Immortal Swordslinger 3

by Dante King

  If he was merely a thief, as his poaching of our food seemed to imply, then he was going about it in a strange way. He could have vanished into the night at that point and none of us would have been able to find him, but instead, he was lingering, toying with me.

  He could have been sent to kill us—after all, we had new enemies here and old ones back home, all eager to make us pay, and there had to be people who would hunt down a potential Swordslinger just on principle. But again, he wasn’t acting like a killer. Though he had a leaf-bladed spear strapped to his back, he hadn’t even tried to use it once, and when he gained a decisive advantage, he stepped away rather than following up.

  That only left one option: for some reason, he was testing us.

  It was time for me to do some testing of my own. If I threw some potentially deadly magic at him, then his reactions would tell me a lot about what was going on. If he escalated, then this was clearly all buildup to a kill. If he backed off, then maybe there was a more positive agenda here.

  I cupped my hands together and summoned fire between them. The flames became a sphere that I launched an Untamed Torch in the lizardman’s direction, targeted not to hit him but to go a couple of inches past his head.

  The first thing I learned was that this guy had nerves of steel. He stayed stock-still as the fire flew toward him and past his face. He didn’t even blink as the burst of light blazed by, and his cloudy eyes remained completely still.

  Our mysterious attacker was blind.

  He must be using another sense to find us in the fight. I’d learned in school about how snakes used vibration to identify where their prey was; could that be what this guy was doing? It would explain how he could so easily and precisely follow and counter our movements without having to even look in the right direction.

  Knowing that gave me something to work with. I couldn’t make myself invisible, but maybe I could create vibrations to hide behind, just like I would use terrain to shelter me in a normal fight.

  I called on my Vigor again and sent magical energy flowing down the wood channels that created Plank Pillar. The magic ran through my feet and down through the ground, heading in several directions at once. As each burst of magic neared the surface, the ground around it shook, then bulged, before a pillar of wood burst out of the ground.

  I watched the lizardman’s face as the first pillar burst out. Only a little twitch betrayed how much the sudden vibration had drawn his attention, but that twitch was the most advantage I’d gained so far.

  Another plank pillar shot up, and another. I’d deliberately set them at angles that wouldn’t be stable, and now, the first one crashed to the ground.

  While the other vibrations masked my movements, I advanced across the sand-strewn ground. I sent out more Plank Pillars as I went, and any time the rest of the world went still, so did I.

  The lizardman stood perfectly still, the stolen food forgotten. He tipped his head from side to side, and I guessed that he was listening to determine where I’d gone. But the falling pillars masked the sound of my footsteps as well as the other vibrations.

  I stopped a dozen feet from him. Much closer now, I risked him being able to tell the vibrations apart or just feeling the air move at my approach.

  I gathered my Vigor and took a deep breath.

  Once more, I sent Plank Pillars out through the ground. This time, I directed them behind the lizardman, penning him in. As they rose, I predicted he would try to vanish beneath the earth, so I sent a superheated Untamed Torch at his feet. He yelped and jumped onto a nearby Plank Pillar and gripped onto it with his claws. I continued to burn the ground until the sand turned into glass.

  “Let’s see you try to make an escape now,” I said. “Are we done now?”

  The lizardman laughed, a sudden sound that made me stiffen. “Oh, yes, all done.” He prodded at my hand. “I know I have a fine face by any standard, but you can let go now. I promise, no more running, no more hitting, and no more stealing your food.”

  The others had gotten back to their feed with a certain amount of wincing and cursing. As I let go of our visitor, the whole team gathered around.

  “Greetings, weary travelers.” The lizardman stood, bowed, and held our haversack aloft. “I bring you this offering, a welcome present for your new home.”

  “That’s our bag,” Vesma said. “And this isn’t our home.”

  “Then I guess it all balances out.” The lizardman tossed the haversack to her. “And we can start over again. I am Tahlis, Guildmaster of the Steadfast Horn Guild.”

  “You’re the Guildmaster?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Out here in the wilderness. On your own.”

