“No way!” He exclaimed. “Die! Die die die die!”
He hurled a flurry of little balls of lightning at me with the wand, but they just bounced off the force wall. I put a hand on my side of the barrier, right over the spike.
“Oh, yes,” I said with a nasty grin. Then I fed power into the spike, making it grow into a forest of blades that forced their way out in all directions. The troll’s body came apart in a shower of gore, and the shaman fell into the blades. He didn’t fare any better.
I turned my gaze on the edge of the woods, and the goblins there fell back in a panic. In moments they were gone.
Wearily I let the spell drop, and set to work digging the arrow out of my arm.
There was a rattle of chain mail nearby, and a man in armor stepped up beside me. “That was impressive work, sir.”
I shrugged. “Usually I make my way as a healer, but it seems I have a knack for that sort of thing. Daniel Black, wandering adept.”
According to Cerise that meant I was a formally trained wizard, but not an official member of any of the various factions that vied for control of the magical world here. Such men were rare but not completely unheard of, and they tended to be sought after by nobles who wanted magical services without too many strings attached.
“Marcus Rain, Captain of the 5th Margold foot.”
He offered his hand, and I shook it with as firm a grip as I could muster. “Well met, Captain. An interesting group you have there. I take it you’re out collecting survivors?”
He nodded grimly. “We were dispatched to suppress a string of goblin attacks, but then our priest told us the Golden City itself is beset and the monsters aren’t going to stop coming. A troll got him the next day, more’s the pity. We’ve been fighting a slow retreat ever since.”
“Well, I’m afraid that agrees with my own information. It looks like this is Ragnarok, and things are going to get a lot worse before there’s any hope of getting better.”
He nodded. “I was afraid of that. It looks like they’ve already gotten behind us, so the only thing to do is pull back to town with whoever we can save. You’re welcome to join us, if you like. We don’t have a court wizard, and I’m sure the Baron would want to consult with you.”
“Yes, that seems wise,” I agreed. “I can’t keep fending off these attacks by myself forever. Ah, these are my apprentices, Cerise and Avilla.”
The girls had drifted back over now that the fighting was done. They were moving a lot more gingerly now, and I wasn’t sure if they’d been running on adrenaline before or if they were faking it for the captain’s benefit.
At any rate, they both curtsied prettily. The captain looked them both up and down with a frankness that would have gotten him slapped back in America, and a hint of a smile crossed his weathered face. “‘Apprentices’, eh? Yeah, they look pretty magical alright. Don’t worry, girls, I run a tight outfit here. None of my men are going to bother you, and if one of the refugees gets stupid just scream and we’ll take care of it.”
Cerise molded herself against my side like we’d been lovers for years, and nodded gravely. “Thank you, sir.”
Avilla laid a tentative hand on my arm, and looked up at me with repressed tears in her eyes. “Master Black? The numbness spell is wearing off. Can you... um... the arrow?”
God, I knew she was acting and I still wanted to sweep her into my arms and reassure her. But I’d gathered from Cerise that this place was about as brutal and anti-egalitarian as you’d expect from a preindustrial feudal regime, so showing too much concern would just draw attention to her.
“Of course I’m going to take care of it, silly girl. I certainly don’t want it to scar. Captain, I assume you don’t intend to move out for a bit?”
He glanced at the sun. “Take another hour or so to finish searching the ruins. I don’t suppose you could take a look at some of the men too?”
“Certainly,” I assured him. “But that will take time. I can mend most wounds in a matter of hours, but I can’t do it while walking.”
He studied the little caravan for a moment, and nodded decisively. “Not a problem, sir. We’ll set you up in the back of one of the big wagons. That’ll give you room to work, and a bit of shelter from the snow. I just hope the weather holds.”
I followed his gaze, and found dark clouds on the horizon to the north.
“So do I, captain. So do I.”
