by Dan McGirt
Merc pointed at a soldier. “You! See to it! Or I will give you to them.” He indicated the twins, who smiled their fangsome smiles. The soldier blanched and hurried away. The rest of the crowd was not long in following.
Merc laughed. “That is what you call creative spellcasting. A simple blue bolt of death and a minor illusion and we have averted the senseless slaughter of an outright mêlée.” He regarded the twins. “And I don’t think any of the locals will be disturbing you two tonight.”
“Wasn’t that risky?” I asked. “I thought any use of your magic would allow the Society to pinpoint us.”
“Those were minor spells and quickly cast. This little incident will serve to confirm for Dylan that we passed this way, but I think little else will come of it—except some welcome cooperation. Ah! Here is the camp commander now, no doubt hastening to offer us the hospitality of his own private quarters.”
He was. The commander bunked elsewhere for the night while we occupied his cabin. The furnishings were roughhewn and plain, but for the first time since leaving home I slept with a roof over my head, even if I was on the floor. The girls, naturally, got the bed. We all took a turn on watch. Even with Merc’s display of sorcerous power we weren’t taking any chances.
As we rode out the next morning, much to the relief of Grimmel’s inhabitants, a notice on the camp message board caught my eye.
“Merc!” I cried. “That has my name on it!” I urged my horse over to the board and ripped the poster down. My name was written across it in bold script. Below it, in equally prominent print, was the sum of ten million crowns. The smaller writing stipulated that this bounty would be paid when I was brought dead or alive, but body intact, to any major city and turned over to a designated agent of the bounty’s unnamed sponsors. This was the first tangible proof of the bounty offer I had encountered and seeing it all laid out in black and white chilled my blood.
“Cosmo,” said Merc in dismay, “this is not the way to maintain a low profile.”
I stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then noticed that every logger and soldier within earshot was staring at me, jaws agape. Then they dropped whatever they were holding, turned heel, and ran screaming into the forest.
“I’m sorry, Merc. I was just surprised to see this.” I crumpled up the notice and dropped it to the ground.
“Get used to seeing it. Those notices are tacked on every wall and tree from here to Cyrilla.”
“That’s not a comforting thought.”
“I’ve got a less comforting one. Word of your presence—and your description—are going to spread through these logging camps like an outbreak of the Orphalian flu. If the Red Huntsman is still prowling around Brythalia it won’t be long before he hears the news and picks up our trail. I was hoping to avoid that.”
“I’m sorry, Merc.”
“Let’s hope we all don’t get a lot sorrier.”
We found all of the other logging camps abandoned upon our arrival. After two days of travel the forests gave way to broad farming estates worked by serf labor. On the third day we followed the river road west towards Rumular, passing through the lands of several nobles, each sporting a sprawling manor house or small castle. We were, by and large, unmolested—a most unsettling development. Each of the many dukes, earls, counts, and barons of Brythalia is semi-independent of the crown and absolute master on his own estate. Consequently, each noble typically charges outrageous tolls and other fees for passage through his territory. Yet we had been asked to pay not one copper dross, despite having encountered over a dozen roadblocks. In each case the soldiers manning the barrier had raised it as we approached, fearfully eyed our progress, and lowered the barrier behind us with audible sighs of relief.
As evening drew near, we entered the small village of Goatgloss to the accompaniment of much banging of shutters and bolting of doors. As we passed along the dirt lane that bisected the village I heard from within the thatched cottages the fearful wailing of mothers and daughters, the tears of small children, and the muttered curses and prayers of husbands and fathers. Dogs tucked their tails between their legs and scurried away whimpering at our approach. Cats arched their backs and hissed their feline defiance. Horses rolled their eyes and neighed nervously. No goats were in sight.
“Not exactly a warm, friendly welcome we’re getting,” I observed.
“This is not a good sign,” said Merc. “Your reputation has preceded us since Grimmel. If we’re lucky the Huntsman and BlackMoon are in southern Brythalia.”
