Villains by Necessity (v1.1)

by Eve Forward

  The raven was frozen in fear as the fingers held almost too tightly to its feathered neck.

  Sam saw her expression change, from livid rage, to fear and livid rage, and smiled nastily.

  “One false move, sorceress, and your familiar gets it,” he whispered. She glared at him in fury but said nothing.

  Without taking his gaze off his deadly captive, Sam said, “Good job, Arcie. Have a care now and don’t let it go. If she moves, rip the blasted crow’s head off.” The raven gurgled in terror.

  Sam shifted the point of his dagger and pushed aside a corner of the Nathauan’s collar. There, like a hole into nothingness against white skin, gleamed the stone.

  Valeriana gasped in fear, panic and anger and started to speak, but a muffled croak from her raven froze her again. With the point of his weapon, Sam hooked the heavy gold chain that held the pendant and lifted it free of her neck. It revolved slowly in the sun, the gold frame glinting in the light, but the black stone was featureless as a midnight lake. Sam glanced from it to the sorceress.

  “This must be quite important to you. You take off all your other jewelry when you sleep, to keep it from marring your fair skin, but not this heavy thing. You hide it under your gown that hides nothing else. And you reach involuntarily for it in moments of stress ... just a twitch, perhaps, but it’s there. You said you had means of wielding power in a world lost to Light... could this perhaps be it?” Sam’s hand jerked the dagger up, snapping the chain and sending the pendant hurtling into the air. With a shriek Valeriana lunged for it, her panicky strength breaking Sam’s grasp. But Sam was quicker. He leaped up to the side and caught the stone neatly in his palm. As Valeriana sprang, teeth bared, he raised it over a boulder, preparing to smash it. She stopped dead. At the same instant, Nightshade gave a strangled gurgle as Arcie’s fingers closed on its throat. The peril of her familiar and the loss of her amulet were too much for the sorceress. She turned and collapsed onto the grass, shoulders shaking, with anger or tears, they couldn’t tell.

  After a tense moment, Sam and Arcie looked at each other. Arcie’s fingers slowly relaxed, and the raven gave what might have been a sigh of relief. Kaylana, unhurried, ever collected, stepped down into the hollow leading Sam’s and Valeriana’s horses. She handed their reins to Sam, who took them in embarrassed silence; Damazcus wiped his nose on Sam’s shoulder. Kaylana stepped softly over to the huddled figure of Valeriana.

  As the Druid approached, Valeriana whirled on her, her hood falling away. She cringed in the sunlight, her sensitive eyes squinting tight, but her voice was strong and proud.

  “All right then, you’ve won! Kill me now, as I would have killed you! You’ll die in the end yourselves when the Light overflows.”

  Kaylana spoke. “We will not kill you.” She looked at Sam and Arcie as she said this, and somehow they had a feeling it would be as she said. “To do so is to build our own coffin. The Light threatens us all equally. The rest of us will not kill a one ... but nor will one of us rule the rest. Bear that in mind, Sorceress.” She glanced over at where Sam was holding the horses and amulet, then back to Valeriana, who was replacing her hood, her arms already reddening from the sun. “Valeriana, is what Sam suspects true, do you draw your power from that amulet?”

  “Yes,” muttered Valeriana. “As you may have guessed, it’s a Darkportal. The last one I know of. Very small. Very weak. But enough.”

  “And,” pressed Kaylana, “can you do magic without the amulet in your possession?”

  “No,” said Valeriana weakly. “Without it I’m as helpless as a child.”

  Kaylana sighed. “You are lying,” she said resignedly.

  “All right, all right! Your powers outfathom mine without my Darkportal. I can do some magic, so long as the amulet is nearby ... I am weakened, yes, but I can still manage.” Valeriana, hood restored, stood up, brushing the grass and dirt off her skirt. Kaylana nodded, satisfied.

  Sam spoke up. “I vote we keep the amulet hostage, to prevent the lady from attempting to command us with fear again. That way she can still serve our mutual cause, yet not be so great a threat to us.”

  Arcie nodded, and Kaylana did the same. Valeriana gave in with bad grace.

  “All right then, I’ll accept. Let Nightshade go.”

  Kaylana nodded to Arcie, who took his hands away and pulled the cloth net off the bird. Nightshade fluffed his feathers and glared at Arcie. Suddenly, his thick black beak lashed out, lightning-fast, slashing the Barigan on the back of his hand. Arcie swore. Smugly, the raven flew back to Valeriana’s shoulder and began to preen.