In the Norse sagas Ragnarok was supposed to be preceded by the Fimbulwinter - thirty years of bitter cold, without a single day of warmth. Was that really what was going to happen, or was Hecate’s choice of words just a coincidence? Hopefully the latter, because food was one thing I couldn’t just conjure up.
The wagon wasn’t much to look at. Just a big box on wheels, with a wooden frame supporting a canvas roof and sides. The front and back had flaps that could be laced shut, but even so its value as shelter was pretty modest. It was full of hay bales and barrels of beer when we arrived, but Captain Rain called over a squad of his troops and had most of the hay cleared out in a matter of minutes. They left a single layer of bales covering the floor of the wagon, as well as a couple of barrels, but that gave us plenty of room.
We settled ourselves on the hay with a collective sigh of relief.
“We made it,” Avilla declared.
“I have to say, I thought we were goners for a while there,” Cerise admitted.
“My list of critical magic items to make is growing a lot faster than I have time to work on it,” I said. “I hate being caught off guard like that.”
Cerise chuckled. “If that was being caught off guard I can’t wait to see a fight you’re ready for. You were totally badass cutting your way through the woods, and the way you handled that troll! I got wet just watching it.”
“Gore whore,” Avilla teased. “You’re just a slut for power, aren’t you?”
“You know it, honeydew,” Cerise agreed smugly.
“Well, I’m glad you’re coping so well, but I’m not a pain slut like you. Daniel, can you please take a look at this?”
I turned to find that she’d drawn the canvas closed, and shrugged her dress off to bare herself from the waist up. I just about swallowed my tongue. I’ve never seen such a perfect hourglass figure, and those magnificent breasts of hers could have belonged to a comic book character. Her golden-brown skin was smooth and unblemished, her large dark nipples perfectly placed and exactly symmetrical.
There was a short, wickedly barbed arrow sticking out of one of them, and a trickle of pale fluid still leaking from the wound. That brought me back to Earth.
“Of course, Avilla. I do have to touch it, though,” I warned her.
“Just be gentle, please. It’s very sore.”
I nodded, and laid my hand lightly on her breast. Closing my eyes I reached with my body sense, feeling for the wound. But something wasn’t right. Not at all. There was flesh under my hand, but it wasn’t remotely human. There was no meat or blood, just.... I strained, trying to identify it... sugar, cinnamon, honey, mead, and a host of strange fluids that shimmered with magic.
“Whoa,” I murmured. “Sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s what Avilla is made of. So that’s what Cerise meant by ‘spell-wrought’.”
I opened my eyes to find her looking up at me with fear in her eyes.
“Can your power heal a creature like me?” She asked pleadingly.
I took her face gently between my hands, and looked into her eyes. “Avilla, you aren’t a ‘creature’. You’re a woman. A remarkably beautiful and resourceful young woman who just happens to also be a magical creation. But if the people who live in this land are too ignorant to understand that I’ll be happy to keep your secret. And yes, I can heal you.”
Her smile was bright enough to light the world. But I made a mental note to find out what her story was soon. If she’d just been transformed somehow that was one thing, but if there were people in this land who could actually create sapient beings I needed t
o know details.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”
I smiled reassuringly. “I do, sweetie. Cerise, why don’t you hold her while I do this? As sensitive as she is, I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a bit.”
“Good idea.” The pale, slender witch shot me a grateful look, and scooted over to sit beside her girlfriend with both arms firmly around her. “Let’s get this done.”
I put my hand back on her breast, and focused again. It was a bit different than working on myself, and at first the magic that filled her body seemed to resist my influence. But then Avilla sighed, forcing herself to relax, and the resistance dissolved. The tender flesh around the wound throbbed with pain, but it responded sluggishly to my prodding. In a few minutes I convinced it to let go of the arrow, so I could remove the barbed point without doing any more damage. Then I closed the wound, and started a flow of vitality to encourage healing.
