The Last Swordmage (the swordmage trilogy)

by Martin Hengst

  Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, slowly at first, then violently. “No. No, Sir. That's impossible.”

  Royce's smile was humorless.

  “Few things are impossible, little one. Most are merely improbable.”

  “But,” she blanched as she looked at him. “But the Xarundi are a myth. They're a ghost story that mothers tell their children to make sure they are home before dusk. This isn't possible.”

  “Have you ever considered, little one, that maybe every myth has a grain of truth?”

  “But,” she said again. Her mouth worked silently for a moment before she finally gave up and pressed her lips together in a thin white line.

  Royce sympathized with her. It wasn't an easy thing to learn that the nightmares you had as a child were suddenly coming true. If this was a Xarundi attack, and he couldn't see how it could be the result of anything else, it was the first since his childhood. Since his father had been the Captain and he just a little boy tagging along to learn what it meant to be the most powerful fighter in the Imperium.

  He remembered the first day that he learned that monsters were real and he felt a strong sense of remorse that he was the cause of that end of innocence in the girl. Still, better that she learn now, while he could protect her, then later when he couldn't.

  Torus sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a massive calloused hand.

  “I was really hoping you'd have better news for me, Captain.”

  Brushing his fingers in the dirt to scour off the thin film of blood, Royce stood and brushed his hands together, as if the gesture could not only remove the dirt but also the memory of what they had seen.

  “I don't like it either, Torus. There are troubling questions here.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke. “First, why this village? What was its importance? Second, why now? Why come out of hiding after thirty years? Finally, what do they want? And more importantly, how do we stop them?”

  Torus shook his head, his face a grave mask of anxiety.

  “I don't know. I do know that the King needs to know about this right away. I'll ride for Dragonfell immediately.”

  “We'll go with you.”

  Torus shook his head slowly.

  “I'd welcome your company, Captain. I would. But the girl…”

  “The girl,” Royce said firmly, “is under my care and protection. Where I go, she goes.”

  For a moment, Royce was certain that Torus would decide that he didn't need the company after all. He hadn't trained a fool though. He knew that Torus would want his input when they briefed the King. Although slaves weren't well tolerated in the capital city, Royce was confident in his ability to diffuse any unpleasantness that might arise.

  “Alright,” Torus said finally. “But you might want to warn her first. She's not apt to receive a warm welcome.”

  Royce motioned for Tiadaria to follow him and stepped downwind, away from the bodies.

  “Torus is blunt, but he’s right. If we go to Dragonfell, it’s not going to be easy on you. Slaves aren't welcome in the King's backyard. There are likely to be those who loudly call for your removal from the city. Some of them might even try to do it themselves. Even so, I would be there to protect you. I offer you the choice, we go or we stay…but either one we do together.”

  The girl regarded him for a moment and Royce returned her gaze evenly. He could almost see the thoughts tumbling about in her head and he urged her in his thoughts to stand up to the challenge. He thought she would. She didn't back down from a fight easily.

  “We go. I've heard stories about Dragonfell. If the stories about the Xarundi are true, I want to see how many about the King's palace are. Besides, how many slaves can boast of an audience with the King?”

  Royce snorted. “Not many at that, little one. It’s not going to be fun and games. It’s going to be a long journey and a rough landing at the end. You're up for that?”

  She paused only a moment before she replied and Royce respected her calm dignified answer. “As long as you're with me, Sir, I'm up for anything.”

  “Then we ride for Dragonfell.”

  * * *

  Tiadaria had no idea what had possessed her to agree to such madness. It was well after dark when they finally called a halt to their first day's travel. Her bottom and legs were sore from the hard ride. They had pushed the horses as far as they thought they safely could. All she wanted to do now was curl up in a ball and go to sleep, but the horses needed to be rubbed down and a meal needed to be cooked. These duties, obviously, fell to her.

  As she stirred a thin travel stew in a pot that Torus had provided from his saddlebags, she pondered exactly what had come over her to agree to such a foolhardy journey. In a few weeks, the fire of her resistance had died down to embers. Every now and again those embers would flare up and she would remember her indignation at being bought and sold, but for the most part, she served the Captain because it was comfortable and pleased her to do so, not because it was expected of her.

  He treated her well and kindly. The only times he was harsh with her were the times, during training, when she wasn't paying attention or was being intentionally obstinate. He had taught her many things about fighting with swords and staves. He claimed that she was helping keep his reflexes sharp and he seemed to genuinely enjoy the practice. However, she had noticed him taking a swig off the flask he kept tucked in his belt all too often.

  She had tried to ignore that, but she had found much to her growing chagrin, that she would miss him if something were to happen to him. He wasn't just the man who had purchased her anymore. She was the man who had saved her from execution because he thought she could be more. That kernel of knowledge, which she had denied so vehemently at the outset of their relationship, had grown into a strong, sinewy vine of grudging trust.

  She finished with the stew and served both men first, then herself. She sat down on a log to eat, and then settled into the grass when she found that the log was far too hard and unyielding to sit on with her sores. They ate in silence, every one of them too tired to do more than gulp down the soup and spread out a bedroll.

