The poor beast reared as they came together and he came up under its right shoulder as it flailed and tried to keep from losing its balance. With a shock he straightened up as he passed under the horse and drove all of his momentum up and forward; the move cost him most of his forward speed, yet after stumbling drunkenly for several yards he was able to regain his rhythm and begin running again. The horse he had struck was nowhere to be seen but he didn’t pause to ponder that mystery, choosing instead to focus on catching up to Penny and her abductors. They had gained several tens of yards in distance after his collision.
Dorian ran on. His breath was coming heavily now, and he was starting to stagger every so often as he ran, but he didn’t slow. His mouth tasted of blood and iron while his lungs sounded like a raspy set of bellows, but he ran on. Those he was chasing didn’t make the mistake of sending anyone else back to delay him, but he saw Ruth looking over her shoulder frequently. She seemed surprised at his perseverance, and she didn’t give the impression that she surprised easily. Dorian grinned at the thought.
Long minutes passed and still his chase continued. They had turned off of the road near the forest, a mile or so from Lancaster, and now they were following a small trail. They had probably planned the route in advance to help avoid any patrols or pursuit, but they hadn’t counted on Dorian. The smaller trail with its tendency to wander and the occasional low limb forced the riders to slow even more and now Dorian was gaining rapidly. He was now within ten yards of the last horse, an unused palfrey following the rearmost armsman’s mount. The man had wrapped its reins loosely around the front of his saddle, keeping his hands free while he nervously watched Dorian closing on them.
The rider’s face was a study in fear as he watched Dorian draw close, till he was almost able to touch the free horse the man was leading. Drawing his sword in one economical motion Dorian neatly severed the left rear leg of the horse several feet from the ground. Screaming in pain the animal fell and began tumbling; its cries of pain combined with the jerking of the lead rope connecting it to the horse ahead of it created instant pandemonium. In seconds the trail was littered with the bodies of both horses along with the unfortunate rider.
Dorian ignored the carnage and ran on, though he was forced to leap over one of the horses as it fell. He regretted killing the horses, but at the time he had only one thought on his mind… the two people he was charged with protecting.
Ruth rode in the lead, with Penny in front of her and looking backward she gauged Dorian’s distance carefully. The look on her face worried him for a moment for it had changed. It was no longer the face of someone desperate to escape but rather the face of someone planning their next move. Drawing her sword she cut the lead line that tethered Miriam’s mount to hers, leaving the unguided horse to drift away. Then she faced forward again and leaned to the left, stretching out her sword arm, as if she meant to cut down an invisible foe.
Her action puzzled Dorian until he saw the rope, which she gracefully cut in two as she rode past, and then he felt the rumble in the ground. It was one of the oldest and simplest traps, a deadfall of cut logs piled and braced up and to the left of the trail. Once the rope was cut the supports keeping the timbers in place fell away and the logs began rolling sideways across the trail, sweeping horses and men away, like some wooden tide. The only one that escaped the trap was Ruth… along with Penny naturally.
The horse bearing Miriam’s body went down as its legs were swept sideways by the first of the rolling timbers. Luckily her ‘mount’ had been slowing down already and Dorian was nearly beside it when the cascade of logs arrived. Leaping forward he caught her as her body tumbled from its back and without knowing what else to do he dropped to the ground and tried to shield her body with his own. Chance as much as good reflexes allowed him to get her onto the ground so he could cover her body with his own before the rest of the wooden avalanche arrived.
The cut logs averaged more than a foot in diameter and they thundered and bounced across the trail, sometimes bouncing over him and occasionally glancing off of his shoulders and back. The impacts came with tremendous force and Dorian was driven hard into the ground, until he feared he might crush Miriam with his own body. Then the logs stopped coming and silence rose up suddenly in the aftermath.
Examining himself he saw that his arms had been driven into the ground past his elbows, and one knee had gouged a deep divot into the earth. Yet somehow both he and Miriam were still whole, though he still was unsure if she was alive or if he had wasted his time protecting a corpse. Everyone else, both the remaining riders and their horses were strewn, broken and mangled across the trail. It was very apparent that they were dead, though one horse was still whinnying pitifully as it died.
Pushing carefully away from the earth Dorian pulled himself free and shook the dirt loose before picking up Miriam’s still body. He carried her to the verge of the trail and laid her gently among the ferns, away from the area the logs had torn up. As he did he noticed blood seeping down his armor, staining both of his gauntleted hands where they touched her. Somewhere within the seemingly invincible plate he wore he was bleeding… probably in several places, though he couldn’t see any place where the armor had been breached or compromised.
One rider had escaped, Ruth, and with her she carried Penny. The two of them were no longer in sight but Dorian could hear the sound of the horse bearing them away. Standing upright he began walking, following the direction they had gone down the trail. His body had become a throbbing mass of pain and now that he had stopped running Dorian wondered how he had managed to do it for so long. Exhaustion and weariness had taken on entirely new levels of meaning for him.
