Legend of the Iron Flower Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Billy Wong

The archers pulled arrows back on their strings, and Rose knew her shield would not stop all those shafts. Her companion didn't even have a shield, but replied, "I won't die." And as the volley flew, Alicia grabbed Rose and pulled her in front of herself. Pain flared up all over her body as she became her companion's human barricade.

  Rose fell, a pincushion of Volstonian shafts, and Alicia charged, her great axe weaving like a snake before her. She was fast for her size, but the archers were old hands with their bows, and in an instant nocked new arrows and loosed. The axe deflected a handful of arrows, but not nearly enough as shafts sprouted all over her as well. For a moment, Rose thought the mercenary as good as dead. Then she was on them, hewing and hacking like a frenzied boar sheathing its tusks again and again in its hunters' flesh.

  Blood sprayed everywhere and the pack of archers broke apart, some stepping back to keep shooting, others fleeing outright, and a very small minority drawing swords to engage the screaming woman in melee. Those were the first to die. Then, taking more hits than Rose would have believed anyone but herself could withstand, Alicia chased the archers down, until all were either dead or gone far away.

  By now Rose had regained her feet, and Alicia stumbled towards her, her body bristling with arrows. She came into arm's reach and Rose punched her, knocking her to the ground. Landing on multiple shafts embedded in her side, she cried out in pain. "What did you do that for?!"

  "You made me get shot."

  "I got shot, too!"

  "You didn't mean to." Rose noticed an arrow stuck in Alicia's inner thigh. "That's an weird place to get shot."

  "Yeah, well, with half a hundred opponents, you'd expect to be hit in more than the usual places."

  "Are you alright?"

  "Good question from the woman who just punched me."

  "Well, I'm fine," Rose offered, though her head felt light. The arrows were keeping most of the blood in, but she was in a lot of pain.

  "I'm better than fine, then. Here, help me up."

  She turned away. "Help yourself up."

  Alicia tried to move and gasped in pain. "You're a mean girl, Rose."

  "That's not true. You should take it as a sign of respect that I let you get up yourself."

  "Right. Should we wait for the others to get here and treat our wounds, or start taking arrows out ourselves?"

  Rose looked down at herself, sat, and ripped an arrow out of Alicia's right breast. "Let's not wait."

  "No, let's not." And she plucked a shaft from Rose's side.

  #

  They hadn't nearly finished by the time their comrades arrived, but the others let the two women work out their frustrations with each other in their own strange way. When they were finally done, Alicia smiled wearily and said, "You're almost as tough as me."

  "Almost?!" Rose exclaimed, the words sending pain shooting through most of her body. "I had more arrows than you."

  "How do you think they knew we were coming, anyway?"

  Changing the subject? Oh, well. It was a good question. "Who did you get the information for this bunch from?"

  Alicia stood, boastfully stretching her massive, bloody frame. "Just one of my usual men."

  The conclusion was obvious. "Your usual man betrayed us."

  "I know. I'll have to kill him for that." She walked over to an archer's corpse, knelt gingerly, and frowned. "This man's from the wrong tribe."

  "You mean..?"

  "This isn't the bunch we came for. We've been set up."

  "Yeah, we already knew that."

  Alicia shook her head. "But they're not just from any wrong tribe. They're from my informant's."

  #

  Despite their attempts to impress each other, it was obvious that both women were seriously wounded, and as they approached their informant's camp a day later Rose was the one to say, "Don't go in the front this time. You're too hurt for it."

  Alicia gave her a harsh look. "And would you admit the same?"

  Sometimes, she might have. It depended on her reasons for being part of the battle. But for most of the situations she had encountered in her fighting life, the answer would have been the one she gave. "No, guess not. I'm in pain, but I can fight."

  "And what makes me so different from you?"

  "I'm a freak—favored by the gods, some say. I've taken many nasty hits and survived."

  "And I haven't?"