Her body drank it up like a sponge. Suddenly her magic welcomed me eagerly, greedily searching for more of the energy I was providing. Thinking that perhaps she’d been running low for some reason I expanded the flow, letting the fringes of it wash across her whole upper torso as I concentrated the majority of the energy on the wound.
An odd sound from Avilla almost distracted me, but I managed to keep most of my attention on what I was doing.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed breathlessly. “That feels so nice. The pain is almost gone. Please, don’t stop.”
Cerise chuckled indulgently. “Mana slut. You can’t get enough of it, can you?”
“I can’t help it, Cerise,” Avilla replied defensively. “You know I have trouble... keeping... charged... oh please, Daniel, tell me you can do this again?”
Her body was soaking up my magic like a sponge now, and I could feel her arousal blossoming into full force.
“I can,” I told her. “But I’m starting to think you should be asking your girlfriend’s permission. This is like a drug for you, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, she gets totally stoned if you feed her too much at once,” Cerise put in. “You’d better ease off until you get the other arrows out.”
“Meanie,” Avilla pouted. “I never get to have all the magic I can hold.”
“That’s because you can hold enough magic to levitate a mountain, honeydew,” Cerise replied proudly. “No matter how much I stuff you you’re still going to want more, and you get so silly you can’t hold up your end of a power tap before long.”
I smiled at their familiar bickering, and busied myself extracting the rest of the arrows. By the time I was finished Avilla was comically tipsy, and was sloppily trying to make out with Cerise. I calmed her down a little by having the two switch places, and spent another twenty minutes or so healing Cerise.
“So, what’s your secret?” I asked as I worked. “You started out human, but I can feel you’ve done something odd to yourself.”
“Um.... it shouldn’t interfere with healing,” she said hesitantly.
“She steals power from demons,” Avilla explained conspiratorially.
“Hey!” Cerise cried indignantly. “Avilla! Don’t give away my mysteries!”
“You did it to me,” the buxom blonde replied, sounding a little put out about it. “Besides, it’s kind of cool. Ever since she got a piece of that succubus she’s been insatiable.”
I laughed. “Alright, Avilla, that’s enough of that. I don’t need to hear details about your sex life.”
“Thank you!” Cerise snapped.
“I can imagine it just fine,” I went on cheerfully.
Avilla giggled. Cerise sputtered. It kept them both distracted enough for me to finally finish.
Alas, then I had to earn my keep. Wounded soldiers and sick villagers weren’t nearly as much fun to work on as my witches, but it was just as well. Another hour or two of that teasing banter and I was liable to do something that would get me knifed in the dark by one or the other of the adorable little psychos.
Chapter 3
The caravan set out not long after I finished healing Cerise, but I was far too busy to spare any attention for the scenery.
A lot of the soldiers were injured to a greater or lesser degree, and they lined up to see what the mysterious wizard could do for them. The first few were cautious enough to make me wonder how many charlatans there were in this field, but after I healed a cracked rib and a couple of infected arrow wounds word got around that I was the real deal. After that I had to recruit the girls’ help to screen them and keep the line organized, or I wouldn’t have been able to get anything done.
“First priority is anyone who looks like they might die if they have to wait,” I told them. “Then soldiers who can walk on their own, but are hurt bad enough to keep them from fighting properly. After that I’ll take serious injuries, but minor ones will have to wait for tomorrow.”
“So, keep them alive, keep us all defended, and then go from most serious to least? Got it,” Cerise said confidently. “Better let me handle that, though. Avilla’s a sucker for a sob story.”
Avilla pouted at that.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I replied diplomatically. “Avilla, can you scrounge up a knife and see if you can find some rags and a source of water? I can heat it myself, but a lot of these old injuries are going to need cleaning.”
“Oh!, Yes, I can do that,” she chirped happily, and ran off to take care of it.
