Between White and Grey (Sphereworld: Joined at the Hilt: Origins Book 1)

by Caleb Wachter

  Nodding wordlessly, Tavleros turned and began to stagger down the length of the wall in the direction Rimidalv and Ser Cavulus had gone.

  Thankfully, none of the new soldiers bore bows and Yaerilys turned to follow her fellow star child as they retreated along the top of the wall to escape the approaching swarm of soldiers.

  Smashing the seventh trebuchet was much easier than the first few, and Dan’Moread was able to shatter the locking mechanism with only three blows to its thick, iron brackets.

  Kanjin’s arms, while light and tense from exertion, were still responding to Dan’Moread’s commands—a marked improvement from the first time they had fought together so many years before.

  Well done, Kanjin, she congratulated as they set off toward the next trebuchet. The White Knight had already cleared the tenth siege weapon, and the last two were now surrounded by a swarm of men through which the White Knight appeared to be making little progress.

  “We must help Ser Cavulus,” Kanjin argued through deep, measured breaths. His fitness at that moment was greater than any wielder Dan’Moread had served with, and she was filled with pride at being able to fight alongside him.

  No! Rimidalv barked as his wielder swung him wide, sending the oncoming wave of soldiers scurrying back in fear. To watch the White Blade in action beneath the rays of the morning sun was a magnificent spectacle, and once again Dan’Moread was envious as Rimidalv continued, The Greystone soldiers approach and without their help we will certainly fall. The gate must open, Dan’Moread; see that it does.

  Looking over the edge, she saw that the majority of General Birchaud’s force was still half a mile away, but nearly a hundred mounted warriors—led by the General himself—rode ahead of the host and had almost reached the still-closed gates. They had less than a minute before reaching the entrance, and despite the thrill of battle she felt, Dan’Moread knew that Rimidalv was right.

  I will see it done, she replied as she ran to the rear edge of the wall just as Yaerilys and Tavleros made their way past her and Kanjin’s position. There were four huge, curved buttresses which ran from the rear edge of the wall down to the ground below, extending some hundred feet back from the wall itself like massive braces, which was precisely what they were.

  Dan’Moread knew she had just found the only way to the ground below which would get her there quickly enough to let the Greystone cavalry inside the Storm Fort.

  “Dan’Moread,” Kanjin said uneasily, “you aren’t thinking—“

  I have done this before, Kanjin, she assured him as she took a few steps back in preparation for their descent.

  “Maybe; but I haven’t—” he protested as she vaulted them up and over the wall. They landed on the steep, curved buttress and Dan’Moread gripped her own hilt with her wielder’s iron-gauntleted hands as tightly as she could without damaging them—or the hands within. Driving her tip into the stone at their side, she was able to guide their descent and avoid falling a hundred feet to the ground below as the rear metal of their armor scraped against the strange stone of the buttress.

  Their weight shifted precariously just a few feet down the buttress, and she instinctively jammed her tip into the stone and it bit far deeper than she had expected. The result very nearly cost them their lives, but she was able to react and sprawl her wielder’s body out enough to counteract the sudden jolt as she withdrew her tip from the mushy, soft ‘stone.’

  The fall seemed to last for minutes as she struggled to keep them on top of the curved support, which thanks to her tempered star metal tip, they were able to do. Three fourths of the way down she was able to get her wielder’s feet beneath them and she ran the rest of the way down the buttress, leaping off as soon as it was safe to do so.

  They landed on the ground below and Dan’Moread tore through a nearby soldier’s presented shield, taking the soldier in the neck with enough power to drop him to the ground in a heap from the first blow. There looked to be only two more soldiers between her and the gatehouse. Dan’Moread had no idea where the rest of the soldiers were, but she knew that she needed to take advantage of her good fortune before it vanished.

  She heard a great, cracking sound from behind her, and for a moment she actually feared that the mountain had split apart. But she had no time to satisfy her curiosity, since the two remaining soldiers were now before her with weapons raised.