  Kaylana looked around the party.

  “Very well. We must be under new leadership, then; that of necessity. Though our motives may be different... “ she looked pointedly at them all “... as I know they are, the end result... the restoration of darkness to its place in the world ... is our common goal. Valeriana has told us of a way in which this goal may be achieved. We have no other way known to us. I say we shall continue on. Any opposed?”

  Not a hand was raised. Kaylana nodded.

  “As I hoped. We move on.”

  “So where are we going, then?” Sam asked.

  Valeriana swung up into her saddle again. “Well, obviously the knowledge of the Gypsies was of little help. To find the locations of the segments of the Key, we must seek different help. Even the Heroes themselves do not know the true locations ... the sections of the Key were hidden by the gods themselves.”

  “Well, then, there’s not much we can do, is there?” scoffed Arcie.

  “Not quite, you impudent thief. If it is gods that have hid it, it is gods we must ask.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” cried Sam. “Gods? Any gods that would even notice us would turn us into slugs sooner than look at us. All the gods that ever might have been on our side are long gone.”

  “Not all,” said Valeriana mysteriously.

  When they stopped that evening, Sam took out the amulet and inspected it. He’d carried it in his pouch, not really trusting the strange stone from which Valeriana drew her power; Sam felt sure she’d wreak fearsome vengeance upon him if she recovered it. He turned the amulet by its edge in his fingers. The back was flat and resembled a mirror of hematite. He caught his own eye looking back at him from within it and was startled by the cold predatory viciousness he saw there. He flipped the stone back to face him. The dark cabochon intrigued him. He picked up a twig and poked it. It didn’t seem to touch any surface, just gave a vague resistance like one feels when touching opposite ends of a lodestone to each other, until he couldn’t press the twig any farther and it snapped. A cautious prod with a finger revealed much the same sensation, only as his finger encountered greater resistance he felt a chill, like an icy wind.

  Arcie was coming up behind him, Sam noted with mild interest. Sneaking up on his fat booted feet, going to talk right in my ear and see if he can make me jump.

  “Be you having fun, Sam?”

  Sam didn’t twitch. After a finely judged moment he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Yes indeed, half-pint. How goes it?”

  Arcie, only mildly disappointed at not having been able to make Sam jump, plopped down on the turf across from him, and pulled out his pipe.

  “You’ve been here,” he said. “What do you think, then? Are this an adventure or no?”

  “It’s certainly different.” Sam palmed the amulet and tucked it inside one of his secret pouches. “Cut off from my past, thrust out into hostile wilderness with a couple of weird women and a thief, camping out at night, tromping around under blazing sun all day ... I can still feel it on my face.”

  Arcie peered at his face a moment. “Looks to me as you got sunburned.”

  “Oh great,” muttered Sam. “An assassin with freckles and a peeling nose.”

  “No one will suspect you, at least,” Arcie pointed out.

  Sam nodded. Arcie went on.

  “But see you, we should travel by night. Dark times for dark busi
ness, as they says. No sun to bother Valeriana or you, Kaylana’s surely is no’ disadvantaged, and I know I work better in darkness. Anybody looking for us will have a harder time of it. Besides, marching in daylight is for the heroes. If we’re going to do this, we may as well go all out.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” agreed Sam. “Especially as it hasn’t been getting very dark at night lately anyway.”

  “You noticed that too?” asked Arcie. “I thought that were odd ... something with the weather?”

  “Maybe ...” replied Sam doubtfully. “Or something with the world.”

  The decision was reached to travel by night. As time was pressing (or so Valeriana implied), they broke camp after just a short rest and rode on into the odd dim twilight.

  It was nearly dawn when they started into the far edge of the Windarm Mountains. Only a minor range, fortunately, and the party’s path had intersected at a pass.

  They started up into the rocky foothills, searching for a secure place to rest, for they were now very weary. As they walked their mounts into a narrow side canyon, they met their first great challenge.

  It began as a slow reek as of rotting flowers that drifted through the air, making their horses stamp with nervousness.

  Kaylana’s stag pranced with anxiety, and she had to lean along its neck in an attempt to calm it. Meanwhile, the others glanced around uneasily for the source of the distress.

  The canyon was long and twisty, but narrow, a floodwater outlet that had been formed long ago. A faint breeze echoed around them. Polished pink stone curved in strange shapes from the rippled walls, and the sky was a pale strip of slowly brightening light overhead, and the changing light sent shifting shadows through the canyon.

