by Rick Dearman
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Adderand slowly raised his head and looked about. His backpack lay scattered about on the ground and the sword was on the ground next to him. Blood was caked onto his head and his ribs were on fire. I dawned on him with a shock that he could see. It was pitch black and he could see as if it were brightest noon.
Adderand sat down tenderly. It seemed that the sword was defiantly magic. He had heard many stories of magic swords. Just his luck he picked up a cursed sword, it seemed he could only see at night or in the darkness. This boon was given at the expense of seeing in daylight.
As he thought about this a smile came to his face, cracking the dried blood that covered his cheek. Yes, this had definite advantages.
Adderand moved gingerly gathering his things and picked up the sword; Garmarth the arrogant fool had left it behind. He moved off into the darkness. It was easy to pick up the Garmarth’s trail. The caves were only a short distance from the road. Garmarth had obviously been waiting for them.
I have got to get that scroll case back. Pain racked him with each step. He had to stop and strap his ribs up as tight as he could with what was left of his tunic. He'd just finished when the heavens opened and rain started to fall.
“Bugger.” Adderand shook his head weakly, and stood up trudging forward down the road.
Garmarth would move quickly but hopefully wouldn’t leave the road. In that case he didn’t need to worry about the rain erasing the trail. With luck Garmarth would make camp and give Adderand a chance to catch-up.
The pain from his ribs eased by bandages, he managed a half run, half walk. The pace soon tired him and he fell back to walking. Each gasp for breath caused him agony. The rain fell slowly but persistently making everything wet or muddy. His clothes clung to him and he felt a chill.
Adderand’s mood was foul and the rain wasn’t making it any better. He grimaced as he thought of Garmarth; he would be camped now, maybe with a fire to keep him warm.
“I’m coming to get ye,” Adderand muttered.
All night the rain continued and so did he. Trudging through the mud Adderand knew dawn approached because he felt pain in his eyes, his sight slowly diminishing.
He decided to rest and found a large tree off the road he could shelter under. The day was just as miserable as the night. The rain stopped at midday but no matter how he arranged himself Adderand was drenched and cold.
When night finally came Adderand again was still tired. He walked doggedly down the road constantly scanning both sides of the road for Garmarth’s camp. He'd only been travelling an hour when he came across it.
Garmarth was gone but Adderand found Seevan’s backpack ripped and half burned in the remains of the campfire. Garmarth had searched the bag for secret pockets he supposed.
Dropping the soggy backpack back into the ashes Adderand started up the road again. In the mud he could see tracks where Garmarth had mounted his horse.
He had no way of knowing how long Garmarth had stayed but Adderand hoped that he’d waited out the storm. There would still be a chance of catching up.
Eventually Adderand saw lights ahead. The light spilt from the houses of a town; he picked up his pace. He wanted to make sure he found Garmarth before daybreak.
The place had the look of a tavern or inn. It was situated at the entrance of the town and almost the first building he came to. He walked to a window and peered inside. Candles and a fireplace lighted the room. The candles were not a problem but the fire made his eyes water with pain.
He squinted and scanned the faces of the men inside. There were five in the small room. They were all gathered around the table playing berac, a dice game often played in these regions. Garmarth was playing as well.
He was tall with blond hair and a large gold earring. In a well-worn scabbard Garmarth carried a sabre.
Adderand looked around and spotted a horse trough across the muddy road. A huge grin spread across his face as he saw the bucket hanging next to the trough. He walked across the street and filled the bucket with water.
He kept his head down as he entered the inn. Marching directly to the fire he flung the water over the cheery flames. The room instantly became gloomy, but to Adderand it was bright.
He pulled out his sword and dagger and addressed Garmarth.
“Well, hello Garmarth. I guess you thought I was joking when I said I was goina to kill ye. I told you but you dinna listen.”
All of the men looked at him with confusion in the dim light of the candles, except for Garmarth, who sat back on his chair and smiled.
“Old man you really are a treat. I can’t believe you followed me all this way, knowing I’ll kill you. You weren’t a match for me in the pits and your no match for me now. I’ll chop you into little pieces and feed the meat to the kitchen rats.”
“I dinna think you’ll kill me that easily” Adderand addressed the others. “The rest of ye if ye leave now then I’m willing to allow ye to live.”
“Stop right there. I’ll not have any trouble in my place,” came a voice from behind Adderand.
Adderand turned so he could see both the table and the man behind the counter. The barman was pointing a large crossbow at him.
“I’m going to tell you this slowly. I don’t like having things pointed at me. So if ye place that crossbow on the table then I’ll let ye live as well.”
“Your going to kill us all are you?” asked one of the berac players.
