by Jim Galford
Raising the tip of the sword over her head, Liris added, “Let’s see if you are worth all the trouble. You’ve already lasted longer than most. Give me a challenge, beast.”
Raeln dearly wanted to delay, to watch the woman for clues as to how she tended to fight, the little indicators that made it easier to adapt to a new foe. With Estin bleeding badly nearby, he knew he could not stall even a few seconds. He had to end this and tend to Estin.
Cautiously, Raeln stepped in and made a test swing at Liris. His blade had barely made it halfway before she chopped down at his arm, forcing him to counter or lose his hand. He only just barely managed to get his weapon in the way of her strike, the flaming sword warming his weapon as they clashed. Sweeping his weapon across his body to defend against additional attacks, Raeln backed away quickly.
“Clumsy and slow,” chided Liris as she backed away, bringing her weapon back to the same position she had used initially. Raeln could tell she was stalling, trying to get around him to strike at Estin. “Those who taught me have fought children who showed more talent.”
Raeln ignored her, recognizing her game for what it was. She hoped to rile him, to make him slipup. He wanted to tell her if nearly killing his friends had not driven him to sloppiness, teasing about his skill with a sword never would. Instead, he shifted to a new stance, giving himself a little more leeway to defend against her speed, now that he had a better feel for how she might strike. The first stance had been a common one among swordsmen in Lantonne, but this one was from somewhere farther south, taught to him by a man his father had hired.
“That stance is meant for someone with two weapons, you imbecile,” Liris noted, smiling at him. “You only prove my point about your skill. The Irandi fight with twin short-spears. Using that with a single broken sword is pointless.”
Trying to slip in while she was talking, Raeln slashed at her, using his momentum to turn quickly. As Liris had said, the stance was meant for him to follow up with attacks from a dagger or other offhand weapon…though, like the other wildlings, he was never without weapons. He came around, Liris smiling as she ignored his free hand, right up until the moment his claws ripped a goodly portion of her face off.
Stumbling away, Liris’s weapon flickered and nearly vanished as she put a hand to her broken face. It took her only a second to begin laughing, lowering her hand as the gashes closed, and Raeln watched her ruptured eye reform completely. “Enough playing around, dog,” she snapped, raising her weapon again. Without hesitation, she rushed at Raeln.
The two of them clashed, narrowly blocking one another’s attacks and dancing across their end of the ravine, locked in a battle Raeln knew would only end when he made a mistake. After all he had been through, after all he had seen, he would die in a swordfight. If that was how it had to be, he was happy to die fighting and intended to hold the woman at bay for as long as he could. Greth would be proud to see him fighting right up to the end.
Parrying and striking, Raeln held his ground, trading blows evenly with Liris. Soon his weapon had grown painfully hot to the touch, burning through his pads and steaming in the cold air, but he had little choice but to keep fighting. He inched backward as he fought, trying to find Estin with his foot in hopes of grabbing Estin’s weapons, which still lay on the ground somewhere nearby. He slid his foot back one more time and ran into something furry—either a wolf or Estin’s tail, he could not be certain which.
Raeln tried to glance down while maintaining his defense, but Liris was too fast. The moment he lowered his eyes, Liris kicked Raeln, knocking him over backward. He crashed to the ground alongside Estin, his sword flying. In a mad scramble, Raeln tried to find Estin’s weapons, but they lay too far away for him to reach. Looking back up, he found Liris stood over him, her flaming weapon ready over her head.
“You made me work for this. I will give you that. Beg me…beg for your life, wolf,” she told him, raising her sword a little higher.
Raeln looked around for anything that might help him, whether that was one of his companions or even a rock he could defend himself with. What he saw instead was Feanne, halfway across the battlefield, walking toward him with a calm anger that radiated from her, somehow parting the battle. Nothing was willing to remain in her path, wolf or Turessian.
Her cloak had fallen forward to cover her body and she still had her hood up, but something about Feanne terrified Raeln. From within her hood, a deep throaty growl emanated, growing louder with each second. A dim green glow appeared where her eyes should have been under the hood. This was no magic he had ever heard of or wanted to encounter. Judging by the way the dire wolves scattered from her, they had much the same feeling.
