The Sword Of Bayne Omnibus

by Ty Johnston

  Before him, little more than a few strides away, on flat stone sat the woman, her legs pulled up beneath her. She leaned against a boulder, one hand caressing the gray stone. Around this large rock was twined the rope of hair, braid after braid and loop after loop. Bayne noticed the rope carried the same shades as that of the woman’s locks, thus was not surprised when he saw the cord of hair snaked up from the bottom of the massive stone to disappear behind the woman’s shoulders. It was her hair that had enabled him to traverse the mountain.

  Beyond the woman some short distance was an entrance to a cave. It was a large cave opening. Bayne would not have to stoop to enter. And the sides were wide enough he could swing a sword if necessary. Still, the darkness of the cave was seemingly endless and waves of air as cold as a northern night drifted forth from that maw.

  The woman giggled again.

  Bayne glanced to her. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  She held out a hand, offering a bronzed dagger. “Be a man and help.”

  Bayne stared at her nonplussed. “What is this?” he asked, pointing to the small weapon.

  “Idiot!” She flipped her head forward to reveal the cord of dark hair rising up her back. Another flip and the bound tresses lay on her shoulder. Reaching over with her free hand, she grasped the coil as if seizing a venomous snake. The dagger flashed, the golden blade sliding through the strands as a scythe through wheat.

  “There!” She let the free end of the rope fall to the ground and shook her head to loosen her remaining locks. The darkness of the tresses flowed around her face and over her shoulders as if dark silk.

  The woman glanced to Bayne with scorn in her features, as if he were useless. The dagger vanished beside her on the ground.

  Then she was all smiles, flashing a grin. She held up her long, slender arms. “Help me stand.”

  Bayne did not move for a moment, as if there were struggle of wills going on between his own mind and that of the woman. Would he help her? If not, why not? Simply to spite her? He shook his head. Such thinking was foolish. Coming to this woman’s aid, especially for such a simple task, gave her no power over him unless he allowed her to have such power. Besides, she had just rescued him, perhaps even saved his life, thus it was worthy of him to show gratitude. He wiped his blood-stained hands on the sides of his leggings and stepped forward, gently wrapping his strong fingers about the woman’s wrists. He lifted slightly and she came up on her feet, feet clothed in simple, flat silk footwear.

  Bayne removed his hands from her arms. He noticed his palms and fingers were no longer bleeding and his other wounds had healed themselves. Whether this was due to his own healing abilities or magic from the woman, he did not know, but saw no reason to question.

  “Do you fear the touch of a beautiful woman?” the woman asked, a look of intrigue and laughter in her eyes.

  “I fear little,” Bayne said, “especially not you.”

  He stepped to one side and marched past her.

  “Fool!” She screamed, spun and followed the warrior, right behind his heavy footsteps. “Am I not the most beautiful woman your eyes have beheld?”

  Bayne ignored the question as he moved to stand in front of the cave’s entrance. He pointed into the darkness. “What lies within?”

  She flitted around in front of him, stretching out a lengthy arm as if to bar his passing. “It is my cave.” She smiled once more, showing teeth that glittered as if beneath a bright moon. “It is warm inside, and there are many fine rugs for laying upon.”

  “Where does it lead?” Bayne asked.

  The woman’s smile faltered. “Into the mountainside.”

  “And beyond?” Bayne said.

  “There is no beyond.”

  Bayne stared at her. “The mountain road does not extend here. You had to arrive somehow. The cave is the obvious choice. It must lead somewhere.”

  “It leads nowhere but deeper inside the mountain.”

  Bayne cocked his head and stared at her. “Did a man come this way? Dressed in black. Long, black hair.”

  “You speak of the emperor,” the woman said, “and no, he did not venture into these climes. His way was another.”

  “Then I thank you again for your assistance,” Bayne said, “but I must be on my way.”

  He took a step around her.

  She jumped in front of him again, this time her hands extended out toward him, nearly pleading. “There is nowhere to go but here!” Her smile returned and she waved a hand towards the depths of the cave. “But please, enter and find yourself a nice spot. A big, strong man such as yourself should have no troubles building us a fire. I will find my hookah and we can have a glorious afternoon in the clouds of nothingness.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Bayne marched around her once more, his strides taking him to the edges of the dark.

  “Fool!” the woman shouted behind him.

  He glanced over a shoulder.

  The woman’s features had grown harsh, her black eyebrows angled in anger on her forehead. She threw up her arms in exasperation. “Go, then! Enter and be damned! You will find nothing but my two sisters, and they will tear apart your soul!”

  Bayne shrugged, then unsheathed his sword from his back. “Let them beware, then,” he said, “for I will brook no further obstacles.”

  Then he turned his back upon her and sauntered into the black of the mountain.

  It was as if he stepped through a thin wall of vapor. One moment he was outside beneath the sun, the next he was within near-complete darkness. Bayne paused to allow his sight to soak in the black around him. His eyes could only gain focus to a small extent within the gloom, but after long seconds he could just make out the walls some little distance to his left and right. The cave’s floor too appeared in dim outline, as if a soft glow lay about the rocky ground.