  Dan’Moread went low, prompting the first soldier to block with the head of his axe. Pivoting quickly, she stomped downward on the haft of the axe and forced the soldier to fall forward, temporarily off-balance.

  That moment was all she needed as she drew her edge along the man’s shoulder, biting deep into the metal of his pauldron and rending the flesh beneath.

  His arm spasmed and he let his grip on the axe go briefly, and she brought Kanjin’s heavily-armored shin into the soldier’s briefly exposed throat. There was a gurgle of blood which erupted from the man’s mouth as he collapsed to the ground in a heap, and Dan’Moread turned her attention to the last remaining gatehouse soldier.

  This one wielded a narrow, slightly curved, unfamiliar sword in his hands and wore no armor. Instead he worse a strange robe of some kind with long, wide sleeves. His hair was tied in a neat topknot, and Dan’Moread saw in his eyes that he had no fear of her—or her wielder.

  “Be careful, Dani,” Kanjin warned. “This one won’t be so easy.”

  Dan’Moread focused on the sword in the man’s hands, which had a straight, tubular handle that was wrapped in some kind of fish skin and overlaid with twisted braids of cloth. The weapon had an extremely narrow, square crossguard with some sort of fish depicted, the gently curved blade was one-sided—and the entire weapon radiated strong, magical energies.

  The warrior placed his heels together briefly and bowed before spreading his feet and assuming what was obviously a well-practiced stance.

  Gripping her hilt with Kanjin’s hands, Dan’Moread assumed a medium guard posture and attempted to circle to the man’s weak side. But he matched her steps perfectly, cutting off the path while gaining ground on her in the process.

  She attempted to feint to the opposite side, but the warrior saw the ruse for what it was and kept his scarred, black features neutral as he yet again took another step toward her.

  Enough dancing, she snapped as she lunged toward the man with a series of stabs and short, chopping slashes.

  The warrior sidestepped each attack as though he had known the entire sequence before it began, never once losing his footing as he lashed out with his narrow, curved weapon.

  Dan’Moread’s weight was still crashing forward as the robed warrior’s blade whistled through the air and came for Kanjin’s armored head. There was a brief, terrifying screech of metal on metal as the weapon struck the helmet.

  Regaining her footing, and careful to avoid presenting another target to the warrior, Dan’Moread could see through Kanjin’s eyes that the deceptively small weapon had nearly torn completely through the thick metal of their helmet.

  “Careful, Dani,” Kanjin said again, and this time she knew he had been right to urge caution.

  I will not make that mistake again, she promised, bitterly noting that the swordsman had impossibly improved his position yet again. They were now fully three paces further from the gatehouse than they had been when they began the engagement with the unarmored man.

  She squared their body to the man and took measured, deliberate steps of her own, and the robed warrior smirked briefly before lashing out almost too fast for her to see—or react to.

  Dan’Moread moved to intercept the weapon, but her block was too high and the man’s blade slashed downward, seemingly changing direction in the middle of its arc just before it would have connected with her own edge, and she felt her wielder’s knee erupt in pain. Thankfully the limb held as she pivoted for a counterattack, but the warrior was already well out of her striking range by the time she had regained position and lashed out angrily.

  This time, howe
ver, the robed warrior had lost a pair of steps to her, and it was in that moment that she knew the man was toying with her. The choice he offered was a simple one: endure similar wounds to gain ground, or concede the ground to him as the superior swordsman.

  But Dan’Moread had never responded well to ultimatums, so she spun herself in her wielder’s grip and crossed her blade from one side of Kanjin’s body to the other in an obvious attempt to unnerve the warrior.

  “Dani—“ Kanjin began, but she had already made her move by the time the word escaped her lips.

  Kicking the ground with their metal-shod boot, she sent a spray of dusty gravel up into the warrior’s face. For his part, he seemed to anticipate even this maneuver but the fraction of a second she gained on him was all she had wanted, and she drove forward with a series of low swipes aimed at his thighs, which kept the other from re-acquiring his low, powerful base stance as he danced out of the way.

