by Greg Curtis
That didn't please Heri at all, and he snarled at him like a rabid dog, words apparently failing him. But he still had a knife in his hand, its blade dripping with some sort of black liquid that ate the light around it, and Sam knew he was in trouble. Sam gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, assuming a defensive stance. At least he was armed, even if he could barely see for the pain in his head.
“There is no fear. There is no doubt. There is no pain. There is only the battle.” It had been a long time since Sam had spoken the creed of the warrior out loud. He'd seldom had the need. But it was good to hear the words again, and better to feel their strength flowing through him. A warrior was always ready. There were no excuses. There could be no failure. Years and years on the parade grounds being drilled in his weapons every day and being pushed to breaking point had taught him that.
As Heri advanced on him he pushed aside the noise trying to tear his head apart, pushed aside the pain and weakness in his back too and even forgot that he had no magic. None of that mattered. Instead he focussed only on the battle and the sword in his hands.
Heri must have seen that in his eyes, and he started goading him, determined to break his concentration.
“You know your own mother and your nearly born sister died at my mother's hands. She poisoned her just as she was about to give birth. There could be no more half elf bastards running around the kingdom.”
Heri lunged at him, hoping his words would distract him, but he was out of luck. There was only the battle and only the blade in his hand, and Sam simply deflected his attack with a simple flick of his sword. He left the words for later.
“You know I'm going to kill Ryshal.” Heri tried another lunge with the poisoned blade, and Sam deflected it again, spinning him around.
He might be weaker than normal, but his technique was still working perfectly.
“After I have her.” This time Heri used a surprising twisting spin blow, hoping to come under his guard, but it was easily enough blocked.
“Again.”
There it was, that last nasty accusation designed to throw Sam off just as he took aim with his blade and hurled it at him with all his strength. But Sam had expected it, and he would never allow Heri to distract him. A simple twist and the blade shot straight past him to land somewhere among the trees. Suddenly Heri was unarmed.
His half-brother looked up at him, suddenly frightened as he realised he was helpless and about to die. Sam could see the fear in his eyes, and though it was wrong he knew a moment of intense pleasure at the sight. But of course it wasn't over. He still had to take Heri's head.
Heri though had other ideas and he spun on his heels like a dancer and dashed frantically for the horses, thinking either to flee or to grab another weapon. Whichever it was he was out of luck. Seeing him break and run Sam simply raised his greatsword over his head, and with a two handed cast, hurled it straight at his retreating back with all the strength he had.
It was a good throw. The blade cut through the air, spinning like a top, before burying itself hilt deep in the small of his back with a thump. Heri went down with a gasp, collapsing on the ground in a bloody tangle of limbs and leather, and Sam knew the blow had been a serious one. He might not be dead yet, but he soon would be. Surely by the All Father he would soon be gone from this world!
Before Sam could celebrate though, he had some snakes to kill.
Calmly, still somehow putting the pain in his head out of his thoughts, he walked over to his horse and drew his crossbow from her pack, Shadow vipers were nasty creatures, and as Heri had said, especially dangerous to those with sharp ears such as the elves and the sylph. But they were also incredibly rare and very hard to control. Just squeezing them into the armour would have been a struggle, and then getting them on top of the horses another. The horses wouldn't have liked it either. Somewhere in amongst them he knew, would be their handler. A wizard gifted with some sort of control over them. It had to be one of the advisers, both of whom were staring at him with a look of fear and horror on their faces. Things weren't working out as they had expected. Everyone was supposed to have been overcome by their creatures. Suddenly they were facing a warrior and their creatures had no real power other than their hiss.
The advisers clearly thought they were about to die. They assumed that Sam was going to put a bolt through their hearts and were panicking. It was ironic really. They'd brought what they had thought was an army that was all but unassailable by the elves, and they were right. But against a single half elf with a crossbow and a sword they were helpless. To add to the irony Heri had brought them for his defence, but when he'd fallen they'd discovered that they needed him as much as he needed them.
“Get down.” He gave the order and the two advisers obeyed without so much as a word of protest. No doubt they thought he was going to kill them on the spot but they were still too frightened to disobey him. In truth he wanted to kill them. The pain was terrible.
But he couldn't kill them yet. To kill the handler would be to release the vipers from their control, and then they would run wild, killing any elves they found still lying helpless on the ground.
So instead he put his first bolt straight through the centre of the nearest creature's breastplate, fairly much where a man's heart would be. He wasn't completely sure that these foul things had hearts, but it must have been enough as the viper suddenly screeched madly and fell off the horse, before writhing away on the ground in its death throes.
Bits of its armour fell off as it writhed, revealing the true horror of the creature. With the gauntlets gone, he could see the snake like tentacles it had for arms bursting free, and once the helm rolled away, its viper like head popped out. In fact it even had a forked tongue like a snake sticking out between its fangs.