Raeln looked over at Estin and saw the snow all around him was stained red with blood. If he still lived, Raeln could not be sure, but he was certain Feanne could see his wounds clearly, and the blood would have been visible from anywhere in the ravine. To anyone glancing at him, the natural assumption was that he was already dead.
“Get it over with. I’m not going to beg,” Raeln said, returning his attention to Liris.
Without a word, Liris swung the sword at Raeln. Instinctively he put up his arms to block it, knowing all too well the magical weapon would likely cut right through and kill him anyway. Pain exploded across his left arm and a loud pop went off, making the whole area smell like smoke as his arm went numb.
Opening his eyes nervously, Raeln saw Liris lying on her back nearby, trying to stand. Her weapon was gone and her whole body smoked ominously. She managed to prop herself up on one arm and then fell over.
Raeln started to stand, but dizziness nearly knocked him back down. He looked at his arm and saw a long gash across his forearm that ended at the bracelet he wore. There the cut ended and the fur around the bracelet was burned and the skin blistered. Somehow the silver bracelet was not even scratched, though a small puff of what looked like mists hung over the spot where the bracelet had been struck. At that thought he looked up to the sky and saw the mists there had closed in, circling over the ravine. There was nowhere left to run.
The wound, bracelet, and glowing mists were immediately forgotten as Raeln realized Feanne had almost reached them and whatever was happening with her had accelerated. As she approached, the cloak could no longer hide her long legs and had begun to slide off her shoulders. Her legs had always been long for her height, but now they were longer than Raeln’s and her large paws made audible thumps as they came down. She stood a foot taller than Raeln and seemed to be growing as he watched. The green light her eyes emitted before was bright now, illuminating her face and accentuating the rage that covered her features. In shock and fear, Raeln found himself unable to move, hoping he was far enough outside her path.
Feanne was enormous, standing almost ten feet tall as she straightened up, muscles all over her body twitching with readiness. Her clothing was nearly destroyed from the change, with shreds hanging here and there. Whereas Feanne had always kept her claws sharp, now they were several inches long and could have torn through an armored warrior from the look of them. Her bared fangs were no less intimidating, longer than Yoska’s knives. With different fur patterning, she would have reminded Raeln of a giant werewolf, but he had no idea what to make of a ten foot fox wildling that appeared ready to face down an army by herself.
With a roar of anger, Feanne stomped one foot, lowering her face to glare at Liris, who had sat back up and, Raeln thought, looked as confused and startled as he did. Then, to Raeln’s horror, Feanne turned that same furious stare on him, spreading her fingers wide in preparation of gutting someone. She had not decided who, yet.
Raeln struggled to understand what he was seeing and then realized he lay on one side of Estin’s prone body and Liris lay on the other. Whatever had happened to Feanne could well have been clouding her thoughts, making her unsure which of them had attacked him. As a last resort, Raeln raised his hands in surrender and lowered his eyes to the ground, hoping that would be enough to turn her e
yes away from him. Greth had told him sometimes the better part of valor when dealing with wildlings was to know when to appear harmless, and this certainly seemed the right time for that.
Turning her head slowly between Raeln and Liris, Feanne raised herself up to her full height and let out a howl that made Raeln’s legs shake and every animal instinct in him scream to run. Whatever she had become, even his body’s basest reactions knew to flee from her. Something primal stirred in him, shrieking in the back of his mind and pleading with him to scurry for cover. Those instincts warned him that today he was prey.
“Feanne—” Raeln said, but suddenly Feanne swung her arm, backhanding him with all the force of a tumbling boulder. He left the ground, smashed into the wall of the ravine, and collapsed. He fought to think clearly as his head pounded and his back ached from the impact.
From where Raeln lay, he could see Feanne had dismissed him as no longer a threat, moving on to Liris. The woman appeared torn between her usual cocky lack of concern and utter horror at the enormous foxlike beast that came up on her. Liris backed away slowly on the ground while Feanne followed, her enormous paws crushing smaller stones with each step.
