“Bomar,” he said. Drake tensed. “Where?”
He pointed west. “Through those trees, about a quarter a mile from here.”
Drake marveled that he could hear them from so far away. “What should we do?” “You should do nothing,” he replied. “Wait here.”
Before Drake could protest, Maliel raced soundlessly into the thick of the forest and vanished in the blink of an eye. Drake moved over beside Lenora and waited, all the while channeling mana into his weapon. Bomar fought often with blades, though Maliel had said that in large numbers they used what from the description sounded like normal firearms. Either way, they wouldn’t be ready for a P37.
After what felt like an eternity, Maliel returned. His face was contorted with rage and his hands were balled into fists.
“They have four of my people held captive,” he said. “They are…hurting them.” Drake placed his hand on Maliel’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“No. I need to free them.” “How many Bomar are there?”
“Ten that I could see. I could not get close enough to be certain.”
Drake looked over to Lenora. He couldn’t leave her alone. And he had no intention of taking her along. “How are they armed?”
“I could not tell. Swords and knives, at least.” “I’ll do it. You stay with Lenora.”
“I cannot let you go alone,” he protested.
“One of us is staying behind,” he shot back. “Which one of us is your choice. But I’m the one with a weapon.”
“What’s going on?”
Drake groaned, then looked over to see Lenora groggily rubbing her eyes.
“The Bomar,” said Maliel. “There’s a group of them not far from here. They are holding four of my people.”
She sat bolt upright.
“I was just about to go free them,” said Drake, sounding as if it were nothing more dangerous than a stroll in the forest.
“Not without me,” she insisted. “There’re only ten men,” he said.
She let out a scolding huff. “Only ten? Are you trying to get killed?”
“No. I’m trying to keep you from getting killed. Besides, ten men with swords isn’t much of a challenge. Not for the Captain of the Royal Guard.” He gave a wry grin, holding up his P37.
“Do not underestimate the Bomar,” Maliel warned. “They are as cunning as they are brutal.”
“Which is precisely why you will not be going alone,” added Lenora. “And as I am a princess of Vale, and you are not, I will make the decision regarding who goes and who stays.”
He had seen this look in her eyes before. She would not be swayed. “You know I love you. But you are the most stubborn woman I have ever known. Fine. But I want you to stay far behind me. Don’t do anything until I say so.”
Lenora smiled. “I knew you would see things my way.” She turned to Maliel. “Don’t worry.
We’ll save your people.”
Maliel bowed his head. “Thank you. Though I do agree that you should stay clear of the danger. If you are lost, with you is lost any hope for us to rid ourselves of the Bomar.”
“I promise not to do anything foolish,” she said. “Though I can’t say the same for Drake.
He’s known to be a bit reckless from time to time.”
Drake rolled his eyes and snorted. “Only when I have to chase after you.”
Maliel explained the layout of the camp, drawing a map with a stick. The Nelwyn were being held in the center, surrounded by five men. The others were further back guarding the perimeter.
“And you’re sure that’s all there is?” asked Drake. “No. There could be more.”
“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
Maliel led them into the forest and up a steep rise. It was slow going at first as their eyes adjusted to the utter darkness. Drake stumbled several times, bruising both elbows in the process. Lenora was just behind him, though was much more agile and only tripped once, and even then was able to keep her feet.
Drake caught the scent of a campfire a few minutes before hearing the raucous laughter of the Bomar soldiers.
Maliel halted and pointed to their left. “You can see them from there,” he whispered.
“Stay with Lenora.” He gave her a stern look when she started to object. “No arguments…Your Highness.” He reached out and took her hand, softening his tone. “Please. Just stay here. If I get into any trouble, you’ll know.”
Reluctantly, she nodded, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Be careful.” “I’m always careful,” he replied, feigning offence. “You know that.”
Drake ducked low and made his way to a pair of spindly bushes from where Maliel had indicated he could get the best vantage point. Beyond, the ground sloped gently down to a clearing where the Bomar were camped. Just as Maliel had said, five men were on the outer perimeter, though they were not standing at attention, but rather sitting lazily on the ground, wearing bored expressions. The remaining five were sitting around a fire near the four Nelwyn, wo were bound hand and foot, their faces battered and their leather clothing torn and stained with blood.
The Bomar were clad in hard leather armor with steel studs embedded along the shoulders and collar. Their pants looked to be fashioned from thick brown wool, and each wore a pair of low-cut boots. At their sides hung long heavy swords – twice as long as his own. What struck him the most was their faces. At least three sported thick wiry beards trimmed to a sharp point, a style
not in fashion in Vale. Some were dark in complexion, others a bit paler, but all looked weather- worn and haggard. One thing was certain: they were clearly human.
“How long we keeping this lot alive?” called one of the outer guards. His voice was deeper than his light frame suggested. “It’s been three days. I’m ready to get back.”
“Shut your mouth,” barked a broad-shouldered man with dark wavy hair, sitting nearest the fire. “We’ll go when I say we go.”
