Samual

by Greg Curtis

  “I don't have to destroy them. I just have to kill you now.” Why was the troll blood still edging to his side? Still going for an exit? Or was he turning him? Getting him out of position? Sam didn't know. But he was suspicious.

  The Dragon took two more quick steps to his left and then suddenly lunged at him and Sam discovered his plan even as he found his blade hemmed in against the wall. He couldn't swing it as he needed to, to parry the Dragon's knife. Fortunately he could dance back a step and let the Dragon's attack fall short. Then he took half a step away from the wall and countered, striking for his eyes.

  It was the Dragon's turn to dance back in fear, dropping the knife and reaching once more for his axe. As he did so Sam sent another blast of ice shards at him. This time when the Dragon had finished twisting and turning there was blood running down his cheek. A lot of it.

  There was also fury in his eyes, and it made him dangerous. Even as he was twisting to avoid the ice blast, the Dragon managed a side step and lunged at him, and Sam had to dodge quickly in turn. One thing was certain. The Dragon wasn't letting his injuries slow him down. If anything he was getting faster.

  Which was when Sam released the scything spell on the sword, full in the middle of the Dragon's chest. It was spectacular, and for a moment both of them were blinded by the fire. But the Dragon's armour proved tougher than the wings of his drakes, and when he was done his enemy was unharmed. So Sam hit him with yet another ice blast sending him flying backwards and making him snarl once more.

  “Whore!” The Dragon quickly returned to the fight. But he looked rattled.

  “Ready to pay for your crimes?” Sam goaded him some more, then had to doge and twist again as the Dragon leapt for him, swinging both axes wildly. By the gods he was fast! But it was desperation and fear powering him. And again he overreached and Sam delivered another kick to his back that sent the Dragon sprawling.

  “My crimes?!” The Dragon got to his feet and spat in fury on the ground. “I have committed no crimes. I obey my Lord.”

  This time the Dragon didn't make the same mistake. He spun his axes in a furious set of arcs but never over extended as he advanced on Sam. Unfortunately for him Sam's greatsword had a greater reach and a step before the Dragon reached him he raised it and stepped into the attack, thrusting it straight into his gut.

  Three feet of the best tempered steel with a diamond sharpened point would not be stopped by any armour no matter how pretty, and the sword punched through it to skewer the Dragon nicely. When Sam withdrew it there was a good six inches of blood on the end of it. It wasn't a deadly strike – the Dragon had twisted as the blade had ripped into him causing it to miss his target – but Sam knew as he watched the Dragon leap back and scream in pain, that it would cripple him. Certainly it would slow him down.

  Others knew it too. Sam could hear the elves cheering through the Window as they looked on. No doubt they thought it was a greater blow than it was.

  “Bastard!” The Dragon cursed him. “May Crodan take your soul!”

  “You follow the Mountain God?” Sam was happy to talk. Especially now. Partly because he was curious. But also because he knew the longer he kept his enemy talking the more blood he would be losing and the slower he would get.

  “I am first shaman!” The Dragon spat on the ground once more. Then he tried a half lunge, dodging towards him but staying just out of reach of Sam's blade, hoping to get him to swing at him and lose position. Sam wasn't that ill-trained though and he guessed the tactic. He held his position, the sword between them and watched as a trickle of red emerged from underneath the Dragon's breast plate and ran down his leg. And if he was leaking that much blood outside his armour it had to be much worse inside.

  “Not very priestly are you?” Sam goaded him a little.

  “Spoken by a wizard!” The Dragon let his temper loose and tried a feint, dancing to one side and seeming to strike with the axe in his left hand before swapping sides. He wanted to get Sam's sword following him the wrong way so he could slip past it. But Sam was too well trained for that. He'd seen the Dragon's feet move and expected the attack. And that gave him just enough time to punch the tip of his sword through the Dragon's shoulder.

  “And a knight.” Sam smiled happily as the Dragon leapt back, startled and bleeding from another wound. He smiled some more at the Dragon's look of pain.

  Unfortunately it was his off hand that he'd hit and the Dragon responded by hurling his other axe with his good hand at Sam. This time Sam couldn't quite avoid the blow. And though it bounced off his breast plate, it had been thrown with all the speed and strength a desperate and frightened troll blood could muster. It was enough to buckle the plate and knock him back a couple of steps. Enough to make Ryshal scream in terror.

  “And a witless servant of the elves' puny Goddess.”

  “I follow the All Father.” Sam felt the need to correct him even though he had no issue with the Goddess. “And now you only have one axe!”

  “Really? You returned the phoenix to the world – the Goddess' blessed symbol and pet. And you were protected by dragons, the children of Draco, Lord of the Skies, and the Goddess' companion. At what point did you think that the All Father stood by you?”

  “At this point.”

  Sam flinched a little as a new voice came from the side, as did the Dragon. And then he shifted his gaze just enough to see the beggar standing there. And the shocking thing was that he knew the voice. He even knew the face.