  The ground was perfectly level and covered with fine gravel that crunched under the animals’ hooves.

  “This place doesn’t half willie me,” whispered Arcie.

  “Can’t we go back?”

  “This is the only pass through these mountains for two weeks’ journey, Barigan,” retorted Valeriana, her voice tense.

  Just then, one of the oddly shaped rock formations opened a huge golden eye and then jerked itself up on a long serpentine neck. A fang-filled mouth cracked open, glowing flame, and a shrill piercing trumpet of a voice cried, “Villains!”

  Sam was aware of an explosion of animal panic underneath him, and then he was flying through the air. He landed on his feet with a jarring crunch in the gravel and spun to see his horse bolting out of the valley, hotly followed by another horse, a pony, and a stag. His companions were getting to their feet, their faces masks of shock-the faces of people facing certain death.

  It was a dragon, just as the legends told of them: golden eyed, gaping mouth filled with sword-long teeth, breath a flickering flame of fire, and, as it heaved itself over the outcropping, great folded bat wings, vicious curved claws, a huge bulk of a body and a long lashing tail. It was a soft faded-rose color, necked with gray and gold, like the very walls of the canyon. It drew in a deep breath.

  The group scattered, lunging for the safety of the sculptured walls as a blast of flame blew two inches of gravel off the ground where they had stood and melted the rock beneath. Sam rolled to a halt behind the comparative shelter of a large boulder and winced as shards of superheated gravel clattered around him. A few feet over, crouched in an overhang, was Kaylana.

  Valeriana and Arcie found themselves pressed into the space behind a whorled stone column. The dragon screeched again.

  “Villains! Come out and fight, you nasty people!”

  Arcie looked up at Valeriana in puzzlement.

  “Dragon of Light,” she whispered. “If only I had my amulet!”

  “Can’t you do something?” hissed Arcie, wincing as the dragon’s heavy feet came nearer. “We can’t get out through the canyon without it flaming us!”

  Valeriana snarled to herself and pulled out a few items from her pouch. Hoping her amulet hadn’t gone far, or worse, been destroyed, she gathered together her concentration, softly chanting, then thrust her head around the corner of rock and with a final harsh word threw a bolt of black fire at the creature’s huge pink stomach. It hit with a flash. The dragon roared, more in anger than in pain, and flame washed over their hiding place.

  The moment was all Sam needed. A thin paper pouch of dust arced through the air and burst open on the dragon’s muzzle. The dragon blinked, sneezed, then began pawing at its eyes and nose furiously and lashing about wildly with its tail. Kaylana gave the assassin a startled look. He was hefting a dagger. “Blinding and sneezing powder,” he whispered, “only thing I had enough of. Won’t last long.” So saying, he hurled the dagger. It flashed in the air, spinning madly, missed the dragon’s thrashing head by an inch, rebounded off the far wall, and thunked instead into the fine pink membrane of a wing. He cursed as the dragon roared and leaped out of shelter again to try another throw. The dragon, hearing the crunch of his feet on the gravel, lashed out furiously with a taloned paw. Sam dodged the claws, but the reptile’s palm smacked him off his feet, sending him crashing into a pile of loaf-sized stones, where he lay stunned.

  Arcie, meanwhile, was creeping up the canyon wall with surprising ease. From this raised vantage point, he swung at the dragon with his morning-star, thinking as he did so that he was being extremely foolish and would have been better off staying at home. The blow caught the blinded dragon a nice clip on the side of the face, and the creature’s head whipped around, its muzzle crashing into the stone wall. The jarring blow shook the Barigan from his perch, causing him to lose his weapon, and dropped him neatly onto the top of the dragon’s head, just behind the horns. He had only a second to reflect on the novelty of this when the dragon tossed its head violently.

  He slid, scrambled, and ended up hanging from one of the great fan-like ears, clutching the leathery skin as the dragon shook its head, trying to rid itself of the effects of the powder and the weight of the fat thief on its delicate ear.

  Kaylana gripped her staff and smashed at the dragon’s hind toes, the only part of it she could reach. The staff missed, smacking into the gravel, as the dragon lifted its foot to change position. Kaylana struck again, but her aim was off, and the staff crashed into one of the diamond-hard talons. The resulting ringing shook Kaylana’s teeth and the staff trembled, but the dragon yelped as a bruise flowered under the nail. The dragon’s foot kicked as its head whipped down to deal with this sneak attack. Kaylana sprang away, wooden shield raised in defense.