We dismounted before the Dancing Donkey Inn, a square, two-story, wooden structure adjoined by a kitchenhouse and a stable. A weathered picture of a donkey doing backflips hung above the door.
“Let’s go in,” said Merc.
The proprietor, a rotund man with drooping jowls and several chins met us at the door, wringing his hands nervously and bowing as best he could.
“Welcome, welcome good sirs, to my humble establishment,” he wheezed. “How may I be of service?”
“We need a hot meal and rooms for the night,” said Merc, flipping him a gold coin. “Also, our horses need tending.”
“At once!” said the owner as the coin hit the floor and rolled beneath a table. “You may have any room you desire, as all of my other guests have just fled out the back door. Roasted beef, steamed mushrooms, fresh baked bread, Orphalian cheese, and my finest wine will be on the table momentarily. And your horses will be—ah, what do your horses eat?”
“Hay,” I said. “Or oats. What would you expect?”
“Not human flesh?” he asked, licking his lips.
“No. Just the usual fare.”
He looked relieved. “Please, please be seated, kind masters, and your meal will be served. I will see that your horses are carefully groomed and given our best feed. Your rooms will be prepared, your—”
“Thank you,” said Merc. “I am certain you will see to it.”
“Oh, yes! Yes! Absolutely!” The nervous innkeep bustled into the back room, shouting instructions.
“Good service here,” said Merc as we took our places at a rectangular, wine-stained table. Merc sat at one end of the table, I at the other. The girls sat near my end, one to a side.
“I hope the food is as good,” I said. “The rations you store in your cape taste odd.”
Mercury shrugged. “Ionization caused by the transition to and from the pocket dimension within the folds of my cape. You get used to it.”
“I haven’t.”
A trembling young serving girl appeared bearing a steaming platter of roast, gravy, and mushrooms. She never took her wide eyes off of me as she approached the table.
“This looks delicious,” I said, smiling hungrily. The dark-haired girl gasped, set the tray on the table with a thump, and scurried away like a startled rabbit. “Why is everyone so frightened of me?” I asked. “Women particularly?”
“They’ve probably heard how you raped and pillaged along the Free Coast, ravished all two hundred forty-five members of the harem of King Oriones of Cyrilla, massacred an entire Zastrian town with your bare hands, violated the Seven Sacred Sylphs of Serragonia, debauched with the daughters of demons amid the holy Vesper Hills, and kidnapped the concubines of the Thirteen Oligarchs of Xornos,” said Sapphrina. “That’s why I was frightened of you.”
“I told you your image was somewhat fearsome,” said Merc. “That’s why I wanted to travel incognito. Your name creates too big a stir.”
“I never expected it to be like this. You’d think I was a Demon Lord myself.”
“Some think you are,” said Rubis.
“We’ve got to duck all this attention soon,” said Mercury, “before we have to fend off the full might of the Society.”
A red-headed serving girl rushed in with a tray of wine goblets and distributed them quickly. She spilled mine in my lap, whimpered in terror, and bolted from the room.
“How will we do that?” I asked as the twins dabbed at the spill with their
napkins.
“We’ll have to avoid Rumular. Nor can we risk the main road any longer. We’ll have to turn southward now and head directly for the Raelnan border. It is also time to make a decision regarding the girls.”
“What do you mean?” said Rubis.
“We’re not leaving you,” said Sapphrina.
“Be reasonable, ladies. You are not part of our quest, except by accident. Your real objective is to return to Caratha. I think the best means of achieving that is for you to book passage on a river boat, which will take you all the way down the Longwash to that fair city.”
“Land or water, this is still Brythalia,” said Sapphrina. “Unescorted, we’ll soon be in chains again.”
“Why don’t we all take a boat?” asked Rubis. “It would be the quickest way for you to reach Raelna, wizard, and I’d much prefer a deck to a saddle.”
“We’re too exposed on a boat, too vulnerable,” said Mercury. “If you insist on coming with us, you’ll have stick with the saddle—and you’ll have to take your chances. My primary concern is keeping Cosmo and myself alive.”
