by H. A. Harvey
“How did the rest fare?” Nian asked.
“The rest?” Autumn echoed in a puzzled tone.
“Your farm-boy-turned-general here sent Ulif and most of us to turn the prisoners in the quarry into reinforcements.” Amalthea explained. Autumn looked at Nian and he caught a bright glimmer to her eyes. He made a mental note to remember and work out what that one meant later as Thea continued. “They never saw us coming, and before the surprise wore off, you sent the mountain down on their heads.”
“That wasn’t me.” Nian objected. If he’d thought of it, he wouldn’t have had Xain on the slope.
“Well,” Amalthea waved off his disclaimer, “You’re the only person around with divine support. So, whether or not you planned it, everyone’s saying the blow came on your behalf. They’re calling you the Emissary of Hope.”
“The what?” Autumn and Nian sputtered in unison.
“It has a ring to it, don’cha think?” Amalthea chuckled.
“I-I don’t think Kadia ever said anything about being an Emissary.” Nian stammered.
“Wait,” Autumn interrupted, “You mean you actually spoke to one of the Twelve?”
“Uh, not really.” Nian admitted, “I was too close to dead at the time to do any talking. She mostly talked to me.”
“Nian,” Amalthea smirked, “I’m not the most reverent of individuals, but even I have to admit some pretty incredible ripples seem to follow in your footsteps.”
“There weren’t many of you caught in the landslide?” Nian asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from the subject of being some sort of symbol. He didn’t think things would go well if Kadia got the impression he’d started false rumors, and he was even more concerned that they might be true.
“Not one lost to rocks, and less than two score to enemy blades.” Amalthea grinned proudly, “The rockfall cut us off from the main fight, but a few dozen of the Tyrian force made it over to us. The Baedites that were Spireward had already moved into the city, so we headed up that way. They’re giving chase, but we stayed off the roads. The soldiers aren’t good enough horsemen to ride the rough terrain, and their heavy armor makes them slower than us even before the rain turned everything to muck. Ulif had me drop back to check on you since I could creep past the enemy especially with the rain. I figured I had another day at least to catch you. Should have known the Emissary would do something insane like nap with ol’ Stoneface wrapped around him in the middle of the countryside the Baedites are patrolling to look for him.”
“After burying Mitchel, we had little choice but to wait out the rain.” Autumn replied flatly.
“Right,” Thea winked slyly at Nian before continuing. “Well the rain’s gone now, and you two decided to cuddle so close to the road that I could spit and hit the middle.”
“We only had one cloak.” Nian muttered the excuse as he stood and shook out their mutual shelter. He peered around the outcropping of stone and noted that the Goblin was not greatly exaggerating. In the rain and confusion, they must have turned Clockward and nearly walked across the road.
Nian’s eye was drawn to a small pavilion and campfire perhaps a bow shot further down the roadside across the broken, rocky terrain. A shaggy mule stood tethered to a boulder near enough to the fire that it seemed to be enjoying allowing the heat to dry its matted hair a bit. Nian was about to ask if the tent was Thea’s when a figure in gleaming armor of tight-fitted plates riveted over sharp scale stepped from the tent. The keenly polished steel glinted with pinks and golds as it reflected the fading light of dusk. The stranger wore a voluminous cloak of thick, grey-white fur. His left arm bore a shaped steel shield that curved up and back along the wearer’s arm, looking like a lick of flame or some predator’s sharp eye. On his right hip rode a singularly beautiful, if frail looking, axe. The haft and blade were all of steel, while wire-wrapped fur formed the weapon’s handle. The blade of the axe was a skeletal work that had almost no mass to it save for ribs of metal connecting the long, curved edge of the blade to the solid haft.
“Is that one of the Kadis troopers?” Nian whispered back around the rock. He was quickly joined by the Dryad and the Goblin.
“He doesn’t look like the others I saw this morning.” Autumn shook her head, “Probably an officer or more likely a noble.”
“Agreed,” Amalthea nodded, “Noble is my bet. Nobody who expects to have to actually move wears that much armor.”
