Lenui had never been happier and yet he had never chafed under his responsibilities more. The call of the road and adventure tugged on him more than ever and it was tearing him apart. Lenui feared that he would one day become like his mother, shirking his responsibilities and running away from everyone he loved. He was certain that Bettie had come to fear it too which was why she had let him come on this journey with Edge.
Now, as much as he was enjoying his time on the road with his friends and being a member of the Big and Little People Tribe instead of the leader of hundreds of dwarves, he felt a deep sense of guilt. He didn’t deserve his people’s trust. He didn’t deserve the loyalty of his wife and children. One day he might let them all down.
Edge pulled himself away from his friend’s memories, feeling his own sense of guilt for letting his thoughts linger while Lenny was so close to death. The blending of memories had taken very little time at all, but every second counted. He left the dwarf’s mind and plunged his thoughts into Lenny’s body.
Immediately, he felt the fuzziness that Fist had talked about. The dwarf’s blood magic resisted his presence, but Edge’s experience navigating the bond was able to overcome this resistance. He brought his mind to the site of the injury. At first it was like peering through muddy water, but through sheer force of will he was able to push that sensation aside and the injury came into view.
He brought his magic to bear on the problem and used air magic to cut through the arrow puncturing Lenny trachea. It was oddly hollow. He cut open a pathway for the pronged arrowhead and guided it around the dwarf’s jugular and out the side of his neck. Once he had removed the arrow pieces out of his friend’s neck, he set to repairing the major blood vessels that had been damaged. Then he closed the wounds and forced the blood out of the dwarf’s lungs.
Next, he sent water magic through Lenny’s veins to help replenish his plasma and got his bones working extra hard to make more blood to replace what was lost. Finally, he backed out through the connection and removed the sword slowly, healing the cut in the dwarf’s flesh as he went.
Edge opened his eyes and felt a wave of weakness. He realized that he had put a lot more energy into the task than he had thought and as he pulled the blade away, he noticed something strange. His connection with Lenny hadn’t closed completely. A thin silvery cord of spirit magic remained linking his body with the dwarf. His bonding magic was more active than ever before. Dozens of tiny tendrils lashed out at the dwarf as if trying to grab on.
“Death-Claw!” shouted Rufus loudly. The rogue horse had both hands held up to his mouth.
Edge realized that Deathclaw was badly wounded and disoriented. The raptoid was in a small craft that was spinning out of control and rushing downstream but not directly towards them. He was careening to the east of the ferry and would be swept past them, possibly colliding with the chains.
“Go get him, Rufus!” Fist said.
The rogue horse surged forward and leapt off of the ferry boat and into the water. He grew as he went, and the force of his departure caused the boat to buck wildly, knocking everyone off of their feet and causing the wood to creak.
Rufus splashed into the water and luckily this section of the river wasn’t too deep. His legs and arms grew until they were ten feet long and he stood solidly on the riverbed, the flowing water lapping against his chest. Very near the limit of his size and power, the rogue horse forced his way through the current and reached out to grasp the spinning leaf-shaped boat.
“Ooh! Got it!” Rufus said with a booming voice and he picked the craft up and carried it slowly back to the ferry.
He placed the boat on the deck and struggled to climb aboard while shrinking back down. Fist rushed to the side and gripped onto Rufus’s mane, holding the gorilla-like rogue horse steady until he was small enough to pull onto the deck. Rufus lay there panting and shivering. “Co-old!”
“Good boy, Rufus,” Fist said fondly and sent warming magic through his body.
Edge went to the side of the small boat where Deathclaw lay next to a dead woman. The raptoid was breathing shallowly and Edge sent his magic through the bond to discover that he was only using one lung. The other one was collapsed. Deathclaw’s magic was working to repair the wounds, but it was slowed by hypothermia.
Hold on, he sent as he first set to warming Deathclaw’s body, then began to work on the wounds. In addition to the major damage to his chest, he still had a wounded hand as well as a stab wound in his shoulder and a cracked skull.