  Rose looked at Alicia, who held herself with her usual easy confidence despite the many wounds she bore. The woman was very brave, and sturdy indeed. But she didn't think she could withstand much damage to her insides; Rose was special that way, freak she was. Actually, they'd both been lucky enough to avoid taking too many deep wounds in the last fight, in part because their armor had slowed the arrows.

  "Can you really fight?"

  Alicia waved her axe. "Sure."

  "Fine."

  Suddenly, Alicia glared at her. "No, it's not 'fine.' I make the rules here—I tell you if you can fight, not the other way around."

  "Fine."

  Ignoring her, Alicia led them forward. The smell of blood was in the air, which wasn't right. They hadn't even started fighting yet. When they reached the camp, they found it littered with dead, and Alicia singled out one corpse with a spear through his mouth. "That's him," she said.

  Rose barely noticed, because the scene was far worse than anything she'd seen in a long time. These raiders had brought their families, and they'd died together. The bodies of women and children lay scattered throughout the camp, as butchered as those of the men. Some of the women had died fighting, and she noticed that these seemed even worse off than the rest. "Why?"

  "There are plenty of evil men in the world," Alicia said.

  Collecting herself, Rose clarified. "I mean, why for all this? Why did this group bring its families first? Why did they try to kill us? And who butchered them like this?" She wondered, too, what she would have done if they hadn't been dead. Moreover, she wondered what Alicia would have done—and if she would have tried to stop it.

  "I don't know. Let's see if any of them is alive."

  They had barely begun to look when a man with a clump of arrows in his chest, who Rose had taken to be dead, choked out, "W-we were running."

  Rose had barely been able to hear the words, and knelt by his side as she asked, "From who?"

  "P-Pierce. We were going to stay, but h-had to be rid of you, so you c-couldn't kill us..." Staring into Rose's eyes, he seemed to gain strength. "Avenge us. I know you have no l-love lost for us. But do it anyway, to rid the world of that evil's stain." Then he fell limp and died.

  Before Rose could ask Alicia anything, the redhead groaned, and she knew troubling news would follow close behind. "Then he's here," Alicia whispered. "And where he walks, no goodness can survive."

  "Who? Who are you talking about?"

  "Pierce, the dreaded Vulture of Volston." Alicia scowled. "He's the leader of the Vlin tribe, who styles himself king of Volston though no civilized power recognizes him as such. He loves forcing other, weaker tribes to join him or be completely wiped out."

  "That doesn't sound so bad," Rose said. "It's better than wiping them all out."

  "It's not mercy that inspires him to allow them to assimilate into his tribe. Anyone who joins the Vlin is forced to convert to his death god-worshiping religion, which promises paradise only to the most prolific killers who have given the underworld the ripest harvest of souls. As the Vlin lose so many in their eternal war, it's necessary for them to replenish their ranks somehow."

  So not only did these Vlin hold a monstrous outlook on life, but forced their victims to adopt that barbarity. It was abominable in Rose's eyes, and no amount of talk about open minds could have convinced her to think of such a faith with anything but loathing.

  The raiders who had ambushed Alicia, then, must have come to Kayland to escape Pierce's conquest, and attempted to kill them for the sake of their own continued safety here. But if Pierce's forces had followed them into Kayla
nd to slaughter them, did that mean he wanted to invade here as well? And how?

  "You said he hasn't even been able to gain total control over his own land. How could he hope to win out here?"

  "I don't think he plans to take over Kayland. As you said, it's impossible."

  "Then why?"

  Rose saw the fear in Alicia's eyes and shuddered. Alicia was never afraid. The woman sighed. "He's dying, Rose. Some sort of skin disease. The rumors began a while ago, and I wasn't sure if they were true, but now I believe it."

  That wasn't the answer she'd expected. "If he's dying, then why..?"

  "Why invade? I told you about his faith. He thinks that the more he kills, the greater his place will be in the afterlife. In Volston, yes he's strong, but it's a harsh warriors' land, and everyone is used to fighting his kind. He sees a better opportunity for a final glory here, for he views us as soft and weak, and easy prey. I don't think he plans to try and conquer the great cities or to rule Kayland for what remains of his life. No, I think he'd rather just sweep through the country, slaughtering until everything runs red with blood."

