by BJ Hanlon
Edin’s heart jumped into his throat as he adjusted the grip on his sword. Sweat began pouring from his palms as he tried to see past the flames. Grent stepped forward and picked up a burning log that was only partially torched. He threw it into the center of the cove.
A huge thump, followed by a second as two black crillios appeared in front of the burning log and turned toward them. They weren’t as large as the one that attacked Edin… but close.
“Get ready,” Grent said.
“I thought they hunted alone?” Dephina said.
“They’re not as big as the one I killed,” Edin said.
“Juveniles then,” Horston said.
“Still seem deadly,” Grent said.
The cats started stalking forward as if in a coordinated pattern. Grent stepped up and stabbed his sword into the fire and flicked. Logs, sparks, and flames flew out, smacking the beasts.
They roared as Grent leapt forward, a moment later he was followed by Dephina. The crillios barely had time. Edin didn’t know what to do as Grent dodged a huge swipe of a claw and slashed his blade across one of their front legs. The cat leapt forward smacking its head into Grent’s chest with a force that looked like a giant striking with a warhammer.
The terrin hobbled back and stared.
Dephina leapt a quick slashing claw, flipping over it and jabbing a blade into the shoulder. It roared as she landed and instead of falling, it twisted and lashed out with the back of a paw. The strength of the beast was unbelievable. Dephina’s body was thrown into a rock wall.
“Dephina!” Grent yelled, his concentration was broken as his crillio stalked toward him. Then it leapt, jaws ready to sink into Grent’s neck. Edin felt something pulling in him, his talent. He’d have one chance before he passed out.
“Grent!” Master Horston screamed.
The warrior saw the attack, and ducked. The huge chest of the beast crashed into Grent and barreled him into the ground. Edin let the energy from the world flow around him. He remembered the knives Grent had used. Those were too small. Something bigger.
The cat over Grent reared back in a slow, labored motion. The one nearing Dephina was moving the same way. Edin summoned a pair of ethereal spears.
He launched one at Grent’s, catching it in the neck, then he spun and threw the second at Dephina’s. He didn’t know if it hit. Edin collapsed.
He woke to the taste of water on his lips. He blinked his eyes open and saw Horston grinning. It was still dark out and, in the firelight, the old man was actually smiling. An oddity. Edin was alive and Horston grinning. That was a good sign.
“How are they?” Edin somehow managed to say.
“Alive… both of them. Dephina though hit her head pretty hard.”
Edin felt a bruise on his right thigh and his right elbow hurt. “Ow...” he groaned.
“I was too slow to catch you,” Horston said with a guilty look.
“That’s okay.” He gritted his teeth as he sat up. Across the cave, Grent and Dephina where lying on bedrolls. Grent was awake, his head on his pack.
“She’ll be alright?” Grent grunted.
“I don’t know,” Master Horston said, his usual insults and sarcasm gone.
“Take care of her,” Grent said with more than a little concern in his struggling voice. The guard liked the assassin, and she liked him. Edin almost smiled until he saw a tear fall down the man’s face.
Edin felt the air around him, the energy. As Grent told him, he let it flow like a river into him and felt his body wake as if from a great sleep. Edin stood and saw Grent leaning close to Dephina’s face. Her lips moved and he kissed her forehead.
His arm hung in a makeshift sling with what had to be splints jutting out from it.
Edin turned back to the entrance the two black beasts lie motionless in their places of death. He wasn’t sure if any more of the beasts would come or if vicious scavengers appear. It wouldn’t be long until the corpses were fly ridden and rotting.
He needed to take watch. As he sat, he wondered if whoever wrote the book on the cats just made everything up. It was probable. He added more wood to the fire and sat behind it—the flames serving as a barrier between them and the forest.
The stench of the dead crillios grew to be worse than the live ones. Edin was unsure of what to do with the corpses.