Deathclaw’s regenerative magic would heal most injuries, but it usually wasn’t this heavily taxed. Edge pulled the arrow the rest of the way through the raptoid’s back and healed his lung, then gave his regenerative magic a boost.
That’s enough, Deathclaw warned. You’re using too much your own energy.
When Edge pulled back from the bond, he fell to the seat of his pants and realized that the raptoid was right. His vision swam and he felt exhausted. Once again, he mentally cursed the Prophet for taking Gwyrtha away. This didn’t happen when she was around.
“Let me help,” said Fist, and the ogre fed some energy through to him. He helped Edge to his feet. “Even Rufus’ reserves are low. I think we’re all going to need to rest soon.”
Thank you, Edge said through the bond and returned his attention to Deathclaw. “What did you find out about the archer.”
“Too little,” the raptoid said irritably and sent Edge his memories of what had happened.
The raptoid reached into the boat and dragged the archer’s body out and onto the deck of the ferry. As he did so, he grunted in pain. His knife Speedy was now sticking out of the flesh of his previously undamaged shoulder.
“I was just about to return it!” he snarled and pulled it out of his shoulder to put it away.
“You really do need to do have a conversation with that bandoleer,” Edge said and crouched to examine the body.
There was something familiar about the woman, though Edge was having a hard time trying to place what it was. Then he noticed a scar on her chin and he remembered who she was. “This is Lana Sure Strike! She went into the Academy a few years before I started Training School.” He stroked his chin. “She went missing while out on her first assignment. Everyone assumed she was dead.”
“Now we know what happened to her,” said Deathclaw. He had removed the fingerless gloves she was wearing and on the back of her left hand was a charred rune. “She joined the other side.”
When someone was named by the Dark Bowl, it left a black rune on their hand that could only be seen by spirit sight. But when they died, the Dark Bowl took back the memories and skills it had given them and took a piece of their soul along with it. The rune that had been invisible in life became seared into their flesh as it exacted its price.
“Edge,” said a gruff voice behind him. Lenny was standing there, a confused look on his face. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly. “I would’a survived. Firegobblers are tough.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” said Fist. “You were very near death before he intervened.”
“I would’a survived, dag-blast it,” Lenny repeated, but there was no anger in his voice. “But, thanks fer what you did. And thank you too, Fist, fer tryin’.”
“Of course,” Edge said.
“And, uh, I don’t know what you saw while you was rummaging ’round in my noggin, but . . . keep it to yerself, huh?” he said.
Edge gave him an embarrassed smile. “I-I will. I’m sorry about that. It just happened. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I know that,” Lenny said, patting him on the chest. “I know what kind a man you are, Edge. In fact, it’s kinda stuck in my brain like a part of you’s still in there somehow.”
Edge switched to spirit sight and was surprised to find that the faint cord of spirit magic was still connected to the dwarf’s arm where the sword had pierced him. His bonding magic was just as active as ever. It was like it was trying to make a more solid connect
ion but failing to find purchase. “Uh, Lenny?”
“Hey,” said the dwarf, gesturing to Deathclaw. “What you got there?”
The raptoid had pulled the archer’s bow out of the boat. It was made of steel and covered in a red lacquer. Runes ran up the length of it. He handed it over to the dwarf.
Lenny hefted the weapon. “I’ll be dag-gummed if this ain’t familiar.”
You should look at this, Squirrel said through the bond. He was standing on the deck holding the back half of the arrow that had been in Lenny’s neck. As Edge had thought, it was hollow. Squirrel had pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper.
Edge took it from him and asked the ferrymen to light the lamps again. Once he had enough light, he read it with confusion. The piece of paper said “Firegobbler” in thick red letters and there was a line drawn diagonally through the name.
The dwarf dropped the bow to the ground and read the note and his features rippled with rage. Some of his old energy returned to him as he crumpled the piece of paper in his fist. “Vern!”
Chapter Sixteen
Sir Edge – Nemesis
“You think the archer’s name is Vern?” said Fist with a frown. “Are you certain? Edge thinks her name was Lana.”
