Thinblade

by David A. Wells

  Anatoly was up with his axe at the ready, looking around for the threat. “What is it?” he asked quietly but intently as he surveyed their surroundings for any possible enemy.

  Alexander started pacing. He put his hand to his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. By this time everyone was up and looking worried. It was Isabel that pulled Alexander to a stop and took him by the forearms to make him look at her.

  “What is it, Alexander? What’s wrong?”

  He felt a wave of misery flood through him when he looked into her worried eyes. He could hardly make himself say the words. “It’s Erik. He’s riding into an ambush.” His voice broke from guilt and helplessness.

  He shut his eyes against the stricken look of desperate fear that filled her face. When she let go, he opened his eyes again. She stumbled back a step or two with a look of pure anguish. Alexander would have given anything in that moment to have not seen what he’d seen.

  Then Lucky was there alongside him as Isabel sat down hard on her pack and put her face in her hands. “What did you see? Was it like the experience with Phane? Tell me everything, Alexander; the details are important.”

  He nodded while he fought back the sick feeling welling up in the pit of his gut. How could he be the one to send others to their deaths? Who was he to decide? How would Isabel ever forgive him if Erik was killed on his order?

  “I was feeling a deep sense of peace.” He snorted bitterly at the thought of how the beauty all around him had been the catalyst for his clairvoyance. “Then I felt myself adrift like I did at the end of the mana fast. I wasn’t here anymore, I was everywhere at once and yet nowhere at the same time. For a few moments I just floated, trying to get a feeling for it. After a bit of a struggle, I decided I wanted to see Wizard Rangle. Everything came into sharp focus in an instant. I was floating over a road with men to either side waiting in the trees. Rangle was there and so was Truss.” Isabel looked up at that. “There was another man who looked like a giant and then there was the one who scared me. He wasn’t very big, but his colors were like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  “How do you mean?” Lucky broke in.

  “He was a wizard who was comfortable looking into the firmament without fear or restraint. The power pent up in that man was unnerving. Then I heard horses and I turned to look up the road. That’s when I saw Erik and his company of Rangers riding hard right into the ambush. Then I was back here.”

  He looked at Isabel and saw the fear in her beautiful green eyes, and his blood started to boil at the thought of the pain she would endure if her brother fell. He knew the ongoing anguish it would bring her all too well. The thought of it kindled a rage within him that he’d never felt before.

  Before anyone could speak again Jack called out, “There!” and pointed off in the distance.

  Far to the east, across the Pink Forest and many miles farther, a plume of smoke rose into the sky. Alexander felt his heart sink.

  Isabel looked toward the slowly rising smoke, then tipped her head back and closed her eyes. A moment later, Alexander heard the shrill call of a forest hawk as Slyder took to wing.

  He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms but he was responsible for the danger to her brother. He’d sent him into harm’s way. He stood struggling with his rage, fear, and despair when Anatoly cried out in warning.

  Chapter 40

  The gorledon came fast. Alexander pushed Isabel to the side. The thing crashed into him and knocked him flat on his back. It took a step and pinned him to the ground with one giant clawed foot. He felt the crushing weight of the unnatural beast press the air out of him and the edges of his vision started to close down, when Anatoly’s war axe caught the monster on the front of the leg it was using to pin Alexander to the ground.

  The creature screamed in pain and backhanded Anatoly, sending him flying toward the edge of the sheer rock face of the hillock. He hit hard on his back, then somersaulted backwards, sending him sliding over the edge of the cliff. Just before his legs went over, he pulled a dagger free and buried it into the ground, stopping his slide toward a forty-foot fall. Jack scrambled to take hold of his arm and pull him to safety.

  The gorledon lifted its foot slightly when Anatoly hit him, releasing Alexander just enough to roll quickly to the side. He found himself lying flat on his back between the feet of the giant monster. Anatoly’s axe was buried to the bone and jutted at an awkward angle from the creature’s knee. Blood flowed freely but the beast didn’t look too concerned about it.

  Everyone was scrambling. Abigail snatched up her bow, swung her quiver onto her back, and drew an arrow in one fluid movement, while backing away from the creature and circling to get a good angle. Isabel dove for her sword. Lucky snatched up his bag and got some distance from the beast even as he rummaged around for the potion he wanted. Jack was pulling Anatoly back from the brink of a deadly fall when the gorledon tipped its head back and let out a call that Alexander had heard before. It was a cross between a growl and a scream. Off in the distance, but not nearly far enough for Alexander’s taste, he heard another and then another return the call. Gorledons always hunted in threes.

  Alexander slipped his long knife free and drove it into the beast’s leg just below the knee, then pulled down hard, cutting a deep gash into its lower leg. It leapt straight back a good ten feet with a terrifying scream of pain. Alexander scrambled to his feet, flipped his long knife to his left hand, and drew his sword. Calm settled on him when he felt the weight of the blade in his hand. The balance and purpose of the thing steadied his nerves and gave him focus. His troubles faded into the distance. Right here, right now, he was in a fight and he had a blade in his hand.

