GIRIK DIDN’T have time to think, so he went with his gut. His gut told him to chase after Tas, no matter how sound the man’s logic might have been. With Bayor at his side, he jogged in Tas’s wake at enough of a distance that he wouldn’t distract him. As exhausted as Tas had seemed only a few minutes before, Girik had no idea where the man was getting the energy to set that kind of pace. Girik could barely keep up.
He did have a moment of regret as he glanced at Bayor running faithfully beside him. With two Spawn awaiting them, chances were, none of them would live to tell the tale, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. Bayor’s blown pupils showed his blood was up, and there was no way he’d stay out of the hunt unless Girik took the time to tie him to a stout tree.
Ahead of him, Tas’s bloodred robes caught the sunlight as he left the cover of the trees and stepped into a clearing. Girik crept as close as he could get without leaving the relative safety of the shadows. After placing a staying hand on Bayor’s neck, he unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. The Spawn let out another ear-splitting shriek that made Girik’s guts quake, but he stood his ground and waited.
When Tas started to move after the fleeing Spawn, Girik lowered his bow and searched his surroundings, looking for the best path to follow without being seen. Then Tas fell to his knees, the Spawn turned and charged, and Girik gave up on stealth and planning altogether. He rushed to put himself between the Spawn and Tas. He caught a brief glimpse of movement behind the Spawn before all he could see was the nightmare of tusks, red eyes, and ruined flesh bearing down on him. His arrow buried itself in the thing’s chest, but the Spawn didn’t even slow down. He nocked another as Bayor raced at the thing’s legs, narrowly missing getting trampled as he tried to harry the beast.
“That’s enough!” a strange voice shouted.
Girik felt the voice pass through him almost as much as he heard it. Before he knew what was happening, the ground beneath the Spawn’s hooves seemed to liquefy and swallowed the thing up to its belly. It thrashed and let out another squeal before a naked woman Girik had never seen before launched herself through the air with a piercing cry and brought her sword down on its neck, slicing its head off in one clean stroke. Gore splattered him as the head bounced away, and all he could do was gape as the woman rolled free of the carcass and rose fluidly to her feet. Girik wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed frozen like that, but Bayor let out a growl, breaking the spell. All the hairs on his hound’s back stood on end as he backed away from the woman, still growling. Girik was about to order him to stand down when he spotted her glowing red eyes.
Stifling a yelp, Girik raised his bow again, only to be distracted as a robed man hurried out from behind the dead Spawn’s carcass, heading for Tas’s prone form. Before Girik could react, the man yanked the necklace from around Tas’s neck.
“Hey!” Girik shouted, swinging his bow toward the second stranger. “Put that down.”
A ball of gray smoke hovered behind the stranger, but Girik couldn’t deal with anything more at the moment.
Wizard! his mind shrieked.
Girik’s arms trembled, but he kept his bow up. The man lifted his hands in a placating gesture. The stone dangled from its chain, catching the light as the wizard said in strangely accented Rassan, “Be at peace, young man. We mean you no harm.”
The ball of gray smoke continued to bob in the air behind the wizard’s left shoulder as he spoke, making Girik’s stomach twist with panic. The woman moved closer, setting Bayor off in another fit of growling.
“Give it back to him,” Girik ordered, nervously swinging his bow between the two strangers, unsure which posed the greatest threat.
The robed man smiled gently at him, set the stone on the ground, and stepped away from it. “I will leave it there for now, but I wouldn’t suggest allowing it to have contact with the brother, not until I’m sure it won’t finish what it started.”
Frowning, Girik moved to stand over Tas’s prone body and eyed the strangers. Despite his growing alarm, now that the chaos of the fight was over, he couldn’t help blushing every time he glanced at the indecently undressed woman—Spawn, or whatever she was. Bayor moved to his side, keeping his big furry body between them and trying his best to look and sound intimidating. Girik appreciated the effort, even though they were both completely outmatched. The woman grinned and winked at them, and Girik blushed even hotter, averting his eyes and staring at the man instead. At least the man, wizard, was properly covered, even if the cloth of his robes was a vulgar mottled patchwork of faded colors.
