Quest SMASH

by Joseph Lallo

  Jihan moved to inspect the swords and armour. Keverin followed, interested in his reactions. He obviously liked the armour, but the swords were another matter. Jihan drew one from the rack, and inspected its edge. He nodded at the sharpness, but he frowned and shook his head after testing its balance. He re-racked the blade to try another.

  “You know,” Jihan said. “Deva lost more than prestige and revenue when the Chulym masters left. I don’t wish to offend you but—” he hesitated, torn between telling the truth, and telling polite lies.

  “I prefer truth,” Keverin said. “A man always knows where he stands with an honest man. Don’t fear to offend me. My skin is thick, and Julia would say that my head is also.”

  Jihan grinned. “I know how that is. Ahnao is... and then she’s...” he sighed. “Might I ask some advice of you, my lord?”

  “Of course, but I warn you that if it regards women, I might not be the one to ask. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever marry.”

  Jihan racked the blade he’d been inspecting. “Ahnao risked herself for me twice. The first time, she had to sneak out under the noses of my father’s men to point out a target for me. If she hadn’t done that, I would have died for sure.

  “Then, after I left her village to ride here, she traded her house for a nag of a horse, and chased after me. She shielded me when my father’s men found us, and her leg was badly broken. She did all that, but when we arrive safely and all is well, she starts yelling and carrying on…” Jihan looked plaintively at him. “I don’t understand.”

  Keverin laughed. “How do you feel about her?”

  “I don’t know, I mean...” Jihan blushed and set himself as if facing an ordeal. “I’ve never held a woman before Ahnao, and I’ve never… you know... at all. I think I’d like to with Ahnao very much, but she sees a lord when she looks at me, and I’m not—not anymore.”

  “You can get that nonsense out of your head,” he said sharply. “She doesn’t care about your status, man! You were unconscious when Julia healed her, so you wouldn’t know, but she begged us to care for you instead. It’s obvious to everyone that she loves you. I promise on my honour it’s true. You must think very carefully about how to proceed.”

  Jihan looked stunned.

  “She’s not a noble,” he warned, trying to get the boy to see sense. “She’s just a village girl.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Your father will, and she’ll have a hard time adjusting to life at Malcor—if the others will even let her try.”

  Jihan grimaced. “Being heir to Malcor has caused me nothing but grief. I swear I’d be happier on the road or living as a forester, but how can I ask her to live that way?”

  He shook his head trying to imagine that, but he couldn’t. Jihan looked every inch the young noble. He’d believe himself a blacksmith before he believed Jihan anything else.

  “I think she’d be happy with you no matter where you live, but you have to do what’s best for her, not yourself.”

  Jihan nodded thoughtfully.

  “So, we came down here for a reason. What do you think of the armour?”

  “It’s much better than my father issues his men. Do you use iron disks inside like mine?”

  He shook his head. “We use rings sewn to the first layer, cloth padding over them, and then the outer layer of boiled leather. It’s light and strong, and costs half as much as using solid disks.”

  “Cheaper, but not as much protection.”

  “True, but less weight makes the men quicker. That’s an advantage, and they don’t tire as quickly in long fights.”

  Jihan nodded. “You know of course that your swords aren’t fit for a pig farmer.”

  “They’re not that bad! Iron is inferior, I grant you, but steel is hard to come by and cursed expensive too. I would halve my treasure to buy enough for my men if I could, but where will I get it, and a master swordsmith to use it?”

  “With Chulym more or less useless, Matriarch Talitha is the only one with the smiths you need.”

  “And you know what she’d say if I asked to borrow one!”

  Jihan laughed and nodded.

  He stepped up to a barrel of wooden practise swords, and chose one for their sparring match. Jihan hesitated before doing the same.

  “We used live blades at Malcor, my lord. I forgot where I was for a moment. On the way here, I realised that although I hated them at the time, my tutors gave me a great gift along with their abuse.”

  “Oh?”

