The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

  “So we meet again,” Kallion sneered, his gleaming armor catching rays of sunlight and distracting them. “You don’t think you’re going to defeat me so easily, do you?”

  “Put an end to this,” Kitalla warned. “That’s the only way for it to end well for you.”

  “Oh, I’ll end it all right,” he growled. “Desha florious kaie!” With a clap of his hands, the gemstones lining his body lit with inner light that beamed outward like a shining beacon. The light made it impossible to see him directly and they had to avert their eyes to avoid being blinded.

  “Now the king himself uses magic?” Gabrion raged.

  “Defensive purposes only, as is my prerogative.”

  “You had soldiers in Kaison using magic to increase their speed and accuracy, too,” Gabrion accused. “If you’re going to use magic, why not drop the farce that you’re against it and let mages live freely?”

  Kallion laughed. “Mages are meant to be kept on a thick leash and used when I deem necessary.”

  “Then you learned nothing from your father’s mistakes,” Kitalla scolded, tuning her ears so she could discern when the king had moved or if others were approaching.

  “Mistakes?” Kallion barked. “His only error was in not anticipating the Colossus, and who could blame him? Nothing like that had ever existed before. This time, however, I’m ready.”

  “What makes you think your sparkly dress can stop such power?” Kitalla asked.

  “It will,” he declared. “Perhaps you recall when the Prisoner’s Tower fell in Pindington? You all were there. Ordren told me of the chamber your Dariak had created that protected him against both the power of the lightning jade and the collapse of the tower. My mages have worked since then to fortify my defenses, and you will see that when your companion rises up against me, I will remain unharmed.”

  “Is that all you care about?” Gabrion shouted. “Your own safety? What of your people? Are they similarly protected?”

  Kallion snarled, revealing his answer. “Enough of this banter, you fools. How do you intend to defeat me when you cannot even see where I am?”

  Kitalla answered by tossing one of her daggers, which clunked against his chest and broke one of the gemstones. “I’ll take my chances,” she taunted.

  With a wrangling cry, the king rushed against Gabrion, swiping his sword and catching the warrior’s arm as he dodged out of the way. The two companions closed their eyes against the glimmering armor and used their other senses to guide them. Kallion cut in low with one hand, bringing a shield around with another, striking Kitalla in the chest. She hadn’t counted on a shield, but now she knew it was there. She called out to notify Gabrion of it as well.

  The warrior explored his enemy blindly by stabbing with the mace and listening for footfalls, which was difficult to do considering all the noise around them. Kallion slipped past Gabrion’s defenses and jabbed him in the thigh. Gabrion struck back with a sharp turn of his mace, which smacked into the king and crushed a few more gemstones.

  Kitalla waited for a chance to strike, taking a quick peek and regretting it; the light was still too intense to look at. She realized her daggers would only be helpful if she could throw them accurately. Melee was not an option while she couldn’t see. She spun around and took stock of the surroundings, noting that no other fighters were in the immediate area. They apparently had moved away from the blinding light, perhaps fearing the magic that was unleashed, or perhaps Kallion had ordered them away under the circumstances.

  A heavy strike clobbered Kitalla from behind as Kallion bashed her with his shield. She had only turned away for a moment but he capitalized on it, crushing her against the ground, leaving her gasping for air. Gabrion heard her fall and retaliated with a massive strike that knocked the king aside. He struggled to remain upright but faltered and collapsed like broken glass.

  As Kallion righted himself, Gabrion reached Kitalla and helped her to her feet. “I’m fine,” she gasped.

  They turned and faced the king, his glowing armor showing no signs of fading at all. The tinkling gemstones told them he was on the move again and they raised their defenses, listening carefully and preparing to hold him off. Kitalla was struck from behind again and she kicked back hard, catching her assailant in the groin as she fell forward.

  “Ack!” the man gasped, and she immediately recognized it as Ordren’s voice. She kicked her feet up, turning away from the lit king and focusing her rage on the newcomer.

