The lower body of a hyb was faster than a horse, with spurs of bone projecting from each foreleg, often used to disembowel the mount of its enemy. Additionally, this hyb was armored; it wore a metal helmet that covered its whole face except for the angry red eyes. Its body, upper and lower, was also protected by the highest-quality ribbed armor.
The helmet, with its elongated jaw, betrayed the true shape of the upper head, which was more horse than Kobalos. Both mouths were open now, snorting clouds of steam into the cold air. Then both throats called out a challenge, a deep guttural roar that echoed across the land from horizon to horizon. Without further ado it charged toward me, through a narrow gap between two jets of steam erupting from the volcanic rock.
I heard whinnies of fear from behind as the two purrai mounts, sensing the strangeness and malevolence of the hyb, scattered, taking their riders with them. But my horse, fortified as it was by the magic of boska, did not move a muscle.
The hyb whirled the club high above its head, but I saw through that subterfuge. It was intended to distract me, and while I looked up, the long thin talons would strike fast and low like vipers’ tongues.
It was as I anticipated, and I was ready. I charged forward to meet the attack, tail extended, and we passed each other with barely a foot between us. As the hyb leaned toward me, the sharp tips of its talons aimed upward, seeking to slip beneath my ribs and into my heart, I focused my mind until a small, bright magical shield materialized in the air and moved with me.
I positioned it so that it deflected the five deadly talons. I did not immediately strike a blow of my own but, guiding my mount with my knees, drew my saber and followed up my advantage, catching the creature before it had fully come about.
I struck it full upon the head with the hilt of my saber so that the metal of the helmet rang. Then, with my dagger, I tried to pierce its neck at the point of relative weakness where the helmet joined the body armor.
I failed, and we broke contact, both galloping some distance apart.
Quickly the hyb turned and charged for the second time. This time, however, despite its agility and speed, I was even better prepared and, while deflecting the talons with my shield for a second time, struck a blow of my own.
I did not have the space to put all my strength into the scything horizontal sweep of my blade, but luck was with me.
The moment I struck, a jet of steam erupted from the ground almost immediately under my enemy. The horse screamed with pain, and the upper part leaned toward me to avoid being scalded. Thus the hyb was distracted, and my saber made contact high on the shoulder; deflected by the ribbed armor there, it found the narrow gap between the helmet and the shoulder piece, biting into the neck so that the hyb rocked sideways as it passed.
As the creature swayed and the mace dropped from its nerveless fingers, I drove my magical shield toward it like a hammer; the blow was terrible, and it fell, its four legs buckling beneath it. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolled over in the snow, and lay still.
I dismounted and approached my enemy with caution. I had expected the hyb assassin to be more difficult to defeat and half expected some trick. I glanced at its lower body and saw the assortment of blades and weapons in sheaths on its flanks.
It was now at my mercy, so I pulled off its helmet and held a blade at its throat.
The hyb was unconscious, its eyes tight shut. I had no time to waste, so I sent a magical barb straight into its brain so that it awoke with a scream. The eyes suddenly opened wide and gleamed a malevolent red. For a moment I felt giddy, and the world seemed to spin; my grip loosened upon my blade. What was wrong with me? I wondered.
Just in time I became aware of the danger from the creature’s eyes. I could barely look away, the compulsion to stare into them was so strong; they had a hypnotic quality, and had the power to suck away the will so that time ceased to matter.
I regained my focus and stared instead at its mouth, which was full of big teeth. I spoke slowly in case the creature was still befuddled from that last terrible blow I had struck. “Listen very carefully to me,” I warned it, pressing the knife into its throat so that I drew forth just a little blood. “I have been wronged, and I go to make my plea before the triumvirate in Valkarky. It is my right.”
“You have no rights, mage!” the hyb roared, spitting the words up into my face, its big horse teeth gnashing together. “You have murdered one of the high mages and are to be killed on sight!”
“He attempted to obstruct me when I was in the lawful process of repossessing my property. It was a criminal act, and he attacked me further. In self-defense I was forced to kill him. But I have no personal quarrel, either with you or with any other high mages. Give me your word that you will not oppose me further, and I will set you free. Then you may bear witness to my plea in Valkarky and oppose it if you wish.”
“You are dead, mage, whether by my hand or another’s. The moment you set me free, I will cut your flesh and drink your blood.”
“Your fighting days are over,” I said, looking down at the creature. “It is I who will wield a blade. It is for me to cut and for you to bleed. Soon I will drink your blood. It is as simple as that. There is only pain left for you now.”
There were screams as I killed it. Not one came from the hyb; the creature died bravely, as I had expected. It could do no less. The screams came from Nessa and her sisters, who had brought their mounts under control and returned when they saw that the danger had passed. It was almost an hour before Bryony stopped sobbing.
After telling the girls to control themselves, I led them on in silence. I thought over my fight with the hyb. What had gone wrong for the creature? Perhaps it had underestimated my capabilities—or maybe luck had played a part?