  As she spread out the thin blanket she kept under her saddle, the Captain approached her from around the fire. Torus was already rolled on his side, his back to the banked warmth of the embers, snoring softly. The Captain hunkered down beside her and motioned to her blanket.

  “Lay down, little one. On your stomach.”

  Tiadaria's stomach dropped suddenly. Was he really going to take her here? In the open, under the stars, with another man a rock's throw away? Tia knew that it was his right, but in the weeks that she had been his, he had never taken a single action that lead her to believe that he thought about her in that way.

  Her mouth suddenly dry and empty of words to say, Tia silently did what he commanded. She lowered herself to the blanket and pillowed her head on her arms. She was his property, she reminded herself bitterly. She should be happy that he had waited this long. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she was proud that they were as silent as her mouth, slipping out of the corners unnoticed by the Captain.

  His deft fingers undid her belt and he laid it slowly aside. His careful, plodding movements almost enraged her. She wanted to scream at him to finish, to do what he needed to do and stop tormenting her, but she couldn't bring herself to make a sound. She couldn't help but tense, however, when his thick fingers slipped into the waistband of her breeches and pulled them down, exposing her bottom to the cool night air.

  The Captain reached across her back, snapping a long leaf off a bush there. Tiadaria watched him out of the corner of one watering eye. He took the leaf and squeezed a thick, clear sap from the broken end, coating his fingers with it. Then he gently spread the sap on the worst of her sores. Instantly, Tiadaria sighed with relief. The pain of the broken skin subsided rapidly and before she knew it, the Captain had pulled her breeches back up and covered her with the nape of the blanket.

  He knelt down by her head, showin
g her the bruised end of the leaf that he had used to ease her suffering.

  “Remember this plant, little one. You rode long and hard and well today, and you earned those sores you have. Don't think I don't know how much they hurt. I've had them myself from time to time. But the sap of this plant will set you right.”

  He paused then, a thick finger reaching out to trace the track of a tear, still glistening in the firelight.

  “I'm sorry, Sir,” she whispered, a new tear rolling out of the corner of her eye. “I thought-”

  Tiadaria saw the pained look flicker across his face and in that moment, she hated herself for being the cause of his pain. The tears came in earnest now, her sobs threatening to wake Torus.

  “I know what you thought, little one.” He laid his hand on her head and the shock of their mutual connection coursed through her.

  Over weeks of training, she had come to be able to ignore the sensation for the most part, only noticing it when it was particularly sudden or unexpected. The bond-shock made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her spine tingle with anticipation. This wasn't the pain she was used to, but rather a pain-pleasure that made her ache all over.

  “You are lovely in every way, little one, but I can't do that. If that ever changes, I promise you that I'll tell you first.”

  “I am yours, Sir.” She looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from her tears. Their eyes locked and in that moment, Tiadaria realized that she really was his.

  The collar was incidental. She was his property, true, but her desire to leave had been replaced by an equally strong desire to serve him and to learn everything that he could teach her. To be with him for as long as he had and to comfort him when his time was drawing to a close.

  “I know,” the Captain said softly. “And I will ever be yours, but not that way. I think I told you that once before.”

  Tiadaria smiled then, remembering their first encounter on the road to the cottage, how he had knocked the feet out from under her and sent her sprawling in the dirt. If only she had known then what she knew now.

  “Yes, Sir,” she sighed. “I believe you did.”

  “Get some sleep, little one. Our days are going to be long and difficult for a while and you're going to need it.”

  With that, he turned from her and went to his own blanket, rolling away from her and sharing the warmth of the fire with Torus. Tiadaria listened to their discordant snoring for a long time before she, too, finally slept.

  Chapter 10 — The Mountain

  Royce reined his stallion in and brought it into step with Tiadaria’s gelding. The journey had been long and tedious, but she had acquitted herself of it without complaint. Every evening she would care for the horses and make whatever meal was to be prepared for that day.

  Then she would serve them before she served herself. In the morning she would scrub the small pot and on more than one occasion, she had gathered fresh berries to help break their fast. If there had been any question in Royce’s mind about her suitability as his successor, no doubt remained. She conducted herself with the poise and grace of a highborn lady, though the collar would forever deny her those privileges.

  “We’re nearly there, little one.” Royce smiled at her sigh of relief. She quickly composed her features into an impassive mask, but he understood how she felt. The trip had been longer than he would have liked as well. “Trust me, the descent into Dragonfell will be worth everything you’ve gone through.”

  She snorted and he shook his head. The gentle gait of the horse’s walk required no thought or effort on his part and he easily slipped into the past. He could still remember, vividly, the first time his father had brought him to Dragonfell. He wondered if the girl would feel the same sense of awe and wonder as he had. He had been younger and his journey had been much shorter. He hoped that their time on the road wouldn’t diminish her enjoyment of the experience.

