Immortal Swordslinger 4

by Dante King

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Flight technique sparked around my feet, fed with the energy of my surroundings. The sun’s heat, the warmth of my own body, even the core of the earth itself was in a constant state of flux. And I could use it all.

  My feet lifted from the ground, and I leveled myself out like a bullet. I shot away after Mahrai’s sprinting golem and reached them a few seconds later. Vesma, her face green, clung to the golem’s head as I slowed my pace to match theirs.

  “Doesn’t look like the smoothest ride ever,” I commented.

  “Sh-shut up,” Vesma managed.

  Mahrai stretched comfortably out beside her. “It just takes some getting used to.”

  I rotated around to check our progress. A slow trickle of Vigor slipped out of my personal reserves, but thankfully the Vigor around me was more than enough to keep Flight working until we reached the castle.

  Mahrai’s eyes combed over me in fascination as I let the power of the technique carry me effortlessly through the air.

  “I can’t imagine how that must feel,” she called out.

  I shrugged. “It’s pretty good. You never know, you might figure it out yourself.”

  Mahrai snorted. “I doubt it. You doing okay over there, Vesma?”

  Vesma gritted her teeth and nodded. Our path took us past the edges of Danibo Forest, and in less than an hour, Mahrai’s golem had reached the farmer’s fields near the mouth of the valley. I directed the golem toward the road and gained some altitude to get a better vantage point. I halted a hundred feet in the air and scanned the buildings for any sign of an attack.

  The village was a small affair and probably didn’t house any more than a hundred people. Simple dwellings were neatly arranged around a central square of land. An ancient stone well stood out in the center of it. People milled through the village, going about their daily tasks as though nothing was out of the ordinary. A few of the women fled from their washing lines as Mahrai’s golem closed in toward the edge of the houses. I swooped downward, drew level with Mahrai, and waved to get her attention.

  “Pull up by the well!” I called to her.

  “Aren’t we in a hurry?” Mahrai demanded.

  I nodded to Vesma, who looked greener than she had before. The ride on the golem obviously wasn’t doing her any good. Mahrai tapped the golem’s marble skin, and it slowed its pace to a walk as we reached the edge of the village. I cut the flow of Flight through my channels and landed beside a well-worn house of stone with a thatched roof. Looking relieved, Vesma straightened up as we marched to the center of the village. The locals halted their work and stared at us in astonishment.

  “I suppose you do look rather strange to them,” Choshi observed. “Big stone creature, two women, and a man who just fell out of the sky in a flash of flame.”

  I took in the details of the village. Their crops were a variant of wheat that I’d only heard about the Seven Realms, and their primary source of water was probably the wells and the local rainfall as it rolled in off the mountains. A gaggle of children appeared from the nearest house, dressed in roughly spun cotton clothes. Their little faces lit up in wonder at the sight of our weapons and the hulking golem beside us. Mahrai muttered something to herself as they skirted closer to her minion. A little girl with blond locks touched the leg daringly and sprang away from it as Mahrai growled at her.

  “Be nice,” Vesma told her. “They’re just kids.”

  Vesma slid off the golem with a warm smile. “Good morning.”

  “Are you Vesma?” a small kid with a bowl cut asked.

  It seemed the members of Radiant Dragon were known throughout Flametongue Valley. No doubt this child had seen Vesma during the exhibition match.

  “That’s me,” Vesma said. “This is Mahrai. There’s no need for alarm. She’s a friend.”

  A smith and two farmers appeared from a small tavern to my left. They were strongly built men, burned from the sun and calloused from a lifetime of hard labor. I strode over to meet them as the children shouted in excitement and clustered around the golem. Unless I missed my guess, there was trouble coming. And I wasn’t about to leave the people of Flametongue Valley in the dark if I could help it. I also preferred a little more information before marching into the castle, and these villagers might have some.

  “Ethan Murphy lo Pashat,” I said, by way of introduction.

