The Sworn Knight

by Robert Ryan

The were-beasts howled and barked and grunted at that. They understood her, and she knew they would.

  Yet still she was surprised that her ploy worked.

  In a frenzy, the beasts scrambled up the slope toward her. She had reached them, and insulted them. So too with Savanest, and if he had the power to recall his servants, the moment to do so had passed and was lost. He followed in the trail of the beasts.

  Ferla marked a target. It was a hound, jaws slavering and eyes feral. It was, she thought, the one that had originally scented her trail. It had been a man, and somewhere within it the mind of that man still endured. She did not know if she did it a favor now, or if it wanted to live. But if she were to live, or evade a fate even worse than the hound’s, she must kill it and as many of the others as she could take.

  She released her breath slowly, and her first arrow winged through the wind. It was a distant target, and conditions were bad with both the wind and the slope to contend with. Yet still the arrow flew true, and even as the hound stumbled over a rock that turned beneath the weight of its paws, the arrow hit it square in the chest.

  The hound leaped in the air and howled. When it fell, the arrow was buried deep in it, and it worried it with its massive jaws.

  Blood frothed on those jaws, and darkened the thick fur of its chest. But it clambered no more up the slope, and Ferla ignored it.

  This was but the beginning of a battle that would decide her fate, and that of her companions whom she loved.

  25. Through Their Eyes

  Ferla did not hasten. She trusted her skill with the bow, and her long years of practice.

  To her, she was not moving fast, yet to the others it would seem so. Her movements were slick and smooth, and another arrow was nocked and the bow drawn in little more than a heartbeat.

  Against her nose and cheek, she felt the bow string. For a moment, she hesitated. Savanest was her main target, but she had no clear line of sight. If she killed him, it was possible that the magic of the were-stone that was used to control the beasts would be directionless, and they would scatter. It seemed unlikely, but it was worth the attempt.

  Savanest stumbled over a rock, and she released her breath letting the arrow speed away. Even as she drew another one from her quiver, she watched the speeding arrow through the air.

  But the knight had guessed she would attempt this, and even as he stumbled he righted himself and moved behind a beast again. Her arrow struck the beast, but it was not a killing blow. It yelped, but came on with the arrow sticking out of its flank.

  Ferla wasted no more time on Savanest. She marked the closest beast scrambling up the slope. It was a thing on four legs, still part human, covered in bristling hide and with the tusks of a boar protruding from its face.

  The arrow flew true, taking the beast in the throat. It reared up, and when it screamed the voice was human. But it fell to the ground, and those who were once its comrades in arms but now its packmates scrambled over it as they climbed the slope.

  Another arrow sung through the air. It took a beast in the eye, and it tumbled backward to trip and cast over those who came directly behind.

  And so it went. Ferla had no sense of time. All that existed in the entire universe was that rocky slope, the beasts and the plying of her deadly skill. All over the slope the evidence of that skill lay in tumbled heaps. They were dead, or dying. Blood soaked the rocks, and screams rent the air louder than the thunder.

  She heard little of it. She saw little of it. There was only nock, pull, aim and release. And ever she aimed for those beasts that led the chaotic charge against her. Each time that one fell the others jostled around it, seeking to avoid its flailing claws or gnashing teeth. Unless they were bigger, in which case they trampled over it uncaring in their lust to reach her. But each death bought her a moment of extra time to loose another arrow.

  Until there were no more arrows. She reached back to her quiver and grasped empty air. Her stock was used up, yet still the beasts were coming, and they were close now.

  Ferla cast aside the bow, now useless, and drew her sword. For the first time she looked upon the death she had wrought, and saw that the slope was littered with bodies. Yet still more than twenty beasts came on, and behind them was Savanest, still using them as protection.

  Nearby, Kubodin yelled a wild battle cry, and he pulled a spear from the ground and cast it into the onrushing attackers.

