Vorston smiled. “Humans do tend to be overly cautious at times such as this, are you certain that you’re not part dwarf. That’s definitely a dwarfish attitude you’re got there.
Oh, by the way, here they come.”
Cal spun to face the direction that the attack was coming from, grabbing his bow and the first arrow as he did so. Again he felt the familiar feeling of being totally at one with the weapon; though this time he knew that his bow alone would not be enough, even as he let loose the arrow.
To his right he heard the solid thunk of a crossbow firing and saw one of the Shaler warriors thrown backward even harder than the one that he had hit with his own shot. Another quarrel from another crossbow wielding dwarf sped across the rapidly narrowing gap at almost the same instant as his second arrow.
Behind the screaming crowd of Shalers Cal could see a figure that appeared to be hanging back, as if he was directing the frenzied attack. Cal’s third arrow was sighted above the enemy mass that was now only paces away from his own position. For a frozen moment all he could see was the feathered end of the arrow as it sped straight and true toward its target.
Then, with blinding speed, the figure whipped its shield round and neatly deflected the shaft. Two pairs of eyes met across the slope before Cal heard a yell from his side. He only just managed to avoid the blow from the Shaler that charged him, rolling on his shoulder and coming up in a low crouch.
Dropping the bow to the ground he slid his sword out from its sheath with his right hand and deftly slipped his hunting knife into his left as he faced the more immediate foe. Although he had little experience at this kind of fighting, the others had been right when they had commented on his natural aptitude for almost all things martial. Against a skilled swordsman he would probably have been killed in short order, but Shalers were more used to raiding remote outposts where they faced little in the way of trained soldiers. More often than not their targets were old farmers and their wives on some isolated farmstead.
Catching the downward slashing sword of his opponent with the knife he swept his own blade slicing through the exposed midriff of the elf-like creature. Its scream was echoed by several others, but the main sound was one of chaos as the advancing Shalers broke into smaller groups to try and attack the defenders.
Unfortunately for the Shalers, Cal noted that this tactic suited the dwarves just fine. Stepping away from each other may have left them facing three or four each, but the dwarves were using war hammers and axes for the most part, and now had plenty of room to swing them.
Cal’s quick reflexes allowed him to run another Shaler through before he found himself facing a pair who had decided that personal glory in combat was not worth as much as staying alive, and had therefore decided to fight together rather than trying to kill some dwarf one on one for the prestige that it would earn them.
Cal found himself totally on the defensive, a position that could only have one outcome if he did nothing about it as he would soon tire and then it would be easy for the pair facing him to finish it.
In a flash he recalled the move that Farsighter had used on the road when they had faced the pack chasing Dorrin. With nothing left to lose he steeled himself and then lunged forward, between the two of them. His sword flicked right, dragging itself across the chest of the first but as he spun past he felt blinding pain in his side.
His momentum carried the spin through and he had the presence of mind to fight the fire shooting through his mind and bring his blade up and across. He never heard the thud of the Shaler’s decapitated head hitting the ground as darkness threatened to close in on his consciousness.
Something tugged at his thoughts, little more than a feeling, but he forced his eyes to focus. The figure that he had seen on the hillside was stooping over his discarded bow, studying it. The figure wore curious black armour, almost shimmering. In that fleeting moment Cal realised that the breastplate had a motif upon it in the shape of a skull. As the figure reached out his hand to pick up the bow Cal threw his hunting knife with all his remaining strength.
The point of the blade somehow managed to find the figures wrist, burying itself solidly into the flesh. Instead of the scream of pain that Cal expected though, the figure simply stood and stared at the youth. Slowly it raised its right hand, with the knife still protruding from the wrist, and began murmuring something under its breath.
Cal’s sword swept up as lightning crackled from the upraised hand and flew across the gap toward him. A blinding flash was the last thing he saw.
Vorston had seen the flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Whirling about he saw the black armoured figure stalking toward the fallen shape of the young human and without thought began to race toward them.
“No!”
The voice appeared to come from within his own head, but he could see the source standing just behind Cal. Strangely, he had not appeared to be there a short moment ago. The armoured figure hesitated a fraction of a second before lunging at the robed man that now stood in front of him.
The man brought his hand up, palm forward, and almost smiled as the attacker staggered amidst another flash of light. It struck again, with the same result. It let loose a piercing howl and then raced for the ridge of the hill they had attacked from. As it ran, the figure became more and more insubstantial, until Vorston saw it vanish completely perhaps three paces short of the top of the hill.
As soon as it had cried out it was as if the spirit left the Shaler warriors. Low moans escaped their lips and the dwarves were almost embarrassed with the ease that they finished off the remaining foe.
Vorston kept a roaming eye on the finale of the battle as he strode to the robed figure. As he reached him he briefly nodded his head in deference. “Let me see, long hooded cloak, tall, even for one of the ‘Long Lived’, appears out of nowhere, considerable magical ability, probably picked up the odd wrinkle or two over the last millennia. Am I close?”
