Steel, Blood & Fire (Immortal Treachery Book 1)

by Allan Batchelder

  Another blast of pain lanced through his skull. If he’s so fond of headaches, I’ll give him one of his own! Throwing his arms forward and yelling a single command, the Queen’s first trench collapsed even further with a thunderous rumble, ‘til the bodies inside sank out of sight into a newly yawning abyss, whose bottom could not be glimpsed by anyone nearby. The Queen’s men had long since abandoned the trench, but now they scrambled back further, like crabs scuttling away from predators. D’Kem heard a gasp and realized, without turning, it came from one of his fellow Shapers. He had no time for their admiration or awe. He knew he and his foe would not both survive this conflict.

  *****

  There was an earthquake. Or so it seemed to Long. The first trench abruptly caved in, not twenty-five yards from his unit. He watched with grim interest as one of the other generals drove his thralls into the chasm. Stupidity, or intentional suicide? Given the morale of the few conscious and sane members of the End’s horde, it was impossible to tell. Long spurred his horse in circles around his thralls, driving them back from the trench. Why, he had no idea. It was evident most of the other generals were equally stymied. There was no way across such an enormous gap, not at the moment at any rate. The obvious thing to do was enter the woods on either side, hack down some suitable-sized trees and build portable bridges that could be thrown across the trench. Of course, the End was a sorcerer, not a tactician. If he –

  A phantasmal vapor appeared directly in Long’s path. He knew in an instant it was some aspect of his master. “And what do you recommend I do now, little soldier?” the End’s voice inquired.

  “I was just thinking we ought to go into these woods and build something to span this gap.”

  “Mmmm,” the End mused. “There is something about these woods I do not like. However, since I won’t be the one venturing into them, it’s hardly my problem, is it? Gather a few of these generals in front, and I’ll alert those near the back. Build your bridges. And do it quickly.”

  *****

  “I would not go too near the trees, Master,” Number 3 said, upon returning from his mission.

  “The enemy got an ambush in there, does he?”

  “I do not believe so. But something…”

  Arune?

  He’s right, now I think on it. There’s something…poised…in those woods.

  Poised? The fuck’s that mean?

  If I knew more, I would tell you. And save your hostility for the enemy.

  I’m bleedin’ tired o’ saving it. I want to get out there! How much longer?

  Nightfall. Perhaps a bit later.

  “Nightfall?” Vykers said out loud. “I hope the Queen’s forces can hold that long.” He faced Number 3. “So, what do you think’s going on in those woods, then?”

  Number 3 bowed his head, embarrassed or ashamed. “I…do not know. They feel…alive.”

  “Alive? Ha! Which side, left or right?”

  “Both.”

  A third party, then. The question is, is it friend or foe? Arune asked.

  Only one way to find out, Vykers replied and began walking towards the trees on his left.

  Tarmun!

  Don’t call me that!

  What are you doing?

  What else am I ‘sposed to do to kill time ‘til nightfall? “You boys wanna come along?”

  Sheepish looks, all around. “No,” they answered in unison. “Unless you command it,” Number 17 added.

  “Nah. Stay here. Get some rest,” Vykers said insouciantly. “Gonna be a big night!”

  Before he’d even reached the forest, the sword on his hip began to throb – there was no better word for it. Vykers placed a hand atop its pommel, which seemed to placate the weapon somewhat. So: he’d had multiple warnings, from the Three, from Arune and now from his sword. But the Reaper had never been overly fond of others’ advice. A hundred or so paces from the forest’s edge, he felt a prickly sensation all across his skin and his pulse quickened. Still, he kept his sword sheathed and continued his approach. At last, he reached the tree-line. Without hesitation, he plunged into the verdant shadows and took a moment to let his eyes adjust. Before they did so, a voice spoke to him.

  “Your battle is in the meadow at your back, Tarmun Vykers. Not within these woods.”

  At first, Vykers thought he’d been addressed by an old stump. As his eyes finally became comfortable in the wood’s gloomy interior, he recognized it for something else entirely, something he’d heard of but never believed in. Well, it was no stranger than anything else he’d encountered these last few months.

  “You know my name,” he said. “And what is yours?” He thought he heard the creature sigh.

  “Too-Mai-Ten-La.”

  “Well, Too-Mai…”

  “Ten-La.”

  “Yeah. What I wanna know is, are you just planning to watch this fight or are you looking to get involved, and if you’re looking to get involved…”

  “Am I friend or foe?”

  Vykers nodded.

  “Neither,” the creature said. “But at the moment, my people’s dislike of your enemy is greater than our dislike of you.”

  Vykers bristled. “Your dislike of me, is it?”

  “There’s no need for hostilities between us,” another voice said.

