The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm)

by Brian C. Hager

  A minstrel had started playing some time during the evening, and Vaun at last tuned his ears to his singing. He sang now of Tellek Ull, the only Swordsman to come from the north. Tellek, a staunch pacifist, had considered his Swordsman talents a curse, but nevertheless sought a position among the guard of the Yardan king, his sovereign. After each battle he went to confess his sins and begged the Great God to remove his gifts. The priesthood had tried to convince Tellek that his actions were sanctioned by the Great God, as only He could have given the Swordsman his talents. Tellek, unconvinced, spent his entire life trying to find someone to defeat him so he could expiate his soul.

  Unfortunately, it took him until the First Great Alliance to die. He was seventy-five at the time, and he’d turned traitor to the northern side and had fought for the south. Of course, the Yardan king had been unwilling to get involved in the war in the first place, so his actions were unofficially sanctioned. It was even rumored, the bard sang, that Bicara, the queen of Yarda at the time, had persuaded her husband, Donrogan, to send Tellek to Tarquon to help fight off the attacking westerners and save the beautiful city.

  Tellek had gone, unwillingly of course, and managed to save the life of the Tarquon king and his family before the city was destroyed. He’d died in the palace when it collapsed in flames, and to this day his name was sung by the Tarquonese as that of a hero in the war, even though technically he’d been an enemy. The Norden bard who sang of him tonight also made him seem a hero in the fight against oppression, further emphasizing the general belief that the northerners had not truly wanted to fight in the Alliance wars.

  Vaun enjoyed the tale immensely, glad to find another of his kind disliked killing as much as he did. He tried to picture the faces he’d seen during his Bonding in an effort to figure out which one might have been Tellek, but saw the images as only a faint memory now. He wondered why the faces that had been so clear at the time of his Bonding were suddenly so blurry. He couldn’t figure out the reason, and hoped that one day he would see a painting of the Hero of Fallen Tarquon so he could put a face to the man he considered a kindred spirit.

  Still thinking of Tellek Ull and his many accomplishments, Vaun let his eyes drift unseeing over the smoke-filled, noisy room. He liked this place, he decided, and planned to visit it again once this mission was complete. Looking back down at his plate, he discovered a good bit of his dinner remained. Surprised at how absorbed he’d become in his perusal of the room and the bard’s tale, he attacked the mostly cold food with renewed gusto.

  20

  ULIC KICKED HIS HEELS INTO HIS HORSE’S SIDES, demanding more speed from the already sprinting animal. Grunting deeply in response, the horse found more speed from somewhere in its tired body and began to outdistance its fellows. It well knew the pain it would suffer if it failed its master.

  Ulic’s black bearded face stretched in a menacing grin as he closed on the running fugitives. He ignored the way his injuries chafed and jarred with each stride of his mount. The desperate panting of the horse he ignored, too. He must catch these fugitives. The emperor would surely torture him into a slow death if he failed.

  The big Mahalian guard pulled his flail free of the strap on his back. Just a few more seconds, and that scrawny kid wouldn’t be able to kill any more of his friends with that nice sword. Maybe he’d keep the thing as a souvenir when this was over.

  He flinched as an arrow zipped by his head, then whirled the flail fast enough to splatter that Ramen brat’s brains all over the snow.

  * * *

  Rush and Dart reached the treeline first. Not waiting to catch his breath, Dart strung his elven longbow and aimed an arrow at the guardsman only ten feet behind Vaun. Squinting in the harsh glare off the snow, he brought the big man’s forehead into sharp focus and released the bow string.

  Dart blinked. He held his bow out at arm’s length and stared at it. He blinked again.

  Rush turned to stare wide-eyed at his cousin. “How could you have missed, you leaf-brain?” Dart didn’t look at him, only shrugged, so Rush shook him. “Well, do something! He’s almost got Vaun!”

  Dart snapped back to awareness. Squinting in annoyance at his mischievous bow, he pulled and loosed three quick arrows. He didn’t trust his bow to hit the guard this time, so he concentrated on those he was certain he could hit.

