by Rick Shelley
"You get too much pleasure out of killing," I said. I kept my voice as neutral as possible.
"They were our enemies-my enemies, at least."
"What you did that first time wasn't an act of war. It was something private and dirty-murder, nothing more."
"Vengeance is my right!" She flared the way I had expected her to. Maybe vengeance was her right, in Varay. Maybe, in the skewed logic of the buffer zone, it was even her duty. But…
"That's not the point. What I said is that you enjoy it too much. In my world…" I shook my head. "Let's just say that the standards of my world and yours are considerably different." I didn't want to get into an argument with her. I was afraid that it would get out of hand.
"I've never seen your world." She didn't sound as though she had much interest in it either. "All I have is my world. Why are you here?"
"Damn good question. I wish I had a good answer," I said, still hoping to avoid an argument. It was a question I had asked myself often enough. I still wasn't sure. "I guess I'm here because I'm the son of my parents." I told Annick, as briefly as I could, how I had learned about Varay and why I had come, and the rest of the story up to my arrival at Arrowroot.
"You're here because it's your duty to be here," Annick said-with some force, as if she were trying to emphasize a point won in a debate.
"That's what everyone seems to think," I conceded.
"You do your duty. I do mine. Is it so wrong to want to do what you're bound to anyway? To enjoy fulfilling your destiny?"
I didn't continue the argument-ah, discussion-because I could smell supper, and if Annick and I went on any longer I'd ruin my digestion if not my appetite. It was time to take another quick look over the ridge, then climb back down to camp.
Lesh did a bang-up job on supper. He had roasted the meat with the last of our onions stuffed into small cavities he had carved into the meat, and had collected the drippings and heated them with water to give us juice to spoon over the meat and to dip our hard bread in. It tasted like a feast after the days of dried, salted beef. All that was lacking was the beer. The four of us ate about twenty pounds of meat, and there was enough left over for breakfast and lunch the next day-that much longer before we would have to return to our jerky.
"It do fill the nooks and crannies," Lesh said, slapping his belly after Annick and I each complimented him on the meal.
The night was surprisingly chilly. While I was on guard, I walked around to keep warm. The air was clear, the sky studded with a wealth of stars for a change, giving me enough light to avoid tripping over my companions. I stayed on duty as long as I could keep alert, then woke Annick. As on the other nights, she woke instantly, immediately alert. She was still on guard when I woke again, sensing imminent danger. I woke the others with a word while I tried to pinpoint the threat. Before, the sense had always been strongly directional. This time the danger seemed to surround us.
Annick got her bow ready and stood in the center of our camp, turning slowly, peering toward the top of the rises that concealed us. With her elven night sight, she was the only one who could see clearly. Our starlight suddenly seemed inadequate. I focused on the narrow entrance to our cul-de-sac. The weapon that came to hand when I first jumped up was the elf sword. I held it in front of me at an angle, ready to spring into the fight I knew was near.
But it didn't come. After a time, I lost the edge of my danger warning, but it didn't fade completely. The danger was still there, close. We settled down and waited. For an hour or more, the feeling of danger ebbed and flowed.
"There's someone out there," I whispered. "They're either trying to catch us off-guard or they're trying to screw up their courage to attack."
"This isn't the best spot to be in, I'm thinking," Lesh said. "We're in a jug, and all they've got to do is cork it." We could have gone over the top, but that would have meant leaving our horses behind, and we were much too far from Varay for that.
"We'll have to make do," I told Lesh.
"A quick charge out in the dark?" he suggested.
"Not unless we have to. But let's pack everything up."
"I don't feel magic out there," Annick whispered. "It must be trolls."
"Then they're smarter than the trolls in the swamp," I said. I was still having trouble with the nuances of language, even with the translation magic. It wasn't nearly as unnerving talking in the dark, when I couldn't see that everything people said was out of sync with their mouths. The difficulty seemed to be that the translation magic wasn't as sophisticated as it might have been. For instance, it lumped together a lot of different creatures under the generic "troll." Like lumping together humans and the great apes as primates. Maybe personal introductions aren't essential, but it would be nice to know what kind of diner I was going to give gas to.