“I’m only here to kill him,” replied Adderand. “He is a thief and a traitor but I’ll kill anyone who sides with him.”
Adderand could sense the barman positioning himself to get a better shot.
Adderand moved swiftly. He threw a dagger at the barman as he ran toward the table. Hurling himself at Garmarth. The table collapsed as the men fell onto it, the money and gems spilling onto the floor. Garmarth was bowled over backward but Adderand was unable to take advantage because of the pain in his side. Adderand ribs screamed in agony.
Garmarth doubled his fists and punched down on to the top of Adderand’s head. Dazed Adderand stood and staggered back. Garmarth gained his feet quickly and pulled his sabre.
“Foolish old man. You should have taken the sword and sold it. Now you are going to die at the hands of Garmarth. You never had to face me in the pits, but now you'll die.”
“Bollocks,” said Adderand as he rushed Garmarth.
He knew he needed to end this fight quickly. Garmarth was a braggart, but Adderand had seen him fight in the pits. Garmarth was good because he had lived. Everyone who lived through the pit was good. Adderand knew he didn’t have the strength for a prolonged fight. But he'd risked his life so often it held no fear for him. If he was going to die so be it.
Garmarth swung the sabre savagely back and forth through the air. Adderand jabbed with his own sword. The sabre was a curved weapon and not made for the thrusting, designed for use from a horse it didn’t have thickness of his own blade. Also Adderand had an advantage as he could use both point and two edges.
The other men began to retreat from the building as the two swordsmen circled each other in the dim light. Adderand waited for the attack allowing his sword to drop slightly and exaggerating the weakness caused by his ribs. Garmarth rushed forward swinging the sabre toward Adderand’s head.
Adderand stepped back and ducked down. He plunged his sword into Garmarth’s thigh as the sabre passed over his head. Garmarth tried to jump backward. Blood streamed from his leg. Adderand stepped forward to push his sword into Garmarth’s stomach.
Garmarth moved left and brought his sword around feinting at Adderand’s right side. The blood streamed from Garmarth’s leg and Adderand hoped this would at least even the odds a little.
Garmarth smiled grimly and swept the sabre back and forth in front of him. The two men sized each other up looking for an opening. Suddenly Garmarth stumbled on a chair in the dim light and Adderand leaped in to take advantage.
&nb
sp; Garmarth dropped down and deflected the blow with his sabre and using his other fist punched Adderand hard in the ribcage. Adderand involuntarily dropped his sword and stumbled backward. His back slammed against the bar. He looked up and watched Garmarth pick up the magic sword from the floor.
“Well, which sword shall I use? How do you want to die old man?”
Adderand looked around desperately. Across the bar was the body of the barman; Adderand’s dagger protruded from the throat. He looked back to Garmarth who was smiling and silently urging him to go for the dagger. He knew he’d never make it. At the barman’s foot Adderand saw a metallic gleam.
Adderand rolled over the bar and grabbed the barman’s still cocked crossbow. He pointed it and pulled the trigger before Garmarth could even register the change in fortunes.
Garmarth gave him a confused look. Blood erupting from his mouth he collapsed on the floor the crossbow bolt buried deep in his chest.
Adderand walked over to the body. He squatted down and cleaned his sword. He pulled the scroll case from Garmarth’s belt. Walking back behind the bar he pulled himself a pint of ale.
This sword had afflicted him with a curse, but he was determined to deliver the plans and get his pardon. He was getting older; soon he wouldn’t be able to fight. Somehow after Seevan’s death the list didn’t seem as important as it used to. Maybe revenge wasn’t a reason to live. Maybe he could retire once he got his pardon and his fortune. Maybe he could let the rest of the men on the list live.
As he looked over the carnage of the blood soaked room he began to laugh.
Coming in 2011. Two new feature length novels, two incredible new fantasy series.
A new series: Frontiersman
The civil war is over and the rebellion lost. Cheveyo the half-breed is travelling to the frontier to make a new life. He has two pure-bred horses and dreams of creating a ranch and a home. But in the borderlands Cheveyo discovers a murdered family and using his skill and training he tracks down the killers to take justice. But these killers are just a few of the gang working for the man they call "Big Red". Cheveyo soon discovers crossing "Big Red" is life threatening, and it will take all of his skills to just remain alive in the hellish frontier.
A new series: The Librarian
Book One: Ignition
The City of Ettengard is under siege. The Library has been given an impossible mission, the Head Librarian and the Chief Mage have been poisoned. Ranperen and Tantia the young students must make their way across a war torn country to find a cure and to save the library from destruction. Inside the city the clashes between the thieves guild and the beggars are becoming bloodier as the war causes unrest and rebellion. And a mysterious group of conspirators are trying to bring back the glory days of the defeated and evil Empire.
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