After a while, Master Horston sat beside him and said that both the warrior and bard had broken ribs, Grent a broken arm, and Dephina also had a bruised back, a head wound and injured coccyx, whatever that was. It’d be a week before either could travel. As light rose, Edin closed his eyes and slept.
No one was in the mood to eat cat, so the next day he burned the corpses.
Grent was awake, but in pain and unable to move much. He told him how to set snares, though Edin didn’t think there’d be much game in the forest with two crillios.
Edin practiced the weapons and strength training. After he was done and Grent approved, the terrin added another form as well as more of the Oret Nakosu.
On the third day, Dephina woke, hazy and barely certain where she was. The woman was ravenous and ate so much he thought she’d pop like a bubble.
Edin began to get cabin fever after day four. He’d spent some days trying to hunt and others exploring but never too far from their camp. A small stream was a few hundred yards east and he was able to fill the waterskins.
Edin was discussing the new sword form with Grent when Dephina told him she could teach him a duel wield form. He could use short swords, knives or if he got strong enough, long swords.
Grent nodded and watched as they performed. It took him three days using Dephina’s long knives to learn. It was far more complicated in some respects, but normal in others.
Edin noticed the lightness of her weapons and that the steel was slightly darker with thin etchings in the metal. Grent and Dephina both watched, sitting side-by-side, correcting every wrong step and sloppy movement.
At night Edin would fall asleep the second his head hit the roll.
For some reason, Edin didn’t feel the attraction to Dephina as he had, she was still beautiful but the way she and Grent looked at each other, the gentle, caring tones when they spoke made him see her in a different light.
The way they acted together was something different, they laughed and grinned.
Edin even thought he saw Grent blush at one point. He was five yards away training when all of a sudden Grent began to turn bright red under his deep black beard.
They seemed younger together and happy. Grent was like an uncle to him, Horston a grandfather, albeit a sarcastic and cranky one, then somehow she was like an aunt. He found a very odd family.
Edin’s mind was wandering and he felt the nick of one of the blades on the edge of his thigh as he spun it. A small slice appeared with a thin red line of blood. Edin carried on as if nothing happened. It stung a little as he continued trying to keep his mind on what he was doing.
“We leave tomorrow,” Grent announced, his arm still in a sling. Master Horston nodded, he’d been bored out of his mind for the duration of their stay.
Edin woke the next morning before sunrise, he glanced at the small cut on his leg and sighed. He’d forgot to clean it. There was dirt and small stones stuck to the dried blood. Edin stood and left the cave. Grabbing a waterskin and started to rinse the wound.
Someone stirred behind him and he quickly stoppered it up. After he finished the Oret Nakosu, everyone was awake. They had a quick breakfast though everyone was quiet. The small cave had become a home to them.
It was the first time he’d stayed in one place for more than a night since he left the village, since his mother was murdered. Edin shook the thought from his head.
“We’ll keep to the woods for a few more days then head back down toward the edge of the forest,” Grent stated. “We’ve got maybe a half week left of food, so we’ll have to find a town since Edin’s hunting skills are as nice as a crillio’s cuddle.” He chuckled then showed a
flash of pain in his face.
Grent and Dephina’s wounds weren’t fully healed and there breathing was still a little strained but they were able to carry on.
They slowly packed up and started east again. At Edin’s stream they crossed at a low point where the water barely covered to tops of his boots. Though the cold seeped in just the same.
As they continued through the forest he practiced his extending his focus and concentrating. It seemed odd to hear that not everyone thought of magi as abominations like Dephina said. He wondered if one day they’d be accepted again. Probably not in his life time. Maybe never is Bestoria… the magi king really must’ve done something evil to cause so much fear and hatred that even the church, the same one that claimed to help all of mankind, labeled his kind abominations needed for slaughter.
Their hikes were shorter and they paused more often than before, due to the injuries to Dephina and Grent as well as Master Horston becoming out of shape during the sabbatical. Edin was fine, he felt like he could walk as far as Grent now, maybe he could. At night he spent time training before falling asleep.
