by Timothy Ray
Mentally fighting for every foot, he made her ride next to him as they headed south through the skirmish lines and back towards the gates he had recently ridden through. He had retrieved his horse and side by side they approached the gate. His nose was gushing by this point and he felt his control waver.
Somehow, he’d still managed to distract the guards and get them to admit them through gate; to forget they’d ever been there. Free of the horde army and on the plains south of Alamar, he forced them to ride as far and fast as they could, hoping to put some distance from the horde army before trying to reason with her further.
The first night had been the worse.
He had tried to share images of their lives together. Of them huddling in the barn, traveling with the merchant, and that terrible night they had been separated. He shared with her his life since, growing up amongst the Dwarves, his determination to find her; but she ignored it like it was some trick. Some ploy of an enemy magician trying to break her.
Time and time again, he had to command her body to sleep and not to wake until he told her to—another ability he hadn’t known he had until trying it that first night. When he had his energy back, he would go back at it again, always while moving south and away from the grip of evil that still clutched her heart.
It took them a month, but he brought her to the sight of that late-night ambush and forced her to relive it again. He made her see that he had been spared, that he had lived. He reinforced who he was and finally felt something give. The little girl that had been broken, hidden within, was finally rising to the surface. He embraced that image and held her close.
Though the evil mask she wore continued to fight, the twin sister he loved was slowly starting to emerge. He got her to quit resisting, to cease trying to escape, waiting patiently to see if it was just an act so she could break loose later and run away.
It had never happened.
Slowly she came back to herself and three months after the harrowing rescue, physically embraced him as her brother. Her mind opened up to him and their consciousness’s were linked as they had been in their childhood; melding together they experienced their lives once more. He was more detached, having seen the horrors inflicted upon her, and handled the sharing easier than he had on that first attempt. Together once more, they left the nightmares of their past, and rode east to explore their new future.
Then he had touched on the mind of the magician Merlin, and they were thrown right back into the frying pan once more.
They hadn’t had any time to relax, to enjoy each other’s company, before meeting up with the mage and coming to Lancaster. He would’ve liked to travel with her for a bit, to allow them to rediscover each other. Take some time to enjoy their reunion and the new lives before them; but it was not to be.
He sighed.
Reaching out with his mind he tried to locate his sister. He had to be drawing close to the lake and felt himself recovered enough to use his powers once more. He saw only darkness and fire. Panicked, he kicked his horse’s flanks and used the creature’s eyes to lead him forward. The sky was darkened with the bodies of birds and to his horror he realized they were attacking something on the ground ahead.
“Reyna!” he screamed, but it was lost in the chaos issuing above.
He brought his horse to a halt and sat straight on the saddle, taking a deep breath and relaxing his mind. Then he reached out and felt for the minds of the crows circling the skies. Horrified, he realized there was a shared consciousness, one mind controlling these creature’s actions. The hate and fury behind it was like nothing he had ever felt. There was a tug on his thoughts and he realized that he’d exposed himself to this awesome force above. He instantly shielded his mind, threw up every wall he could, and made himself invisible to the alien mind’s pursuit.
Then he waited.
When he was satisfied that he had sufficiently hidden himself, he reached out to the others and began the process of shielding them as well. His sister felt his presence, relenting instantly to what he was doing, but the other three minds fought him and a wave of nausea hit once more.
“Quit fighting him, you feral bitch! Do you want to die?” he heard his sister yell at the nearby ranger.
After a few more exchanges, the other mind yielded, and he dove into its feral depths. With Reyna and Kylee protected, he used the elf’s bond with her wolf to ward him as well. That just left Kore. Surprisingly, the orc had a strong mental barrier, and it took him longer than expected to declare himself friend; to get the behemoth to let him in.
The crows suddenly lifted into the sky.
Projecting an image of their prey as torn and bloodied corpses, he convinced the murder of crows that their work was done. That evil spirit that drove them searched for any sign of deception, somehow sensing that something wasn’t right. He remained firm and kept the image clear. In a burst, the crows spread apart, released from their bindings, and flew in a multitude of directions away from their position.
He maintained the shielding until he was confident that they were safe. Then he released it and slumped forward in his saddle; nearly blacking out. He heard voices, but he was too exhausted to make out what they were saying. His horse began to move and he blindly let it take him where it will. After a few minutes, hands pawed at him and pulled him to the ground.
Weakly, he lay cradled in someone’s arms and felt the familiar consciousness of his sister embracing him. “What the hell do you think you were doing?” she reprimanded.
“What I always do,” he croaked back. “Saving your ass.”
“You’re a bloody idiot. Were you trying to do their work for them by killing yourself?” she snapped back. He could hear the sarcasm, but also felt the warmth buried beneath.
He moaned as the pounding headache had tripled in strength. “Still alive,” he managed.
“Barely,” Reyna rebuked.
“Head hurts, think I’ll sleep now.” He closed off his mind from the others and retreated into the colored landscape that served as his inner sanctum. Always vivid and beautiful, he went forth and let his mind finally rest.