  The smith bared a grin with a few missing teeth. “Well met, Swordslinger. My name’s Baldwell. That little exhibition of yours against Guildmaster Xilarion was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “You honor me.”

  “He simply speaks the truth,” grunted one of the farmers. “Baldwell, get the man a beer. I’m Gerramund, Swordslinger. Most people around here call me Gerry. How can we help you?”

  Baldwell vanished back into the tavern, and I took Gerry’s hand with a firm grasp. “We’re tracking down rumors of conflict in Wysaro Castle. Have you seen or heard anything?”

  “Can’t say we have,” the other farmer cut in. “I’m Darris.”

  I shook his hand with another confident grin. “No trouble on the borders? You haven’t heard any word of activity in Danibo Forest, or up in the city?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” Darris assured me. “We’d have been sure to hand it on to the Wysaro patrols. They’ve been quiet of late, but aside from that, there’s nothing to report.” The farmer glanced up at the distant peaks and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You said something about conflict. Are we in trouble?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But you’d do well to keep your family close and fortify your houses, just in case. Bar the doors, barricade the windows, and keep a blade close to hand, if you have one.”

  Gerry raised a shaggy eyebrow. “That bad?”

  “It could be,” I said. “I didn’t come to alarm you, and I can’t say for sure if there is trouble brewing. But it won’t hurt to take precautions, just in case.”

  “Do it again!” a child shouted in excitement.

  I turned to the source of the commotion. Vesma raised her hands with a happy grin, and streamers of fire burst from her fingertips. They glided out into twisting ribbons, and the children cheered wildly as she entertained them with magic. I bit back a laugh as two little girls tied a garland of flowers around Mahrai’s neck. Her face softened as one of them whispered something to her, and a wry smile crossed Mahrai’s face as she patted the kid awkwardly on the shoulder and said something in return.

  Baldwell appeared from the tiny tavern with a tankard of ale. A pair of steel-studded leather bracers swung from his other hand as he offered me the drink. I inclined my head in thanks, chugged down the cool ale, and wiped my mouth appreciatively.

  “That’s some damn fine beer,” I said.

  “The best in Flametongue Valley,” Gerry said proudly. “We’d be glad to house you and your companions for as long as you need us to, Swordslinger. It would be an honor to have you stay with us, if your Path allows it.”

  I handed the tankard back to Baldwell, who offered me the bracers.

  “He’s busy, Gerry, can’t you see?” the smith said to his friend. “The children seem to have the others well-compensated with gifts, but this is all I have to offer to you.”

  I eyed the bracers as he held them out to me. “They look like good craftsmanship. But I can’t take them off your hands. A young lad in the village might need them more than me.”

  Baldwell shook his head. “They were my son’s. He died in the fight against the Wysaros last year. Something that you took a strong hand in. If not for you and Guildmaster Xilarion, Jiven would have torn through the valley like a wildfire and brought us all to our knees.”

  Sadness weighed on me as I considered the bracers. “Then they’re a keepsake. A reminder. I don’t want to take your son’s belongings away from you, even if it’s offered as a gift.”

  “He’d want you to have them, Swordslinger,” Baldwell said quietly
. “He was a lucky young lad. Born with Augmenting. Hells, he’d never shut up about how impressive you were when he was training at Radiant Dragon. Please, do us the honor.”

  “A gift given like this has power, Master,” Yono whispered. “Something far stronger than mere Augmentation. Do not do this poor man a disservice. Bear his son’s armor with pride.”

  I bowed and took the bracers. They had a comfortable weight to them. Simple leather braided itself around steel plates designed to deflect damage to the forearms. I’d never made a habit of wearing actual armor in the Seven Realms before, but Baldwell’s encouraging nod was all I needed to change that. I fixed the bracers around my forearms. They were a little too long, and the padding covered the tops of my hands, but with a little adjustment, I rearranged the armor until it sat comfortably on my arms.

  “It’s an honor,” I told Baldwell. “I’ll wear them with pride.”

