Convict Fenix

by Alan Brickett

  The first sign of other prey nearby was the smell. Being closely related to wolves, the wargs had that keen sense.

  The scent was motionless, meaning it was most likely something scared into inaction and they would quickly pass it. But, the scent also had hints of metal, oil, and the sweat of battle, as well as old adrenaline and the unwashed body odor of a humanoid. They might have to deal with it.

  Or it could be an excellent addition to the hunt.

  Fenix watched from high in the tree he had quickly climbed as five of the wargs had peeled off from the rear of the arrowhead, their lanky legs rapidly accelerating them at an angle toward Convenient.

  The old knight had again used the hand signals of his people once he was out of easy earshot. The instructions clearly sent him to get ahead and into position to attack, while the knight would take that flank.

  He had not pressed Convenient about how the man knew those hand signs. But he expected the answer would again be a deflection. So he obeyed, seeing no reason to argue now that they were committed to interfering.

  He followed the lead warg, sighted along the arrow knocked to the bowstring. And then he let fly. Unerringly, his arrow flew true, right into the giant wolf’s eye, where the matted fur did not protect it.

  The warg’s headlong momentum carried its body over the sudden drop of its head and forelegs. Even as the body went limp, its weight flipped it over to crash and roll. It ended up against the base of a large tree, the body already shriveling and giving off the black and white mist.

  At least these were not summoned entities.

  The rest of the pack shuffled to a stop among the trees, attempting to sniff out where this new attack had come from. They were smart, Fenix gave them that. Without staying still for too long, they broke apart into cover under roots or among bushes. Using his magic, he burned away his scent.

  A simple enough trick—and a handy one.

  Nullification of an enemy’s advantages was a good strategy; they would have to find him through sight.

  The forest lit up near where Convenient had hidden. The wargs that had gone after him must have gotten too close. Fenix glimpsed the white light of the knight’s sword, lengthened far beyond the ordinary steel, slashing back and forth.

  He would have to fend for himself, Fenix loosed another arrow that passed between branches and leaves to kill a second warg.

  As big and resilient as the creatures were, it was hard to do much with all that teeth and muscle when your brain and spinal cord had been severed. But the sound of his arrow did tip them off some. He could see some of them change direction to head closer to him.

  He had to work more quickly and fired a few more arrows in succession. Each one struck true, downing another warg.

  As fast as he was, they were at least as quick. Three of them had honed in on the buzzing sound of the arrows, barely audible to Fenix, but clear to the wargs. The remainder of the pack also moved to better cover.

  With the origin of the arrows now more evident, they could put obstacles between their vulnerable eyes and him. Roots, rocks, tree trunks and dense brush all served to hinder his attacks.

  One of the beasts leaped up, claws scrabbling at bark for a foothold, climbing and lurching from branch to branch. Fenix heard it coming, that kind of sound clear as keyed to it as he was, so when it popped its fanged maw around the side of the tree at him, he was ready.

  His fist thundered into the side of the warg’s skull, powered by a spurt of magical blue flame from his elbow adding considerable force.

  The snapping jaws were halted by the impact. The beasts’ skull fractured and cracked, its brain reduced to mush and gore. Bone splinters perforated the inside and made a mess of the tongue and sinus cavities, blood spurt from the other ear under the pressure while it fell from the tree in a limp bundle. Hitting the ground hard enough to break more bones.

  If it had still been alive, the creature would have been done in by the fall.

  Fenix turned to face the echoing roar following the wargs and floating women. A large creature, tall enough to come face to face with Fenix where he perched in the tree, lumbered out of the forest. With a fat pot belly and stumpy legs, the creature had a blunt face, small nostrils, and tusks growing from either side of a scarred mouth.

  This was a creature that ate just about anything and didn’t care what happened to it as it did. Probably before the Prison at any rate. What was surprising was the furry skins tied together as a pair of shorts.

  A garment for the size of this creature would be a tent for Fenix. It wore a belt of beaten metal discs, several long necklaces of rocky beads with their own medallions of some kind, and leather bracers studded with bones.

  With its stubby fingers and long black nails, the piggy dark eyes and bald head of pale green skin was a sight to behold. When it raised some stubby digits and drew a glyph of force in the air, Fenix knew they weren’t dealing with any average monster.

  He managed to roll off the tree branch just before the spell went off and blew a large hole through the space he had occupied, along with a significant portion of the tree.

  That had been a powerful result of a single glyph. That a monster of that size and ugliness could also possess the intelligence and power to drive so much from a spell was impressive and dangerous.

  Fenix saw Convenient step out of the bushes underneath a tree on the other side of the remaining wargs who were now zoning in on Fenix. The knight was hidden from the immediate view of the monster and gave a short series of hand signals.

  So he wants me to distract the thing, and the wargs, too. I guess it’ll have to. Fenix interpreted the hand signals quickly enough, memories of their meaning came back readily.

  How and when he had learned them did not, however, but he knew Convenient wasn’t practiced in the grace that usually went with the motions. And how did he determine that? Had someone in his past done it more elegantly?