  On her other side, Asana did the same, only silently. But the spears were not steel tipped, and the beasts large. Some of the enemy fell, and some were wounded, but most came on despite the rain of sharpened shafts.

  Ferla could see their eyes now. The drip of saliva frothing at their snouts or the glint of rain on tusks. She heard their baying and grunting, and once more fear surged over her. The enemy were too many, and there was no way to fight such beasts, and still there remained the knight himself, more deadly still.

  And she cursed that she had spent all her arrows, for now she had a clear view of him, but no means to kill him.

  She thought of attacking with magic, but it was not her best skill and she must keep that in reserve to counter anything the knight himself might do.

  The last of the spears was thrown, and then bright blades flashed. The three companions drew close so that they might protect each other and prevent themselves from being surrounded.

  A beast with the body of a hound and the head of a boar tried to gut Asana with massive tusks, but his blade whipped out slicing down the side of the creature’s neck and sending arterial blood spurting high into the air.

  Yet still he was knocked back by the weight of the dying beast. Kubodin cried out, and his axe swung in a glittering arc and it severed the leg of a hound that leaped toward his friend.

  Ferla faced her own enemy. A beast shambled toward her, rising on two legs like a bear. It roared in her face, saliva flying and lightning flaring behind it to make it seem otherworldly. Her sword gutted it, but still the great claws came down and smashed against her side sending her flying.

  If not for the armor, she might have died. Yet she feared some of her ribs were broken. She rose and leaped back toward her friends. They must not be separated otherwise the enemy would surround them and pull them down one by one.

  The bear creature came at her again, shuffling forward on two legs but trampling its own intestines. Rage drove it, and magic drove that rage. She hacked at it again, half severing its head and avoiding another smashing claw. But even as she did so a were-beast like a wolf, smaller than the others but nimble, leaped at her throat.

  The creature smashed into her, bearing her back, and she felt its hot breath on her neck. She turned and stepped back, flinging it from her and bringing her sword up in a slashing movement.

  The wolf thing howled, blood flowing from the bottom of its snout, and tried to close again.

  Ferla moved into Tempest Blows the Dust, her sword arcing up and down. Several times she struck the beast, and it fell away. She had not forgotten the bear, but Kubodin had cracked his axe against the massive head and it had finally fallen to the ground like a logged tree.

  She knew what was happening then, and it sickened her. The creatures had not tried to kill her. They had tried to bring her down to the ground. From there, she could be captured.

  Better to die than that, but she had no more time for thought. Another were-hound came at her, lips parted in a rictus growl, teeth showing and eyes fixed in hatred. She fended it off, but she saw Asana stumble.

  Dead creatures lay around the sword master, but blood welled from a bite in his arm, and it was his sword arm too. Yet somehow he managed to take the hilt of the blade in his left hand, and he fought nearly as well that way as with his right.

  The three companions were being overwhelmed though, and Ferla felt the maddening frustration of that. There was nothing to do but fall back, which they did. But the advantage of the slope that had served them so well was lost now.

  They fought within the first few trees of t
he forest, but they could use no trunk to guard their rear. Instead, they formed a tight circle, fighting back to back. But if one fell, then the other two would be exposed to attack from two sides at once.

  Kubodin cried out some war cry that she had never heard before. His great axe, Discord, flashed in deadly arcs. Asana fought silently, barely seeming to move but evading attacks and dealing death with sublime grace. Ferla herself, though her arm was beyond tired and her breath heaved in her chest like fire, fought off her own attackers.

  It could not go on. The were-beasts were frenzied, and though most of them had fallen since that first arrow, there were still enough left to overwhelm tiring opponents. And behind them all, she caught glimpses of Savanest, not risking himself in the battle but ready to pounce when he could and take her prisoner.

  “I will never be a Morleth Knight!” she screamed, and from some hidden depth new strength flowed into her. She laid about her with her sword, dealing death. The beasts withdrew from her, dismayed.