  She knew that she would lose a battle of exchanged blows, since the robed warrior’s weapon was faster and lighter than she was. But every blow from her edge brought with it the risk of death or dismemberment, while Kanjin’s armor reduced the robed warrior’s attacks in lethality—and that appeared to be the sole advantage they held over their present foe.

  Just as she thought she had created an opening to attack, the robed warrior kicked the air before himself and a narrow dart clanged off Kanjin’s helmet as Dan’Moread ducked instinctively to the side at the last moment.

  “Poison darts,” Kanjin growled, and Dan’Moread shared her wielder’s anger as the robed warrior’s smirk grew even more contemptuously, but she kept driving the attack without pause.

  Just as she was about to create another opening, the robed warrior parried with his own blade unexpectedly before suddenly leaping toward them as a small, deceptively thin blade sprung forth from the sleeve of his robe—a blade which he drove toward the narrow opening in Kanjin’s helmet.

  Knowing she was too far out of position to intercept the previously concealed weapon, Dan’Moread did the only thing she could do in that moment which might save her wielder—she dropped herself from her Kanjin’s grip and brought his hands up to grab the man’s hand defensively.

  She felt her wielder’s senses cut out briefly as she fell to the ground with a clatter, but a few seconds later she was able to see and hear through him once again. Still, she had relinquished control and could not re-acquire it again until she was in her wielder’s hand.

  Kanjin rolled on the ground with the other man, who had somehow also lost his main weapon and the two men struggled for control over the narrow, deadly knife.

  Just as Kanjin wrestled the blade from the other man and tossed it to the side, the robed warrior twisted his body as they rolled over one another. The brief moment when Kanjin had gripped the man’s concealed knife had caused Dan’Moread indescribable pain, but she endured it while staying focused on the fight.

  For a wielder to grip another weapon while bonded with her was to cause both Dan’Moread and her wielder pure agony, but she could mitigate the effect on her wielder if she attempted to absorb the pain herself.

  Lying on his back, the robed warrior wrapped his legs around Kanjin’s arm before straightening his torso while gripping Kanjin’s briefly isolated wrist in his own hands. It was an unfamiliar armlock, and before Kanjin had realized the danger the other man was straining against her wielder’s elbow with his entire body.

  Kanjin punched the other man to no apparent effect with his free hand, and cried out in pain as the metal of his armor screeched and groaned defiantly under the man’s surprisingly strong attack. Then, just as it seemed Kanjin’s arm would break under the other warrior’s strange attack, he kneed the robed warrior in his back and the man’s grip loosened briefly. Kanjin kneed him again, and again, and again until the warrior finally released his grip and rolled away.

  The robed warrior rolled toward his sword, but Kanjin got there first and kicked it away. Both men’s eyes fell to Dan’Moread at the same instant, but the robed man was quicker and he dove out of Kanjin’s reach before her wielder could interdict him.

  Rolling over Dan’Moread with his body, the robed warrior cleanly came up with her in his grip and she felt a surge of anger at the man’s presumption.

  “Now you die,” the man growled in a staccato accent, and Kanjin stood back warily for a moment as he looked for the other man’s sword—which was now at least five paces away.

  No, Dan’Moread snarled, now you die!

  In much the same way as her wielder might flex a muscle, Dan’Moread let a surge of energy flow forth from her core and into the man’s hands. His arms spasmed and she continued to pour the energy into him. She knew it could not kill him, but that was not her intent.

  She watched as Kanjin approached and, without ceremony, wound up and delivered the most powerful kick he was capable of directly to the warrior’s unarmored groin.

  To his credit, the warrior’s features barely flinched. But after a moment of defiant stoicism, he let Dan’Moread slip from his hands and fall to the ground. Wasting no time, Kanjin lined up an iron-gauntleted uppercut, which he delivered to the man’s jaw with bone-crunching force and the warrior fell into a twitching heap.

  Collecting Dan’Moread up from the ground, Kanjin asked, “Are you alright?”

