Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology

by Martin Hengst

  Faarsh tossed the bundle at Shreth's feet and he kicked it open with an agile toe. Steel gleamed in the firelight. Weapons from the ship's hold. If they'd survived the wreck, there had to be more of the ship further down the coast. Perhaps other survivors.

  Shreth glared at him, and Royce forced himself to keep an impassive mask. If he showed any sign of guilt now, the Shyraan would assume he was lying about the Sirens and kill them both. He wanted to salvage the relationship if at all possible. The Sirens had been a thorn in the side of the Imperium for a long time. They'd harried countless ships crossing the Ebon Sea, drawing them off course, or worse.

  "What say you, human?" Shreth peered at Royce. The question hung pregnant in the thick jungle air.

  "No more talk!" Hsaan roared.

  The surprise of the attack was betrayed by the bunching of the thick muscles of Hsaan's thighs. Royce saw him coil, quickly deduced the weight of the massive body, and ducked under the attack with a boost of speed granted by the Quintessential Sphere.

  Hsaan flew over the empty air where Royce had been. He spun in the air, an act of feline grace that no human could hope to match, and landed on the balls of his feet, ready to attack again. Shreth spat something in their native tongue, but Royce paid him no heed. With the tip of his foot, he flipped a sword from the open bundle into the air and caught the hilt with a single deft motion.

  Pain flashed through him, and it was reassuring. Skin-to-steel contact could kill a Quintessentialist. They'd burn just for having the audacity to lift a blade. For Royce, the pain was a reminder of his connection to the Sphere. The physical price that was paid for his miraculous fighting abilities.

  ~

  This was the end, Royce knew. The realization didn't come to him with a sense of panic, just the knowledge that he had a decision to make. He had enough strength, enough power from the Quintessential Sphere, to save one of them. He could save himself, or he could save Torus, but he couldn't save them both. It wasn't even a decision, really. Royce would welcome death when it came, the last honor of a true warrior. Torus would live to tell of his Captain's fall.

  Hsaan and Faarsh closed on him, claws like daggers, waiting to rend flesh and taste his blood. Shreth, who had been so close to being reasonable, succumbed to the thirst for combat last. But he had succumbed, Royce knew, and could no longer be considered a potential ally. It was three against one and Royce knew how it would play out. The Shyraan hesitated, their eyes flicking up and down the length of the blade.

  Royce would have preferred a longer sword, a two-handed great blade that would have cleaved the three of them in half at a blow. The blade he held now was barely three feet long, but it would have to do. Slipping into the Quintessential Sphere, he was comforted by the silver-white colors of the Ethereal Realm. Living memory flowed through him, conquests of wars long past. His heart quickened and he embraced the power that came to him.

  The Shyraan attacked at once, falling on him in a chaotic mass of flashing claws and slavering fangs. He struck with the broad side of the sword, knocking Hsaan's legs out from under him and darting through the hole in their ranks. His legs still pained him greatly, but not enough to rip apart his concentration and drag him from his commune with the Sphere.

  "Torus, when you hit the ground, RUN!" he roared, and swung the sword from his shoulder, severing the thick vine that held the cage aloft. There was a soft scraping as the vine that held the cage whipped around the trunk of the tree, then a crash as the cage hit the ground, the sides splintering from the impact.

  Torus helped, hammering his massive shoulder into the wall of the cage and sending it exploding outward across the clearing. It slammed into Faarsh, sending her sprawling, and both Shreth and Hsaan were briefly distracted by her fall.

  "Captain?" Torus looked pained and stubborn. Royce pierced him with a glance.

  "Run, Lieutenant. NOW!"

  To his credit, Torus took off at a run, though the slight limp in his gait told Royce that the ankle was still bothering him. Even so, it wasn't slowing him much, and Royce would be able to buy him a sizable head start if he could keep the attention of all three of the Shyraan on him.

  He pressed the attack, feinting toward Faarsh, who had yet to recover her footing. Sensing the threat to their weakest, Shreth and Hsaan turned on Royce, striking out with their claws.

  Sword clashed against claw, ringing out through the jungle and startling small animals into flight. Hsaan ducked low, trying to tackle Royce around the middle and drag him to the ground. Royce couldn't reverse the blade in time, so he struck the massive cat behind the ear with the end of the hilt. A thud echoed through the clearing. and Hsaan crumpled at Royce's feet.

