Shard

by Wayne Mee

  Onooga lowered her blade, stepped up beside Zoean and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Both women were silent as Erin rushed towards his death.

  Not far away Lucfelian and the remains of his hoard also stood watching. Out of the corner of his eye Ragnol saw that Nex had just joined them. The two men glanced at each other, their mutual hatred at least partially set aside for the moment.

  Nex spoke first. "That's the bloody slave from our first expedition!"

  Ragnol's tone was sweetly condescending. "Very observant of you, Nex. Such intelligence should be rewarded. Perhaps a command position --- if there's anything left to command!"

  Before Nex could think of a cutting reply, the gathered crowd cheered, causing Nex to tear his eyes away from the hated 'foreigner' to the doubly-hated 'slave'. The Great Worm had just blasted the onrushing figure with a wave of fiery breath. Nex felt the heat on his battered face. For several heartbeats the entire roof and upper story was engulfed in smoke and flame. Nex dimly saw the two archers duck down behind the ruined chimney. Then one of them, tall and Nimish-looking, his clothes all aflame, jumped off into the mill-pond.

  The cheering continued, then faltered suddenly, giving way to startled groans. Slathlander and Brakarn alike saw a charging figure emerge from the flames and bring his longsword down on the outstretched neck of the Great Worm! Twice the black blade struck, each time the razor-sharp edge cut deep. Yellowish blood sprayed all about as scale and horn-like skin parted. A third time Erin struck, calling on the ancient gods of his mother's race to aid him --- yet still the hoary hide would not yield!

  Then, mustering the last of it's strength, Lucfelian's creature swiveled it's partially severed neck and snapped at Erin. The weaponsman pulled away just as the yellow fangs closed together, but in pulling away his battered body overbalanced and he fell. Glenrig slipped from his hand. Lucfelian's minions cheered again, while close by the mill pond Zoean gave a startled cry.

  "The bastard's done for now!", Nex gloated. Ragnol, however, remained silent, his eyes never leaving the man who had once been his slave. A group of Brakarns surged forward, eager to be closer to the kill. The front line of Slathers also moved forward, though more cautiously. A junior officer came to Nex for orders, but was cursed royally and told to go and 'do his duty!'.

  Then a small figure was seen on the roof. Something in his hand blazed as he rushed passed the fallen warrior and darted under the gaping jaws of the dragon. The blazing light moved swiftly beneath the creature's gore-spattered throat. A great roar went up from the monster as it tried frantically to get away from this 'thing' that attacked it. Screeching, it pushed itself away from the building, its leathern wings beating uselessly at its side. Then, just as the first rays of the rising sun cleared the horizon, the monster's severed head fell onto the roof. For several heartbeats the rest of the body hung there, then slowly slide to the ground, where it lay in a tangled, headless heap.

  Thorn stood breathing heavily. Shard, still in his trembling hand, dripped gore, pulsing with an inner life of its own. The small Kirkwean turned to help his friend.

  "Well met, Wanderer!", Erin grinned. "Though this day you be Wanderer n' Watcher both!"

  "I but gave the finishing stroke, Erin. It was your strength that led the way."

  "Aye, lad, but your cut that finished it! Come! Give me your hand!"

  The two of them stood together, the dawning light shining brightly on their upturned faces, while down below Lucfelian's army stood awestruck in the shadows, their gaze shifting from the headless body of the Dragonus Rex to the two warriors that slew it.

  ***

  Chapter 61:COMES A TIME

  Just as the sun struck the two forms atop the Forge, the sound of Nim-Lothian trumpets and Delgi war-horns filled the cool, crisp air. All eyes strained towards the Western Gate. The sight that greeted them brought joy to the hearts of the defenders --- and struck terror into the hearts of their enemies! Arthdain and Dingle had arrived.

  Their combined forces swept down the broad plain and smashed into the rear of Lucfelian's startled troops. So forcefully did the rescuing army strike that the invaders had no time to organized a defense. Within moments the battle became a route, with both Slathers and Brakarns fleeing for their lives. Nim-Lothian horsemen and Delgii on stout, mountain ponies seemed to be everywhere, and soon the besieged Forge was surrounded by friends instead of foes.