“You really think there’s more about?” asked a soldier sitting to his right. “Maybe. Something’s got them stirred up. Otherwise we wouldn’t be out here.”
“A few more hours under the whip should get it out of them,” suggested the first soldier. “Any more and there won’t be nothing left of them,” the leader replied, casting a malicious
grin at his captives.
The Nelwyn did not move a muscle, their eyes downcast as their captors took apparent joy in their pain. The sight infuriated Drake. He had witnessed all manner of cruelty in his life as both a Royal Guard and a Hawker, and it had always stirred his anger. But usually he could ignore it. After all, he couldn’t do anything to stop human nature. But there was a part of him that had always thought cruelty and savagery were created by hardship and hopelessness. He dearly wanted to believe that people were good at heart. Yet here was proof that he was lying to himself. Perhaps humans were nothing more than beasts after all.
Drake quickly assessed the situation. Pointing his P37 at the leader, he focused his concentration. The heat in his chest was a momentary distraction; he hadn’t used his weapon for any reason other than to start a fire in more than a week. Three shots. That should be all he needed. His fingers hovered over the trigger, poised to release his fury on these vile men.
The blow to the back of his head sent him falling hard just as the mana streaked from the barrel. Drake rolled, instinctively swinging his arm around. Above him stood a Nelwyn, holding a short wooden club in one hand, face twisted into a murderous snarl.
A cacophony of high-pitched whistles and feral shouts erupted from every direction. The Nelwyn raised his arm for another blow, but Drake let off a quick shot. The ball of green light struck his attacker in the upper chest. This staggered him, but for only a brief second. Drake scrambled to his feet, leaning back to avoid another blow. He pointed his P37 for a more powerful shot, but the Nelwyn thrust out with his club, dislodging the weapon from his hand.
Drake sidestepped another attack, countering with a crush
ing punch to the jaw that sent his foe to the ground. Drake did not hesitate, and straddling his chest, let loose two more well-placed blows that sent the Nelwyn into unconsciousness.
He leapt up and turned to the camp. The Bomar were back to back, weapons drawn and fighting off at least twenty Nelwyn fighters. Some carried long daggers, while others had similar crude weapons to the one his attacker had used. He found his P37 lying on the ground a few feet away. His heart sank as he realized the club had badly damaged it, rendering it useless.
Why didn’t I bring my sword? Cursing his stupidity, he raced back in the direction of where he had left Maliel and Lenora. But before he made it more than a few steps, the sudden appearance of blue bolts of mana off to his right told him that they were no longer there.
They had moved to a position within a few feet of the outer perimeter, and Lenora was picking off the soldiers one at a time. The fighting stopped for a moment, both human and Nelwyn alike stunned by the attack.
The soldiers, despite their surprise, quickly realized their peril and turned to face the new threat. Seven men still remained unhurt. Their leader barked the ordered to advance, and with
primal yells, they charged at Lenora as one tight formation. Had the situation not been so dire, Drake would have laughed. What would seem prudent in overcoming an enemy with inferior numbers made it all too easy for Lenora to finish them off with a single spell.
Her arms flew wide, her face a mask of deadly intent. Twin orbs of fire sprang into existence and then streaked toward the soldiers, spinning and spitting out tiny flames. Each flame that struck the ground turned into a thin string that wriggled its way skyward. Even if they had managed to avoid the orbs, the Bomars’ way was now barred by a gantlet of death. None did. The spell collided into the center of the charge, instantly consuming them. Screams of pain and terror tore through the air as the soldiers flailed about, some running blindly, others rolling in a vain attempt to save themselves.
The Nelwyn attackers had yet to renew their assault, as they looked on in stunned amazement. Even Maliel, who had seen what Lenora’s magic could do, was slack jawed and wide eyed. After a minute, the cries went silent, and the pungent odor of burning flesh stung Drake’s nose. Four Nelwyn had been killed during the attack. At a glance, Drake could see there were roughly a dozen alive…including the one who had broken his weapon.
Drake hurried over to Lenora, who gave him a sad-eyed nod. It occurred to him that this very well might have been the first time she had killed.
“I told you I should come,” she said, forcing a fragile smile.
Drake gave a grim chuckle. “And you were right, as always. Are you all right?” “I’m fine.” When he did not look away, she added. “Really. I’m fine.”
The Nelwyn were grouping together a few yards away, protectively surrounding their captive brethren as they cut their bonds, muttering to one another with pensive expressions. At least they had not attacked. But that could change in an instant.
“Maliel,” called Drake.
Maliel stepped forward and held up his hands. “These are friends. There is no reason to fear. They come to us in peace.”
A short, thin woman wearing a blue vest and black shirt and trousers, carrying a long, serrated knife in one hand, stepped away from the others. “Why do you address us in their language?”
“They are here as friends and allies,” he explained. “It would be discourteous to do otherwise.”
She had the same sharp features as Maliel, only a touch broader in the face and with hair that draped to her shoulders in tight black curls. “I know you. Maliel. You are thought to be dead. Tell me how you are here.”