  I recalled how the city guards had spoken of Tahlis with as much disdain as Lord Ganyir. If he was an enemy of Mahrai and the cultists, then perhaps he could be a friend.

  “I am indeed. And that, my little desert flowers, should tell you everything you need to know about the state of the Steadfast Horn.” He looked us up and down. “Do you have names?”

  “I’m Ethan Murphy lo Pashat,” I said. “These are my friends Vesma, Kegohr, and Kumi.”

  I couldn’t help still feeling a little annoyed at the lizardman, but he seemed more of a prankster than a real danger. He was a far cry from the solemn and noble demeanor of Guildmaster Xilarion. He also didn’t seem evil and twisted like Horix had been.

  “Delighted to meet you,” Tahlis said. “And what brings four foreign travelers to this delightful destination?” He gestured at the barren desert, the ruined houses, and the heap of burning wood.

  “I’m on the Path of the Immortal Swordslinger. That path has brought us here, to tackle a corruption in Gonki province.”

  “Well, I never. I haven’t met a burgeoning Swordslinger in many years. I sense great Wild power in two of your companions as well, and I’m assuming that the last lady is as powerful as she is agile.”

  “Powerful enough to knock you down in the dirt,” Vesma said, hands on hips. “If you’ve got the guts for a straight fight this time.”

  “Young disciple, you should know never to get into a straight fight. Use every advantage the sands give you.”

  We stood staring at the Guildmaster. His cloudy eyes never settled on any of us, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that he was paying close attention, waiting and sensing what we would do next.

  “Why did you attack us?” I asked.

  “I was bored,” he replied with a shrug. “And there have been scouts running out of Hyng’ohr City to hunt me down, far too many of them lately. I wanted to see whether you were more of the same.”

  “Well, we’re not Hyng’ohr scouts.”

  “Exactly what a Hyng’ohr scout would say!” He laughed. “I’m messing with you; none of them are halfway as capable as you are.”

  Kumi frowned. “Why are they hunting for you?”

  Tahlis sighed. “That’s such a long story. There’s arrogance and ambition, tragedy and greed, maybe even a joke or two to keep the people in the cheap seats listening.”

  “We can cope with long stories,” I said. “Ours takes a while.”

  “Then I’m happy to tell, but perhaps we could head back to my residence first?”

  “Your residence?” Vesma asked. “The guild house?”

  “No, not the guild house,” he answered. “I’ve taken up the Sunstone Temple as my home. It’s a lot safer than trying to sleep out here in the Vigorous Zone. Fewer monsters, unless you worry about the ones under beds.”

  I looked around at my companions and raised a questioning eyebrow. Kumi nodded her agreement. Kegohr shrugged, as happy with a night of monster fighting as with a good night’s sleep. Vesma signaled her unenthusiastic assent with the smallest of nods.

  “All right,” I said. “Let us gather our things, and we’ll go.”

  Soon, we were walking along the familiar valley road. The moon and stars shone down, illuminating our journey toward a natural stone pillar some miles away, topped with the tower of the Su
nstone Temple. The ground was still sandy, but dunes starting giving way to formations of old and wind-worn sandstone. They cast angular shadows across the moonlit ground, creating a strange and broken landscape.

  “What happened here?” Vesma asked.

  “First, I attacked you,” Tahlis said. “Then, you decided to make friends with me, and now, you’re coming to sleep at my place. It’s turning into a wild night!”

  “Not that,” she said through gritted teeth. “What happened to Gonki?”

  “Oh, that! Well, I suppose I did promise you a long story.

  “It all starts with two brothers, as folktales often do. Except this is less a folktale and more a tale about folks, in this case Ganyir and Targin, the sons of the late Lord Fermaff Gonki. As young men, both showed an enthusiasm and a talent for war, both in physical combat and in leading their troops. Bold warriors in the finest traditions of Gonki. There was great hope that they’d revive this province’s faltering fortunes, at least among those who always believe that the past is best. You know the types—old, rich people in old, rich houses, dreaming of a world where everyone knew right from wrong, and the right way was theirs.”

