Quest SMASH

by Joseph Lallo

  “Oomph!” he grunted, spinning around with the impact, but he kept his footing, and dodged between the horses.

  He snapped the arrow in his thigh off short, and then urged the mounts toward the inn. He limped along between them, keeping his head down and tensing up as he closed upon the entrance. He imagined an arrow hitting him in the back just as he reached safety, but nothing of the kind occurred, and he staggered through the doors. Relief flooded through him, but it was short lived. His bad leg chose that moment to collapse under him, and he crashed to the floor on his belly. His bow skittered away from his hand as pain seared his side again. He’d landed on the broken arrow stub and driven it further in. Panting in time with the pain, he willed away the darkness at the edges of his vision, and it slowly receded. The first face he saw belonged to his young helper.

  A girl, not a boy after all.

  She stared intently at him, but she didn’t speak. Her eyes burned into him, willing him to do… something, but he didn’t know what. She glared even harder when he didn’t get up, and then transferred the look to someone behind him.

  Oh joy. He wasn’t normally that slow, but he finally understood her warning. He drew his dagger, shielding the movement by getting to his feet, and spun on his good leg to let the blade fly.

  “Ughh!” the guardsman grunted, and fell.

  He sighed in relief; he didn’t recognise him, but he was wearing the cheap armour that his father always supplied. He hadn’t killed a villager by mistake then. His dagger had hit the man at the base of his throat. He should be disgusted with such a lucky a hit—he’d thought he would be taller, but all he felt was a numb weariness.

  The villagers started babbling their story as he bent to retrieve his dagger.

  “Later my friends,” he said, holding up a hand. “There should be three more by my count. Does anyone know where they’re hiding?”

  “There’s one in my ma’s house,” the girl said.

  “She weren’t yer ma!”

  “Leave over, Ricol,” another villager said. “Leanna might have been your sister, but like it or not, she treated Ahnao like a daughter. The house belongs to her by right.”

  There was a general murmur of agreement, and the girl looked gratefully at them.

  “Which one is it?” Jihan said, and Ahnao stepped closer to point it out. He bent to sight along her arm. It was the darkened house from earlier. “What about the other two?”

  He grunted as he bent to retrieve his bow from where it lay under a table. It looked undamaged to his expert eye. He readied an arrow, but left the string slack.

  “I’m not sure,” Ahnao said, and frowned at the blood splattering upon the floor. A puddle was forming. “One of them stayed with the horses in the stable. He might still be there. I’ve no idea where the other one is.”

  Jihan shifted the weight from his bad leg. By some ill luck, the arrow had struck him atop Luther’s cut. He grimaced as the muscle flexed, but the pain eased. He might take the one in the stables by sneaking out the back—if the missing man wasn’t waiting for him to do that. The one in Ahnao’s house would be tricky. There was no cover to be had for an approach.

  Galloping horses proved him out of time.

  He hobbled outside as fast as he could, and grunting at the pain in his side, drew his bow. The man to the right was marginally closer. He slowed his breathing and loosed. The shot was long, but accurate, and the rider slumped in his saddle. He watched him fall, knowing that the constant pain in his side meant he couldn’t do more. He watched his enemies gallop away, knowing he would see them again. In a strange way, his father’s intolerance would work in his favour this time. They wouldn’t dare return to Malcor without proof of his death.

  He stared grimly into the night, knowing he would kill them when next they met, or die trying. His freedom depended upon it. It was strange how anything could be justified in the name of freedom.

  * * *

  29 ~ Foundling

  Jihan cursed under his breath. Ahnao must have ridden all night to catch him. “You can’t come with me!” he said, desperately. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “You said you’d wait two days. You lied to me!”

  He winced. “I didn’t lie... not exactly. When I said that, I meant to follow through, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry.”

  Ahnao shifted in her saddle, and self-consciously pulled her skirts down to cover her legs. Her horse shifted, and the hem rose to expose them again. He tried to keep his eyes on her face—not a hardship under other circumstances, but he couldn’t help noticing how pale and smooth they looked.