The man grinned at him from behind his ginger-and-gray-peppered beard, as if he knew what Girik was thinking. The wizard’s blue eyes twinkled at him, and Girik shivered, remembering how the very earth had shifted beneath the Spawn’s cloven hooves.
“You can put the bow down now,” the wizard said. “I promise you we mean you no harm.”
Girik swallowed. “But she’s—”
“My friend,” the wizard cut in.
“And perfectly capable of speaking for herself,” the woman quipped.
Girik gaped and swung around at the sound of her words but instantly regretted it. She was still quite naked and bent over, cleaning her sword on a bit of intact skin on the Spawn’s carcass. Girik coughed and quickly swung his attention and his bow back to the wizard.
“Bryn, will you kindly put something on before you give this poor man a heart attack?” The wizard’s voice held almost as much laughter as it did censure, and Girik blushed even harder as he frowned at the man.
“I saved his life and this is the thanks I get?” the thing, Bryn, huffed.
The wizard’s smile fell away, and he rolled his eyes. Girik risked a glance behind him, but instead of a naked woman, an enormous black horse stood where she had been. While Girik choked and staggered a step, the horse dipped its head and delicately lifted the sword off the ground with its teeth. With a snort, it swung its glossy black rump in their direction, twitched its tail, and trotted off.
“My apologies,” the wizard said behind him, drawing Girik’s attention from the retreating animal. “He tends to be a little touchy, particularly after a battle.”
“He?” Girik asked, utterly confused and completely out of his depth. Bayor whined at his side, voicing Girik’s emotions perfectly.
“He. She. Or neither. Depends on the day and the form. In that one, he’s a stallion and quite proud of it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
Girik threw a sour glare at the man, but the wizard just grinned.
“He okay?”
The new voice made Girik nearly jump out of his skin. A short, slender young man with black hair and striking pale green eyes stepped out from between two boulders and trotted toward them.
“Bryn go by, so no danger,” the young man continued in stilted Rassan as he moved toward them, sheathing a short sword in the scabbard at his belt.
Only when he made to step around Girik, did Girik remember Tas’s crumpled form on the ground. Too much was coming at him at once. He needed time to think.
“I look your friend?” the young man asked with a heavy accent.
The new stranger cast a reproachful look at the wizard, and the wizard’s grin faded to something Girik might have called sheepish if the man didn’t have a magic ball of smoke floating behind him.
“Who are you?” Girik asked as Bayor shifted beside him and gave a hesitant tail wag at the newcomer.
“Lyuc,” the younger of the two said, giving the wizard another reproachful look.
“What?” the wizard defended. “We hadn’t gotten that far yet.”
The wizard proceeded to say a string of syllables in what Girik was pretty sure was Gorazhani. Then the young man gave Girik an apologetic smile. “I study Rassan for short time. I not good yet. Your friend, I can help?”
The young man looked harmless enough, but his traveling companions were anything but, so Girik wasn’t going to stake
Tas’s life on that.
“I’ll do it.”
With Bayor still glued to his side, Girik was pretty sure he’d be warned if the strangers tried anything. But in all honesty, it wasn’t as if he’d be able to do much to protect any of them if this group decided they meant harm. He reluctantly turned his back on the others and knelt at Tas’s side. Tas was still breathing, but he didn’t even twitch when Girik shook him. “Tas? Come on, Tas, open your eyes. Say something.”
“Was injured?” the smaller stranger asked.
“I don’t think so,” Girik replied worriedly.
He brushed Tas’s damp hair from his forehead and stroked his cheek.
“It was the stone,” the wizard said.
Dawning suspicion made Girik narrow his eyes at the man. “Did you do something to him?”
“Of course not. I was here to destroy the Spawn. That’s all.” The surprise in the wizard’s expression did more to ease Girik’s suspicions than his words, and after a moment’s pause, Girik nodded.
