by C S Vass
Still, most of the soldiers had retreated back for the moment, likely waiting reinforcements. “It’s open, it’s open!” the Vaentysh Boy yelled. Many of the rebels turned to flee through the caves, which the enemy soldier took as an opportunity to regroup themselves and catch their breath.
“Geruld, get up damn it!” Freckles shouted.
Jet tugged at his ally. “Let’s go. Come on, he’s gone.”
Fiona went to help lift Freckles up and guide him away. She still felt strangely disconnected. Her emotions had been dulled to the point where she was barely registering what was happening, even as tears streamed down Jet’s face and Freckles screamed with rage.
They were the last to exit the armory, leaving Dogface’s broken body to be claimed by the men loyal to Raejo.
* * *
The journey back through the caves was a mad dash. Hungry, tired, and determined, Fiona and the rebels pushed themselves past exhaustion. She hoped that they would be able to avoid another creature like Welda. Fiona didn’t know who among them would have the stamina to engage in such a fight.
No such creature emerged. It wasn’t long before they were on the other side of the cavern in the grove where they had first entered the prison. Despite all odds, Lord Raejo’s captives were free.
It was decided that their best path forward was to separate. A large group of exhausted men would surely draw attention, but individually they could seep back into their villages and hideouts knowing that the vast majority of them would be safe from Raejo’s men.
The Vaentysh Boys, however, were another matter entirely. Ultimately, there was nothing that could be done. There were only a half-dozen of them. They were tired and separated from Rodrick and the rest of their allies with no clear way to get back to Tellos. They told Fiona bluntly that she was welcome to execute them if she wished, but they were not going to be anyone’s prisoner anymore.
It frustrated her greatly, but she saw no alternative. The rebels were uninterested in their fate and wanted only to retreat to safety as quickly as possible. She had to let them go. Once the decision was made, she felt oddly at peace with it.
Jet wanted to stay with Fiona and accompany her back to his house but she insisted against it. She felt it was more important that he go with Freckles, who was distraught over his friend’s death. Jet agreed and was the only one to thank her for aiding in their escape.
She took a moment’s rest by a green, muddy river. Taking her boots off and soaking her feet in the cold water helped her process what had happened. The hot sun illuminated the greenery around her and the air was thick and humid causing her tunic to cling to her body. Deciding she looked stupid anyway with only one sleeve, she cut off the other to be a little more cool and have some semblance of symmetry about her outfit.
Fiona rested as long as she dared to and then continued moving. Raejo’s men had proven themselves cowards, but she knew that before long they would be combing through the swamp in an effort to regain whatever shred of dignity they could after the escape. She would need to be long gone by then.
As she began to gather up here things a voice spoke that chilled her to the bone.
“Why are you still here?”
Naerumi stepped forth from the woods. Her piercing violet eyes and angry demeanor had not changed a bit since they had first met. Fiona did not fail to notice that Rodrick’s dragon-pommel sword was strapped to her back.
“What concern is that of yours?” Fiona asked, equally angry. She had no love for the old psychic and didn’t want to waste time talking to her now.
“You are full of contradictions, Fiona,” Naerumi said. “You surprised me by passing my test and giving me your brother’s sword, but all the same your heart and mind are still in Tellos. You cannot fight two wars at once. You cannot aid the rebels here in Morrordraed until you conquer the turmoil that swirls within your heart.”
Fiona put her eyes down. She didn’t want to deal with this. Sunlight the color of fire drifted through the treetops as afternoon turned into twilight.
“What does any of this matter to you?” Fiona asked. “You essentially robbed me and handed me a death sentence. I won’t be a bother to you soon.”
“So dramatic, child,” Naerumi said. “Keep any slander you’re thinking of concocting that has to do with me out of your mouth. We had an arrangement where you willingly paid the price of admission to speak with me. There were no promises.”
“And if I didn’t pay the price?” Fiona asked. “Would Jet and I have walked off of your property alive?”