“Faster… I have to move faster,” he told himself, urging his legs to move more quickly. Each step was agony but his legs did seem to be responding, though he couldn’t seem to manage to get past a fast walk. This went on for several minutes, while the sound of Ruth’s horse got further and further distant. Eventually he could no longer hear it at all, yet he continued to walk.
After an indeterminate time, in which the only sounds to be heard were those of his labored breathing and the noise made by his armor as he walked, he heard something new. It was the cry of a horse in pain followed by a heavy thumping sound, as if something heavy had struck the soft earth. This was followed by the sound of Penny swearing, until her voice was cut short. Silence followed.
Without realizing it Dorian had begun to run again. Energy he knew he did not possess was flowing into him and his battered body responded by running faster. Droplets of blood flew from his hands as his arms and legs churned with increasing speed. He raced forward and his pain receded into the back of his mind.
“Cut me loose!” he heard Penny shout. “I can help. At least let me defend myself!”
He knew he was close now and then he saw the forms of people ahead of him on the trail, a lot of people. They were heading along the path in the same direction he was, so most of their backs were to him. As he approached some of them turned and their emotionless stares brought the truth to his mind. Shiggreth!
Memories of that night over a year past, when he had fought a mob of them outside of Washbrook, came flooding into his head. Everything about them seemed familiar, from the strange unnatural movements to the expressionless faces. He drew his sword in a fluid motion and without slowing he drove through them, cutting aside anything that blocked his path.
The throng of shiggreth seemed endless until suddenly he broke through and found himself standing in a small clearing in the forest. Penny and Ruth stood in the center of it, next to a crippled horse. At a glance it appeared the poor beast had stepped into a shallow concealed trench, breaking both of its forelegs. Beyond the two women were more of the undead, and looking to the sides he could see them there as well… they were completely surrounded.
This is bad, really, really bad, he thought to himself. He reached the two women in seconds and wordlessly the three of them formed a triangle, each of them
facing outward. Ruth had already cut Penny’s bonds and given her a sword to use. Apparently she knew enough about the shiggreth to realize their personal issues were no longer the priority.
Dorian estimated their enemy numbered at least a couple of hundred strong, which wasn’t encouraging. “I get the feeling this wasn’t part of your plan,” he said loudly over his shoulder.
“No,” Ruth answered, “it appears to be a deliberate ambush though.”
“They’ve never shown signs of being able to plan ahead like this before,” Penny interjected.
“According to the histories they were just as intelligent as men,” Ruth replied. “At least that’s what my teacher said,” she added.
“Who was your teacher?” Penny asked.
“Cyhan,” was Ruth’s reply.
“That explains a few things,” muttered Dorian, but he had barely finished speaking before the shiggreth closed in on them. None of them had time to talk after that.
The battle, if it could be called such, was short and bitter. In the open, surrounded by foes and with plenty of room Dorian wished he had the great sword he had talked to Mort about. It would have been the perfect situation for such a weapon. Instead he made do with his long sword, though he had no shield or dagger to complement it.
Of the three of them he was the only one protected from their foes weakening touch. Despite their best efforts Penny and Ruth were overcome almost immediately. He saw them dragging Ruth away while she struggled uselessly, her sword cutting flesh that could not feel its bite. Penny grew faint after being touched several times and collapsed to the ground. She might have been drawn away as well, but for the fact that he stood over her, cutting away arms and legs as they reached for her.
Standing alone he fought for an unknown time. It certainly seemed like an eternity. Despite their numbers they could not drag him down, as they once had, though they mobbed him in droves. Hands gripped his arms and legs yet he moved anyway, dragging them along as he hewed their fellows into pieces. Cutting and cursing he fought under the weight of their numbers until at the last he felt Penny dragged from beneath him as his own legs were lifted up.
He fought on, though he knew he had already failed. She was dead already and his best friend’s child with her. Tears appeared in his eyes and he wept with sorrow and rage even as the mob bore him up. The sun and sky seemed to mock his tragedy as the countless numbers of his foes tried to strip the armor from his limbs. His struggle went on hopelessly and it was a long time before the trees were cloaked in silence again.
Chapter 19
It took me several jumps to get my entire entourage to my house in Albamarl. I took Sir Harold and my honor guard first before bringing Lady Rose on the final trip. Including Harold I had ten men with me, all of them armed and well acquainted with battle. Unlike most of the nobility in Albamarl I had a large number of veteran warriors now, men who had already faced death once and were ready to do so again.
Dorian and Harold had spent an excessive amount of time worrying over which men to send with me and I had no doubts that some of them were being considered for eventual induction into the Knights of Stone.
Marc took a long look at Sir Harold, resplendent in his enchanted plate, and the other armed and armored men that had come with me. “You’ve decided to invade the capital?” he asked.
I laughed. “Not yet, I think the king can be trusted to hold to his end of the agreement.”
“Ten men won’t be enough if he doesn’t, not even with that one,” he replied, pointing to Harold. “Where did you get that armor?”