  He hoped he hadn't killed the Shyraan. He hoped more that somewhere, through the haze of battle, Shreth had recognized that he wasn't fighting to kill. The flat of the blade, the butt of the hilt. These were strikes to disable, not to maim and destroy. There was still hope for an alliance here, in a world where many still viewed humanity as a nuisance or a threat.

  Faarsh was on her feet again, and Royce was wary. She was smaller and faster than her male counterparts. She darted in before Royce could block her, and ribbons of fire blossomed across his left shoulder. He flexed the muscle there. It was painful, but not debilitating. Even so, she'd gotten the drop on him and wasn't likely to give up now. Faarsh had drawn first blood and there was a maniacal gleam in her eye that Royce didn't care for in the slightest.

  She tried to slip inside his reach again, but he was ready for her. He kicked out hard, his bare foot connecting with the warm, well-muscled side of her body. Her fur was soft against the roughness of his feet, but he kicked as hard as he could, grunting as he felt something crack. She mewled in pain and heaved over, rolling across the clearing.

  Shreth wasted no time in pressing his attack. He swiped at Royce, and Royce had to throw himself backward to avoid having his throat torn out by the black claws that cut the air mere inches from his skin. His left leg buckled and Royce felt himself start to fall. Shreth wouldn't give him any respite. If Royce fell now, he was dead.

  Instead of trying to check his momentum, Royce gripped the sword tightly and lowered his shoulder, hitting the ground with it first, then rolling upright, back onto his screaming legs. Silver-white sparkles danced in his vision as his connection with the Quintessential Sphere collapsed. The pain was just too much. Now he was nothing more than a frail human doing battle against a much stronger, much larger foe.

  "I don't want to kill anyone," Royce grunted, backing away from the advancing Shyraan. "We almost came to an accord before Hsaan returned."

  "You cannot leave this place, human. You've killed my brother and injured my mate. I will have your head as vengeance."

  Royce's eyes flicked to Hsaan, then to Faarsh. He didn't think he'd killed Hsaan, but it was impossible to tell. Faarsh was still crumpled in a ball on the other side of the fire. He knew he'd broken one of her ribs. With a little luck, it wouldn't have punctured the lung and she would recover with a bit of rest. He'd known this was going to be the end when he let Torus free. Hopefully, his death would buy the Lieutenant some time.

  Holding the blade out in front of him, Royce laid it flat in an old soldier's salute. Then he dropped it. The sword hit the ground with a dull ring. Shreth peered at him, his head cocked to one side.

  "Come and kill me then," Royce said with a shrug, wincing as the movement pulled on the wound that Faarsh had inflicted on his shoulder. "I was only defending myself. We can still be allies, Shreth. Stand down and talk to me."

  The Shyraan's ears flicked back and forth. Royce wasn't sure if it was indecision or another sign of agitation. Either way, he'd laid his entire hand on the table. If Shreth attacked him now, he'd have no way to defend himself.

  Before Shreth could answer, a dark blur crashed through the underbrush at the edge of the clearing. Torus caught the Shyraan around the waist, as Hsaan had meant to do to Royce, and threw him to the ground, following with the we
ight of his own body. They landed with Torus atop the larger creature. He drew back a massive fist and prepared to strike.

  "Torus! Hold!"

  The man's light amber eyes flicked from the Captain to Shreth and back again. "Sir?"

  "You heard me, Lieutenant. I appreciate your timely arrival. Now kindly remove yourself from our new ally."

  "Ally?" Torus scoffed. "He was about to kill you. What about the others?"

  "I dealt with them, didn't I?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "Torus, do I need to order you to get up?"

  The Lieutenants jaw clapped shut. He got up and stood to the side, his body rigid. Torus would be ready to finish the fight at a moment's notice, and if things didn't go as Royce was expecting, he'd gladly have Torus's help.

  Royce stepped around the fire and stood over Shreth, still flat on his back. He offered his hand. Although the Shyraan took several moments to react to the gesture, he finally offered Royce his hand. The Captain pulled him up, even though the motion sent pain coursing through his legs.

  "Our seconds are fervently loyal to us, Shreth. Hsaan to you, and Torus to me. I can overlook the zealousness with which Hsaan protected you and your people. Can you do the same?"

