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 clo
sed 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.
He wondered about the voice of conscience. It spoke to him often, that little voice in the back of his mind offering guidance about the morality of his choices. He always tried to listen. He knew the consequences of ignoring it. Alexander had never done anything that he considered evil, but he’d been less than kind to Abigail a time or two when they were children. The consequences were always a nagging feeling of remorse and guilt for mistreating her.
He wondered if evil people were haunted by the voice of their conscience or if they’d taught themselves to ignore it because it was an obstacle to their ambitions. Or worse yet, what if they simply didn’t have that quiet, gentle voice of moral clarity at all? How could you reason with a person who didn’t have a conscience? How could you ever trust him? How could you even turn your back on such a person?
What a cruel prank to play on the world to make a place where life and liberty were so immeasurably precious and then allow evil to exist. The very presence of which places an untenable moral burden on the innocent. They have a duty to themselves to protect their lives, liberty, and property, yet they have an obligation to their conscience to withhold violence against evil except in defense.
Alexander struggled with the question for a time before settling on his answer. He decided that evil had a right to exist until it acted to harm others. Once evil took life, liberty, or property from an innocent person, it forfeited the right to expect its life, liberty, or property to be respected.
He almost laughed when the words of the Old Reishi Law sprang into his mind: You have a right to your life because you are alive. You have a right to your liberty because you have free will. You have a right to your property because it is the product of your labor. In violating the natural rights of another, you forfeit your own.
Clearly, he was not the first to struggle with th
is question. Others had come to the same rational conclusion that he had, and they’d used it to build the greatest civilization ever seen on the Seven Isles. And that civilization had fallen only when it violated its own law. Perhaps the Old Law truly was a natural law, like gravity, with its own built-in enforcement mechanism that governed the fate of human society. Perhaps that was the balance to evil built into the world by its maker. Societies that respected the life, liberty, and property of all citizens would thrive and prosper, while those that allowed a tyrant or ruling class to abuse life, liberty, or property would fail to the detriment of all.
When he opened his eyes again it was nearing dusk. He realized that he’d dozed off again. Anatoly was sitting up and eating some camp stew Lucky had made over a little fire. Alexander slowly and gently took a breath. His chest was a bit tight but he could breathe deeply again. Lucky’s healing potion was powerful magic. It had taken the better part of the afternoon but Alexander’s chest was just about mended. Isabel noticed that he was awake and brought his pack over for him to lean against and helped him sit up. Abigail brought him a bowl of steaming hot stew, which he took gratefully. He ate slowly, even though his stomach was growling with hunger. After dinner he simply sat for a few minutes, looking out over the Pink Forest while the light of day faded. It was a beautiful place even with the two dead gorledons sprawled out not far from their fire.
Once his stomach was full, his nerves calmed, and his wounds mended, Alexander’s mind began to wander back to the tasks that lay before him.
“I suspect they know we weren’t with Erik,” he said to no one in particular.
Anatoly nodded without a word.
Jack spoke softly, “Those Rangers were probably tortured for information about our plans.”
Isabel nodded and looked down sadly. “It’s a good bet they know we’re coming through the forest on foot, but they won’t know where or when. We still have a good chance of slipping past them, especially with Slyder keeping watch for us.”
“It looks to me like the road is another day away at best. We might be able to slip across at night if we’re careful,” Jack suggested.
Alexander nodded in agreement but his mind was still processing the events of the afternoon. His wound was healed enough that he would be able to move tomorrow. Anatoly was mending even more quickly. Alexander was still playing out the basic struggle between good and evil in the back of his mind while trying to recall the details of his clairvoyance, both the specifics of what he’d seen as well as the state of mind he’d been in when it happened.
He was troubled by the colors of the man in black, which brought him back to the question of Phane and his aura. Alexander tried to replay his first clairvoyant experience. He didn’t recall seeing anyone’s aura, but then it was the first time it had happened, so maybe it was still a developing ability. When his second sight first started, it had taken a year or so before he was able to discern much of anything from the colors he saw. With time, practice, and experience, he’d come to understand how to read the aura of another person in a way that provided useful information and insight. He hoped his clairvoyance would also become more reliable and useful with time.
“We may be able to cross the road undetected, but I doubt it,” Alexander said. “The man in black I saw with the Reishi is extremely dangerous. I suspect he was what Phane was referring to when he said I wouldn’t survive what he sent next. He’s dangerous in a way I can’t adequately describe.” He fell silent again.
