers who’d been caught by surprise before the town’s warning bells had rung.
Judging by the number of dead, the bells had not rung quickly enough. Any farmers who had enough warning would have fled to Hargstead.
The raven’s eyes gave her an excellent vantage point of the walled town—the only capable defense in all of the North or South Meadow. But capable only to a point. Perhaps against twenty, maybe even fifty men as Percy had stated, but not the number of raiders that had come today.
“Are you tiring?” came Justen’s voice as a whisper in her ear. It was a strange sensation, the sense that she was flying far away from where her body actually knelt beside her husband and the Heroes Brigade.
“I’m still strong,” she spoke softly back. “There are a lot of dead farmers down there.”
She felt a warmth on her back she knew was Justen’s hand. Another reminder that she was not soaring on the wind but earthbound. She spotted a pair of raiders below giving chase to a young man and woman.
“Pigshits!” she hissed. “They’re going to kill them!”
“I’m sorry,” growled Old Ferren, “could you please translate, Justen?”
Justen shook his head and shrugged. “She sees something that’s got her really upset.”
Payetta left the raven and jumped to her feet, then started off at a run. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Kirk, Jax, and Ian following her and Justen while Ferren huffed to catch up.
“Dammit Ferren, let’s go,” she shouted, and to her surprise, found herself slightly out of breath. Her magic use had drained her more than she realized. She shouted back again over her shoulder. “There’s two raiders chasing a pair of farmers. We can take them by surprise before they catch them. We have to hurry though!”
Payetta charged down a dirt path through open fields, past a fuming crater that once was a farmhouse, a little clay pot of wilted orange flowers stood outside of where the door must have stood. It was a lot farther of a run than it appeared while she’d soared on the breeze as a raven.
Old Ferren wouldn’t make it, neither would Ian. Kirk and Jax were young enough, in their thirties and fit. Justen would normally, but then, she remembered his shoulder.
“Take a rest, Justen,” she shouted as she ran.
“Not…going to…happen,” panted Justen between breaths.
“Payetta!” called Jax, “We lost Ferren and Ian back at that last cottage.”
Payetta simply waved her arm in a windmill as she ran, beckoning him and Kirk to follow. Ahead was a small barn made of logs. It was the position she’d spotted while in flight where she hoped to ambush the two raiders. Coming up along the side she took a knee to catch her breath. Justen, Kirk, and Jax came quickly behind and followed her lead.
“Can you spot them?” asked Kirk.
Payetta put a hand to the ground and closed her eyes, searching with all her energy the surrounding area for life. Though she could use her Eartheye while standing by concentrating on the ground through her feet, she found she could extend further out by touching her hands to the forest floor. It was a more intimate posture between her and the earth, and whatever the reason was, it enhanced her ability to feel farther into the world around her.
As she searched, she sensed the presence of her husband and two friends, then moving outward, a chaotic tug of smaller animals and the minuscule sensation of thousands of insects. There was one larger animal, a bull pinned up in a stall, but she felt no other human presence, and her heart sank.
Had the young man and woman been cut down before they could reach her ambush point?
She was about to pull out of her intense concentration when the presence of two humans began to tug on the outskirts of her mental reach. Coming close behind them was another pair. Each exuded an emotion that she felt, and though she had tried on occasion to enter the mind of a human instead of an animal, it was like hitting an impenetrable wall. Sensing each of the four by the emotional energy their bodies released, it was not difficult to discern the good from the despicable.
“They’re coming,” cried Payetta excitedly. “The first two are farmers, but the second pair need their guts spilled. Justen, use an arrow on one, Kirk and Jax, you take out the other.”
Payetta kept her eyes shut, watching the pursuit of the young couple through the eyes of a field squirrel perched on a fence post. The two raiders were gaining and the young man was pulling frantically on the young woman’s arm to keep her moving. They were so close, only thirty or so steps to the barn
“I can’t draw my bow back,” said Justen. “My shoulder doesn’t have the strength. I’ll have to use my sword in my left.”