  Jihan nodded. “Using live blades made precision vital. As you can imagine, a miss stroke could kill or mame. Wooden swords are more humane, but they invite errors in the training... Please don’t think that I criticise, my lord, I prefer not to injure you. It was just an observation.”

  They found some space at the centre of the armoury.

  He was looking forward to learning whether Jihan was as good as he thought he was, or whether it was his inexperience talking. Starting slow, he tried to take his measure. He knew Jihan would do the same. He was about to try an attack, but Jihan chose that moment to launch his own, and he had to retreat.

  He’s good, no question.

  He tried to respond, but Jihan’s blade was always there, quicker than his, and just impossible to get passed. He was completely outclassed, and knew it. He stepped back to gain room, but Jihan advanced into the space he gave up, and he gained nothing. He expected Jihan to offer a blistering attack, and he tensed ready to yield, but something was wrong. After his brief foray at the start, Jihan had chosen to defend himself and not attack.

  “Hold!” he said, and put up his blade. “You’re holding back. Why?”

  Jihan grounded his sword. “The last time I fought blade to blade, I killed two men. It was my second real fight. I don’t feel able to strike you.”

  “What of the men in the village?”

  “I was ambushed. I had to use my bow.”

  He frowned. “I’ve seen this kind of freezing before. It can ruin a good swordsman. I’ll attack full force. I apologise now for any bruises, but we have to get you back in form before the attack.”

  “Thank you, my lord, but I’ll receive none.”

  He’s a cocky bastard I’ll give him that.

  He attacked furiously, and Jihan’s eyes widened in surprise, but he rallied quickly, and settled back to his stubborn defence. He scowled, and redoubled his efforts, but nothing he tried got through that incredible defence. He had to make the boy strike him somehow. He took a deep breath, went high, then low, and lunged. Jihan instinctively went for the opening.

  “Ooof!” Keverin gasped, and doubled over.

  “Sorry, my lord! Are you injured?”

  He stayed bent over, taking the opportunity to get his breath back, but raised a hand to reassure Jihan. His cursed armour might stop him being cut, but it certainly hadn’t stopped the impact. He’d have a smashing bruise over his ribs come the morrow, but despite that, he was pleased with Jihan’s reaction.

  “You did that on purpose,” Jihan said, suddenly realising what he’d done. “Did you not, my lord?”

  “Who me?”

  Jihan grinned.

  They started again. This time he was on his best behaviour, and not taking any chances at all, but Jihan drove him back again. Back step… parry, back step… parry, back step… damn! Jihan changed his move to a thrust instead, and tapped him lightly on the chest over his heart.

  “That’s one!” Jihan crowed, grinning now.

  “Ha! You were lucky. You need another two for the captaincy!”

  In the end he felt thoroughly skewered and drubbed. He hadn’t come close to Jihan even once. How his father’s men had wounded him, he would never know. He’d never met a better man with the blade, and fast—lightning couldn’t be faster!

  “Well Captain Jihan, that was most educational. Your teachers certainly did a job on you.”

  “Yessss,” Jihan whispe
red, his eyes darkening and his face turning grim. “Yes they did. I’d like to find them some day and repay them.”

  * * *

  37 ~ Lessons

  Julia sighed. It was pointless. She was never going to learn how to make a decent ward in time for the attack. Mathius had sweated blood trying to show her how to control the subtle threads that made a wall out of the magic, but she just couldn’t seem to grasp it. It didn’t help that he wasn’t surprised. It had taken him a year to learn how it was done. It hadn’t been said, but they were both wondering at the differences between their uses of magic. She had surprised him more than a few times with her gestures and patterns, because he insisted they were unnecessary. They might be unnecessary for a man to work magic, but they were essential for her. If she didn’t use them, her spells failed or they worked so poorly they might as well have.