  There wasn’t time to be musing idly at those random thoughts, so Fenix stepped out of the bush where his tumble from the tree branch had dropped him. An arrow nocked and drawn, he let fly the moment the green-skin saw him.

  The arrowhead described an arc through the forest air. Among the crisp rustle of leaves, the feathers hummed with the speed of their flight on the back of the arrow.

  Another shot for the eyes, always a good starting choice and usually a thoroughly lethal practice to get in to. But this time it was not as easy as it had been with the wargs, the arrow rebounded from a green shimmering in the air that erupted around the monster.

  At the same time, one of the discs on its belt tarnished and blackened, the metal bending slightly amid the acrid odor of burned tin.

  A magical shield, Fenix thought, even as he drew another arrow from the makeshift quiver he had constructed. The bow had power, more than it had started with since he toughened it up from his travels.

  Horn, sinew, bone, and some of the chitin from the creature of the volcanic land mass made it a composite longbow of good draw and power. So the shield this being employed was potent, as surprisingly potent as the first telekinetic blast he had avoided.

  Now he certainly had its attention, he just had to keep it.

  There was some animal anger within those piggy black eyes. The monster hid it well behind a gleam of intelligence, but it was not all stoic rationality. Another arrow flew into sparks and then a second was sent flying at the wargs, who were even now stalking him on the ground.

  The warg he shot at ducked its head with supreme agility, and the arrow caught among the barbs of its strange fur.

  As he had expected, when they could see where it was coming from, they were more than capable of avoiding his shots. Even his superior skills at archery couldn’t stop them dodging the arrows at the last second so it would be a tangle of luck and skill to kill the rest of them.

  Or he could go to his other plan.

  He took the bow in his left hand and put his right one out to the side, with an effort of will
and focused energy he shrouded the hand in blue fire. The flame then elongated and widened, forming a narrow blade of swirling fire encased in an invisible border.

  Bolts of energy could be devastating, but if one wanted to save energy, it was always useful to be able to shape and mold the effect. With his martial skills, it made for effective and quick weapons at any time.

  The warg that attacked him next learned about it the hard way. Its first attack went for the hamstring, to maim or cripple him, a typical tactic of wolves. In a canine this big he would likely have lost both legs to the creature if he hadn’t dodged out of the way in time!

  As his body evaded the warg, Fenix angled the blue blade of flame down and gave a short sudden jab. The magical edge elongated, becoming thinner and with a decided point. It plowed into the warg’s skull, singed hair crisping and crackling, the smell of burning fur escaping, and came out of the lower jaw.

  The warg went limp and dropped to the forest floor while Fenix pranced away. The magical energy slipped out of the cauterized wound like liquid, no need to worry about hard metal and leverage with this skill.

  He noted the women had disappeared. If they were worth anything then perhaps they would return later. But he wouldn’t be surprised if they kept going right off the edge of the land mass. He looked back past the warg’s bodies which swam among the bushes to surround him and saw the giant ogre was still avidly paying attention.

  That it had dominated this pack was clear. As to how, Fenix had a few ideas.

  Not that he needed to employ them, engaging in a dominance contest wasn’t necessary, if Convenient would just get a move on!

  Another warg slipped between two gnarled roots as wide as his torso to snap at him while another came in under a bush to go for his legs. His left hand on his bow flicked two fingers forward from the palm, the bolt of blue fire lancing right through the mouth of the snapping warg and out the other side of its body, just above the tail.

  The lower warg fell to a bill hook of spiked blue fire, shaped down and then sharply angled inward the immensely hot flame easily burned into the cranium of the beast and killed it.

  The giant monster glowered, giving a huff and then a short barked command in a language Fenix had no ear for. The remaining wargs pricked up their ears and stepped back at their master’s command.

  It took a lumbering step forward, one of its stocky, snub-fingered hands groping around inside a pouch attached to its belt of discs. It was about to bring something out when Convenient leaped in from its blind side.

  The steel sword of the old knight flared up, three times its length in white light, and came down in a slash that caused sparks to erupt from the magical shield that protected the monster.

  The large green-skin turned to face the new threat, angling its throw so that the half dozen stone like spheres landed around Convenient. It raised a meaty paw, the grubby fingers wiggled, and Fenix heard it mumble something.

  Green lightning sprang up from the ground, and steam shot out of the damp soil from the explosion of energy blossoming around the old knight.

  The wrangle of lime-colored light merged and drew itself to re-join in the outstretched palm of the monster. It seethed and writhed around Convenient, who was protecting himself. The old man had his sword inverted in both hands, the tip pointed down in a guard stance, the white light of his shield steady and keeping the strokes of green light at bay.

  Where they tore up the earth and went through the plants, they left blackening and rotting destruction in their wake.

  The wargs were uncertain if their master’s distraction meant they should attack the old knight or Fenix, who took advantage of the confusion and, drawing one of his earlier prepared arrows, made a minor exertion of activation magic and spoke the chosen words.

  The arrowhead lit up in sigils of blue fire, his enchantment was still reliable and potent.

  The monster would find its shield less effective against this. Fenix thought to himself.