  Still, it was Gluck and a group of his Wild Men who, materializing out of the tall pines, first reached Mithdar and Zoean at the mill-pond. Ringing the small party round in a protective circle of flint weapons, they brought the wizard and the rest of his startled group back up to the front of the Forge.

  There a welcome sight awaited them, for, sitting astride a dappled stallion, was Arthdain Ithilian, his silver armour reflecting the early morning sun, a smile of happiness framing by his golden, shoulder-length hair.

  Beside him sat the old veteran, Dinn Otheral, his usual scowl now replaced by a wide grin. Behind them both Nim and Delgii crowded close, panting yet pleased with their morning's toil. Among the Nim were Zoean's old suitor, Bar Gildar and the blond giant, Cal Gwailith, Erin's carefree drinking companion.

  Arthdain dismounted and Zoean ran to greet him. Hugging him in a way that she had not done in years, she allowed the tears at last to flow. "I had almost given up hope that you would arrive in time!"

  The tall Nim prince returned his sister's embrace, and then held her firmly at arms length. His tone was mockingly stern. "So, my little wayward sister! There comes a time when even you are glade to see me? Good! Long I've waited for this day, for my heart has been empty since you left."

  Brother and sister embraced once more and then she suddenly turned away, her moist eyes seeking the entrance to the Forge. Even as she looked, the massive doors swung wide and out stepped the battle-scarred forms of Bramblethorn Higgs and Erin Ap Conn.

  The 'Wanderer' and the 'Watcher' had survived.

  Zoean ran to the soot-blackened weaponsman and threw herself into his arms. Bar Gildar stiffened in the saddle, all his secret hopes of winning back Zoean's affection suddenly melting away like morning mist. Beside Gildar, Dinn Otheral frowned, grunting out his displeasure at such undignified behavior from one of the Royal House. Brash as ever, Cal Gwailith, seeing the old veteran's frown, laughed loudly and placed a massive arm on Otheral's shoulders.

  "Be at ease, old friend!", he grinned. "The manling's already been declared Arthdain's 'shield-mate', so why not his sister as a 'bed-mate'?!" The blond giant leaned closer and gave the old warrior a good-natured slap on the back. "Besides, now that he'll be otherwise occupied, the manling won't be needing to visit the Daughters of Quent --- leaving all the more for you and I, eh?!"

  Otheral gave Gwailith a look that would have withered any other being, yet the good-natured giant just laughed it off and called out to Erin: "Raven! Save some for me"!

  Zoean, still clinging to the weapons-man, raised her head proudly and made a rude gesture in Gwailith's direction, much to the chagrin of the already frowning Otheral. Just then Dingle and a group of Delgii rode up on their lathered mounts.

  "Mythdarian!", Dingle bellowed, taking in at a glance the group gathered before the Forge. His gaze lingered on Thorn for just a moment, then returned to the wizard. "Glad I am to see you still alive, Mythdarian! Doubly so as I have great need of a mage just now!"

  Mithdar stepped forward. Though still dripping wet from his fall into the pond, he none-the-less retained his air of authority. "I am here, Dingle. What news of Lucfelian?"

  The red-bearded Delgi snapped up the front of his war mask and dismounted. Cynwulf, still covered in the yellowish blood of the dragon, was there to help him.

  "It is about the Evil One that I seek your aid. Some of my lads saw him and a group of his followers quit the field soon after the battle was joined. They gave chase and caught most of them before they could reach the tree-village. Many died on both sides."

  "And Lucfelian?",
Mithdar asked, already fearing the answer.

  Dingle shook his head. "They lost him somewhere in those great pines." The Delgi leader pulled himself up to his full height and looked Mithdar straight in the eyes. "My lads wanted to go in after him, but I called them back. We Delgii are sword and axe trained warriors. Show us a man or a beast and we'll fight it gladly! But against sorcery and the black arts we are ill prepared, and I'll not have my lads die without a fighting chance!"

  "And so you have come to me," Mithdar said quietly, looking up at the giant trees with their vast network of bridges, walkways and interconnecting branches. There were well over a hundred houses in the Kirkwean tree-village and Lucfelian could be hiding in any one of them.

  Mithdar sighed. "You have done well, Dingle. And you, my lord Arthdain. All of you have done well! The invaders have been routed and those that have survived are probably even now on their way back to their boats. The task of following them I leave in your capable hands. As for the finding of Lucfelian and the few that remain with him, I myself shall see to that!"

