by BJ Hanlon
As he reached the path the Por Fen had taken, he saw guards at the entrance.
Two of them and they looked more alert than their peers at the perimeter. Edin stepped out and he immediately drew their gaze. Instead of walking toward them, he walked right. The command tent was at the center of many other tents with about twenty feet between them.
Edin imagined from the sky it’d all look perfectly uniform. Circle upon circle of tents. Edin slipped between another pair of tents and out of the guard’s sight.
The glint of an object caught his eye. Stuck in a stump was a foot-long hunting knife. It was unadorned in anyway and hopefully it wouldn’t be missed.
Edin snatched it and cut to the left. He came out between another pair and was out of sight of the guards and the front entrance. He circled around the back looking for another entrance. There wasn’t one. But there weren’t any people either.
The command tent was lit from the inside and shadowed people moved in there. Specific shadows were difficult to pick out but people were awake.
Edin tip-toed up to a stack of brown crates with a burnt engraving of grapes on it.
Wine? He wondered as he fiddled with the knife in his hand. It sounded good. “Later.” He whispered. He had to listen to what was going on inside, if anything.
There were voices, muffled ones but he couldn’t make out any words. Edin glanced around.
The coast was still clear. He heard that before but wasn’t sure of the reference, what did that mean? Did it mean there were no other boats around? Or maybe no seashells or rocks?
It didn’t matter.
The terrible plan of cutting a hole in the tent came and went from his mind quickly. He looked at the stakes in the ground. They held the tent’s lining perfectly. They were taut and strong as if it were a permanent structure.
He dropped to his knees and felt the top of the stake. It was pressed into the earth at least a quarter inch and there were hammer marks on it.
Edin felt the hem of the cloth tent and tried to lift it. He could barely get the tips of his fingers between it and the earth.
Did the military have men whose only job was to set up tents for the command? If so, they took their jobs very seriously.
Edin tried digging the knife into the ground near the spike. The ground was cold and hard and for some reason, snow stuck to the tops of the trampled grass in this exact spot.
Edin pressed on the hilt harder and began shimmying it side to side. There was little progress as he worked the knife up, down and all around for minutes. He felt sweat beading beneath the helm as he pushed further.
After the tip was about a quarter inch in and under what he hoped was the lip of the spike, Edin tried to pry it up.
Despite wiggling and dripping sweat he could barely move the thing. Edin sighed and sat back on his heels.
He glanced around. There was still no one around, he waited a few more breaths and began again.
Slowly, he felt the tip of the dagger begin to bend… but the spike lifted. Edin pressed further down, using all of his weight. It finally relented. The lip was above the grass now and the tent loosened. He stuck his face against the earth and tried to hear beyond the tent’s lining.
The words were faint and came from an authoritative voice in midsentence. “We will battle on two fronts… and they will grow bold and want to retake what was once theirs.”
“What can we do?” another voice chimed in. “With the assault failing much of our force has scattered.”
Edin raised an eyebrow. The assault on Delrot, the Isle of Mists.
Was this their remaining force?
“We must protect the pass,” the first man said. Edin recognized it as the Duke of Dunbilston. The man who tried to kill his spirit in the ship. “What of the scouts?”
“Nothing sire. No sign of a dematian army. There’ve been skirmishes but nothing more.”
“So, then what do you make of the assault on Coldwater and the destruction of Glustown?”
“Small scattered numbers of dematians only. Nothing more. I don’t believe what the adept said about a great army and a dematian king. They’re beasts, like the crillio. They’re only packs of wolves with swords and spears. We moved the army here then… and for what reason?”
“Are you questioning me, Oporius? You’re my general and I worry for our people. You said yourself this is the best place to prevent an army penetrating into our lands.”
“I am certain sire… it’s just… shouldn’t we prepare another assault on the isles? A small force could be left here for the dematians.”
