by Kal Spriggs
Behind Grel, he saw that the man's mercenaries had gathered and sparks of the same baleful green glow burned in their eyes now as well. They were going to charge and he looked over his shoulder to see his own men level their spears as they advanced to meet that charge... with Aerion and Grel at the center, right where the two forces would clash.
“Yes, boy,” Grel snarled. The baleful energy in his eyes pulsed, “You should run now.”
***
Chapter Sixteen
Commander Kerrel Flamehair
Near Tucola Lake, Zielona Gora Barony, Duchy of Masov
8th of Karag, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Kerrel sat up with a scream as she felt fire burn through her. She felt hands hold her, but she threw them off as she rolled over and her stomach roiled and heaved.
Black slime exploded out of her mouth as her body rejected the filth. It burned like acid as it blasted out of her nose and mouth. She shuddered and then heaved again and more of the disgusting mix spewed forth, this time with what looked like green fibers that had burs and barbs that sliced at her mouth and nose as she forced them out.
She shuddered again and collapsed into the arms that held her. For a long moment, all she could do was breath and shake. She recognized Jay's smell even over the stench of vomit and she clung to him for a long moment. “Thank you,” she croaked.
“You're welcome,” he said softly.
“What, no thanks to the woman who saved you?” a voice asked with mock anger.
Kerrel looked up tiredly and saw a short woman with, of all things, purple hair. Behind her there was a big cat of some kind, drowsily snoring in the corner. “What happened?” she asked. Some part of her was horrified at how her voice sounded: weak and raspy.
“You nearly died,” Jonal said. Her cousin looked exhausted. “Jay – I didn't recognize him earlier – brought you in, after you'd been attacked at the Ryftguard. He said Grel attacked you.”
Kerrel grimaced, “It must have been him.” She shuddered again as she remembered the pain of that strike, how her entire world had vanished into nothing more than agony. “He's working with someone, a wizard...”
“Sorcerer,” the purple haired woman said calmly, “talented one too, else even the pathetic skills of the lout there might have saved you without my help. However he attacked you, he put a parasite in you, that was eating you up from the inside... body, mind, and soul.”
Kerrel looked down at the mess she had vomited up. The black slime clustered around the green fibers and it seemed to stubbornly refuse to puddle away or soak into the ground. “What do we do with that?” she asked.
“Burn it,” Jay said. The purple-haired woman nodded.
Kerrel shook her head again, “I'm sorry, who are you?” she asked of the woman.
“I'm Brooke, the mage who saved your life,” she nodded. “Don't worry, you don't owe me anything... I'm just settling a debt with the changling there, though if I'd known this was true sorcery I probably would have come anyway.” She cocked her head, “You'll be weak for a few days, maybe a week, but you should have no long-term ill effects.”
Kerrel pushed away from Jay and stood, shakily to her feet. “What's going on, how long have I been out?” It felt like pain had ruled her for cycles, but surely it hadn't been more than a few hours or days.
“Three months,” Baran said grimly.
“Three months?” Kerrel felt the blood drain from her face. What had Darkbit and Grel told Hector in that time? For that matter, what had happened to their chance at resolving this before it came to full war? “Tell me what is going on.”
Jonal spoke then, his voice grim, “Darkbit went all the way back to Lower Debber and then started giving all kinds of orders to the companies under him. First he ordered them to take hostages... then he ordered them to execute them. Zielona Gora rebelled, their garrison went over to the locals, after Captain Wallace refused to follow Covle Darkbit's orders, called him a 'sadistic bastard.'”
Kerrel snorted at that, “True enough, I think I'd like to meet Captain Wallace.”
“That would be difficult,” Baran said. “Darkbit called in all his garrisons and he marched on Zielona Gora, he said he would make an example of the town.”
Kerrel's face went pale as she saw the implications. “He and Grel will butcher the town, there will be no chance of peace after that kind of atrocity.”
Jay nodded. “That's what it looks like.”
