River of Spears (Kingdom's Forge Book 0)

by Kade Derricks

  He slammed the spark into the wounded scales.

  Like ripples in a pond, a wave of light pulsed outward from his hand. Dain slipped to one knee. The world spun. The edges of his vision grew dark. His limbs felt drained of life. Briefly, he glimpsed the injured scales. The wound seemed a little better, the scales a bit more lively, especially those closest to where the spark had centered. He tried to rise and felt rough hands clasp him. They lifted him upright.

  “Put him up here and lash him on. We may need him again,” Unsha said.

  One of the Tyberons helped him climb atop the tegu. They tied him to a bony spike with a length of worn cloth.

  Unsha leaned near to him. “Next time, let old Unsha help you, eh? I’ve got a lovely trick to make your power stronger. I would’ve shown you, but I didn’t know you could heal.” Then she took her own place lower on the lizard’s back, close to the Tyberon warriors.

  Interesting, Dain thought through his haze of exhaustion, Jensen and Nicola hadn’t shared that with the sorceress. How much did the Pyre Riders trust Unsha? For that matter, how much did Unsha trust them?

  Dain didn’t trust any of them, other than Nicola. The chains may have been gone, but he still felt surrounded by enemies.

  The group rode at a trot. Unlike their earlier trip as captives, they traveled north in a straight line this time.

  Dain leaned toward Nicola. Mantal seemed more in control now, and she and Jensen began taking turns guiding the tegu.

  “Nicola, why didn’t we see any tegu when we were with the army, and why don’t the patrols see them?”

  “The patrols don’t go far enough from the river. The tegu don’t like the river. And they avoided the army,” Nicola said.

  “Avoided?”

  Nicola’s green eyes regarded him and a small smile crept across her face.

  “Yes, avoided. The ash kept them away. They have an instinctual fear of fire, it’s the only thing that truly threatens them in the wild. For lizards, they are extremely intelligent.”

  “So how are we able to travel in a straight line now?” Dain asked. “When the Tyberons captured us we turned a hundred times during the march.”

  “Outside of mating season, the tegu are solitary creatures, highly territorial. They kill anything that approaches. Some of the Tyberons, the cranes, can sense them. Sense their life force. That’s what the guides were doing after we were captured, navigating around the Tegu. That’s why we turned so often.”

  “And why aren’t we dodging them now?”

  Nicola smiled. She patted the lizard’s massive head. She looked at Mantal like Dain knew he looked at Boon.

  “The others are afraid of our girl. She is powerful, larger than most. Mantal is queen of the grasslands.”

  “What about water and food? Three days is too far without water,” Dain continued.

  A sour look crossed Nicola’s face. Her eyes shifted further back along the lizard’s back.

  “Unsha is responsible for that. She can sense water, enough for us and for Mantal. At this pace our queen can’t go for more than a night or two without water.”

  On the giant plodded. She walked slower than yesterday, her limp more pronounced with each step. Finally, she staggered and stopped well before the sun rose.

  “She’s starved,” Jensen said. “The healing helped her, but she’s hungry now. Without food, she won’t carry us any further.”

  Unsha turned to regard the hunters; her hunters, Dain realized. “Scatter out and look for an bison or two. There’s a lake ahead.”

  “Jaffa and Wilhem will check the lake,” Jensen said. “The rest of the mercenaries will pair up with the hunters and then spread out. It will take more than one man to carry enough meat.”

  Jensen’s tone held the air of command that never seemed to leave it. Unsha only smiled and bowed her head but, before her head dipped, Dain saw her shoot the Pyre Riders a venomous look.

  She doesn’t like having her orders questioned, much less changed.

  Dain turned to go with one of the hunters when Nicola spoke. She caught his arm and held him.

  “Not you. Save your strength in case you need to heal Mantal again.”

  Wilhem, who had been chained to Jensen, headed off with Jaffa, the biggest of Unsha’s Tyberons. The rest of the hunters and mercs paired off and vanished into the tall grasses.

  He walked over to Mantal’s injured side. The healed spot looked healthier, but by comparison the surrounding areas looked worse. Several hand-sized scales had flaked away, exposing a thin layer of skin and powerful muscle below. It was as he feared; she was too large to heal outright. Too large for him, at least.

  Maybe if I were stronger. Or maybe if I try again. Further from the center this time…

  He held his hand up, preparing to draw on the Light.

  “Wait. Before you try, I would help you,” Unsha said.

  Dain didn’t want her help. He wasn’t sure he really wanted anything to do with her anymore. He was grateful for their escape, and they couldn’t have managed it without her, but the way she cackled when the summoner had died, the way her eyes gleamed when talking about those poisoned men and women…in her there was evil, he knew it.

  “Use this,” Unsha said. She handed over a small Magentite, one he recognized from her shackle.

  “I’ve never used one of these before.” He rolled the gem between his fingers and it caught the sunlight like a prism. It didn’t feel any different from an ordinary gem.

  “Hold it in your hand and press it against her side along with your spark.”

  He cupped it in his palm and began to pray.