  I am, she replied curtly as she resumed control of her wielder’s body. Following Kanjin’s lead, she delivered a swift, unceremonious blow to the warrior’s head with her tip before turning toward the gatehouse. Her senses were still clouded from the violation of another’s hands having touched her hilt in an unwanted fashion, but she knew she could continue to fight even in her current condition, which was certain to pass within a few minutes.

  On the other side of the gate she could hear horses braying angrily, and Dan’Moread quickly examined the mechanisms at work in the massive gatehouse.

  “I recognize this design,” Kanjin said quickly, “this is a counterweighted system, and it looks like it’s still primed. All we have to do is unlock both chains and it will open automatically—after we break the bar, that is.”

  Dan’Moread looked to the massive, iron bar which was set across the heavy, wooden gate and knew she could break it given enough time.

  Hearing the sound of approaching soldiers from the direction of the mountain, she turned and saw the main force of the Storm Lord’s soldiers charging down toward the gate, and she doubted she would have the necessary time to break the crossbar and the locks on the weighting mechanism.

  Rimidalv, I need your aid, she called out after a brief delay, hoping she was still within range of communication with the White Blade. She was loathe to request assistance from anyone, even the White Blade, but she could not fight the horde of onrushing Stormborn soldiers and open the gates at the same time.

  There was a brief pause, followed by the White Blade’s hard voice, I am coming.

  Without further ado, she began to hack into the middle of the massive, iron bar which had been laid across the two doors of the Storm Fort’s main gate.

  She heard the approaching soldiers become louder, but Dan’Moread focused on the task at hand. Each blow from her hardened, star metal edge tore into the huge bar of iron as though she were a woodsman’s axe working on a fallen tree. Crossing this way and that, she was nearly through the metal bar when she heard the voices of the approaching soldiers as though they were at her back.

  Turning in preparation for what may have been their last stand, Dan’Moread saw a horde of charging soldiers just outside the gatehouse with murder in their eyes as the descended the slope toward the gate.

  Gripping herself tightly in Kanjin’s hands, Dan’Moread prepared to give them the fight of their lives.

  Yaerilys’ arms were trembling from the recently concluded battle atop the wall as she ran along behind Ser Cavulus, helping Tavleros to do the same as they went.

  “Thou must lower thyselves to the bottom,” the White Knight instructed,
and Tavleros nodded. “We are needed below.”

  With that the White Knight turned at the mid-point of the wall and, gripping Rimidalv in his hand, leapt from the wall toward the inner sanctum of the Storm Fort.

  Yaerilys had seen the White Knight do many things which would have killed most mortals, so instead of standing mouth agape—as her companion appeared to do—she unslung the coil of rope from around her chest and began to tie it to a nearby crenellation.

  “He is something, isn’t he?” Tavleros asked dryly, and Yaerilys could see the man’s senses had already returned to him. He was no longer quite as hot as he had been, and his eyes were more focused.

  “Canst thou lower thyself to the bottom under thy own power?” Yaerilys asked shortly. She was fit and strong—not just for a woman, but by any measure—but lowering herself down the rope with him in hand would perhaps be too challenging.

  “I can,” Tavleros nodded.

  “Then I shall go first,” she said, and she began to lower herself to the bottom. “Follow quickly,” she urged as she heard more soldiers emerge from their hidden passages nearby.

  As she quickly descended the rope, she saw Tavleros do the same and when she saw he was well on his way, Yaerilys slid down the rope quickly. Her gauntlets grew warm immediately and her nostrils were filled with the powerful stench of burning leather, but she made her way to the bottom of the line where she drew her sword as an enemy soldier approached.

  The soldier thrust at her with his spear, which she turned aside easily enough, using her short blade, before gaining her footing. The man circled her and feinted with his weapon, of which the head was forged in the shape of a lightning bolt. But Yaerilys had been trained by Ser Cavulus himself and she easily saw through the deception.

  She lunged with her weapon outstretched to the limit of her range, and the soldier had no choice but to parry it with his spear. Following her lunge with a backhand swipe of her blade, she pressed forward inside the soldier’s guard. He lashed out with the butt of his spear, and by doing so fell into Yearilys’ trap.