Though he'd never seen one before, he knew from the tales that the creatures were built like starfish, with four snake like tentacles where a man would have arms and legs, and a viper's head on what was another tentacle. They were truly frightening creatures, especially in the distant swamps of Arusid where they lived. Their bodies didn't allow them to walk, but they didn't need to. They used their tentacles to pull themselves quickly along the soft ground, and the poison from their fangs to kill their prey before they wrapped it up and crushed it into a pulp to drink.
The vipers had weaknesses though, and the greatest of them was that they weren't strong fighters. They would never attack a creature that hadn't fallen victim to their hiss. They couldn't use weapons, and wrapped up head to foot in armour as they were, they were almost helpless. Save for their hiss. Their hiss was a weapon they used to great effect against creatures with sharp hearing, which was why the elves with their acute hearing were so vulnerable. As a half elf Sam was apparently far less vulnerable.
The response to the first viper guard's death was immediate as the advisers and the remaining vipers all spun around on their heels and tried to mount up and gallop for safety, hissing all the way. Their handler was hoping to use their hissing as a shield as he fled the town. But there could be no escape for them.
“Stop!” Sam bellowed it at the advisers at the top of his lungs. By then he already had the next bolt loaded. “Let go of the reins or I put the next bolt in your back.”
Of course he could only kill one of them, and if they'd been thinking clearly they would have realised that. But they weren't soldiers and they didn't think like them. They didn't even realise that they might have had time to flee between each bolt as it took him a few moments to reload each one. One of them might get away. So instead they just turned back to him and stood there staring at him, paralysed with fear.
“Now lie face down on the ground.”
They did it, their terror preventing them from understanding that the only reason he was doing it was to slow them down. To make it harder for them to run away. It worked.
But what worked even better was when an arrow suddenly found its way deep into the chest of another viper. It wasn't his. He had a crossbow firin
g heavy bolts. This was a full three foot length of wood with a metal tip loosed from a long bow.
Sam turned to see Mayvelle standing there, longbow in hand, a pained look on her face, but determination in her eyes. She too could resist the hiss. And she was already reaching for another arrow.
That was Sam's cue to release a second bolt into a second viper chest.
After that it was straight forward. One by one they put the vipers down in front of them. And fortunately they died easily enough while their masters lay there in terror, knowing that when the vipers were gone they'd be completely defenceless.
Both of them he realised were minor wizards. Untrained and with only a few spells to their name. But those spells they'd learned thoroughly. Neither of them though could use a weapon. Neither of them had so much as a fireball to their name. And neither of them could plan their way out of a tent. If they'd been thinking they would have sent half the vipers his way for him to deal with, and used the other half to make their escape while he was busy. But they weren't soldiers. Just black hearted rogues. And they were too frightened to think.
So they lay there, their faces in the dirt, while he and Mayvelle destroyed their army soldier by soldier.
Each viper that fell to the ground lessened the noise in his head, and all around he could see the anguish on the faces of the others lessening as well. In time as they kept killing the creatures, some of the elves even managed to get to their feet and draw their weapons. And so by the end the creatures were falling thanks to his bolts and a number of other elven arrows.
After that the battle was over. Heri was still lying on the ground and dying slowly. The vipers were all dead and only the two advisers remained to be dealt with. One was the wizard who had controlled the vipers, and the other at a guess was a wizard who had managed to hide their nature from the elves and had presumably kept the horses under control. Had the elves realised what they were they would have been dead long before they reached the town.
Neither of the men stood a chance against the elves. They were swiftly gathered up and dragged away from their mounts, bound hand and foot and brought before the elders for judgement. Judging from the elders' faces, it would not be a pleasant fate that awaited them. The pain from the creatures' hissing was still with them. But Sam didn't care about any of that. Nor that Mayvelle had fairly much proven that she had human blood in her veins. He didn't even care about Heri slowly dying on the ground in front of him. He went to Ryshal instead, and helped her and her parents up.
They were pale and shaking, much as he had expected. Much as he probably was himself. That hiss was a dreadful thing. But they were unharmed.
“Aylin mi elle, are you all right?” It was the only thing that mattered as he held his wife tight, and finally let some of the emotion that he'd been holding back, run free.
“Praise the Goddess I'm well husband. But you need the healers immediately!”
She was right as he suddenly realised that he'd somehow forgotten about the knife in his back in the heat of battle. Or maybe it was simply that with that terrible hiss gone, the relief had robbed him of any ability to feel pain. Ry though was staring at it as though it was a demon. Though to be fair it wasn't hurting as much as it had at the start. That of course might not be a good thing. But as the tears of relief trickled out of the corners of his eyes and ran down his cheeks, he didn't really care.
After that things became a little confused. Healers turned up out of nowhere, and started tending to those who still weren't able to get up. One of them pulled him away from Ry and swiftly had him lying on the ground as they pulled the knife free. It hurt, but only for a few heartbeats as they pushed their healing magic into his flesh.
