Seeing her chance, Aliet leapt from the tree, straight towards the ogre below. Her sword sliced neatly through his arm, and she landed behind the ogre at the same time his arm hit the ground. The beast roared in pain, and swung at her with his other arm. She easily ducked the blow, then slashed across the back of his legs with her sword. His legs collapsed underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. Aliet jumped on his back and plunged her sword deep into the beast’s heart.
Logan didn’t react quite as quickly. He and Big Brother were frozen in place, watching Dartan’s attempts at extinguishing himself, the ogre wide-eyed, while Logan had a half-smile stuck on his face. If not for the loose string of drool that dripped from the ogre’s open mouth onto Logan’s face, they might have stayed that way. Logan wiped the spittle from his face, then swung his foot into the ogre’s groin, only wondering for a moment if it would be effective before the howl of pain provided his answer. The ogre’s face turned red, his eyes crossed, and he started to fall forward. Logan grabbed his sword and held it up, impaling the ogre through his bottom jaw as he fell. Logan slid sideways at the last moment to keep from being crushed under the creature.
The flames finally out, Dartan jumped to his feet, scooped up his sword, and … found his help was not needed. Aliet was cleaning the ogre blood from her sword while Logan was still trying to retrieve his. One solid pull and the sword slid out with a sound like being pulled from mud. He planted a foot on the ogre and wiped his blade clean against the creature’s hide before heading over to Dartan.
“Thanks for the distraction,” Logan remarked as he patted out a flame that had jumped to life on Dartan’s back.
“Don’t mention it,” Dartan insisted through clenched teeth.
“Is everyone all right?” Logan asked. Although a bit singed, Dartan was otherwise fine, so he replied with a simple nod.
“Fine,” Aliet answered as she moved closer to inspect Dartan. She was going to make a remark about needing a clothes mending spell before she remembered, “Marcus!”
“Is perfectly fine,” Marcus’s voice called out from dark. “And I don’t think we have anything more to worry about from the ogres,” he added as he moved into camp.
“Which just leaves the group following us,” Logan reminded them.
“And whoever else they decide to send after me,” Dartan said. There was no doubt in any of their minds now, this attack was not about Logan. The ogres knew who Dartan was, and they had been ordered not to harm him.
“We need to get to Kinsley,” Marcus muttered. “Pack up,” he then said, noting the greying sky above. “Time to go.”
Chapter Sixteen
“We’re being followed.” Logan came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the small field. So abrupt, in fact, Aliet and Dartan nearly crashed into him.
Frustrated, Aliet replied, “Not more ogres.”
“No,” he said, oblivious to her irritation. “And it’s not the Northern wizard either.” Marcus moved back to join them.
“Who is it?” Marcus asked, peering into the trees ringing the field.
“Slayers,” he answered, looking behind them.
“How many?” Marcus asked, his lips barely moving.
Logan closed his eyes for a moment, then answered, “Three.” He opened them and added, “Although, that’s just the number of slayers. I have no idea how many other people might be with them.”
Marcus grumbled, but it was Dartan who spoke. “Is this another sort of special ability you possess, or can we assume they know you’re a slayer as well?”
“It’s something we can all do – sense the power in one another, but,” he trailed off for a moment, closing his eyes again. He shook his head. “It’s strange. Either they’re far behind us, or not very powerful.”
“My money would be on the second option.” They all turned, weapons drawn, towards the stranger’s voice. “Although,” he continued, “we haven’t really found it to be much of a hindrance.” The owner of the voice stepped out from behind the trees, and into the field with a broad smile and empty hands. He was barely past being called a boy, but there was no doubt in Logan’s mind he was a slayer. “In fact, I’d say it was a distinct advantage in this case.”
“How do you figure that?” Logan asked.
The smile grew even larger. “We felt you getting close hours ago.” Logan grinned back as he sheathed his sword. If these men had wanted them dead, the attack would have already happened.
