Steel, Blood & Fire (Immortal Treachery Book 1)

by Allan Batchelder

  Whenever he and his driver returned to the wagon, though, Vykers was invariably treated to fresh game the Five had killed, usually without need of weapons. He was of two minds about this: on the one hand, he loved fresh meat and appreciated the skill of the hunters; on the other hand, he was somewhat disconcerted by the notion of a “man” who could bring down an elk using only his teeth. He had no doubt he could kill the Five if it came to that, but it would, without question, be one of his more memorable and challenging contests.

  At a certain point in the journey, the group passed out of what might reasonably be deemed the civilized lands and into the wilderness. At this point, the wagon driver bid Vykers and the Five farewell in his typically loquacious style. “So long,” he said and rode away. A normal man might have had a moment’s unease about leaving the only other full human within several days’ travel. Ah, Vykers thought, fuck normal.

  Excuse me?

  Oh, that’s right: he still had Arune. Well, if it ain’t my favorite infection, Vykers thought at her. Whatcha been up to these last few days?

  Studying your friends, here.

  And?

  There’s something…fey…about them, and some sort of taint, as well.

  There’s taint in all of us.

  Arune actually laughed. There certainly is in you, she observed.

  Yeah, well, I earned it. Vykers paused. So, what’s this fey business?

  You can smell them, right?

  ‘Course.

  What you may not smell is magic. They give off a faint whiff of magic not of human ken.

  Why the fuck do you talk like that?

  Because I’ve read a book or two. Why the fuck do you talk like you do?

  ‘Cause I was too busy killing to read much.

  Silence.

  So, some sort of weird magic was used to create our friends. We knew that.

  Ah, but they may also be capable of Shaping.

  This was a surprise. What does “may be” mean, exactly?

  In this instance, it means “definitely.” I just don’t know what it will look like when it happens.

  I need to see what these boys can do. Any way you can scare up some bandits or wolves or some kind of threat for us?

  Pause.

  You want me to scare up an attack?

  Yes. Please, Vykers added, as a special touch.

  You’re crazier than a rabid dog.

  No sense goin’ all sweet on me, Vykers replied.

  Okay, then. This may take a while. I need to send out a signal, for lack of a better term.

  Good. Thank you. Think I’ll start a fire. The old-fashioned way.

  *****

  They were eating wild boar. Vykers preferred his cooked, but his companions did not share his dainty sensibilities. Instead, they tore into bloody slabs of boar as if they hadn’t eaten in days. Then, Vykers heard the barely audible sound of a twig snapping in the forest. Immediately, the Five raised their heads, too, sniffing the breeze, listening, scanning the shadows cast on the surrounding trees by the fire.

  We’ve got company, he told Arune.

  As requested.

  Wanna tell me what you know about them?

  Oursine. Maybe…fourteen?

  Huh. Better’n nothing, I suppose.

  You’re impossible.

  So they say. Vykers turned to the Five. “Well, boys. What can you tell me?”

  “Boys?” Number 17 said.

  “He means us,” Number 3 pointed out. To Vykers he replied, “We seem to be surrounded by several large carnivores.”

  “How many is ‘several?”

  “Fifteen,” Number 17 answered.

  You missed one, Vykers told Arune.

  It happens.

  Vykers took a moment to recall what he knew about oursine. They were big creatures, about the size of a cow, and they looked like a lunatic’s imagining of a cross between a bear and a wolf. Typically, where you found oursine, you found neither bears nor wolves. Unlike either, oursine possessed a primitive grasp of the Queen’s tongue. At least in this part of the world. Vykers assumed they spoke other languages elsewhere. He stood, drew his sword and walked to the edge of the campsite.

  “We know you’re out there, ya big, shaggy bastards! If your race aren’t all cowards, why don’t you come into the light and show us what you’re made of?”

  That was subtle, Arune said.

  A massive black and grey form moved into the firelight. “There just six of you. Small dinner for great Mehrohr.”

  “On the other hand, I wouldn’t bother to eat your mangy flesh. Probably riddled with maggots!” Vykers taunted. He looked over at his companions. Clearly, they thought him more than a little unbalanced. Good.

  Without another word, the oursine burst from the darkness on all sides. The black-and-grey reared up just as the Reaper knew he would and his sword intercepted its right forepaw, just as he knew it would. Out of the corner of his eye, Vykers discovered the oursine had surprised him in one respect: the black-and-grey was not the leader, but the runt of the litter. The other beasts assailing his Five and closing on his back were huge! Enraged, the black-and-grey fought to overwhelm Vykers with its size, weight and momentum. It might as well have charged an avalanche. The warrior danced one way and the other, whipping his sword through the air as if it were a hickory switch and not a three and a half foot length of Imperial steel. The beast died, bleeding profusely, having failed to land a single blow.