  Draw, nock, and fire. The arrow arced through the air to drop onto the monster at an angle, especially at a distance a good archer knew how to get the right momentum and aim from any range.

  When the arrowhead hit the magical shell of protection, the enchantment went off, a blue fireball instantaneously expanding.

  The impact was powerful enough to breach the shield, scorching the green skin of the being to a ruddy brown and causing it to cry out in pain. The noise quickly turned to shock as it had to smack its grubby hands at the belt, now on fire, the leather set alight, and the discs superheated from stopping most of Fenix’s magic.

  With the sudden drop in focus, Convenient was freed from the lime energy that had been trying to skewer him.

  Argent fire erupted from the straight, double-edged blade Convenient wielded. But the creature standing seven times his size was about to do something as well. The start of newly formed green tendrils of destructive magic manifested from a fresh evocation.

  Before either of them could make good on the next supremely powerful attack or counterattack the large creature stopped with a dull grunt, an arrow transfixed through its right eye.

  Fenix wasn’t taking any chances, and he didn’t need to expend any more resources on this ill-advised venture to save the hopeless.

  He sighted down another arrow as the big monster turned to fall slowly to one knee. He let fly into its other eye, presented entirely at him when the green-skin came about; whether it had wanted to beg or attack, he didn’t care.

  The arrow buried itself deeper into this eye than the first, perhaps it was part of the bone of the brow or the full frontal angle. Either way, the fletching could be seen sunk up into the socket, and the arrowhead must have hit the back of its skull, cleaving through its brain as it went.

  It was over.

  **

  “So they stayed out of the fight then, heeding good survival instincts?” Convenient facetiously mocked him.

  Fenix smiled grimly, “Or even better ones if they avoided joining in so as not to tip us off to their capabilities.”

  “Oh.” The old knight grimaced. “Yes, of course. Always looking at the bright side of life aren’t you?”

  Fenix just shrugged in response.

  The two men had just finished splitting the Vitae from the desiccated corpse of what had been the green-skin. Each man took the wargs he had killed, and Fenix’s were, of course, more plentiful. Not that they were keeping score. The topic of the four floating women was a good distraction.

  Fenix didn’t have to wonder after them for long, though.

  As if summoned by the mention of their existence, they appeared, floating sedately among the trees.

  “Oh thank you, brave warriors,” spoke the one in the blue dress, her voice soft and lilting sonorously.

  Their faces were all gentle appreciation. The one in the red dress spoke up next, “We are so very grateful to you.”

  It seemed to be the lady in green’s turn. “We arrived here so suddenly, with no memory and no way to leave.”

  Her red hair complemented the blue dress when the first spoke up once more. “It was so strange and foreign to us, we just picked a direction and started off.”

  Fenix’s eyes flicked over to the one in red, her mahogany hair a dash of hue’s across the shoulders of the high cut garment.

  “And then, while we traveled peacefully, they came upon us, those beasts and their strange master. We couldn’t even understand what it said to us.”

  “But we understood its manner and its intentions most thoroughly indeed. So we ran!” Brown hair bordering on chestnut spilled down behind the back of the woman in green.

  The three of them paused, and Fenix got the impression that somehow the silent one in black spoke through the others, as mouthpieces.

  Convenient made a stately bow for the four of them, his scraggly hair falling forward to just about touch the forest floor.

  “We are happy to be of service, m’ladies.”

  “Oooh, such co
urtly manners,” said Blue.

  “A real gentleman, knightly and chivalrous,” chimed in Red.

  Green finished. “We are so very fortunate to find you, with your gentlemanly ways, Sir Knight.”

  Black stayed silent, and Fenix surreptitiously kept an eye on her. No expression at all, but she watched Convenient when the others spoke. The three in colored dresses were a vapid and amorphous group. She seemed the only real individual.

  Then the three turned to face him, all smiles and alluring eyes. He saw in them gratitude and no ounce of spite at all.

  Blue: “And you, a great warrior surely, but we do not recognize your dress at all.”

  “Are you with this knight, a friend, an ally?” That was Red.

  “Could you be ours as well?” Green entreated him, wafting slightly closer, her adoring eyes drawing Fenix in.

  Fenix answered slowly, drawing out the word. “Perhaps.”

  “Before that, ladies, shall we sit and take some rest?” Convenient broke in, immediately drawing the attention of two of them. Fenix found that Green had a wonderfully full bosom and lovely skin showing seductively among the slits in her dress.

  Convenient was still speaking. “I can explain where we are and what this place is.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Blue exclaimed, vigorous energy in the words.

  “We would be so grateful,” Red followed.

  Green’s eyes sparkled with promise, eyeing Fenix up and down. “So very grateful indeed.”

  **

  The setup of a campsite and their gathering around it passed by in a bit of a blur for Fenix, as the three women took turns speaking with him.

  Even with their manner of communicating, it was always one of them who focused attention on him. They were startled by the Prison, its existence and what it represented. That they were criminals was shocking, which Fenix understood.

  Such fey beings, with their lightly pointed ears, would be a strange sight for any law to pass judgment on. But they agreed that they must have done someone wrong to have been sent here. If only their memories had not been erased.