  * * *

  Vaun’s side itched so badly he could barely keep running. All he could think of was reaching the trees less than fifty yards away. He knew the horseman almost had him, but still he thought of nothing but escape. The idea to turn and fight as he’d always done didn’t occur to him.

  The panic had come upon him when Rush first sprinted up to them to tell them there were fifteen guards chasing them. When the elf had told them they wore gold and black, and that they were on horseback, he imagined them to be dead guards come back to life to seek vengeance on them. Surely the Jaga had killed all of them! He’d heard neither the Song nor the Rhythm since then.

  They’d sold their horses at that last waystation, since the journey ahead would shortly make them useless. This forced them to outrun the mounted guards on foot. Perhaps that was why Vaun panicked so badly.

  The second arrow took the guard to the big one’s left in the throat. It flung the man over his horse, not giving him time to make any noise other than a muted gurgle. The third just barely slipped between the left eyeslit of the helmet on the guard on the opposite side. It spun him around in mid-air as he fell screaming to the snow. Dart’s aim seemed to have recovered.

  The first arrow that Dart loosed hit Vaun in the right shoulder. It sunk in fairly deep and spun him around, out of the main force of the flail that caught the side of his head. Vaun landed on his back, not realizing he’d drawn his sword despite the injury until he felt the weight of it tug painfully on his shoulder. Where had that arrow come from?

  He sat up slowly and rubbed his forehead, feeling wetness all over his face. That must be what blinded him. The pounding in his head hurt so bad Vaun didn’t realize at first it was caused by anything other than whatever had hit him. When he realized it was the Song, he gave himself to it, trusting its presence but not forgetting its earlier betrayal.

  * * *

  Ulic swore when the black-haired Ramener he’d been in the process of braining was knocked to the side. Had that arrow come from his friend? The youth then drew his sword while falling and sliced off the lower half of his mount’s right foreleg, causing the guard to swear more. He was too busy trying to avoid the animal as it fell to be amazed.

  Ulic struggled to his feet. “Fire-cursed Rameners! Just don’t know when to admit they’re dead.” He staggered over to the kid sitting up and wiping at the blood covering his eyes. Shaking his head at the stubbornness of such folk, he whipped his flail toward the young one’s head, determined to do more than graze him this time.

  He stopped in mid-swing, however, and dropped his flail in an effort to hold in his intestines that so suddenly tried to leap out of his body. He never saw his opponent move or strike, and he kept wondering why he was dying until he collapsed to the cold snow.

  * * *

  Vaun staggered upright and tried to shake the wetness from his eyes. That only made his head hurt worse, so he went back to wiping them. Only when his vision cleared enough for him to see did he notice that it wasn’t snow or water blinding him, but blood. It covered his hands, as it did his sword. The itch that suddenly caused his left side to spasm, though, didn’t provide him time to puzzle out the sensations that now reached him.

  * * *

  Rush looked with amazement at his cousin for the second time. “I can’t believe you hit him. How could you hit Vaun?”

  Dart shrugged. “Saved his life, didn’t it?”

  Rush shook his head. “Yeah, bu…” He couldn’t think of anything to say. “Just don’t go around saving my life any time soon.”

  Once they saw Vaun stagger upright and stumble toward the treeline ahead of the two closest horsemen, t
hey turned and headed into the trees ahead of the others. They could do nothing else, as Dart had run out of arrows. The rest of them were almost to the trees anyway, the deep snow having slowed them down more than it did the fleet-footed elves. Only the cousins had managed to stay together during their sprint across the mile-wide plain. It would take hours for them to regroup in this thick forest.

  * * *

  Drath dodged behind a tree to avoid the guard’s strike, swearing at not being able to help Vaun. He was still out in that field with two horsemen bearing down on him. It didn’t look like he’d make it.

  The horseman swore and yanked his sword free of the trunk in time to block Drath’s slash. He then kicked his heels into his horse, forcing the tall man back.

  Thorne found himself trapped between two of the mounted soldiers. He admired the way they’d woven through the tangled underbrush to surround him, and also the discipline that had kept them going after surviving the Jaga. Their torn uniforms and raw cuts attested to their hardship, though that didn’t keep them from swinging their weapons effectively. Thorne had been struck twice so far and had returned only misses.