  But her new strength did not last long. It was the last ebb of her defiance, and she stumbled.

  The enemy were on her again. Jaws snapping, howls rending the air. Even as a great were-hound leaped at her, silhouetted by a streak of lightning that sizzled through the air nearby, she tripped and the beast smashed into her chest.

  The earth shook with thunder even as she crashed to the ground, the weight of the beast atop her. Somehow, she lost a grip of her sword, and her two hands came up to grab the creature’s neck, trying to throw it off her.

  It was to no avail. It was too heavy and too strong for her. Had it wanted to kill her, it could have. Its fetid breath was hot against her exposed neck, but it did not try to bite

  Another hound joined the first, and the weight was crushing. Her only hope was help from either Asana or Kubodin, but that did not come. She could not see them, and they may even be dying themselves as she lay there. Or perhaps they could not reach her.

  Her hands gripped the thick fur, and she strained with all her might to shift the creature off her, but she was not strong enough, and knew it.

  Yet she did not give up. She would never give up, and as she heaved the pale were-stone glimmered before her eyes against the dark hair of the beast. How she hated it!

  She could sense the evil of the thing. It infuriated her. What mind could encompass the making of such a thing? What mind could invoke its magic?

  Savanest had done so though, and it occurred to her that she could also. What he could do, she could as well. But dare she?

  She would never do so. Not for the purposes Savanest had. But to save her life? To save herself from capture and being brought before the Morleth Stone? Some instinct flared to life that transcended morals. It surged through her, giving her hope, however desperate.

  Her hand crept through the fur. Suddenly her fingers touched the stone, and then she gripped it in a fist. It was cold against her skin, but she felt the magic of it and her own sparked to life.

  The two magics met, and she pulsed her power into the depths of the cold stone. Suddenly she was one with the were-beasts. She sensed what they sensed and felt what they felt. She sensed their animal natures, but so too what remained of them that was human. She saw through their eyes, and perceived also the overriding command sent by Savanest himself, for he too was connected by magic to all the stones.

  Even as she became aware of him, he became aware of her. She felt his shock though that she had touched the stones and joined her magic to them. That was to her advantage and she acted swiftly to use it before he thought to counter her.

  She hated what she was doing, but swiftly she sent an image to the beasts of them rending each other. She sent the thought to them that they must kill one another, for they were their own true enemies.

  The were-beasts yelped and howled. The two atop her began to fight, and she feared they would kill her by accident as they snarled and bit each other. But she held firm to the were-stone, and the chain that secured it to the beast snapped as it rolled off her.

  Snatching up her sword in her left hand she sprang to her feet. Blood dripped from her right hand where the chain had ripped into her flesh.

  She ignored the pain. Looking around, she saw Asana and Kubodin were still up. They were drawing closer to her and away from the beasts that fought each other. They wanted no part of that battle.

  Through the stone in her hand, she felt Savanest try to wrench control of the beasts back from her. She defied it with all her will, but she knew instinctively she was at a disadvantage. The stone she held was connected by magic to all the rest, but it was not the controlling stone.

  The fight she now fought was every bit as fierce as the one she was fighting just before. But this was invisible, and a contest of will alone. She held in her mind the image of the beasts attacking one another. But she saw also Savanest’s image of them turning and rending the flesh of Asana and Kubodin.

  Ferla went down on one knee with the strain of the battle. Through the stone she sensed Savanest’s triumph, and it was at just that moment that she decided to attack him.

  She dropped the sword and from her left hand lòhren-fire darted toward the knight, and he leaped out of the way in surprise. But his concentration was broken, and she wrested control of the beasts fully to herself.

  She sensed the fighting that was going on, felt jaws on throats crushing away life, saw in her mind claws ripping open bellies. She was aware of it all and the slipping away into death of those she was connected to.