“I do not agree with General Oporius,” a different man said. His voice was deeper and familiar. “I believe the adept. They are coming…”
“Inquisitor, your predecessor would’ve agreed with me. The magi must be destroyed,” the general said. “And sire, one of them slaughtered your son. Are you saying you’ll forgive that murderer?”
“Never…” the duke said. “But we have a more pressing matter at hand.”
Suddenly Edin heard something from behind him and before he could turn, his head was ringing in the helm. He fell forward and the stiff tent walls tweaked his neck. A moment later, his hands were wrenched behind his back and a black bag was thrown over his head.
Edin fought, but the grip was too strong. He couldn’t see anything as he was hauled to his feet and thrown to the side.
He was pushed and pulled this way and that. Someone clobbered him in the kidney and Edin nearly fell but then was lifted up. He heard the whipping of cloth like a rug being beaten and then the hard, crunching grass was gone beneath his feet.
“Sire, we found a soldier spying on you.”
“Behead him,” said Duke Ashtol of Dunbilston.
Edin got the impression he didn’t even turn his head to see the intruder.
“He’s one of mine.” The general’s voice. “Take off the hood.”
A moment later, the hood was whipped from his head and he was staring at three men. The Duke of Dunbilston, an older fellow with a trimmed gray beard, and a third in the dark cloak of the Por Fen.
Merik.
A smile crossed the justicar’s face. Then a frown. “Edin de Yaultan, General Oporius was just speaking of you.”
Edin felt the suppression of the talent as the justicar stood. But then Edin noticed the Por Fen badge was white and not gold and remembered the name. ‘Inquisitor’.
The Duke’s eyes widened. “You.” In a quick motion, the Duke pulled a small dagger from his belt and stepped toward Edin.
“Wait,” Merik said. His voice somehow stopped the most powerful man in the land from trying to stick Edin with the knife. “He’s come back to us, let us not rush this my dear duke. Besides, do you not believe more of them are out there?” The justicar… no Inquisitor de Demar, was looking as dark as ever, his beady black eyes flickering in the firelight. But there was something else too. Sorrow and hope…
This last bit gave the duke pause and for a moment, Edin could feel the flames flickering near him. Edin gritted his teeth. This was the man who helped assault his manor, the one who put flame to it.
Merik stood, his thick form blotting out the fire behind him but the light radiated around him like an old painting of the gods. “We are in perilous times… if some people can be believed. In addition to the mass hysteria near the Island of Mists dear Duke, far too many have gone missing. Far too many have reported the demons’ approach.”
“What are we chatting with him about… he murdered my son!”
“He tried killing me!” Edin shouted. “He was a monster.”
“He was a nobleman, a marquees,” the man’s voice cracked from its regality. “It is illegal for a commoner to kill a nobleman even to save his own life.”
“He is no commoner dear duke,” Merik said. “Baron de Yaultan is his given title, though his lands and property have all been seized…” Merik paused, there was a weird look in his face, one of confusion and pain.
Then
Edin heard it. It was far and the sound stung his head and made his knees weak. “A thunderwyrm…” Edin said. “Cover your ears, they’re attacking.”
“Wyrm? They’re myth…” the general said but his voice was quavering.
The commanders looked at him with fear. All but Merik. The leader of the Por Fen stared at Edin a moment longer.
Another cry and it happened again, Edin’s knees buckled and he dropped to the ground. Edin couldn’t brace himself and his face went straight into the rug.
He saw white and felt a sharp stake driving into his skull. Then it stopped for a moment. His talent was suppressed, and it took a lot of energy to fight through the wan stone. He had no choice.
Edin let a few seconds go by to catch his breath, he needed something to slice the bindings. A moment later, someone was tugging at them, he felt a sawing motion and blinked. Then, his arms fell to the ground next to him.
Outside it sounded like chaos. The sounds of battle started, men screamed in fear or in pain. Others, braver men roared for people to form lines. He heard the clash of metal and the chattering, skittering calls of the dematians.