  “Heri?” It was him he slowly realised. But he didn't look very much like himself. He had a full beard that by the looks of it hadn't been attended to with a comb or brush in months. His hair was long and unkempt. The skin of his face had been burnt by the sun. And he was painfully gaunt, his arms showing skin stretched over bone. Sam almost couldn't believe it was his brother.

  Unfortunately he'd taken his eyes off the Dragon, and by the time he returned them to his enemy, an axe was already flying at his head. Sam knew then that he was dead even as he belatedly tried to dodge. But he didn't die. Instead the axe stopped in mid-air for no reason before falling to the ground between them, while back in new Shavarra Ryshal's terrified scream slowly died away.

  “That is the name of this vessel.”

  Heri lowered his hand, a small shoot in it, and Sam guessed that he was the reason the axe had been stopped. But he couldn't understand how or why it had happened. Heri had no magic and he wanted him dead. Didn't he?

  “But you servant of Crodan, have annoyed me for the last time.” Heri turned to the Dragon who was finally looking frightened. But he wasn't moving.

  “Five thousand years ago your predecessor tried to destroy the world as your Lord tried to usurp his brothers and sisters. He was stopped by them. And he swore to do better in future. He swore to me! Now despite his word given to me, he has tried again through you, and again he has been stopped. I will not allow this to happen a third time.”

  Whoever “I” was, clearly wasn't Heri, Sam realised. If nothing else Heri wasn't five thousand years old or claiming to be a vessel. And what was a vessel?

  “Tell your deceitful Lord this as he runs away and hides from me while he licks his wounds. No more! Draco's workshops are now sealed forever from his servants. And his ugly little offspring race may no longer retain his grace. That gift is taken from them, and the ability to bestow it is taken from Crodan. They will return to the beasts they were. He will have no more followers.”

  “But –.”

  The Dragon's words were cut off with a scream as in the space of a heartbeat he was transformed into burning white light. A column of it that reached for the skies. It was so bright that it forced Sam to close his eyes, cover them with an arm and then turn away. Even then it was painful. He could actually see the bones of his arm in front of him.

  Mercifully it ended quickly, though even afterwards he couldn't see anything but brilliant reds and greens for ages. But though he was blinded, Sam knew he was safe. The Dragon was gone. Pres
umably dead. Which meant that the First Shaman was supposed to give the message to his master in the afterlife. Was that possible?

  And Heri was obviously no longer Heri.

  But was he the All Father? That Sam couldn't quite believe. After all it was Heri. He had never believed in the gods and he would never willingly serve one. And the king of gods? Here, with him? That couldn't possibly be true. Sam thought about asking, but stopped. Somehow it didn't seem right to ask – and he wasn't sure he wanted the answers. So he stood there in silence and waited – wondering what happened next.

  “You did well little one. Though I did have to step in a couple of times. I will see that my servants tell your story with pride.”

  With that he was gone in another flash of light, and whether he was the All Father or Heri, Sam didn't know. In any case he still couldn't see anything except impossibly vibrant colours everywhere. But he heard a popping sound and somehow knew he had left.

  In time he heard cheering. Laughter and applause. It was loud and uncontrolled and growing all the time in volume as more and more joined in. And despite everything Sam wanted to join with them. Because he knew it could only mean that the war was over. But he could barely see anything at all and the soldier in him knew he could never give in to emotion when there might be an enemy about. So he contained his emotions and did his best to search the warehouse for any trace of the Dragon or his steel wolves.

  It felt like years passed before his vision returned to normal and the cheering and applause died away so that he could hear again. And when it was finally as it should be Sam knew enough to finally believe it was over. Enough to sheath his sword. There was no sign of the Dragon. No sign of his half-brother either. The roof was missing too when he looked up. Completely gone. What little of it had been left had vanished along with most of the top story of the building. Now there weren't even half burnt beams connecting the walls together. The Dragon's funeral pyre had apparently turned them to ash.

  It was over! The duel, the battle and even the war. The Dragon had been defeated. A god had been defeated!

  It took Sam some time to let that understanding wash over him. To let it sink in. And all the time he stood there, staring, hunting for any sign of either Heri or the Dragon. Because it just didn't seem right that they could be gone. They never left. They were always somewhere, making trouble and spreading misery. That was the curse they were. And yet in time he knew that simple fact for the truth. They were gone.

  Which left him standing there, wondering what to do.

  He wasn't alone in that of course. As the noise from the window slowly died away he could hear the elders starting to discuss things among themselves. Asking questions. Though not the questions he cared about. They wanted to know how the All Father had somehow ended up being involved in this mess. They were elves after all. It should have been the Goddess who had saved them as far as they were concerned. And the dragons were the children of Draco, Lord of the Skies and companion to the Goddess. The All Father was a human god.

  Sam though didn't care. Really he was just thankful that there was nothing left to do. It was over. He could go home. To his wife. And to their child yet to be born.

