[Ergoth 01] - A Warrior's Journey

by Paul B. Thompson

  “The sum of my life’s work,” the wizard said drily.

  Tol gripped his weapons hard, pondering the sum of his own life. What did he have? A chest of gold coins, an old house, and the patronage of the future emperor of Ergoth—a man married to the woman Tol loved. Was that all he’d accomplished in his short life?

  “Tol!” Kiya shouted. “Don’t leave us down here! I want to fight too!”

  “Aren’t you going to answer her?” asked Mandes.

  “Not this time,” he said.

  That was something else he had, the Dom-shu sisters. Wives in name only perhaps, hut faithful and honorable companions. He would do his best to die honorably for them.

  The clatter of many limbs grew louder. Several times Tol thought he saw movement in the shadows, but could discern nothing tangible. The sulfur vapors were making his head and chest hurt. If XimXim simply waited, the fumes would do his work for him. Yet Tol doubted there was much danger of that. The monster enjoyed killing too much to miss an opportunity to cleanse his home of invaders.

  The drifting streams of smoke suddenly parted, revealing an enormous triangular head, half as wide as the tunnel. In the dull ruddy glow and tight confines of the cave, XimXim looked even more monstrous. The black pupils in his huge eyes swung round until they fixed on the two men. Two pairs of sharp palps clacked, as though eager to taste blood.

  Tol felt a sharp stab of fear in the pit of his stomach. He could face any number of human foes with equanimity, but this creature was an abomination, an unnatural and terrifying evil.

  Mandes shakily fell to his knees. At first Tol thought he was praying, but the sorcerer was simply adopting a more convenient posture for throwing his tiny arsenal of balms and vapors.

  XimXim made a high-pitched noise and drew his lethal forearms slowly forward.

  “May I?” said Mandes politely.

  “By all means!”

  The wizard chose one of the wooden tubes. Pulling the plug with his teeth, he flung it toward the monster. As soon as it left his hand, he intoned, “Ama, Ama, Kozom-dosh!”

  The tube hit the floor in front of the oncoming creature. At once a bright blue, viscous tendril popped out. It spread rapidly across the floor, sprouting new tendrils as it went. Surprised, XimXim halted his advance.

  The azure creeper climbed the walls and formed a web of glittering filaments, filling the lower half of the tunnel. XimXim threw up an arm, intending to slash the web apart.

  “That’s right,” Mandes muttered. “Touch it! Go ahead!”

  XimXim did not slice through the tendrils. Instead, the filaments stuck fast to him and continued to grow, moving up his leg. He backed away. Although the blue web stretched with distance, it did not break. In no time, his front leg was covered.

  “Wonderful!” shouted Tol, relief washing over him.

  XimXim retreated a bit, but the weird substance clung to him. Instead of using his other arm to try to cut himself loose, he brought his entangled limb to his mouth and began to chew the blue tendrils.

  Tol hoped the monster’s mouth would become glued shut, but that was not the case. The palps worked and worked. Saliva dripped from the fast-moving fangs. The blue tendrils were shortly reduced to bits which fell inertly to the floor.

  While the monster was thus occupied, Tol decided to attack. Knowing he couldn’t break through XimXim’s natural armor, he adopted a new tactic.

  “Keep it busy!” he shouted to Mandes.

  He dodged between XimXim’s many legs, dropping low beneath the creature’s underbelly. Here the dark green armor faded almost to white. With both hands on the hilt, Tol thrust his sword hard at the monster’s abdomen. There was resistance for a moment, then the thin shell gave. Green blood, black as ink in the dim cave, gushed over Tol’s hands. XimXim snapped violently from side to side, tearing the saber from Tol’s hands.

  Mandes picked up one of his Balm of Sirrion pills and pressed it lightly between his palms. Uttering an incantation, he rolled the soft wax pellet across the stone floor. It stopped just short of the blue web and dissolved into a patch of white mist.

  Flexing his six legs, XimXim brought his ponderous abdomen down hard, seeking to crush his tormentor. Tol rolled aside, grabbing his sword hilt and yanking it free. The creature tried twice more to quash him, but Tol evaded him.

  By now Mandes’s mist was filling the tunnel. In response to Kiya’s shouted demands, the magician retreated to the edge of the precipice and gave the Dom-shu a terse account of the battle.