  Through squinted eyes, Kitalla was able to see the captain’s sword swinging in for a strike. She deflected it with her daggers and kicked out. Ordren blocked it with some sort of shield in his other hand, but he laughed and she knew it was no shield after all.

  “Careful now,” he mocked. “You might hurt him.”

  The statement caught Gabrion’s attention, panic flooding through him, for in that instant he thought Ordren had somehow managed to have baby Perrios in his hands. It was impossible, but the flash of fear gave Gabrion a blast of extra speed. He abandoned the king momentarily and pursued Ordren, seeing that the captain held a gruesome trophy: the head of King Prethos.

  “Good luck with your peace now,” Ordren mocked, throwing the severed head at the warrior.

  “He’s mine,” Gabrion claimed, and Kitalla nodded, turning back toward the king, his armor shining as brightly as ever.

  “I told you your immature plan would never work,” Ordren taunted, firming his grip on his sword. “There is no way we Kallisorians would welcome Hathrens into our kingdom. They’ve destroyed their land. Let them deal with the consequences of their actions.”

  Gabrion ignored him, wiping his hands on a dry patch of his tunic, then taking up his mace, giving it a few practice swings. “It has been my recent mission to fight without killing. For the death of King Prethos, I lift that restriction now. Prepare to perish.” He growled and rushed in, sweeping the mace around. Ordren took a step back and parried the blow easily, turning and slicing through the air to snap Gabrion’s spine, but the warrior was ready; he had already twisted his torso, bringing the mace back defensively. It cost him his balance, but it saved his life.

  Rising up from the ground, he was now facing the blinding light emanating from the Kallisorian king, and Ordren was a mere silhouette against it. Fitting, Gabrion thought, that the captain showed up as a blight of darkness against a field of sparkling light. Ordren let him lie there for a moment, flexing his fingers in anticipation. He needed only to take small steps to close the distance between them and finish off the prone man. One step at a time, he approached.

  Gabrion tightened his grip on the mace. Its handle was thicker than most maces and only he knew why. At the end of the handle, the top unscrewed under his hand. He tossed the disc aside and stuck two fingers within, prying out a metal pole. With a scraping sheen, Gabrion removed a sword blade from the inner handle of the top-heavy mace. It didn’t have a hilt and the blade was narrower than he was used to, but it didn’t matter. Prethos had given it to him from his personal armory; it was only fitting to employ it against his killer. He held the special sword in his right hand, keeping the hollowed mace in his left.

  Angry with the change of events, Ordren barreled in, wielding his sword with two hands. Gabrion deflected the strike with his sword, then brought the mace in low, catching the captain in the leg. Ordren wasn’t slowed at all by the hit, shifting around and whipping his blade through the air. Gabrion dodged the attack, using the weight of the mace to keep himself from falling and striking back with a cut of his sword.

  Ordren took the hit on his gauntlet, brushing it aside and kicking out with his foot. The steel-tipped boot crushed one of Gabrion’s ribs, but he brought the mace down on Ordren’s knee with a sickening crack. Hollering in pain, Ordren hopped away and refocused himself, keeping his sword ready for Gabrion’s next strike.

  They had spun around again and the light was behind Gabrion now. He rushed Ordren but the captain saw him easily and parried without any diffi
culty. Gabrion decided that the man was wearing some sort of antimagic hood under his helmet that prevented the king’s eerie glow from reaching him. It also meant that he had to keep himself between the king and the captain so that he could see.

  Gabrion cut in quickly with the sword, striking the captain’s back harshly. Ordren spun around and the two of them went into a flurry of high-paced attacks, their swords clanging fervently. They held each other’s gaze, letting their bodies read the movements of their foe and react accordingly. Ordren stepped slightly to the side, turning Gabrion, but the warrior didn’t care. Little by little, Ordren turned them around so that the light beamed out behind him, their swords sparking furiously.

  Gabrion didn’t need to see anymore. His arms responded to the feel of the sword in such a way that it was more of an extension of himself than a weapon. Being so, he was able to keep the blade moving precisely and rapidly, each hit nicking at Ordren’s resolve. The captain maintained his fury, but he saw the unwavering light in Gabrion’s eyes, and the sheer determination in his mission. He doubted himself for just a moment and, with that, his sword missed.

