When her blades struck the bird creature’s arms, there was a ringing sound like steel striking bone or rock. It didn’t seem to do any damage to the creature’s arms or hands; it just kept striking at her. She slipped to the left, moving under a strike and to the side of the other hand. It found a target in a branch near Nalia’s head and there was a ripping, breaking sound as a chunk of the wood exploded outward. She knew she didn’t want to get hit by one of those strikes.
Nalia spun around a tree and faced her opponents again. The furry creatures had rejoined the fray, though the one with the damaged front legs did not look to be too dangerous a foe. She knew she had to end this soon or she would be overwhelmed. Even now, other creatures were arriving.
She feinted toward the bird creature, then stepped back quickly, just in time for its renewed strikes to connect with the unharmed furry creature. It screamed as the hand of its fellow tore a chunk from its side. Pivoting while dodging the hapaki creature’s claws, she brought both shrapezi down as hard as she could onto one of her feathered foe’s arms. The vibrations felt like she had struck stone, but the razor edge of the fine steel cut through the arm and separated its hand.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Nalia squatted as she spun, throwing out the blades of her swords, slicing a furrow in the bird creature’s belly with one sword, then deepening it with the other, causing its entrails to spill out. As she came up from the spin and blocked the hapaki’s claws, she could feel her hands vibrate from the contact with the toughened skin.
The two furry creatures were coming at her again, but the toughest opponent was bleeding its life out a few feet away, so now she could focus on them. One leaped at her while the other, the one with injured legs, tried to bite her with a face that was too human for comfort. She sliced the leaper open with the spikes on both shrapezi as it came toward her. Then, spinning, she delivered a double downward strike with her blades, angling them diagonally from each side and causing the other mutant’s head to fall from its twitching body.
She turned and saw the hapaki in mid-air coming at her. Rotating, she connected with a spin kick to intercept and launch the creature several feet. It hit a tree and started sliding down the trunk. Before it could do anything else, she impaled it with both hooks and ripped outward, almost tearing its body completely apart.
Nalia looked over at Sam, who was fighting with three human-shaped mutants. He seemed to be doing well, so she left him to it. There was a mass of creatures surrounding the twins, too many for them to shoot at once. She headed there to help.
She didn’t encounter any more of the tough-skinned bird mutants, though she did fight two humanoid creatures with scales like an alligator. Still, she had things well under control by the time Sam came up next to her to help with the remaining foes. When she looked over at her father, she could barely see him for the bodies of mutant creatures around him. She frowned. Sure, I had the misfortune to go against “stone skin,” causing me to win less battles. She recognized the thought as petty and competitive as soon as it entered her mind and she immediately regretted it.
When all the attackers were finally dead, they counted the bodies. There were thirty-two. Thirty-two villagers and hapaki who had been changed into mutant creatures. It made Nalia’s blood burn like fire.
The twins and Skitter were walking among the dead. Inoria was crying and Emerius had a look of anger on his face. Skitter seemed to be wandering aimlessly, stopping to look at what once was a hapaki of the destroyed community. She saw the little creature look up to Sam, his face twisted in sorrow and confusion.
Sam, on the other hand, wore none of these expressions. He was staring toward the southeast, his eyes unfocused. His teeth were clenched and his mouth was a thin line. She had never seen him look like that. It scared her.
“Sam,” she said, coming up to him and touching his arm. “Sam, are you well?”
He turned and aimed that gaze at her. His eyes were slate gray and burned from behind as if his skull was full of fire. Involuntarily, she tensed to defend herself.
His eyes lost a little bit of their intensity, softening from diamond to the finest steel, as he noticed her. Then his orbs became liquid and his gaze dropped, shoulders slumping. “Nal,” he whispered, “how can we stop this? Killing is one thing but this,” he pointed to the corpses lying nearby, “this is unnatural.”
“I know, Sam,” she said, “I know.” She wrapped him in a hug and they stood there, silent, for a full minute.