  A’Shea! Arune whispered urgently.

  A second figure stepped out of the underbrush and into view, a woman in deep blue robes. Vykers had known countless women, even countless beautiful women of every type imaginable. This one, this A’Shea, was not beautiful in any conventional sense, but she positively radiated…something. Lifeforce, Good…the Reaper had no words for her mysterious, captivating energy. In staring at her, he came near to forgotting about her fey companion.

  “Your friend’s answer’s no answer at all, really,” he observed, pointing his chin at Toomt’-La.

  The two strangers exchanged looks before the woman spoke again, slowly, carefully. “We have come to witness – and perhaps aid in – the fall of the one who calls himself the End-of-All-Things.”

  Vykers was about to reply when she cut him off.

  “But we will not take orders from anyone. If we act, we will act in our own time and fashion.”

  That sounded like something Vykers might’ve said, if a bit less eloquently. “I guess we’re done here, then,” he said and moved to leave.

  “Tarmun Vykers,” the A’Shea called out.

  He looked back, questioningly.

  “Do you truly believe you can destroy the sorcerer?”

  “You just watch,” he answered, and winked at her. He wouldn’t swear to it, but he thought he saw her blush.

  *****

  “That man is arrogant,” Aoife said into the awkward silence that followed his departure.

  “Is there any other kind?” Toomt’-La retorted.

  “I’ve met a few humble ones over the years.”

  “Oh, yes, and I’ve seen cold fire.”

  “Sarcasm is beneath you, my friend, and I ask you to remember that I, too, am human.”

  “Yes, Mother-sister, but still not a man.”

  Aoife faced the satyr. “I loved a man once. Or thought I did.”

  “And, yet, see where you are today.”

  The A’Shea’s eyes blazed in fury at her companion and, without another word, she followed the warrior out of the forest. Toomt’-La appeared in her path and she pushed past him. Again, he appeared; this time, she shoved him away with all her strength. Once she cleared the trees, Toomt’-La heard the unhappy murmurings of his siblings. It was just possible he’d gone too far, said too much. He was not human, after all, and could never fully understand.

  *****

  Vykers, the Battlefield

  She’s following us now, Arune said.

  I know.

  You know, do you? Can you also tell me why?

  I reckon it’s ‘cause she’s a woman.

  Because she’s a woman? You ass! You self-satisfied, over-confident –

>   Not what I meant, Arune. Calm down.

  She brooded a moment. Alright, what did you mean?

  You saw that little goblin thing. She’s been living with the fey folk. Gotta be dying for some human company.

  Oh? And you think you qualify?

  I was good enough for you…

  I was desperate, the Shaper quipped.

  Might be she feels the same.

  Arune thought about it. Might be you’re right.

  Vykers grinned.

  And stop grinning!

  When he was well clear of the woods, Vykers stopped and waited for the A’Shea. No question, she was easy on the eyes. “Thought you were keeping your own counsel,” he said.

  She met his gaze. “I can make better decisions if I know what your plans are.”

  The Reaper laid it out for her. “You know my name; you must know my reputation. I kill people. Large numbers of people. Thousands and more. That’s my plan, here, too.”

  The A’Shea pursed her lips, squinted at him. “Under normal circumstances, I’d have a problem with that…”

  Vykers barked out a laugh. “Oh, but you got flexible beliefs, do ya? This killin’s better than other killin’?”

  Just under her breath, Aoife muttered “Why must everyone be so objectionable today?”

  Although the comment wasn’t meant for him, Vykers answered. “It’s the war. It makes folks…irritable.” He smiled.

  In that instant, Aoife experienced a flutter of panic, as she felt the beginnings of an attraction to this man even as she loathed him. His smiled broadened, as if he could read her mind. “I see nothing amusing in any of this, warrior,” she snapped.

  “Missed it, did you?” Vykers asked breezily. “Here we are, a healer and a killer, having a friendly chat behind the biggest battle in ages. We’ve both got work to do, yet here we stand.”

  Aoife set her jaw. “You’re right about one thing, Tarmun Vykers. I have work to do, most likely repairing the damage you’ll do.”

  “What kind o’ nonsense is that, A’Shea? You can’t undo what I’ll do. And what’s more, you won’t want to.”

  “The world would be better off altogether without your kind.”

  “Ah!” Vykers replied, “But then you’d have nothing to do. The world needs both night and day; the one without the other would be…unending boredom.”

  “I very much doubt that,” Aoife scoffed. “At any rate, I’ve heard enough.” So saying, she gathered her robes and headed back towards the forest.

  Such a way with words, you have, Arune interjected.

  It ain’t my words she’s liking.

  Sweet Alheria, save us all from men!