  He glanced back. The outside was no more. The woman was no more. An inky barrier was all there was.

  He listened. There was nothing. No sounds before or aft.

  Bayne marched on.

  His momentum was slow, each step taken meaningfully. One boot at a time he would extend to test the ground before him, and finding the step safe he would continue on with the next. His sword he held out to one side, switching hands every so often as to protect both sides.

  As he made his way, it occurred to Bayne it had been a foolish thing to step into the cave without knowledge of what lay beyond. But he was not one to know fear, and from past experience had yet to meet danger he had not been able to overcome or avoid in some manner or other.

  The woman had him curious, but not to an extent where he had wanted to spend more time with her. She was a seductress, perhaps a witch or even a demoness. Bayne had no time nor interest in being seduced. A sexual encounter would only slow him further in his pursuit of Verkanus, and only the gods knew what devilment the woman had had planned for him.

  She had mentioned two sisters who lay ahead. Bayne would be wary of them. But if they were no more seductive nor threatening than their sibling, Bayne believed he had little to fear from them. Finding Verkanus had taken years, and now chasing Verkanus on the mountain was taking longer than Bayne had expected, and he was growing impatient. He promised himself no more delays in the hunt. He would get through the cave, preferably back to the mountain road, then he would find the emperor, question him and then come what may.

  After some little time with his thoughts, Bayne noticed the cave narrowed slightly and curved to his right. Further along the curve became a rounded turn. He followed.

  A soft light appeared before him in the distance, a dancing light. Crimson and yellow, the glow seemed likely that of a torch or similar flame.

  Bayne tramped on.

  The flickering light slowly grew brighter and nearer and eventually took form as that of a small cooking fire off to one side in a place where the tunnel opened into a wider expanse of the cave before continuing on. The fire itself was neat and tidy, surrounded by perfectly-smooth stones. Ato
p it sat an iron frame, and upon the frame rested an iron skillet and a copper tea kettle which was just beginning to whistle.

  On the far side of the cooking fire was a small woman with short golden locks that just touched at the ends of her ears and lay loosely on her neck. She wore a simple russet tunic and simple wool boots that rose above her ankles. Her seat was a simple wooden chair that had the added extravagance of a crimson, plump cushion.

  She motioned for Bayne to approach, and he did, sheathing his sword.

  He was wary of this one, likely the first of the sisters of the temptress outside, but her demeanor seemed pleasant and simple. As Bayne neared, he noted her features were not unattractive, though she was no natural beauty as the dark-haired one had been. Her skin was pale, her nose pointed but not sharp, her eyes blue but not piercing.

  “Please, have a seat, good sir.” She waved a hand over the fire and an identical chair to her own appeared from nothingness.

  Bayne sat. And stared in silence across the flames to the woman.

  She raised an arm over the empty frying pan, tilting the hand as if showing off rare gems or jewels. “Would you partake of my lunch, good sir?”

  Bayne glanced at the skillet. “It is empty, fair one.”

  “Look again,” she said.

  Bayne blinked, and a half dozen strips of bacon appeared sizzling in the center of the pan.

  “That is a fine trick,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, it is. Many a fine soldier would wish for such fare when on the march.”

  “I am no soldier,” Bayne explained, “nor am I on the march.”

  “You appear to be marching somewhere, my friend. To where, I would ask?”

  Bayne stared at her, a good, long stare. Could he trust this one? She seemed less intrusive than the seductress, but Bayne did not know this woman. She appeared to be a fine enough female, both physically and verbally, but the mountain was a strange place filled with dangers and magic.

  His lack of fear decided him. “I follow a man in black robes. He likely would have passed near these parts in the last few days.”

  The woman scrunched up her eyes and stared into the frying pan as if she were having a difficult time remembering something. Finally, she said, “There has been no one but yourself through these caverns in the longest of times. The road around the mountain lies far to the other end of these tunnels.”

  “I thank you,” Bayne said, standing as if to depart. “You have provided more knowledge than did you sister.”

  “My sister?” The woman shot up out of her seat, her hands suddenly nervous and fidgeting before her. “You have met one of my sisters?”

  Bayne nodded back the way he had came. “She of the long, dark hair.”

  “Oh, oh!” The woman spun about and away from her chain, frantic as she moved from one side of the cave to the other and back, pacing in anxiousness. She would not look at Bayne though she continued to speak with a hurried voice, the words seeming more for herself than for the warrior. “Must beware of her! She is a trickster, that one. She will defile and debase all that is pure, all that is honorable!”

  Bayne stepped forward and placed a firm hand on one of her shoulders.

  The woman stopped immediately, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked up to the big man.

  “No harm came to me, so still yourself, woman,” Bayne said. “In truth, your sister was of assistance to me in a dire circumstance.”

  “She would!” The words were nearly spat. “She only came to your aid to have you for herself!”

  Bayne removed his hand from the woman and laughed. He tossed his bald head back, closed his eyes and let go with a mighty guffaw to the ceiling and any gods above. Finally, “Woman, I am not so easily tamed. Control yourself.”

  She did. She lowered her hands and her head and returned to her seat, plopping down in the chair as swiftly as if she had been ordered to by a master.