Sam sniffed, then gently pulled away from her. He straightened. “Rindu,” he said, “can you do something with the rohw, create a pit or something? At least we can bury them in a mass grave, if nothing else, to keep scavengers from picking over their bodies. Burning them in a pyre would be too dangerous in the forest.”
“I can do such a thing, Sam,” Rindu said sadly. “Though it would be honorable to ask Skitter and the twins if they would object. There are different customs involving death on Gythe and I would not wish to insult theirs.”
“Of course,” Sam said. “Thank you.”
He walked away from Nalia and questioned the twins. Nalia saw Emerius nod once and Inoria burst into tears while nodding her head vigorously. She hugged Sam, thanking him.
Sam then turned to where Skitter was sitting quietly next to one of the hapaki creatures. He got the blank look on his face. A few seconds later, Sam nodded and patted the hapaki on the head, face again full of emotion.
“Okay, Rindu, if you will,” Sam said, pointing to a location in between trees that seemed large enough to suffice. “We’ll drag the bodies to the pit you make and try to give these creatures who used to be our friends a respectful burial.”
It was hard work dragging and carrying the bodies to the pit Rindu had made, but they did it. He had vibrated a large chunk of the soil, phasing it out. Nalia wondered if that dirt was now in Telani, or somewhere else.
After all the bodies were placed in the pit, Rindu changed the vibration of the soil in a slightly different way than he had to make it go away. He phased it in slowly, a little at a time, at a height ten feet above where it had been, so that it rained down and covered the pit and the bodies.
Sam sat nearby on a fallen tree that one of the larger creatures had broken in a charge. He looked at Emerius. “Do you want to say anything?” he asked. “Most of the victims were from your village.”
The big man nodded slowly and stood. The rest of them gathered at the edge of the mound of dirt. “I’m not good with words or speeches,” Emerius said. “but something needs to be said. You all deserve at least that much.
“We’re sorry we couldn’t have been faster, that we couldn’t have been better. We’re sorry that we left you to the devices of that monster Tingai. For those of you from my village, I grew up with many of you and feel like you were all my family. For the hapaki, I have come to know that yours is a kind, gentle people, one that doesn’t deserve this kind of end. I know that in the end, if you would have had a choice, you all would have chosen death rather than life as the monstrous creatures you were made into.
“Tingai will pay for this. Not only that, but we will make sure that he will never again be able to do this to any others. We will track him down and we will destroy him and all his research so that no other can ever rise in his place. And we will stop Ayim Rasaad, who has enabled scum like Tingai to do the horrible things they do. Rest now, and be assured that your sacrifice will not have gone unnoticed. If there are any left, even one, from Blackwood or the hapaki community, we will rescue them. We swear this to you.”
Emerius dipped his head as Inoria hugged him and cried softly into his chest. Nalia saw that the big hunter had tears of his own in his eyes.
Everyone was silent for a few minutes, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Finally, Sam spoke. “I believe there is still some daylight left today. I don’t know about you,” he said, looking right at Emerius, “but I for one would like to spend it getting nearer to Tingai and Rasaad so we can �
�discuss’ with them what happened here today.”
Emerius looked at Sam, green eyes meeting slate gray. A small, wicked smile crept on to his face. “Hells yes,” he said, and headed toward Oro.
Chapter 42
The way he saw it, Emerius Dinn had always been strong: physically, mentally, and in every other way. He had always believed himself impervious to the emotions that others felt. After all, heroes weren’t affected by such petty things as emotions, right? As he sat in his room at Whitehall, having just come back from the battle with the mutant creatures that were once his friends, he wasn’t so sure.
The scar on his arm where he had been cut by that arrow in the first ambush itched. He went to scratch it but heard his mother’s voice, “Em, don’t scratch at your scabs or they will never heal.” His hand dropped to his lap.