  “Get me up there and let me have a crack at him!” Kiya roared.

  “Sorry, lady, there’s no time. Ah! He’s bitten through the Phoenix Web!”

  Mandes threw the second wooden tube, but this time XimXim saw it coming and batted it away. It sailed back over Mandes’s head into the pit. The wizard watched its fall with wide-eyed alarm.

  “Uh-oh…”

  Tol crawled on his belly until he emerged behind the monster. He could see XimXim’s bulbous abdomen waving in the fog as the beast attempted again and again to crush him. When the body dropped once more, Tol ran and sprang. He landed on the monster’s back.

  XimXim, free at last of the clinging blue tendrils, whirled in a complete circle when he felt Tol’s weight on him. Tol slid over the hard armor, only halting his fall by driving his dagger into a hairline gap between the plates covering XimXim’s wings. More ichor oozed from the new wound, but Tol had found a secure handhold.

  XimXim went berserk with pain and outrage. He ran up the tunnel’s side, his clawed feet easily keeping their grip. Tol tried to hang on, but when the monster turned him upside down, he lost his hold and fell to the floor. XimXim promptly let go and with astonishing agility twisted in mid-air to drop on top of his human antagonist. Quick reflexes saved Tol’s life. XimXim’s armored feet struck sparks off the hard floor, but just missed the young warrior as he scrambled clear.

  The monster’s frantic movement had brought it closer to Mandes and the rim of the pit. Snatching up two clay pills, the panicked sorcerer hurled them at XimXim. One after the other they detonated in a silent flash. Mandes was blinded, and on the ledge below, the Dom-shu were dazzled. The flash instantly dispersed the magical mist and the remnants of the blue webbing, leaving the tunnel clear and open.

  Fortunately, XimXim’s bulk protected Tol from the eye-searing blast of light. The young warrior’s vision went red in the glare, but he didn’t lose his sight. XimXim, though, was stricken sightless. The terrified monster charged back and forth, butting his head against the granite walls. Shards of rock and dust fell, and Tol feared the crazed creature might bring the whole mountain down on them.

  Tol retrieved his sword, dropped when he fell from XimXim’s back. Gripping it in both hands, he stalked toward the monster. Blood ran down his face from cuts in his scalp. His arms were raw from scraping against the cave walls and floor.

  On the other side of XimXim, Mandes groped for the last weapon at his disposal. His fingers found the glass cruet, but there hardly seemed any point to this last throw. If Balm of Sirrion, the Phoenix Web, and thunderflash powder had failed, what good would Oil of Luin do? It was all he had left.

  The wax seal was hard, and Mandes couldn’t pry the glass stopper out. He could hear XimXim raging, feet pounding and palps grating, the sound reverberating through the tunnel. He had no idea what had become of Tol.

  XimXim inadvertently kicked the prostrate wizard, a stunning blow. The cruet flew from Mandes’s fingers. Tol saw it sail through the air and shatter on impact. The contents spattered on the floor, shiny as quicksilver. He tensed for some big effect, but the liquid merely lay there. Mandes must not have had time to speak the proper words of power.

  XimXim’s vision was returning. Having accidentally located the wizard, he turned to snip him into pieces. He hoisted the unconscious wizard high, holding his arm fast in the crook of one claw—

  “Juramona! Juramona!”

  Shouting to distract the beast, Tol ran under an
arch of green legs, turned, and thrust his saber hard into XimXim’s gut. The creature convulsed in agony, his front legs twitching spasmodically. Mandes’s left arm was severed at the shoulder.

  XimXim dropped the sorcerer and lurched away from his attacker, tearing the sword from Tol’s hand. Tol’s dagger was still buried in XimXim’s back. The young warrior was weaponless now.

  Fluids green and black gushed from the monster’s belly wounds. XimXim opened his wings part way, but there was no room in the tunnel for flight. He staggered closer to the edge of the chasm. His middle legs trod on the Oil of Luin and promptly slid out from under him. He fell heavily on the thin pool of oil and slid toward the rim of the pit. Unable to stop himself, legs flailing, the monster skidded over the edge.