“Fine,” said Sapphrina.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
The sisters exchanged a quick glance. “We know the dangers of riding with you,” said Sapphrina, “and we accept them.”
“This is the greatest adventure of all,” said Rubis.
Sapphrina looked me straight in the eye. “And we’re not going to miss it.”
As the innkeep had said, we had our pick of rooms. We spent the night in peace and rose early the next morning. We cooked our own breakfast, as Goatgloss had been abandoned during the night, and set out as the sun rose. It was a sunny day with a slight breeze and a mild blue sky. We headed south, leaving the Longwash behind.
By mid-morning we were riding along a dry and dusty lane between freshly ploughed fields and green pastures filled with cattle. A sprawling manor house was visible to the east and the road skirted a small cow pond just ahead. Beyond it was a stand of oak.
“Get ready for trouble,” said Mercury suddenly, the first words he had spoken all day.
“What is it?” I said, looking all about.
“I sense danger.”
A powerful horn blast split the air from the east, followed by an excited chorus of howls. Looking to the manor, I saw half a dozen shaggy gray wolves the size of ponies racing around the corner and bounding across the field toward us. They were followed by a massive rider on a roan stallion. He wore a mask and trappings of red leather and held a great black horn in his hand. He sounded a second blast and the wolves increased their hellish pace.
“I see what you mean. The Red Huntsman, I suppose?”
“Good guess,” said Merc, spurring his horse to a gallop. The rest of us followed, our frightened mounts needing little encouragement once they caught wind of the wolves.
By the time we reached the pond, it was obvious our pursuers would soon overtake us. The wolves were only sixty yards or so behind us and the Huntsman was right behind them. I glanced back and saw that he was notching an arrow to his bow. At this point, Sapphrina’s horse stumbled and fell. Her scream was cut short as she tumbled down a low bank and into the water.
I wheeled my horse about and called to her. “Come on! Get up!”
She got to her feet in the shallow water and tried to clamber up the embankment to reach my outstretched hand, but the mud was slick and she lost her footing, sitting down hard in the muck.
The lead wolf was almost upon us. I drew my sword, but in so doing lost control of my horse, which treacherously dumped me and galloped on. I somehow landed on my feet and braced for the attack. I still wasn’t a competent swordsman, but Merc had given me a few pointers. Of course, those were tips on fighting other swordsmen, not slavering, red-eyed giant wolves.
The Huntsman loosed his arrow at Merc, who had turned his own horse and come back to help. Rubis wisely kept riding for the trees. The wizard deflected the missile at the last instant with a wave of his hand. It landed harmlessly in the middle of the pond.
The wolf leaped over Sapphrina’s downed horse and flew at me, jaw open wide. I swung my sword two-handed and rapped it on the side of the muzzle with the flat of the blade. I had actually hoped to decapitate the beast. I didn’t get a second chance. I was crushed to the ground, the wolf snapping at my face.
The second wolf dove into the water after Sapphrina. All I heard was the splash. No scream. Two more wolves ran at Merc, and the last pair continued on after Rubis.
Mercury leaped clear as the wolves savaged his horse, biting through its neck and flank. As it fell, the beasts turned their attention to the wizard, who had dropped into a ready stance, sword drawn. I was using all my strength to keep the wolf atop me from biting my head off. I held on tightly to the sides of its furry neck and kept my arms extended. Hot wolf spit showered my face.
The Huntsman drew up short and notched another arrow. Merc gestured and the bowstring broke. With a shrug, the bounty hunter cast the bow aside and crossed his arms to watch the wolves do his work for him.
It occurred to me that if I could get my legs in the right position I might be able to kick the wolf off of me. I was wrong.
Beams of intense red light emanated from Merc’s sunshades and struck one of the wolves in the face. Its head burst into flame. With a horrible cry of pain it forgot about Merc and began racing about in panic as the flames spread across its body. The other wolf charged the wizard with a snarl. Merc danced to one side and sliced open the animal’s shoulder with his sword. Enraged, the wolf turned to snap at the wizard, again missing its mark. This time Merc stabbed through to its heart.