“What are you doing?” Ashtol yelled.
Edin flipped over and saw Merik standing above him a dagger in his hand and cloth stuck in his ears.
“Order the men to plug their ears,” Merik yelled at one of the guards. “Now. Use wax or cloth or whatever they can find.”
Edin sat up, he looked around and saw Merik snuffing a flame.
The Inquisitor wiped his fingers in the wax and pressed them into Edin’s ears like a child giving a wet willy. This was a hot willy and Edin winced at the pain.
“Can we stop them?” The voice was distant.
“I think so…” said Edin. “The dematian king rides the wyrm,” Edin said but the words sounded far away in his head.
Merik offered a hand and reluctantly, Edin took it.
He was hauled to his feet as Merik drew his sword and offered Edin his own scabbard. “Let’s see what you got kid,” he said, or Edin thought he said that, it was hard to tell. It could’ve been ‘Liss pee on that nut lid.’
Edin figured it was the first. He drew his blade and followed Merik from the tent. The last he saw the duke was sitting on a plush velvet bench and shaking.
Outside, he saw fire. A lot of it flashing up into the sky. He saw men running from something to the north. The dematian army, he guessed. But then higher, silhouetted in the moon he saw the flying beast swooping down toward them. Directly toward them.
It grew closer and Edin saw the glowing yellow beam in its mouth.
He grabbed Merik’s cloak and threw him to the side, leaping after him. Where they’d been standing, a searing yellow blast struck the ground and ripped through the earth and then the command tent. It shredded the thing in two. The regal gold and red, so rich in cloth went up in an instant.
Edin was to his feet first and helped Merik stand. At this moment, all his hate for the man had dropped. But he knew it’d come back soon.
Merik stared, mouth agape as the tent burned.
Edin didn’t wait for him, he turned toward the battle and ran. He leapt over crates and anchor ropes. He brushed past retreating soldiers and scattering livestock. He caught glimpse of a group of eight men in black robes rushing toward the battle. Por Fen.
Edin angled their way, hoping Merik was on his tail and would at least for a while, stop him from being stabbed in the back.
As they cut through the second line of tents, he saw the first dematians. The muffled cry of the wyrm came back and those who hadn’t covered their ears, dropped. It was most of the men.
That moment, dematians were getting ready to pounce on a group of prone soldiers. Edin summoned ethereal knives and whipped them out slicing through the beast’s bodies as if they were warm butter.
He ran toward them as another dematian carrying the polearm leapt out from between tents. Mid run, Edin slashed through its neck lopping the head as if it were a cork being popped from a carbonated bottle of wine.
Before it fell, Edin scooped up the polearm. All around, more dematians and men were fighting. These seemed to have taken the ‘plug your ears’ order seriously.
Some of the soldiers were holding their own. Others were falling beneath the claws and weapons of the demons.
In front of him, a group of dematians was advancing on shrinking soldiers. Edin crashed between the soldiers line and slashed at the demons.
Edin leapt in a corkscrew and brought the polearm down. The closest dematian had the blade planted in his skull. Edin let go of it for a moment as he twisted to a dragon stance below another’s swiping claw. Edin sliced his sword up lopping the hand off and then flicked the sword around his head to open the beast’s guts.
Edin stood face-to-face with three others.
The first one jumped at him with wild slashes. He was the easiest.
Edin sidestepped and opened the dematian from hip to shoulder. Then Edin leapt forward and deflected a downward blow from one with a cutlass-like sword.
Edin twisted the blade and cut through its knees before turning and thrusting the sword through the last one’s chest.
Edin saw Merik facing four of them off to his left. Edin was about to help, but the Inquisitor was fast. Terrin fast and the four dropped within moments of each other. They locked eyes and turned back to the fight.
More were coming in, flooding in. Some from the front, others trying to flank. He could be surrounded.
