by H. A. Harvey
The spy cried out, pointing wildly over her shoulder at Autumn, and a man on the wall nearby dropped his short bow and drew a blade as he ran down the stair to attack her. Autumn ducked the soldier’s heavy blow and drove her shoulder into the man’s lower back, throwing him from the stair onto his allies below as she pressed on to the top of the wall. Penn vaulted out over the edge of the wall to a nearby rooftop, sliding and skidding along the loose slate shingles but managing to keep from tumbling off the roof entirely. Autumn stopped short and notched an arrow, but as she drew and sighted, a soldier caught her about the ribs with a flying tackle, sending her bow flying to the street below.
Autumn twisted as best she could in the man’s grasp as they fell and drove her elbow back under the man’s chin. She braced her hands together and let her other arm take the shock of their landing, driving her elbow hard into the man’s throat until it gave an audible popping noise and he went limp on top of her. By the time she kicked free of the man’s weight, Penn was already leaping onto her second roof. Autumn scrambled to the parapets and leapt over to land on the peak of her quarry’s first roof, launching into a forward roll as she landed to avoid an arrow fired from the wall.
Then, the chase was on. Autumn darted along the peak of the roof and flipped lightly to the second before the less sure-footed Penn had finished crossing it. Autumn found herself smirking as she sprinted after her prey. She bet the cocky slut was wishing she was a half-breed about now. Penn leapt to the next rooftop and, seeming to realize she had little hope of outrunning Autumn, turned and braced to strike as her pursuer followed across. Autumn expected as much. It’s what she would do in Penn’s place. She scooped up a chunk of shingle that her less-graceful prey had dislodged in passing, and hurled it ahead of her at Penn’s face as she leapt the chasm between them.
Penn ducked the tile and still thrust at her pursuer, but the blow was off-balance and unsteady. Autumn easily batted it aside by twisting in her jump, driving the heels of both feet into Pen’s chest and sending her stumbling backwards, cartwheeling her arms to regain balance. For her part, Autumn’s kick nearly sent her back into the chasm, and her shoulder blades just managed to bite the rim of the roof, allowing her to kip up to her feet. As she righted herself, she saw that Penn had also regained her footing, and somehow managed to hold onto her spear.
Autumn slid her short blade from the small of her back and eyed her target carefully. Penn had the advantage of reach, and flanking on the narrow footing would be difficult for Autumn, impossible for almost anyone else. From her enemy’s stance, she could tell the Fae knew how to use her spear. This part wasn’t going to be easy.
“Well?” Penn taunted, a bit winded from the brief chase combined with the blow to the chest, “You’ve run down your quarry. Any idea what to do next?”
In answer, Autumn darted forward and, ducking Penn’s thrust, darted her blade forward in a sweeping blow at the traitor’s thighs. Penn hopped back, again slipping a little on the slant of the roof, but a wide swipe from her spear on its return kept Autumn from capitalizing on the opening. The spear leapt forward again with a swift bite and Autumn quickly batted it off its mark from her chest, but her lack of sleep and exhaustion slowed the deflection enough that the bladed tip still tore an ugly gash in her shoulder.
“How did you do it?” Autumn asked through clenched teeth, hoping to buy some time for her vision to clear. “The male masque.”
“Tell you what.” Penn grinned, “You’re about the most useful stick-skinner I’ve ever heard of. Come with me and leave these Humans to their fate, and I’ll tell you.”
“Not gonna happen.” Autumn growled and dashed forward. As Penn’s spear leapt to meet her, she leaned to the side and arched her back till her hair brushed the shingles of the roof, coiling under the strike like a spring. Then she brought her legs forward, driving one knee into the shaft of the spear and the other into Penn’s wrist, knocking the weapon out over the dark abyss into the shadowed street below. In the same motion, Autumn spun around as she came back to her feet and sent her blade spinning through the air at her foe’s throat.