“Not the gall-durn archer,” said Lenny. His teeth were bared and his eyes were narrowed with loathing. “Vern is the yellow-bellied cheek-sneaker who hired her. Dag-blasted idjit’s been out to get me fer years.”
This pricked Edge’s mind and he recalled catching glimpses of this rivalry in the dwarf’s memories. “Vern . . . Earthpeeler? The Earthpeelers are from an old mining town, right?”
Lenny gave him a curious look. “That’s right. Them dag-blamed dirt-diggers were some of the best miners in the region. Us Firegobblers respected ’em fer it. Only then they got uppity and thought they’d become smithies too. To make things worse, they thought they could just snatch contracts out from under us!” He cocked his head. “How’d you know that?”
“It was still left over in my head after I healed you,” said Edge, unsure how the dwarf would react.
Lenny blinked at him, then looked away. “Yeah, well, Vern’s the worst of his family. He’s done gone off on his own. That crabsnatcher will make a weapon fer anybody, good or bad. He’s also a purty good fighter and he’s got an adventurin’ streak in him. Folks say he hires himself out.”
“A dwarf mercenary?” Deathclaw asked.
“When he feels like it,” Lenny said with disdain. “Other times he’s just cheatin’ folks by chargin’ way too much fer half-arsed smithin’!”
“This weapon was pretty effective,” Deathclaw observed, gesturing at the dead archer’s bow.
“I ain’t sayin’ he ain’t good,” the dwarf replied. “He just overcharges.”
“He’s like an evil version of Lenny,” said Fist and a smile began to spread on his face.
Lenny scowled at that remark. “Don’t you say nothin’ like that. I ain’t nothin’ like Vern and he ain’t nothin’ like me!” He cocked his head at the ogre. “What’re you smiling at? Ain’t nothin’ funny here.”
Fist’s shoulders had relaxed. “Because if this attack was just an assassin sent after you by an old enemy, it was personal. That means it doesn’t have anything to do with our mission.”
“And why is that better?” Lenny barked.
“Because that means it’s over with. At least for now,” Fist explained. He yawned and sat cross-legged on the deck. “My worry was that this was set up by the Dark Prophet or one of his servants to keep us from catching up to Jhonate. I wasn’t looking forward to being harried all the way to the border of the Known Lands.”
Lenny walked up to Fist and with the ogre sitting down they were looking nose-to-nose. The dwarf poked a thick finger at Fist’s shoulder. “Lemme tell you somethin’, dag-gum it! Just ’cause he’s made it personal don’t mean it’s unrelated. I ain’t seen nor dealt with that corn-jigger in 20 years! And in all our run-ins this is the first time he ever tried to kill me. Why would he start now unless it’s somethin’ to do with Jhonate?”
“That’s a good point,” Edge agreed. It was far too big a coincidence that Lenny should be attacked by a Dark Bowl-named assassin while they were tracking one of the Dark Prophet’s thieves. “Our thief likes sending messages. Maybe the arrow that hit Lenny wasn’t the only one with a note inside.”
He bent and picked up the arrow that he had snatched out of the air earlier. It was well-crafted and perfectly balanced. The shaft wasn’t thick enough for it to be carrying a message. “Were any of those other arrows hollow, Deathclaw?”
Deathclaw picked up the broken arrow that had pierced his hand and the arrow that Edge had pulled from his chest. He looked them over briefly, then cast them into the water. “No messages.”
Edge frowned, and he approached the body of the slain archer. “Let’s see what else we can discover about her.”
They searched the assassin’s belongings. She had an empty quiver clipped to her belt. Perhaps she had lost her other arrows to the water during Deathclaw’s pursuit of her. Other than that, she had some pouches on her belt. There were a few vials of clear liquid in one pouch, a handful of coin in another.
“She doesn’t have much of worth on her,” said Deathclaw, though he did take the two vials from Edge and was eying them curiously.
