Shard

by Wayne Mee

  'Yes, but then I would die --- and you would lose Shard.'

  'I've already commanded you to explain. Do so!'

  'Shard is now in the hands of a Wee'n, who is far away from here. You hope he will come back once he hears that his precious Wold has been invaded. He may, and he may not. Only a fool would, and I've noted that these little Wee'ns are anything but fools.'

  'Go on.'

  'I can make sure that he DOES come! What's more, I can give you an army that will be unbeatable! I came here to obtain the Wee'ns Black Gold. With weapons forged from it there will be not a country that can stop us! My Slathlanders are the finest troops in all of Oma-Var. Armed with such weapons we can conquer the entire world!'

  Lucfelian laughed inwardly. 'Now I see what you want! It's not your freedom you hunger for, but POWER! And you hope to use ME to obtain it!'

  'I AM you, you fool!', The Voice screamed. 'If I die, you go back to being nothing but a phantom, doomed to live out all eternity as either a formless shadow blown on the wind or trapped inside a dead body, shuffling and drooling your way through the physical world! With ME inside you, you can be all that you ever were and more! When we once again have Shard, both of us can live forever!'

  Lucfelian remained silent, mulling over this 'other's' words. At last he came to a decision.

  'And just how may I regain Shard?'

  'You mean how may 'we' regain Shard, don't you?'

  'It would appear so.'

  'Good!', said The Voice. 'First, we must stay alive. No more foolishly leading every charge. A Wee'n arrow or spear could end all our plans.'

  'Continue.'

  'Second, let my men conduct the war. On the battlefield there is none that can stand against them.'

  'Except my Nar-Graith, Skatha.'

  'That's the third thing. Demote Skatha and give the position of Commander-In-Chief to Nex. My men don't trust foreigners. Ragnol Half-Hand is a shrewd politician but too unskilled in the art of war. Nex, Balar and the rest are masters at it; they wouldn't be alive now if they weren't!'

  The Voice of Alexis V continued. 'Always before, while I made the policy at home, I let THEM decide what tactics to employ in the field. I decided if there was to BE a war, but once the campaign had begun THEY took the decisions on the battleground; THEY led the charges; THEY gathered the glory and fame, while I, as their 'supreme commander' reaped the rewards!'

  'And what of my 'flyers' and my other 'pets' I have sent for?' Lucfelian's inner voice dripped with sarcasm. 'Your great Lord Nex and the others stand before me even now, ready to protest their use. What would the 'all-wise' High Gnash have me do?'

  'Use them,' The Voice mentally shrugged. 'Nex and the others won't like it, but if you demote Skatha and promote Nex; if you let he and the other commanders run the army, you and your beloved Nar-Graith can play with your pets all you want --- I even think that I might enjoy it, providing of course, that you don't get us both killed in the process!'

  Lucfelian grunted and focused his eyes on Nex. The lengthy 'inner exchange' with The Voice had take but a moment of 'real time', though Nex and the others were obviously ill at ease. Lucfelian could smell the fear on them. A mirthless smile played across his harsh features.

  "Lord Nex!", he bellowed. "Stand forward!"

  Nex, the heady swallow of wine he had just taken suddenly pressing painfully on his bladder, stepped forward and struck his clenched fist to his breast.

  "My Liege! I but --- "

  "You but asked how such a monster as the scaly thing perched in yonder tree can possibly help us in running to ground these renegade Wee'ns --- and you were right to do so!"

  Nex couldn't believe his ears! A moment ago he thought for sure that his life was about to come to a swift and unpleasant end!

  Lucfelian, in the body of the High Gnash of Slathland, continued. "I was remiss in not telling you and the rest of my officers my full intentions. I now intend to do so. As of this moment, you, Lord Nex, are my Commander-In-Chief."

  Nex felt his jaw drop open.

  Lucfelian continued. "You may pick the officers you want to assist you, but you are in charge of the Slathland army. The fleet of ships also at your disposal. Lord Skatha will aid me in planning the use of my 'flyers' and all other 'special creatures' that I may yet put into play. These creatures are to be none of your concern, and I will endeavor to make sure that they in no way hinder your own, independent use of the troops. Lord Ragnol will act as liaison between your staff and mine."

  Nex and the other officers looked at each other, hardly able to believe their ears.