  She couldn’t crack warding, but mind-speech had come to her eventually. Mathius had failed countless times to reach her before they figured out the problem. It was due, he said, to the turbulence surrounding her. When she’d asked what he meant, he’d been surprised that she hadn’t known. He described how she appeared to him in the realm of power, and in exasperation, she’d asked why he hadn’t told her about it.

  “I thought you knew,” he’d said.

  As it happened, she had known of its existence. She’d slipped into it accidentally while trying to heal him, but she hadn’t realised that he used it to bespeak another mage. She’d just thought of it as the source of her magic.

  Using her mage-sight to look at Mathius in that place, she realised the turbulence was caused by magic entering the real world. His link was like a whirlpool, but the flow entering the world through him was smooth, and it caused very little disturbance. The ocean of power that surrounded him was calm. She couldn’t see her own link no matter what she tried, but with a little experimentation, she’d found a way of mimicking what she’d seen. Mind-speech had come easily to both of them after that.

  “That looks right to me,” Mathius said, leaning over the table and concentrating upon her spell. “Try extending it toward me.”

  “It’s no good. It’s not right somehow,” she said in annoyance.

  It was just like that time on the tower. The light looked like a ward, it even sounded like one, but it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t somehow. It was… light, just light. Light couldn’t stop fireballs.

  “We need to keep practising, lady. We might get lucky.”

  Luck was no part of her life; it hadn’t been since her parents died. Instead of answering, she released her magic and reached for her wine. She drained the glass and poured another.

  All expression fled Mathius’ face.

  How dare he disapprove of me!

  She felt ashamed of herself even thinking those words, and that made her angrier. She had nothing to be ashamed of! If a drink made her feel better about murdering thousands of people, who was he to say no? Looking at him again, she saw the worry on his face, and abruptly calmed.

  She grasped her magic and spoke mind to mind. *I’m sorry, Mathius, but we’re out of time. Keverin must be frantic.*

  *I know.* he said, responding the same way. *I’ll stand with you and ward us both. My magic is weak, but it’s better than nothing.*

  She released her magic. “Don’t underestimate yourself like that. You know a hell of a lot more than I do. I wouldn’t have learned a thing without you. I’d probably still be sitting here unable to leave my centre.”

  He grinned. “You’ve certainly come a long way since then. I think we—” he broke off, looking at something over her shoulder.

  She turned to find Keverin standing there, looking uncomfortable. “Is it time already?”

  “It’s time, lady,” Keverin said grimly.

  She nodded, and stood to join him.

  * * *

  38 ~ Battle at the Gap

  Keverin watched as Julia strolled towards the Gap on Mathius’ arm, and wondered what she found amusing. Her laughter was clearly audible. The legionnaires on the far side stopped work to watch when they noticed them approaching.

  Julia stopped at the edge of the crevasse. “You boys had better run along! I’ll blast any of you still here after a count of fifty! One! Two! Three…”

  Shaking his head at her foolishness, he wasn’t surprised when one of the men raised a bow and fired. The arrow sped across the Gap, and struck Mathius’ ward directly over Julia’s heart. She didn’t so much as flinch when the arrow burst into flame, and fell into the Gap trailing smoke.

  Keverin whirled, as his men began climbing the barricade growling about what they were going to do to that Hasian. “Hold!”

  They grudgingly slid back into position.

  “That wasn’t very nice!” Julia shouted. “I’m giving you one more chance to leave.”

  What was the child planning? The legion camp was too far away to see clearly, and what did antagonising these few men have to do with attacking it? Some of the Hasians took Julia at her word, and fled, but a dozen or so remained.

  Craaaack!

  Booom!

  Lightning crackled out of the clear blue sky, the sound of the strike echoing back from the mountains. It grounded on the far side of the crevasse, and two of the legionnaires fell screaming into the abyss. Their comrades were luckier. They were thrown to safety by the blast, and fetched up further down the road.

  Marcus had tried to warn him of what to expect, but the explanation paled beside the reality. Jihan turned to him for reassurance, his world had suddenly been turned upon its head. Women could wield the God’s power, and Julia was proof. He’d known it of course; she did heal him and Ahnao, but he’d been unconscious. He hadn’t witnessed the deed.