Nian stared at the strange knight while he rummaged in the mule’s pack. “Capturing one of the Barons behind this counter attack might cripple their forces, yes? Warranted or not, those prisoners believe in me. If it can buy them an edge, I say we grab him.”
“Her.” Autumn nodded toward the camp. The knight had removed the heavy fur cloak and folded it on a low rock. The stranger then removed her helm and set it on a neighboring stone, revealing fair skin and a definitively female countenance framed with fire-red hair pulled back into a tight braid that trailed down her back nearly to the woman’s knees.
“Alright, let’s grab her.” Amalthea nodded and darted in a crouched run behind a line of large stones to a small gully that looked like it lead to within a few paces of the camp. Autumn looked at Nian briefly before following the Goblin, though she and Nian would have to crawl to keep hidden behind the stones.
Night fell softly over the land as they crept along the length of the gully. When they neared the camp, a man’s voice shouted out a hail from the road. The trio rushed the last few yards as quietly as they could manage and peered over the rim of the gully to see a patrol of just over a score of Baedites approaching the firelight. The armored woman stood, scooping her shield up casually in the same motion. She lifted her free hand and returned the hail in a voice carrying an odd accent that reminded Nian of Roderick though it was definitely much thicker.
“What’re you doin’ out here?” Demanded one of the soldiers as he stepped into the firelight opposite the woman.
“I was about to eat some boilt rabbit.” She replied simply, “I would offer ye some, but it’s yust one und ye are more dan twenty. Ye are welcome to shar de fire.”
“Hunting rabbits . . . in plate armor.” The soldier continued while his compatriots started to spread around the ring of the fire. “We’re hunting too. Some enemy troops slipped free from a battle this morning.”
“Und ye belief dat a soldier on de run would camp ten steps from de side of de road?” The woman laughed softly as Nian felt Amalthea’s elbow in his hip. “Does my armur look like I yust left a battle? I’ve fought no battles in dese mountains.”
“Well,” The soldier replied as he lifted a length of rope from his hip. “Lay down tha axe an’ come with us. Once we’re satisfied who you are and where you’re from, you’ll be free to go on your way.”
The woman’s features grew hard as she slid the axe slowly from her belt. “My name es Kaesa Rhynnsdatter of Nilheim, und I am alreddy free. Dat will not change while I draw breath.”
“A Njord?” The soldier laughed, “You’re too short to be a Njord, girl. It was a nice try though. Now drop tha axe before we hafta foul up those nice looks o’ yours. If you hang on to them and tell us where a few o’ your friends might be, maybe you can avoid tha gallows and warm some rich man’s bed.”
“Ye do not know enough about Njords I dink. Most are tall, but I am not.” She leveled her gaze at the man across the fire. “We do not surrender freedom or take et from oders, and it is unwise to call a Njord a liar. Ye are no longer welcome at my fire. Only because I yust finisht oilin’ rain from my armur an’ do not wish to scrub blood as well, ye may go.”
“You’re a bold one.” The soldier lauged, “Do you really think you can take twenty-four men?”
“I bet two dings.” Kaesa smirked without adding a sense of humor to her hard expression, “Dey run before I reach ten, and ye be number one.”
“Take her!” T
he soldier shouted as he drew his blade and the men ringing the fire rushed in on Kaesa. The woman exploded forward, taking a single step before launching herself over the fire to where the patrol’s leader stood at the outer edge of the ring of light. She landed at the man’s feet, her shield almost casually batting aside the man’s blade as her axe descended to cleave the man’s helm and skull in a single stroke.
Next to Nian, Autumn gasped and whispered, “Twelve feet if it’s an inch wearing at least a hundred pounds of steel plate.”
“Is that good?” Nian whispered back.
“From a girl that weighs barely as much as the armor at a dead stop,” Amalthea answered, “It’s impossible.”
Nian looked back at the fire in time to see two more men close on either flank of the Njord. She hooked the sword of the first with the beard of her axe, blocking his blow, and forced the blade back under his chin. The second man landed a solid strike against Kaesa’s back, but the sword glanced harmlessly from her armor. The Njord spun and brought her shield up in a back swing against the man’s head and shoulders. The force of the blow surprised Nian as he heard bone cracking and watched the man, who was easily twice Kaesa’s weight, fly off his feet and out of the fire ring.