  "Also, I will no longer be taking the field myself, nor will Lord Skatha. All decisions will be yours and your staff's. I will, however, from time to time, 'join in the sport', but only as a common soldier --- who, by the way, I believe to be the very backbone of our greatness!'

  Lucfelian waited for someone to speak. None did.

  "Now, if there is nothing else, I suggest that you retire and pick your staff."

  Nex, not knowing what else to do, went down on one knee before his sovereign. "Your Grace!", he stammered.

  "Up, man, and see that all the men get a double ration of ale tonight!" Lucfelian was beginning to enjoy this new role of the 'benevolent dictator'.

  There was a deafening roar from officers and soldiers alike at that last announcement. Nex rose, his massive chest swelling with inner pride.

  As Lucfelian turned to stride back into the Forge, The Voice rang again in his mind.

  'Very good, Shadow-lord, you learn quickly. Nex and the others would now rather die than disappoint us, their foolish sense of 'honour' demands it! And that part about giving them an extra portion of ale was a master stroke!'

  'You think so?', Lucfelian quipped. 'Then you'll be absolutely ecstatic over my next reward. I plan to give each man who brings me the head of a renegade the use of one of your harem sluts for a night.'

  Before The Voice could protest, Lucfelian intoned an ancient spell and slammed shut the door in his mind that had let Alexis V surface. With a smug smile on his face, Lucfelian motioned Skatha to him, already making plans for the use of his 'flyers'.

  ***

  Chapter 44: 'FIRIMAR DRAGONUS'

  "What is THAT?!," Timin squeaked from his position high up in the rigging. He had climbed cautiously up to see if he could recognize any familiar landmarks as they drew nearer and nearer to his beloved Wold. What he saw made him nearly lose his precarious grip.

  "Where?", Roary called up to him.

  "There! High over the trees to the right!"

  The bard shaded his eyes, his harp still cradled lovingly in his arms. Onooga, sitting beside him, followed his stare. When she saw the object that Timin had spotted, a gasp of fear escaped her pretty mouth.

  "What be all the noise about?!", Erin demanded, coming on deck from a brief rest. Nobert, one hand on the tiller, stood squinting into the sunlit sky and shrugged.

  "The little Wee'n's spotted somethin'. Probably just an eagle. He tends to ---"

  "Faith, man! That be no eagle!", Erin barked. "Not with a tail like that! It looks like a flyin' lizard!"

  The others had all joined them on deck just as the 'thing' passed over them. Though still high up, Erin estimated that it was around a dozen vels long --- nearly as long as their ship!

  "Kel, Flynn, get your bows! Thorn, your sling! N' Timin, be haulin' your ass down here right quick!"

  As the crew scrambled to obey, Mithdar came on deck. He glanced at the monstrosity as it banked sharply and began its second pass over them.

  "Sweet Oma!", he muttered.

  "What IS it?!", Onooga yelled, her sword now drawn. "It LOOKS like ---!"

  "A 'Great Worm'," Roary said quietly, a look of wonder on his handsome features. "'Firimar Dragonus Rex', commonly called simply a 'dragon'!" His pale eyes glowed with an inner fire. "I've dreamed n' sang o' them all my life, but I never really thought to see one!"

  Nob stood shaking his grey head. "They're supposed t
o have died off centuries ago!"

  "Well, old fart, THIS one's still alive!", Erin growled. "But not for long! Kel, Flynn, stand ready!"

  "Wait!", Roary yelled. "You can't just kill it! It could be the only one left of its kind! Besides, it may mean us no harm!"

  Erin stared wide-eyed at the bard. "Be ye quiffin' daft, man?!"

  As though to put an end to the dispute, the 'flyer' suddenly folded its great, leathery wings and dove straight at them. So swift was its attack that it was upon them before either Kel or Flynn could loose a shaft. As for Thorn, the little Kirkwean stood rooted to the deck, his sling held limply in his hand, his blue eyes as round as saucers.

  There came a snapping, ripping sound as first the top of the mainmast and then a great portion of the sail was torn away. The creature screamed in triumph and flapped its wings, buffeting those below with a sudden wind as it first carried the piece of ruined mast and sail aloft, gripped tightly in its talons, then dropped them into the river close by the rocking ship. Torn rigging and part of the sail fell over the foredeck.