  “You shouldn’t have followed me. I’m being hunted, Ahnao, you saw what I’m facing. I can’t let you come with me.”

  “I ain’t going with you. I just happen to be going the same way is all. I’m on my way to Athione to ask for work.”

  “Don’t give me that! You followed me.”

  Ahnao rolled her eyes. “You think a lot of yourself don’t yer? This is the quickest way, lots of people use it.”

  Jezy picked up his frustration and sidestepped. “I can’t let you come. You double my risk. Go back.”

  “Oh thank you very much! Just a burden now am I? I wasn’t a burden when I took them arrows out of yer! And you bawling like a littlun, and carrying on—”

  “I did not!” he retorted, but then he realised that she was trying to distract him. He calmed himself. “You must see the danger we’ll be in, and what about your house?”

  “I ain’t stupid! Of course there’s a bit of risk, and the house wasn’t really mine. I’m just a foundling. When ma died, Ricol should have thrown me out, but he couldn’t coz the others said it would be shameful.”

  Too right it would be! “What did Ricol have to do with your mother?”

  “He’s her brother. He gave me this horse in trade for the house.”

  Ahnao patted her mare affectionately.

  He eyed the horse doubtfully. She’d been robbed, but Ricol wasn’t all bad. No horse a peasant could afford was worth a house and its contents, but this one looked sturdy. It had been well cared for at least.

  “What are we doing tonight?” Ahnao went on. “We should split the watch between us.”

  That idea had merit. He hadn’t forgotten his first night alone on the hill, but the danger to her made it out of the question. He was just about to tell her no, when she stiffened in alarm. With a sinking feeling, he turned to find what had scared her, and found two mounted figures. He couldn’t make out details, but he didn’t doubt that his enemies had found him.

  “Can you tell if they have bows?” he said. His bow wasn’t suited to shooting while mounted, but it was all he had. He fitted an arrow to the string, leaving it slack for now.

  “The one on the right does. The other has a sword.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “The one on the left was in my house that night. He didn’t have a bow then, and he’s short. That’s him.”

  He nodded, willing to take her word. “I hope you’re right, because I’ll only get one chance at this. I’m going to charge them. I want you right behind me until I shoot. As soon as I do that, you ride into the trees and wait for me to come for you. Understand me? As soon as I shoot!”

  Ahnao nodded.

  He dropped the reins of Luther’s horse and shooed it away. “Ready?”

  She nodded again.

  They galloped toward the waiting riders, and Ahnao disobeyed him almost straight away. Instead of riding behind him as he’d ordered, she raced by his side. Her horse, slightly faster because she carried less weight, began to pull ahead of him.

  “Go left now!” he shouted, but she ignored the order, and moved in front to shield him. “No, you fool girl!”

  She was blocking his shot!

  He discarded his bow and drew his sword. Lying flat over Jezy’s neck, he urged her to run like the wind, and she did
her best. He came level with Ahnao again just as the bowman loosed his first arrow.

  And missed!

  Time slowed as he bore down on the man. Like a dream, he watched him raise his bow to fire again.

  Impact!

  His sword was almost wrenched from his hand as he sped by. He held tight to his blade and reined in, trying to get after the second man before he could turn to attack. Jezy skidded, her hind legs going out from under her as she tried to obey the impossible command, but she struggled back to her feet moments later, and he turned her to find the bowman motionless upon the ground. There was no sign of Ahnao. He hoped she’d had sense enough to hide like he’d asked.

  The last of his father’s men appeared over the rise in the road. “Malcor!” the hunter cried, spurring his horse into a gallop.

  “Malcor!” Jihan yelled in reflex. He didn’t have time to consider the irony of two men shouting the same battle cry as they tried to kill each other.

  Jezy took the impact well; she’d been bred of the finest Camorin stock, but the guardsman’s horse wasn’t pure blood. It went down squealing. The hunter jumped clear, and landed lightly upon his feet, sword in hand.