“I’m decent with a bow,” said Kirk. “You go with Jax, I’ll tag the first one I see.”
Suddenly Payetta gasped. The young woman stumbled and collapsed to the ground.
“Go!” she shouted. “They fell just short of the barn!”
Payetta heard the scuff of feet as the three darted off, but her focus was on the squirrel. She sent the bushy-tailed creature racing through the field. The first raider was slowing, sword on his shoulder, a cruel grin smeared on his face. She saw him lift his sword back and she sprang.
She landed on the back of his head full force, stunning him momentarily. Clinging to his hair for a grip she twisted her squirrel’s body around and bit down hard on the back of the man’s neck. The raider cried out as she tried to scramble down his leathers, but a hand grabbed her by the tail and flung her down with incredible force toward the ground.
Instantly she lost her connection with the animal and knew it was either dead or unconscious. She swore, angry over the fate of the animal.
She opened her eyes, breaking concentration with the creaturely life around her. A wave of dizziness came over her and she leaned against the barn as she caught her breath. Her limitations as a mage were beginning to catch up to her.
The bite of metal on metal awakened her blood again. Justen. Kirk. Jax. She was about to get to her feet and give her own sword a chance at blood today when she remembered…there was a stall with a bull nearby.
***
Justen’s first blow nearly knocked the raider’s sword from his hand, but the man was a capable fighter and sized up Justen’s strength…and the arrow lodged in his right shoulder. Justen pressed the attack as Jax plunged his sword through the heart of the second raider who Kirk wounded with an arrow to the gut.
A rock hit Justen’s man on the chest, and then another on the leg. The young man and woman they’d come to rescue were repaying their thanks as best they could.
The raider jumped back, narrowly eluding a mortal blow to his midsection. He glanced at his fallen friend then turned and spat at the young couple. Justen stormed forward, but the raider retreated further.
“Be hell to pay for each of you,” he warned in a prophetic tone. “Titannus sees all. He will find you and his eyes will burn inside your mind.” The raider grinned at them like a nasty rat. “Time is not your friend, but your tormentor. Your hour is coming fools!”
Kirk sprang out beside Justen, sword drawn, and the raider turned on his heels to run.
A muscled mass of flesh sent Justen and Kirk leaping back.
The raider’s surprised shout was cut short as an enormous bull hit him from the side, tossing him with its horns into the sky. The man flew like a limp rag straight up, and then the bull caught him on the way down with a backbreaking blow that sent the body crashing sideways into the ground where it rolled to a stop in a field.
Jax stared at the crumpled raider. “A poetic end for that guy. Tried to scare us with all that bullshit.”
Justen kept his eyes on the large beast and shook his head. He wasn’t so sure about the man’s warning being false. He’d spoken it with conv
iction, and wasn’t just wasting his breath to frighten them. He glanced at Jax. “That bull’s my wife.”
“You got that right. She’s no sweet little bunny.”
“Don’t get carried away now,” smiled Justen, but any real humor he felt faded swiftly as the raider’s words continued to weigh on his mind.
Little was known about Titannus or the mage, Zarith Smith, who trained him, for few survived a brush with them. It was said he lived in a fort high up on a mountain that shadowed the eastern side of the Meadowlands. An old world map he’d once seen pass through the valley in the hands of a caravan of traveling blacksmiths labeled the exact location of Titannus’s fort, Sheep Mountain. It was fascinating to hear the old world names of places he knew. The Meadowlands were once part of what was called Sawtooth Valley, and the Dead Grey Road was known as the highway with the number seventy-five placed upon it.
To the north of the Meadowlands were other farming communities. Justen knew from them that there were other mages farther up the valley under Zarith’s control, but they were only faceless names spoken on the tongues of strangers passing through.
Still, he’d heard many men and women with stories that fit well with what the raider’s dark words had warned of.