They told him that the wound was nasty but that he would make a full recovery, so he didn't really care that much. He was more curious that a thrown knife – even one thrown by a mechanical device had managed to pierce his back plate. In time he'd have to look at that device, just to see how powerful it actually was.
At some point someone returned his greatsword to him, and he gathered that they were now healing Heri. If he had still been alive at the time that they pulled it out of his back. Of course he was sure he was. Demons didn't die easily. Sam vehemently hoped that the removal of his greatsword from Heri's back had at least caused him sheer agony.
Then someone dragged out a stretcher from nowhere, and they tried to make him lie down on it. Sam tried to refuse, telling them he could walk, and that it was undignified to be carried away like that. But Ry would have none of it. She pushed him down onto it and after that he was swiftly carried away, though four elves were needed to lift his bulk off the ground. In all his armour it wasn't surprising. But at least Ry was with him, holding his hand and telling him everything was going to be all right. With her beside him he was sure it would be.
The only sour note in fact was that as he was led away he could hear his brother's voice somewhere in the distance, and knew that somehow he still lived. Weak and thin, he was begging for mercy and promising to tell anyone who would listen all sorts of secrets. And though it would be a mistake, Sam knew enough of his wife's people to know that they would consider it even after all he'd done. Sometimes he thought the elves might be a people too decent for their own good.
Certainly they were too decent for his.
Chapter Twenty Five.
“Samual.”
Sam looked up as he heard Elder Bela calling his name to see the Elder standing there on the grass by their wagon with War Master Wyldred beside him. They were his two most regular and most annoying visitors. He sighed, wondering why they were bothering him again. He was supposed to be resting while he recovered from his injury, and was not to be disturbed. Or so the healers had instructed. But really he felt fine. His magic had returned as he had known it would. And mostly he was simply enjoying being fussed over a little. Ry was very good at fussing. And it was cold outside.
Unfortunately it seemed that that time had passed. It had been six days. He felt fully fit save for a few minor twinges. And there was undoubtedly work to do. But from the looks on his visitor's faces, not pleasant work.
Naturally there was only one matter of late that could make them look so unhappy.
“The toad's made a full recovery hasn't he?” Sam could tell that from the somewhat sour expression on the Elder's face. It was a disgrace to let Heri live, and probably a mistake, and they all knew it. Heri would be back to cause more trouble sooner or later. But the elves weren't cold blooded enough to kill a wounded man in cold blood. They'd tended to his wounds instead.
“No. Not full. But enough to be on his way. And we have agreed to let him go.” Elder Bela shook his head. “But he will never be able to harm you or your family again. I promise you that.”
Promises were being given too freely these days in Sam's opinion, and too often they couldn't be kept. But instead of railing against them for making them he held his temper. After all, he had promised never to cross the elders. But still a little of his bitterness escaped.
“You should have let him die. Why didn't you Elder? It would have been for the best. It would have been justice.”
“Because he had information. Knowledge of crimes against our people. Brigands who have crossed us. Even some knowledge of the rats and their master.”
“He always has information,” Sam told him bitterly. Information was always one of his little brother's most valuable weapons. But at some point he thought, you had to stop trading for it.
Yet his true bitterness wasn't for them or their deal. He understood them. It was for himself. For once again underestimating his brother. And for letting himself belief the tall tales about the Fire Angel that everyone kept spouting. He might be a powerful mage. He might have fire magic as powerful as any other. But he still had huge weaknesses. And he kept forgetting that. Heri had exposed one of them, he could be tricked as easily as any other. He should never have allowed himself to fall prey to Heri's trap. He should have killed him
the instant he saw him.
“Nonetheless, it is time for him to be released according to our deal and we thought you should be there for that if you're strong enough.”
“I'm strong enough.” Physically that was the truth. In his heart though he didn't know if he could stand to see Heri go free. Still, it had been agreed, and he mounted up and followed the elders back to the Council clearing.
Nothing was said as they rode. Sam was in no mood to speak and he didn't completely trust himself to say the right thing anyway. The others seemed no more talkative than he was.
At least Heri looked less like a king than he had Sam decided when he finally set eyes on his half-brother. The knife he had put in Sam's back had hurt. But the greatsword Sam had put in Heri's had done far more serious damage and Heri was still largely bedridden. In fact he was lying in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by elders, on a light weight cot. It seemed that they had simply carried him here from the healers' tent.
Gone too were his robes. The expensive ermine had been removed, his armour as well, and he had been clothed in typical day wear for an elf. If there was one thing he didn't look like just then, it was a king. But then he wasn't a king. Not anymore. According to what they had learned from him, Heri had destroyed his castle and his city, pretended to be dead, and had run away. If he'd had any sense Sam thought, he should have simply kept running. But he didn't. He had too much hatred to listen to common sense. Hatred that showed itself even as Sam and the others dismounted.