  Before the first syllable of prayer left his lips, the spark ignited. And it felt…different, lighter and stronger. With little coaxing or effort it soon pulsed brighter and grew larger than he’d ever managed. Puzzled, he wondered at it. He had half-expected it to fail. How could the Magentite amplify his power?

  The Light is a gift from the Creator to aid his children against evil. It is distilled faith. His instructors had been clear on that. How could the Light be amplified by a gem in the same way the Pyre Riders’ fire would be?

  He wanted to marvel at it. To bask in the power. But he feared the questions it raised. The Light was supposed to be a different form of power. Other magics—those drawn from nature or from other planes or from the earth itself—they could be enhanced. But faith? How could faith be enhanced by a gem?

  Dain plunged the spark into the tegu’s side. A great blast of silent white light flashed outward. He fell.

  “Foolish man,” he heard Nicola say above him. She cradled his head and offered him a waterskin.

  Dain drank slowly at first, then more greedily. The water was cool and refreshing.

  “What happened?”

  “What happened, fool, is you almost killed yourself. You drew too deep on your power and it took a toll on your body,” Unsha said. “The gem helps you draw more power, and then keep drawing it, but a mortal body can only hold so much at once.”

  “Nicola, come away from him. We may need to help Mantal feed,” Jensen called.

  Nicola looked at Dain with concern, and he saw a thin flash of anger when she turned to her mother. She obeyed, however, rising and disappearing behind the lizard.

  Unsha watched her go. Then she turned to him.

  “Well, if Jensen isn’t thankful, I am. My feet thank you at the very least. You do know…” She paused for a moment, as if turning something over in her mind, then spoke again. “You do know they mean to kill us, don’t you?”

  “What? Why?”

  “We know their little secret. The famed and fearless Pyre Riders of Hycropolis are women…mere women. Effective though they may be, a lot of men won’t want to hire women to fight their battles, to ki
ll their enemies.”

  “That’s crazy. It won’t make a difference,” Dain said. It hadn’t made a bit of difference to all those men Nicola and the other Riders had scorched to ash. Dead was dead, no matter who’s hands were bloodied.

  Unsha smiled at him as if he were the village idiot.

  “How many battles have they averted, just by their reputation? Even here in Tyberon we’ve heard the stories. Hire the Riders, if you can afford them, and often the other side just gives up. That ends if word gets out. It will ruin them. And they’ll kill us all to preserve the secret. If you don’t believe me, ask yourself why and how have they kept the secret for so long? Surely we aren’t the first to learn of it. Tell me you didn’t think differently of Nicola after you learned.”

  They stared at each other then, letting the silence hang between them. Finally, the sorceress turned and headed off by herself to rest.

  Dain looked at Mantal’s leg, seeking a distraction from Unsha’s unsettling words. The scales were healed. Two-dozen soft, newly grown cells covered the wound. Maybe the Light was different, maybe the Magentite only amplified its effects. That has to be it, he reasoned. That had to be how the gem could affect the faith.

  Dain walked around the tegu to join the others. In silence they waited for the hunters’ return.

  Wilhem and Jaffa walked into camp first—or rather Wilhem did. Like a sack of wheat, Jaffa was slung over the mercenary’s broad shoulders. Wilhem dropped the Tyberon warrior in a heap at the clearing’s edge. Then the merc walked to Jensen without a word.

  “Jaffa,” Unsha cried and rushed to him. She set about checking his wounds. “Dain, can you do anything for him?”

  Dain walked over. Even from a distance, he could tell the warrior was well beyond his abilities—anyone’s abilities—and he had been for some time. He knelt beside the fallen warrior and felt at his neck. Jensen and Nicola watched him without a word.

  No pulse, no breathing. Jaffa was dead.

  Dain looked at Unsha; he shook his head. The sorceress met his eyes and then glared, not at Wilhem, but at the two Pyre Riders. She rose and held her hands in fists at her sides. The hint of a Magentite gem glimmered between the clenched fingers of her right hand.

  Jensen ran a hand over Mantal’s scales. The lizard’s tongue flicked out. She and Nicola eased a few feet apart. They too held their hands low and ready. Dain drew on the Light and strengthened his spellshield. If the fire and lightning flew he didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. After feeling the effects of Magentite, he didn’t think his shield would survive more than a single hit. His eyes flicked to the tall grass at his left. He could dive in there and take his chances. At least he’d have a shot at making the river. How far might it be?

  Several long seconds passed, neither side moving or looking away, and then Jensen spoke.

  “Step away from him then,” she said. She mounted Mantal and guided the tegu closer.

  Dain and Unsha moved aside.

  Jensen walked the tegu up to Jaffa and then brought Mantal to a halt. The big lizard leaned down. The forked tongue flicked out. Mantal’s jaws opened, and she ate Jaffa in one swallow.

  Food for a lizard. Not a pleasant end, Dain thought. At least he was beyond knowing of his fate.

  “Our girl will feel better this evening, well enough to travel again now that she’s fed. I suggest we leave,” Jensen said. There was ice in her tone and she stared at Unsha as she spoke.

  “In two days we’ll be free of this grass and I will be free of you,” Unsha mumbled. She cast a quick glare filled with hate at Jensen.