Mages who entered the minds of humans to use them as they liked. It was magic beyond the scope of what Payetta and he had ever faced.
“That’s four dead raiders?” came Payetta’s voice from behind. “Let’s find us some more.”
Justen glanced at the bull which was now contentedly grazing on lettuce near the man it had just gored. He turned to Payetta and sheathed his sword. “You’ve spent a lot of energy,” cautioned Justen. “And my shoulder feels like…” A wave of dizziness rushed over him, and Payetta’s hand caught him before he fell.
Payetta’s eyes glowed like a soft blue flame as she held him. She was careful to look away from the two farmers so that they wouldn’t see her eyes. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I should begin the healing.”
“Not here, it’s too dangerous,” replied Justen, biting back the pain. “Titannus is too close. He may have seen us already.”
Jax and Kirk came alongside Justen and Payetta, as did the two young farmers.
“Thank you,” said the man, who Justen guessed to be about he and Payetta’s age. “My sister and I owe you our lives.”
“You have the North Meadow Volunteer Heroes Brigade to thank,” said Jax with a nod. “And that bull over there.”
The young man shook his head. “Never seen Farmer Gerrin’s animal behave that way. It’s not a bull, it’s a steer. Usually it’s as docile as the milk cows.”
Jax gave a dramatic glance at the sky. “Someone was looking out for us today.”
The two farmer’s eyes followed Jax’s gaze upward. Justen smiled. Yes, there was, he thought, but he knew that wasn’t who Jax meant. Jax and everyone else on the team had sworn to keep Payetta’s magic a secret, and so far, they’d managed to succeed in that for the past few years.
“Here comes our slower half,” said Kirk, eyes squinting against the midday sun.
“Everyone all right?” called Old Ferren, huffing along towards them with Ian close behind.
“Justen’s hurting,” said Jax. “And Titannus is here.”
“Titannus!” hissed Ferren, turning to Payetta. “He’ll see your—” Ferren stopped and eyed the two young farmers, then frowned at Payetta. “You’ll be discovered!”
“Did you expect me to sit by and let him have his way with South Meadow? You know me better than that.”
Ferren’s brow drooped like an old dog. “So you knew he was here from the beginning? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I knew you’d try to protect me,” replied Payetta. “Try to stop me from coming out to fight.”
“Try, yes,” said Ferren, “succeed, never.”
“I’m not going to cower before the bastard who killed my family and Justen’s. I’m going to find him, challenge him, and if fate says it’s today, then so be it.”
“Then what’s the plan?” sighed Ferren. “I can’t keep up with you youngins.”
Justen could feel the tension in Payetta’s body. “Go on,” he told her. “I can wait here in this farm. Won’t be hard to play dead if I need to. Got an arrow shaft stuck in me and my shirts a bloody mess.”
Payetta’s eyes softened as the gentle blue glow illuminated them. “We should go back,” countered Payetta, hiding her disappointment well enough. “We’ll make plans for a fresh attack tomorrow, but right now, my husband needs me.”
“A rational plan,” said Old Ferren. “We can have the entire brigade at the—”
A distant scream cut Ferren’s words off. Everyone turned their head south. Justen’s heart churned in his chest at the sight and he knew his time for rational plans was past.
“Go!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As Daeken sprinted across an open field, he knew there was a good chance he would die today. He saw at least one-hundred raiders in the distance surrounding a small, walled village. They were mere specks on the horizon. There were other bodies moving about nearer to him, most of them raiders, some of them helpless villagers fleeing for their lives through fields. In the chaos, it was hard to spot the violators from the victims.
But this was vengeance staring him in the face. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to save everyone he could, or splay from head to toe every soulless bastard he came upon.
Reaching an old farmhouse, he ducked out of the sunlight and slid into the shadows of a rickety old storehouse.
He tried to spot the family of three that had darted off as he brought down their attackers, but they had disappeared, hopefully into the woods where they could hide.