“I’ll explain that later, for now suffice to say that Sir Harold here is much more of a threat than he appears,” I said.
“Glad to make your acquaintance my lord,” Harold said politely with a small bow in Marcus’ direction.
Marc gave him his full attention, “I’m not a lord anymore. I surrendered those rights already. Still I am happy to have met you as well, though we were not properly introduced.” He gave me a pointed stare as he said that last part. “If you’re going to start knighting people you need to learn better etiquette Mort,” he added for my benefit.
“Actually, since you ‘surrendered your rights’ as you put it, he isn’t required to introduce anyone to you,” Rose informed him with a wicked smile.
Marc winced visibly, “Ouch Rose! I see you haven’t lost your sharp wit.” He waved us all down the corridor toward the stairs leading to the first floor. “Would you like some wine? I took the trouble of restocking Mort’s cellar while I’ve been here.”
I gave him a sharp glance.
“Don’t worry I haven’t been over doing it. Our promise still stands,” he reassured me quietly.
Several minutes later we were all seated in the front parlor on the ground floor, sipping at our wine. I tried to have the honor guard join us but Harold explained that would only make them more uncomfortable. Instead he set them the task of figuring out their sleeping arrangements in the guest bedrooms.
“We’ve had a lot of excitement here since you left,” Marc began.
“It’s only been two weeks, I wouldn’t think a shut in would see much in that period of time,” I commented with a grin.
He gave me a somber look, “It wasn’t necessarily good excitement if you take my meaning.”
“How about we stop talking and you fill us in,” I answered.
Lady Rose snorted with suppressed laughter at that but she held her tongue and we let Marc give us the news. “The Baron of Arundel has been executed,” Marc said bluntly. I gaped but Rose leaned over and put her hand over my mouth before I could speak. I unconsciously noted that she smelled pleasantly of lavender.
Marc continued, “Two weeks ago, immediately after you met with the king, he announced that the Baron had entered the royal palace and attempted to assassinate him during a personal meeting. Apparently this was Baron Arundel’s reaction to being notified that he would be stripped of his lands for his cowardly behavior during the recent war with Gododdin.”
“That’s bullshit!” I exclaimed.
Rose looked at me crossly, “Would you just let him finish?”
I closed my mouth and Marc looked back and forth between us a few times, trying not to smile. Finally he went on, “He was apprehended red handed inside the palace. According to his majesty he slew four priests, one of each of the various churches, before then attempting to take the king’s life. Several guards stopped him and by their accounts the blood and violence in and near the king’s chambers was something remarkable to behold. I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that would you Mordecai?”
“You know damn well what happened in there, I told you myself,” I said.
Rose broke in, “Don’t goad him Marcus. What else happened?”
“Poor Sheldon was taken into custody, clapped in irons and the next day he was marched to the gallows. He was kept bound and gagged and was hanged without preamble, pretext, or even being allowed last words,” he said smugly. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow if you ask me.”
Sheldon was the baron’s first name as I recalled from our brief and unpleasant meetings half a year ago. “But he was a lord!” I protested. “Isn’t there some sort of rule about executing nobility?” I didn’t bother bringing up the matter of his actual innocence. I had been in the circles of the powerful long enough to know that guilt or innocence were tools of convenience for those in control.
“The king retains the right of high justice,” Rose informed us. High justice, in case you were wondering was what the courts called cases involving the death penalty. She continued, “In a case involving treason or a direct assault upon his person he is well within his right to bypass the Lord High Justicer and pass sentence directly upon the offender without trial.”
In a moment of exceptional wisdom I closed my mouth and tried to think things through. Obviously Sheldon had been innocent of the charge, but that was irrelevant. What really mattered was why the king had chosen to
execute him after our conversation.
Marc spoke first, “You were a real inconvenience to his majesty, but after your meeting with him your circumstances changed. Now, assuming he can capitalize upon your heroic efforts in the war, you could be a great asset to him.”
“Which would tend to make Lord Arundel’s position a complete reversal of that,” Rose added.
Marc nodded, “On top of that, Edward had a rather large mess that needed an explanation…”
“And he decided to kill two birds with one stone,” she finished for him. “Though it might be better to say he killed one bird to take care of two problems.” The two of them were nodding and smiling smugly at each other, seemingly satisfied with their mutual cleverness.
I put up a hand as though I were in class, trying to get the tutor’s attention. Neither of them noticed. “What is truly amazing,” said Marc “is how quickly he came to a decision after Mort left.”
“Excuse me…” I said.
They both ignored me as Rose spoke again, “He’s been the monarch for a long time, but it really is frightening how quickly he came to such an effective choice. Most men would have blundered or hesitated.”
“Hey!” I said loudly, waving a hand between the two of them. They paused to grace me with curious looks. “Would either of you political masterminds care to explain this to me in terms an ex-commoner can understand?”
“I’ve never thought of you as a commoner,” Marc objected.
Rose pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well he is a little common you have to admit Marcus.”
The Archmage unbound m-3 Page 19