"Myn! No! Not now!" Myranda called out uselessly. She hurried after her friend, following the deep claw marks left by her sprint. This could not have happened at a worse time.
Minutes of running as fast as her legs could carry her had aggravated her ailing lungs severely. She stopped briefly to catch her breath, leaning against a tree. When she took her hand away, she felt something sticky. She looked to the culprit and found her hand reddened with blood. Fresh blood. She rushed on, determined to not to stop until she found her dragon and the thing that had stirred her so. There was danger afoot.
Myranda stumbled into a clearing. She could barely breathe. Her eyes scanned the surroundings. It was a gruesome sight. Soldiers, Elites, a dozen or more, were scattered about the ground. They had been slaughtered, armor pierced and torn. It was as though a wild animal had been let loose upon them. The sight brought painful memories of the battleground she had stumbled through when Myn had run last time, though now the injuries seemed somehow more savage. These were not the clean slices of a sword, but the horrid punctures and tears of a spear or a lance.
The bodies, like the blood she had stumbled upon earlier, were fresh. They had likely been killed just as the sun was setting earlier that day. At the opposite edge of the clearing was Myn. She was nosing a figure that was hunched against a tree. It was difficult to tell just what it was that she was looking at when she finally approached it, so covered was it in all manner of injuries. Perhaps it was some sort of monster. It had arms and legs like a man, and some shreds of clothing, but the numerous tears showed a horrid red fur. Myn was blocking the head, but from what Myranda could see, this creature was as dead as the soldiers that littered the area.
"Myn, get away from there! We need to leave this place--now!" Myranda ordered.
Myn looked up pleadingly. Slowly, the fallen creature weakly raised a hand and placed it on the neck of the dragon. It was alive! Myranda dropped to her knees and more closely inspected the stricken creature. As she did so, it managed to raise its head.
"L-Leo?" Myranda cried out, as the battered face of the malthrope she had met so many months ago stared vaguely back.
"Leo, what happened? Did the soldiers do this to you?"
The near-dead malthrope tried to focus on the hazy form in front of him. His free hand grasped painfully at a cruel-looking rusty spike, nearly as long as his arm and clearly the weapon that had taken the lives of the other soldiers.
"You? Myranda . . ." he said, before drifting into a weak, delirious laugh that ended in a series of coughs. "Irony . . ."
His head dropped back into unconsciousness. Myranda clutched her gem and surveyed his wounds. Many deep slashes striped his arms and chest. The fresh injuries were joined by recent scars, as well as every stage of healing in between. He must have been under constant attack for weeks, or longer. Aside from the lacerations, his legs appeared to have been broken and poorly healed. One eye was swollen shut, a crust of dried blood showing between the lids. An ear had been slit all the way through. In truth, there was not a part of his body that did not suffer from some malady or another. Even the long hair that he'd displayed when she first met him had been rendered a scraggly mess, as though it had been cut away with a dull blade. This, coupled with the scrawny, malnourished appearance of his muscles and the patches of blackened, almost charred fur, told the undeniable tale of torture.
Myranda set her mind carefully to the task of healing the most grievous of injuries first. After forcing him into a deep healing sleep, she spoke the words to close the wounds that still leaked blood. When they had been tended to, she relieved the smaller cuts and swelling. Each spell robbed her of more of her own strength, but the months of training had brought her enough stamina to perform the task at hand. By the time she had cast the last spell she could manage, Leo was far from healthy, but he was most assuredly out of danger. She leaned dizzily to the tree he was slumped against and slid to the ground. Myn, who had watched the whole spectacle with nothing short of angst-ridden worry, curled up between the girl and her patient.
"I may not be able to stay awake, Myn. I need you to be vigilant," Myranda said.
The dragon did not fully understand, but she scarcely needed to be told to protect her companion, perpetually in a defensive position whenever the slightest threat emerged. For Myranda, the world faded in and out for some time while her mind recovered. It was a strange near-sleep that she found to be quite unsettling. She was utterly helpless, not enough of her mind left to form a cogent thought. No less than three hours of such a state passed before she was shaken from her trance by the movement of Leo. He was painfully struggling to his feet. Myn, joyful to see him rise, managed to knock him back to the ground in her enthusiasm.
"Easy, little one," he said, as the elated beast rubbed her head on the weakened warrior.
"Sit, Leo. You shouldn't be awake. Not yet," she said, trying to shake the cobwebs from her head.
"I shouldn't be alive. Those wounds were dire. I should know. I have delivered more than a few myself," he said.
"I healed you," she said.
"Healed me? I don't seem to remember you speaking of such a talent when last we met," he said.
"There was no such talent to speak of at the time," she replied.
"And the remarkably affectionate dragon?" he asked.
"That's Myn. I found her a few months ago. As for the affectionate part, you are the first person she has ever been anything short of hostile toward," Myranda said, as Myn rapidly scampered from her lap to his and back again before running off toward where she had dropped her chewed-up helm to retrieve it.
"Well, I have a way with animals," he said, slowly scanning the battleground.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"My mind is not what it should be. I count twelve bodies. Am I correct?" he asked.
"I am not thinking very clearly either, but I believe so," she said.