“Biggest damned lycanthrope I’ve ever met,” whispered Liris, giving Feanne a fake smile. “You don’t understand a thing I’m saying, do you, you fuzzy bastard? Raging mindless animal…”
Rolling to her feet, Liris tried to scramble out of Feanne’s reach, but she underestimated the length of Feanne’s arms. She made it several feet before Feanne slammed her flat to the ground, and then picked her up and held her with one hand that covered half of her torso.
“I…” Liris managed to squeak out before Feanne slammed her into the ground again. A second later Feanne repeated the motion, breaking Liris’s back.
With another roar, Feanne let loose, tearing at Liris with her claws, shredding the woman and leaving little more than a bloody heap. That she threw at the far wall of the ravine hard enough that when Liris’s remains hit, part of the wall collapsed, burying the body.
Sniffing the air and growling, Feanne turned back to Raeln, baring her teeth as she walked toward him. Apparently, he had not been submissive enough.
Raeln fought the pain from his last run-in with Feanne and got up, trying not to look any weaker than he already felt. She watched him as he moved, ready to attack him if he made any quick motions, but she instead turned her attention to Estin, who had yet to move. Feanne gave Raeln one more warning glance before walking over to Estin’s side.
Kneeling, Feanne reached for Estin but hesitated with her claws inches from him, seemingly understanding she might hurt him more by trying to help. Softly at first, she began howling a keening cry to whatever might listen, hunkering down over Estin to shield him from the few snowflakes that fell. Raeln knew well enough that she would protect him from anyone who tried to come over, whether or not they were trying to save him.
Fighting his bruised body’s desire to fall, Raeln limped out of the section of the ravine where they had been, trying to get a better view of the rest of the battle. The others had not even fared as well as he and Estin.
All of the wolves were dead or had fled, leaving only Yoska and Dalania to fight against eight Turessians. Given the odds, Raeln was not surprised to find Dalania on her knees in front of three of the council members, trying to slow bleeding from several large wounds, while the nearest Turessian shouted something at her. Yoska was lying on his back near the rest of the council, with one of the women kicking him repeatedly and a Turessian man near her slowly extracting Yoska’s knife from his throat.
Reaching down, Raeln picked up Estin’s swords, intending to charge back into battle. If he was very lucky, Dalania might be able to sneak away during the chaos. Even that he guessed was asking too much of himself as his left arm shook, the loss of blood from the cut and burns there making it difficult to hold the sword.
“Drop your weapons!” shouted one of the Turessian men, noticing Raeln. “There doesn’t need to be any more death here! Surrender and we will treat you no worse than any other slave. Fight and we will crush you.”
Raeln heard Feanne’s wails trail off and turn into a growl. Whether she knew he was a friend or not, he smiled as he heard her stand up and saw the faces of the Turessians drop. Every single one of them was staring past him, having forgotten Yoska and Dalania. Even if Feanne came after Raeln, he intended to run at the Turessians to make them think she was working with him. It might give him a small chance of saving someone, anyone.
Increasing his pace toward the Turessians, Raeln raised the swords and shouted a battle cry, praying it would be enough to break their morale. Though two of the men began backing away, one woman kept her head and quickly weaved a spell, snaring Raeln’s arms. It felt like a rope had been wrapped about his body, constricting as it dragged him down, forcing him to his knees.
Raeln looked back, hoping Feanne was going to go on past him, but as he turned, Feanne flew across the ravine and slammed into the far wall, away from the Turessians. She hung there, held off the ground by magic she clawed at ineffectually, trying to break free.
“So full of surprises!” exclaimed Liris, sliding out of the rubble where she had landed. She kept one hand held toward Feanne, letting Raeln know who was maintaining the spell. If he could get to her and break her concentration, there was still a chance Feanne could turn the tide of the fight. That would require freeing himself, though.
Walking to the middle of the battlefield with a limp, Liris surveyed the broken remains of the wolves before going over to the council members. She scowled at those still nursing wounds of their own and then went over to Yoska. Bending down, she checked his neck for a pulse with her free hand. Nodding, she moved next to Dalania.
