The Tainted Sword p-1

by D. J. Heinrich

  “Answer the question!” Flinn shouted angrily. “Do you speak Common?” The shout made Dayin shudder and he huddled closer to Jo. She put her arm around the boy’s thin shoulders, not wanting to admit that Flinn’s voice scared her, too. Flinn is just trying to browbeat the orc, she told herself.

  Slowly, grudgingly, the orc spoke. “I… speak Common, human pig.” His voice was thick with orcish accents.

  Flinn proffered a mouth-size piece of meat on the end of his knife and leaned toward the orc. The monster greedily bit at the meat, but Flinn didn’t stop moving his hand. Only after the knife was mostly in the orc’s mouth and the orc’s eyes were wide with terror did Flinn stop. He drawled, “Watch your tongue, orc, and I may let you keep it to taste another piece of meat.” As if to emphasize his point, Flinn pulled out the knife and lightly drew it across the lips of the orc, though he didn’t draw blood.

  The warrior rested on his heels before the orc and slowly, teasingly, cut the remaining meat into bite-size pieces.

  “Why did the Rooster’s tribe and Greasetongue’s tribe meet at the river ford?” Flinn cocked an eyebrow and held up a tidbit.

  The orc’s eyes fixed on the meat and glistened. His mouth drooled. With thick, almost indecipherable, accents he answered, “To join and go south.” His long white tongue licked his lips in anticipation, and he opened his mouth.

  “Why?” Flinn flicked the piece of meat. It landed on the orc’s neck, just beneath the chin, and stuck there. Jo watched the orc twist to reach the meat, and she was suddenly sure Flinn had deliberately missed the orc’s mouth. She wondered when he had learned his interrogation skills: as a knight in the Order of the Three Suns or as a mercenary with Braddoc Briarblood?

  The orc squealed in disgust. He couldn’t reach the meat, and his bright, tiny eyes glared at Flinn. “Won’t tell. Not allowed tell,” he hissed.

  “Tell me,” Flinn rejoined calmly. He flicked another small piece of meat at the orc. This tidbit landed in the creature’s lanky hair by his ear. Jo watched the orc’s snout wrinkle, and the monster suddenly writhed in his bindings.

  The orc hissed, and his tiny eyes darted above him. “To attack village-by-the-water.”

  “By-the-water?” Jo exclaimed, leaning forward. “Flinn, the orcs are attacking Bywater!”

  “Fliiiin?” the orc hissed again, this time with evident terror. “Flinn has caught Kushik! Flinn will kill Kushik!” The orc tried to bite the cords surrounding him, and he twisted and heaved against the ropes. Unexpectedly, a key cord snapped, and the orc reached out with one long arm. Flinn was on him instantly, and man and orc tumbled backward. Before Jo and Dayin could act, Flinn was withdrawing his knife from the crumpled form of the orc.

  Flinn looked at Jo, his eyes narrow with anger. “Damn his hide!” he swore. He looked down at the orc and then dropped his knife in disgust. Shaking his head angrily, the warrior took hold of Kushik’s legs and dragged him off into the darkness.

  When Flinn returned to the fire, Jo handed him a cup and looked at him. “You did what you had to do, Flinn,” she said calmly. The former knight looked at her and nodded once, curtly. They sat down on spare furs, and Jo shook Dayin’s thin frame. “Dayin,” she called gently, “you’re falling asleep. Why don’t you turn in?” The boy nodded sleepily and crawled into the tent, while Jo picked up her mug of mead and leaned closer to the small fire. Overhead, the blizzard still raged, but only a few snowflakes drifted down into the sheltered ravine.

  “The orcs are attacking Bywater, Flinn,” Jo said. “Is there anything we can do?”

  Flinn grimly clenched his jaw. “I have failed them twice in as many days.” He turned his gaze toward the dark, stormy sky and slowly shook his head. “There’s no way to help them now. We could never overtake the tribes, and we certainly can’t stop them.” He hung his head, rubbing his temples painfully.

  “Flinn, we have to do something! We must warn them. Baildon and the others-they’ve been through too much already,” Jo cried. “First Verdilith and now orcs!”

  “Calm down, Jo,” Flinn said gently. He put his arm around her briefly. Jo leaned against him, feeling the warm strength of his large frame. “There is something we can do, but it could be dangerous,” Flinn said.