  Bayne looked to the woman with sympathy. She was one of the few along his mountain path who had not tried to cause him harm or grief. As well, she seemed trapped here somehow, perhaps by strong magics or perhaps even an ailment of the mind that would not allow her to free herself. Still, there seemed little Bayne could do for her. She appeared healthy and capable and safe, and it was not Bayne’s duty to save every distressed damsel who crossed his path.

  “My apologies to you, good woman,” he said with a nod, “but I must be on my way.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Will you not stay?”

  Bayne looked back to her. “I must not. The longer I delay, the further my target gets away from me.”

  “But why do you have to go after him?” Her eyes were pleading again, her hands clutched tightly in her lap.

  Bayne sighed. “It is a long tale, my lady. One that would delay me even more.”

  A smile sprang onto her face. “You could stay! I can bring you more than bacon! Anything you wish. Ask and it will be yours. Ale, bread, steak, mead, any and all.”

  “Many thanks, but no.”

  “I would make a good wife!” she blurted, standing, her hands running along her hips. “I am ripe for child bearing, and would make a strong mother. You are a fine, strong man and would make an excellent mate.”

  Bayne’s gaze filled with pity. She was throwing herself at him, the desperate woman.

  Her hands snapped out and grasped him by a wrist. “Please, you must stay! I will be good to you. I can give you everything a good husband desires. My sisters cannot promise such. They have their qualities, but they are no mothers.”

  Bayne attempted with his free hand to tenderly pry away the woman’s fingers, but her grip was too strong. Too strong? How could that be? Bayne had never known a man physically more powerful than himself, let alone a woman.

  “Release me,” he said.

  She did not. “No! No, you will stay here with me. I will be your wife and the mother to our children. You will be the good husband and father, hunting for our feasts and bringing home trinkets from far lands to our brood.”

  She leaned back toward her chair, gently pulling Bayne along with her.

  Again he was surprised by her strength. He was forced to take a step just to keep up with her.

  But enough. The pity that had resided in Bayne’s orbs died away to be replaced with anger.

  “Harpy!” he shouted. “You are no better than your other!”

  With those words he clamped a hand onto one of her wrists and twisted. She cried out as the flesh felt as if burning beneath his rough touch. He twisted further and she released her grip.

  The woman fell back onto her seat.

  Bayne wasted no time and sprang away, dashing down the far tunnel and away from the woman and her grotto.

  “Come back to me!” Her voice trailed after him. It bounced along the walls in echoes.

  But Bayne did not go back. He kept one hand along the left wall so as not to lose his place and kept running.

  The woman continued to yell and scream.

  Eventually her faded died away with distance and Bayne slowed to a walk. Glancing about, he was glad to find the strange glow of the cave still allowed him sight, as limited as it was. He was also glad to be away from that woman. The first sister had said there were two others, which meant one still lay along his path. He would be wary of her. But the second sister had spoken of the road at the far end of the tunnel, the direction Bayne was sure he was heading. That final thought gave him hope and he trotted on.

  As Bayne traveled, the glow of the cave grew in luminosity, allowing him to drop his outstretched hand along the left wall. The light was still dim, but it was as of an early morn and well enough by which to see. His sword out and leading the way, Bayne increased his speed.

  His travels seemed to last for hours. The cave curved left back into the depths of the mountain for some while, then there was a sharp turn to the right followed by a long, straight path that gradually climbed. Fortunately for Bayne there were few offshoots from
his main path, and these side routes were small and narrow and thus of no interest. Bayne wanted to reach the outside, preferably near the mountain road, and none of the lesser tunnels he spotted appeared to lead in the direction he surmised was the surface.

  After some little while, he once more spotted light ahead. It was a steady light, firm and unbending. Bayne grinned. This could be but sunlight ahead.

  He sped even faster than before, running and running, jumping over small outcroppings of stone and rock and other minor stalagmites.

  The nearer he approached this new brightness, the more he became convinced it was daylight. The nearer he grew to it, the warmer his surroundings became. Sweat even appeared to gloss his potent muscles.

  A stone’s throw from the light, Bayne slowed to a walk. Ahead he could indeed see the cave opened up once again to the outside world. From his vantage point he could make out a flat sward of green that ended at a drop-off some little distance from the cave’s mouth; beyond the cliff’s edge was the day’s sky, bright with blue and the white wisps of clouds. Thankfully there was no black screen here as before when he had entered, but perhaps that had been a device of the temptress with the black hair.

  Stepping into the light of day, Bayne’s smile broadened. He was indeed outside again, though he did not spy the road. The sward stretched far to his left and right, and young trees wearing fruit haphazardly lined the wall of the mountain now just behind the big man.

  The scent of cooking bacon came to his nose once more.

  Bayne sniffed. To his left was from where the smell came, likely around a bend in the mountain side.

  He ignored it for the moment and walked out to the cliff’s edge. He stared down in hopes of seeing the road below. But no, there was but a long fall into a gray mist in which the tops of other crags and some few trees appeared as ghosts. Bayne glanced up, his hopes not yet dashed. Above there lay only more mountain, gray and silent and forlorn.