“Friend Vorston, I am flattered that you remember me.”
“Remember, I’ve never met you before in my life, and somehow I doubt that I’ll remember this meeting with you either.”
The man pushed back the cowl of his cloak revealing greying black hair above a face that looked only to be a few years shy of fifty. His dark eyes sparkled with power.
“I wouldn’t worry about that. In fact, I’d be more worried about the fact that you will remember me after this meeting.” He looked down at the fallen figure at his feet. “He’ll be alright with a little rest.”
It took a few seconds for what the man had said to sink in. then Vorston sucked in a shocked lungful of air. “If you’re not worried about being remembered, can it really be happening?”
“You’ve seen yourself that the J’Dar and the Shalers are united, the humans will testify to the fact that the Mythraan are again abroad within the coastal kingdoms.
You’ve just seen a Koldari warrior for yourself.”
“Koldari! That would explain why the armour and emblem felt familiar. We have records of them amongst the scrolls that the elders keep.” He glanced down at Cal for a moment. “And this one?”
“He has a part to play.”
“Then I’d better ensure that he arrives at Nibar’a safely.”
“That would be a good idea. Just out of interest, you wouldn’t happen to have a sword that he could use would you.” He picked up the twisted piece of metal that was all that remained of the sword Cal had been given at Riversmeet. “It would appear that he needs a new one.”
“You know very well that we were transporting the sword south.” He paused for a few seconds as he thought through the events of the last twenty minutes. “We had hoped that we could store it safely in Bor’a until the right claimant came along. Now it would seem that we had little personal choice in the idea to place the sword amongst the packaging of this caravan.
“Not really, sorry about that.” Vorston swore that the apology was actually genuine.
“If that is the c
ase then I’d better get the rest of them together and start out for Nibar’a, we’re going to be pushing it as it is to make it within two weeks.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ve got a good nose for these things and I’m fairly confident that you won’t encounter any bad weather. Southeast will also keep you clear of the Shalers.”
“My thanks for that information friend. I guess we all have things to be doing then.”
He turned his head to check what the rest of the dwarves were doing, and seeing that all was being organised, as it should be, turned his attention back. The man had vanished.
Reunion
Farsighter had heard the yells and screams of the start of the battle as he sped away from the caravan, cutting directly eastward in order to regain the trail that Collett and the others were following. He hadn’t had the time to tell Cal what he had felt when the youngster had told him he was staying, but he knew the pride he had felt in that moment must have shone through.
Part of the Ranger creed was to protect the weak and helpless. To most Rangers it was the most important part of their creed, something that they were more than willing to put themselves into potentially dangerous situations for, but on this occasion he had also to balance that with the fact that his companions were now heading directly into danger. Perhaps if their mission had been anything less than what it was he might have chosen otherwise, but above all other beliefs he had was loyalty to the crown.
He closed his mind to the sounds that carried across the open countryside from behind him and set himself a fast, but steady, pace. It took a little under five hours to meet the trail they had been on, quickly assessing that the party had not passed this point yet. He sat by a cluster of boulders nearby and waited, seeing no point in racing southwest to meet them when he would then suggest they head almost due east. Apart from which he was no longer as young as he used to be and he had been setting a vigorous pace over the past few days.
He glanced at the sky and studied the weather for a moment before deciding to leave his cloak on whilst he waited.
Collett annoyed the Rangers with the group no end by spotting Farsighter before any of them did, and that included two on patrol who had passed within fifty yards of the old man without noticing him. The fact that he had seen them as they did and felt no need to interrupt their searching brought tears of laughter to the face of Dorrin. Laughter that was short lived as Tamala immediately asked where Cal was.
Farsighter spent the next few minutes bringing them up to date with what he had learned from the dwarves before Tamala pointed out that he still had not answered her question. Raising an eyebrow, the old man looked questioningly at Dorrin and Luda who both attempted to look anywhere except Farsighter’s eyes.
“Cal stayed with the dwarves.”
“What! How could you leave him? How dare you leave him?” The latter stated at a slightly higher pitch than the former.
“Whether he has taken the vows or not, Cal is a Ranger, and he acted as any Ranger would.” Farsighter was irritated. Whilst romance was not something that he had any personal prejudices against, and that was obviously what this was about, it had an uncanny habit of interfering with things. “He stayed to help protect women and children who were attempting to gain the safety of our kingdom. What else would you have had him do?”
There was silence for a long moment before Tamala answered. “I’m going to him.”
“Don’t be silly!” Dorrin rolled his eyes when he heard the words slip past Farsighter’s lips. Tamala stared at him furiously, then abruptly spun about on her heals and stormed to her horse. The Rangers, apart from the sergeant, had already started to set up camp for the evening and she immediately tore her pack from the saddle and began to set her own tent. The air about her dared anyone to interrupt.
“Master Farsighter, a word if you will.”
Farsighter looked at Dorrin. “What?” Now he was in a bad mood.