  Rose was really scared. She had fought and killed many men she thought to be evil, but evil or not their motives had been logical in her eyes. This, she wasn't used to. The madness here was so alien to her, and there was one thing in particular she just didn't get. "But why would his men go with him? Surely, they don't mean to die."

  "Think about it. If they share his faith, why wouldn't they want to share in his glory?"

  A whole culture of fanatics? "How can that be? It's insane."

  "Of course it is."

  "But how can anyone go along with this? Shouldn't their whole race be dead by now, with such ways?"

  "Not when they've always been the stronger side."

  "So you're saying they don't think to die. Don't they know the strength of our armies?"

  "You think the common barbarian knows so much about his enemy? He knows we are soft and weak, and die easy. He also knows there are a lot of us, but thinks that if somehow we beat him back through the strength of numbers, we will not be swift or smart enough to chase him down. He thinks he can wear us down, and that eventually we will all fall. That we are no match for him. It's the way they're taught from the time they're born; in this age of cities, it's one way their culture survives."

  Rose couldn't help being impressed with all Alicia knew, or presumed to. "Do you think we're that weak?"

  Alicia laughed. "What do you think, Rose?"

  "Of course we're not. I meant the rest of our people. The ones they seek to kill."

  "Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? But I've seen many a fight, and I know most aren't nearly as strong as me."

  "Of course not. But they don't need to be, do they?"

  "I don't know that, either."

  "Well, I don't think it really matters. I mean, that's why people like us exist, to protect those weaker than ourselves."

  Her arms folded over her chest, the redhead spat. "Of course you'd say that."

  "It's true, isn't it?"

  Alicia met Rose's eyes. "Tell that to Pierce."

  "Yeah, I know he thinks differently, and I'm glad of it. That's what makes us right."

  To that, Alicia could only nod in response.

  Chapter 9

  Soon after they left the destroyed camp, Rose realized the great danger the Whitestones were in at Geben. While it may have been a fort, it was a small one, and she had no doubt that if a barbarian horde did invade, it would hardly be able to resist the temptation of striking at such a conveniently located target. So she told Alicia of her concern, and her intention to go back.

  The mercenary laughed. "And what do you think one woman could do for them, if Pierce's horde came?"

  Defiantly, Rose countered, "What do you think thirty mercenaries can do against a horde, then?"

  "Whatever we can, I guess. Fine, Rose, go. If I hear that you're dead, it better be after a glorious battle."

  "There are no glorious deaths in real life. Only the end of life."

  "So don't die."

  Rose began to walk away, then stopped and turned back towards the older woman. "Wait! Me and Ethan didn't part on the best of terms. How do you think I should approach him?"

  "Did you leave him, or did he leave you?"

  "I left him... I guess."

  "Then don't worry about it," Alicia said with a sly grin. "If he loves you as much as you say, he'll be dying to have you back by now."

  #

  Rose didn't think the Whitestones would welcome her return, but it didn't matter much to her. She still loved Ethan, and even if he didn't love her back, she'd protect him to the end. She'd make him see how much she still cared. But when she got to Geben, she learned they were gone, on the road to aid some town that was struggling not for the trouble of raiders, but from a terrible plague. It seemed at once noble and silly to her that the Whitestones would go to such a place. Following them, she could only hope her matchless constitution would be enough to protect her against the disease.

  When she caught up to them, they hadn't even reached the town yet, and she wondered if she could somehow convince them to forego the mission. Fat chance of that. She was out of their favor as it was. Rose found herself too nervous to approach, and hid off the road as she trailed along trying to muster her resolve to meet them. Then she heard the rustling in the bushes ahead, just before a man with a spear sprang up. She clove through his breastbone, and he fell away. Rose ran out onto the road, screaming warnings to her former friends.

  At the front of their wagon train, Ethan stared at her as if attempting to figure out whether she was trying to pull some trick. Then, a spear sprouted in the bosom of a female Whitestone farther behind. With a shriek, she fell to the ground and lay still. More spears flew, and Rose felt the panic growing in her heart. Too many angles of attack, and too many people to protect. How could she save them all?