“They started the attack this morning. We can see the smoke from the fires here,” Jonal said. He spat to the side, “Darkbit tried to get us to attack, but I said we were waiting on orders from Hector. He didn't push it, he's got enough men to take the town.”
Kerrel shuddered. “Alright, bring up Nightwhisper, get the men ready, we're going to order Darkbit to stand down.”
Jonal hesitated, “He's got an entire army under his command...”
“No,” Kerrel said, “He's got a rabble of looters and rapists right now. He might have a company or two in reserve and we can handle those if he decides to disobey me. Now move.”
She reached out and clung to the tent pole as they hurried to obey her. She looked over at Jay. “I'm sorry if I went and ruined all your plans by getting stabbed.”
He just shook his head, “My fault, I should have been more careful. I'm just glad I didn't fail you, like I did Moira.”
She could see the raw anguish in his eyes and she shook her head. “No, Jay, you served my mother well, you protected both of us as best you could. No one could have expected that Othis would be so stupid.” I should have expected it, she thought, but Jay was the outsider, he expected even a bastard like Othis to keep his word. “I assume you've been here with me since I was wounded?”
He nodded and she felt better at that confirmation. Jay had been her protector then and before and somehow it felt right that he had stood over her while she was wounded. She knew how involved he was in the restoration of the High Kings... that he had thrown away all his plans to save her meant a great deal to her.
“This doesn't need to be reported to my mother,” Kerrel cautioned.
His eyes narrowed and he stroked his chin in thought, “Well... we'll have to see about that. I might be persuaded if you were to get a bottle or two of Iron Fortress Vintage.”
Her eyes narrowed in turn, “One bottle... or my next letter to her might mention that I was stabbed in your company.”
He snorted, “As always, young one, you drive a hard bargain.”
Before she could say more, he cleared his throat and pointed at her armor. “You might want to start putting that on, you know, to be a bit more imposing. Not to mention safe. Safety would be a good thing after your little brush with death.”
She flushed at that, but she went over to her armor rack. She saw the jagged hole in the back of her cuirass, where the dagger had punched through not just the plate itself, but the high magic runes that had strengthened it in order to prevent such an attack. Powerful wizardry and powerful sorcery, she thought, it seems our assumption that Grel works for the enemy is not far wrong.
She started to pick it up but her hands began to tremble. She looked at Jay and hesitated.“Can you...” she trailed off. She hadn't needed help with her armor since she was a child. “Can you help me?”
“Of course,” Jay said. He didn't so much as peek at her as she stripped out of the filthy linens and then into her padded armor. He helped her gently as she donned the armor. The weight both seemed to crush her and at the same time, brace her. Her fingers, though, kept brushing the hole in the back of her armor.
“You should get that mended,” Jay said with a smirk.
“You think?” Kerrel asked. Yet she had no idea how she might get it truly fixed. The Fire Wizards in Asador might do it, but it wasn't as if she could go there. Nor did she have time to send it off to be repaired. Replacing it would cost a small fortune and might take weeks or months.
At last though, she was fully kitted out and he helped h
er to step out of the tent. The overcast day was blinding after the dimness of the tent and she wondered how long it had been since she saw sunlight. She felt a sudden urge to see the sun, but that would have to wait, she knew.
Nightwhisper sidled up to her and it was a sign of how badly injured she'd been that he didn't try to bite her or step on her for her absence. Instead he stared at her with an almost pathetic gentleness and she patted him. “I'm alright now, you big fool.”
Jay helped her into the saddle and a moment later, hopped back as Nightwhisper's teeth slammed closed only an inch away from his right ear. “Damned horse,” Jay growled.
“He's just showing that he appreciates you,” Kerrel said with a smirk. She saw that her men hadn't bothered to break camp, they would leave sentries to watch it, but most of them had formed up already. She looked at Jay, “I have to go, will you be here when I get back?”