Penn may not have had Autumn’s uncanny sense of balance, but she had managed to find decent footing, and was easily her match in raw speed. She ducked low and snatched the blade from the air, bringing her empty hand up in a fierce uppercut to Autumn’s jaw just as she landed. The world exploded in a white flash as Autumn reeled backward. She only just managed to cling desperately to the peak of the roof while her vision still swam and she fought the urge to vomit.
“Thought as much.” Penn gloated as she spun the blade to an underhanded grip. “You log-heads don’t shift loyalties. I honestly hoped you wouldn’t cling to that rule when you seem to break every other one. Ah well, time to say goodbye.”
Autumn shook her head to try and clear her vision as she scrambled to get her feet under her. Penn’s image was little more than a blur along the roof and her words echoed as though coming from far away. Even the roof under her hands and bare feet seemed to rumble slightly. Suddenly, she grinned to herself, and slid her legs flat down either side of the peak, digging her fingers into the seams between shingles.
“Goodbye.” She chuckled.
As Penn raised Autumn’s blade to strike her through the heart, the world suddenly erupted into violent motion. From the street below, a great crack of stone was heard and the building trembled with a shock so intense that the roof’s back buckled and the stone shingles scattered like dry leaves on a sudden wind. Autumn barely held on to the roof, but Penn had no chance, and she tumbled headlong over the edge into the shadows with a screech. Looking down into the alley, Autumn saw Axios stalk from the cratered building corner to where Penn lay dazed with her right arm bent at an unnatural angle. The ogre closed his hand around the Fae’s head and lifted her up to the height of his shoulders as she thrashed wildly and muffled shouts drifted from his fist.
“No!” Autumn shouted, “Malor wants the spy alive!”
Axios paused and looked up at her, his one eye still smoldering with the dim red light of the warbringer. He stood still as stone, holding the thrashing woman without the slightest show of effort, but he didn’t give her the slight shake it would take to break her neck, or flex and crush her skull to pudding. Autumn scooted over the edge of the roof and dropped to a windowsill on the second story, then down to the ground. By the time she made it down, Penn had gone limp in the ogre’s grip and he dropped her in a heap at Autumn’s feet.
“Juzt nappin.” Axios explained with a grunt and a light, for an Ogre, kick to Penn’s legs.
Autumn recovered her blade and held the bright steel beneath Penn’s nose till she saw a slight mist appear. Nodding to herself she looked up at Axios.
“Thanks.” She said a little breathlessly, “I’m not sure I’d have come out on top there.”
Axios nodded and jostled her cheek with a finger, and though it felt almost like a blow, Autumn took it to be a playful gesture. She forced a smile, though all she wanted to do was sink against the half-crumbled wall and join their captive in unconsciousness. Then she heard angry shouts from the street leading back to the keep.
“Are there more?” Autumn asked urgently, “Of the soldiers loyal to her?”
“Yeah,” Axios grunted, “Not much though. Just ‘bout a dozen er soz. Wutever weren’t in mah wayz out th’ gate. Figur’d dey’d stop if she stopped.”
“Only if she stops breathing.” Autumn sighed, “Otherwise, it takes days of separation for the effect to wear off. So we have to kill our prisoner, or kill all of the men.”
Axios leaned down and drove an index finger into Autumn’s chest. “Don’ tell me wut I hafta do. Hold dis.”
With that, the ogre rammed his sword into the alley surface and stalked back up the street cracking his knuckles. Autumn decided to indulge at least part of her urge and leaned back against the wall, wincing as he shoulder remind
ed her of Penn’s spear thrust. Looking down, she saw that blood ran thick down her arm.
Autumn took stock of her surroundings and quietly cursed Penn for relying on her masque for clothing, but found a bit of curtain dangling from one of the half-collapsed windows. She gave the bit of fabric a sharp tug and it came free easy enough from its brass rings. She paused a moment as the open window revealed a middle-aged couple in their night-gowns, a youth of perhaps eight clutched tightly between their waists. Autumn gave the terrified folk her best sympathetic smile as she cut the curtain into strips and used it to tie off her wound and bind the unconscious Penn.