  “We don’t need the social analysis,” I said. I’d known enough of those types back on Earth; I didn’t need more of it in the Seven Realms.

  “Just tell us the history,” Vesma added.

  “Fine, fine. But if you want to learn from my guild, you’ll have to learn to respect its masters. Once we have the right ones back in place, that is.

  “Anyway, Ganyir was the more capable of the two brothers, a better fighter and a more powerful Augmenter, which was fortunate as he was the eldest son and so, heir to the province. For what it’s worth, many also considered him the better of the two—honorable, courteous, willing to listen to enemies as well as friends, proud and supportive of the people of his clan. When Lord Fermaff died, there was mourning, as was only appropriate, but it was soon followed by rejoicing for the ascent of Lord Ganyir.

  “But even as we celebrated, trouble was stirring in the streets of Hyng’ohr. Mysterious strangers had appeared among our people, offering a new path to strength and prosperity.”

  “The Unswerving Shadows Cult,” I said.

  “You’ve met them! Charming, aren’t they? Nothing makes me love a cult like seeing it scapegoat Wilds like me. And all that conspiring in corners, such a charming custom.

  “I was one of the first to seriously clash with the cult, and I thought that I was acting quickly, but in truth, I had left it too late. They had their claws not just in the city but in my guild. Just because I liked to play the occasional prank and sometimes dropped jokes into my lessons, they convinced many in the guild that I didn’t take them seriously. The Steadfast Horn are good people, but our culture encourages a certain pig-headed seriousness, so they were open to the cult’s ideas. They turned against me, and I was cast out.”

  “What about the land?” Vesma asked, growing a little impatient.

  “I told you this was a long story. Do you know what long means, or have you been meeting the wrong sorts of men?”

  Vesma shot a look at me, and her lips curved into a smile. “My man is capable of telling very long stories. But he doesn’t blabber all the time about himself. Just get on with it.”

  “I’m trying! So, I was cast out, chased back into this wasteland where I’d been born and raised. What happened next I didn’t see myself, but I’ve heard enough to know the truth of it.

  “The Unswerving Shadows got to Targin. He had always been jealous of Ganyir, so he was susceptible to the whispers in his ear saying that he should be lord. He was a thug and a bully, not a noble warrior like his brother, but he was also more cynical and deceptive, so Ganyir didn’t suspect. Targin and the cult recruited many to their side, then took to suppressing their opponents, filling the streets of Hyng’ohr with fear and death. As more and more of his people turned against him, Ganyir withdrew from the city, believing that they would realize their mistake and beg him to return. But he was wrong. Targin consolidated his hold with the help of mercenaries. The sort of tactics for which Gonki Legions used to serve other rulers were turned against us. Now, Targin is the Lord of the Gonki.”

  We walked on through the night, pondering the tragedy of the Gonki brothers. But as I looked across the barren wilderness around us, another thought rose to the fore, the one that had triggered this whole, sorry tale.

  “What about the land?” I asked.

  “That came after they won. So-called Lord Targin went into the Vigorous Zone, along with our High Priest Saruqin and a group of warriors. They took the Earth Core from the heart of the zone so that they could use it to empower their own people, an unthinkable desecration of a Zone.

  “With the Earth Core gone, the monsters continued to come, but the guiding spirit who had made the land livable was gone. The place has become a wasteland, rapidly expanding up and down the valley. Farms and villages have vanished under the sand, sometimes in a matter of days. Magical beasts are running amok.”

  “Speaking of which…” Vesma pointed out among the boulders.

  Shapes were shifting in the moonlight, a score or more of human-size figures, walking toward us.

  As they advanced into the open, I saw their faces and their strange, angular limbs. They were stone golems, like the ones we had faced earlier in the desert. Each one was armed with some sort of stone weapon, and each wore an expression of furious malevolence.

  We drew our weapons and readied ourselves.