  “The… crystals?” Jo asked in a quieter voice.

  Flinn pulled out his little pouch that held the stones. “Yes, the crystals. We can try to contact Baildon through one of the stones and warn him that the orcs are coming.”

  “What if they’re already there?” Jo asked. “What if we’re too late?”

  “If that’s the case, then,” Flinn said heavily, “we’ll at least know we tried.” He pulled out two stones, one a dark red crystal made with Jo’s blood and the other a light amber crystal of the abelaat’s. “Which should we use?” Flinn stared at the two stones he held up to the light of the fire.

  “Yvaughan heard you using the abelaat’s crystal, Flinn, didn’t she?” Jo asked. “I know we have fewer of them, but that’s the one I think we should use.”

  Flinn nodded slowly. “I think so, too, but… I mistrust the power inherent in the crystals. I think, somewhere, something knows when we use the stones.” Flinn shook his head. “I wish the orc hadn’t died. I wanted to find out why the tribes are bent on attacking Bywater.” He held out his hand. “Give me your knife, Jo. If I put the stone between two knives, I should be able to hold the stone in the fire long enough to heat it without burning myself.”

  Jo handed him her knife. “Isn’t it obvious why the orcs are attacking Bywater? I mean, they must be starving here in the hills. You yourself said it was a bad winter already, and it’s only half over. Aren’t the orcs attacking Bywater for food?” Flinn shook his head and practiced positioning the crystal between the two blades. “Two orc tribes wouldn’t gather together to attack Bywater-maybe each tribe individually, but not the two of them together. No, someone or something is behind this attack, and I wish we had found out before the orc died.” He leaned toward the fire. “Now, let’s both concentrate on Baildon in Bywater.”

  Jo leaned next to Flinn, and the two of them watched the amber crystal the warrior was slowly heating. She concentrated on Baildon and wondering what was happening to him now.

  The moments crawled by. This stone seemed more resistant to heat than the other two had been. As Jo’s thoughts centered upon Baildon, she counted forty-seven strokes of her heart. Finally the crystal began to glow. Flinn caught his breath, and Jo leaned closer to the fire. A miniature scene began to form inside the amber stone.

  It was indeed Bywater, or what was left of Bywater. Several buildings were in flames, and the streets writhed with hordes of orcs. Jo moved closer to the crystal. Literally hundreds of the creatures filled the icy lane, dancing in a ghastly revelry.

  “We’re too late,” Jo whispered, her chin quivering. The villagers who had survived Verdilith couldn’t survive two tribes of orcs.

  “Baildon?” Flinn whispered. The scene shifted a little, though only slightly. At the edge of town, two orcs stood over the body of a stout, bloodied man who still carried a cleaver in his hand. Although the man was lying face down in the muddy snow, they knew it was Baildon. A spear stood upright in his back.

  The two orcs squabbled, one of them putting his foot on Baildon and pointing at the man. The orcs savagely shoved each other and bickered loudly. One wore a red-plumed helmet, and Jo figured he must be the Rooster. The other was probably Greasetongue. She wanted to ask Flinn if he understood anything they said, but his face was so intent that she didn’t dare distract him.

  The crystal shattered. Jo had expected that to happen, but it startled her nonetheless. Silence fell on the little camp, broken only by the quiet snapping of the fire. Jo and Flinn both stared blankly into the flame’s depths.

  “I should have been there, Jo. I should have been there,” Flinn said at last. “I shouldn’t have let Baildon talk me into leaving. He needed my help. I knew he needed my help.”

  “Flin
n, don’t talk like that!” Jo turned to him and gripped his arm. “Flinn, look at me! Look at me!”

  Jo sensed the effort it took the warrior to turn from the flames and look at his squire. When he did, she grabbed his other arm and locked eyes with him. “Flinn, do you honestly think that you alone-that you, me, and Dayin-could have saved Bywater from all those orcs? Do you?” Her eyes flashed.

  The man’s dark gaze narrowed, and his eyes glistened wetly. He reached out and gripped Jo’s arms, his touch painful. “I could have warned them somehow, could have held off the hordes while they escaped,” Flinn said raggedly. She leaned nearer. “Flinn, what do you mean?”