“She’s like a teeny ogre in a can!” Amalthea tittered quietly, “I wanna keep her.”
Nian paused and looked at the Goblin, who seemed to have missed the irony of her calling someone teeny, though he heard a muffled laugh from behind him. Meanwhile, the fight at the fire raged on. One of the soldiers wrapped an arm around Kaesa’s neck from behind, only to have her drive her elbow back and sink the pointed blade of the shield several inches into the man’s ribs through his mail coat. As the man went limp, she grasped the back of his collar and whipped him over her shoulder, bowling over two more approaching soldiers.
A fourth man dove in to capitalize on the opening while Kaesa was bent from the throw. He drove his blade down into her back with all his weight driving the tip into the crease of her spine. The armor deflected the blow, but the force of it staggered Kaesa forward to a knee. Kaesa spun around and her axe severed the man’s right thigh and bit halfway into his left. As the man fell screaming, the Njord stood and drove the forward edge of her shield into another oncoming attacker’s chin with an uppercut that sent his head waggling unnaturally as his limp body collapsed against her.
The man’s heavy body didn’t manage to knock Kaesa off-balance, but fouled her weapon arm long enough for two soldiers to grab her by each arm. A moment later, another rushed her from the front to grasp around her waist, only to have a knee of spiked steel driven into his face hard enough to flip the man over on his back to thrash and gurgle with finality. As her foot came down, a fourth soldier wrapped his arms around her knees from behind and the three men were able to bear her to the ground. Nian vaulted out of the trench and sprinted into the circle with his sword held high.
“No wait!” Amalthea called after him, “She’s at seven, I think she can do it.”
Nian ignored the Goblin and rushed on. As another soldier drew up over Kaesa and made ready to drive down with his pommel, the dark edge of the relic blade cut deep into the man’s chest, nearly cleaving him in two. Nian pulled up short in surprise, as the mail coat offered no more resistance that a cotton shirt would have.
Duck!
The command leapt into Nian’s mind as more of an image or memory than a word. Nian bent at the knees and leaned forward just in time for a sword blade to swipe over his back so closely he felt the side of the blade glance off his jerkin.
Elbow!
Nian followed the instruction again and drove his elbow back blindly. He felt it connect with the groin of the man behind him. The rest of the fight became a maddening blur. At times, Nian wasn’t certain what was a flash of instruction and what was actual action. Other moments, the blade seemed to turn of its own accord to parry blows at angles his wrists couldn’t have had the strength to deflect. Before he knew it, the fight was over. Autumn stood a few paces away wielding one of the fallen soldier’s swords and Kaesa was on her feet again eyeing the two of them from a guarded position. Nian stood utterly still for a moment, then dropped the sword like it had burnt him.
“What was that?” He asked no one in particular, staring at the Relic Blade.
“I was about to ask the same thing.” Autumn blinked at him in the firelight, “A week ago I had to show you how to hold a sword. Now you just mowed through eight soldiers like they were straw mannequins.”
Nian replayed the chaos of the last few moments in his mind’s eye. “We can’t stay here, three got away.”
“Who be ye?” Kaesa interrupted suspiciously, the adrenaline from the fight clearly still coursing through her veins.
“Well, those two are escaped soldiers who camp ten steps from the road,” Amalthea replied as she walked into the ring of firelight wiping blood from a dagger in each hand, “And you can call me Thea. Oh, and only one got away. I figured we’d let one go to spread the legend of the Emissary.”
“Emissary?” Kaesa relaxed her stance a bit, “Be ye Nian?”
“Why?” Autumn stepped between them, a note of suspicion in her voice.
“If so,” Kaesa answered, “Ye be who I was sent to find.”
“Sent?” Nian asked, puzzled, “To the middle of nowhere? Who sent you?”
“One of the Twelve.”
“You’ve spoken to Kadia too?”
“No.”
. . .