“I’ll take your word on that for now.”
“Thank you.”
If the situation weren’t so grave and confusing, Girik might have smiled. The wizard and his woman-horse-Spawn-whatever had more in common than magic, if the slightly peeved tone of his reply was anything to go by.
“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Girik asked.
“Like I said, it was the stone. It was feeding off him, stealing his energy. I’ve never heard of such a thing occurring with Harot’s amulets, and I might not have believed it if I hadn’t been here and sensed it myself.”
Girik shifted into a sitting position. He cradled Tas’s head and proceeded to check his scalp for any signs of injury. “Tas said he could do it. He didn’t have enough magic stored up for the Hunt, so he said he could use his own energy. He said other brothers had sacrificed themselves like that before as a last resort. I told him not to.”
Girik’s voice shook as he continued to stroke Tas’s hair. “I should have stopped him. I should have thought of something else.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m telling you, it was the stone.”
Girik frowned and tore his gaze away from Tas’s face long enough to meet the wizard’s gaze.
“He was fighting it. Perhaps other brothers have done what you said in the past. But this one was fighting with the stone. I could feel the struggle over the flow of energy, even if I don’t quite understand what that means. The stone was acting on its own. This I’ve never heard of, so unless someone somehow enchanted this particular stone, then….”
“Lyuc,” the young man quietly admonished. He said several words in Gorazhani, and the wizard grimaced.
“Right,” the wizard said, clapping his hands together. “We need to get your friend somewhere a little more pleasant to rest and recover. He should be all right with enough rest. We’ll go to our camp. He can have a warm bed to sleep in and we can make ourselves a bit to eat.” Glancing down at Tas, the wizard pursed his lips. “Let me call Bryn back. He can carry the priest, and the rest of us will walk.”
“No. I’ll carry him.”
“Why? Don’t take this the wrong way, young man, but you don’t look to be in much better shape than your friend. Bryn can easily—”
“No,” Girik repeated adamantly. He set Tas’s head gently back on the ground and rose painfully to his feet. “I’ll take him.”
He held the wizard’s gaze until the man rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Fine. Just let me take care of this thing,” he said, moving toward the oozing carcass behind them and pushing up his sleeves, “and we can be on our way.”
The wizard lifted his hands in the air, but Girik shouted, “Wait!”
“What now-wuh?” the wizard asked petulantly.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to destroy this rotting heap before it pollutes this lovely forest.”
“You can’t do that,” Girik cried, waving his hands and rushing toward the man.
“Why not?”
“They, the villagers and the brothers, they need to know it was killed. They need to have proof. They’ll send someone else if they don’t have proof.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I—it’s complicated. Just, please.”
“Lyuc,” the small young man said quietly behind him again.
The wizard glanced over Girik’s shoulder and grimaced. “Fine. Okay. Whatever you want,” he huffed. “Is it okay if I destroy the body and leave the head? Will that meet with everyone’s approval?”
Blowing out a relieved breath, Girik stepped back and nodded. A head should be plenty to convince them. He had no idea how he’d get it back to the village. If he were being truly honest, he had no idea about anything at that particular moment, but keeping the head sounded good enough. Hopefully he didn’t have to make any more important decisions before he’d had a chance to rest and regroup.
Unsure what to expect, Girik moved back to Tas’s side and called to Bayor. The hound had been snuffling around the dark-haired young man, whom he seemed to have taken a shine to.
“I hope you know what you’re doing better than I do,” he murmured to Bayor as he bent and scratched his hound’s head.
Bayor licked his palm in answer, but the smile froze on Girik’s face when the Spawn’s body suddenly burst into flames. He flinched and attempted to shield Tas and Bayor from it, but the wave of heat he expected never came. The fire shot at least twenty feet into the air, but any flickering tendrils leaping from the sides died before they reached him. The wizard stood right next to the inferno, watching its progress, his face completely impassive, almost bored. The small young man stood off to the side, watching his companion in a way that made Girik’s heart ache, as if the wizard was the only other person in the world.