  *****

  Aoife and Toomt’-La, the Forest

  Toomt’-La held his tongue when Aoife reentered the woods. “That man is an animal,” she said.

  Oh, what he might have said in response. You do animals a disservice, or aren’t they all, or he’s more of a monster, than an animal were some of the things he considered, but kept to himself. The A’Shea was, after all and in truth, the Mother-sister. He could no more afford to lose her than he could lop off his own arms. “What will he do?” he asked meekly, already certain he knew the answer.

  “He will wait until he thinks he has the advantage and then he’ll attack the End-of-All-Things.”

  “Your brother,” the satyr could not resist reminding her.

  “Yes,” she answered distractedly. Abruptly, she changed the subject. “What did you learn of my…of the End-of-All-Things in your last battle?”

  “First, that there is very little of your brother left within that creature. The body that one sees is like…a snail’s shell to the snail. It is his armor, yes, but it is also a disguise. The outer thing has no relation to the inner.”

  “I don’t understand,” Aoife admitted.

  “The thing inside is very, very old and has occupied many bodies over the years. Your brother – Anders, you call him – is but the latest.”

  “Then is my…is Anders dead?”

  Toomt’-La frowned. “Would that I could tell you so. Alas, some fragment of him still endures, along with bits and pieces of every other soul the creature’s taken.”

  Aoife fought back a sob, remembering the night, long ago, when a loathsome being had burst in upon her family and died at Ander’s feet, vomiting its vile essence all over the boy. “Then, the previous body was but a shell as well?”

  “Just so.”

  “But where did this…monstrosity come from in the first place?” Aoife demanded.

  “That is beyond my ken,” the satyr said, gravely. “The world is larger than you dream and more is unknown than is known.”

  Aoife jumped back to Vykers. “What I don’t understand is how he expects to defeat Anders without an army.”

  “Might this be some sort of ploy to lure us into his service?”

  Aoife frowned. “I don’t think he cares about us one way or the other, any more than a cyclone cares for the waves on the sea.”

  In hushed tones, Toomt’-La admitted. “I have never seen the ocean.”

  Aoife regarded him with renewed interest, a mixture of wonder and humor in her eyes. “Indeed? It is…magnificent. If we outlive this day, I shall have to take you.”

  Far away, the sound of her brother’s host assaulting the Queen’s trenches was not completely unlike the roar of waves crashing on a rocky shore. Only, the carrion fowl that haunted this battlefield sounded nothing like seagulls.

  *****

  Janks & Company, In Battle

  “They’re pulling back,” Rem announced to all and sundry.

  “And well they might,” Janks said. “Somebody’s Shapers’ve split that trench right down to the endless hells.”

  “It was D’Kem, I know it!” Spirk chimed in.

  Janks scraped some of the muck off his armor. “Aye,” he allowed. “Might be.” There was more he wanted to say, but what he suspected didn’t seem possible. “Leastways, we can use this little – what’s the word? Reprieve – to get ready for the next wave, whenever it comes.”

  Kittins spoke next. “Any fool can see they’re off to fashion ladders and bridges. Our job is to knock the damn things down when they come.”

  “One o’ my favorite parts of a battle!” Bash said. “You get the timing just right, you can kill ten men with one ladder!”

  Rem looked at his comrade, clearly unable to believe what he was hearing. “You…you find this enjoyable?”

  Bash guffawed. “Damn right, I do! They wanna kill me. Why shouldn’t I enjoy killin’ them first?”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  Bash punched the actor in his left shoulder. “There’s your problem, then. Stop thinking and start doin’!”

  They all fell silent and looked north, across the still-smoking chasm. The enemy’s host seemed to stretch off into infinity.

  *****

  Long, In Battle

  The mercs did not enjoy taking orders from Long Pete, whom they saw as both a Johnny-Come-Lately and an inferior fighter. The resentment fairly radiated off them, a palpable force as powerful as their rank body odors. But they obeyed him and the other generals who ordered them into the woods to fetch timber. Long waited just outside, of necessity. He had to keep an eye on his thralls, as well. Say what you will, it was impressive how well the End managed their moods, considering the distances and number of thralls involved. And at the same time, the sorcerer was waging war with the Queen’s Shapers. It boggled the mind, really. Long reached down and patted his horse’s neck. Poor beast. He wondered how long it would survive.

  Several minutes elapsed and Long became alarmed by what he did not hear: the sound of axes chopping wood. Under his leathers, he felt goose bumps rise on his arms. He spun his horse, in hopes of sighting one of his fellow generals, found one just to the south. Long whistled. The fellow looked up and then pointedly ignored him. Alheria’s tits, was everyone in this host an asshole? Long urged his ho
rse into a canter and quickly reached the man.

  “Seen any of your mercs lately?” he asked.