“It would appear that you’re not that well practiced with women.” He quickly held up his hands forestalling any immediate response. “Not that unusual for a soldier, but you might want to consider some advice. Never, not ever, should you call a woman silly.”
The other three could no longer hold themselves and suddenly all four of them were laughing loudly at the frustrated Ranger turned forester.
“What about Cal?” It was Collett that asked once he had regained control of himself.
“I didn’t want to spoil the lad’s sense of purpose, but in all honesty forty Shaler against a dozen dwarves would, under normal circumstances, usually be a fairly even fight. With women and children to protect I almost felt like offering my skills to the Shalers in an attempt to even things up.
He’ll be fine. Besides, the leader of the group, Vorston, offered to see him safely to Nibar’a.”
“Why didn’t you tell Tamala that?”
“She’s come a long way since we left Holdur, but she’s still a bit too sure of herself. She needs a few shocks to prepare her for what we will face later. This will do her some good in the long run, even if she spends the trip down to the coast hating the very air I move through. I can live with that.”
Once again the group chuckled, though this time all five joined in.
Cal’s eyes fluttered open. The first thing that he saw was canvas, before he realised that he was staring at the inside of one of the dwarven caravans. From the bouncing and jarring that he was being subjected to it was obvious that they were on the move, and none too slowly either. A groan escaped his lips and immediately a head filled his vision.
“How do you feel?”
Cal tried desperately to focus his eyes and succeeded, though his head felt as if someone were pounding inside in an attempt to escape the confines of his skull.
“My head is splitting.”
The dwarf chuckled. “I’m not surprised considering what you’ve been through. I’ll let Vorston know that you’re awake.”
The head disappeared from view and Cal heard the rustle of the flaps of fabric that covered the back of the wagon being swung aside. He spent a few seconds pulling his memories back together before trying to sit upright. His success was rewarded by more pain in his head.
By the time he heard the scuffing of boot leather on the end of the caravan that signalled the arrival of Vorston, he had pretty much got his thoughts straight, though he wasn’t sure about the last things he remembered. He’d seen the strange warrior fire some sort of bolt of energy at him, but a quick physical check of his body had shown up little in the way of injury.
“Young master Cal, good to see you awake again.”
“Friend Vorston. Glad as I am to see you, I wish that you’d stop swaying, both of you.”
Vorston laughed. “Good to see that you’ve risen in fine humour. The headache should subside shortly, and if you’re still having trouble with your vision, let someone know and we’ll try and treat it.”
“Where are we?”
“Apart from inside a wagon? We’re heading for Nibar’a; we should be there in a little over a week.”
“A week. How long have I been unconscious?”
“About four days. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, you took quite a wallop.”
“Then?”
“Yes, you do remember correctly. Not many could have faced a Koldari warrior and survived.” Vorston suddenly looked as if he’d just remembered some detail that he had forgotten. “You might find that you have need of a new sword though.”
He reached round to a small bundle behind where Cal lay and produced the remains of his blade.
“It has to be said that it’s looking a bit worse for wear.”
Cal stared at it for a long moment before sighing. “I guess that explains why I’m still alive instead of fried.”
Smiling, Vorston reached past to a second bundle. This one he picked up and carefully laid it on the wooden floor between them.
“Perhaps we might make amends.”
He unrolled th
e waxen fabric that protected the object and sat back to leave Cal a clear view of it. He found himself staring at the hilt of a sheathed sword, but he had never seen a design like it. The shaft of the hilt was covered in what looked to be some finely woven fabric, whilst there appeared to be a design similar to an inverted flowering bud between two leaves, except that it would have been the largest flower Cal had seen as the leaves were six inches in length and pointed at their ends. The bud itself was narrow, almost spearhead shaped in appearance.
Two flowing prongs sprouted from the blade end of the hilt, serrated on the attacking side, and again needle sharp at their tips. The scabbard itself was quite wide, perhaps six inches across, and intricately designed with dwarven runes.
As he grasped the hilt and lifted the blade clear he saw that it was about three feet long, superbly crafted and mirror bright. It widened toward the midsection before curving back on itself at the end. It was clearly the most magnificent sword he had ever heard of, let alone seen.
“Vorston…” Cal was speechless.
“It’s yours. There was no reason for you to fight at our side other than your honour, and it is your honour that we reward. The blade was originally designed for a human to use anyway, for a dwarf it would be the equivalent of a great sword, and we much prefer axes and hammers.”
Cal slowly twisted it through the air, slowly because of the confined space inside the wagon, and marvelled at its balance. It almost felt as if there was no weight to it at all, it was that well made.
“I am honoured that you think me worthy of such a gift.” Both fell silent as Cal continued to stare at the sword. A slight smile flickered across the face of the tough dwarf, though he was careful not to let the youngster see it.
“I’m just glad that you like it. I think I’d rather see the sword going to someone who will use it for good, rather than some rich mercenary who would use it for whoever was paying his current wage.”
Fall of a Kingdom Page 16