He released a sigh and slumped against the tree.
"Finally . . . that is all of them. After all of this time, I don't have to look over my shoulder anymore," he said. He tried to raise his hand to his forehead, but winced in pain and let it fall again.
"You must have a broken bone that I missed," Myranda said, reaching for her crystal. A surge of dizziness assured her that it would be foolish to attempt to speak a spell right now.
"You seem unwell. Can I help?" he offered, noticing her wavering posture.
"Don't mind me. You are the one who needs help. Can you move your fingers?" she asked.
"Somewhat," he answered. "And it only hurts when I move it. It is not broken; I have broken it often enough to know the difference."
"You should have a sling for it until I can heal it for you," she said.
Myranda pulled the worn old cloak from inside the new one. Carefully she tore a strip from it.
"Isn't that your uncle's cloak?" he asked.
"It was," she said.
"I thought it meant a lot to you," he said.
"It did, and does, but it is the only material I have that would make for a decent sling. He would have wanted it to be useful. I can't think of a better use," she said, tying a few knots to fashion a sling.
Myranda fitted the sling over the injured arm.
"There," she said.
"It is a fine sling," he said.
Myn returned with the helmet and curled up between them. Leo spied her toy. He scanned the remains of the battle once more.
"That helm. It didn't come from one of these soldiers," he remarked, his voice tense.
"No, no it came from a--" Myranda began.
"An elf woman," he finished.
"Yes, how did you---" she asked.
"She is the leader of the Elites. She was not with the squad that followed me here. Where did you get this?" he demanded.
"We had a run-in with her on the way here," she said, his desperation beginning to affect her.
"Then she is following you! But I . . . Never mind, no time. How long a
go did you get here?" he asked, his tone now that of a professional.
"Perhaps a week. They couldn't have made it here until at least a half-day after I did," she said.
He drew in a deep breath.
"They are close, and getting closer. South, now!" he said.
Myn was on her feet and in motion as soon as he mentioned a direction. Myranda helped him to his feet and the trio moved on as quickly as their various impairments would allow. Leo snatched up the metal spike. It was stained with a dozen different shades of blood. Carrying it was a labor for his still-weary body, but he refused to put it down.
"What is going on?" she asked.
"They must think that you are a bit more dangerous than you really are. They are treating you like they treated me. Otherwise they would have found you and killed you hours after they arrived. Instead, they must think you are leading them into an ambush. Once they see the two of us in this condition and the bodies that I left behind, they will put a quick and very unpleasant end to our freedom, and likely our lives," he said.
"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "Why are they after you?"
"Suffice to say a few weeks after I met you this group took time out of their busy schedule of hunting down an assassin to hunt down me!" he said. "I couldn't avoid them for long and very shortly I was subjected to their hospitality in abundance. You learn much about the way people work when you are subjected to their techniques nonstop for a number of months."
"What are we going to do?" Myranda asked.
For a while, Leo was silent. His face was plastered with a look of deep contemplation as he walked. Finally, he spoke.
"There is a place in this forest, not far from here, that can offer safety for as long as it is required. I came here seeking it. The entrance can be reached by sunrise, even at this pace. Unfortunately the Elites will reach us far before first light. It will be a miracle if they do not reach the battleground before five minutes have passed. We cannot fight them. That would be suicide.
"You have to reach the sanctuary. The entrance is a cave with a stream running from it. Go inside and follow the stream. You won't need light. Just follow the water to its source, no matter how long it takes. When you can feel it bubbling from the rocks, I want you to climb the wall directly above it and find the smallest opening. Crawl inside and follow it to its end. From there, feel the walls at every branch and take the path that is smoothest. When the walls are smooth as glass, the path should be clear," he said purposefully, without stopping.
"But how are we going to make it there?" she asked.
"You are going to ride a horse that I am going to liberate from its rider," he said.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I will hold them off long enough for you to get out of sight," he said.
"But you said it was suicide to fight them!" she said.
"It is. I don't care. I am determined to get you out of this alive. You saved my life. No one else in this forsaken world would have given me a second thought. A person like you deserves to make it through this. If they get you, they will lock you away until they know what they need to know, and then they will kill you. It is the fate that someone like me has been headed for since birth, but you don't deserve it. You are so unique, so pure. You must go on! Honestly, you should have left me to die. You are better off without me. But you saved my life, and now at least I can have a chance to do the same. Perhaps it will earn me a high place in the afterlife," he said.
"No--I didn't save your life to have you throw it away. We are all making it out of this somehow. The three of us," she demanded.
#
Not far away, the soldiers drew nearer. There were sixteen of them, riding on fifteen horses. A fire burned inside them as they came upon the bodies of their fallen brethren. There were tracks leading into the woods. A trio of them, one human and two beasts. At full gallop, the Elites followed them into the thick, dark woods. With a few brief words, seven of the soldiers dropped back, holding their position while the remaining eight horses continued. Another command from the lips of the leader brought the second group to a halt. There was no one in sight, but the tracks had ended. Trigorah spoke.
"Myranda Celeste," she commanded. Hers was a clear and confident voice that carried every ounce of authority that her rank did. She bore a steely, impenetrable look of duty on her face.
