“Why am I guessing that's Lorifal?”
Feyden took a deep draw on his pipe. “Because you have actually met the dwarf.”
“Ah,” Raine said, drawing deeply and finishing her own smoke. She ground it into the dirt and rose from her seated position. “I guess I should go check on him.”
Feyden tapped the remaining tobacco from his own pipe, extinguishing it. “I will go, too,” he said without enthusiasm.
They entered the dimly lit tavern, and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. Lorifal stood in the middle of a circle of men, his fists upraised in defiance. The men surrounding him were battered and bruised, their superior numbers offering them no advantage over the stout little dwarf. The only thing bloodied on Lorifal was his knuckles.
“I tell you it was a Marrow Shard,” he said belligerently, “and killed with a single blow.”
“You're a liar, dwarf,” one man said, “Marrow Shards t’ain't been seen outside the bowels in hundreds of years. And armies can't bring ‘em down.”
Lorifal was seeing double, but he brightened as he caught sight of Raine and Feyden, or in fact, the four of them. Raine pushed her way into the circle and Feyden followed. The striking pair gave the mob pause.
“See, she's right here. Brought down that bastard by taking off his head.”
“Your words plop out like dung from my donkey.”
Lorifal took a swing at the one hurling the insult, one that would have landed solidly had Raine not caught him and redirected the blow. The crowd of men laughed but Raine sought only to soothe the riled dwarf.
“Come now, Lorifal, let's go have a drink.”
Feyden grabbed the other arm and they led him to the bar.
“You're going to have to pay for his damage.”
Lorifal started to protest the barkeep's decree. The others had done as much damage as he. But Raine pulled a few coins from her shirt and flipped them to the man, who gazed at them in astonishment. This would have paid for the entire tavern, not just the few tables and chairs that had been broken. A flask above the bar caught her eye.
“Is that an amber sting that I see?”
The barkeep followed her gaze. “Yes, it is. I must warn you though, lass, it is a dangerous drink.”
All attention was back on the trio, but this time most prominently on the beautiful woman. “Well, if you're concerned for my safety, according to this dwarf I have killed a Marrow Shard. And if you're worried about the condition of your tavern, I believe I just paid for any damage I might do.”
The barkeep shrugged. The worst that would probably happen would be she would spew the drink across his bar, which would be easy enough to clean up. He dusted the bottle off and popped the cork. Feyden eyed the dirty glass the barkeep brought forth.
“That looks none too clean,” he commented.
Raine shrugged. “An amber sting will either kill or cure all ills. There is nothing in between.”
She swirled the amber liquid about the glass, savoring the cinnamon fumes that wafted upward. Then she tossed the glass back, swallowing the entire drink in one gulp. The warmth suffused her head then spread downward, snaking throughout her torso much like desire.
Lorifal roared with delight and grabbed a nearby sconce from the wall. As required by tradition, Raine blew the fumes out, creating a funnel of flame. The temperature in the tavern went up markedly as all cheered. Feyden was watching Raine carefully to make certain she would not suffer any ill effects, but was not really surprised when she downed the drink without harm. She set the glass back down on the bar with satisfaction.
“Maybe I should try one of those,” Lorifal suggested.
“No!” Feyden and Raine said simultaneously. They both grabbed an arm and led him out through the throng that had gone from belligerent to admiring. Amazingly, Raine was still steady on her feet, far steadier than the inebriated dwarf she assisted out the door.
Idonea watched the display from the corner. She, too, had heard the commotion and followed Feyden and Raine in. She was curious to see how the woman would handle the altercation. Most with her skill and fighting prowess would have thrashed the mob. Raine merely defused the situation and moved on, as if anything else would have been beneath her.
It did not surprise her that Raine was able to down the deadly drink, nor did it surprise her she blew the fire out in the great funnel. But what Idonea did note that was missed by all others was the change of expression on Raine's face as she mimicked the dragon's fire. Her eyes, for a moment, were filled with an intense longing and flickered, almost as if they were changing color. Idonea thought perhaps she was imagining things; it was difficult to see in the dim light.