His name was Farnir, and he had only the other two slayers with him, both only slightly older than himself. Alain had paid a visit to Kinsley earlier, and told them to expect a small group traveling under his protection. He did not offer introductions of the other two slayers, instead sending them back into the forest.
“The wizard mentioned a slayer was traveling in your group,” Farnir spoke from the front of their small party, a position Marcus had reluctantly ceded to him, even as a simple escort to the village. “You created quite a stir when we began to feel your power,” he said to Logan. He chuckled softly, almost to himself, then looked at Logan as he said, “They weren’t sure whether to welcome you or forbid your entry entirely.”
“We’re still debating that ourselves,” Dartan added.
Logan ignored Dartan and asked, “How many of you are there in the village?”
“Slayers?” Farnir clarified. Logan gave a slight nod. Farnir scratched his head for a moment before deciding, “I’d say about half the village must have some level of the talent.”
“Half?!” Logan and Marcus said in unison.
“It didn’t used to be that way,” Marcus added.
“No, sir, it sure didn’t,” Farnir agreed. “Didn’t start attracting slayers until about ten or fifteen years ago.”
“What do you mean, ‘attracting slayers’?” Logan asked. “What exactly is attracting them?”
Farnir shrugged. “The village, I suppose. My father was one of the first to come. He and my brother had the power, and both just started feeling the pull one day. It was so strong, my father packed up our entire family, left the farm that had been in our family for generations, and headed into the wilderness. When we reached Kinsley, he just stopped.” Farnir suddenly stopped talking, leaving no sound except the rustle of leaves still clinging to the trees and the crunch of dead ones underfoot. When he spoke again his voice was low and slightly strained.
“I hated my father for doing it. Tearing us from the only life we had ever known, for a reason I had no way of comprehending. And I think I hated my brother even more because he could.” The silence returned, heavier than before. It was Farnir who again broke it.
His voice was lighter this time, with almost a laugh behind it. “It would be years before I could understand – before the power developed in me and I felt the pull myself.”
“Wait,” Aliet interrupted. Then, to Logan, “I thought you said it only developed in one son.”
Logan shrugged. “That’s what I was always told.”
Farnir chuckled again. “My father was just as surprised as you. Imagine his reaction when my older sister got the power.” He looked back at a shocked Logan, and added, “Yeah, that was just about the same look he had.”
Logan had a kind of choking cough when he first tried to speak. “Women?” he finally managed to say. “You have women slayers?”
“Not many,” Farnir admitted, “but, yes, there are a few.”
“And what,” asked Aliet, “exactly is the problem with female slayers?”
“Only that it’s never been heard of in recorded history,” Farnir answered.
“Yes!” Logan exclaimed, pointing at Farnir. “That is it, exactly. Thank you.”
“And that’s the only reason?” she pressed, looking directly at Logan.
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” he began, then quickly launched into, “I’ll have you know … whoa.” He stumbled, then dropped to a knee and put a hand to his head.
“Sorry,” Farnir said. “I s
hould’ve warned you about that.”
Aliet rushed to Logan’s side. “What is it? What’ve you done to him?” Marcus put a hand on his sword hilt. Dartan’s hand reached for his own sword, while that new appendage reached out too. It was searching, feeling for something it could use.
“I’m fine,” Logan managed to stammer out a bit breathlessly. Unconvinced, the group remained readied. Logan bowed his head, took a few deep breaths, and then looked up at them. “Really,” he assured them. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?” Aliet asked. She knelt next to him, one hand on his shoulder.
“They caught me off guard,” Logan admitted. “I’ve never felt the presence of so many slayers. It was, quite frankly, overwhelming.” He took a few more deep breaths, then looked at Farnir. “You said about half the town are slayers?”
“That’s right.”
“How big is the town?”
Farnir smiled. “A lot bigger than it used to be. We were just the first to arrive, and they kept coming after us.”
“Can you feel it now?” Dartan asked. “The pull, I mean.”