After receiving no answer, the warrior drew her sword in one slow, deliberate motion. The blade sang against the sheath, gradually revealing five radiant blue points along its length, the tips of crystals like the one she had wielded during the pursuit. She then dropped from the back of the horse, signaling that the soldier who had been sharing a horse to take her place. The elf brandished the short sword in one hand and drew a mystic gem from a pouch at her belt. A few more words from her lips and the gem obeyed her just as the soldiers had. She tossed the crystal into the dwindling piles of snow just past the trees where the tracks had ended.
"If you value your life, you will reveal yourself before that crystal's spell is cast," she warned.
The light from the gem grew, illuminating the snow bank with its eerie blue glow. The air seemed alive with energy. Hair stood on end as glowing tendrils flicked out from the blinding gem. On the orders of the leader, blinders were quickly dropped over the horses eyes and all soldiers looked away. Myranda and Leo dove from behind the trees just as fractures on the crystal's surface gave way. The whole of the stand of trees, and perhaps the whole of the forest, was bathed in an utterly silent burst of the same white-blue light that Myranda had come to fear.
When the darkness came rushing back in, those things nearest to the center of the blast were smoldering. Bark was stripped from trees and the snow was reduced to a sizzling pool amid blackened ground. Myranda and Leo climbed to their feet and readied their weapons. Leo held his spike at the ready in his one healthy arm. Myranda held her knife as her father had taught long ago. The elf coolly surveyed her prey.
"You are Myranda Celeste," the general stated.
"I am," Myranda replied. Her mind was not much clearer than it had been when she had first seen the elf's face, but this time, the answer became clear. "And you are Trigorah Teloran."
The soldiers stirred, some drawing their weapons. A motion from the general quieted them.
"I am pleased that you remember me. I have been sent by the highest of authorities to bring you to justice. If you cooperate, no harm will come to you. If you resist you will be taken by force," Trigorah said.
"I didn't do anything, Trigorah," Myranda said. "I did not kill those men."
The soldiers were again rattled, requiring a spoken reprimand from their leader to settle.
"It is not my place to question your guilt or innocence, and it is not your place to do me the dishonor of speaking my given name. Perhaps you were worthy of that long ago, but you lost the right when you ran afoul of the Alliance Army. You will address me as General Teloran or not at all," she demanded, her tone wavering slightly with the anger she felt.
Leo grinned.
"So, Trigorah, how do you like my handiwork? A fitting retribution, I feel, for the torture," he said, attempting to push the anger further.
The soldiers stirred again. One raised a spear and made ready to heave it at the offender. No word came to stop him.
"Take care, malthrope. At the moment, my orders do not include your capture. If you submit, you too will be brought to justice without harm--but another word out of your wretched maw and my men will deliver you to the shallow grave you have earned," the general warned.
"Look at the horrors he has been through. How do I know you do not have the same in store for me? What is to stop me from standing my ground and losing my life rather than face the same fate as he?" Myranda demanded.
"That capture and subsequent treatment of the beast was at the hands of my associate. His methods are quite different from my own--wait . . . you are stalling. Where is the dragon!?"
The cries of terrified horses
came as an answer as Myn did as she was told. While the tense exchange was taking place, the dragon had taken a wide berth around the immediate threat and sought out those soldiers Leo had predicted would be left as backup. Bursts of flame and slashes of claws sent the fear-crazed horses in all directions. As the dragon continued to stir up unseen chaos, Leo made his move. He swiftly moved in on the nearest soldier and, with a few deft strikes with his unconventional weapon, unseated him from his steed. He then hurled the heavy spike, burying it in the chest of a soldier moving to seize Myranda. The girl rushed to the horse that Leo was mounting, the weapon of a fallen soldier already in his hand.
Suddenly, an increasingly familiar feeling came to her, as a cold blade was pressed to her neck. It was Trigorah.
"Everyone hold still!" the leader demanded.
The soldiers quickly obeyed, as did Leo.
"You could have run, but you didn't. This girl means something to you," she said, addressing the malthrope.
"You won't kill her. Your orders were to take her alive," he said.
"Death is not as permanent as you think," she said. "Now drop your weapon, or would you like to experience the other side firsthand?"
Leo obeyed.
"I thought one more word would mean my death," he said.
"I've changed my mind. I am sure that my superiors are quite displeased with my associate and his failure to prevent your escape. Now I will show them never to doubt me again. I will bring both prizes," she said. "It is a shame. You are a peerless warrior, and Myranda had such potential. I pray that you see the light and join us. It would be an honor to fight beside you. The men you killed were like brothers to me, but they knew the risks. These were the deaths that they had chosen. Their souls will rest peacefully so long they are replaced by those of worth."
Myranda struggled briefly, but it was clear that with the blade of the sword held to her throat, escape was impossible. Her mind raced. The sights and sounds of the conflict flashed through her mind again and again. There had to be something . . . Yes! That would work! If only she could remember. What were the words? Finally the answer came. She worked her hand slowly to the pouch that hung at the general's belt. In one quick move, she shoved her hand inside and spoke the words that the general had used to bring the first gem to life.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 20