Idonea rose, ignoring the lustful stares of the drunken patrons. Suddenly it seemed uncomfortably hot in the tavern.
Raine was lying with her head on her pack near the flickering fire, enjoying the residual warmth of the amber sting. It left her with the mellowest of feelings and the heat from the flames felt good on her skin. Lorifal lay sprawled nearby, occasionally snorting and snoring in his drunken slumber. Elyara had taken one look at the fallen dwarf and decided to stay at the inn. Lorifal would not be pleasant first thing in the morning.
Feyden leaned against his own pack, gazing up at the stars. “Do you know the legend behind the amber sting?”
Her eyes had drifted closed, and now they opened but slightly. “The one about the dragons and Scinterians? A little. It is but an old myth. A story told to children around the hearth.”
“Hmm,” Feyden said, “Sometimes I wonder.”
Raine's eyes drifted back closed. She rolled over onto her side, settling in comfortably. “You should get some sleep,” was all she said.
CHAPTER 8
First light came far too early and Elyara's plan to avoid Lorifal was in vain. The dwarf was in a foul temper as the small band set out to continue their journey. The sun had moved halfway up the morning sky before he even spoke a word, and that was more of a grunt than anything else. Raine, on the other hand, appeared to suffer no ill effects from the deadly concoction she had consumed. She was mindful of Lorifal's mood, however, and walked quietly next to him, which he found comforting. Dagna hummed a gentle dvergar tune, which also seemed to soothe him.
They were making surprisingly good time considering the roughness of the terrain. They were high above the valley now and they could see fires burning below. Smoke hovered over large blackened swathes of land. Flocks of winged scavengers wheeled about in the sky above what was most likely carnage below. It was not a good sign and weighed heavily on Gunnar. The weight became crushing, however, when they found their primary path blocked by a landslide.
“This is not an accident,” Idonea said.
“No,” Gunnar said in agreement, “this is too fortunate for the Hyr'rok'kin.” He pulled his worn map from his pack
“Smuggler's Breach is too dangerous,” Bristol said. “It is a narrow passage and we will be forced almost single file.”
Lorifal was uneasy as well. “I have been through there. The walls are steep and there are ledges on both sides, perfect for an ambush.”
“Well at least we know what to expect,” Feyden said sardonically, pessimistic at the outcome but seeing little choice. Dagna nodded her agreement.
Gunnar glanced to the smoke hanging over the valley. They were running out of time. He, too, saw little choice. “Turning back will add weeks to our journey.”
Whereas before Raine's opinion had not been solicited and would most likely have been ignored, now both Gunnar and Bristol turned to her. She gazed at the blackened land below, destruction that indicated the diseased horde was spreading very quickly. Smuggler's Breach was not a good option but the alternative was worse. She was reluctant to make the decision for the others; she had no doubt of her own survival, but she was not confident of theirs.
“Lorifal is right. Smuggler's Breach is ideal for an ambush, which is most likely what the Hyr'rok'kin have arranged for us. They will line
the ledges with archers then flood the passageway with heavy infantry. The only thing we have in our favor is the passageway is narrow, meaning we cannot be flanked. And there are only so many of them that can squeeze into that space.”
“Can we pick off the archers from a distance?” Feyden asked.
Raine shook her head. “No, the twists and turns of the path make the angles impossible. Which will somewhat work in our favor because it will make hitting us a bit more difficult, even from above. We will have to pick them off as we go.”
“Who is this we?” Bristol demanded, his voice sounding a bit high even to his own ears. “That is a death mission.”
“Yes,” Raine agreed, “which is why I will go first.” She glanced to Feyden, “But I will need someone at my back.”
The elf nodded. “Of course.” He would feel safer with Raine at his back than this so-called imperial knight who was squealing like a young girl. Even Elyara was showing more fortitude than him.