  “Another drink, Swordslinger?” Baldwell asked quietly.

  “Time grows short,” Nydarth warned me.

  “If I find the time, I’ll certainly be back for a barrel,” I said with a smile, “but we need to move on. If you have any way of contacting the other villages, let them know that we came through and to keep their houses secure, particularly at night.”

  “We’ll send out a rider as soon as we’re able,” Gerry assured me. “Safe travels, Swordslinger. Tread your Path with pride.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thanks again.”

  I turned back to the golem. Mahrai sat on its knee, gently trading punches with an enthusiastic young boy, and Vesma danced around the others with grace and good humor. She beamed at me as I approached and turned back to the kids. They went quiet as she addressed them seriously.

  “Now, remember, little ones, you must listen to your parents.”

  “Awww, do we have to?” a short kid with a pudgy belly asked. “All the time?”

  “All the time,” Vesma assured him. “That’s how I became an Augmenter.”

  Their faces brightened suddenly, and Vesma nodded to the houses. “Back you go.”

  The village’s children trailed back to the houses. They skipped, danced, and some of them even sparred with each other. The boy with the bowl cut tried to chop at his little sister, but she just turned and fixed him with a withering look that made him back down immediately. I turned my attention back to the others.

  Mahrai fingered the floral garland around her neck.

  “It looks great,” I told her. “Really brings out the confusion in your eyes.”

  Mahrai growled under her breath.

  “She couldn’t figure out why they wanted to be around her,” Vesma said with a conspiratorial stage whisper. “But it turns out that all of them want a golem as a friend.”

  The golem shifted as Mahrai climbed on her back. “I hear you talking down there, Vesma, and I’d like to remind you that I’m the one who controls the pace here. So, unless you really want to spend the next two hours throwing up into the fields, I suggest you cut it out.”

  Vesma’s face tightened, but she didn’t quite lose her smile.

  “Those are new,” she observed, with a nod at my arms.

  “A gift from the people of the village,” I said. “We should leave, before they start loading us down with beer. I’d hate to see what the three of us could do to their cellars.”

  Vesma climbed up beside Mahrai, and the golem trotted out of the small village. It broke into a full sprint as we cleared the houses. I activated Flight again and kept up with the golem’s cracking pace as it thundered over the road toward the mountains.

  We made good time across the floor of the valley toward Wysaro Castle. Mahrai skirted her golem around two more villages as the morning bled into late afternoon. I’d have liked to stop, especially after our last meeting with the locals of Flametongue Valley, but Nydarth was right. Time was of the essence, and we couldn’t afford to slow down now. I had to trust that Gerry would keep his word and send out a rider to the other villages.

  “They’ll be fine,” Choshi said. “You’ll stop whatever’s going on, Master.”

  I grimaced as a nightmare scenario crossed my mind. Hundreds of demons streaming down from the mountains to wreak havoc on the defenseless villages and bringing death and destruction right to the gates of Wysaro City.

  “You won’t let it happen,” Nydarth said. “You’ve dealt with demons before, Master. This is no different than last time. Look at your wives. They ride beside you with absolute confidence. Your newfound power will give you everything you need.”

  “This is bigger than us now,” I pointed out. “We’ve fought to the death before. But if we let a single demon through our fingers, it could tear through an entire village by itself.”

  “And what of Qihin City? Was it different then?” Yono asked.

  “You can still kill regular monsters with weapons,” I said. “Augmentation makes it easier, sure. But it takes a strong Augmenter to deal with a single demon, let alone an entire army of them.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you sent the others on to the guild, isn’t it?” Yono said.

  I knew Kegohr, Faryn, and Kumi were more than capable of organizing the guild if our worst fears were realized. There wasn’t any point in worrying. It hadn’t helped me in the past.

  Mahrai waved me over, and I adjusted my flight path until I drew level with her. The late afternoon sun washed over us as it peeked out from its descent over the mountains.

  “What’s up?”