A loud thud sounded from around the opposite side of the building, followed by a heart-wrenching scream.
The hair on Daeken’s neck stood on end. He raced to the edge of the building, then froze before turning the corner. Carefully he peered around the side.
A young boy knelt on the ground, maybe four or five years old. His face was turned up toward a woman whose dress was covered in blood. Two men held her pinned to the side of the storehouse as a third man sat on the ground half-naked, struggling to pull his trousers off. A bloodied sword lay on the ground beside his tunic.
Coarse laughter spilled from the two men holding the woman aloft. The third man swore as he yanked at his pants.
“Can’t get Big Hairy out of his cage?” shouted the man nearest Daeken. Another peal of laughter spewed from the two raider’s lips.
Daeken squinted at the child as he swung around the corner towards the closest man. The boy had seen enough blood for today, but not the right blood. He pulled Wickedbane from its sheath and rushed in. The man nearest him locked eyes for half a second, the sight of the incoming blade unable to register before the cold steel was upon him.
The storehouse served as a chopping block, and Daeken’s sword hewed the man’s head off cleanly at the neck, the blade burying itself in the heavy wood siding as the head tumbled to the ground with a soft thud.
Daeken pulled the sword free, eager to introduce Wickedbane to the second man. He swung fiercely at the raider. The man leapt back, releasing the woman’s arm he’d held pinned, barely evading the tip of Daeken’s sword that cut the air just beyond the reach of his chest. The raider quickly retrieved his sword and lashed out at Daeken. He was large and thick, matching Daeken’s strength and size.
“You’re going to die today, old man. That was a friend you killed.”
Daeken blocked a violent blow from the man and threw a knee into his side as he passed.
“I’m okay with dying today,” replied Daeken and glanced back at the third man who remained oddly tied up in his trousers. “A soulless man like you is already dead. I fight with honor.”
“I’m going to take a shit on your honor.”
The raider loosed a flurry of blows that Daeken skillfully blocked, but this was no dumb brute li
ke the three he’d killed minutes before at the cottage. He had skill and power to match Daeken who knew an elite fighter when he saw one.
“Without honor, you’re just a dipshit with a sword and a dick. And when I kill you, not a soul in the world will mourn your loss or remember you.”
The raider frowned, “Who cares about being remembered when you’re dead?”
“Someone who wanted their life to make a difference in the world. Someone like my ancestor, Terry Henry Walton. His spirit lives on in me. That’s why your blood will soak the ground shortly.”
“Your legends are meaningless out here you deluded old goat.” The man pivoted left and stabbed viciously for Daeken’s thigh. The blow glanced off his leathers hard. Daeken looked down at his leg. Blood trickled from a slit in his pants.
Daeken growled. “Your mother must be proud of her son. Killing and raping about like an animal.”
The raider grinned savagely. “I don’t have a mother. I’m a motherfucker.”
Wickedbane became like fire in his hands. A fire that needed to be unleashed. He again threw a quick look over his shoulder at the third man. The raider was crawling toward the child, his pants still wrapped around his ankles.
The faintest sound of a foot pivoting in the grass rang like a warning bell in Daeken’s ear. He twisted down, dropping his shoulder low and swinging his sword up. The big raider’s powerful thrust stabbed only air and Daeken’s heavy sword met the man’s thigh and opened a wide fleshy path all the way up to the man’s left shoulder.
Wide eyed, the man collapsed backward, blood spilling from the massive wound.
“That’s on behalf of all the mothers you ever touched,” said Daeken. He turned from the dying man to look for the boy. He hoped he’d had enough sense to run away from the raider crawling toward him.
But no. The boy’s head was wrapped under the man’s right arm and a knife was placed at his throat. The raider had yet to find a way to remove his trousers and sat on the grass near where the boy’s mother lay.
The sight of the young boy in the raider’s arms conjured up a memory that stiffened Daeken’s knees.