She didn’t feel too badly for the curtain, a large stone house this close to the keep, the couple was likely quite well-off. As she finished lashing Penn’s arms behind her back, Autumn paused and looked at the collapsed corner of the house where Axios had rammed into it. Her eyes drifted along the length of the structure. Most of the mortar had cracked as far as halfway down the length of the wall, and she knew the roof would need serious repair. She loosened the ties on her belt purse, drew out a fistful of silver and set it on the bowed window-sill.
“Ah, thanks for the curtain.” Autumn murmured awkwardly. She then struggled briefly trying to work out some combination of Axios’ blade and Penn that allowed her to drag both. At length, she gave up and sank onto her haunches, leaning her lower back against the still unconscious Penn. Autumn was just beginning to lose the fight against slumber when Axios appeared back at the end of the alley. The surly Ogre was tugging along a hay cart heaped with the limp and broken, but breathing bodies of ten soldiers. Dark tracks of blood ran along his frame from a half-dozen deep cuts and a broken chunk of bronze blade still protruded from his left forearm, looking like he had one of his bone spikes bronzed.
Autumn forced herself to her feet and leaned Axios’ blade against the wall. She shifted Penn to a semi-upright position with some difficulty and ducked her shoulder under the woman’s gut, standing with some difficulty. Axios let out a snorting laugh and scooped up one girl in each hand about the waist, depositing Penn into the back of the cart with the soldiers and Autumn on the driver’s seat. He then gathered up his sword and returned to slowly tug the wagon around to the keep.
“Rest, lil sister.” He rumbled, “Tink Iz kilt two mebbe tree, but da rest iz sleepin’ cozy.”
Autumn was too tired to protest and sagged against the cart’s backrest, dozing as they rumbled along the cobblestone back toward the keep. The cart lurched to a halt as Axios set the tongue down in the courtyard. A small group of mercenaries and soldiers had appeared by now, and hurried to unload and bind the soldiers under the ogre’s direction. Lancer Covin was there as well, and walked with Axios as they took Penn, adding to her bindings with strong rope and a gag. Autumn found herself wincing slightly as she watched the Ogre take the Fae’s bound hands in one of his own and snap his fist closed. A crackling of bone followed that snapped Penn back to wakefulness with a scream piercing the rag in her mouth. Then the trio vanished through the main doors of the keep.
Some time later, Autumn was roused again to half-wakefulness as arms that could only belong to Axios lifted her from the stiff seat of the hay cart. She swayed briefly as the arms bobbed along with her before they came to rest, cradling her against the Ogre’s massive chest. The creature’s chest was easily big enough to serve as a mattress for her, and its dense structure reminded her of smooth stone with a thick leather pad over it. At least it was more comfortable than the cart, and she really didn’t feel like making her way back up to the Longstriders’ room. Surrendering to circumstance, Autumn curled her knees to her chest and drifted into deep sleep.
9
The Mountain Crown
Nian drove his shoulder into the back of his shield, pressing his attacker’s weapon back against his own body. He dug his heels in and shoved with all his might, flinging the man and his spear back and to the ground. He struggled for breath as he pulled back his sword for a follow-up blow. The strike never landed, as the beard of an axe hooked his wrist and yanked it back further. Nian turned to deal with the new attacker just in time to catch a meaty fist to the gut. Xain planted a heel behind Nian’s and hauled the boy over his hip, planting him hard in the dirt. By the time Nian’s vision cleared, the blade of Xain’s axe hovered less than an inch over the bridge of his nose, the blade dividing his vision into two images.
Xain huffed indecipherably and shifted his axe to his free hand before offering Nian a hand up. A yard or so away, Ulif dusted himself off and recovered his spear. The small circle of fighters relaxed and murmured among themselves while Nian bent to rest his palms on his knees and suck air back into his lungs.
“Yer strong, Nian.” Ulif said as he stepped back into the circle. “And you have close to a Dwarf’s muscle endurance, probably from all the climbing you mentioned. But we need to work on your wind and how much strength you waste on one opponent. Battle isn’t like a duel, one brief scuffle and it’s over. You will find that as soon as you can best one foe, another or even two will take his place. Save your strength, wait for the right opportunity, and remember that on the battlefield, there’s no such thing as a dishonorable blow.”