The next few days went by almost the same, his body felt stronger besides the soft pain in his thigh when sweat entered it. Edin created a shield around himself. A barrier that even he couldn’t pierce. He could fill himself with energy from the world and direct it. Once it left his body, he felt tired, though the strain was becoming less. At one point after he expended too much energy it felt like he was caught in a rockslide and completely covered.
Edin collapsed, waking a few hours later with his three companions chatting idly around him. When they resumed the trek, Edin wondered if it were possible that he could die from it.
“It’s possible that if you use all of your energy that you could burn out and die,” Master Horston said when he brought up the question. “However, I’m not an expert. For now, let’s only experiment with small discharges of energy.” His eyes said he didn’t want Edin passing out again.
Edin started forming objects using his power, on difficult ground he formed an ethereal staff to help him walk. His sword and duel wielding forms were getting easier and he could move through them with no problem. Grent had taught him a fourth form and Dephina a second duel wield form. According to Grent, they were still basic and while some of the movements kept him rooted to the ground, others included jumping and rolling.
There was no way he could remember how many weeks they’d been traveling, three or four when they reached the edge of the forest. It began drizzling as they exited and a soft cleansing feeling washed over Edin.
Edin took a step as they reached a small hill leading up to a tall grass mound. A tweak of pain began to throb in his thigh and he shivered. He felt almost as if he were sweating. His breathing felt labored and he was exhausted. Something hit him from the front. Master Horston’s back.
The old man turned around looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Edin croaked.
“Hold it,” Grent said with his hand held. He stood on a small ridge looking down onto something. “Brisbi, city by the cliffs,” he said as he spit at the ground.
“That’s gross,” Dephina said as Master Horston ascended. Edin took a few steps and felt dizzy. He tried to look over the scene but it blurred.
“I hate this place but we need to stock up on food and probably some rope for the descent.” Grent said but his voice seemed far off.
The Great Cliff was the border between Resholt and Dunbilston. A legend said that a great Earth Mage called forth an earthquake to stop a vicious army’s progress. Edin wasn’t sure if that was true. He pulled out a waterskin and took a drink. His mouth was getting dry.
“Let us try not to get kicked out of this town,” Grent said. “We need to go in quietly, no disturbances.” He glanced at Dephina. She shrugged.
“I could use a bath,” she said winking at Grent, “and a wine.”
“Okay,” Grent said, “let’s go.”
Edin nodded and tried to step forward. It seemed his energy disappeared. He could hear them calling his name. Edin felt the world spinning, his stomach lurched as he threw up then passed out into darkness.
8
Bloody Hands
Edin woke, his mouth dry, though he could taste the remnants of the bitter mintweed tea. His stomach churned. The brew worked quickly, sometimes within hours. Once, when he didn’t want to go to school, he claimed to be sick. His mother threatened him with the tea in her terse voice. He had no choice, drink it or go to class. He was late and received a lecture from the teacher.
Edin tried to shake the memory from his mind. Looking around he saw he was in a small gully in the forest. By the western light, he knew it was late in the afternoon. Edin pushed himself to his elbows.
“Drink water and eat,” Master Horston said handing him a waterskin and some dried meat. Edin wasn’t hungry but not only that, the food made his stomach queasy. The thought of sloshing water was worse. Despite that he drank, barely a gulp. The food he passed on.
“Where are…” Edin started, his voice croaking.
“Town, they should be back by nightfall if the gates don’t close. Now down with that boy.”
With a deep breath he shoved the mystery meat into his mouth. After a long chew he sent it down. He moved and felt a binding of some sort on his hip. Edin pulled down his trousers and saw a brown cloth wrapped around his thigh.
“It’ll be stiff for a while, but you should be okay,” Master Horston said. “Next time tell us when you get cut.”