Girik immediately turned his face away and gathered Tas into his arms again. All of this was too much for him to take in at once. It was like one of the legends the traveling storytellers shared come to life.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tas’s necklace flashed dully on the ground not far off, reflecting the quickly dying flames. The wizard needed no sacred relic that Girik could see. The man had no coven of witches, no potions or talismans. He simply lifted his hands and fire erupted. That kind of power and its implications were too much for one hunter/carpenter from a backwater village to understand.
“You’re gonna have to wake up and help me figure all this out, Tas. You can’t leave me on my own like this,” he whispered against Tas’s temple.
When the flames had died completely and only a dark swath of scorched earth littered with a few chunks of bone remained, the wizard came toward him. “That’s done. We’ll leave the head here for now. As corrupted as it is, I doubt anything will disturb it. Our camp is a little way off, I’m afraid. We had to unhitch Bryn and leave the wagon in the interests of speed. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather let Bryn carry him?”
Girik set his jaw and shook his head. He reluctantly got to his feet again, stifling a groan as every part of his body complained. With a grimace of distaste and a healthy serving of fear, he grabbed Tas’s amulet off the ground and shoved it in his bag before bending to lift Tas.
“I help,” the dark-haired man said.
His green eyes were soft with understanding and concern, and Girik found himself smiling in gratitude. At least, of the three strangers, this one seemed the most normal, the most comprehensible. He was actually quite an attractive young man in his own way, his sweet face far less intimidating and more approachable than Tas’s sharp-edged beauty.
With the stranger’s help, Girik hefted Tas over his good shoulder. He wobbled a bit before he got his balance, and the young man gave him a skeptical look.
“Let’s go,” Girik said gruffly before anyone could tempt him to change his mind.
The trek to their camp seemed to take a lifetime. Toward the end of it, Girik could barely lift his legs and stumbled often. Each time, he shook of
f any helping hand and trudged on, determined to not let anyone else touch his precious cargo until Tas was able to choose for himself.
The Spawn, Bryn, was back in her scandalous female form again. The look on her face said she enjoyed his discomfort, but apparently she’d at least started a fire inside a ring of stones next to a large wagon. Somewhere nearby, a creek babbled, but Girik didn’t have the strength to find it despite being desperately thirsty. As soon as he stepped out of the trees, he set Tas down as carefully as he could and collapsed on the ground next to him, panting for breath. Bayor let out one perfunctory growl at the Spawn before flopping on the ground at Girik’s feet.
The wizard threw him an exasperated look before moving to the fire, apparently leaving his dark-haired companion to deal with Girik and his ragged charges.
“Give me time,” the young man said awkwardly. “Clean inside. Then you go.”
Girik could only nod and pant as he watched the young man disappear inside the garishly painted wagon. He’d never seen anything so ostentatious in his life, all patterns of blues, reds, yellows, and greens. Rassans were a plain people, proud of their modesty and pious restraint. That gaudy thing would stand out like a sore thumb wherever it went. What were they thinking, traveling in that?
“Lyuc?” the young man called from the back door to the wagon.
The wizard crossed the small clearing, and the two exchanged a few words in Gorazhani before the wizard approached Tas and Girik.
“I assume you still want to be the one to carry him, so I’ll just say the wagon is yours for the time being. Use the bunk. Get some rest and we’ll talk when you don’t look like you’re going to fall over any second. Come on.”
Girik really didn’t want to move, but Tas would be much better off tucked up in a bed than left on the cold ground. Groaning, he got to his feet one more time and hefted Tas onto his shoulder. He preceded the wizard into the wagon, hunching painfully low to fit both himself and his burden through the door. With a sigh of relief, he set Tas on a small cushioned bench across from a stove and glanced dully around him. The inside was even more garishly decorated than the outside. Velvet cushions in clashing colors, thick carpets, and more painted ornamental woodwork all combined into a dizzying display, but at least it was blessedly warm. Girik tried to hide his grimace, but the wizard laughed.
The Priest Page 15