  Some of the Whitestones ran around seeking to hide among their wagons, and others turned to run back down the road the way they'd come. Vain efforts, as more raider spears fell from the bushes lining the road's side and Rose realized they were all but surrounded. Then some of the hidden raiders emerged to interpose themselves behind the Whitestone wagons, and they faced enemies on all sides.

  Rose rushed a tall, brown-bearded raider to her right, striking both his legs off with one low slash. "Gary!" she yelled at the former warrior she saw shielding a younger companion with his body, and threw him the raider's blade.

  Apparently, survival instincts were stronger than ideals in this particular Whitestone, for he lashed out with his new sword at an advancing spearman. But the man stepped back, and another raider with an axe joined in against the lone warrior. On her side of the road, Rose killed another man, tossed his spear in the direction of the wagons, and demanded, "Fight, dammit!"

  No one else moved, and Rose couldn't believe how stupid Ethan and his bunch were being. Talking about strict pacifism was one thing, and dying for it was another altogether. Though angry at the people she was trying to save, Rose fought all the harder for it, channeling that rage into ferocious blows which broke armor easily to rend the flesh beneath. She wanted to give Ethan another verbal lashing, to be sure, but he'd have to be alive for her to do that. She still loved him, though she hated him too. He wasn't going to die.

  But that would be a hard promise to keep, because though she was doing quite well on her side, the raiders were closing in from every other direction. Once they reached the Whitestones, Rose knew, they would find easy prey. She ran to take the fight to the men approaching the wagons, moving as fast as she could around the train while she cut down every raider in sight. One time, she caught a look of pure horror in Ethan's eyes.

  A glance at Gary gladdened Rose to see him still alive. But he was having a great deal of trouble with his adversaries, and suddenly the one with the axe used it to trip him off his feet. The spear came down and pierced his lower leg. Screaming in pain, he dro
pped his sword. Death was moments away, and disregarding the consequences Rose threw her own sword through the axeman's back. She drew her dagger and threw it too, seeing that Gary would not recover in time to defend himself against the spearman's followup thrust. The raider died with a blade through the back of his head, and Gary was saved.

  Unfortunately, that also meant Rose had only her shield for a weapon. She pushed a raider back with a blow to the body, then ducked to scoop up a dropped spear. A sword sliced the back of her shoulder open as she dodged an axe blow to the neck, and she cried, "Idiotic pacifists! Don't let us die..."

  No response, and her blood boiled with rage. She thrust her spear all the way through a man and into another, and lifting both of them on the shaft swung the grisly spit into a trio of approaching enemies. She picked up a great two-handed sword from the ground, and with one hand used it to chop a man in half. Pressing the attack on her foes, she saw a raider chasing a Whitestone with his mace raised high, and ran him fully through from side to side. So many... how many were they? Probably less than the number she'd faced in Nienne, but damn, things were different this time!

  She snapped a neck with a charging shield blow to a snarling face, then spun around to cut through another raider's ribcage. An axe bit into her back and she screamed, but unwilling to quit sliced through the wielder's middle and spilled his insides. A spear landed in her shoulder, and she bared her teeth defiantly as another pierced the front of her thigh. She charged those two, felling them side by side. And then, there was no one left to fight. Those who weren't dead had run away.

  Yanking the spears out with no mind for the pain, Rose turned to check on the Whitestones. Two were dead, and five including Gary wounded. Not to mention herself, if she was still considered one of them. The woman with the spear in her chest was still alive, but wheezed bloodily like she would not remain that way, and another man had a wound in his gut from which rose the smell of death.

  "You fools, I gave you so many fallen's blades. Why didn't you help me?"

  "You survived," a man said stupidly.

  "Yes, I survived, because that's what I do! Look at everyone else—look at your wounded and your dead! Might you not have saved some if you'd had the courage to fight? You let them come to harm, and you should all be ashamed..."