Naerumi grinned, a terrible sight. “One cannot be blamed for defending her home from strangers.”
The comment made Fiona angry. “If you care so much about defending your home, then why not defend your province? If you really care about this place, then you could do something about the provincial lord and help the people here!”
Naerumi spit on the ground. “Have you learned nothing from Greythor?”
The question took her off-guard. After a time she said, “Greythor did what he thought was best to protect his people. He sacrificed himself and stayed true to his principles.”
“Don’t talk to me about Greythor’s principles,” Naerumi said. “I was his student until his dying day. There is but one man in the entire province who understands what a sage Greythor was. This land was unworthy of his leadership.”
“Then I suggest that you go back to hiding in isolation,” Fiona said. “You needn’t concern yourself, as you’ve already made so abundantly clear.”
“Arrogance! Haste! What did I expect?”
Naerumi drew the dragon-pommel blade and for a moment Fiona thought the old woman was going to attack her. She thrust the blade into the ground at Fiona’s feet, took the strap off of her back, and tossed it on the ground.
“Take your brother’s blade, girl. I have no use for such a foul artifact sitting about my home, contaminating me with its dark energies. Take it and go back to Tellos. That is, if you’re brave and smart enough to find the way.”
Fiona’s forest green eyes met Naerumi’s violet amethyst. They looked at each other. Fiona felt something unspoken, but couldn’t understand what it was. Before she could say anything, Naerumi turned her back and vanished into the wilderness.
Fiona stared at her brother’s sword. For a few days it had become just another artifact symbolizing a past that she hoped to put behind her forever, but now that Naerumi had given it back… she couldn’t just leave it there. Sighing, she gripped the dragon-pommel blade and sheathed it.
With two swords on her back, Fiona returned to the village.
Chapter Sixteen
After Naerumi left Fiona made her way back towards the village. She was uneasy about how long it had been since she had seen Geoff and wanted to make sure the old knight was okay. She also knew that she would need to speak with Jet about what their next move was going to be.
Up ahead the woods thinned out and the tops of trees yawned open to reveal a star-filled sky. The moon’s horns were up and the night was bright enough that she had no trouble seeing where she was going.
A sudden pain made her stop.
It felt as if something inside her stomach was throbbing. It was the space exactly where the manjeko had been. The pain rose and fell in waves that left her gasping for breath. She stopped for a moment and rested her head against a tree. After a brief respite she decided to keep walking.
No part of her wanted to think about what that pain meant. Fiona had already received her answers. She already knew that there was no turning back from the journey that she was on.
As she walked along the path back to Barrowbog something else gave her pause. She heard horses stamping up the path behind her. Quickly she ducked beneath a hedge just off the path and crouched in the bushes.
Slowly, the noises got closer and Fiona forced herself to get down even farther. She could feel the plethora of insect life pulsing around her as she disturbed the bugs, but paid it no mind. Quick as light
ning, a dozen mounted soldiers in ring mail and lizard-plate tore down the path.
They were heading in the direction of Barrowbog.
Silently cursing, Fiona watched the riders disappear into the darkness. Forcing herself to wait was a challenge, but a few spare moments would make no difference and if she allowed herself to be overtaken again by them, she would do no good to anyone. She knew there was no chance that there would be peaceful talks. Riders fully armed and armored riding by the light of the moon did not enter rebel towns for purposes of diplomacy.
After several minutes she got up and pursued the horses. Raejo, or whoever commanded the men, must have known that the rebels were hungry and exhausted and that they would do well to strike before allowing them proper time to recover.
Fiona wasn’t far from the first cottages of Barrowbog, and when they came into view, all was silent. Then, slowly like horrific candles being lit one by one, the thatched roofs burst into flame. Fiona watched from the top of a slope that swept down towards the homes. She saw riders moving like death angels from house to house leaving behind a path of fire.