  Jihan was impressed despite himself. That had taken real skill. He dismounted, favouring his bad leg, and limped to meet the man. “Haiger, isn’t it?”

  The hunter nodded.

  “You should walk away. There’ll be no reward for my death, and certainly none for yours. My father thinks that carrying out his orders is reward enough.”

  Haiger approached warily. “Your da has been good to me, boy. He could have hung me years back, but he accepted my oath and gave me a second chance. I won’t betray him.”

  Haiger attacked first, but Jihan parried easily. His tutors had trained him to within an inch of his life. Literally. Many times. How he had hated them for that, but the result was standing him in good stead now. He was a master of many weapons, and the sword was one of them. He stepped back to lead Haiger into a more favourable position, and then attacked high three times in a row. Three times high, and then twice low, and then three high, twice low. He saw the decision appear in Haiger’s eyes, and in anticipation, he broke the pattern with a third low stroke. His sword struck true.

  Haiger staggered away, clutching at the wound in his thigh. “By the God!”

  He winced at the pain-filled prayer. “I don’t want to kill you, man. My father isn’t worth your loyalty. He’s a traitor. Please let me go. Just say you couldn’t find me.”

  “You’re the traitor, he’s your da!”

  “He treated me worse than the dogs!” he said in outrage. All living within the fortress knew how his father and tutors had abused him as a boy. “

  “Let be, boy. You ain’t never convincing me to turn traitor,” Haiger said, edging closer. His limp matched Jihan’s as they circled each other. “You surprised me earlier, using the girl that way. Good plan... she’s dead ya know!” Haiger yelled and lunged.

  Shocked by the news, he parried Haiger’s strike almost too late. Instead of skewering him through the chest, the blade impaled his bicep. Shrieking in agony, he swung his sword awkwardly to lodge in Haiger’s throat. The man crumpled without a sound.

  Groaning at new and old injuries, he staggered to Jezy and pulled himself awkwardly into the saddle. He had to verify Haiger’s evil news. He prayed he’d been lying, but as he topped the rise in the road, Ahnao came into sight trapped beneath her horse. She was terribly still. His vision narrowed to that slight form, pinned beneath a dead horse that she’d traded everything she owned to gain. All to follow him here to die.

  He dismounted, and knelt by her side. “I’m so sorry.”

  Ahnao opened her eyes and glared at him. “So ya should be! This cursed horse must weigh as much as ma’s house!”

  He gasped in surprise, and relief flooded through him, but it quickly turned to anger. “I told you to go left!”

  “I know, but you never could tell your left from your right!”

  He stared at her solemnly for a long moment, and then he laughed. He laughed so hard that it hurt. By the God, his arm was killing him. “Oh don’t! That hurts like a sorcerer’s flames.”

  “Serves you right. Get this brute off me.”

  He eyed the dead beast doubtfully. It would be too heavy to move without help, but it had to be done, and without tools. He struggled to his feet and limped in a circle, studying the problem from all sides. A long enough lever would work, but for that he needed an axe. He didn’t have one. He could see only one choice, but it wasn’t an elegant solution by any means.

  He gathered the reins from Ahnao’s dead mount, and tied them to the reins from Haiger’s horse. It made for a piss-poor looking rope, but it should work. He looped it around the dead beast, and tied the other end to Jezy’s saddle before mounting.

  He backed Jezy to take up the slack. “As soon as you get enough of a gap, get clear.”

  “Count on it!”

  He backed Jezy slowly until she strained against the dead weight, but he achieved nothing by it, and he started to fear that his makeshift rope would fail. Ahnao’s whimpers suddenly turned into an ear-splitting shriek, as the carcass abruptly slid a few paces toward him. He hurriedly dismounted to give aid, and found that Ahnao had pulled herself clear, but all was not well. Her leg was obviously broken. The bone hadn’t pierced her flesh, thank the God, but that was the only good news. She couldn’t ride, not like this.

