The Godseeker Duet

by David A Willson

  “Whenever you’re ready. Get the wall burning, then come back here and we’ll circle around again.”

  Yury dashed away. Gwyn watched the first torch disappear—the speed of his run had blown it out. He paused at the second torch, using it to relight the first, then continued at a slower pace. He’d acquired four before a sentry saw him.

  “Hey!”

  Yury ran straight for the sentry, throwing one of his torches at the tower, missing. He dropped the other three at the base of the wall. Arrows flew in the half-darkness, but he dodged them easily, then raced back as they raised the alarm. He grabbed several more torches, then sprinted for another part of the wall where he dropped them at the base.

  “Fire!” shouted another guard. They were slow to react. “Get the buckets!”

  The front gate opened and soldiers, carrying buckets of water, tried to douse the first blaze, but Yury had started a third fire now, near the southeast corner.

  Gwyn rose to her feet and started running the perimeter of the wall, expecting Yury to join her, but when she looked for him, he was nowhere to be found.

  She looked at the southern wall. The sentry towers were empty, save one. She ran straight for the guard, nocking an arrow as she bolted across the open area that separated her from the compound. He saw her just as she shot, the shaft impaling his neck before he slumped, eyes wide in surprise. She threw the bow over her shoulder and launched herself for the wall, hand over hand to the top, then over the other side. As she descended, she looked around, seeing soldiers carrying buckets to the eastern sentry towers. They stormed up the ladders and threw the water over the side. One of them saw her just as her feet hit the ground. He dropped his bucket and drew a sword just in time to catch an arrow through the heart.

  Gwyn ran and hid behind the field latrine. The stench was overwhelming, but she needed time to survey the scene. The rear door of the main building opened, and a guard stepped out. Aiming with her bow, she had almost loosed the arrow, when a blur took the man off his feet, dropping the soldier to the ground with a gaping wound in his neck, then disappearing into the building. Yury.

  Gwyn sprinted across the yard to the building and checked the fallen guard for the keys. She found a chain with half a dozen large keys attached to his belt. After grabbing them, she dashed through the door and found two more guards inside, twitching on the floor, expiring from loss of blood, gaping wounds visible on their necks. Yury stood outside a giant cage, holding a bloody dagger. Inside, the frightened eyes of a dozen children were fixed on the barbarian.

  “No,” he said, looking at the children who ranged from about ten years old to maybe sixteen.

  “She’s not here?”

  “No.”

  Well, they were in this far, so they might as well save the kids, if they could. Gwyn approached the cage, looking at the lock and trying to guess which key would fit. A sound from the left caught their attention, and Gwyn fumbled with the keys as she turned to see four guards coming down a stairwell from the second story. A moment later, one of Gwyn’s swords disappeared from its sheath on her back and Yury was across the room, engaging them one at a time as they approached.

  She fumbled again with keys. She placed another one in the lock, turned it, and the tumbler released with a click. The huge cage door swung open, and Gwyn beckoned to the children inside. Several were crying.

  “Come. This is your chance. We’re here to save you,” she said.

  Two of the older children rounded up the smaller ones and started to herd them out of the cage. Gwyn led them out the back door, following Yury. As they entered the main yard of the outpost, heat from the burning wall hit Gwyn on the left side of her face, and she tried to shield several children with her body. The entire eastern wall was ablaze, and the fire had now moved to the southern wall.

  “Get to the gate,” she yelled, holding her arms out to direct the children toward the west. One of the smaller ones screamed and darted back toward the door, but Gwyn caught him by the back of his shirt and pulled, then kicked the door closed. The boy turned, a terrified look on his face. Gwyn grabbed him by the arm, pulling to follow the others, who were running after Yury.

  “Projects escaping!” The shout was from the north, a single soldier running straight at Yury, sword drawn.