Wind from the village carried the scent of smoke, and before long screams from the villagers. Fiona ran forward careful of her surroundings. She would have to make it to Jet and Harken’s house without getting caught. Her body was still sore from the previous battle and her arm burned awfully where Welda had scolded her so she would try to use stealth before resorting to a fight.
Before long more sound echoed throughout the bog. It seemed the rebels were now aware of the raid and had deployed some of their own forces. Fiona couldn’t locate any central location where the battle raged fiercest. The fighting was everywhere, all around. From the doorstep of his burning cottage a lone man with a tear-streaked face held his daughter’s hand and watched their home burn. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, but he made no noise. The little girl didn’t even seem cognizant of what was happening.
Wasting no time, she continued onward towards Geoff. Something hard crashed into her sending her sprawling senselessly to the ground, flailing among an avalanche of noise that filled her ears. Her left shoulder crunched and bruised painfully, but it was several moments before she realized what had happened.
One of Lord Raejo’s men had crashed into her with his horse, and by some miracle she had been twisted up in the creature’s legs without getting her head stomped in. Unsure if her collar bone was broken, Fiona stumbled to her feet as the rider turned around wielding a ball-and-chain flail like a madman. Fiona slid the demon-pommel blade from its sheath and defended herself from the spiked ball that swerved towards her head.
The chain wrapped around her sword several times. Fiona pulled but the momentum of the horse caused the demon-pommel blade to be ripped from her hands just as the rider was felled from his horse. Fiona reached to grab the dragon-pommel blade Naerumi had given her back. Cursing, she looked at it and realized that when the horse trampled her, it must have cracked the sword. She was holding only the hilt and three or four inches of steel. The rest of her brother’s blade was still in its sheath.
The rider got up bruised and angry but upon seeing the broken sword in Fiona’s hands he grinned wickedly and drew a long knife from his belt. Stumbling, Fiona clumsily leapt back, ducked her head, and leapt back again to dodge the hastily made knife-thrusts that came for her.
The rider lunged forward with his blade horizontal to the ground. Fiona used her right hand to knock her attacker’s wrists sideways to her left. The blade sailed past her, missing her body by a hair’s width. She circle-spun around her enemy and seeing his unhelmed head she shoved her thumbs into the pressure points under his ears with all her might.
He spasmed, and the knife fell from his hands. She quickly picked it up and turned it on him. When she did his eyes filled with fear. He tried to run, but stumbled. His ankle was either sprained or broken, but either way his fighting was done for the night.
“Please,” he said. “No more. I yield.”
Fiona spit on the ground. She hovered over him, his own dagger aimed at his heart, and moved downward. She quickly picked up the demon-pommel blade that was on the ground beside him and sheathed it. His eyes were thick with fear and she knew he would do no more harm that night.
Turning, Fiona mounted his horse and rode off towards Harken’s house.
* * *
The ride through Barrowbog was one of the most nerve-wracking that Fiona had ever endeavored upon. The pain was hellish. Her shoulder burned horribly while her stomach throbbed and ached. Through sheer will alone she forced herself to stay mounted as she travelled the winding road past houses that burned like distant stars.
She approached Harken’s house carefully. There was no sign of violence, but she didn’t want to be caught off-guard or have someone mistake her for one of Raejo’s men while mounted on one of their horses in the darkness. She slid off the gelding clumsily and stumbled for a moment, focusing on the burning pain in her shoulder.
The house was eerily quiet. She slipped inside and something in the atmosphere felt… off. It was hot and dark. A feeling of dread coiled inside of her. “Harken?” she called. “Geoff? Jet?”
The sudden illumination of a candle lit up Harken’s face. His face was sweating profusely and his skin had a green tinge.
There was a knife in his belly.
Wordlessly she went to him. He smiled painfully at her. Blood and spittle dripped from his mouth. “Fiona…” Despite his pain Harken somehow managed to look genuinely happy to see her.