  With a look of relief on his bearded face, Dingle bowed to the mage and, remounting his pony, called out his orders to Cynwulf and the other captains.

  Arthdain came forward and stood before the mage. "Mythdarian, long have I honored you. Since I was a child you have been both a wise teacher and a second father to me. Permit me now to come with you in your search for the Shadow Lord. I too fear his evil magic, yet I would go with you just the same!"

  Mithdar smiled at the Nim prince and grasped his forearm. "And gladly would I accept your aid, Arthdain, if I was free to do so. But I am not. And, I think, neither are you. Your father wearies of this land and will soon be making the long journey into the west. Soon you shall be Zorka of Gareth Withrin, and both your people and your family will have great need of you."

  Arthdain looked in awe at the old mage. "How... how did you know?! My father but told me of his decision just before I left!"

  Mithdar waved the question away. "As you yourself just said, there is a time and a place for everything. Your place is leading your people and your time is now. I'd be a poor teacher indeed if I let you throw all that away just to accompany me. Besides, it is fated that two others, not yourself, shall face the Shadow Lord. As for myself, my time is nearly done. There is but one task left for me before I too depart Oma-Var; for even I must follow my fate."

  "Finding and killing Lucfelian!", Arthdain hissed.

  Mithdar shook his head. "Finding him, yes. As for the killing, I prefer to think of it as setting his soul to rest, for in truth, Arthdain, he died ages ago on the distant Plains of Falinor."

  Arthdain's blue eyes clouded. "As usual, Mythdarian, your words are too deep for me. I am but a simple soldier whom the Fates have seen fit to make a king. I would have it otherwise if I could."

  "So might we all, lad. But a king you shall soon be, and a good one, but hunting down evil sorcerers is not kings' work. That you leave to cantankerous old men like myself."

  "N' battle-scarred younger ones!", Erin put in, coming up to stand before Arthdain.

  "Shield-brother!", the king-to-be said, grasping the weapons-man by his forearms. "I see the Raven's Armour stood you well! You have shown great valor, just as my little sister said you would!"

  Erin shrugged. "I'm alive."

  "And now you would face this Shadow Lord in my stead?" Arthdain's tilted his golden head and smiled. "It seems you stay alive by willingly embracing death, my brother! Not the soundest of battle plans!"

  Erin shrugged again. "My father taught me that the best way to parry a blow is to strike first with a harder one. So far it's seemed to have worked."

  "Aye, manling!", Cal Gwailith put in. "We saw that up on yonder roof! Why, when you charged that Great Worm I thought you'd lost what little senses you had!"

  All laughed save two. Zoean, for she knew that Erin meant to go with Mithdar, and Thorn. Still holding Shard, he stepped forward.

  "Mithdar said that two others are fated to go with him," Thorn's voice was trembling as much as his wiry little body. "Erin is one. I will be the other."

  Fernleaf, standing just behind him, suddenly spun the Kirkwean around and wagged a slender finger in front of his nose. "Now you listen to me, Mister Bramblethorn Higgs! I've had just about enough of this! For over a year you've been gone! Traipsing all over Erg-knows-where, risking life and limb in every swamp and Karn-hole in Oma-Var! I thought that once you were back it would be better, but it only got worse!"

  A wayward strand of her red hair fell across her large eyes and she impatiently brushed it away. "The Erg-Leath said that you were to be 'The Wanderer'. Well and good! But your wandering days are over! You're home now, safe in the Root. The Slathers have been driven out and our people are free!"

  She shot Mithdar a stinging glance before returning to face Thorn. "This old greybeard here said there was a time and place for everything, and for once I agree with him! Well, your time as a warrior is over and your place is here beside me! Let someone else hunt down this Shadow Lord character! You've done way more than your share already!"

  Her tirade done, Fernleaf stood glaring at the group of warriors, daring someone to try and take her chosen mate away from her. All save Thorn stood in stunned silence.

  "Fern, you're a wonderment!", he said, touching her cheek gently with his battle-scared hand. "And I love you even more now for what you just said. I'd like nothing better than to go home with you right now, sit before our own hearth and hold you till we both grow old --- but I can't, Fern. Not yet."