  Kiya and Miya cried out when they saw the huge monster plunge by their narrow perch. It tried to spread its wings, but failed, and, helpless, clacking his palps in terror, XimXim plummeted into the pit. The awful noise he made was cut off abruptly when he splashed into the pool of molten rock far below.

  A thick column of white smoke rose from the pit, filling the tunnel. The Dom-shu choked and gasped. Kiya had been hammering the rock wall with the pommel of Miya’s sword to make shallow toeholds. She began to climb.

  When Kiya gained the tunnel floor above, she spied Tol kneeling by Mandes, working feverishly. Both men were covered, as was she herself, with a layer of white ash from XimXim’s immolation. She crawled to Tol, and he didn’t even flinch when she appeared suddenly at his elbow.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “The monster cut off his arm. I’ve made a tourniquet, but I fear it’s too late!”

  “Let me,” she said. “Help Miya.” Her hands were scored bloody from her climb, but she took over with the tourniquet. Beneath its coating of ash, Mandes’s face was pale as wax. His lips were purple in the red light of the tunnel.

  “Miya!” Tol called, crawling on his hands and knees to the edge of the pit.

  Miya still had the rawhide rope tied around her, so she tossed the free end to him. It took four tries, but he finally caught it and hauled her up. By the time she reached the top, her face was stiff with pain.

  “Mind that silver stuff,” he said, indicating the magical oil. “That’s what did in the monster.”

  “Poison?” she asked.

  “Bad luck.”

  Tol left her lying on the floor, nursing her cracked ribs, and went back to Kiya. She was threading a needle with a length of sinew, supplies from the kit she used to mend tears in her buckskins.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Sewing up his wound. Have you never seen it done? In the woodland, we often do it to gaping injuries.”

  He watched, fascinated, as she used deer sinew to close Mandes’s terrible wound. It took time, but when she eased off the tourniquet, no blood flowed from the stump of the wizard’s arm.

  “Now, let me see you,” she said.

  He waved away her concern. “I’m fine.”

  Kiya took Tol’s head in her strong hands and glared at him, looking like a stern ghost in her coating of ash. “I’ll tell you when you’re fine!” she said. “After all, what’s a wife for but to bind her husband’s wounds?”

  Chapter 20

  A Place by the Sea

  The moons had set and sunrise was still a few hours off as the victors picked their way carefully down the mountain from XimXim’s cave. Tol and Kiya carried the badly wounded Mandes. Miya followed, slowly and painfully, clutching her sides. They saw no one in the gully at the foot of the mountain. Bloodstained rocks and charred earth gave evidence of the battle that had raged in their absence, yet all was quiet now.

  Lowering Mandes’s limp body to the ground, Tol cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, “Juramona! Juramona!”

  The bushes stirred, and soldiers emerged. Some had their heads bandaged, or wore an arm in a sling. Seeing their commander, they raised a glad shout.

  “The monster is dead!” Tol yelled.

  The jubilant noise became a deafening tumult. Waving swords and spears, the soldiers engulfed them. A few ran down the ravine to inform the rest of their comrades. Tol ordered saplings cut to make litters for Mandes and Miya, then slumped to the stony earth. He sat with arms propped on his knees, head hanging tiredly. Something firm pressed against his back. Kiya had adopted the same posture, her back to his. He relaxed slightly against the welcome support.

  The defile soon was full of happy, shouting men. The Ergothians cheered Tol so incessantly he gruffly ordered them to cease.

  His officers soon got the troops in order. Torches were lit. Tarthan, Wellax, Allacath, and Frez sorted the men into companies and had them lined up in proper formation by the time Egrin arrived with the balance of the demi-horde.

  Egrin, Darpo, Sanksa, and Fellen came forward and saluted. Tol lifted a hand and Darpo, his scarred face wreathed in smiles, hoisted him to his feet. Kiya rose as well, on the arm of Sanksa.

  “My lord, I rejoice to see you!” said Egrin.

  “I rejoice to be seen,” was Tol’s sincere reply.

  “XimXim is destroyed?” Tol nodded. “Then this is a great day!” Egrin proclaimed.

  In truth, Tol did not find it so. He was very glad to be alive, and happy the Dom-shu sisters and Mandes lived, but he wasn’t exactly proud of his victory.

  “It wasn’t a battle, it was a bloody farce,” he growled. “We went up there just to have a look around! We had no plan. We just fought for our lives and managed to win—barely!”