  Flinn ground his teeth and glanced to the side. His grip on her arms remained tight. Jo hoped he drew some strength from her in that moment. At last he turned back to her. “That was the Rooster and Greasetongue standing over Baildon’s body,” he said slowly. “I know a little orcish-enough to get the gist of what they were talking about.”

  Jo tightened her hands. “What did they say, Flinn?” His face flushed and he swallowed hard. “Tell me what’s wrong, Flinn,” she said. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and choked. “The orcs were… sent to Bywater. They were supposed to sack the village.”

  “Why?”

  “They were arguing because they couldn’t find my body. One said that the man beneath his feet-Baildon-was me; the other disagreed. I was supposed to be there-they’d been told that I would be there, Jo,” Flinn’s hands fell from Jo’s arms.

  “Who told the orcs you’d be there?”

  Flinn hung his head for a moment, then turned back to Jo. His eyes had grown hard as nails. “Verdilith,” he said, licking his dry Ups. “Verdilith sent the orcs to Bywater and told them I would be there. Verdilith promised them the town to sack as well as my hide. The orcs agreed readily enough, since they have no love of me and they were in need of food. But they didn’t find me, and they found only a portion of the town left for them to savage. Verdilith hadn’t told them what he’d done to By water only a few nights before.” Flinn spat into the fire. “The orcs were supposed to find and kill me.”

  “But why would Verdilith think you’d be in Bywater?” Jo asked, removing her own hands from Flinn. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does if you know that my home was destroyed the day before,” Flinn answered through clenched teeth. “It makes perfect sense if you know I have no supplies and have to head for the nearest town to get them.”

  Jo shook her head. “I don’t understand. How would Verdilith…?” Her voice trailed off as dread welled up within her.

  Flinn nodded. “Sir Brisbois.” Jo caught Flinn’s expression in the light of the campfire, and she shivered in fear. The man continued, “The death of Bywater is on my hands now, Jo.” He shook his head when she protested. “They were killed because of me.”

  Jo watched Flinn’s face in the firelight, then took his hands in hers and waited for him to look at her. “Flinn, your death would have meant nothing to the people of Bywater. With you still alive there is the chance for goodness to redeem itself. There is the chance of vengeance,” she said slowly, her eyes locked on his. “It’s the only thing I can offer you. Their deaths will not be in vain if you slay Verdilith.”

  Flinn pulled her to him and wrapped his arms about her, but Jo knew he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. He stroked her braid and whispered, “Verdilith and Brisbois will both pay for the death of Bywater, Jo-and for the death of my honor.”

  Chapter X

  The storm broke by morning. The trio left the ravine, heading once more for higher ground. Ariac had recovered from the grueling pace they had maintained yesterday, though Flinn had to fashion new leather pads to cushion the griffon’s claws. The additional snow from last night’s storm made travel slow and tiresome, even in the windswept, rocky barrens they now traversed. All the while, they scanned the western hills, neither seeing nor hearing any orcs.

  The weather turned cold and clear. The sun, glittering brightly off the snow, did little to warm the travelers. The wind had stopped howling and the chill air was sharp and silent. Flinn found no trace of the orcs’ passing in the deep snow. Flinn, Jo, and Dayin struck northward, glad the Castellan was still in sight and that the orcs were not.

  “We travel north,” Flinn said when they stopped at the top of a large hill, “until we see the Broken Arch. It’s a rock formation near the Castellan. There we head west to find Braddoc’s home.”

  “If we head west, Flinn, do you think we’ll run into any of the Rooster’s tribe returning home?” Jo asked.

  Flinn shrugged. “That’s a chance we’ll have to take, but I think it’s an unlikely one. I think they’re all still in Bywater. Verdilith probably had to threaten them severely to get them down to the village so quickly. They’ll take their time coming back, I’m sure.”

  Jo was puzzled. “Just why didn’t they attack us at the ford?”

  “My guess is Verdilith told them to move-and move fast. I think he told the orcs not to bother attacking anything north of the river because that would slow them down. Rooster only sent the patrol after his tribe was south of us,” Flinn said, then squinted up at the sun. “Time to move out. If we’re lucky, we’ll be to Braddoc’s by evening.” He gave Ariac a light tap, and they continued down the hill. Both Flinn and Jo kept the western hills under surveillance.

  The hours yielded no sign of orcs. Jo felt her guard relax a little, then chided herself. A squire is always on guard to protect her master, she told herself sternly.