Farnir was nodding before he even answered. “Yes, it always calls to us.”
Dartan looked towards Logan. “What about you, Logan? Can you feel it?”
Logan closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “No. The only thing I can sense is the presence of slayers.”
“Not all with talent hear the call,” Farnir said.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, rising back to his feet.
Farnir shrugged. “Just what it sounds like. Isn’t it obvious? Otherwise every slayer in Pavlora would be here.”
“Interesting theory,” Logan growled.
“Thanks,” Farnir answered with a smile. “It’s my father’s.”
“Right,” Logan said. “And did he have any ideas about what makes you all so special among slayers?”
Farnir simply stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Special? I’ve always considered it a curse myself.” His smile faded as he turned and began heading north again. “If you’re able, we should continue on to Kinsley now.” He didn’t slow to look back as he added, “Especially if we want to stay ahead of the Northern shadow following you.”
“You already know about them?” Dartan asked.
“There is much we already know, apprentice.” There was emphasis on the last word, as though it were meant as an insult.
“The wizard really has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, doesn’t he,” Logan said as he passed Dartan.
“At least with everyone except us, it seems,” Dartan countered.
“Don’t forget that little fact the next time he decides to grace us with his semipresence.”
Aliet pushed between them, catching up to Farnir, and said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, boys.” She raised her voice, making sure everyone could hear. “I’m sure by ‘we’, what he really meant was the town elders. He’s just repeating what he’s been told. Or, more likely, overheard. Isn’t that right, Farnir?”
He didn’t turn, hiding his flushed cheeks, but the color crept to his ears, betraying him from behind. He simply lowered his head and answered, “Yes, ma’am.” He stuttered only the tiniest bit, but he dared not mumble. Worse than having to admit she was right would be announcing it again, even more loudly.
She did not ask him to repeat himself, instead she flashed a wickedly satisfied grin back at Dartan and Logan. Without another word she quickly caught up with Marcus, who had taken his self-assigned post of half a step behind Farnir.
“She enjoyed that a bit too much, didn’t she?” Logan said to Dartan when he was sure she was too far away to hear.
“Entirely too much,” Dartan agreed with his own grin.
“Do you know what the most disturbing part of that was?” Dartan simply shook his head. “I’m not sure she did that for me.”
Dartan widened his eyes. “You mean you may not have been the center of something that happened while you were actually present?”
“Like I said, disturbing.”
Dartan smiled again. Despite his best efforts, he was afraid Logan might be growing on him.
They were still nearly a half-day away from Kinsley and it wasn’t long before they settled into their typical single-file travel. Moving through the sparse woods required more attention than the worn road they had been on, but Dartan still found his mind wandering from the trail. As his feet dealt with root, rock, and mud, his thoughts turned to Alain.
Where was he? What was he preparing for, and how exactly was he doing it? Did he really expect Dartan to be able to lead this country? The last question stopped his spinning mind, and almost his feet as well. He looked up and noticed where he was – back of the pack. He wasn’t even the leader of this small group. How could he be expected to lead an entire country?
Whether accidentally or unconsciously, Dartan’s foot caught a small, loose stone, sending it skipping across the uneven ground. As he watched it tumble away, he was suddenly filled with a feeling of freedom and exhilaration. It was as if, for an instant, he was the rock, experiencing its unexpected journey first-hand.
Now do it again – with magic.
He picked out a small stone ahead, one that would fit nicely in the palm of his hand. Without thinking about how he wanted to do it, he simply tried tossing it with his mind. At first, it refused to do much more than just roll over. Dartan focused on the feeling, the freedom and joy of that flight, and the thought simply appeared in his head. Rocks want to fly.
He didn’t try encouraging a strong, concentrated wind to pick up the stone, nor did he try to persuade gravity to relax its grip for a brief moment. He simply reached out and lent the stone some power. It took care of the rest.