  Pulling his wits together, Keverin nodded for Jihan to face front again. He followed Jihan’s example a moment later to see what was happening. The blast had certainly stirred things up in the pass. Men were rushing around seemingly at random, but calm reigned near the tents at the centre of camp.

  Clever girl!

  Julia must have decided the blast would bring the sorcerers to investigate, and that did seem to be what had happened.

  * * *

  Belgard dashed out of his tent, assuming Lucius was trying to escape, only to find the girl had been responsible for the blast. He hadn’t expected her to cooperate with his plan this soon, but now or later didn’t change his plans. As soon as she was dead, he would resume the offensive.

  There were only two places that she could attack from— the remains of the wall, or the edge of the crevasse. Guessing she would choose the wall for protection, he drew upon his magic and threw a fireball—

  Vrooosh!

  —and watched in satisfaction as it blasted the top yard of the barricade away. That should shake her. His magic was strong; it sang in his veins, and he attacked without cease or pause for breath. Fireball after fireball rose into the air to fall upon the barricade. He had to overwhelm her before she could retaliate.

  Belgard glared at the others. “What are you fools waiting for? Kill the bitch!”

  Dozens of fireballs rose into the air, and rained down upon Athione’s so-called saviour. He snorted at the notion that anyone could save it now that he was in command. He drew harder upon his magic, and sent a stupendous fireball into the air. It roared away from him, huge and powerful, dwarfing those sent by the others.

  * * *

  Julia winced as the first fireball struck the barricade behind her in an explosion of ancient stone. Dozens quickly followed it. At this rate the fortress would be rubble before she even started. She couldn’t see where the fireballs were coming from, but there were a number of people standing together in the centre of the camp. They were the only ones not running around in panic. She concentrated, and called the lightning down amongst them.

  Craaaack!

  The lightning bolt smashed down, connecting the ground with the heavens; it seemed to remain before
her eyes longer than a natural lightning strike. She squinted, and blinked the purple afterimage away, just in time to see more fireballs coming. They were mainly targeted at the barricade again, but the sorcerers had saved a few for her. Mathius dropped to his belly, and pulled her down beside him. He reformed his shield into a dome to cover them just in time.

  The world turned to flame and shattered stone, as the fireballs arrived.

  * * *

  Keverin hunkered down as the fireballs struck. Athione shook and groaned as if in pain, and more of her stones were pounded into rubble. Dust was thick and choking on the air, and the sound of explosions became a constant. The cries of the injured brought him back to his feet.

  “Get them inside!” he roared over the explosions, and some of the men hurried to drag the injured away.

  He flinched as a piece of stone struck him like hail, leaving his cheek bleeding and stinging. He strained to see Julia through the dust, but he couldn’t see a cursed thing; it was drifting away on the breeze, but too slowly. Out of the fog, two figures dashed toward him—Purcell and Gylaren—keeping their heads low.

  “She’s not strong enough!” Gylaren shouted over the explosions.

  “We shouldn’t have let her do it, Gy! This isn’t honourable!” Purcell added.

  “We have no choice!” Keverin yelled. “I know how you feel, Purcell, but if my honour is the price I must pay to save my people, I’ll pay it!”

  His friends stared at him in shock, and he didn’t blame them. He felt sick at the thought of his dishonour, but it was nothing besides the thought of Julia hurt because of him. He liked the girl. He admired both her courage and her intelligence. If ever he had a daughter, he wanted her to be just like Julia—less attitude would be all right too.

  “Look!” Gylaren said, pointing over the smashed barricade.

  He turned just in time to see flame engulf Julia, as dozens of fireballs struck her position. The roar of sundered rock was like the end of the world. The men groaned, seeing all hope lost, and he turned to Marcus, ready to order the evacuation. Before he could, more lightning flew.