  Egrin nodded. “There’s no antidote for victory. It often leaves a bitter taste.” He told Tol of their losses in XimXim’s attack.

  Narren’s death hit the young commander hard. He stood with eyes closed until the burning in them subsided.

  When the litters were ready, Miya and Mandes rested a bit more comfortably. Frez, who as a boy had apprenticed to a sawbones in Caergoth, wrapped a tight linen bandage around Miya’s ribs. It was the only treatment he knew for her condition. After a few drafts of strong wine, though, the Dom-shu woman fell asleep.

  In addition to his arm, Mandes had lost a great deal of blood, but he was still breathing, thanks to Kiya’s timely attention. Frez had a strengthening broth of bone marrow, herbs, and red wine prepared, and a soldier was appointed to spoon small amounts between the sorcerer’s slack lips.

  Kiya washed the ash from her hands and face, and ate cold rations from a leather pouch. By this time the rising sun was beginning to color the eastern sky and Tol realized he was ravenous. He cleaned up and broke his fast.

  A young soldier brought Cloud. Muscles aching, Tol swung into the saddle. Seeing Kiya limping along, he held out his hand. “Will you ride, lady?”

  “A Dom-shu walks,” she replied proudly.

  “Get on and spare your feet.”

  To everyone’s surprise, she did just that. She cut a curious figure, seated behind Tol. Her arms and legs were covered in cuts and scratches, and she was a head taller than her ostensible husband. At first, she looked uncomfortable on Cloud, but soon leaned her head on Tol’s shoulder and fell asleep.

  “What now, my lord?” asked Egrin.

  Tol said, “Back to Hylo town. We’ll rest there a day, then march to the coast. By now Lord Urakan should have reached Old Port. The Tarsans will not sit and wait for him to find them. I mean to join our companies to his army.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Egrin gave the orders, and the foot soldiers assembled in marching formation. They should reach Hylo City by late afternoon.

  * * * * *

  Word of XimXim’s demise spread ahead of the Ergothians. The journey out from Hylo’s capital had been desolate and lonely; the return was like a festival. Kender turned out in droves, lining the road to cheer the Ergothians. Lacking flowers so late in the season, they stripped off the most colorful leaves from nearby trees and spread them before Tol’s horse.

  Riding alongside his commander, Egrin said drily, “V
ictors are always popular.”

  Kiya, still mounted behind Tol, eyed the cheering crowd with distrust. “Just keep an eye on your valuables. Kender are even more dangerous when friendly!”

  The soldiers did lose equipment to kender “curiosity”—haversacks, gauntlets, a few mantles—but nothing vital. By the time the Ergothians entered Hylo town, the crowds were tremendous. None of the soldiers, not even the oldest and most experienced, had any idea there were so many kender in all of Hylo. Little people cheered from every window, some waving bits of scarlet cloth tied to sticks, like miniature imperial banners. Kender children ran alongside the marching column.

  “XimXim is de-ad! XimXim is de-ad!” they chanted, drawing the last word into two syllables.

  Their procession bore left into the main square, packed from side to side by the shouting throng. The mob had left a clear lane across the square. It led straight to the door of the royal residence, where Tol halted the column.

  “Looks like we’re expected!” Egrin shouted over the din.

  Tol nodded. “We represent the empire—let’s pay our respects to the king.” He looked back over his shoulder at the unmoving line of men. “Find Darpo! Tell him to join us up front.”

  Soon, the former sailor rode through the double line of soldiers to Tol’s side. Tol raised his hand to signal the soldiers forward. The kender took this as a greeting and let out a high-pitched roar of delight. Tol managed a smile, then waved his men to follow between the two walls of cheering kender.

  Hylo’s royal residence was no bigger than any other house on the square. Three stories high, built of cut stone, and half-timbered, the residence was guarded by a detachment of the Royal Loyal Militia. These seventeen kender were dressed in a hodge-podge of military finery—Ergothian iron helmets, Tarsan octagonal shields, mantles in the Silvanesti style. Their weapons were the usual swords and spears, though reduced in size for kender. According to Lord Urakan, the kender imported weapons from the dwarves of Thorin, so the implements were likely made of very good iron and bronze.