  The narrow blade flew over the top of Ordren’s weapon and sailed unchecked toward the captain’s head. The strike slipped in between the collar of the chestplate and the bottom flange of the helmet. Biting deeply into Ordren’s neck, Gabrion claimed his victory. He staggered to the ground to catch his breath as Ordren’s body enacted its death throes and left him still upon the soil he had tried so hard to defend.

  Chapter 42

  To Tame the King

  As Gabrion turned to battle Ordren, Kitalla faced off against King Kallion. She kept her eyes squinted, listening for the tinkling gemstones on his armor. At first she wondered how his light spell had lasted for so long until she heard him recast it under his breath. It gave her some hope, for if she could silence him somehow, the light would fade and she would take him down.

  Kallion moved swiftly, despite his accoutrements. He wielded his sword and shield deftly, as all kings of Kallisor were powerful fighters. Kitalla entered the battle with a handful of her daggers and she began by launching one toward the blur of light. She heard it crash against him and fall with a thud to the ground, but at least she knew exactly where he was.

  With a dash, Kitalla charged in, her arms moving quickly to deflect his sword. She felt the clash to her right, so she spun left to avoid the shield, bringing her hands around to smack her daggers into his back. A gemstone got in the way and came dislodged from the cape. Kallion turned briskly, snapping the cape in Kitalla’s face as he did so. She took a step back, but pushed in quickly, her eyes closed, swiping her blades up and down and around. She felt a few strikes connect, and delighted in the impromptu grunts of the king, but he responded by blasting her with his shield and knocking her to the ground.

  Kitalla spit blood and rose up again, peering briefly through her eyes to discern where the source of the light was. Then she charged again. This time, as the tinkling sound of the gemstones grew closer, she jumped into the air, bringing her knees in tightly and then kicking out hard. Caught unawares, Kallion took the blow to his shoulder and fell over. Kitalla landed harshly, but she stomped around, trying to smash his shoulder and render his arm useless. The king howled as her feet came down and she felt his blade smack her legs half-heartedly.

  She was apparently crushing his shield arm, for he writhed underneath her but was able to bring his weapon about. He struck again and though she tried to deflect the attack with her foot, it was a difficult task without being able to see, and she slipped. Kallion took advantage of her lost balance and lifted his torso up, spilling her to the ground. Swiftly, he rolled up and brought his sword down upon her. She heard his incoming grunt of exertion and so she rolled aside and avoided the blow.

  Kitalla bounded to her feet and tossed another dagger to judge his distance from her. The knife clattered against his shield, but he groaned in the process. Assuming his arm was in pain, she rushed ahead, this time tucking her daggers away first. Kallion held his shield in front, bracing himself behind it, and Kitalla smacked fully into the iron with a thud. She then wrapped her arms around it and jumped, twisting her body to the side as if entering into a cartwheel. The motion twisted the shield fiercely and Kallion screamed in response, throwing his body to the side to alleviate the strain.

  Disentangling herself and stepping back to catch her breath, Kitalla heard the king moan as he removed the shield and tossed it aside. With a smirk, Kitalla pulled out her daggers and raced in again. Kallion deflected her attack with his sword, but her goal was his wounded arm. She gripped the forearm and pressed her fingers into the grooves where the shield had been strapped. Kallion dropped his sword and pried her away with his hand, throwing her to the dirt and then reclaiming his weapon.

  As he looked at her, he could see that she was starting to tire. Her body was also marred with cuts and scrapes and her graceful steps were becoming more erratic. He grinned to himself, deciding that he was on the verge of victory.

  The king laughed as Kitalla struggled. “You’re done for. I will break your spirit and then I will have my way with you.”

  Kitalla’s face tightened with the declaration, but the vile king wasn’t finished with his threat.

  “You’ll beg for death but I won’t grant it to you. No, I’ll lock you in my dungeon and I’ll take you any time I desire.”