For a moment Raeln thought Liris was going to help Dalania up, but instead she punched Dalania, smashing her nose and knocking her to the ground.
“Hundreds of years of this nonsense,” Liris said, sounding as though she was finally stepping past the point of madness, keeping her left hand aimed at Feanne as she approached Raeln. “Hundreds! Do you even comprehend how long that is? I’ve lived so very long…maybe a thousand generations of your kind…but even I haven’t had to deal with this degree of nuisance very often. All of this foolishness because of three words. Black and white…black and white…I have heard nothing but that ridiculous prophecy since Dorralt came to me. He has obsessed about it and it is that stupid phrase that led me to you and Estin.”
Turning to the council members, Liris told them, “Declare the prophecy void. Declare it false.”
The eight men and women gave each other significant looks but kept quiet.
“Declare it!” screamed Liris madly. With her free hand, she motioned toward Estin. “The man of black and white lies dying over there. I’ve killed the rest like him and scattered anything else that might fit the prophecy. It is over. Declare it so that we can go home and put aside two thousand years of superstition that began with that idiot, Turess! I want to leave before those mists come down here!”
Starting with one woman, the council members one at a time began nodding in agreement.
“Do you think that is enough?” snapped Liris, her face red with rage. “Call out to our master. Tell him it is over! What more do I need to do…rip his head off? If that is what you need as proof…”
Liris walked past Raeln, passing close enough that he could have grabbed her, were it not for the spell still holding him. He strained until his bleeding arm went numb again, but he could not free any part of his body from the pressing weight of the spell.
Coming up beside Estin, Liris put her boot to his throat, slowly crushing his neck as she watched the council’s reactions. “I will give you all a keepsake of the last so-called man of black and white,” she announced, grinning. “Make the declaration that Turess lied. That he was a failure. He was a madman spouting nonsense about two colors.”
The clearing of a single throat off to one end of the ravine seeme
d to echo louder than any amount of Liris’s screaming. Every face in the ravine turned toward that sound.
“Rithast liroph dineinne,” said a man somewhere behind Raeln.
Straining against the magical ropes, Raeln only barely managed to turn enough to see another Turessian standing at the entrance to the tomb, dressed in oversized white cottons of the style On’esquin had brought with him from Jnodin. Over that, he wore part of On’esquin’s black robe as a mantle, belted to keep it from slipping off his far smaller frame. Raeln was willing to bet that even the belt was On’esquin’s, as it appeared to have been wrapped around the human twice.
“What the hells is this?” demanded Liris, looking between the council members for some explanation. “Does anyone speak old Turessian? I didn’t get a word of that. Anyone? Surely someone bothered to learn the old tongue? Be quick!”
Groaning and sitting up, Yoska wiped at a wide swath of blood on his brow and sighed. “One of us speaks old Turessian. Maybe next time you ask nicely before the beatings, yes? The crazy old gypsy man knows things that crazy old dead people forgot to take time to learn, no?”
Raeln laughed as Liris’s face twitched with fury. Somehow she managed to keep her hold on Feanne, though she took her boot off of Estin and quickly walked toward Yoska.
“What did he say, gypsy?”
Yoska gave the council members nearest him an angry glance and rolled onto his hands and knees to stand.
“I want an answer, not you standing up to fight again!” Liris yelled, kicking him down again. “Answer or I break off pieces of your body for sport!”
Laughing, Yoska sat back down and said, “He says you defile the honor of your clans. Literally, he says, ‘The clans of you are dishonored by actions.’ There may be more to it, but is best I can translate. Some of the more subtle parts of old language is beyond me.”
Liris looked back at the robed man, who stood patiently by the tomb, casually studying each person in the valley. Slowly her eyes widened and she blinked, staring intently at his clothing. “Black and white,” she mumbled, stumbling toward the man, her arm nearly dropping. “He meant a wildling. Dorralt swore that Turess meant a wildling!” Then, turning to the council, she screamed, “Kill him! I want to know who he is after his remains are at my feet! The one who brings his head to me will have Dorralt’s blessings!”