“What, like spitting in his eyes?” Nian asked.
“If one must,” Xain chimed in, “But to waste water on battlefield is also foolish. Never know when you can next stop to drink. Also, most times, mouth is dry. Better to kick sand into face.”
“Right.” Nian stretched his arms and looked out the tree line and across the vast, empty quarry to where the city of Broadstone stood small on the distant, rocky plain. “I don’t get why we’re waiting around here. If we can’t go in to Broadstone, why not just press on after Karen and the others?”
“Because,” Mitchell chimed in, “We have most of the hostages here now, and dragging them deeper into Baeden to chase the last four would be foolish. One, we can only feed so many people for a week at best, even with your Sattal’s bag of dewdrops. Two, last we saw, there was an army with plenty of ranged weapons at the top of Crescent Ledge, so we can’t take them back and certainly can’t risk sending them alone while we go on. And Third, you need some practice, especially if we end up going deeper into enemy lands. You won’t always have a pretty blonde girl to come to your rescue.”
Nian glowered at Mitchell, though the young mercenary hardly seemed to notice as he winked at Riona in the midst of her fencing lesson with Ellia. The girl pulled up short at the attention and smiled back, a decision that cost her a pommel strike to the cheek. The Elf, who was using an oak wand in her off-hand to train Riona and Rowan simultaneously, turned her attention fully on Rowan, cracking his knuckles with her stick before she hooked his heel and followed him to the ground with the tip of her blade at his throat.
“Pretty buys you nothing on the field,” She stated evenly, “and distraction costs your life and those next to you.”
Riona wiped a bit of blood from her lips as she stood. Without speaking, she unclasped her cloak and draped it over her off-hand, staring intently at Ellia. The Elf, for her part, smirked and turned to square off against the girl. Riona darted forward with a decent thrust, but Ellia easily parried it to the side and returned a stroke with her wand. Riona swung her cloaked arm up between them, fouling the arc of the stick as her leg shot up under the trailing fabric, catching Ellia firmly in the gut with a stout kick. The elven woman’s eyes went wide in surprise and she shifted to the attack, sending a barrage of blows alternating between hands with alarmingly rapid succession, driving Riona back. Yet, the girl managed to keep her guard. Several of the camped mercenaries paused to observe as the two golden-haired women fought furiously back and forth. Nian stepped next to Kolel as he watched.
“She’s learning fast.” Nian murmured, a bit in awe.
“Indeed, my friend.” Kolel nodded, his voice filled with admiration, “As are you. It is the boon of Human kind, the gift of the adept. Most
discount it as a lesser gift than those of other mortals; the grace of Elves, Dwarven stamina and tenacity, the warbringer blood of the Orc. But I often wonder, as in my travels across Creation I have seen less than one land in ten that was more populated by any other folk than your kind, if it is not in fact one of the most potent, if also the most subtle, of the mortal gifts.”
“Eh?” Nian responded, thoroughly confused, “What do you mean?”
“No other mortal race learns as fast as you,” Kolel explained, “They do not improvise, adapt to new situations, or apply old knowledge in new ways with nearly the mastery which Humans do. It is a wonder to watch at times.”
As they spoke, Ellia seemed to tire of the bout and leapt to press Riona, who stumbled back under the assault. The girl flung her cloak over Ellia’s blade and tried a diagonal thrust, but the Elf brought her wand down and wide, striking the sword from her hand. At that moment, Riona finally opened her mouth for the first time in the fight and spit a spray of bloody saliva into Ellia’s face. As the Elf stumbled back and sputtered, Riona leapt forward, drawing the dagger at her belt and laying it alongside Ellia’s pale throat.
“I get it.” Riona said through a breathless grin, “Distraction can kill.”
Ellia wiped her eyes clear with the cloak still fouling her blade and glared at Riona. At length, her lips parted in a smile. “You should still learn to hold onto your sword.”