by Garon Whited
“I won’t need it.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
Bronze and I went into full stealth mode and vanished up the road. This slowed her down a bit, having to run with damped flames and eerily-quiet hoofbeats, but she still did better than fifty miles an hour. Nothing alive was going to outpace her.
The riders were already past our checkpoint and across the bridge. It was dark and they were leaving, so the sentry didn’t see any reason to light the beacon. Pity. I was looking forward to it. I made a mental note to ask Leisel about fortifying the position, though. A physical gate, or even just a roadblock at the western end of the bridge would be an improvement.
They were well past the bridge, following the road through the thick forest of the mountainside. We closed up to within a hundred feet, still silent and moon-dappled in the dark. The trees blocked most of the light, but there were still random shafts of silver. One man trailed about a hundred feet behind, acting as rearguard. Bronze and I were a silent shadow almost beside him and he didn’t even know we were there. He grunted slightly as I drew the vital energies from him. He wore a charm against magical effects. It slowed me down when I wrapped him in tendrils and yanked out his vitality. At this range, with nothing to distract me, it couldn’t stop me. The things really need some sort of chime or light or other alert to let the wearer know they’re being attacked. His first clue was when he felt tired, exhausted, and nothing, in that order and about that fast.
He slumped in the saddle and I reached out to steady him. Bronze told his horse to wait right there, and it did. It would stand there until it died, I think, if we didn’t come back for it.
This made us the rearguard for the kidnappers. At least, in shadow and moonlight, we were close enough. I uncoiled tendrils all around, reaching, laying one invisible thread after another on my targets. One for each man, but none for Renata. They also wore protective devices, so I had to concentrate, forcing each tendril to drill through the mystic shield around each man’s spirit. There was no way to drain them all quickly enough. If I tried, they would notice and we would be in a fight, which would ruin my concentration.
But if they didn’t notice? If I teased out a trickle of vitality from each? I could drain them gradually, like a garden hose siphons out a kiddie pool. It’s been a long day, it’s been a tough night, it’s late, I’m tired, will this ride never end, and I could sleep right here in the saddle…
Bronze did the walking. I sat silent and still, focused on the thin streamers of life wafting back along my tendrils. The range didn’t help, but I was shooting for a gradual effect anyway, so the rate of drain didn’t matter. Bronze kept pace with them, freeing me to close my eyes and concentrate. Occasionally, when my concentration faltered, I had to start again, drilling each tendril through those pesky shields to siphon off more energy. It took a while, but the cumulative effect was inevitable.
We made it another three miles or so before one of them fell from his horse, scale and chain mail clanking as he thudded down hard. The rest perked up, reined up, and a wave of exhaustion fell on them. They were already half-drained and tired, but now I hauled on their energies like a cowboy snapping a lariat tight. Bronze closed in, making my efforts more effective with proximity. Most of them also fell from the saddle, but a couple simply slumped. None of the horses bolted, but I knew why.
Bronze stopped beside the captive. I pulled the sack from Renata’s head. If she was a more fainting-flower princess-type, I might have observed how she was scantily clad in moonlight, with a tumble of loose, dark hair falling almost to her shoulders. As it was, she immediately looked around to number her captors and find a weapon. She didn’t quite know what to make of the scattered bodies. It took her a few seconds to recognize me in the moonlight.
“Sir?”
“Did you intend to leave us?” I inquired.
“No, sir!”
“Then who are your companions?”
“They work for the House of Sarcana.” She looked around at the slumped and fallen forms. “What happened?”
“Never mind what happened. Why do they want you?”
“I’m not sure, but I bet it has something to do with this baby.”
“Yeah, it was a stupid question, now I think of it. Can you get back to the village on your own?”
“Of course.”
I cut the ropes binding her and sent her on her way. Once she started her ride back, I counted six men around me—seven, with the rear guard. No doubt they had one more ahead as a scout. Well, he would notice they weren’t following him, eventually. I hoisted men onto their horses and tied them in place before he came back to see what was wrong.
“Good evening,” I called, when his life-glow came into view. I waved. He waved back. One man, six bodies on horseback, no signs of a struggle… I’m pretty sure the book they use in fighter school doesn’t cover this. He decided to ride a little closer.
“What’s going on?” he asked, which was actually my second guess for what he’d say.
“Saw a lady warrior riding like hell back the other way,” I told him. “Looks like she got free and beat the ever-living snot out of these poor guys. Do you know them?”
“Are they dead?”
“This one isn’t. I don’t think the rest are, either.”
He rode close and dismounted to check on them.
“They’re still breathing.”
“I thought so. What’s with the woman, anyway?”
“None of your business, stranger.”
“I kind of think it is.”
“Oh? And who are you?”
“Al of Lucard, and it’s my warrior you kidnapped.”
He drew his sword and I punched him in the guts, folding him up like an old-fashioned road map: badly. While he lay on the ground, trying to breathe, I crouched next to him.
“Now, see, I’m not too clear on why the House of Sarcana is so concerned with one bastard offspring of a side of fried meat. How much are they paying you to bring her back, anyway?”