“From your description of his aura, it sounds to me like he’s a mage-level wizard,” Lucky said. “If that’s the case, then you’re right about him being very dangerous. A mage can establish a connection with the firmament without restraint or limit. He has reached a place where he can maintain a firm hold on his identity and his will sufficiently that the firmament can no longer distract him from his purpose. A mage does not get lost in the firmament. As a result, the only real limits on what he can do are a function of his calling and his imagination.”
Alexander frowned at a new question that presented itself. He found that was the way of things. Whenever one question was answered it inevitably led to others. “Then what’s the distinction between a mage and an arch mage?”
Lucky nodded with a smile. It was the next logical question. “While a mage can establish a connection to the firmament and cause reality to bend to his will with awesome and frightening power, an arch mage is something else altogether. He has survived the second mana fast. In many ways he has transcended normal mortal existence. His will and consciousness are said to be fused with the firmament itself. An arch mage no longer needs to make a connection to the firmament because he has a permanent and ongoing connection to it already. It’s said that an arch mage no longer casts spells per se but rather injects a vision of his desired outcome into the firmament and it becomes reality.”
Alarm was building within Alexander as Lucky explained the scope of what he faced. “If Phane is so powerful, then why doesn’t he just will me dead and be done with it?”
“Even the power of an arch mage has its limits.” Lucky slipped easily into the familiar role of tutor. “First, every wizard has a calling which determines how his connection to the firmament functions. In order to reach the level of understanding necessary to fully connect to the firmament as a mage, one must focus on his calling. Such focus excludes other schools of magic. For example, I am a Master Alchemist. I have studied alchemy exclusively and one day I hope to gain the insight necessary to rise to the level of a mage alchemist. Mason Kallentera is a general wizard who has studied many areas of magic. He can do a great many things but, because he did not focus on his calling, he will never become a mage. An arch mage must first become a mage, which requires this kind of specialization, which, in turn, naturally constrains the scope of his abilities, while magnifying the level of power he can command within his chosen discipline.
“Second, every wizard is limited by his intelligence, imagination, and beliefs. If a wizard doesn’t think of something, he cannot make it manifest. If he doesn’t believe that something can be done, then he will not be able to cause it to happen no matter how powerful he is.
“Third, the firmament is like an ocean. The effects of a wizard’s will may be able to cause great turbulence in the area immediately surrounding the wizard, but farther and farther away, the effects diminish in the same way the ripples of a stone cast into the water diminish as they get farther from the point of impact. I suspect that’s why Phane summoned creatures to do his bidding. Once brought into this world, they can carry out his will where direct action by magic against you would have been beyond even his power because of the distances involved.”
“Well, I guess it’s good to know that Phane won’t strike me dead any moment now,” Alexander said more bitterly than he intended. “That just leaves a platoon of Reishi, Rangle, the man in black, and that giant I saw to deal with. No problem.”
“Alexander.” There was an edge to Anatoly’s voice. “Complaining about the problems we face does no good. Focus on our goals and look for solutions.” The admonition was an old refrain of Anatoly’s teachings: Focus on the solution, not on the problem.
Alexander looked at his old mentor for a moment before nodding slightly. He cleared his mind and laid out the goals in his mind’s eye: get to New Ruatha and then to Blackstone Keep. Then he laid out the obstacles that stood in their way: distance and a small but powerful contingent of Reishi led by at least two wizards.
After thinking about it for a moment, he realized that the enemy would be spread pretty thin on the road. In fact, they couldn’t possibly have enough men to cover every crossing point. Unless they had some form of magic to alert them, Jack’s plan of slipping by under cover of darkness might just work. More than that, he didn’t see any viable alternative. He had to get across that road.
“All right, we move for the road at first light. We’ll stop a mile or so short and wait until dark, then make our way across
and push another mile into the forest before making camp. With any luck they won’t even notice us.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“We should probably douse the fire before it gets much darker or we’ll risk being spotted,” Anatoly offered.
Alexander drew last watch. He was sitting on his pack when the light of dawn broke over the horizon and washed over the sea of fluffy pink treetops. The golden fire of the sunrise deepened the color of the pink blossoms to a bright glowing reddish orange that was both beautiful and ominous. It looked to Alexander like he was on an island in a sea of fire that crackled and undulated in the gentle morning breeze.
The beauty of the colors all around stood out in stark contrast to the carnage of the two dead gorledons sprawled out in the middle of their camp. Lucky had clearly taken a few samples from the beasts including, from the looks of things, their hearts. Alexander shuddered at the sight of the monsters and the thought that he had come so close to death. He knew with certainty that his wound would have been fatal if not for Lucky’s magic.
Thinblade (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book One) Page 42