  Chapter Five

  More than 20 golems advanced in packs, groups of three or four striding toward us across the rocky and sand-strewn ground. None of them spoke, and I had no idea if they even could, or if the mouths carved into their faces were just for show. Their only sound was the thud of stone feet. The moonlight lent them a dark and ghoulish aspect, their faces a broken tableaux of angular shadows and bleak gray stone.

  “Master strengthens me with every battle,” Yono said as I held the Depthless Dream Trident out in front of me.

  I was so used to fighting with the Sundered Heart Sword that it felt strange to be using anything else, but the fight against Mahrai’s giant earth golem outside the city gates had shown me that we had to try new tricks.

  I called up the power of water and let it flow through me, emerging in a crackle of forming ice to make plate armor all across my body. Practice had let me refine my Frozen Armor technique so that the plates fitted perfectly to me and left me agile, as if I were fighting in just my clothes.

  Around me, my companions were also preparing. Kumi pulled out a water skin, poured its contents into the air, and started weaving it between her hands, chanting as she used the Song of the Sea. Kegohr and Vesma summoned Flame Shields and sent more fire flaring down their weapons. Tahlis laughed as he raised his leaf-bladed spear.

  “Quite the statuesque beauties, aren’t they?” he said as he watched the golems approach.

  “They’re regular Michelangelos,” I replied. “All that’s missing is a little full frontal nudity.”

  “Are you saying they’re dressed?” Tahlis asked. “Because I’m not hearing the rustle of tunics.”

  “All I’m seeing is a whole lot of weapons.”

  “And they won’t be seeing much of me.”

  Suddenly, sand swirled around Tahlis. He vanished, as he had done while fighting us in the sand-swept village.

  Since that fight, Tahlis had explained the technique he used, Hidden Burrow, and now that I knew what I was looking for, I could follow what was happening. The swirling dust was just for show, a bit of misdirection to throw off observers. While it was sweeping around him, the earth opened and swallowed him. The ground around him became like liquid, and he was able to walk swiftly through it. Moments after he had disappeared, he appeared again behind one of the golems, again in that distinctive whirl of sand.

  “Hello there.” He tapped the golem on the shoulder. As it turned around, Tahlis’ spear slammed int
o its head. It staggered back with a long, pale scratch across its face.

  Tahlis held his arms wide and unleashed another of his techniques—Sandstorm. A blistering whirlwind burst out around him and flung fine dust in every direction. The leading golems clutched their faces as sand swarmed their eyes.

  While they were distracted, we seized our chance. Vesma darted between the golems on the left. She put out a swift flurry of blows with her spear, each one jabbing at the exposed joints of a golem. None of those blows were hard enough to break anything, but they drew the creatures’ attention, and a whole pack turned to go after her.

  That left the creatures’ backs exposed, and Kegohr hefted his mace in both hands and swung it at the back of the nearest creature’s head. There was a crack as the stone neck exploded, and the head went flying across the crowd to smash another golem in the face. Even as the body fell, Kegohr struck again. His mace hit another golem in the side, and dust flew as cracks rippled across its chest.

  I leaped in among the golems that Tahlis had blinded. Fighting with a trident was different from fighting with a sword. I couldn’t rely on slashing and hacking, but there was great power in stabbing at an opponent’s weak spots. That power was reinforced as I sent my Vigor flowing down the weapon so that its tips were encrusted in ice crystals and imbued with the pure power of water.

  I thrust the trident into the joint around the waist of a golem. There was a grinding sound as metal drove deep between the two sections of stone. The golem turned to face me, and I pushed harder, driving my weapon deep inside, then twisted. The power flowed through me, and a mighty crack resounded as the creature split in half.

  “You call that an attack?” Tahlis said. “Twist as you stab, use the full force for leverage.”

  Another golem, half-blind from the sand in its eyes, tried to grab me from behind. I swung the butt of the spear into its face. As it staggered, I twisted around and swept its legs out with a kick. It hit the ground with a heavy thud. Before it could move, I thrust the trident into its neck with all my strength. The neck snapped, and the head rolled off. The slain golem lay still.