  Instead of aiding his companions, now that he was free of his adversary, Vykers simply stepped to one side and threw his sword over his shoulder, in an attitude of complete nonchalance. In reality, he was watching the Five with rapt attention. Five-on-fourteen didn’t seem like favorable odds, but Kendell’s chimera fought with unearthly skill, with steel, fang and claw, and, yes, with magic. All five occasionally blasted their foes with bursts of arcane power between sword swings or bites, but the tall, lidless one, especially, unleashed a spectacular array of magical assaults.

  That’s pretty damned impressive, Vykers told Arune.

  Mmmm, she responded. I’d like to learn some of those attacks.

  So, the beanpole’s better’n you?

  Different, yes. Better? You don’t want to find out.

  For a moment, the skirmish looked like it might go the wrong way, so Vykers stepped in and put a sword through one creature’s ear and drove it all the way out the other. He turned and found another looming over him. He gutted it from groin to mouth, jumping just wide of a cascade of steaming entrails. At some point, the oursine tried to retreat, but the bloodlust was high in the Reaper and his fellows, and they cut down every beast. As Vykers’ head cleared, he noticed one of the Five literally bathing in the blood of the fallen. Another was urinating on some of them. He’d seen worse. He’d worked with men who took souvenirs – teeth, ears, privates. He’d seen men who shit on their kill. These creatures, his companions, actually seemed civilized by comparison.

  Number 3 approached him. “Master, you watched?” he inquired.

  “Yeah,” Vykers said, “I did. Wanted to see what you can do.”

  “Did we meet your approval?” Number 3 asked.

  “You’ll do,” Vykers replied, not willing to give too much away.

  The group had little trouble the rest of the way to Ahklat. Creatures and men who spied them from a distance somehow realized the little band was not to be trifled with. Even the large group of hungry mercenaries who crossed their path deemed an attack unwise and potentially fatal. Mostly, the mercs just stared in unease as they marched past. And it wasn’t Vykers they were staring at. The warrior was big, but not uncommonly so. He had no truly distinctive features that marked him as Tarmun Vykers. If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t know him. He was just a big merc. The Five, however, were another story altogether. They gave off a funny odor, moved in an alien manner and made no effort to hide their decidedly strange faces. Vykers was really enjoying their company.

  *****


  Aoife, the Forest of Nar

  Aoife came to a point in the road from which she could see the horizon for miles in every direction. In front of her, the land was black and smoking as far as she could see. This had been the Forest of Nar. There had been a trading road that skirted its edge, but now, to save time, a person could conceivably walk straight across. Aoife considered that this strategy might literally save her days of travel and decided to risk it. It would not be her first mistake.

  The closer the A’Shea came to the blasted area, the more she noticed signs of a great host: churned up soil, bits of refuse, horse droppings, and more. This forest had been purposefully, willfully burnt down. What kind of person would…? But Aoife knew, of course: her brother, who disdained all life. Now, she felt a responsibility to traverse the blighted region, to understand and perhaps somehow answer for this latest of her brother’s crimes, as if to say, “For this, too, he shall pay.” Aoife looked around herself again, before venturing into the black. On this side, the sky was a light blue, with wisps of clouds, on the other, a smoky and steaming grey. She steeled her nerves and strode resolutely into the damaged zone. The air was noticeably hotter here. Despite its warmth, Aoife felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She felt, too, the grievous wound her brother had inflicted on this place, as if the ghosts of all that had lived here still suffered, still endured their private cataclysm. And yet the A’Shea knew this was a loss for all the world, as well. She felt she should cry for the tragedy of it all, but found she could not, as if other emotions battled with grief for her attention. She quickened her pace, hoping speed and exertion would quell the rising storm within.

  After several miles of this, Aoife was ready to scream herself into unconsciousness. Desperate to escape, she decided to retreat the way she’d come. She looked back and could not even make out the trail of her own footsteps. She spun in circles, but everywhere she looked she saw the same vistas of smoking ash. The hems of her robes and cloak, she saw, were now stained black, and her boots were caked with tar and ash up past her ankles. What had possessed her to act so rashly, so stupidly? Aoife would die here, she felt certain. She began running. Running and running and running. Eventually, she paused to drink from her water skin. She had an ample supply and skills to divine more, if necessary, but what she really wanted was a river, stream or even a pool. She wanted to bathe more than she ever had. She wanted to wash the ashes from her clothing and hair, wash the filth of her brother’s evil from her soul. But she’d felt that way before, and look where it brought her. She resumed running.

  The sun went down before Aoife came anywhere near the former forest’s edge, as she might have guessed it would, had she taken the time to investigate her options properly. The sun went down, but she was not in total darkness, as little pockets of embers continued to glow throughout the blackness. Invisible during the day, they popped up like smoky stars in the blackness all around her. Well, she would not freeze tonight, anyway. She had thought, naively perhaps, that she might find the cooked remains of game, but the conflagration’s intense heat had turned everything to dust. Exhausted, Aoife attempted to clear away enough ash to lie down, but it simply could not be done. Damn it, then. She would walk ‘til she dropped.