  Shreth combed the fur on his chin with claws that were still extended. The slit eyes peered at him, then flicked to Hsaan, who was stirring in the dirt, and Faarsh, who had gotten unsteadily to her feet. His eyes returned to Royce's face and the Shyraan nodded slowly.

  "We have long been told that humans are small, treacherous things that serve the will of the Sirens. You fought with honor, even when attacked unjustly. Perhaps you may yet be worthy allies of the Shyraan."

  "Will Hsaan adhere to you decision?"

  "Will Torus adhere to yours?"

  "I fought only to protect the Captain," Torus said, walking slowly toward the awake and alert Hsaan. The Lieutenant offered a hand to Hsaan, mimicking the gesture Royce had made moments before. "Hsaan fought to protect you and your mate. We're not that different."

  Hsaan gave Torus a wary glance through hooded eyelids, but took the offered hand and stood up. "What stops either of us from committing more treachery?" he asked.

  "Trust," Royce answered firmly. "Torus, will you see to Faarsh's wounds? I'm afraid I've broken her rib, unintentional though it was." He turned to Shreth. "Trust is earned, not given. I don't mind putting in the work to that end, but I'd like your word that I'm not going to end up with claws in my back or fangs ripping out my throat."

  Shreth crossed both arms over his wide chest and bowed from the waist.

  "You have my word, Royce, that no harm will come to you or Torus from the Shyraan for as long as we survive."

  "Survive? What do you mean?"

  "You may not be emissaries of the Sirens, Royce, but there are assassins hunting us even now." He waved a hand, indicating himself, Hsaan, and Faarsh. "Had you killed us, they'd likely have left you alone. After all, you'd have saved them a considerable amount of work. As allies, you'll be marked for death as accomplices."

  "How long, do you think, before the assassins find us?"

  "Not long, I'm afraid." Shreth extended his fore claw and pointed to a pair of muted glowing eyes in the underbrush beyond the fire. "They're already here."

  ~

  "Don't make any sudden movements," Shreth cautioned. "They're drawn to movement. Right now, I suspect they're more interested in the fire than with us, but that will change as soon as we start acting like prey."

  "What are they?"

  "The Shyraan call them 'Grobins', they are--"

  "Sea gnomes," Royce interrupted. "Loyal to the Sirens. Not particularly smart, but tenacious, sadistic, and dangerous in large numbers."

  Shreth's whiskers twitched. "You've fought Grobins before."

  "Often," Royce nodded. "We're forever running them out of our harbors and seaports. Torus and I were bringing supplies to a settlement that's under siege by an entire colony of the little buggers. How many of them are hunting you? Er, us?"

  "About two dozen."

  Royce whistled through his teeth. A handful of Grobins was bad. Ten could tear through a platoon of infantry in the time it took them to get into formation. He didn't want to think about what two dozen could do. They were little better than semi-sentient, bipedal piranha. Not as smart as their land-dwelling cousins, but twice as savage. He peered at the set of eyes watching them from the undergrowth.

  "So the question is, are we being watched by a lone scout? Or are the rest of them out in the brush, waiting for us to make a move?"

  "Do you enjoy games of chance, Royce?"

  "I prefer to make my own luck." Royce's eyes were still on the underbrush. It was unusual for Grobins to scout alone. They usually traveled in pairs if they broke away from the main body. The single Grobin at the edge of the clearing was just visible enough to be noticed, which meant...

  A cracking twig in the jungle behind him sounded loud as cannon fire. Royce dropped to his knees, ignoring the searing pain that streaked up his legs and seemed to settle around his hips like a leaden belt. The brush was shaking on all sides. While they'd been preoccupied with the lone scout, the rest of the Grobins had surrounded them. Royce knelt quickly and rifled through the bundle that Faarsh had brought into the clearing. He found a sturdy studded mace with a long, leather wrapped handle. It wasn't Torus's preferred weapon, but he'd be able to use it effectively.

  "Lieutenant!" Royce barked, tossing the weapon to him. Torus caught it and looped the leather throng around his wrist. He gave the weapon a tentative swing. His eyes took on a glittering excitement.