He gave her a nod, “Of course.” The response meant more to her than she felt comfortable admitting. She just gave him a nod and clicked at Nightwhisper. “Alright, let's go stop a war.”
***
Aerion Swordbreaker
Aerion stumbled back again as another hit from Grel's sword made his whole left side sting. His armor had stopped the strike, but it had still sent him stumbling away.
To his sides he saw that the mercenaries had collided with his company and, for now anyway, Ghost Company held against them. The racket as they hammered at each other was overwhelming. Yet, both sides had left an open area for Grel and Aerion to fight. Aerion wasn't certain if that was just some sense of survival or if neither side wanted to interrupt the fight. Certainly Aerion knew that Grel would not hesitate to kill one of his own men if he interrupted his sport.
Grel seemed to enjoy dishing out the punishment and hadn't yet tried for a killing blow, once he realized that Aerion's armor could blunt his attacks. He could have, Aerion knew, tried for his arm or leg where the scale didn't cover, but the big man seemed to enjoy the game too much.
Aerion came back to his feet and he advanced on the brute. The Starblade smoked and smoldered with Grel's blood, much as it had when he'd killed a Noric demon. Whatever Grel was now, he wasn't entirely human anymore.
Grel smiled and came in, this time with a lunging, two-handed thrust. Aerion, though, deflected the strike with his shield and then trapped Grel's blade. He didn't have the strength to hold the man for longer than a second, but that was long enough for Aerion to plunge his sword through Grel's breastplate and into the man's heart.
For the first time, Aerion saw pain on the man's face, but before he could do more, Grel let go of his sword with one arm and backhanded Aerion across the side of his head. Even with his helmet, the blow made his ears ring and sent him stumbling back. Only then did he realize that he had lost the grip of the Starblade, left in the man's chest.
Aerion shook his head clear and fought the ringing in his ears and looked back at Grel. With horror, he watched the man grimace and pull on the hilt of the blade in his chest. It came out, the blood on its blade spurting with flame, like oil set alight. Grel drew the full length out of his chest and then cast the blade to the ground. “Your broken trinket is not enough for this task, boy.”
Aerion shook his head in disbelief, what was Grel? Even as Aerion watched, the warrior's wound knit itself together, first tissue, then bone, then flesh over it all. He knew the strike had been good. It must have penetrated the mercenary's lungs, if not his very heart. If that wasn't enough to kill him, what would be?
Aerion didn't know how to answer that, but he would have to figure it out. Grel came in at him again, only now Aerion had no weapon, had nothing besides his shield and armor, and the baleful green glow in Grel's eyes burned brighter than before. Clearly, whatever drove him sought to end the fight. The first strike came in fast, faster than any before and Aerion barely blocked it. Even with the shield's runic enhancements, the strike sent him stumbling back. Before Aerion could even find his balance, Grel struck a second time, another two handed strike that came far faster than any normal human could move. Blocking it nearly jerked the shield out of Aerion's hands and made him stumble almost into the melee behind him. I'm out of time, Aerion realized with despair, I've failed.
Again the big man attacked, a huge overhand blow that should have come slow enough for Aerion to move, but instead he barely deflected it with his shield and the weight of the attack still drove him to his knees on the hard cobblestones of the square.
“Yes, Bearer,” the voice spoke, “kneel before me.” Grel looked around, “This is where you should have died before, boy, how wonderful that I get to take your life here, after all.” Grel drew his arm back for another strike. Aerion had no weapon that could hurt him, nothing to counter him.
No, Aerion thought as he shook his head, not a weapon... Aerion gave a cry and leapt forward. His fingers activated the runes on the back of his shield even as he slammed the front of it into Grel's chest.
The energy stored over the past few weeks from training and then from his short but brutal fight with Grel was released in one, coherent, detonation, centered upon Grel's sternum.