  The other Tyberon hunters returned then, meatless and alone. None of the mercs were with them. Jensen looked, but made no comment. Unsha only smiled.

  The night and the following day passed without incident. Unsha and her Tyberons needed the Pyre Riders to guide Mantal; Jensen and Nicola needed Unsha to steer them back to the river. Unsha also had the gems. During their escape they’d all seen their destructive power. Neither Pyre Rider seemed eager to challenge the sorceress, and there was no way of knowing how many gems she had.

  Dain didn’t attempt to heal Mantal again. She seemed recovered after the last healing, and he wanted to save his strength for the inevitable split of the two groups.

  And a violent split at that, he suspected.

  Not wanting to linger in camp among the silent stares and invisible sparks that showered between the two factions of their party, Dain went hunting with Wilhem. Neither Jensen nor Unsha offered to pair them up with the Tyberon hunters.

  “There’s a clearing off to the east, maybe half a mile. Try there,” Unsha offered.

  He and Wilhem traveled without speaking. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember a time Wilhem had spoken aloud, not to Jensen or to anyone. He would lean over to listen to her, but never offered anything in return. Dain could swear he remembered the man speaking on the march toward the quarry.

  Perhaps he’s gone mute, Dain thought. Captivity could break the best of men. Idly, he wondered if the big merc had orders to kill him. Unsha was right, he did know the Pyre Riders’ secret. Would they kill him to try and keep it?

  He gripped his tools tightly. Poor weapons at best, but they could be charged with Light if needed. He shifted the hammer to his left hand, opposite Wilhem, where the merc wouldn’t be able to grab it. He shook his head and tried to clear the intrusive thoughts away.

  No, we’re not out of danger yet. Jensen will want my spellshields and healing abilities—incomplete as they are—if she makes an attempt on Unsha.

  He remembered the lightning Unsha had thrown into the quarry. Could he stand against such a blast?

  He and the silent merc spotted the clearing ahead at the same time. The grass thinned as they approached and Dain saw an open area and the day’s young sun. From his left, he heard snorting and a low braying. Just yards away stood a herd of bison. This close the animals were massive. To bring one down, they’d need a plan.

  Dain paused. He leaned closer to the grass. Before he could speak to Wilhem, the big merc stepped into the open and hurled a spear—his only spear—at the nearest bull.

  Dain watched it fly as if it moved underwater. The spear arced, fell lower, and then hit the bull’s flank. Although the merc was strong, it penetrated the bison’s hide mere inches and, instead of killing the beast, only enraged it. Its black eyes looked at Wilhem. The two-thousand-pound beast snorted, lowered its shining horns, and pawed up a shovelful of black soil and cropped grass. Then its mouth opened, a slime-covered pink tongue rolled out, and a thundering bellow came from its throat.

  It charged.

  Standing next to Wilhem, Dain thought it would serve the merc right for being such an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking? And now instead of running, Wilhem stood still, as if waiting to be hit. Dain was under no illusions, after the bull gored Wilhem its attentions would turn to him.

  “Move!” he barked, but Wilhem seemed frozen. The madman actually cracked a faint smile.

  The charging beast closed. The spear lodged in its side bounced with every step, goading the bison faster like a spur. Scant yards remained between them.

  Hammer in hand, Dain did the only thing he could. He charged the weapon. The hammer’s reach was short; his timing would need to be perfect.

  The bull was less than a pace away, nostrils flaring, hooves thundering, head down, bellowing and bearing down on the smiling Wilhem.

  Dain swung.

  The heavy hammer met the beast’s skull and punched though. A flash of Light burst from it and, instead of momentum carrying the bison forward into Wilhem, the Light-charged weapon dropped it dead.

  Dain pulled more Light into his body, ready to strike again. The bull shuddered once, then stopped. He looked at Wilhem.

  He expected him to be reli
eved, but unless he was mistaken a quick flash of annoyance clouded the man’s features. Had he truly wished to die?

  The blast had frightened off the rest of the bison herd and the two men stood alone with the slain bull.

  Dain wasn’t sure how to get the meat back to Mantal—he wasn’t even sure how to carve it up without a knife. Even with the Light he couldn’t move a ton of dead animal. Maybe they could bring Mantal to it.

  “Any ideas on how to get this thing back?”

  Without a word, the big merc withdrew a long knife from his bag. He began carving up the bison.

  “Where’d you get that?” Dain asked him.

  Dain hadn’t expected an answer, and the big merc didn’t disappoint. He studied Wilhem as he worked.

  The merc’s movements were awkward, almost mechanical, his eyes dull and lifeless. The knife hit the bison’s rib bone and fell from Wilhem’s grasp. He stared at his empty hand.

  Dain took up the knife and started to carve. His mind wandered.

  Unsha and Jensen. Tyberon sorceress and Pyre Rider. Whose side am I on? Which is the right one? Or is there such a thing anymore?

  Both women were hard. Ruthless, even. But Unsha, the way she’d changed, the way she’d poisoned all those men and at least one woman. Somehow that bothered him more than Jensen’s cold callousness. Unsha enjoyed inflicting pain. It showed in the wicked light in her eyes. He had seen it with his own.