  "Die with honor, Captain." Royce knew a blessing when he heard one, but he wasn't ready to count them out just yet. Faarsh wouldn't be able to fight, but the four of them might be able to defend themselves adequately against the horde. He slipped into Sphere sight, taking comfort in the silver-white shapes that shimmered into view atop the physical world. Their negotiation had given him enough of a break for his body and mind to be able to channel the forces of the Ethereal Realm. That could make all the difference in the world. He could see the Grobins clearly now, the living memory of the jungle a neutral, translucent gray. The sea gnomes were black shadows huddled among the low branches. His quick tally gave him numbers almost the same as Shreth's. Twenty strong, they were ready to attack.

  As if his realization were the impetus for their action, the Grobins spilled into the clearing, giving the fire a wide berth. Grobins were mostly nocturnal, with huge black eyes that took up nearly half their heads. Under the eyes, two tiny nose slits sat above a mouth full of three rows of jagged, blade-sharp teeth. Their blue-gray skin was durable and thick, providing them with a natural coat of armor that Royce would have gladly taken in their stead.

  The Grobins, sensing Faarsh's weakness, turned on her, running as fast as their stumpy little legs would carry them. Like the Shyraan, the Grobin's fingers were tipped with black claws, though theirs lacked the impressive reach of the huge cat-like warriors. The foremost runner leapt at Torus with a hiss, its mouth opened wide and its long black tongue trailing from the side of its mouth like a streamer. It threw both hands and feet forward, angling finger and toe claws to strike Torus.

  Torus gripped the mace with both hands, swinging it as if he was felling a tree. The spiked head of the weapon caught the Grobin under the arm and crushed an entire side of its rib cage. It let out a piteous squeal and blood spurted from its open mouth. The crunch that accompanied the blow told Royce that they'd need not worry about that particular participant in this impromptu battle. The mortally wounded Grobin landed in the dirt, tumbling end over end until it ended up in a crumpled heap. Royce saw Torus glance at it, then turn his attention back to the battle.

  Upon seeing that the wounded Faarsh was protected by a more than capable champion, the Grobins shifted direction, instead threatening Hsaan and Shreth, who were standing shoulder to shoulder near the edge of the fire. The sea gnomes moved like a wave rushing in to
shore. The roar Shreth and his brother produced made the hairs on Royce's neck stand on end. He'd been through many battles and hunted more game than he cared to remember. That roar was a predator's challenge, the last warning to those who might yet turn away from the certain death they approached.

  Unfazed by the challenge, the Grobins swept toward the brothers, threatening to overwhelm them. Shreth and Hsaan struck out with sharp claws, rending flesh and exposing pink-stained expanses of yellowish bone. Blood flowed freely, seeping into the jungle floor and turning the dirt black where they stood. Royce knew from experience that it would take a long time for plants to retake any ground where the Grobins spilled blood. Such was the potency of their blood.

  Though Hsaan and Shreth fought valiantly, they were being pushed nearer and nearer to the fire that still crackled in the center of the clearing. They got so near to the leaping flames that both brothers had to tuck their tails up along their spines to keep them from catching fire. Injured Grobins retreated to the rear of their wave to recover while fresh fighters swelled to the front. Two or three Grobins had fallen during the battle, adding their numbers to the one that Torus had killed. It wasn't enough. There were still too many of them.

  Royce waded into the fray, swinging his sword about waist high and putting as much strength as he could muster behind the blow. The sharp steel bit into the necks of three Grobins clustered close together and severed their heads from their bodies. The heads rolled backward through the attackers, and other Grobins leapt away from them as if the heads were cursed with the failure that had ended their lives. Bodies bereft of heads continued forward a few paces before they twitched and fell over.

  Torus had joined the battle from the other side, and he and Royce were effectively closing pincers on the attackers, driving them together and into the waiting claws of the Shyraan, who were disemboweling and dismembering Grobins as fast as they could. A particularly vicious Grobin sank his teeth into the meaty part of Shreth's thigh, sending them both sprawling into the fire. They both howled in pain and rage. Shreth beat at the flames that spread to his fur and then hefted the offending Grobin over his head. With a savage twist, the hunter shattered the little creature's spine and tossed it aside. He rejoined Hsaan, but Royce knew he was in dire shape. A large chunk of flesh was missing from his thigh and his blood matted the fur down the length of the leg.