  Just as the one in front of him slashed his sabre towards him again, a wildly yelling Merdel charged from the man’s opposite side and whacked him with a staff-sized branch. The dead wood broke over the man’s skull, knocking him from his horse. He then threw the remaining stick at the guard on the other side of Thorne.

  The guardsman slapped the stick away and urged his mount forward, only to have to dive free as it fell over from the dwarf’s blow to the side of its head. He was on his knees when Thorne drove the spiked end of his hammer through his helmet and killed him.

  Thorne met Merdel’s eyes and nodded. The wizard nodded back, and the two headed off toward where they heard the others fighting.

  Rush watched the guardsman ride towards him. Just a few more feet, and he’d be directly underneath. Like most people, the guard looked everywhere but up, making Rush’s use of his chameleon ability more habit than necessity. Several more feet, and the Mahalian scum would pay for what he’d done to Dart.

  * * *

  Morgan stopped beneath a tall pine tree to rest and scan the forest. Surely that other elf would be around here somewhere. The first one had fallen easily enough after he’d flung that dagger into Creslin’s heart. That had been an ice-cursed impressive throw. Thirty paces away and still able to find a crease in Creslin’s mail shirt. Morgan had paid him back, though, with a nice blow from his war hammer. He didn’t care if the strike had killed him or not, for surely the cold would.

  Huffing in frustration, Morgan glanced up at the snapping of a tree branch. All he saw was a blurred image of the tree that seemed to be falling towards him.

  * * *

  Rush sank one dagger into the guard’s neck and the other into his left kidney. The man cried out satisfactorily and slid off the horse’s back. Rush jumped down behind him and patted the remarkably calm animal on the neck. Guess he was lighter than he thought. The blond elf turned and spat on the dead guard before jogging back to where he’d left Dart.

  * * *

  Merdel sighed with relief when he saw it was Drath who crashed into the clearing where he and Thorne had met up with the elf cousins. His heart jumped into his throat, however, when the tall man stared at the four of them, puzzlement on his face. The wizard knew whom he looked for.

  Drath met Merdel’s eyes, worry coating his face. “Where’s Vaun Tarsus?”

  Merdel glanced briefly at the others in the bush-laden clearing before turning back to Drath. None of them returned his glance but rather tried to look involved in scanning the trees for more enemies or fidgeting with the snow covering everything. Dart was barely conscious and only stood because his loyal cousin held him up. Thorne busily rubbed snow on his multiple wounds to clean them, studiously avoiding looking anywhere but at himself.

  When Merdel eyed Drath, he saw the prince knew the answer to his question. The tall man choked out his question a second time just to convince himself he might be wrong.

  Merdel swallowed. “I’m sorry, Drath. I don’t think he made it this far.”

  Drath bowed his head and gritted his teeth to keep himself from collapsing. He mumbled about not helping Vaun when he should have and flinched when Merdel spoke again.

  “If it’s any consolation, I believe he died well. The way a Swordsman should.”

  Drath clenched his fists, and Merdel guessed he fought down the urge to throttle him. He’d said he wanted to often enough over the years. Drath talked incoherently to himself, though one phrase was clear: “Vaun should still be alive!”

  Tears welled in Merdel’s eyes. He hadn’t known the tall man cared for Vaun so much. “Drath, I…look out!”

  * * *

  Drath responded instinctually to Merdel’s cry and turned to see a huge man wielding an even bigger axe step around the tree behind him. Everything seemed to slow down.

  Drath clearly saw the axe head bearing down on him, and the murderous look in the Mahalian guard’s one eye. He saw the Jaga claw marks on the guard’s uniform, face, and arms. He saw the sunlight glint off the keen edge of the axe blade, and he closed his eyes. Let the man kill him; he had nothing else to lose now.

  Then Drath felt something pass in front of him. Blood splattered his face. He felt it on his chest and arms. It hit him in the face again. Then it fell down on him in a warm spray of droplets.