  Yury broke from the group to engage the soldier who wore a different-looking tabard than the others. Black. A gifted. Yury closed the distance between the two, sword brandished, and in a whirl of steel, his blade sliced across the soldier’s neck. The man remained standing, with no apparent wound from Yury’s attack. He was a steelskin. Yury paused in surprise, giving the soldier time to slash a blade across Yury’s ribs.

  Gwyn engaged her sight to see a cepp glowing under the soldier’s armor at his waist. She thought to launch an arrow, but it would just bounce off the man’s skin, so she rushed the children along toward the west gate. Yury would have to handle that one himself.

  As she approached the gate, she saw a guard in the southwest tower, holding a bow, about to shoot. She beat him to it, launching two arrows at once, both landing in his torso and sending his own arrow flying far wide. Another soldier, spear in hand, was running along the western wall toward her. Her arrow found his shoulder before he could engage, and he dropped his sword long enough for her to put another shaft through his forehead. But she was running low on arrows.

  Gwyn hurried the children along the wall, almost to the gate, grateful that the fire had not yet spread along the walls this far. As they approached, three guards blocked the exit and one stood in the tower, but their attention was focused on the raging fire. She directed the kids to hide on the south side of one of the small buildings, then launched her remaining arrows at the soldiers. The tower guard was dead, along with two of the others, but the third now closed in on her, forcing her to drop the bow and draw her remaining sword.

  She dodged his first thrust and countered with a slash across his lower back that glanced off his armor. Foolish. She should have gone for the back of his neck. She ducked to avoid a sweep of his blade and slashed his boot, her sword biting deep. He fell, grabbing his foot in pain. She thrust forward with the tip of her sword, piercing the leather under his arm to impale his lung.

  A moment later, she disengaged the three bolts that held the western gate and strained to push it open. Two of the older boys came to her aid, and the gate moved enough for them to escape.

  “Go,” Gwyn said as the children rushed through the opening. “Run! As fast as you can. To the nearest town. Tell everyone what is happening and hide from any soldiers.”

  Just then, a door on the small northwestern project building exploded open, bursting off its hinges. Gwyn squared herself to face the threat, heart pounding. She had no bow, only one sword, would have soldiers on her any moment, and now this. Stooping and angling its body sideways to get through the opening, a giant emerged and turned to face Gwyn. The creature was a foot taller than Yury and twice as wide. It didn’t have a weapon or armor, but Gwyn doubted it would need one to kill her.

  Holy Dei, help me.

  It charged.

  Gwyn sidestepped as it passed her, reaching with its massive arms. A finger brushed her, almost catching her leather tunic, and she spun in midair, sweeping her sword at the monster as she whirled, the blade biting into its forearm. It bellowed and Gwyn landed awkwardly on the ground, wrenching a shoulder with the impact before scrambling to her feet to face her opponent.

  It charged again, and she ducked, then sidestepped to the right. It was fast for something so huge, but not as fast as she was, and her blade found its left thigh, slicing deep. She turned to face it again. It stumbled and braced itself against the wall, the leg wound bleeding. Then it stood upright and the wound on its leg closed. Healed.

  Uh oh.

  Even if she stabbed this monster in the heart, he would probably survive. It was a cursed with a health rune, like Mykel and Yury, and she would have no chance. She looked about for Yury, but he was nowh
ere to be found—probably still engaged with the steelskin or other soldiers.

  The monster reached to the roof of the short building and grabbed the edge, ripping off a rafter, and destroying the roof in the process. A strength rune, too. This was just getting worse!

  It took several steps forward, positioning itself between her and the open gate. No exit. Gwyn flared her vision to see two runes, one on each leg, flaring hot. Strength and health. And now it wielded a seven-foot club.

  She turned and ran, and almost made it to the open area near the field latrine when she felt a crushing impact against her right shoulder and upper back, sending her sprawling forward to the ground. A dull pain echoed through her back and down her arm, forcing her to lose the grip on her sword. She turned to look through blurred vision and saw the giant’s makeshift club lying on the ground next to her. He had thrown it, and now she was out of the fight.