  “We’re almost there,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I turned my eyes upward and saw a small stone outpost at the base of the mountain. I gained some altitude and scouted out the area ahead. Wysaro Castle loomed over us from the mountain, and a rudimentary elevator system hung from the base of one of the tall spires. Six guards in the Wysaro tabard stood around a wide platform designed to hoist travelers or visitors to the castle up into its depths. There was no sign of black-furred demons, monks with shaved heads, or a darkened shrine like I’d run across in Danibo Forest.

  I glided lower to match the pace of the golem. “Six guards, no signs of trouble,” I said to Vesma and Mahrai.

  “Could this whole thing have been a ruse?” Vesma asked.

  “I doubt it,” I said grimly. “But we’ll play it carefully from here on out. Mahrai, can you summon the golem again? Or do you have to wait another day to pull him up?”

  A smirk flitted across her face. “It’s multiple times a day now.”

  “Then dispel your golem,” I said. “We’ll approach the castle on foot. No sense scaring them if we don’t have to. And you can always summon the golem again if we need it.”

  The golem pulled to a halt. When Mahrai flicked her fingers, her bone-white golem dissolved into dust. I landed beside the others, tightened the leather straps of my harness, and led the way toward the outpost near the elevator.

  The guards started forward as we approached them, and I took in the details. Black leather armor gleamed in the afternoon sun. Their knuckles whitened around pikes and swords, and the lone archer of the group nocked an arrow to his bow as I gestured for my friends to halt. A mountain breeze ruffled the grass around our feet, and I measured the distance between the contingent of guards and our position. We were roughly 20 yards away. Plenty of distance to use Augmentation if this went badly.

  “You have all of the advantages,” Nydarth agreed.

  “What is your business here?” demanded the captain of the guards. His eagle-shaped badge of office glinted as he leaned on his spear and studied us with narrow eyes. “Clan Wysaro has closed its doors to visitors.”

  “Cinder Wysaro sent us a letter,” I said. “She called for assistance at Wysaro Castle.”

  Vesma held up the bloodstained scroll, and the captain of the guard peered at it. A frown touched his face, and he murmured something to the others. Their body language shifted from tense to downright hostile, and they marched closer. Two of the guards recoil
ed as they spotted the weapons on my back, but the captain growled an order, and they fell back into formation without a second thought.

  “You’re not needed here, Swordslinger,” the captain said. “Cinder Wysaro has been outed from the clan and exiled in disgrace. She’s been found guilty of treason against her family. Her letter is of no concern to us, and you have no business here.”

  “You always find the most charming guards,” Nydarth commented inside my head.

  “Mm,” Yono agreed. “They are quite rude.”

  “Under whose authority?” Vesma asked. “Cinder Wysaro is the highest ranking noble of the clan. And I doubt she exiled herself. What’s really going on here?”

  The captain smiled unpleasantly. “Official clan business, missy. Go home to your husband and make him a cup of tea, won’t you? I said it before. You’re not needed here.”

  Mahrai and Vesma glanced at me, and I took another step forward. The guards shifted nervously as I halted 10 feet away from the captain and met his gaze with cold eyes.

  “Answer the question,” I said. “Under whose authority?”

  “Jiven Wysaro,” the man said, matter-of-factly. “The ruling head of the Wysaro Clan.”

  Jiven had returned to Flametongue Valley, then. The last I’d heard of him, the lord of the clan had fled after the battle at the Radiant Dragon Guild House, after turning his son into an Augmented freak of nature. He was a power-hungry megalomaniac who was absolutely convinced that control of the guild would help unite the Empire. Demons in Danibo Forest, a missing group of monks, and now, the disgraced Lord Wysaro?

  I doubted that this was just a series of coincidences. If Jiven had truly returned, then we needed to find him. And fast.

  The captain’s face tightened as I pulled my warhammer from my harness and gave it a few experimental swings. “Here’s how this is going to go,” I said. “You’re going to get out of our way, or we’re going to walk straight through whatever’s left of you and use that elevator.”