  Asana and Kubodin must have had some glimmer of recognition of what was going on. They sped toward Savanest to distract him from his battle with her. She sensed Savanest’s dark sorcery rise and almost felt the heat of it as he scattered fire at them.

  The two men dodged, but still some of the blast hit them and they were sent sprawling. But Ferla kept her will on the beasts and the last two of them died, killing each other.

  Her anger flared anew then. She had been forced into using the dark sorcery of the stone, and she knew she would use it yet once more.

  She strode toward Savanest, and warned her two friends.

  “Stay back,” she ordered. “I have this now. Savanest is mine.”

  “Nay,” the knight answered. “You are mine.”

  She knew what he would attempt, and was ready for it. Indeed, she was already doing it herself to him. Through the were-stone she sent a pulse of magic and invoked its own dark sorcery. She would transform Savanest into a beast as he had done to his men. No punishment could be more fitting.

  Her magic and his clashed. Her will fought against his. The dark sorcery of the stone built up, towering invisibly and ready to unleash itself. But neither Morleth Knight nor Kingshield Knight, for so she knew she now was, held the ascendancy.

  The storm raged around them, with lashing rain and wind. Hail fell, smashing into the stones of the slope and hammering into the boughs of the trees, bringing down leaves.

  Ferla ignored it. It was nothing compared to the battle being fought.

  Asana and Kubodin were ready to attack, but they held their positions. They trusted her, and followed her order. But if she faltered they would launch themselves at the knight. And surely die.

  So she stepped closer, and redoubled her efforts to drive the sorcery of the were-stone into Savanest.

  The knight attacked her. Not with magic or steel, but with words.

  “Fool girl! Join us, and the world will be yours. Defy us, and even if you live all your friends will perish. Especially Faran, for we have learned where he goes and already a trap is set for him.”

  Ferla felt her emotions reeling. She could not bear to lose Faran. Not ever. But was this merely an attempt to distract her?

  Her will faltered, and Savanest stepped toward her with confidence.

  “Join me, and I will save Faran. Defy me, and he will die.”

  It was too much to bear. How could she make such a choice? But she knew what Faran would want. And over and abo
ve his life, and hers, she had a responsibility. Faladir needed her. Her people needed her.

  She gathered her will, and drove it with her anger. “We would both rather die. I am the seventh knight, and I judge you and sentence you.”

  Even as she spoke she hurled her magic into the stone. Savanest reeled back, and she strode toward him. She was no longer Ferla. She was the seventh knight of legend and prophesy, and her rage was terrible.

  Tears streamed down her face, for she may have condemned Faran, but she stood above her adversary and unleashed the power of the were-stone.

  Savanest tried to resist, but she overwhelmed him. The knight screamed, and held up a hand imploringly. She ignored the gesture.

  The magic roared through him, and he screamed again. Hair sprouted all over him, and became fur. He lifted high his head, and Ferla heard bones crack and lengthen. His body changed, and muscles swelled until his clothes split. He bent and gnawed with great teeth at belt and boots, worrying at them until they came free.

  Savanest, once a Kingshield Knight was become a beast, and Ferla was glad. He had got what he deserved. Had she been merciful, she would have killed him. Instead, she flung out an arm.

  “Flee!” she commanded. “Run, and haunt the wild as an animal. Shun men, but know that once you were one!”

  The beast stood trembling, a deep growl throbbing in its throat, and then the force of the magic that controlled it took full force. It leaped away into the forest and was gone.

  Asana gazed at her, his clothes torn and bloodied, his eyes full of sympathy, and perhaps even shock at her sense of justice. But he did not disagree, else he would have spoken.

  Kubodin merely grinned at her. “Now that’s what I call fitting,” he said.

  The storm faded. They found shelter from the remnants of it in the forest, and tended their wounds. They were lucky to be alive, and knew it. Asana had fared worst, being bitten and raked by claws. He would need days of rest to recover, but that would not happen. They could not stay here, but must continue to flee or risk being found again.