“And other than the black rune, nothing to identify herself,” Edge observed. This was a pattern he had noticed before. In the many times he had been attacked by the Dark Prophet’s assassins over the years it was always this way. Nameless foes holding nothing to track them back to their origin. “It’s only because I remembered her from her Academy days that we know anything about her.”
“Is there anything about this boat that can tell us more?” Deathclaw asked grasping the edge of the leaf-shaped vessel and lifting the edge of it. “What about these runes?”
Edge joined him and crouched down to peer at the boat’s underside. “These are binding runes.” He reached out to touch them. They were half filled with a red sort of paste. It looked as if the water had been washing it away. “I see. There was a soul bound to this boat and it was tied to the archer. Whatever her deal with it was, it was a temporary one, broken upon her death. The soul is now free.”
“So we still know nothin’ ’bout her. ’Cept she used to be good, but then she went to the Dark Bowl, so . . .” Lenny scowled. “So basically, we still got nothin’. Hold on.”
The dwarf stepped carefully over Rufus’ arm. The rogue horse had fallen asleep on the deck, his wide mouth was hanging open. Once past that obstacle, Lenny stomped over to talk to the ferrymen. The ferry was drawing near enough to the western docks that Edge could see a light blinking at them furiously from the guard tower. The ferrymen were using a shade on the side of their lantern to respond.
“There been any other attacks on the river lately?” Lenny asked.
The ferryman who was communicating with the lights at the shore simply shook his head. The man who had been the most helpful to them so far stepped away from the lantern and addressed Lenny.
“Sorry, master dwarf, sir,” he said with an embarrassed grimace. “There’s been the occasional fight between passengers, but nothing serious. Before tonight, we hadn’t seen an actual attack on one of our ferries in years.”
The group continued to puzzle over what had happened as the ferry arrived at the dock in West Filgren. The Wide River was the dividing line between Dremaldria and Razbeck and the Razbeck side of the city looked similar to the Dremaldrian side, but the Roma family had little sway here. House Torbald was the family in charge of Western Filgren. They were the Razbeckian nobles closest to their king.
The moment that Edge and his friends debarked from the ferry, a small force of guards boarded and took possession of the archer’s body and her leaf-shaped boat. A short balding man with an aristocratic air stepped forward to meet them. He wore finery in the Razbeckian style with lace bulging from around his collar and han
ging from the cuffs of his jacket. The silver insignia of House Torbald was pinned on his breast.
“Sirs,” he said, then hesitated and bowed deeply, forcing a grin. “I mean, of course, Sir Edge and Master Fist and . . . other honored friends. I am Gerval, managing head of the central branch of the Torbald Ferry Company. Uh, we of West Filgren feel terrible about the ordeal you went through while using our ferry system this evening. House Torbald would like to make amends if we can. Perhaps you will stay awhile and partake of our hospitality?”
“How do you already know so much about what happened?” Edge wondered. “We only just arrived.”
“Oh! Your guides signaled us with their lanterns when they were close enough. I’ll admit I’m not sure of all the details yet, but we’ll work it out,” he declared. “I’m quite certain that we’ll find the people behind this attack.”
“Right,” said Edge with a sigh. “Well, thank you for your offer, but we must be moving o-.”
“That sounds wonderful!” said Fist loudly, stepping forward to engulf the representative hand in his. We need the rest Edge. “But we are short for time. We can only stay the night. Do you have beds for us to sleep in?”
The small man was obviously unnerved by having an enormous ogre shaking his hand, no matter how famous it was, but he managed to keep his composure. “Of course! That is the least we can do. Come. Follow me and I shall take you to our finest inn.”
Edge pursed his lips at the ogre. He didn’t like the idea of wasting time sleeping when Jhonate and the thief were already so far ahead of them. However, Fist’s reasoning was true. Every one of them, except perhaps Squirrel, had expended a tremendous amount of energy during the crossing. Even Deathclaw looked bleary-eyed.
Fine, he replied mentally to everyone through the bond. But it will be morning in a few hours. We only sleep until light. Then we go. He turned to Lenny to update him on what they were doing, but the dwarf nodded and waved him on.
Sir Edge Page 18