  The tall man opened his eyes to see Vaun Tarsus standing unsteadily before him. Blood covered the youth and his sword. He had several cuts in various places, and an arrow stood out of his right shoulder. Were those Dart’s feathers on the end of the shaft?

  “I…I thought he was going to hurt you.” Vaun then promptly fell down next to the four pieces he’d made of the last survivor of the Jaga hunt.

  Drath sprang to his companion’s side and helped him sit up. Vaun looked first at Drath and then over at his handiwork. He vomited at the sight. Several times.

  The tall man held Vaun until the youth regained control of himself, thinking how glad he was that Vaun was so protective of him. He picked up a handful of snow and wiped Vaun’s hot face, trying to clean off some of the blood. Thankfully, his head wound seemed shallow. When Thorne came over, they helped the Swordsman to his feet.

  Vaun studied his companions as they gathered around him. He then glanced down at what remained of the guard who’d almost killed Drath, as well as at the results of his first look. “I’ve got to stop doing that.”

  Merdel chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know, Swordsman. I think that’s the only thing keeping you from doing that to everyone.”

  Vaun couldn’t laugh with the others. “Are there any more soldiers?”

  They all looked around at each other for a minute. “I don’t think so.” Drath shook his head. “A tree branch saved me from the first one who caught up to me, and I didn’t see any others.” The others briefly recounted their initial encounters, Merdel explaining how simpler, easier-to-cast spells could be just as effective as killing spells that drained him nearly dry, then agreed with Drath on the absence of any other enemies.

  “What about you, Vaun Tarsus?” Drath asked. “Last I saw, you were being run down by two horsemen.”

  Vaun shrugged, a limp movement. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see well enough to tell what I did. I just knew they were dead when my side stopped itching.”

  * * *

  Estafar, Collin, and Mano watched the six fugitives gather themselves together and head off into the woods. Though they were tired and cut up, they were still twice as many. Plus, Duncan had flown about ten feet and impaled himself on a stubbed tree branch a dozen feet off the ground, and that wizard had only pointed at him!

  That tall one had the gods’ own luck. If Lott hadn’t charged into that tree, he’d would’ve had him. And that Ramen slayer wasn’t about to fool them into thinking he was out. They’d seen what he’d done to Ulic, Federo, and Phillipe, and they’d been on horseb
ack. And he’d done it left-handed!

  No, Emperor Quiris’ enemies were not worth so many lives, no matter what he said. They knew the emperor would try to hunt them down and kill them if they ran, but how would he know if he never heard anything of any of them again? Plus, he couldn’t kill the three of them if he never found them. There were places in the world even the emperor of mighty Mahal could not reach.

  * * *

  A thousand enemies surrounded him, and the Song would not come. Slowly, each one came to him, fought him, and defeated him easily. And the Song made no sound.

  Another thousand replaced the first, but this time the Song guided him, and the Rhythm drove him on. He danced and glided amongst them. He slew them all. And the Song sang of his triumph.

  Again he fought, and again the Song abandoned him. Then he fought some more, and it was there. He could neither call it nor control it. No part of him could touch the Song of Battle on its own. The Song chose when it came and when it did not. It was mocking him….

  Vaun bolted upright, sweating, and gasped great clouds of breath, letting the cold northern air drive his nightmares away. He shivered as his sweat froze to his skin and reached to pull his blankets up around him. Pain shot down his right arm from his shoulder, then rebounded and traveled up to his neck. His entire arm went numb with agony, and he barely kept himself from crying out.

  He couldn’t believe Dart had hit him with an arrow. Sure, it had saved his life and had only been a target arrow, but hitting that big guard instead would’ve saved his life, too. Dart claimed he did it because his mischievous bow wouldn’t obey his commands. Vaun thought he’d just gone crazy.

  But what had happened to the Song hurt him far more than one of his comrades shooting him with an arrow to save his life. It had abandoned him. It hadn’t come when he needed it. It hadn’t come when he tried to call it. It had allowed him to panic and run like a child. Only Dart’s arrow had kept him from being killed.