  Kitalla’s face burned red as flashes of the mayor of Wroque flitted into her vision. Her heart pounded and drowned out the other sounds of battle.

  “Oh, you tremble before my prowess, I see,” the king sneered. “Give yourself over now and I won’t cut off your hands first.”

  Her supply of daggers was low, but it didn’t matter. She channeled her rage into her special skill, deciding that the jades were far enough away that they wouldn’t interfere. She slammed one foot into the soil, then the next, letting her anger fuel the images she projected toward the braggart.

  At first the king continued his taunts, preparing himself to defend against her attacks. He wondered why she wasn’t pouncing ahead, thinking maybe the light was working better than he had hoped. Then, as he looked around, he noticed that the sounds of battle were dying out. Little by little, his soldiers were fading away into nameless heaps upon the battlefield. Deep clouds rolled through the sky, filling the air with ominous blasts of lightning. With all the iron armor strewn about the battlefield, the lightning reached forth with fury.

  Kallion saw Kitalla approach him slowly, a raging fire burning in her eyes as she stretched her arms and neck, ready to sink her weapons into him. She came directly for him, unfazed by the lit gemstones, and so he called to the light spell again. “Desha florious kaie!”

  Lightning erupted all around, its brilliance matching his own. One bolt blasted the ground mere yards away and he smelled the odd scent of the seared air, but worse, he covered his eyes from the light.

  Kitalla leaped in then with a yell. Her daggers hacked away at the gemstones covering his armor. The illusion fell away and the king shouted in anger, bringing his sword about, but Kitalla was too close and she slipped under his arm, cutting more and more until his cape fell to the ground.

  “It won’t help!” he shouted, turning and kicking out. With the illusion gone, he could see well now, and though Kitalla was unable to see against the brilliance of his gemstones, she was so close to him that she didn’t need to see.

  Kitalla kept on alert as Kallion rampaged about, trying to free himself. She deflected one blow after another, taking only a few light hits in the process. She pressed her hands against the top of his thigh, pinching fiercely and causing the muscle to spasm. Kallion’s hands came down and she took a shot to the head and pulled away for a moment.

  The tinkling sound was less than before and she knew she was succeeding at her plan. The man grunted, so Kitalla stepped back in and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him painfully. He yelped in agony, then tried to free himself by stomping on her fo
ot. Having recently lost a few toes, the pain was great, but Kitalla tugged harder on his arm, wondering how much more she could pull on it before it cracked.

  The king leaned to the side and Kitalla responded by twisting his arm further. There was little else she could do without releasing him and she wasn’t surprised when he tried snapping his head back to crack her skull. Prepared for it, she used his momentum against him and yanked further on his arm. The king wailed in agony and made a final desperate attempt, flipping his sword overhead and into Kitalla.

  She screamed in pain and released her grip, clutching a deep wound in her shoulder. Her right arm twitched in uncontrollable spasms and she felt blood rushing from the gash. Focusing her thoughts through the pain, Kitalla approached the king and resorted to furious kicks. She bashed him in the gut, then struck him on the side of his head, forcing him to yank off his helmet before another blow would crush his face. He staggered backward as she pursued him, her legs smashing him one blast at a time.

  She could barely see anymore and the wound was leaking blood too fast. She didn’t have any way to staunch the flow and Gabrion was still busy with his match. Her time was coming fast but the king was still moving about. She screamed with all her might as she charged and pounced on him, mashing his face into the dirt and pounding him until he fell unconscious. The light spell faded and he could no longer reinstate it.

  Kitalla tried to examine the wound, but it was too close to her neck to see. She reached with her left hand, shrieking in agony as she touched the gouge. Dizziness swept over her and she felt utterly helpless. The blue sky overhead lost its hue and became the dreary gray she had envisioned for Kallion. The lightning strikes were like the blasts of pain that shot through her body as she slowly sank to the ground. She first fell to her knees, gasping, trying to cling to something of importance that could keep her alert. Then she weakened further and fell to her side. Writhing around, she kept telling herself that she wasn’t done yet. She had to hold on a while longer. They hadn’t won yet.