  Rolling onto one side, she reached for her dagger with her left hand and tried to look back at the monster but couldn’t focus. The children were safe, and, hopefully, so was Yury, but she would die right here. But she wouldn’t go easily, and if she could stab this monster once more before he crushed her skull, it would be the best she could hope for.

  Her fingers tightened on the dagger and her heartbeat raced as the monster loomed close, standing just beyond her reach and holding another giant rafter over its head. This was her executioner, and his axe was about to fall.

  Then a blur knocked the club from the beast’s hands. Two wounds appeared on the side of its torso. It screamed and spun, looking for the new threat.

  Yury circled back around, stabbing at the giant beast, but each time the wounds closed. The giant retrieved its club and engaged, but Yury was too fast and delivered strike after strike, wounds appearing all over the monster’s chest, then fading as the beast flared health.

  Over to the right, Yury stopped, far from the giant’s reach. His torso was drenched in blood, and he was heaving hard, obviously exhausted. His light was low, and he was running out of strength. She looked at the giant, whose light burned brightly. Yury was outmatched.

  “Run!” Gwyn said.

  But Yury charged, and the giant’s club took him square in the chest, knocking him at least twenty feet. He screamed in pain and rolled, stunned, probably with broken ribs. Hopefully, he could heal and still escape with the strength he had left.

  “Yury, go! It’s too strong!”

  Gwyn struggled weakly to her feet and brandished the dagger at the beast, hoping to delay him long enough for Yury to escape. Her head swam with the pain in her shoulder and back, and she strained to focus on the monster before her. It turned its attention to her once again, then charged.

  Then she felt the grip of strong hands tightening around her, followed by a rush of wind through her hair. In the confusion, the dagger in her hand slipped free. She struggled to escape the tight grip on her, but pain racked her body. Through dreary eyes, she caught images of the retreating walls of the outpost. She was being carried, but it wasn’t the monster who held her.

  Yury.

  She closed her eyes and let him whisk her away.

  32

  The Pass

  Nara stood on the high hill at the vanguard of her army, overlooking the final pass that would take them into the slopes that descended into Fairmont. Jahmai wanted them to skirt this chokepoint, veering far to the east, worried that Kayna’s forces would ambush and destroy them as they move through the pass, but Nara wanted the army to rest and refused to take the detour.

  To the northwest, the twin peaks of Mount Fi towered over the other mountains, adding to the dread of the impending conflict. The battle would be joined tomorrow, most likely. If they could get through the pass and form up, that was. But the troops would be tired, and a debate had raged much of last night. Rest today and go through the pass tomorrow, or charge forward today and end up fighting tired in the morning?

  Nara had finally ordered them to rest while she watched for enemy troop movement. They would go through the pass early in the morning, before sunrise, long before Kayna’s general could form up his lines.

  Mykel joined her on the high hill. “Reminds me of Dimmitt.”

  Nara cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Not really, I suppose. Big city, giant mountains. Nothing like Dimmitt at all. I guess it’s just the feeling. You and I standing together and looking down, right before the announcement. Wondering what tomorrow holds.”

  “Oh. I see what you mean. Last time we were in this position, things didn’t go as planned.”

  “Tomorrow will be different.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  He smiled with confidence. “I am.”

  She looked back, scanning the peaks above the pass for enemies who might rain arrows down on her troops.

  “No enemy,” Mykel said. “I’ve been racing around the hills and there are only a few scouts. She’s not worried about me at all.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “She thinks she can take you. And she thinks her army can take ours. She’s probably right about the army part.”

  “Yeah, I know. It will all be up to me.”

  Mykel shrugged. “I’ll help. She doesn’t have an answer for what I’m bringing to the fight. Not at all.”