We made noises packing up. That must have made the difference.
I yelled, "Here they come!" as the awareness swept over me-an almost intuitive knowledge that bypassed the normal thinking processes. I had slung the claymore rig over my shoulder again while we were getting ready to leave. The claymore was the weapon I reached for, and I can't explain why. My own sword was at my waist, and I had years of practice with it. And the Smith Wesson was within reach. But I went for that six-foot cleaver as if it were my customary weapon.
It was the proper reflex, however it came about. As I brought the elf sword over my shoulder, it bisected one of the mountain trolls jumping down from the perimeter of our hole in the wall. I hardly felt a strain. The blade went through that troll like empty air-bones and all. I don't know if it was that "strength of Vara" that initiation as Hero was supposed to confer or if it was some magic of the sword, or a combination. I just know what happened.
The blade glowed in the dark once it had tasted blood. I found myself whistling a strange melody while I wielded the sword. The third surprise was that the elf blade felt almost weightless in action.
There was something else. We were fighting in the dark, but even though I could only make out vague shapes, mostly when they moved, I knew exactly where everyone was all the time. Throughout the engagement, I was aware of positions. Lesh and Harkane were at the exit from our campsite, keeping any trolls from coming in that way. Annick was at the back of the depression with her sword and knife, working hard to stay out of my way. I ranged through the rest of it, moving toward trolls as they came over the top-sometimes anticipating their appearance. I couldn't see well, but I didn't have to. I knew where everyone was.
And I knew more. Dragon's Death wasn't leaving wounded trolls to pop up and cause trouble later. The elf sword sliced too thoroughly. We got a little more light in the cul-de-sac as the fight progressed. Blood flowing on the blade of the elf sword made it glow more brightly. That happened fairly quickly. By the time I sliced into my fifth or sixth troll, the blade was as bright as a Jedi light saber. The trolls could see me clearly enough. And I could see the trolls that came close enough for Dragon's Death to reach.
The fight went on for a few minutes more-not long, really. I heard words that I couldn't understand and can't duplicate-the first failure of the translation magic. Then a guttural voice shouted, "The elf was masked!" Those trolls who could escape did. A fair number couldn't. The glow of my elf sword faded quickly. My danger sense idled again.
"They're gone," Lesh said.
"Let's get out of here before they come back," I said.
"They won't be back," Annick said. She sounded very confident. "They think you're an elf warrior because of the sword and the song. How did you know to conjure with that?"
"I didn't, and they may discover their mistake, so let's move."
I used my flashlight to make sure we didn't forget anything. That also gave us a chance to take a better look at our attackers. They were as ugly as the swamp trolls, but not as dirty or vile-smelling. They didn't look exactly the same, but the differences could only interest another troll.
We rode north again, deeper into Xayber's lands. Just after su
nrise we found a pass through the lower line of hills and turned east. Beyond the hills, the land was gently rolling, tall grass with occasional wooded stretches. These trees actually looked fairly normal-not the haunted-forest type of trees we had seen farther south along the isthmus. We rode from one copse of trees to the next, worrying more about cover than roads or speed. We stopped once when I felt that unseen presence probing again. It passed, then returned and passed again, more slowly the second time.
"He's closing in," I muttered. It had to be the Elflord of Xayber. I couldn't hope to evade him forever. The others looked at me. Nobody questioned my awareness of someone searching for us with magic. My companions took my magic sense more for granted than I did.
"If we can't find somewhere to strike at the Elflord today, we head back to Varay," I said. "The deeper we get, the harder it'll be to get out in time to meet the Etevar's army, and right now, he's a greater threat to Varay than Xayber." I stared at Annick for a long moment, but she didn't speak.