  An arrow whizzed past him and sank deeply into the soft green underbelly of the beast right where its heart should be. In the distance, Alexander heard the other two beasts crashing through the forest. He made eye contact with the gorledon. In that instant, he saw the torment of the creature. It was a made thing, unnatural at the very essence of its being; an abomination created to serve the purpose of a long-dead wizard. Under different circumstances, Alexander would have felt sorry for it.

  It lurched forward, hobbled by its injuries. Alexander charged, slipping easily under the wild swing of its powerful clawed hand, and drove the point of his blade into its underbelly, through the beast and up against the inside of the hard armored scales that lined its back, but he didn’t stop there. He slipped to his left to give himself leverage. The moment the point of his sword slammed to a stop against the inside of its back plate, Alexander pulled to the side with all his might, ripping out the side of the beast as he rushed past. Viscera spilled out onto the ground. The gorledon gurgled in an attempt to call out to its hunting partners but couldn’t manage more than a sputter. It wobbled slightly for a moment before crashing to the ground on top of a pile of its own entrails.

  A moment later, Anatoly rushed up with his short sword in hand and drove his blade deep into the eye socket of the dying creature. Alexander remembered one of Anatoly’s lectures from a time that seemed very far away. “Always confirm your kill,” he had said. “Your enemy isn’t dead until you make sure he’s dead.” Alexander was glad to see that Anatoly lived what he taught.

  He was brought back to the present by the sudden appearance of two more gorledons at the base of the little hillock. Thoughts in the back of his mind mocked him. He’d found such peace here just moments ago and now he stood on a blood-soaked battlefield. Two nine-foot-tall, thousand-pound monsters that looked like the most dangerous parts of a giant gorilla and a giant lizard crammed together were rushing up the steep grassy ramp.

  Alexander set his stance to meet the charge. An arrow sailed past him and sank deep into the throat of the oncoming gorledon on the right. The beast flinched and let out a yelp of surprise but didn’t slow its charge.

  A glass vial flew past Alexander on the left and broke against the arm of the other gorledon. The caustic black contents started to eat into the flesh
with smoking and sputtering ferocity. The monster’s charge faltered as it shook its arm in a desperate attempt to escape the pain of Lucky’s acid vial. The contents of the vial worked quickly. Only moments after it shattered against the monster’s elbow, it ate through the flesh and down to the bone. The beast howled in pain. The bone melted through and its arm flopped over at a sickeningly unnatural angle. Still the acid ate into its flesh until the forearm of the monster broke free and thudded to the ground, smoldering and sputtering as the caustic magical liquid continued to do its ugly work. The beast stopped in shock, pain, and confusion and rammed the stub of its arm into the ground in a frantic effort to stop the burning pain. When that didn’t work, it turned and ran off into the trees, howling in pain and fear.

  The other gorledon wasn’t deterred, even when a second arrow from Abigail’s bow found its mark. Anatoly came up on Alexander’s left and Isabel on his right. The beast leapt impossibly high into the air in an arc that would bring it down right on top of Alexander. He dove forward under the deadly clawed feet and the creature passed overhead. He tried to tuck and roll, but the thing’s heavy tail came down hard on his back and sent him sprawling face first onto the ground.

  Anatoly leveled a mighty swing with his war axe but the gorledon saw it coming and turned its back to the blade, presenting its hard armored scales to take the brunt of the blow. The axe glanced off without so much as a scratch. Its turn brought it around to face Isabel. She darted in and stabbed into its softer, bright green underbelly. Her blade sank several inches before she withdrew and dodged the first swipe of the creature’s heavy clawed hand. She wasn’t able to avoid the back of its hand, though; it came around and knocked her flat.

  Alexander scrambled to his feet to rejoin the battle. Anatoly spun his axe to use the long sharp spike on the back and swung again. This time the creature didn’t see the attack coming and the spike drove through the softer scales on the beast’s side. It flinched in shock and surprise, freeing the spike from its side in the process. At the same time, Abigail sank another arrow into its chest. It bellowed and lowered its head toward Abigail in preparation for a charge. Jack threw a knife with all his might. It flew true and buried itself into the side of the gorledon’s neck. The creature flinched again and turned to face Jack. Alexander took the opportunity to slip around its other side and slice deeply into the flesh of its thigh. It wheeled back toward Alexander with a wild but powerful swing that passed only inches over his head, then came around with its other hand and caught him full in the chest with its oversized claws.

  Alexander sailed back a dozen feet and landed flat on his back. The world spun. Blackness threatened to close in on him and he couldn’t get his breath. He felt like a crushing weight was pressing down on his chest. As he struggled to breathe, he heard the beast roar again. He looked down at his chest and saw several deep gashes through his leather armor filling with bright red blood. He still couldn’t draw breath. In a flash of panic, he reached into the little potion pouch Lucky had given him and pulled out the healing draught. He fought with the stopper; his hands slick with blood. Blackness was closing in. Finally, after what seemed like an hour of struggling, he got the vial open and frantically drank the contents. He was suffocating and his vision was going dark, yet he managed to smear a large dollop of healing salve into the wounds on his chest before darkness closed in and took him completely. For a moment, he felt like he was drifting. There was pain and panic all around, then the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness claimed him.