“The tale is long,” he replied. “And I think it best we leave before more Bomar come.” She looked over to Drake and Lenora. “From what I see here, more Bomar have come.” “Though they look similar, they are not Bomar,” said Maliel. “Do not rush to judgment.
Please. We are camped not far away. I can explain there.”
“Then go and collect your things,” she replied, still eyeing Drake and Lenora. “Our camp is safer.”
Maliel nodded. “As you wish.”
“I think we might have a problem here,” whispered Drake. Lenora took his hand. “It will be all right. You’ll see.”
Drake’s apprehension was reinforced by the look of deep consternation on Maliel’s face. The unconscious Nelwyn was attended to, and once able to walk, they started back to their camp. Drake did not speak a word, thinking it best to allow Maliel to take the lead. It was obvious they
doubted their fellow Nelwyn’s assertion. And as Drake was unarmed and the Nelwyn’s resistance to magic left them without a way to defend themselves, he could only hope that Maliel would be able to persuade his kinfolk to listen to their proposal.
Upon arrival, the Nelwyn confiscated their packs, searching them first, Drake assumed as a precaution – one he would have likely taken himself. They took particular interest in his sword, whispering to one another as they examined the blade. Likely they sensed that the steel was infused with mana. Though he did not protest at its confiscation, Drake was not about to lose it permanently.
“Be careful with that,” he said, trying to modulate his tone to contain enough insistence to let them know he was serious, but not so much as to sound aggressive.
“Prove yourself a friend and you will have it back,” said an older male Nelwyn, who was strapping it across his back. “Though I would like to know where you acquired it.”
“All questions will be answered soon enough,” Maliel interjected.
They started out north at a quick pace through a densely wooded stretch of forest and continued for more than an hour before turning slightly west over a series of shallow rises which ended into a rocky trail that sloped up sharply. After a short but difficult climb, the trees thinned until they found themselves in a clearing at the apex. A few folded blankets had been scattered around a burned pile of sticks, and the scent of charcoal suggested the fire had only recently been doused. Apparently they travel light, thought Drake.
The Nelwyn he had incapacitated during the fight had walked close behind him the entire way, and was now squatting directly opposite, glaring angrily – or at least Drake thought he looked angry. It was hard to tell. Drake groaned inwardly. Hurt pride was always a problem. And they sure as hell didn’t need to make an already tenuous situation more difficult.
Maliel gestured for them to sit on the grass, taking a spot beside Lenora. The other Nelwyn sat across in a semi-circle.
“I am Kyloria,” said the dark haired woman who had spoken earlier. “Tell me why I should not trust my own eyes; why I should think your companions anything other than Bomar.”
Maliel proceeded to explain who Drake and Lenora were and why they had come; how he had been found by Exodus and nursed back to health, and of the bargain he hoped to make with his people on their behalf.
Kyloria looked noticeably interested when he spoke of aggressive forms of magic. When Maliel was finished, she fixed her gaze on Lenora. “Assuming I believe my kin, I still have doubts.”
“You saw yourself what she did to the Bomar,” said Maliel. “Is that not enough?”
“The Bomar have sent people into our midst before, claiming to reject their ways, vowing to help us. They have all proven false. Why should I believe this one to be any different?”
“I am not one of them,” said Lenora, her voice clear and commanding. “I am precisely who Maliel told you I am. It is true that I have my own motives. But I serve the people of Vale. They are the reason I am here. Until today, I have never seen the Bomar.”
“And now that you have?” asked Kyloria. “They are like you, yes? Human. They are not Nelwyn. Why would you fight them? I think it is more likely you would join them.”
Lenora took a deep breath. “It is true. They are human, like me. Or at least they look to be. So I understand your concerns. All I can say is that I am here to offer my help in exchange for yours.
Whether or not the Bomar are human does not matter to me. They have nothing I want. You do.”
Kyloria leaned her elbows on her knees. “You would have us defeat your enemies, in exchange for the power to defeat our own. I must admit it is an intriguing proposition. Things have not gone well of late. We think the Bomar are readying for a mass incursion. There is already talk of retreat to the northern mountains. And rumors that they are crafting a new weapon, one that will end our people in one fell swoop.”
“Then you must allow her to help us,” Maliel insisted.
“You know I cannot make that decision. Admittedly, I am tempted to believe her story.
But desperation can cloud reason. And we have become desperate.”
“It’s no wonder,” Drake chipped in. “You attacked ten men carrying swords with clubs and knives.”
Kyloria frowned. “What should we have done? Allowed them to torture four of our people to death? We have few weapons with which to fight. We use what we have.”
“They lured you there,” said Drake. “Anyone could see that. It was a trap. Had we not come, they would have killed the lot of you.”
“How do you know this?” she demanded.
“Why else would they keep your people alive? They must have figured there were more of you and counted on a rescue attempt.”
“It seems you understand their tactics quite well,” she remarked suspiciously.
“It’s not that hard to figure out. I’ve used it myself, though not in the same way. I’m surprised you were caught so easily.”
Beyond The Vale Page 2