“Harken… what can I do? Where can you take me?”
“You… you leave me be, child. There’s no helping me now. I’ll die in my house, if you please.” His words were slow. Talking clearly cost him a great deal of energy.
“Then tell me who to get,” Fiona insisted. “I’ll bring them here.”
“No.” He looked at her with grave seriousness. “No, I’ll not have someone killed trying to help a dead man. It’s alright, Fiona. I am not afraid.”
“Harken, where is… is Geoff?” Fiona felt frozen. She couldn’t bring herself to leave Harken. She also couldn’t handle losing Geoff too.
“His—” Harken coughed, which obviously caused him a great deal of pain. “He is… alive. His condition worsened again. The men who came here either didn’t see him or took him for dead. There is… much more to that man than meets the eye. He is strong.”
Fiona nodded. “You’re strong too. You’re not going to die tonight.”
“I will.” Harken’s voice was soft, but final. “I’m a stubborn man and I’ll die as I please. But before I do… I must—” another fit of coughing interrupted him. Fiona quickly found a cool bowl of water and a spare cloth and patted his head with it.
He looked at her with more kindness than Fiona could remember seeing in someone’s eyes. “I must burden you with a dying man’s thoughts, Fiona.”
He placed his hands in her own. Fiona’s shoulder still throbbed mercilessly, but she paid it no mind. Harken’s voice shrunk to a mere whisper.
“I have no sage advice to pass along to my son. Just confusions and troubles. It is new to me, Fiona. I lived my entire life a strict disciple of Greythor. I believed in his teachings. I have never owned a sword. I didn’t even seek to defend myself from the man who entered my house tonight.
“All the same… now I worry. Perhaps I’ve misunderstood. I still want to believe in what Greythor taught. I want to believe that killing and violence must never be tolerated under any circumstance, no matter how much one believes themselves to be in the right. But I don’t see how that can help Barrowbog now.”
Fiona listened while her heart quietly broke. Despite everything that had happened, everything that she had been through since entering Morrordraed, this was the most painful. To see a man of Harken’s conviction question everything he knew after a life devoted to the teachings of his leader was too much. Tears like watery pearls rolled silently down Fiona’s cheek.
“I h
ave no answers, Fiona,” Harken went on. “Only fears. I fear for the soul of my son. I fear for your soul as well. The things you two have been forced to do. Perhaps it is my generation that should have done more. Perhaps we grew too comfortable in a time when we should have caused trouble.”
“Don’t say that,” Fiona told him. “You’ve done your part Harken. You’ve reminded Jet about the importance of life. Even if he’s not a pacifist, your lessons are with him.”
Harken doubled over with another coughing fit. “Perhaps. Perhaps. In any case, my time is up. I have lived my life as I thought best, and no death-bed philosophy is going to change who I have been or how I will be remembered. All the same… you must pass on a message to my son for me. You must tell Jet…”
“What must I tell him?” Fiona asked. “I’ll do anything you like, Harken.”
“Tell him… tell him the problems of our people cannot be pinned down on one man. Raejo is a demon in man-flesh. I see that now. But he is a symptom, not the disease. That we allow the mining of silver and other precious ores from the earth at such a great magnitude has caused so much harm. It’s corrupted the minds of our leaders, turning them into beats of greed. And it has altered the magic of Morrordraed so that the creatures here grow wild and restless as their habitats are destroyed.
“Fiona… tell Jet… tell him that he has my blessing in his war against Raejo. Tell him I am proud of his bravery, and that I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner. But tell him the real war will begin only once the despot is overthrown. Tell him that the removal of a leader, no matter how wicked or corrupt, is like the removal of silver from the bowels of the earth. Its absence will disrupt the land, cause disturbances felt wide, and cause the living things of our world to become restless and violent.”
Fiona listened, breathlessly. She was silently repeating everything he said to her so that she might mimic it as accurately as possible.