  The three of them kept up the fastest pace Flinn dared set for Ariac. They reached the Broken Arch at midmorning, and Flinn turned the group west. He led them through the rough countryside, trying to find the easiest path between the twisted hills. At midday, they halted for a brief respite. Jo brought out the dry trail rations and passed them out.

  “How much farther, Flinn?” Jo asked. She stood behind him as he checked Ariac’s front claws.

  “Another three, maybe four hours,” Flinn grunted, then stood up, rubbing his hands.

  “Is Ariac going to make it?” She stroked the griffon’s feathered neck.

  Flinn nodded. “Yes, I think so. He’ll have to.” His eyes restlessly roamed the hillsides. “It’s time to go.”

  Once again the trio mounted up and continued through the silent, barren Wulfholdes. Johauna realized she hadn’t seen anything moving the entire day. The lack of birds and animals began to worry her, and she wondered if she was the only one who felt that way. Dayin was preoccupied with his own thoughts, and Flinn seemed unconcerned. Jo stilled the feelings inside her. The trio continued to ride, halting only once for a brief stop when Jo’s horse Carsig picked up a rock in his hoof.

  Just as twilight fell, they found a stone house sheltered at the base of a craggy cliff. Beside it stood a number of huge red pines, embracing the house with their branches. The pattern of the bark was still visible in the fading light. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and a cheery light glowed from the windows. Jo thought she had never seen a more welcoming sight, for she was frozen to her very bones. Her legs were stiff and saddle-sore.

  Carsig neighed abruptly at the sight of the corral and the familiar odor of a barn. Two shaggy shapes in the corral looked up with interest and whinnied in response. Jo saw they were large ponies. Ariac squealed, and the ponies nervously shifted to one side of their large corral.

  The top half of the door to the stone house swung open. Jo heard the faint click of a trigger mechanism. In the faint light of dusk, she could just barely discern the forward curve of a crossbow.

  “Halt!” bellowed someone from the house. “Who or what goes there?”

  Flinn pulled Ariac to a stop, and Jo reined in Carsig. Dayin also halted.

  “An eye for a brain, a tooth for a mole, and a dwarf for a friend!” Flinn shouted cryptically in return. Flinn dismounted, and Jo and Dayin followed suit.

  The person inside
the house paused. Then came a huge roar of laughter, which Jo found almost more alarming than the crossbow.

  “Flinn!” The bottom half of the door swung inward and a dwarf emerged, his man-sized body swaying above the stocky legs that carried him sturdily up the path.

  “Fain Flinn! Flinn the Fallen! By Kagyar, it’s the Fool Flinn!” the dwarf shouted. Jo felt her ire rise at the taunts she was hearing, but Flinn’s laugh set her at ease. He grabbed the dwarf in his arms and then swung him about.

  “Braddoc!” Flinn was shouting. “Braddoc of the Cloven Eye! Braddoc, you sorry dwarf!” Flinn laughed again, and Jo and Dayin looked at each other. Neither had ever seen this side of Flinn before.

  The man and dwarf continued to chuckle, clasping hands in greeting. Jo studied Braddoc Briarblood, the mercenary who had cajoled Flinn into joining his less-than-honorable lifestyle. Specularum had seen its share of dwarves, and so had Jo. They were far less colorful than elves and, on the whole, a surly lot in Johauna’s opinion. But Braddoc was different: colorful, friendly, and boisterous. A thick scar cut across one eye from the dwarf’s forehead to his smiling cheek-apparently the mark that won him the name “cloven eye”. The eye was milky with the fog of blindness. Much of the rest of his face was hidden by his beard, which was neatly styled into a single braid tucked into the dwarf’s belt. His long hair was braided, too, though in two plaits. He wore a softened leather jerkin belted at the waist with wide, studded leather. Hammered copper cuffs ringed his wrists, making his hands look extraordinarily large. He wore sturdy bear-hide boots, which covered half of his short legs. Jo smiled; she was determined to like this dwarf.

  Flinn gestured toward Johauna, and she stepped forward. The dwarf’s intense, almost avaricious scrutiny fell on her, and she was suddenly aware of the dirt and blood on her clothes and the tangled mess her hair had become. How interesting that Braddoc has that effect on me and Flinn doesn’t, she thought quickly.