We found our target before noon. We came through a wooded draw between two low hills and saw a riot of bright colors a half mile off.
"Pull up," I said, turning my horse as I spoke. We moved back around the side of one of the hills, away from the bright colors, out of sight. "Let's climb the hill for a better look." We dismounted and led our horses partway up the gentle slope. Lesh and Harkane stayed well below the crest with the animals. Annick climbed to the top with me. I didn't argue. Her eyes were sharper than mine.
"Tents, pavilions, six in all," she reported slowly. "People. It looks like some sort of picnic outing."
"A picnic, nor a war party?" I asked.
"Not a war party with women in party gowns."
"How many people?" I could see movement around the tents, but I couldn't see well enough to take a reliable count.
"I can't see inside the tents," Annick reminded me. "Not more than a few dozen people, though, judging from the horses and wagons."
It looked like just the kind of target I had been hoping for.
"We're not going in to see how many we can kill," I said. "Rip a few tents, scatter the horses, scare anyone we can. We don't fight unless we have to fight to get out."
"We'll have to fight," Annick said, meeting my eyes. "It's not all fancy ladies, and some of the ladies of Fairy might be more than a match for you at that." If Annick was any point of comparison, I could believe it.
"Let's get going," I said.
It looked as if we might be able to get within two hundred yards of the tents before we lost our cover if we were careful and took a wide arc to the left, around the hill we were on. I didn't want to be out in the open any longer than necessary. That would give our targets too much warning, and The Charge of the Light Brigade wasn't at all what I wanted to stage. I pulled my Cubs cap down tight and drew the claymore. Using the elf sword one-handed and on horseback would be awkward as hell, I knew, but it would be a hell of a lot more impressive than my own sword. And I did want to impress the locals. That was the whole point of the exercise.
"When we get close, make a lot of noise," I said as we came out of the trees and charged the tents.
Once more, the horses that Annick's uncle had provided stretched into a willing gallop, racing toward the tents. So far, the only thing that had managed to unnerve the animals was the dragon, and that had the same effect on humans.
A few of the revelers at the Fairy picnic looked like civilized versions of the trolls we had seen, more like the one troll soldier on the beach. There were also tall, fair folk who had to have elvish blood. There were squat dwarfs, and normal humans. Most of them were sporting weapons. Even the ladies all seemed to wear long, thin daggers at their waists, and some had bows or swords as well.
As soon as I saw weapons-not drawn, just there-I knew that we wouldn't get through the encampment without violence. Annick shot two arrows as soon as she saw a raised sword-a good fifty yards off. After that, all I could hope for was to get in and out as quickly as possible, before the locals could organize any real defense.
We headed directly for the center of the camp. Lesh cut picket lines and tethers and chased off horses. Harkane did some fancy stunt riding, leaning way over to grab several hunks of" burning wood from a bonfire in the middle of the camp-hardly slowing down at all. Then he circled around to use the brands to fire all of the tents and open pavilions. The silk, or whatever it was, burned fast.
A few of the Fairy folk stood ready to meet us-apparently not at all discomfited by the change to their schedule. The four of us were well separated by then, so everything happened as a series of individual duels. Annick went into her berserker mode again, chasing down locals, forcing them to fight. Lesh and Harkane paid more attention to my instructions. They concentrated on causing confusion and damage, only fighting when they had to defend themselves. Me, I had my hands full for a few minutes.
An axe-wielding dwarf jumped out in front of me and tried to chop my horse out from between us. I jerked hard on the reins and the animal reared and came down hard toward the dwarf, forcing him to back off. By the time he stepped forward again, I had my horse turned so I could meet the dwarf with Dragon's Death. The claymore quickly shortened the dwarf by a head. I noticed that I was whistling again, the same eerie melody I had whistled while we were fighting the mountain trolls. Although the elvish sword didn't glow as it had in the night, I had no trouble handling it, even one-handed. There was no nonsense of the sword doing its own fighting regardless of me, or dragging me along with it. I was always in control, but that sword proved to be as easy to use as a reed wand.