His sister did not move. She remained there on the ground cradling her brother, as moments later exhaustion overtook him and he began to snore.
III
“Tuskar!” Kylee yelled, rushing forward as soon as the crows departed.
Through their shared bond, she could feel that he was alive, but her keen eyes did not see him anywhere. The feral part of her had receded when Jared had entered her mind, and now her awareness of what happened had begun to set in.
She had not seen the wolf since the crows attacked, and couldn’t figure out how he had survived; she was barely breathing herself. Her body was covered in the blood and guts of the birds she slew. There were deep claw marks and torn flesh in multiple places of unarmored skin. Her right cheek felt like it was cut open, stinging with the dirt that grated against the exposed nerves. As she surged forward, her limbs began to ache, and the exhaustion that came with overuse of her magic began to settle in.
She stumbled towards the cloaked form crouching a few feet away.
The cloak had been shredded and she could see broken bodies of crows laying around the armored shell; they must have broken their necks trying to penetrate the plated armor. Slowly Kore rose to his feet and removed his helmet. Tuskar was freed from the orc’s embrace and leapt from the ground where he had been pinned.
With a pounce, he traversed the distance between them and plunged into her arms.
She was too tired to keep her balance and was thrown to the corpse littered ground. His rough tongue began licking the blood from her face and she turned away with an unexpected chuckle. She embraced the wolf, letting her love radiate through the bond they shared. A shadow fell across her and she looked up at the hulk hovering above.
Kore’s tusks worked as he struggled to find the right words to say. His red eyes marveled at their reunion and she thought she saw something resembling a smile. His gr
een tinted skin was covered with sweat and his pronounced cheek bones were smeared with dirt. His dark red hair hung loose upon his shoulders, the ends of which were covered in bird guts.
“Kore no fight birds. Axe no good,” he stammered. He had been learning their common tongue, but was still struggling with its usage. She knew from the look in his eyes that the frustration of not being able to say what he meant was getting to him. “Kore only able protect wolf. Armor protect.”
The orc knew that he was protected in his armor and had used it to shield Tuskar rather than fight off the birds—
Her conflicting emotions raged within.
She had been bred to hate the Orcs with every fiber of her being. She had been resisting even talking to him the entire time they had traveled together. She remembered her sneers and nasty remarks. As well as the many times she had snuck up on him while he was sleeping and placed a dagger to his throat. Through all that hate he’d received, he had still put himself between the murderous crows and her beloved companion.
Tuskar was alive because of him.
Her companion had finally let her sit up and a plated hand was extended from the armored hulk in offered assistance. Taking it, she let him pull her to her feet, and they stood facing each other, truly seeing the other for the first time.
“I am in your debt,” she said, bowing her head, overcome with the guilt of how she had treated him.
“No,” Kore replied and shook his head. “Tuskar one us. Kore did nothing Kylee would not.” His eyes had softened and she could read from his expression the sincerity behind his words. She reached her arm out and took his by his elbow in an embrace of a brother in arms; signifying what no words could say. “Kore and Kylee friends now?”
The brute truly did not think of anything else but protecting Tuskar. He hadn’t done it to gain her favor, but to protect an exposed member of their group. “Yes, you and I are friends now. Thank you,” she added, trying to convey the gratitude she felt inside.
“You two gonna hug it out?” came the snide remark from behind.
She turned to look at the black knight sitting on the ground with her brother’s head in her lap. “Crap, you mean you’re still alive?” she teased back. She let go of Kore’s arm and moved in their direction. The orc came to stand by her side and was looking to the skies, as if making sure the attack was really over.
“I could say the same,” Reyna commented dryly. “My armor is a little dented, otherwise I’m unscathed. You, on the other hand, look like a butchered bull carcass.”
“Can’t use a bow with a metal glove,” she returned, snatching her discarded weapon from the flattened grass. A shared battle can forge a bond between those that survived and the distaste she felt towards Reyna earlier in the day began to ease. “Thanks for your help back there. You could’ve done what Kore did and just wait for it to be over. You didn’t have to help fight them off.”
Reyna’s face remained stoic. Did anything make the woman smile? “Hide in a fetal position on the ground? Not my style,” she snarled, hand stroking Jared’s hair.
She could’ve continued the banter, but to what end? The ranger took a moment to breathe in the air, to let the adrenaline rush subside. Her body was exhausted and her wounds stung from the dirt caked in them. “Good thing your brother came along when he did. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve held out.”
“He shouldn’t have pushed himself that hard. This blood on his face is not from the crows,” Reyna remarked, using her canteen and a rag to clean it off. “Don’t count on him being able to save your ass again. If he dies doing so, I’ll kill you myself.”
Well, okay, screw that brotherhood in arms shit—she still didn’t like the bitch. “I’m going to get some more water,” she sneered and turned towards the water’s edge.
“You do that,” came the quick retort back.