  "Lear's red rod!", Nobert cursed as he fought the tiller. "There be your answer, laddie-buck! That beastie means to have us all for dinner --- aye!, n' the quiffin' ship as well!"

  "Feather it good, lads, when it makes its next pass!", Erin yelled. "We'll send that 'Great Worm' back to rot with the rest o' its long-dead ancestors!"

  "It is not a 'Great Worm'," Mithdar said calmly. "It's a Dragonus Ri, not a Rex; and a smallish one at that."

  "What do you mean?!", Zoean demanded. "And how can you be so sure?! The last Great Worm was killed hundreds of years ago!"

  "By one of your own kin," Mithdar replied. "And Erin here now wears his armour. I too know the old tales, Zoean. But this is NOT a Rex, for, besides being too small, it didn't use its breath when it attacked. Only a Rex could breathe fire."

  "Perhaps its saving that for the end?!", Timin squeaked. It was the first time he had spoken since he had scrambled down from the now nonexistent crow's nest.

  The creature banked again and came in low for its third pass.

  "Perhaps it is just an illusion?!", Zoean said, her voice higher than usual. "Perhaps Lucfelian conjured it up to guard the river?!"

  "I've little doubt that The Shadow is behind this," Mithdar replied. "But it is definitely NOT an illusion."

  "Fire!", Erin bellowed.

  Both Kel and Flynn bent their bows. Two arrows slammed into the side of the scaly monster as it swept by, only to rebound off its hard hide. Kel managed a second shot at the departing beast, but it too bounced harmlessly off its armored back. With a flick of its serpentine tail the top of the smaller mizzen mast was shattered into kindling. Rope and rigging fell on Thorn, knocking the wind out of him. The ship lurched hard to port and all had to grab rail or rigging to keep their feet.

  "Aim at its head or belly!", Erin yelled as he ran forward, his black shield held ready, Glenrig shining dully in his hand. "The rest o' you see to Thorn 'n clear away that fouled riggin'!"

  Zoean, seeing that he meant to do battle with the monster, turned to Mithdar.

  "Can't you DO something?! Conjure up a counter spell or something!"

  The old mage shook his head. "I'm afraid that such a spell would require a great deal of time and preparation --- still, I will try."

  Zoean took the old man's hand. "Do so, please! He'll get his fool head bitten off if you don't!"

  "You care for him that much?"

  Zoean lifted her head high. "He is only a 'manling', Mithdar, yet I would not see him die needlessly!"

  "Of course, my lady. I'll see what I can do."

  While the others struggled to free Thorn and dump the fallen rigging and sail overboard, Mithdar planted his feet firmly on the rolling deck and raised his staff. Words of harsh power came forth in deep tones as the great beast turned and came hurtling down once again.

  "Near-o-lim rush asrath! Near-o-lim nig vandrake!", Mithdar intoned, his fell voice rising to a shout. There was a smell in the air like rotten eggs, a loud clap of thunder and suddenly a jagged bolt of white light shot skyward from the head of his carven staff. It struck the 'flyer' squarely in its underbelly, causing the creature to give a high-pitched scream as it was knocked sideways.

  "You got it!", Timin cried, his round face alight with joy even as he cradled his winded cousin's head. His delight, however, soon changed to despair as the scaly creature screamed and continued its attack, more enraged than ever by Mithdar's fiery bolt.

  "THAT was a great help!", Zoean yelled, leaping past the mage and drawing her shortsword.

  "It's been some time since I've had to deal with a 'flyer'," Mithdar shrugged. "And this one is far stronger than it should be!" He began to chant another incantation.

  "Near-o-lim rack velum; santar ock dragonus! Elessar Bliss Necro!"

  Just as the creature's gaping jaws were about to snap at Erin, yet another bolt of light streamed forth from the wizard's staff; this one however, was neither white nor jagged, but a broad, continuous band of molten gold that flowed over the entire mid-section of the monster.

  Erin, standing near the bow of the ship, was blown back by the blast. Heat and the smell of burning meat filled the air. The creature's ear-piercing scream of pain rose up above the roar of the continuous flame. Pushed backwards by the wizard's blast, the 'flyer' was forced to veer off. Visibly shaken, it struggled to gain altitude until it vanished into a low bank of clouds.

  All on board began to cheer, save for Roary and the now exhausted mage. Onooga rushed to the old man's side and helped him to sit.