Growing up, Emerius had always been focused, diligent in his training. Whenever his father taught him and his sister new things, he hungrily snapped it up, knowing that only by putting his whole mind, heart, and body into it would he become great. Great like Suka Templar, his hero and idol.
In an age where there were heroes everywhere, Suka was the most distinguished. Other heroes had special powers. Some could use energy like the Zouyim, some had technology that gave them an edge, some had the gift of seeing that was so refined that they knew when and how attacks would come and so could manipulate events so that they were always victorious.
Suka Templar had none of these things. His was the power of a will so strong that he could train for days at a time without sleep and thereby refine his fighting skills to such a level that he was unbeatable. His was the power of such keen intellect that he could crack any puzzle and could be inventive on the fly. Simply stated, Suka Templar had the perfect combination of mind and body. And he used it, but not for his own gain or for some ruler who had hired him. He used all his skills and abilities on behalf of the common people. He was unblemished, incorruptible, and supreme.
Emerius remembered the first tale he heard of the ancient hero. He and his sister were only six years old. Their father had sat them down before bed to tell them a story.
“I’m going to tell you about the greatest of heroes, of Suka Templar, and how he defeated the deadly Seven of Sondria.” Emerius remembered his excitement. He loved it when his father told him stories, but he especially loved stories about heroes.
“Suka Templar was born to a poor farming family and, as such, no one really expected anything more from him than that he would become a hardworking farmer, raising a family and carrying on as generations of his family had done before.
“But that could not be further from the truth, for Suka had a special gift, a talent that would make him great. Now, his talent was not all that uncommon. Others had the same gift as Suka, but with him, it was merely a catalyst to greater things.
“You see, Suka was a fast learner and had a keen mind. More importantly, though, he had a willpower that was as strong as stone, as powerful as a waterfall. Armed with this, he was able to utilize his other talents.
“He would often search for riddles and mysteries when he was a child. Once he set himself on the path to knowing a thing, he would not stop until he fully understood it. So it was the first time he picked up a bow, and a sword, and his famous throwing knives. He wanted more than just to be proficient, more than to be skilled. He wanted to know why things happened the way that they did. He wanted to know why an arrow flew straight, or why it didn’t when one of the fletchings was damaged. He made a study of these things and from his study grew understanding.”
Their father had looked at the twins then, to make sure they understood. He tapped his temple with his finger. “Suka’s greatest weapon was his ability to think, and then to use his tremendous will to prepare for any situation.
“When he was only sixteen, Suka had already left his family’s farm, having already done great deeds by this point. He was getting a reputation as a hero and wanted to go where he could do the most good. His family, supportive and proud of what he had already accomplished, said their fond goodbyes and told him that he would always have a place with them, when he grew tired of being a hero.
“As he was passing through the area known as Sondria—it was the name of a large city as well as the surrounding lands—he met a family on the road. They were bedraggled and despondent, carrying only a few ratty personal possessions.
“‘We are fleeing to the South,’ they told him when he asked. ‘The seven roam the land and take sport in snatching our young women, and sometimes young men, for their own pleasure.’
“Suka could not believe what he was hearing. ‘Are there no lords or ministers to protect common folk?’ he asked the man.
“‘No,’ the man said sadly, ‘for the seven are the local lords.’
“Suka’s surprise was palpable, as was his anger. He swore to end this farce. ‘Lords should protect the smallfolk,’ he said to the man. ‘I will drive them from the land.’
“The man had laughed at this sixteen-year-old boy. ‘Better if you turn around and go back from where you came,’ he told Suka. ‘Many strong heroes have tried to defeat even one or two of the seven. Their corpses are all rotting in the sun.’
“Suka didn’t answer for a moment, then he simply said, ‘Keep your ears open, old man. In a week’s time, listen for the tale of the end of the Seven at the hands of Suka Templar.’ With that, he continued on the road, already preparing himself mentally for his next challenge.