The wagon arrived in a tiny village just before dusk. Little more than a handful of run-down cottages around an inn alongside the road, the place was about as bleak and depressing as the rest of the countryside. Still, Karen and the rest of the girls saw it in a bit of a light, for the driver had pulled off the road to rest the horses. The wagon had been drawn into the small stable behind the inn, and as the old slaver was giving out direction to the guards before retiring to his room inside, the women put their plan into motion.
Karen lay against the front wall of the wagon wrapped in her cloak. The girls had agreed that the guards would be less on edge if they didn’t know the troublemaker was awake. She lay quivering slightly wrapped in the cloak. The trembling might help sell the scene to her captors, but Karen couldn’t claim credit for any great acting feat. Her last act of defiance had cost those near her dearly, and now the other girls had all entrusted their lives to this plan. Her mind conjured visions of the slaver’s wrath if they failed. She told herself they were just doubts and tried to force the images from her head, but the mind has a funny way of running its own course when there is nothing to do but wait.
“Please, mister.” Kelly begged sorrowfully. They had decided her meek voice and small, mousy frame would evoke some measure of pity from the iciest heart. “We got her to eat, and haven’t been no trouble. It rain’d all day an’ we’re freezin’. Can we have just a couple cloaks, or a blanket?”
“Tha deal was y’all get t’ keep eatin’, so ya will.” The fat, old slaver chuckled, “Tha spring air won’ kill ya, an’ from what I hear, y’all brought this on yerselves.”
Little Kelly sank against the rail of the wagon emitting soft sobs. She was good. Karen almost wanted to sit up and see if she was alright. A sudden thought occurred to Karen. What if she was too good? Winning the old hog over early might get them blankets, but they’d be no closer to escape. Dawn must have had the same thought, and took over Adrienne’s part earlier than planned. Joining Kelly at the rail, she smiled at the old man.
“We could . . . maybe do something else to get some clothes?” Dawn murmured with just a touch of honey in her voice. “We can’t be the only ones cold on this long road.”
Out the rear grate of the wagon, Karen saw a guard eye Dawn hungrily. She worried for a moment that they had overestimated the protection of maidenhood’s value, but the old man responded as they’d expected.
�
��Sorry, little peach blossom.” He chuckled, “You’ve got nothin’ ta trade. Y’all are worth a hundred times as much with yer virtue intact. Fer that, I’ll put up with a lil’ bit o’ cold.”
Dawn hung her head a moment while Karen’s attention was drawn to Adrienne. Her friend seemed a little put out that the barmaid had slipped into her role in the escape. Adrienne cleared her throat.
“What if . . .” She began hesitantly, “What if someone wasn’t very virtuous . . . already?”
“Shut up!” Bridgette hissed.
“I’m cold!” Adrienne snapped back before turning to their captor and nodding in Rita’s direction, “The tramp with muddy hair was a slut back home.”
Karen heard the man pause and turn back to face the wagon. He stood in silence, a trick Karen had learned from Nian and seen used by some of the merchants buying crops at market. “If you wait,” Nian had said once, “People get nervous and give more on a bargain than they should.” Karen didn’t dare whisper, so she silently hoped Addy didn’t fall for it.
“It’s true,” Adrienne pressed, “The minx probably slept with half the town’s men, including my husband. The least she could do is get us some blankets.”
“Husband?” The old toad croaked merrily, “So she’s not the only one of you that’s been open for business before. But you were hoping she’d earn you a blanket on her back eh?”
The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Karen could see from Addy’s pallor that she’d realized her mistake too late. After a moment, she heard the slaver’s waddling footsteps and he appeared at the back of the wagon with another of the guards. He unlocked the cage door and stepped back to hold it open.
“Bring both of ‘em down.” He directed.
The guard who had been at the back the whole time hopped up into the wagon and drug Rita to her feet. He handed her chain down to the second guard and turned back to retrieve Adrienne. He paused as he passed Dawn. He bent to where his head was beside hers and sniffed greedily at her hair, his hand sliding around her hip and down the front of her stomach, invoking Dawn’s hands to involuntarily drop and vainly try to pull the man’s hand away.