  The rough road pitched upward and they began the steep climb to the top of the last ridge they would encounter before they reached the city. Once they crested the ridge, they would be able to look down into the valley and see the grandeur of Dragonfell laid out before them.

  It was said that the Imperium of Man was founded on the backs of the last dragons. The legend went that three brothers, each declaring themselves to be King, would have a contest of sport. Each brother would attempt to find and slay a fierce dragon. Whoever killed the fiercest beast and lived to tell the tale would be the One True King of the Imperium and all of mankind.

  The first brother went south to the elven forests, where he found and did battle with a cruel green dragon. The beast was huge and cunning, and the brother was certain that his triumph over the creature would place him in the throne as the One True King. Four three days and nights, they battled each other, slipping in and out of the trees and around the wooden city of Aldstock where the elves held their High Court.

  The elves turned on the human intruder, for killing any creature of the wood, even a vile and vicious dragon, was forbidden. Beset on two sides, the brother fought valiantly to defeat the dragon and the elven king. After a time, he managed to put them both down and brought not only the dragon’s head, but the elven king’s bow back to the village.

  The second brother went west, to the lands of the dwarves in their high mountain holds. He had heard stories of a terrible red dragon that terrorized the mountain folk and demanded sacrifices to prevent his unholy wrath. The brother wandered the mountains for days without seeing the dragon. The dwarves were unwilling to help. They knew it would be their hide that would be flayed if the brother failed and the dragon learned who had betrayed him.

  Finally, weary and ready to turn back and admit his failure, the second brother quite literally stumbled into a crevasse and found the giant red beast. His search above had been in vain, for he found the creature guarding a single crimson egg, its shell gleaming brightly in the semi-darkness of the fissure. A fierce battle ensued, for the dragon was fighting not only for its own life, but for the life of its offspring as well.

  No amount of battle could save the dragon, and the second brother emerged victorious, striking a killing blow through the heart of the great beast. Rather than take its head, he took the malevolently shining egg back to the village where he met with the first brother. They each boasted of their accomplishments, showing off their treasures as signs of their prowess and worthiness to be king.

  Many weeks passed, and the two brothers began to worry, for they had not heard from the third brother, who had set off for lands far to the east. He had traveled so far, it was said, that he had sent back letters with his trusty falcon telling the people of his village of all the wondrous things he had seen on his journey and enjoining them to await his triumphant return.

  Still more weeks passed and the two brothers were all but certain of their sibling’s demise. They went to the village elders and told them that if their brother did not send word of his safety, or reappear, within the fortnight, that they would have no choice but to declare him dead and proceed to determine who would be king without him.

  On the third night after this meeting, the third brother’s falcon arrived in the town with a map tied to its leg. There was a single line scrawled at the bottom of the map: “Your king waits.”

  The brothers were furious at such audacity. That their brother had declared himself king without winning the contest angered them deeply. They gathered the elders of the village and every man who could carry a sword and they set out on the long journey to follow the map that their brother had sent. It took them nearly three weeks to complete the trip, at least coming to a high ridge that was marked on their guide. The very ridge that Royce was climbing now.

  As the brothers crossed the ridge, they stared down into a green, fertile valley, bounded on the east by the sea and on the other three sides by high ridges and stony cliffs. Laid out in the center of the valley was the largest black dragon any of them had ever seen. The third brother stood tall for a man and
still was half the height of the giant head that lay dead in the middle of the field.

  As his siblings approached, the third brother spread his arms wide and welcomed them, smiling. “Come,” he said. “Tell me of your triumphs and treasures as I share mine with you.” Together, the three men walked toward the mouth of a huge cavern set in the northern wall of the protected valley.

  The third brother was awed by their stories and congratulated them heartily on their accomplishments. They reached the cavern and the third brother bowed deeply, smiling with pleasure at his brothers’ stunned silence. The cavern was a demesne truly fit for a dragon. It was deeper than they could see and had many tiers both above and below the main level that were stuffed with all manner of treasure, mystical and mundane.

  “This, my brothers, is my legacy. We shall bring all of mankind here, and we will make them safe within these walls. We will work the valley and hillsides and we will make an empire for ourselves. This is my vision, as your One True King.”

  The brothers were unable to argue. Their brother had the strength to rule and had killed the most massive dragon anyone had ever seen in testament to that strength. He had the foresight to rule, as he had already planned out how and where to united the scattered tribes of men. The two other brothers fell to their knees, bowing deeply and proclaiming their kin to be the One True King.

  Royce wondered how much the valley had changed since the time that the three brothers had ruled over the Imperium. The One True King on his throne and the brothers acting as his advisors. Certainly the dragon still kept watch over them all, for its skull was perched on the mountainside, overlooking the facade of the cavern-city. They were nearing the pinnacle of the ridge now and he turned in his saddle to watch Tiadaria expectantly.

  As the horses crested the ridge, the girl’s face went from boredom to incredulous delight in the blink of an eye. She gripped the reins so tightly that her horse came to a stop in the middle of the path. She gazed down in rapt wonder at the valley below.