  Evening came, and the troops rested but Nara stayed awake on a high cliff, watching on the slopes below for signs of enemy activity. Far in the distance, she saw torches moving on the plains just outside Fairmont, but they weren’t close enough to bring alarm. The fight would occur on the lower slopes of the Twins. Strange how that had worked out. Bylo believed the Twins’ importance to the church was based on an error in translation, yet this battle would rage under their watch.

  She thought about the scripture that Bylo thought so important:

  ‘And the phyili was put asunder; separated, but not destroyed. Each defied the other, bringing conflict, pain, and death to many. In the end, only one remained.’

  She hoped that the part about pain and death to many was wrong. War was far from ideal, but she didn’t know of another way to end this, and it was too late for a change of plans now.

  Dawn was still hours away and with no sign of the enemy approaching, Nara moved down from her vantage point and toward her troops. Some rose and prepared for the final push, Jahmai among them.

  “When do you want it?” she asked.

  “Any time. Try not to shine much farther ahead than our troops. They know we’re here but won’t expect us until dawn and I’d like to give as little notice as possible. Time to get through the pass and form up before they can block us.”

  “Agreed.”

  She climbed high on the cliffs once again, finding her way in the dark with her vision, rising through the hills and low mountains to find a small outcropping that faced the path below. Flaring the light rune, she shined on her army, bringing dawn far earlier than normal.

  A short time later, the soldiers marched and drove their wagons ahead, guided by the temporary sun that was their inspiration. Horses, archers, infantry, all moved as fast as they could through the pass toward Fairmont. Mykel and the other scouts manned the peaks, watching for enemy activity and giving reports to both Nara and Jahmai. Kayna’s general remained low on the plains, just outside Fairmont. At least three thousand troops camped with him, but they hadn’t yet formed battle lines.

  Three thousand enemy troops. Wow. She was far outmatched, but her army had hope, and they were the forces of good, locked in a battle with dark forces. If Dei existed, and the scriptures were true, then he had defeated Kai in an epic struggle long ago. He refused to let evil have the final say, and although He seemed to care little about individual people, or the pain that some people spread about, He might care about the big stuff. Nara hoped so. If there had ever been a demon of Kai on this earth, Kayna was it. They must win this fight. There was no other choice.

  33

  Battle Lines

  Dawn was breaki
ng, and as Anne approached the outskirts of Fairmont, she considered what must happen next. Gwyn would be waiting somewhere to the east, but as Anne looked ahead to the slopes of the Twins, she could see the torches of Fairmont’s army as they marched, forming up a camp on the plains between the city and the mountains. Nara’s army would be in those mountains and coming to clash with the enemy soon.

  Anne wouldn’t make it in time. Too old. Too slow. Her back was weak, her calves ached, and far too few had given her rides, making this one of the longest walks she’d endured in many years. If she could find Gwyn soon, perhaps the message would arrive in time. Everything depended on it.

  The sound of a racing wagon behind her forced Anne to step off the road, and she raised her walking stick in protest at the driver as he passed, going far too quickly in the near-darkness. The back of the wagon was filled with sacks, probably grain for Fairmont’s armies.

  She summoned the resolve to step up her pace despite the discomfort, and, several hours later, found her way into a forest near the northern slopes of the Twins. After another hour of wandering the woods, she took a rest, sitting on an old, dead stump.

  “I wondered when you’d get here.”

  Anne turned to see Gwyn, whose right arm rested in a sling. A large Roska stood behind her.

  “Hello,” Anne said to Yury, nodding her head in greeting.

  “Hi.”

  “You’re quite tall,” Anne said. “Didn’t expect that, I guess.”

  “Did we surprise you?” Gwyn asked.

  She nodded. “Don’t sneak up on old women,” Anne said. “It’s rude.”

  “I’ve never surprised you before. Are you okay?”

  Anne tried to stand but failed, slumping back down. “He doesn’t show me much anymore, but never mind that. I have something for you to do. Can you travel?”