  And he realised, he could do one thing more. He could stop being the Fire Angel. But then he suddenly understood, he never had been. That had been something of the gods. They had granted him the extra magic. Made him into a wizard far more powerful than he was. And he didn't know why. Especially when at the end he had defeated the Dragon with an artefact he suspected they had provided, his less powerful earth magic, and his trusty sword. But perhaps it had been necessary to have the Fire Angel walk the land to bring the people hope? To frighten their enemies. And ultimately to rebirth the phoenix. Now those things were done. And it being over, the gods had taken the magic back. He was no longer the Fire Angel. He might not even be a master of fire magic.

  But that was a good thing. Partly because he had never wanted to be the Fire Angel, and now that the Dragon was defeated, he had no need to be him either. But mostly because what he wanted to be was a simple husband and father. And if losing a little magic was the price for that, he would have paid it gladly a thousand times over.

  Heri would never have understood such a thing. For whatever reason he craved power. And now Sam understood, he was somewhere paying the price for giving in to that craving. Meanwhile Sam intended to be rewarded. And there was only one thing he wanted.

  “Ryshal, aylin mi elle.” He called to Ryshal and after several attempts finally managed to attract her attention. Things were still somewhat loud on the other side of the window as the elders lost themselves in their conversations. It took her some time to squeeze her way through the elders as they discussed the events of the day at somewhat loud volumes and with arms waving. In fact he thought, they looked distinctly unelven.

  “My beloved?” She couldn't stop smiling as she stared at him, and though there were tears running down her cheeks they were only of joy. And though it was unmanly, Sam had tears in his eyes too.

  There were so many things he wanted to say to her. Things of his heart and soul. And he almost did. But in the end he was a king's son, and there were people listening to everything he said. He had to always control his tongue. So he limited himself to the only thing that mattered. To what he had promised his wife. And a promise he was going to keep.

  “Boil some water for the tea please. I'm coming home. I just have to go and find my riding moose!”

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Heri was annoyed when he unexpectedly found himself standing on the edge of a lake. Partly because he had no idea where was. But mostly because of what had happened before he had been brought here.

  He had had his brother there in front of him. He had had a knife in his hands. And it would have been so easy while Samual was distracted by the Dragon to simply step up behind him and plunge a knife in his back. But he hadn't. He'd wanted to. He'd begged for the chance. But no matter what he hadn't been able to. He had been impotent.

  And then as if that wasn't bad enough he'd saved his miserable half-brother's life! That axe would have cleaved Samual's skull in two. All he had had to do was let it. But he couldn't. Instead he had raised the shoot and stopped it. How could he have done that?! Samual had to die!

  But when he heard the bone crunching snap of jaws behind him, he knew that he had bigger problems. That damned snap wolf was still with him. Still guarding him. And when he turned to look at it, he knew he was still on the menu. The beast might be controlled in some way, but it still thought of him as a meal.

  How could any god be so cruel to him? And the All Father of all gods! He had paid for the upkeep of his temple in Fall Keep. He'd accepted the holidays the temple demanded on behalf of his people. He had even banned some of those temples that the All Father's priests found objectionable. And this was how he rewarded him? Saving Samual and bringing him here to some worthless lake in the wilds? The miserable worm ridden piece of dung!

  “Wild root tea?”

  Heri spun as the man's voice came from behind him, startling him. And then when he saw him he stopped dead, forgetting his anger at the All Father in his disbelief. He'd recognised the voice. But he hadn't considered who the voice belonged to until he saw the face. And that accursed beard! When he did though Heri didn't know what to think.

  “You're dead!” Eventually the words slipped out of him. He couldn't stop them. But he knew they were true. He'd poisoned the wizard himself.

  “What, a little sand scorpion poison?” Augrim chuckled quietly as he sat beside a fire checking on the progress of a kettle as it boiled. “You really thought that would harm me?”

  Heri's anger flowed at the wizard's mockery. How dare he speak to him like that! And before he even thought about it a curse found his tongue. But he couldn't speak it. The words just wouldn't make it out of his mouth.

  “No bad language now!” Augrim's annoying smile grew broader. “That's not allowed.”

  Unexpec
tedly the wizard reached out an arm in welcome, but not to Heri. Instead he welcomed the wolf to him, and when it came he started running his fingers through the fur on the top of its head. The wolf actually seemed to like that. So much so that it collapsed down on to the ground to let him continue.

  “Now come, sit.” Augrim indicated a flat rock beside him. “From what I understand you've had a difficult day and a little tea will help.”

  Despite not really wanting to Heri did as the wizard said, taking the proffered seat and accepting the mug of tea. He had to remember that Augrim was a wizard. He had power. Power over a snap wolf for a start. And Augrim was right, the tea did help a little. It was strong but still palatable, and the heady aroma returned a little life to his tired brain. It let him start thinking about things again. To start asking questions.

  “Where are we?”

  “Where we need to be of course,” Augrim answered him cryptically.