After a little prodding, he named a price. I had no idea what the going rate was.
“Sounds a bit low to me.”
“You think?”
I debated with myself for a bit. Which way did I want to go with this? How does it look from the other side? I send eight men to recover a pregnant woman from a primitive village and none of them return. Did they choose to stay? Or did they vanish without a trace? My other option was to send someone back with a warning. Maybe a terrible warning. Thing is, I don’t want to escalate this. I want this to go away. And lately I have been a bit, well, let’s say “tempery” to avoid saying “brutal.” And I did sort of quasi-cremate what’s-his-name in the stands.
So, disappearance or dire warning? Decisions, decisions…
“Tell me something. Who hired you?”
“Naskarl.”
“Of Sarcana?”
“Yes.”
“Why does this Naskarl person want the woman?”
“Because of the baby?”
“Are you trying to be a smartass?”
“No.”
I picked him up by the belt and held him in the air while I stripped him of weapons. He didn’t protest too much. I suspect the groin strain alone was enough to keep him busy. I dropped him and played with his dagger. He lay on the road, curled up, groaning, hands between his legs.
“I am not in a good mood,” I warned him. I broke the steel in my fingers like snapping a pencil. “I have at least one dead guard at home and the prospect of more conflict to come. This makes me want to skin you alive and leave you nailed to a tree as a warning for the next bunch. I’m foregoing this impulse because I know it’s a low, unworthy one, but don’t test my resolve. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he gasped.
“Yes…?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, let’s try this again. Why does Naskarl want the woman? Or, if you prefer, why does Naskarl want the baby?”
> “I don’t know. I really don’t. He just told us what to do. He didn’t explain why.”
“Who’s in charge of your group?”
“Londrin.”
“Do you think Londrin knows anything more?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. He’s the one who picked us out, not Naskarl. He got the orders.”
“I’ll ask him, then, when he’s more awake. You, however, need to take a nap.”
I hit him in the face, hard, and gulped down most of his vitality. He went out like a light. At least he wasn’t in pain anymore.
Bronze and I left a minute or two later, leading a string of horses through the valley. Where am I going to keep these guys? I want to question them at greater length and possibly turn them into snack food. I need a formal dungeon. In the meantime, I know of a couple of caves, but nothing really suitable. Maybe the beginnings of a mine would do. The stones I’ve been hauling down from the minesites have made deep dents, really tunnels into the mountains. We’re about to start mining for coal, so… silver mine or copper? The copper mine is lower down and more accessible, so probably the silver mine. It also has a lot of lead in it, but they won’t be staying long enough for it to matter.
We took the horses up the road and I offloaded my prisoners. A couple of rocks, a handful of gravel, and a spell started the process to embed a leg on each man up to the knee in the stone floor. Lacking tools, they weren’t going anywhere. I loaded all their gear on the horses, put an alarm spell on the mouth of the tunnel, and went back down to the village.
Leisel, like everyone, was glad to see me. Renata already told them her story. She and the other two in her house were taken by surprise by warriors. Two grabbed her, two dealt with her friends. Sadly, screaming for help is not the first instinct of a female warrior. Ah, well. As a result, she was knocked half-unconscious, a bag put over her head, her hands and arms tied, and shoved up on a horse. The next thing she knew, I was taking the bag off her head and everyone else was down.
This went over surprisingly well.
“So, what happened?” Leisel asked. “Where are the bodies?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, Renata’s moving to the tower.”
“She is?”
“I am?”
“Shut up,” I countered. “Large, lying men showed up, nearly killed three, did kill one, and successfully kidnapped another. I haven’t figured out how to make Naskarl of Sarcana leave you alone, so you’re going to sleep in the fortification until I do.”
“But—”
“I don’t usually give orders,” I added, cutting her off, “but when I do, I expect them to be obeyed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Leisel? Please see to it. I plan to finish the top floor for Renata’s use, but there will be some shifting around until then. I don’t want her on the ground floor—it’s one door to bash through and off they go.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“How else are we doing?”
“No signs of other movement. Everyone’s accounted for here. The ironworks didn’t even know there’d been a problem.”
“Good. I’ll do a quick look around, but I think we can pack it up until morning.”
I did a scrying flyover of the valley. There were no hidden squads of backup kidnappers waiting in the woods. No barbarian tribesmen sneaking up on us, either.
With so much reassurance, Bronze and I hauled rocks down to the tower. I got busy on finishing the dome over the tower top. Once I decided to brute-force it, I chalked a circle on the floor, drew the symbols, stacked stone until we ran out, and spent an hour in concentration. Some sections of the dome aren’t all that thick—it’s more like eggshell in some arcs—but it’ll keep the rain off and put a stop to any ideas about scaling the tower.
Speaking of the tower, it’s growing. Downward. I do need a dungeon, so the spells are still thickening the dome—slowly—but mostly it’s expanding the tower foundation downward. Later, it’ll clear some open spaces for rooms and hallways.
We hauled rocks out to the bridge, too. If we’re going to control access to the valley, we need more than just a watchpost. By laying down the first course of stones, we can start the stone-growing architectural spells.