  Tears coursing down her wind burnt cheeks, she took his hand and managed one small word: "Why?"

  The answer was quick in coming, the voice low, almost desperate. "Because He's still out there. He calls to me, Fern! With every breath I take I feel Him! Waiting. Watching. Until He's gone there can be no peace for us or anyone else!"

  Fernleaf, openly crying now, shook her head. "But why must you go?! Why must you always do what this old man says?!" She turned to face Mithdar with a look that would have melted ice. The mage's heart went out to her but he could find no words to ease her pain.

  "Because I still carry this!", Thorn suddenly cried, drawing Shard and holding it high. A gasp escaped from the gathered crowd as they all saw the black blade bathed in murky, swirling colors. "As long as Lucfelian exists I will never be free of it!"

  Thorn's soft blue eyes suddenly took on the cold, hard edge of madness. People backed away from his cutting gaze as much as the ensorcelled blade he now held aloft. More than a few made the age old sign against evil.

  Shard was once again about to take control when Mithdar placed himself between Fern and Thorn. Reaching out he gently touched both their foreheads. Instantly Fern's tear-clouded eyes closed and her tightly wound body relaxed. Thorn's wild eyes lost a good deal of their madness, yet part of it still lurked deep within, waiting, almost hungering for Shard's command. Though he spoke first to Fern, Mithdar's commanding voice held enthralled all that heard him.

  "Hear me, Fernleaf, and mark me well. Great sorrow has been yours. You have lost your father and friends, and believed the love of your life also lost to you. Now that he has returned you seek to keep him with you and out of harm's way. All this is well and good, for love should always seek to protect its own --- but Thorn's task is not yet completed." The mage took a step closer and gently touched her hand

  "If you force him to stay with you now, Fern, if you make him choose between you and Shard, I fear that you would loose him forever. He can not give it up, Fern. Though he loves you more than his own life, he could not. He has passed beyond that."

  Timin, tears streaming down his face, whispered lines from a poem that they all knew too well.

  'No rest nor peace, no hearth nor home,

  Till the Swordbearer's task be done.'

  Mithdar shifted his gaze to Thorn, who stood as one turned to stone, Shard frozen yet still pulsing in his clenched fist.

  "Long and hard has be
en your road, Bramblethorn Higgs, a road that has taken a greater toll on your soul than it has your battered body. Yet the road has not yet come to an end. One last stretch remains. A short one, but certainly the most difficult. Stout hearted Timin is right. You ARE the 'Swordbearer', Thorn! The evil that is in the black blade has rooted itself in you, and though your brave heart strives against it, in the end it will conquer --- unless you see this thing through."

  The mage turned back to Fernleaf, his voice an urgent plea. "He MUST complete his task, Fern! Not just for you or me or even himself, but for all the people of Oma-Var!"

  For a long moment the two young Kirkwean looked at each other, their overlarge eyes searching the depths of their love and their longing, yet in the end it was Fernleaf who turned to Mithdar, tears freely flowing again.

  "Take him, master wizard; but --- bring him back to me!"

  Mithdar bowed low to the courageous little maiden. "I swear by the Sacred Light to do all that I can, Fern, even to the laying down of my life."

  "Go then," she said. "Quickly. And may Erg watch over you."

  "If He will, fair maiden. If He will." The mage turned and, without a backward glance, strode off in the direction of the Kirkwean tree-village. Erin came and placed a soot-blackened hand around Thorn.

  "Let's away, friend, for I've no great desire to be rootin' round in the dark for this Shadow Lord!"

  Timin, along with Norgi, Spangle and Kel, moved to go with them, but Erin waved them back. "Sorry, lads, but the mage says just the two o' us. But keep the ale cold!" Then, flashing his dazzling smile, he quickly kissed Zoean and strode off after the wizard.

  Thorn tore his eyes off Fern and followed the weapons-man, sheathing Shard as he went. Mithdar waited at the edge of the great pines. Soon the huge trees swallowed them up.

  ***

  Chapter 62: 'THE SWORDBEARER'S TASK'

  At the foot of the first stairway leading up into the vast tree-village, the three of them halted. Scattered about at the base of the great pine were a number of bodies. Erin counted three Delgii, a half dozen Slathers and two Brakarns. From under one of the giant, ape-like creatures the crushed body of another Delgii protruded.