“Feyden and I will go through first, back-to-back. We will move quickly and take out as many of the archers as possible. As we move, the rest of you will stay back until they charge us from the front. There will most likely be a logjam near the center of the pass at its narrowest point, and it is crucial that Feyden and I have destroyed the archers or we will be trapped there. After that, the pass opens up and if we have destroyed the threat from above, we should have a favorable defensive position.”
“Elyara and I can help,” Idonea said, “there are many spells that work at a distance as well as an arrow.”
“Good,” Raine said. “And when the mass comes crushing forward, Lorifal, Gunnar, Dagna, and Bristol will be there to meet them.”
Gunnar thought through the plan. It seemed suicidal, but it was as good as anything that he could come up with. And the fact that the woman was willing to lead the initial assault herself gave him confidence. From what he had seen, if anyone could get them through this pass, it was Raine.
Raine crouched low, creeping forward silently, Feyden at her side. She motioned for those behind her to stop. They had traveled only a short distance into the mountainside, but she could feel the presence of the Hyr'rok'kin, and she could smell them. It was an unmistakable smell to her, a combination of wet, rotted leather, sulfur, the coppery smell of blood, spoiled food, and the foulness of unwashed bodies. Her keen nose picked up another odor, this one far subtler: the smell of corrupted flesh, rotting from the bone. It was the smell of death and it made her frown. She would have preferred another Marrow Shard.
“Are they here?” Feyden whispered.
“Yes,” Raine whispered back. “Look there.”
The ledge above them appeared empty, but there was one undisciplined Shard archer who kept peering over the edge. Perhaps he was the lookout, but he wasn't a very good one.
A smile played about Raine's lips. “Watch this.”
She carefully withdrew her bow and instead of violently snapping the risers into place, she slowly and silently unfolded it. She pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back, took aim, and the next time the Shard's head appeared above the edge, she let it fly. It impaled him through the eye. He gurgled once, then fell forward off the ledge onto the ground below.
There was a commotion above them, some shuffling and the creak of armor, then numerous Shards peered over the ledge.
“We are fortunate they are so stupid,” Feyden said.
“Agreed,” Raine said, “are you ready?”
Feyden took a deep breath, then nodded his head.
“Then let's go.”
Raine stood upright and Feyden pressed his back to hers. Within seconds, the two had unleashed a hail of arrows that unerringly found their mark on the enemies above. It took the Shards a moment to even realize what was happening and in that short time span, twenty of their number had fallen.
Feyden marveled at the skill of the one at his back. Raine did not miss and fired at a rate that did not seem possible. Her movements were a blur, the steady rhythm of her attack broken only by the occasional sharp twist of her wrist which would strike an incoming arrow from the air, snapping the projectile in two. This defensive maneuver was used not only to protect herself but Feyden as well, and he had one of those random, battle-born thoughts that he would ask her to teach him the technique if he lived.
The confusion of the Shards was growing. There were only two below them, vulnerable and exposed, yet they could not seem to land an arrow no matter how many they fired. Those on the forward part of the ledge were picked off like flies, and those designated to back-fill as reinforcements were growing reluctant to move forward. The Shard regiment leaders had to turn their whips on their own troops to keep them in line.
“By the gods,” Lorifal murmured, watching the pair. Feyden's skill was a sight to behold, but he had never seen anything like the blue-eyed demon that was so coolly decimating the Shard army. He was itching to get into the fight.
“Hold,” Gunnar instructed. He, too, was anxious to move forward and was palming the hilt of his sword. But Raine had been very specific in her instructions. They were not to move into the open until the frontal assault revealed itself across the open area and was upon her and Feyden.
“There they are,” Bristol said. As one whose courage was largely determined by those around him, his fortitude had returned watching Raine. He was beginning to believe they might actually survive this course of action.