I realized that was certainly true. The jet of steam had surprised it and given me an advantage. This detracted from the feelings of pride I should have felt with the defeat of such a powerful adversary. I was not safe from skaiium yet. I must strive even harder to avoid its clutches and maintain my strength as a warrior mage.
The three purrai avoided my gaze and wore expressions of revulsion on their faces. Could they not understand that it had been necessary to kill, and that by doing so I had preserved all our lives?
That night I found us a cave to shelter in. There was no wood to use for fuel, so we could only chew on the remaining strips of meat that I had cut from the wolf the day before.
“This is no life at all!” Susan complained. “Oh, I wish Father still lived, and this was just a nightmare, and I could wake up safe and warm in my own bed!”
“We cannot change what’s been done,” Nessa told her. “Try to be brave, Susan. Hopefully, in a few weeks you’ll start a new life. Then all this will seem just like a bad dream.”
Nessa spoke confidently as she put her arm round Susan to comfort her, but I noted the sadness in her own eyes. Her new life would be one of slavery.
After a while, I left the sisters alone to console one another and went to sit in front of the cave, gazing up at the stars. It was a very bright, clear night, and all five thousand of them were visible—among them the red, bloodshot eye of Cougis, the Dog Star, which was always my favorite.
Suddenly there was a streak of light in the northern sky, passing quickly from east to west. I estimated that it was somewhere over Valkarky. There was a superstition that such a falling star presaged a death or overthrow of some mage. Others in a position of danger would have taken that as a portent of their own demise, but I do not subscribe to such foolishness, so I thrust the thought from my mind and began to focus my will.
I was meditating, attempting to strengthen my mind against the possible onset of skaiium, when Nessa emerged from the cave and sat down beside me. She was wrapped in a blanket but was shivering violently.
“You should stay in the cave, little Nessa. It is too cold out here for a poor weak human.”
“It is cold,” she agreed, her voice hardly more than a whisper, “but it’s
not just that making me shiver. How could you? How could you do that in front of me and my sisters?”
“Do what?” I asked. I wondered if I had been chewing the wolf meat too noisily. Maybe I had inadvertently burped or passed wind.
“The way you killed that creature and drank its blood—it was horrible. Even worse than what you did in the tower. And you delighted in it!”
“I must be honest with you, little Nessa, and tell you that, yes, it was most enjoyable to triumph over a deadly hyb warrior. I have killed a high mage, a Shaiksa assassin and a hyb warrior over the past days—few of my people are able to boast of such an achievement!
“I offered him his freedom, but he refused and would have continued his attempt against my life—and then yours and your sisters’. So what was I supposed to do? I must confess that his blood did taste sweet, and I must apologize if I slurped it too greedily. But otherwise I behaved quite properly.”
“Properly!” cried Nessa. “It was monstrous! And now you are taking us to a city populated by many thousands of beings such as yourself!”
“No, you are wrong,” I told her. “I am a haizda mage. There are probably no more than a dozen of us in existence at this time. We are not city people—we live on the extreme fringes of Kobalos territory. We farm humans and see that they are happy and content.”
“Farm! What do you mean, you farm humans?”
“It is nothing to worry about, Nessa. Why do you find it so alarming? You, your father, and your sisters were all part of my farm, which is called a haizda—thus I am termed a haizda mage. We harvest blood to sustain us, along with other materials that may be of use. Your dead father knew the true situation, but he did not wish to upset you. He made a trade with me so that I would keep my distance. You believed I was just a dangerous creature that lived nearby, but in truth I owned you.”
“What?” Nessa raised a hand to her face in shock. “You took the blood of my father and my sisters? My blood too?”
“I did so at first, but later chose not to continue. I respected your father and decided to trade rather than take. He supplied me with red wine and bullock blood, both of which I am quite partial to. We had an agreement that suited us both. But yes, other humans in the haizda give me blood. But most do not know it is happening—I usually take it in the night when they are sleeping.
“I make myself very small and slither into their house through a tiny hole in a roof or wall. Then I blow myself up to a comfortable size and crawl onto their beds. I sit on the human’s chest, lean forward, and make a small puncture in the neck. Then I drain a little blood—never enough to affect their health too adversely. Just as a human farmer concerns himself with the health and welfare of his cattle, so I husband my resources. The worst they ever experience is a little night terror, like a nightmare in which a demon has sat on their chest, making it difficult to breathe. Very rarely they feel slightly dizzy on first rising—mostly the ones who leap out of bed too quickly. The puncture marks on the neck heal very quickly and, by first light, are easily mistaken for insect bites. Most humans on a farm are quite unaware of what is going on.”
Nessa had fallen silent, and when I glanced at her, I saw that she was staring at me, eyes wide. It was a long time before she spoke.
“You said ‘other materials.’ What else do you take?”
“Souls, little Nessa. Sometimes I use the souls of your people.”
She looked back to the cave, presumably to check that her sisters were still sleeping, before she spoke. “How can you use a soul?” she managed eventually. “That sounds horrible!”
“The owners don’t mind because they are always dead before it happens. And dead souls are usually confused for quite a while before they find their way home. I just use up a little of their energy until they manage that. So really, I just borrow them.”