  He woke late in the day. Isabel was sitting next to him, holding his hand. The first thing he noticed after seeing her was that he was breathing again, but when he tried to take a full breath, he felt a stab of pain in his chest. He groaned softly.

  “He’s awake,” she called out.

  Lucky came up next to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Lie still, you took quite a hit. Your chest is still healing, so try to breathe shallowly.” Lucky smiled down at him with a look of relief. “I feared the worst when you went down. It’s good to see you on the mend.”

  Alexander gingerly looked around to see how the battle had turned out. The second gorledon was dead with an arrow buried to the feathers into its throat and sticking out the top of its head. Anatoly was lying flat on his back, looking over at Alexander. He looked to be under Lucky’s care as well. Abigail was sitting next to him and gave Alexander a smile of relief and concern. Anatoly had dried blood on his lips and looked almost as badly beaten up as Alexander.

  “Glad to see you awake. I was worried there for a few minutes, after I woke up, that is,” Anatoly said softly and somewhat weakly.

  “Glad to be awake. What happened?” Alexander asked.

  Isabel recounted the rest of the fight while Lucky looked at the wounds on Alexander’s chest.

  “After you went down, Anatoly took out its other leg, which put the thing on its knees but not before it backhanded him in the chest again. I tried to stab it again but it just batted me out of the way like a rag doll. Since it couldn’t get up, Abigail stayed just out of range and picked her shot. When it tipped its head back to roar in anger, she put an arrow neatly through its brain. Lucky gave Anatoly a potion that put him out for a few hours and we’ve all been waiting and worrying about the two of you since.”

  The thought slammed into Alexander like a lightning bolt. He felt the terrible dread flood into him again and almost lost the courage to ask. “What about Erik? Did Slyder see if he escaped?”

  Isabel nodded with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness. “He survived and made it through with over half his force. It looked like almost thirty Rangers fell in the fight, mostly from the liquid fire tossed into their midst by that wizard. I got the impression from the looks of things that Erik didn’t stop to engage but just pushed through like you told him to.” She stopped and looked down for a moment before continuing. Alexander knew the bad news was coming. “They captured two Rangers who were badly burned in the fight. Truss tortured them for a few minutes before he killed them.” She looked angry and sad at the same time.

  “I knew them both. They were good men,” she whispered.

  Alexander closed his eyes and gently squeezed her hand. “I wish I’d gone after Truss at Flat Top Rock. It was a mistake to let him go.”

  It was Anatoly who answered him. “That may be, Alexander, but that doesn’t make you responsible for his actions. His free will is all his own and his choices are his to answer for. Don’t fall into the trap of taking on the burden of responsibility for the actions of others, particularly others who have no conscience.”

  Alexander looked over at his old mentor. “Thirty men are dead on my order,” he whispered as if saying it aloud proved his guilt.

  Anatoly fixed him with his stern eyes and nodded slowly and deliberately. “That is the burden of command in war and this is only the beginning. There will be many more that die by your command before this is over. Just know that the alternative is far worse. At least those men died in service to life and liberty. If Phane gets his way, countless more will suffer and die to please his ego and his lust for power.”

  Alexander closed his eyes again and tried to push away the thought of thirty families grieving the loss of their sons, brothers, and husbands. He wanted to cry out. He wanted to shake the very maker of the world until he explained how he could permit such evil to even exist. The idea of wanton murder and premeditated war for the sake of power alone was so alien to Alexander that he wondered how Phane could even be of the same species.

  Alexander’s childhood was so calm and peaceful, even blessedly boring. He had imagined being a great warrior fighting in the battles he read about in his studies. It always seemed so glorious. The pain of the wound in his chest wasn’t glorious and the heartache he felt at the loss of thirty good men mocked the entire idea of glory in war. This was just sad and ugly. It made him hurt at the very root of his soul.

  “Anatoly’s right, Alexander,” Isabel said. “You didn
’t send those men into harm’s way out of a selfish desire for power, and not one went against his will. Erik stood before a whole battalion and asked for volunteers. Every last one of those men knew the purpose of the mission and the risks before they stepped forward. And Erik turned away a hundred more than he needed.”

  Isabel’s words were all very reasonable and they were true as far as they went, but they didn’t diminish the anguish of life lost for nothing but the lust for power. It was all so senseless. A part of Alexander simply couldn’t grasp the concept of destroying other people’s precious lives to further personal ambition. It just didn’t make sense to him that some people were so broken and twisted inside that they could do such a thing, and yet it was so terrifyingly real.

  He’d read stories about such evil but they were all very safe and cozy, tucked away on the page where they couldn’t hurt anyone. In the past several weeks, he’d seen evil at work firsthand. Phane hunted him at a distance simply for being a potential threat to his ambitions. Truss abducted Isabel out of his desire to possess her and the value she represented as bait.

  Alexander lay there holding Isabel’s hand and tried to understand the kind of totally self-absorbed, self-important narcissism that must poison the souls of such people in order to motivate them to sever all ties with civil existence and embrace the savage within. What a cold and lonely way to live. What an empty and hateful way to see the world. How they must fear everyone else in the blindly selfish belief that others surely must see the world in the same way.