The shock blasted him backwards. For a moment he saw blood and bits of flesh explode outward and then he saw stars as he struck the cobblestones of the square. Aerion sat up and shook his head as the world spun. A dozen feet away, Grel struggled to set up, but the mercenary's chest was a ruin, blood and organs ripped open and his chest cavity steamed in the air. Aerion stumbled to his feet and moved over to take up the Starblade and then stand over his enemy. Grel's face was drawn in pain, yet his dark eyes were twin pits of hell. He choked and then spat a stream of phlegm and blood. “Free... me,” Grel gasped.
Aerion didn't have to ask what the man meant. The baleful green glow was gone from his eyes... but Aerion could see that black and green fibers ran throughout Grel's flesh, wound through his organs and over his bones like some flesh-eating, vine-like plant. Aerion stepped forward and chopped down with all his strength... and Grel's head bounced away.
Aerion looked up at the mercenaries, many of whom looked around at each other as if stunned. Behind him, the men of Ghost Company advanced with a shout. Some of the mercenaries looked behind them and started to back away. Aerion raised his sword, “Forward!” He lifted the Starblade high and its blade glowed with energy as he waved it to signal the advance. He gave one last shout before he ran forward at the enemy and the men of Ghost Company followed him.
***
Commander Covle Darkbit
Covle grimaced as he looked at the town. While he saw some columns of smoke, he had expected the town to be entirely engulfed at this point. Certainly he had seen his forces go over the walls already. He glanced up at the overcast sky and sniffed at the air, half afraid it might start to rain and put out the fires.
It almost smelled like snow, but that just made him smile as he thought of the refugees freezing to death in the winter to come. The mewling peasants thought their own lives mattered, did they? Well, he would remind them of their places in the scheme of things.
Already he had plans for his share of the looting. He was certain some of the companies would try to hide their full take, but that was fine. He could buy plenty of good wine and food with what he took, and the fact that several of his debtors lived in the town was a bit of spice for the dish.
He looked over his shoulder and he frowned, “Where has Captain Ironhelm's company gone? I ordered him to remain as a reserve.”
One of his guards shrugged, “I don't know, sir.”
Covle grimaced at that. After Rasev's little threat, he had chosen to take a few of Grel's men as his guards. They were somewhat lacking in both intelligence and initiative. He looked over at his aide. “Go find out where they've gone.” The last thing he wanted was for Rasev to be out of position in case he needed to send the man and his company into the city.
Or more importantly, he thought, in case I need him to guard my withdrawal.
He lo
oked up as he saw the aide come running back. “Well, did you find him?”
“Uh, no, sir,” the aide gasped. “But the Flamebrands are coming down the road. They'll be here in a few moments.”
Covle licked his suddenly dry lips as he looked around. Without Rasev, he was alone but for his small escort. If the Flamebrands even suspected his role in Kerrel's mortal wound, they might take it into their heads to get some kind of revenge against him. At least I know the whore will be dead soon if she hasn't already died, he thought. The fact that she had lived so long impressed him. “Bring up the horses,” he said. He might have time to ride out if they gave him enough time to mount and arrange his escort to delay them.
They didn't give him that time, however. As his men brought up his horses, the Flamebrands encircled him and his escort. “What is the meaning of this?” Covle demanded. “I am the Commander of the South in Lord Hector's name!”
A rider came forward and drew off her helmet. Covle hissed in surprise as he saw her face. It is impossible, he thought, I stabbed her with the dagger as Xavien told me, he promised that she would die. Xavien had never failed at anything before now.
“Covle Darkbit, call back your forces. Withdraw them, now,” she said, her voice sharp.
Covle smiled weakly, “Commander Flamehair, what a surprise. I am so glad that you're returned to good health, but I don't think you are fully apprised of the situation...”
“Call back your men now,” Kerrel said, “or I will have to arrest you for treason. You know as well as I do, that the causes for this insurrection lie at your feet.”
Covle ground his teeth, but he nodded at his signaler. “I can't promise that all of them will hear the signal to withdraw,” he said and he didn't bother to hide his sullenness. How had the woman survived?