“Their home—where is that?”
“That depends. Some are an up and others are a down. The first spin away into the sky silently; the others plunge into the ground, giving a sort of groan or sometimes a shriek or a howl—I don’t know where their home is, but none of them seem very happy to be going there.”
“Were you present when my father died?”
“Yes, Nessa, I was. He took a long time to die and was in a lot of pain. It wasn’t a pleasant death, and because you were so inconsiderate and ran off, he could have died all alone. But I was patient and stayed with him to the end.”
“Did you borrow his soul?”
“No, I wasn’t given the chance. Some souls aren’t confused at all. They don’t linger but go home straightaway.”
“Which way did my father go?”
“He was an up, little Nessa. So be happy for him. His soul sprang up into the sky without even the slightest of groans.”
“Thank you.” Nessa spoke quietly, and then she got to her feet and went back into the cave without another word.
Of course I’d lied about “borrowing” souls. After you’ve taken their power, there isn’t really much of them left. Once released, they spin slowly for a few moments, then give a little whimper and fade away. So they never get to go home—that’s the end of them. That might not be a bad thing with those who go down, but the others, the ups, might have lost a lot. It was a good thing for Old Rowler that he hadn’t lingered.
CHAPTER XI
HIS BIG STINKY MOUTH
I went back into the cave and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In the dim flicker of the campfire, I made out the forms of my two sisters. I could tell by their breathing that only Bryony was sleeping.
Saying nothing, I lay down, wrapped my blanket tightly about me, and tried my best to sleep. But I was upset, remembering over and over again the way Father had died, unable to get it out of my head. I was so ashamed that I’d run away and left him with just the beast for company.
Then another thought snared me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Slither had said—how he harvested blood and souls. Something slowly came into my mind. I remembered my dream, the recurrent nightmare I’d had as a child—and now, suddenly, it all made horrible sense. Over and over again I’d dreamed of being paralyzed in bed, unable to call for help, while something terrible sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe, and sucked blood from my neck.
As I grew older, the nightmare had become less frequent and had then faded away altogether. I had assumed that my glimpses of the beast through my bedroom curtains when he’d visited the farm had given rise to my nightmare. Now, at last, I knew the truth. It had been real. It could be no coincidence that my nightmares had ended soon after Father had started to trade with Slither. That must have been part of the ongoing deal between the two of them—that Slither would leave us children alone.
Had part of that trade also been Father’s promise that if anything ever happened to him, Slither could have me in exchange for the safety of Susan and Bryony? It was hard to accept the idea that I must sacrifice myself. Had my father truly loved me? I wondered.
I thrust my doubts aside. Of course he had. Hadn’t he written that he would have sacrificed himself for us if necessary? Now I must do what I could to save my sisters.
“Oh, I’m scared, so scared!” Susan called out.
“Shhh!” I said. “Keep your voice down or you’ll wake Bryony.”
“What are we going to do?” Susan asked more quietly. “He’s taking us north to his own people. One is bad enough, but what about when we have to face hundreds or even thousands? They’ll kill us and eat us. Have you seen the way the beast stares at me? He keeps looking at my neck. He can’t wait to sink his teeth into me!”
She was right, but so far Slither had resisted his urges. “He’s savage, that’s true enough,” I told her. “But he is certainly a creature of his word. He promised our father that you and Bryony would be safe, and I have no reason to believe that he will not honor that. Hasn’t he fought his own people to preserve us? We need to stay calm and believe that things will turn out for the best.”
&nbs
p; I kept my own doubts to myself. It had been dangerous enough in the tower. How would we fare in Valkarky, where so many beasts might attack us?
“How can we ever be happy again now that Father is dead and we’ve left our home forever? It’s so cold, and it’s getting worse with every mile we travel north. Will we ever be warm and comfortable?” Susan wailed, her voice rising with every word. “We left our trunks behind in that awful tower and all my best clothes were inside. I’ll never wear nice things again.”
Now she’d woken Bryony, who began to sob quietly. I suddenly felt very angry. Susan had always been selfish—no doubt that had come from being Father’s favorite. I was the eldest, yet Susan had always been bought new clothes while I’d routinely been given her cast-offs—I’d had to take them in so they would fit. Even the dress I was wearing now had once belonged to Susan.
“You always think of yourself and nobody else!” I snapped. “You’ve woken your sister and frightened her. You should be ashamed, Susan!”
Susan began to cry then, and that made Bryony worse.
Immediately I felt sorry for my outburst. We had to stick together while we still could. I knew it was harder, much harder, for Susan to adapt to this new situation. I had helped Father with the farmwork—milking the cows, herding the sheep, and feeding the chickens. I’d even taken his tools and repaired some of the fences. Mine had been mostly an outdoor life, while Susan had made the beds and swept the floors. Of course she’d left the cooking and washing up to me. So she’d had it relatively easy. No wonder she was finding our new life with the beast hard. I had to make allowances.
“Hush! Hush!” I called out more gently now. “Come here, Bryony. Come and sit by me and I’ll tell you a story.”
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 218