My next patient had a nasty compound fracture of the upper arm and shoulder, courtesy of a troll’s club. I coaxed the shattered bones back together, stamped out the infection, closed up the wounds where broken bones had punctured skin and reconnected severed tendons. I let him go with a caution that the bones would remain delicate for several days, and advised the sergeant who’d shown up to observe to keep him on light duty if it was possible.
On close inspection the soldiers were a bit of a historical anomaly. Most of them wore chain hauberks of a standardized design, and much of their other equipment was also identical. Heavy black boots, dark green cloaks and pot helms were standard, while the sergeants had more elaborate helms with nose and cheek guards. A lot of them carried long spears with narrow points that were obviously designed for piercing armor, while the rest bore a mix of swords, axes and what I was pretty sure were compound bows.
That was odd. In feudal societies fighting men usually had to supply their own equipment, so that level of standardization was rare. But then, so was the fact that the unit was called the ‘5th Margold’ and not ‘Rain’s Company’, or something like that. Somehow this world had apparently evolved relatively modern military organizations without abandoning feudalism.
I resolved to keep my eyes open and try not to make assumptions until I knew more about this strange society.
My next patient was a peasant farmer who’d come down with the flue, which was potentially lethal under these conditions. Then an assortment of wounded soldiers - cracked bones, nasty gashes and puncture wounds, and a paralyzed arm that turned out to be the result of some goblin shaman’s curse rather than a physical injury. The spell was easily removed, which seemed to particularly impress the men.
I was starting to wonder if any of the troops guarding the caravan were actually healthy. The sergeant nodded when I commented on it.
“It’s been tough fighting, sir wizard,” the grizzled veteran said. “The worst I’ve ever seen. We were near two hundred when we set out, but not a day’s gone by when we didn’t lose a man or six. Three times we’ve had a whole patrol, a dozen or more men, just vanish with no survivors.”
I frowned. “I wouldn’t think goblins would be that effective against trained soldiers, unless you were chasing them through the woods. Those little bows of theirs can’t be much use against armor, and their marksmanship isn’t that great.”
“Not your first campaign, is it sir? No, the goblins can’t stand against us in the open field
. They raid us instead, always popping out of the woods to plink a few arrows and curses at whoever they can get a beat on and then running off into the woods. Can’t follow them without running into traps and ambushes, and every now and then they get someone. It wears on a man, even if our archers do make them pay for it.”
“But what’s bad is the real monsters. We keep running into trolls, sometimes alone but usually with goblins. Worse things, too. An ogre, felwolves, even a beast the captain says was a manticore. We turned back when the scouts reported giant tracks.”
Yeah, that made more sense. I’d seen myself how tough trolls were. If giants were even bigger they’d be bad news to a group like this.
It was twilight by then, and the sky was mostly overcast. A few flakes of snow drifted down on us.
“The captain’ll be calling camp any time now,” the sergeant observed. “I’d best get the men ready. But if’n you don’t mind me saying so, I figure you’ve done enough for one day. There’s no sense in you wearing yourself out over bumps and bruises when we might have a man take an arrow in the throat before dawn.”
“Fair enough, sergeant. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Thomas, sir.”
A call from up ahead interrupted us, and he hurried away with another respectful nod. I had to admit, after my years as a corporate drone I could get used to that kind of treatment.
The caravan stopped in an open field beside the road, which had apparently been used for that purpose many times before. The men circled the wagons to form an improvised barricade between the camp and the surrounding woods, and a work party began cutting wood and setting up a bonfire while smaller groups corralled the animals and hung canvas awnings from the inner side of the wagons. The peasants huddled together miserably, a few of the more industrious ones claiming one or another of the little firepits that dotted the field and casting about for wood to burn.
I was distracted from my observations by a crackling and glow of firelight beside my wagon, and turned to find that Avilla had somehow managed to get a fire going in the few minutes we’d been stationary. She hung a little pot full of snow over the blaze as I watched, and smiled up at me.
Fimbulwinter (Daniel Black) Page 4