Tauta, 5th Day of Milaskir
First thing in the morning, I went up to visit Londrin and his squad. I brought a pot full of stew, a bucket of water, and a cranky Leisel. She’s grumpy when she doesn’t get her sleep, has a dead soldier, and discovers another can’t even feel her fingertips. I reassured her about the damaged neck, but Leisel isn’t used to severe injuries getting better. I’ll have to prove it before she’s happy.
I think she’s also a bit peeved about my/our bedroom being temporarily occupied by Renata. What else was I supposed to do? Put Renata back in the same room from which she was already kidnapped once?
Bronze waited outside while I unloaded the pot and the bucket. Leisel walked into the tunnel and was immediately greeted by demands to be set free. She swung her buckler and smacked one man hard enough to not only cross his eyes but shut him up. If she’d hit him with the edge, she’d have killed him. It’s sharp.
“Now listen up, all of you! You’re captives. You have certain traditional rights and I’ll do my best to see you get them.”
It was news to me, but I kept quiet, put down the food and water, and let her have the floor.
“Right now, there’s only one thing I want from you,” she continued. “I want to talk to your commander about who, why, and how—all the usual things.”
“And I want,” I said, picking up on her pause, “to talk to the man who broke the neck of one of my guards.”
“Yes, sir!” Leisel agreed, and addressed the captives again. “You heard him. I’ll do what I can to help you, but he wants to execute all of you by drowning in boiling fat. I suggest giving him what he wants.”
“Hold on,” said one man. “Who are you? How did we get here? Where’s all our things?”
I drew Firebrand and headed for him. Firebrand burned red, illuminating the tunnel and a lot of startled eyes. Leisel put a hand on my arm.
“Sir! Remember. Prisoners. They’re warriors, sir, not just some thugs hired in an alley.”
“If someone speaks in that tone again, I’m kicking his head down the mountainside,” I stated, Firebrand held out in a line toward the speaker’s eyes.
“What’s your name, warrior?”
“Kelak.”
“Kelak,” Leisel said, carefully, “and the rest of you. This is Al of House Lucard, the master of this valley. It’s his territory you’ve entered, his warrior you kidnapped, and, in one case, his warrior you killed. He’s the one who hit you so fast you don’t even remember being brought here.”
“One man?” demanded another of the captives. He followed his exclamation with a word. Technically, it was a vulgar term for pig excrement. I haven’t seen any cattle here, but I haven’t hunted any down. I’ve seen lots of pigs, though, so maybe it was a reasonable substitute. I cut his head off and kicked it out the tunnel.
For the record, it’s actually rather difficult to separate a head from a body. There are a lot of things in the neck designed to keep the head attached. Tendons, muscles, and let’s not forget the spine. Taking someone’s head off usually involves an axe and maybe two or three swings. I just make it look easy. Of course, it’s not something one usually wants to put on the resumé.
The headless body spurted blood from the neck—Firebrand chose not to cauterize it, and it was a good choice. The body flopped to the floor and continued pumping blood for nearly a minute. I followed the startled-looking head and kicked it outside, leaving Leisel to discuss matters with some very cooperative captives.
We didn’t work out the whole good-cop, bad-cop routine. It just happened.
The discussion inside went on for a while. I found a nice rock and sat on it. Bronze nuzzled my face and I scratched behind her jaw.
Boss?
“What’s up?”
You seem angry.
“Well, yeah.”
Why?
“Because I have a valley of people, here, and someone painted a picture of constant kidnappings, raids, other criminal activity.”
Why do you care, I mean?
“I don’t.”
You don’t?
I had to think about it for a minute. Did I care? I guess I did. I’m planning to kill some time here, do some experiments, gather data for my timeline research, and develop some rather esoteric and specialized spells. I only need a stable place to work. I don’t need to like anyone. I don’t need to care. I’m only here to kill some time until my real life catches up to me.
Except…
…except…
Except I’m not, am I?
This is the main trouble with being even remotely human while hanging around them. Getting involved with them.
Why can’t I mind my own business, live in a cave, and never talk to anyone? The most obvious reason is I need to eat. Is there another reason? Do I need people for some other purpose? I’m generally good with living alone, minding my own business, and keeping mainly to myself. It works for me.
Thing is, people keep finding me. Keep drawing me into their lives. Or, perhaps more accurately, their lives flow toward me and surround me. Is this a side effect of being a soul-sucking monster? Or is it a normal effect of being anywhere near people?
I held up the severed head and looked at him. He didn’t seem interested in a conversation. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes.
“No answers for me, hmm? I hope your friends in the cave are more forthcoming.”
You still seem angry, Firebrand pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I guess I am.”
Not just about the invasion. I mean you seem angrier than normal.
“Oh, you noticed?”
Bronze confirmed it. I’ve been angry for some time, deep down, and not doing anything about it.
“That’s the easy part. What am I angry about?” I demanded. “Figure that out, why don’t you?”
We think it’s a number of things, mostly to do with the whole traveling in time.