  Valeriana, meanwhile, was edging over to where Sam lay motionless. If she could recover her amulet from the fool’s body... but suddenly something heavy hit her between the shoulder blades, and she went down like a poleaxed hippogriff. Arcie made a mental note to thank the sorceress later for breaking his fall. He jumped to his feet and staggered-one of his ankles seemed to be sprained, or broken.

  The dragon at last sneezed flame prodigiously and opened its eyes, red and streaming, but focused. Seeing the only threats still standing were a young woman and an unarmed Barigan, he opened his gaping jaws wide to flame and bite and tear the dreadful creatures of evil that had disturbed his peaceful nap ... when the sound of hoofbeats made him freeze in surprise. Kaylana and Arcie turned, and even Sam and Valeriana managed to raise their dazed heads.

  Walking calmly into the battlefield was a large, glossy black warhorse. Its great hooves crunched the gravel, sounding loud in the now-silent canyon. Dark plate and chain barding glittered and rang, echoing the armor of its rider-a tall, massively built figure, encased from head to toe in black plate armor. It, a man, likely, by build and armor, looked neither right nor left, but faced the dragon. He wore a black-plumed full helmet, with the visor down. No chink of flesh or fold of clothing showed anywhere. At his side hung a huge black-hiked sword.

  One arm held a solid black shield on which there was no device. The other hand held a lance, raised, tattered black pennant flapping in the wind. The dragon hissed.

  The four companions
scrambled out of the way as the great horse snorted and pawed the ground, and the dragon growled, visibly unnerved. It shrilled out in a trumpet voice.

  “Who is this dark knight in black armor, who dares to challenge me?”

  Slowly the lance lowered, until it pointed at the dragon’s chest. The only sound was the faint creaking of the knight’s armor. The warhorse snorted and stomped, like a bull. The dragon was visibly unnerved. He had met villains and wicked fighters before; he, Lumathix the Rose-Gold and his kin were the dragons of Goodness and Light and had fought in the War against the creatures of Darkness. And all those creatures were full of curses and wicked words, or the occasional plea for mercy. But the small villains that had awakened him, and this newcomer, did neither. He decided to get it over with and not worry about it.

  “Die, spawn of darkness! Feel the wrath of Lumathix!” he roared shrilly and blasted out a tongue of flame.

  The knight’s horse turned broadside to the fire as the knight raised his shield. The center of the cone of fire struck the shield and spread out and away, leaving rider and horse unharmed. In a moment the stream stopped, and the dragon was left staring at an undamaged knight on horseback with a smoking shield, who was now turning to face him, that nasty looking sharp lance pointed at his soft underbelly. Wordlessly, the knight-his lance lowered and couched-clapped his heels to his horse, and the animal lunged forward eagerly into a galloping charge.

  Lumathix squeaked faintly. He was too large to turn around in the narrow canyon, too bulky to fly straight up, and far too heavy to jump. He turned to meet the attack in true dragon offensive, with teeth and claws and fire. He was so intent upon the charging knight he didn’t see the other villains moving to either side of him.

  As the dragon lunged to meet the knight’s charge, pain seared at his foreleg, as three poisoned daggers, in rapid succession, sunk into the tender, delicate skin below his armpit. Simultaneously, a pebble struck his shoulder and exploded, bruising him. Another followed, and another, ordinary stones enchanted by Valeriana and fired with professional accuracy by Arcie’s pocket-sling. Kaylana struck the ground with her staff and called out a phrase of power, coaxing the very nature of the rocks themselves, and the gravel on which the dragon footed his lunge turned to shallow, slippery mud. He toppled forward, roaring, as the knight reached him. The knight with his horse at full gallop splashed into the mud, dodged a claw swipe with a sideways swerve, and slammed the shield up into the face of a ferocious bite, crashing sparks from the dragon’s mouth and sending a tooth chip flying. The blow knocked the knight’s aim off, however, and the lance, instead of plunging into its heart, drove deep into the dragon’s uninjured foreleg and snapped. The knight then drew the huge sword, but Lumathix had had enough. Battered, bruised, limping on both legs and his beautiful rosy scales all covered in mud, he scrambled around the knight and down to the exit of the canyon, a last lash of his tail barely missing the knight. They heard his heavy clawing feet scuttling down the passageway and then heard heavy wingbeats as the dragon took to the air. All was tense for a moment, as they feared it would appear over the canyon to roast them, but the sound died away in the distance. The four adventurers turned to look at their unlikely rescuer.