  "Don't fuss so, lass!", Mithdar muttered, though he would have fallen had she not been there to lend her support. "I'm just a bit tired. That last spell always did drain me."

  "But it worked!", she said, grinning at the mage. "The creature's gone!"

  "For now, lass; but I fear not for long."

  "But --- ", Onooga stammered. "That light! The burning! It surely can't survive THAT?!"

  The old man shrugged.

  "Well done, old salt!", Erin said, grinning from ear to ear. "But I'll not be forgettin' that you robbed me o' a chance to 'slay a Great Worm' like the one did whose armour I now wear!"

  Zoean punched him hard on his shoulder.

  "Faith, darlin' girl! What be you hittin' me for?!"

  "Fool!", Zoean shot back. "You could have been killed!"

  "Ock, lass! T'was but an overlarge lizard! Glenrig here could have ended it with one good cut!"

  As she was about to reply, Kel called to them from his place on the foredeck. "It returns!"

  "No!", Onooga cried. "Not AGAIN!"

  The screeching monstrosity, its body scorched and still smoldering, came hurtling at them once more. Gliding low over the water, it struck them from behind, its giant jaws snapping, its enormous talons raking the deck.

  Timin, standing with raised spear over his half-roused cousin, was struck by a leather wing and knocked overboard. Both Onooga and Mithdar were sent sprawling. Nobert had his feet swept out from under him by a flick of the creature's long tail. Roary dove behind the shattered mast as the razor-sharp talons gouged out long grooves in the deck. Zoean, swinging her shortsword as it passed, felt the blade grate on age-old scales.

  Flynn, half way up the shattered mast, screamed out Zoean's name as the monster casually brushed her aside. He let fly an arrow and jumped clear as the creature passed. Then, its head suddenly darting out like an enormous serpent, the 'flyer' caught Flynn's body in mid-air. There followed a muffled cry from the Narthrond, cut off abruptly by a sickening 'crunching' sound.

  A woman screamed. Erin, seeing the flyer swishing by with the now limp body of Flynn gripped in its long mouth, launched himself from the raised foredeck and, with Glenrig held high, brought the black blade down in a tremendous two-handed blow. The keen edge bit deep into the scaly neck. Dark blood spurted, searing Erin's hands where it splattered. The creature's smooth glide became a contorted roll as its speed and tremendous w
eight carried it on past the ship.

  Opening its mouth in a heart-stopping scream, Flynn's limp body dropped out, landing like a rag doll in the water several vels ahead of the ship. Slowly, its wide wings touching the water, the creature righted itself and, flapping wildly, continued on its way, lifting just high enough to clear the trees on a distant hill before it disappeared, black blood still streaming from the long gash in its neck.

  In a moment it was all over. The creature was gone --- and so was Flynn. Zoean, all the colour drained from her face, raced to the railing, her wide eyes searching the water for the Narthrond. There was none. The river had swallowed him.

  "Nob, bring her around into the wind and hold her here! Kel! Roary! Over the side!", Erin yelled, all the while tugging the heavy chain-mail shirt over his head.

  As the sloop came into the wind, her tattered sails luffing, the Chin hit the water in a sleek, clear dive. The bard jumped in after him. Erin grabbed the end of a line and leapt over the railing while the others crowded round. For several frantic moments the three of them dove deep into the dark waters. Then Roary breached the surface tugging something behind him.

  "Quickly! The rope!"

  Erin and Kel swam over and tied the line fast round Flynn's limp form and the body was hauled back on board. Mithdar and a groggy Thorn bent close to the still form.

  "Is he --- dead?", Zoean asked, knowing full well the answer from the great puncture wounds and flow of blood that ran like spilt wine down the length of the deck.

  Straightening, the weary mage took her in his arms, his old eyes misting over. "He is gone, child. His life-force has returned from which it came."

  For a long moment none spoke; then Timin, having managed to scramble up the starboard ladder, sank to his knees beside the dead Nim-Loth and let out a long, high wail.

  "Its not FAIR!", he said through tears and clenched teeth. "Flynn was the best of us! Kind and gentle! All he wanted to do was to see distant lands!"

  The little Kirkwean's shoulders began to shake as dry sobs racked his dripping body. Thorn moved slowly to comfort him but Timin turned away, his gaze following after the now vanished 'flyer'.