  “Forgive me,” he said grimly.

  “What fer?” she said through her tears.

  “This!” he said, as his punch landed and she slumped to the road unconscious.

  Seating himself by her feet, he pulled and twisted her left foot until the leg looked straight. Even unconscious, she flinched. He scavenged a pair scabbards for splints, and strapped the leg to them with strips of material torn from Haiger’s shirt. He ripped up his cloak for padding. Over that he used the leather from the reins to bind it all together. It looked terrible, but her leg was securely held and supported.

  While he waited for her to wake, he tended to his own hurts. The gash in his arm hadn’t stopped bleeding, and his shirt was sodden with it. He cleaned and bandaged the wound using his shirt, but the blood failed to slow. He might as well not have bothered with the bandage. It was already soaked through. He used a piece of leather leftover from Ahnao’s splint as a tourniquet, and the flow ceased.

  He settled his armour back into place, wishing he’d been better prepared. His bracers and gauntlets were back at Malcor in his room, but they wouldn’t have stopped Haiger’s blade. A pair of armoured sleeves would have worked, but as far as he knew, such things didn’t exist. Chainmail sleeves, despite giving less protection than iron disks, would work well. They would be light and flexible.

  Ahnao finally awoke, ready to flay the hide off him for striking her, but then her face softened when she noticed the splints.

  “Thank you,” she said unsteadily.

  “You’re welcome. We need to get you into the saddle. It’s going to hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said bravely, and winced at a stab of pain in her leg.

  Remembering the difficulty she’d had with her skirts, he murmured an apology before using his dagger to divide them for riding, before carrying her to where Jezy waited. She was crying by the time he mounted behind her.

  “Use the stirrup if you can,” he said, hoping to stem her tears.

  She tried, but her legs were too short. He jumped down, shortened the stirrup for her, and carefully eased her foot into place on that side. With nothing further to be done, he used the other stirrup to take his place behind her, and urged Jezy to a slow walk.

  It took Ahnao about a candlemark to cry herself to sleep in his arms, and tension drained out of him. He used the opportunity to cover some distance, careful not to jostle her awake, but it wasn’t long before he noticed a loss of feeling in his hand. The tourniquet was too tight. He loosen
ed it, and allowed the wound to bleed for a count of twenty before tying it tight again. Feeling returned, and he gritted his teeth at the pain. Every other candlemark he did the same, hoping that he wouldn’t run out of blood before he reached Athione.

  * * *

  30 ~ Siege

  Donalt closed the door against the sound of his mother and sister weeping, and leaned against it, his shoulders sagging with weariness. Reporting Cor’s death had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  Rogan had galloped in the gate with his disastrous report less than a candlemark ago. All dead. All eight hundred dead, and Sergeant Ferris with them. He’d been in shock since then, and in a way he was grateful for it. He had to plan the defence, and he couldn’t afford the time to grieve. He forced himself to stand straight and get on with it. Everyone was relying upon him.

  Grim faced, he marched quickly through the citadel to his father’s study. He took the key from its hiding place, and unlocked the cabinet that his father used to keep important papers. He pushed aside all the deeds and contracts piled haphazardly within it, and withdrew a long cylindrical leather case containing Elvissa’s precious maps. Purcell had paid an incredible amount in gold for them years ago, and had proudly shown them to him many times as a boy. He hadn’t understood their significance at first, but as his training broadened his mind, he realised what a treasure they actually were.

  The map he needed detailed Deva as if seen by a bird on the wing. It accurately portrayed every detail he could imagine, down to the very last stream and pond. There were seven in the set. Six of them, when laid together, displayed the entire continent of Waipara. The seventh was much less detailed. It was a map of Tindebrai, and was limited to the shape of the land. There were no borders, towns, or cities drawn. The empire was extremely secretive.

  He put away the maps he didn’t need, and relocked the cabinet. After replacing the key, he left the study and made his way down to meet his captains, waiting for him in the guardroom. When he entered, they fell silent and watched him unroll the map.