By the time Dartan had thrown the third stone, Logan could stand it no longer. He had been giving Dartan backward glances since feeling the first inkling of magic, but Dartan hadn’t noticed. With a small huff, Logan stopped walking, allowing Dartan to catch up.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked in a hushed tone.
“What do you mean?” Dartan asked, sending another rock into the trees.
“The magic and the rocks!” While still quiet, there was clearly irritation in his voice. “What do you think you’re doing?” he repeated.
What was he doing, exactly? “Practicing,” he decided. “Think a rock would do any damage to a dragon?”
Logan opened his mouth, drew a breath, then snapped it closed. He glanced ahead at Marcus and Farnir, then, from the corner of his mouth, asked, “How’s your aim?”
Dartan could feel his own smile mirroring Logan’s. “What’d you have in mind?”
Aiming, as it turned out, was much harder than throwing. Throwing was a simple burst or pulse of power, but aiming required constant focus. Logan’s first suggestion of ‘how close can you get to Farnir’s head’ seemed harmless enough. Although, in hindsight, probably not the best choice for a first attempt.
“To be fair,” Dartan whispered, “you didn’t specify ‘without hitting it’.”
“You’re right,” Logan replied. His eyes were on the ground, and his hand rubbed the side of his nose, hiding the smile threatening to turn into a laugh. “That was completely my fault.”
Luckily, it had been a small rock, and Dartan had managed to nudge it from a direct hit to a graze across his shoulder at the last second. It wasn’t enough to make Farnir stop, but he did turn and look behind him. Dartan and Logan were silent, eyes on their boots until Farnir rubbed his arm, shrugged his shoulders, and turned back around.
“So,” Logan whispered, “from now on let’s just assume if I say ‘close’, then I mean ‘without hitting it’.”
“Sure. Fair enough.”
For the next hour Logan would call the shot – top of that tree, leaf on a branch, squirrel – and Dartan would aim for them. It wasn’t long before Dartan discovered he had to do little more than concentrate on the
target to deliver the stone to it. In response, Logan increased the rate at which he called out the shots. The result was a perpetual shower of rocks in the forest surrounding their small party. Unaware of the target practice behind them, Marcus and Farnir were both getting very nervous about all the noise.
By the end of that hour Dartan was starting to feel the strain. His mind wanted to wander even as he guided the rock to its target.
“Alright,” Dartan finally said after buzzing a passing bird. “One more throw and I’m going to need a break.”
“You actually lasted a lot longer than I expected,” Logan admitted. He nodded towards Farnir and Marcus as he added, “They could probably use a break, too. I’m surprised they haven’t twisted their heads off yet.”
Marcus had drawn his sword at some point during their practice, holding it in front of him as they walked. Farnir had done the same with his dagger and walked nearly back-to-back next to Marcus. Aliet spotted the guilty grins Dartan and Logan were now wearing, and decided to stop and let them catch up. Logan flashed her a broad smile, but it did nothing to soften her stern features.
“I don’t know what you two are up to,” she said, falling into step beside Dartan, “but it needs to stop.”
“Calm down, sweetheart,” Logan said. “The men are just back here practicing a little magic.” The fire smoldering in her eyes came to a full blaze, but Logan was oblivious. “We’re almost done, so you can stop worrying.” It was the first time Dartan had ever seen her too angry to even speak. Her mouth opened and closed, but the words refused to get in line and file out, instead all fighting to come out at once.
On his other side, Logan continued, “For this last one we should really try something difficult.” Dartan simply nodded while Logan looked around. He pointed to a fist-sized rock on the ground ahead of them. “That rock,” he said, then pointed to a tree behind them. “Bounce it off that tree, then,” he spun back around, and pointed to some bushes ahead, “through those bushes.” His finger went to his chin as he looked around, and as he finished calling the route, Dartan felt himself getting dizzy. “Swing it back around that squirrel, slingshot off that branch, and, finally, pulverize it against that boulder ahead of us.”
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