Raine also saw the movement towards the front of the cave. But when she saw what was barreling towards them, she muttered a dark curse.
Feyden looked up. The Elvish expletive Raine had uttered translated roughly to “the gods have fucked me,” a sentiment he now completely agreed with.
The creatures galloping towards them were not Shards but rather the blood-hound equivalent of Shards. Four-legged with thick spiked hides, they were dumb, blunt-tipped, ambulatory missiles hurtling towards them. It was not the blood hounds themselves that gave Raine pause but rather the speed with which they moved. They were far faster than infantry and were quickly covering the open expanse between them. They would be upon her and Feyden long before the others could move in to give them support. The number of enemies on the ledges above them had thinned considerably and Raine alternated between upper and lower targets. A Shard would fall from the ledge above them and a blood hound would go down in a tumble of flailing limbs. But that did not change the fact that the horde of beasts would soon be upon them.
Feyden was debating going to his sword but a hot wind of magical energy blew past him, staying his hand. A wall of fire appeared between the charging hounds and the pair of archers, and both Raine and Feyden watched hopefully as the fierce flames licked upward. The hope was short-lived, however, as the brutes charged through the inferno and continued unabated, except now they were on fire.
“Well that didn't quite work out,” Raine muttered, and renewed firing at the approaching hell hounds. The only good thing about the attempted spell was that it had created a lot of smoke and confusion, limiting the damage that could be done from above. It was not a tactic she would have used on purpose since it made breathing incredibly difficult and created almost as many problems as it solved. But she would use anything that was given to her in this battle.
She used the wickedly sharp edge of her bow to take out the first wave of hounds, fired a few more arrows and brought down several more, then retracted her bow with a snap and drew her swords. Feyden also drew his sword and took a ready stance, glancing back. The others were sprinting their way but they were not yet close. He and Raine would be engulfed before they could get to them.
A mass hit Feyden in his chest and he went down. Raine was fighting three hell hounds, one whose massive jaws were clamped around her right arm. Her armor kept the razor sharp teeth from penetrating, but the pressure was enormous. She hit the beast square between the eyes with the hilt of her sword, making a sizable indent and knocking him out cold. A single slice of her sword decapitated him. She tried
to fight her way towards Feyden, but four more of the beasts blocked her path.
Feyden's sword had been knocked from his grasp and he frantically felt around with his left hand for the blade. His right hand was fully occupied with the throat of the beast atop him, holding the gaping maw inches from his own throat. The beast’s foul breath steamed down upon him as the strength of the monster overcame his own and it pressed inexorably downward.
And then the beast was gone. Feyden had the briefest impression that something much larger than the blood hound had snatched it from him. He staggered to his feet, helped by Raine who handed him his sword. He staggered once more and she held him while fighting with her other hand. He turned to see what had saved him and was astonished by a gigantic wolf, one whose shoulder stood higher than the head of a man. The wolf had a blood hound in his mouth, one which he flung with great force into the rock wall beside him.
By this time, the others had caught up with them and Lorifal leaped into the fray, his battle ax swinging. Idonea had restricted her spells to those perpetrating blunt force since the incineration spell had been less than successful. Gunnar and Bristol swung their greatswords, smashing the beasts down. Dagna used a shortsword and dagger with considerable skill. Elyara had paused at the sight of the wolf king, but his presence had inspired her and she sent a swarm of stinging insects down onto the beasts.
Raine could see the front line of the Shard infantry at the far side of the expanse of the cave. But they seemed reluctant to move. Perhaps it was the fact that their archers had been utterly destroyed, or perhaps it was the fact that Fenrir had appeared and helped decimate the cavalry of hell hounds, but the hesitation grew pronounced, then grew into retreat. The figures at the far side of the cave began to disappear.
Lorifal did not chase them this time. Fenrir loped over to the far side of the cave to ensure they were departing. Raine glanced to Idonea and Elyara.
The Dragon's Lover Page 9