“I’ve been cut hundreds of times,” Edin whispered. “I’ve never felt like that.”
He huffed, “we’ve been in the woods. Insects, dirt… you got an infection boy. I’ve taught you this. The smallest wounds can kill the largest men if they’re not treated. Maybe this time the lesson will stick.”
Edin ate another bite but it did nothing to settle his stomach. Their supply of dried fruits, cheese and bread had been gone since the cave.
Edin’s hand moved to the fang, the last gift his mother gave him. Closing his eyes, he remembered her turning from him in the cellar. Fire flashed behind his eyelids and he saw her screaming in the flames.
Edin opened his eyes. Tears were beginning to form. She was murdered with Kesona. The village that they had all called home destroyed two good people for no reason. For a superstition. He clenched and unclenched his fists as tears rolled down. His nails digging into his palms. If he ever got back there, he’d make them pay. He’d burn the whole place down. Edin would give them a reason to be afraid of a Mad Mage.
“Oh, you little blotard, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. So sensitive you young people, like a dopin flower’s bloom, one little wind and you collapse.”
“It’s not…” Edin paused, he heard a whisper coming from somewhere.
“Oi, who’s there?” A voice called from somewhere to his right. “Exit the forest and you won’t be harmed.”
Edin looked at Master Horston who quickly kicked dirt onto the fire. Edin stood, his leg was sore and slightly stiff. It protested as he slipped on his pack and pointed deeper into the forest.
Master Horston nodded. He was slower but quieter. Edin followed and kept looking over his shoulder in case someone decided to come after them.
“City watch doesn’t venture into the woods,” Horston whispered. Edin hoped he was right.
The old man stopped and stood behind a fat tree with low barren limbs.
Drawing his sword, Edin took up a position a few feet away crouching behind a prickly red bush with small green berries.
His leg ached and head began to tickle with sweat. A branch snapped in front of them. Edin wiped his palm on his leg and tried not to wince. Another crack drew his attention to the right. His heart pounded. Edin tested his injured leg, a sharp pain ran through him.
Where was Grent and Dephina when they needed them?
A shadow appeared to move, then another. A line of men approaching. It wasn’t on
e, it was five at least and a second glance said they weren’t guardsmen. They looked like a raggedy bunch of warriors, probably bandits. Maybe even the ones they’d passed on the way?
“Over here,” someone yelled from off to his right.
Edin glanced and saw a man staring at him with a knife in one hand and a hungry look on another. A few more turned and spotted him. Edin swallowed trying to concentrate on his energy. The men spread out in a semi-circle, their eyes huge like they were staring at a delectable meal. One of them licked his lips. They moved slowly up the small hill that Edin and Master Horston held.
“Don’t move boy or you die. Give us your gold and food,” the man in the center said. He looked better dressed than the others, his tunic wasn’t faded and he wore shiny rings on his hands. His hair was pulled back and tied in a ponytail and a long sword sat in its sheath. “If you’re thinking about running, know that I’m a terrin and you won’t be getting far, especially not with the old man behind the next tree.”
Edin felt a coldness run down his spine as he watched the man approach, he couldn’t match the speed and endurance. Grent was the only one who could handle this man. Edin felt his breath start bleating out and felt light headed.
The men moved closer, their feet cracking every branch. From only a few yards away, Edin could smell ale on their breaths.
“We don’t have any money,” Master Horston said, his voice sounding feeble, “we have a little food, some dried meat but that is all.”
“Is that true?” the terrin asked looking at Edin.
Grent had all the money. His mother must’ve given him the coin purse before they left. He nodded. “Like the old man says, we’ve got nothing.” Maybe they’d take the food and go. It seemed to be the only chance they had to stave off the fight and their subsequent deaths.
“Why do you camp in the forest when Brisbi is only a few hundred yards away. You either have something of value, or you’re wanted.” The terrin moved forward, his body still shadowed but he could make out a large round head and broad shoulders.