  The next thing she knew, Aoife was asleep and dreaming fitfully. She understood she was asleep, but could not force herself to waken. Strange, susurrant voices faded in and out of her dreams, whispering in languages she did not speak, but nevertheless understood, to some degree. Want him to suffer, they said. Want him in agony forever. Find the man, find the man. And then, a surprise: her brother? This one’s brother? Find your brother, girl. Make him suffer! Pain without end to your brother, your brother, your brother! Aoife spasmed awake. She was shivering and sweating profusely simultaneously. She was about to rub her eyes when she noticed her hands were covered in soot, as were all her clothes, her arms and legs and, presumably, her face. Alheria’s mercy upon her! What had possessed her to make such a foolish choice? She stumbled to her feet and staggered into motion.

  Around midday, or what she guessed to be midday, Aoife came upon a stream so choked with ash it looked like nothing so much as a river of black mud. Here and there, she spotted fish floating belly up. There were even a few dead birds that must have succumbed to the smoke and fumes of the fire. The effort involved in retrieving one of them, along with cleaning and preparing it for consumption seemed too great. Aoife had enough provisions in her travel sack to last her another two or three days, and she could stretch that with her art, if needed. Still, the thought of some relatively fresh fish or fowl made her mouth water. Which then made her thirsty. She doubted she could filter the stream’s water enough to make it drinkable. Checking her water skin again, Aoife was comforted by its heft. If she were judicious in her drinking, she might just get through this without too much additional trouble.

  Evening came again, and still the A’Shea trudged through barren fields of ash. Mahnus grant her a brain in her next life! Aoife was fortunate to be able to augment her stamina, her food and her water with the skills she’d learned among the Sisters. Anyone without a gift in magic would surely die attempting such a crossing. Cresting a small rise, Aoife came upon a circle of raised stone about man-height. There was also a slab the size of a farmer’s wagon lying off to one side. At least she’d be able to sleep in a bit less ash this evening, Aoife thought, as she climbed atop it. She was just about to lie down, when she remembered the voices that had intruded upon her sleep the previous night. As a precaution, she enspelled herself for a more-restful, unbroken sleep. It did her little good.

  Again, the voices came, chanting this time, penetrating her defenses without difficulty. But rather than hearing about the voices’ anger, she felt it. Rather than being commanded to seek revenge, her own desires exploded in their potency. In her mind’s eye, she was naked in the center of the circle of stones. Green vapors, saps and pollens invaded her body from every direction, in every direction. It was a dream, had to be. And she had endured worse at Anders’ hands. At the thought of her brother, an ecstasy of fury filled her. There would be no end to her vengeance, or his torment. Gradually, gradually her rage subsided, and she began to see visions of the greenwood before its demise, then farther back, before the Awakening, and farther back still. Great behemoths stalked its verdant alleys, and tiny atomies lived in its blossoms. Creatures unseen and unknown outside its boundaries roamed freely within its borders. But there were also the old races, the Chook-Na-Cha, the Arbint, the Sperleen, and the Drey. One-by-one, they turned to regard her, as if she were in their presence and they in hers. Avenge us! Their looks told her. Avenge this crime! She wept in truth, at last.

  She rose with the sun this time, feeling strangely energized. She was not naked. No fresh footprints gave evidence of her ever having moved from the stone slab. And yet…and yet she was not the same woman who had fallen asleep in this spot the previous night. She did not know, could not say how she had changed, only that she had. As she got to her feet, her path out of the once-forest was as clear to her as if it had been freshly paved. A day, a day at most and she would be back upon the road. And that much closer to finding her brother.

  *****

  Long & Company, In the Army

  “Sergeant?” Major Bailis called, “You awake, yet?”

  Long rolled over and glanced through his tent flap towards the sky. Not dawn yet. “I can be, sir,” he said, working his way to his feet and stumbling outside.

  Bailis was standing beside him, holding a flagon of hot broth in his direction. “Got a little brandy in it,” he said.

  “We marching, sir?” Long asked.

  “We are. We have orders to move north and await our new general’s arrival.”

  “So, it’s true, then?”

  “So it seems. It’ll be a little odd fighting on the same side, though.” Bailis admitted.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “But I imagine it goes to the seriousness of our predicame
nt.”

  “Sir?”

  Bailis exhaled. “What do you know about this End-of-All-Things?”

  “Not even gossip,” Long said.

  The major eyed him, surprised. “Really? Well, there’s plenty to gossip about, that’s for sure. But I don’t want to, er, undermine the troops’ morale. When Vykers gets here, we can fill everyone in fully; his presence ought to counteract the effect that learning of our enemy will have.”