Merlin had better get back here quick, she thought as she began refilling her canteen. When it was full, she put its cap on and tossed it on the embankment. Taking off her cloak and removing her gloves, she placed them beside it and turned back to the lake. Walking slowly into the water, she watched as the blood and dirt started coming off in waves. She began cleaning out her wounds, trying to calm herself down before she said something to make matters worse. She glanced back and saw that Reyna was still glaring at her.
She shook her head. This was going to be a long journey and more than likely, one of them wouldn’t live to see the end of it. Through her bond, she heard Tuskar begin to growl at the black knight and felt a smile creep onto her face.
“Merlin, where are you?”
Chapter 6
Dog bones
I
Slowly, his mind rose from the darkness as he struggled to open his eyes. It was like having a brick lying on your brain, preventing you from lifting yourself to full awareness. He moaned and felt a hand grip his. He expected to feel excruciating pain and involuntarily winced, and was surprised when nothing happened. The hand was leathery and wrinkled; the squeeze light and without much pressure. It couldn’t be who he thought it was.
He forced his eyes open, prepared to see the ghost of his mother sitting by his side.
Instead, he found his father sitting in a chair next to his bed, hand over his. It startled him straight awake. He coughed, withdrawing his hand to cover his mouth. He sat up with an embarrassed look upon his face, afraid of appearing weak in front of the King. He couldn’t remember the older man ever touching him with affection before, had he died? Was this heaven?
The look on the old withered face was one of relief and he again questioned whether this was really his father sitting by his bed. He glanced around the room and found that they had taken him to his own chambers. Book shelves lined the walls, a stuffed owl watching him from its perch near the window. By the fireplace in the corner lay Lajeer, eyes watching him as he struggled to speak.
“Take it easy son, you’ve been shot,” the old man told him softly.
When those words were spoken, images flashed through his head. The flintlock discharging, the sulfuric smell that followed, the pain in his chest—he reached down and checked where the gaping wound should’ve been. Just above his right nipple was a circular inch of pink skin, tender to the touch. It was hairless and looked raw. He remembered hitting the ground, his somehow restored wrist shattering, and what it’d felt like when his life began slipping away.
“Who are you and what have you done with my father?” he croaked, trying to work out in his mind what was happening. Surely if you died you wouldn’t have a gaping hole in your chest for eternity, would you?
Constantine chuckled. “Glad to see they didn’t shoot your humor off as well.”
“What’s going on?” he managed, his legs stretching, testing whether the rest of him was in one piece as well.
“Must’ve got your hearing though,” the King remarked shaking his head.
“Now I know you’re not my father. He doesn’t have a sense of humor that I know of. I got that from my mother,” he snipped without thinking. The old man’s face darkened and he knew instantly that he had not died; this was not a dream. The painful memory of his mother’s death was being relived through both of their minds; the wedge that had kept the two of them divided for so many years. “I’m sorry.” He lowered his head in shame.
After a brief moment of silence, the King let out a sigh and chuckled, surprising his son once again. “I can still remember her laugh, you know. I hear it in yours and I almost turn, expecting her to be there, but then it dawns on me that she’s gone.”
“I know,” he whispered, afraid to get his father’s temper aroused.
“You don’t need to apologize son, thinking of your mother at a time like this is natural. I admit, I had her on my mind also,” Constantine comforted.
“It was my fault,” he responded, the guilt that had built up over the decade forcing tears to spring forth.
The old man’s eyes hardened and he flinched as if hit. “Don�
��t ever say that again. You are not responsible for what happened to your mother any more than the ground was for catching her, or the cleric who last treated her and found nothing wrong.” There was a pause as his father looked out the window, his face flushed.
“She had headaches, you know, for months? Started off slow at first, but in the end, she would remain locked in our chambers, the blinds closed; the slightest bit of light would send her into agonizing fits. She became a shell of the woman we loved.” He reached out and took Tristan’s hand once more and squeezed, this time with real strength, as if trying to emphasize what he was saying.
“That last day, she woke up and the headaches were gone. She felt such joy. She opened the curtains and let the sunshine in for the first time in weeks. I was too busy to enjoy the morning with her, but she insisted on going out. She wanted to watch you ride your new pony and spend some time in the sun. I think on that day and I rejoice. She didn’t die curled up in our bed in excruciating pain. She was in the sunshine, standing under a large oak, the fall breeze upon her face, spending time with one of her beloved sons. She didn’t feel any pain, she simply winked out. In my opinion, it wasn’t a bad way to go,” the King finished. It was a long-winded speech and the old man’s face was drawn with the effort it had taken.
Tears were streaking down both their cheeks.
“I thought you blamed me for not getting to her fast enough,” he choked, a hitch in his chest. The guilt he’d been harboring was tearing his heart apart with grief.
“Your riding instructor strapped your legs to the horse to prevent you from getting off and there wouldn’t been nothing you could do even if he hadn’t. She was gone before she fell,” his father told him firmly. “I never blamed you for what happened. I was jealous that you were there and I wasn’t. Affairs of the court kept me from being next to my wife in her last moments. I would give anything to go back and make a different choice; the right choice.”