Edin gasped trying to catch his breath. He wrenched the polearm from the dematian head and cracked his neck.
“Ready?” Merik said in a near friendly tone.
Edin nodded. They moved forward together. Edin slashed and stabbed. He spun the polearm in his hand and leapt over a blade aimed at his thighs. Edin slammed the butt of the sword into one’s unprotected skull. It crumpled like a dead bush after a fire had consumed it.
They killed at least twenty before the area around them was clear of living ones. They ran together between tents to the next circular level of tents.
Small groups of men were holding some off to the left and right. Bald heads of Por Fen were advancing to the east.
The sound of thunder came from behind him and Edin looked toward the sky for the wyrm. It wasn’t the wyrm. It was real thunder…
Edin was shoved to the side as knights came pouring out from behind him, running through lines of dematians. Hundreds of knights on horseback, and the soldiers soon began to rally around them. The camp was roused and they were fighting back.
Edin and Merik followed, they ran past the final line of tents as swathes were cut through the attackers by the knights. Some were dismounted and soon their progress stalled. Many began to simply spin on their horses, slashing down at the dematians.
A great brown stallion reared up and threw its rider into the melee. A moment later, dematians pounced.
Merik shouted and caught the attention of the Por Fen. One of them looked over and caught Edin’s eye and smiled. A great broad one came over him. Berka.
They didn’t great each other, they just attacked the demons in front. Edin moved forward taking up the flank as Berka and a few other Por Fen moved forward.
Edin slashed across bare chests and hacked limbs. He dodged, thrusted, and parried. It felt like hours had gone by when Berka disappeared.
Panic ripped through him for a moment, but then Edin saw him falling back, exhaustion on his face and a bit of pain.
Edin, Merik, and two other Por Fen pressed on. They had the endurance of terrins but none were moving at terrin speed.
Soon it was single or double dematians running at their line. Men began to join staying back but still protecting the flanks.
After a few attacks, he spotted the wyrm swooping down toward them. “On me!” he shouted but wasn’t sure if anyone could hear. Berka saw it and looked at Edin. He ran over.
The yellow glow appeared in the wyrm’s mouth.
Edin settled his body
and let the talent flow through him. It was barely a drizzle down a window during a misty rain. There were so many wan stones around him, the suppression was like a fat man sitting on his chest.
Edin closed his eyes and tried to feel for the culrian. It was there… a small tinkle. He coaxed it with his mind and tried to let it flow through him. He received the tug in his stomach, something he rarely felt anymore. A moment later, a great ethereal dome appeared around him. It grew and covered much of the men in their circle.
The yellow beam shot out and Edin braced himself. It struck before the dome and turned the dematians and men in its path to candles. Even beneath the dome, there was much burning and screaming.
The beam hit the ethereal bubble and a pressure began growing as the giant wyrm swooped up and over the dome. The dark shadow like a demon from nightmares.
It felt like that fat man had turned into twenty and he could barely breathe.
Blackness crowded his eyes for a moment and then, it was gone.
Edin released and fell to a knee.
Berka picked him up by the armpit as some Por Fen stared at him. Some looked like they were about to attack the abomination in their midst. In the back or in the front, it didn’t matter. But then Merik was next to him. He took Edin by the other arm and helped steady him.
“Thanks,” he mouthed. “Can you handle that?” He pointed toward the wyrm circling around.
“Get rid of the wan stones,” Edin said.
Merik put his hand to his chest. Dawning came over as he realized Edin shouldn’t have been able to use the talent… or in their lexicon, the curse.
Merik shouted something and ripped the wan stone necklace from his neck. He thrust it into the air as the rest of the Por Fen watched. Suddenly he whipped it into air past the dematian line.
“Now!” Merik shouted, hesitantly, the others followed.
With the wan stones gone, he felt the fire around him. The fire felt warm… part of him.
Then one by one, they began throwing the wan stones away. There was pain on their faces as they did.