Just after I cut down the dwarf, something hard hit me in the back. The impact pitched me forward. If I hadn't managed to get my left arm hooked around the neck of my horse, I would have been thrown over his head. The pain in my back was like being hit by a pitch-a hard fastball. My vision blurred for a moment. I fought to push myself upright in the saddle again and puffed, trying to get my breathing in order. I hadn't seen what hit me, but I assumed that someone had thrown a spear-with one hell of a lot a force behind it. The lance wasn't sticking out of me, so I knew that my chain mail had turned the shaft aside. The spot where it hit was-well, "sore" doesn't begin to approach an adequate description of how it felt, but I couldn't stop to check the extent of the damage. The thrower-one of those tall, pale types that I assumed had elven blood-ran at me, drawing his sword. He was on foot and his blade was just a normal broadsword, but he didn't see at all intimidated by my longer weapon.
We didn't play games. My back hurt so badly that I had to grit my teeth against the pain. My only thought was to end this duel as quickly as possible. I parried his swing, then my sword whirled around full-circle, whistling through the air, and took off his sword arm above the elbow. I kicked out to knock him back. The shock went all the way up my leg to the pain in my back. But the guy did go down and he didn't bother to get back up.
I left him lying there and backed my horse through a circle, looking for the next threat. The Fairy camp was a shambles. Every tent was burning, and so were two of the wagons. Quite a number of revelers were down, dead or wounded. Their horses had all run off, except for one with a broken leg. That horse rolled on the ground and neighed in panic and pain. We had done everything we could hope to do.
"Let's go!" I shouted. I waved my sword above my head until that aggravated the pain in my back too much to continue, then led the way out of camp, due south. The others closed up quickly behind me. Even Annick broke off right away. Maybe she thought I would leave her there if she didn't. Maybe I would have. None of the arrows that followed us came close, and there was no immediate pursuit, not without horses. But we rode as if the posse were right on our tails. The horses might return, or someone at the picnic might have the magic to contact others to hunt us.
I could feel my eyes tearing up from the pain in my back, but I couldn't take much notice of that yet, not until we had some space between us and the people we had just attacked. When we were no
t quite out of sight of the burning tents, we cut right sharply. I hoped to leave the impression that we were going northwest, that we had simply made a tiny little error, turning just a couple of minutes too soon. Then, when I was absolutely certain that none of the elvish folk could still see us, we turned south again and drifted back to our original course. It was another hour before I dared to stop and dismount so we could rest our horses and check out my back.
Getting my chain mail off brought new agony. I lay down on my stomach-almost fainted and fell-and Annick and Lesh both checked out my wound.
"There's a puncture, not too deep," Annick said. "A very dark bruise around it, bigger than both my fists together. "
"There may be a broken rib or two, lord," Lesh said.
Annick poured water and did what she could to clean the wound. Her touch was surprisingly light, but that didn't stop every new touch from adding to the pain. "There's not much else we can do here," she said when she finished.
"Look in my pack," I said. "I think there's a roll of gauze and some tape. If I've got a busted rib, it needs to be bandaged as tight as possible." I didn't remember seeing anything like aspirin. Mother wasn't likely to think of something like that.
The process of bandaging hurt so much that I almost passed out again, but when it was finished, I did feel a little better. The pain wasn't nearly so acute. The tight gauze girdle exerted pressure all around my middle. I got my shirt back on, but not the chain mail. I didn't even want to think about putting all that weight back on, even though the armor had undoubtedly saved my life.
I sat on the ground for a few minutes after the tape was secure, then got to my feet gingerly. I could feel sweat beading up on my face, but we had to press on.
"We'd better get moving again," I said, my voice low as I tried to get by without breathing very deeply.