As he did so, the Huntsman released a whirling bola, which wrapped itself tightly around Mercury’s neck before he could react. Surprised, the wizard dropped his sword and went down, his shades flying off to land in the dust. The Red Huntsman dismounted to finish him.
I concocted a new strategy. By wriggling along on my back, I led the wolf to the edge of the embankment. We slid down it into the shallow water, landing atop the wolf which had gone after Sapphrina. I saw no sign of the girl herself. A couple of well-placed paws served to embed me in the muck. Now I had two wolves atop me. It was progress of sorts.
The Red Huntsman stood over Mercury, his sword raised to be plunged into the wizard’s heart. Merc rolled out of range and regained his feet, but the Huntsman mounted a furious attack, pressing him hard and keeping him on the defensive.
Through sheer brute strength, I managed to break one wolf’s neck and get the other into a position where I could hold its head under water until it drowned. Not that it was as easy as it sounds. I staggered from the pond torn, bloody, and muddy. My clothing, even my chainmail, was ruined. I started forward to help Merc.
I was blocked by the Huntsman’s stallion. The horse came at me with flying hooves and chomping teeth. I thought about trying to punch it out, but those snapping teeth made me reconsider. I gave way, backing into the pond and standing in the shallows with the dead wolves. The horse stood on the shore and eyed me like I was a big red apple it wanted to take a few bites from. Sure, I had just killed two giant wolves with my bare hands, but that didn’t mean I was eager to tackle a trained warhorse. Merc was on his own unless I could figure out a way past the beast.
He wasn’t doing well. Too stunned for magic, and hampered by the constriction of his throat, Merc was unable to move fast enough to avoid the Huntsman’s blade. The bounty hunter had cut him twice. I couldn’t imagine this scene getting any worse.
Then I heard the thunder of hooves from the north and saw nine black horses approaching. The riders were clad in the familiar uniforms of the Black Bolts. Dylan of Ganth had found us. He couldn’t have picked a more convenient time.
* * *
8
If I couldn’t leave the water, I could at least project my strength into the fray. The Red Huntsman momentarily had his back to me, so I hefted up one of the vanquished wolves at my fee
t and hurled it at its master. The dead animal knocked the Huntsman to the ground. This gave Merc enough time to magically unravel the bola from his throat and send it whirling into the skull of the Huntsman’s warhorse. The animal neighed in pain, rolled its eyes and staggered as if about to collapse. I helped it along by hitting it with the other wolf I had killed. The horse fell onto it side and lay motionless.
I scrambled out of the lake and scooped up my fallen sword. Merc’s weapon flew to his hand and together we faced the Huntsman, who had regained his feet.
“It’s a whole new battle, Huntsman,” said Merc, ignoring my lack of proficiency at swordplay and the approach of the Black Bolts in making his assessment.
The Huntsman made no move to attack. “I have no quarrel with you, Mercury Boltblaster,” he said. His deep voice was muffled by his mask. “Cosmo is my prey. Stand aside and leave him to me. You have problems of your own.” He gestured toward the oncoming Black Bolts. “Though they would be no problem to me.”
For one frightening moment, Mercury seemed to hesitate, as if seriously considering the Huntsman’s implied offer of aid against the Black Bolts in return for abandoning me.
Then the wizard snorted derisively. “Those buffoons would be no problem to a blind cripple armed with a teaspoon.”
“So be it.”
Dylan and his men drew up short of where we stood and glared at us with hostile curiosity. I noticed most of the Black Bolts wore dusty bandages somewhere on their bodies—reminders of their last encounter with Mercury. They were eager to do the wizard great bodily harm but also looked terrified at the prospect of suffering more harm themselves.
“I am the Red Huntsman,” said the Red Huntsman. “This man is mine.” He pointed his sword at me. “The wizard you may have.”
Dylan smiled. “The wizard is all we want.”