“It was soon clear that the entire countryside was in fear of the Seven. Most people would not even talk to Suka to give him information. Those who did, normally ones who were fleeing, all said the same thing: the Seven were invincible and the only thing to do was to escape. It made a rage build in Suka’s heart that he could hardly contain.
“But Suka Templar was not brash, though he was young. He paid an old peasant man a month’s wages to trade cloaks with him, his fine cloak that had been a gift from wealthy man Suka had saved for the threadbare cloak of a poverty-stricken commoner. The cloak was too large for him, but that worked to his advantage, helping to conceal his clothes and weapons. Armed with this simple disguise, the young hero made his way to the city of Sondria, determined to obtain information he could use to defeat the Seven.
“‘I tell ya, Flin,’ a toothless, skinny beggar said to another, ‘I saw it. The arrow went clean through his throat. He was gurgling and dropped to the ground. He was dead. Couldn’t have survived that. Well, after the other three killed the hero, they drug the body back to their mansion. The next day, I seen him riding along with the others, like nothing had ever happened. I tell ya, it’s the worst kind of magic. Them Seven can’t be killed. ‘Least, they can’t be killed permanent-like.’
“Suka heard the exchange and began to think. He spent some time in one of the local taverns, shocked by how quiet and reserved it was. It was as if all the people were just waiting for an executioner’s ax. By nightfall, he knew what he must do.
“A few years earlier, he had observed a thief at his work. Fascinated, he followed the man, watching his every movement, analyzing why he did things the way he did. When the burglar had set his hands on what he meant to steal, Suka had stopped him. He told him that for the lesson he had provided, he would let the man go, but only if he swore never to steal again. When the thief heard the name of the one he was talking to, he quickly swore his oath and was not seen in the area after that. The young hero hoped he had made good on his promise and not just moved to another location. Regardless, with a few more days of thinking and a few days of practicing, Suka had developed the skill to move quietly and to infiltrate places he was not supposed to be. Those skills served him well that night in Sondria.
“He snuck into the mansion and listened as servants spoke of a room that was forbidden to all but the Seven. He was soon outside the room, trying to see in the window, but he could not. He entered the mansion through the room just beside it and heard two men talking.
“‘I’m bored with this chattel,’ one said. ‘I want livelier sport. The merchant’s daughter, now there is a game I’d like to play.’ The other man responded in a deeper voice, ‘We have agreements with the merchant. His family is off-limits. Find your fun somewhere else. Go to another town, why don’t you.’
“Suka listened carefully. He knew that the things about which a man speaks can be exploited as weaknesses. ‘You know as well as I that it’s not safe to go too far from the Giswych. With our reputation, some hero will gather a group of men and kill me. I’ll be too far from it to be brought back in time to live again. Besides, outside the circle of its influence, the magic doesn’t work. I’ll be almost as weak as you.’ The man laughed, but the other did not. ‘Very funny,’ the deeper voice said.
“That was it, the information Suka Templar needed. He stealthily left the mansion grounds and took a room at a local inn. The next day, he would put his plan into action.
“In the morning, Suka was up before the sunrise. He gathered his weapons and positioned himself near the front of the mansion. He waited. A few hours later, four of the Seven rode out of the stables on their manu. From his gathering of information, Suka knew who they were and, more importantly, knew who were still in the mansion. After the four were well away, he snuck back into the home, evading any eyes that might have spotted him.
“Inside, he encountered one of the remaining three lords at the base of the grand staircase. He shot three arrows in the space of a heartbeat, but was surprised when the man dodged two completely and was only clipped by the third. The man yelled for his companions and ran at Suka.
“Thinking quickly, he fired three more arrows, but this time, he fired not at where the man was, but at where he would be. Predicting how he would dodge, the first arrow made him move to the left slightly, the second made him duck low, but the third struck him in the eye as he evaded the others. The first of the Seven was dead. At least for the time being.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 84