The Unforgiven

by A. Katie Rose

  At the same moment his bellow of rage echoed down, the top of our shelter detonated with a sharp, coughing roar. Chunks of rocks bigger than my head rained down amidst a shower of dirt and savage sparks. Like an avalanche, the rock fall would bury us under it, and send our corpses sliding into the deadly trees below. The horses, spooking, almost broke free from Iyumi’s hand, and dragged her several feet with them.

  Cursing, I gave myself no time to think. Using all the power in my control, and some that wasn’t, I cast upward and outward a long column of wind. Air, like water, could cause as much, if not more, damage than stones with enough force behind it. With a wind-speed equal to a hurricane, I sent the falling rocks flying in all directions. I heard the snapping of tree branches and trunks as both stones and wind broke them apart. With the roar of an annoyed dragon, my tempest destroyed Blaez’s attempt to kill me. Though how he thought to kill me and still keep Iyumi and the child alive with this stunt was beyond my comprehension.

  Though I deflected the avalanche from Iyumi, Torass, Lyall and Boden, I couldn’t control where it went. All of the broken boulders, and the resulting debris, flew in a wide arc around us, crashing down the steep slope, and the trail below. I couldn’t send any of it back against my enemies, unfortunately. They were protected by the tall granite shelter just as I was. Permitting my wind to dissipate, calm filled the canyon once more, though I knew that was temporary. I suspected my father had a follow-up plan.

  He did.

  Wild yells and galloping hooves from both above us and below resounded throughout the canyon. Finian sent his brutes to tidy up his mess, using old fashioned cavalry tactics. I wasn’t fooled. My old man had an ace up his sleeve and he but bided his time. He wanted me to take his bait. I would oblige him, but not in the way he expected or appreciated.

  “Dra’agor!” I yelled. “Now!”

  I could only guess at my father’s position on the road above us. By the sound of the hooves on rock, several horses cantered downhill near the place I asked Dra’agor to hide. I knew my father wouldn’t commit all his soldiers – he was too smart for that. But a handful, sure. I grinned as Dra’agor’s snarls echoed across the narrow ravine.

  Chaos erupted. Horses screamed. Men yelled. Hooves trampled across stone. The treacherous road ensnared them as much as Dra’agor’s teeth. The panicked horses had nowhere to go. I heard the thud of a large body striking the ground, the clear snap of bones and the grunt of a man caught between a horse and a hard place. I listened as men cursed in fear and anger, fighting to keep their mounts under control. As Dra’agor leaped and snarled, biting at the legs of my father’s cavalry horses, their riders had no hope of raising a bow or sword to him. No man, no matter how skilled, could shoot a bow or wield a sword while riding a bucking horse.

  “Kill the wolf!” my father screamed. “Shoot that damn thing! Shoot it now!”

  “My turn,” I said.

  I whipped wind into my hand again. This time, I didn’t aim it to deflect. Instead, I gathered the fire from Blaez’s first attack, burning merrily amid the summer-dry pines and mountain spruce. Air fed fire. I provided it with a hearty meal of dry forest and fresh oxygen. Like a volcano erupting, it exploded with a heat ten times Blaez’s little tantrum. I sent it whirling over my head. Up and up I flung it, over the top of the boulders, sparks and smoke trailing it like stars. It’s brilliance sent the late sun hiding behind the mountains, lighting the region like a new dawn. Down it dropped, into the unknown. Or at least the unknown to me. But I knew my pa was there somewhere and my fire still hungered.

  Then the screams began.

  “Lyall! Boden! Go!”

  Lyall kicked his horse into high gear. Boden burst out from behind the rock wall, his bow raised. One arrow after another flew from his string, one after the other in a sequence to fast my eyes failed to follow. He protected Lyall’s back as easily as if he rode beside him. I paused, listening as my lads ripped into my father’s soldiers. My father’s reserve launched themselves into the fray of fighting men and a wolf determined to hamstring every equine leg within reach, and I knew I needed to be there. But I hesitated.

  “Buck-Eye?” I yelled. “You good, man?”

  I needn’t have worried. Below, Buck-Eye sat calmly aboard his horse, still mounted upon the tall rock. His flaming arrows caught armored men in the chest as they galloped uphill, charging with swords and maces. Around and behind them, the area burned. His wicked flames caught upon horses’ sensitive flanks, sending them mad with agony and panic. An entire dozen men lay crying, moaning or dead upon the flaming rocks as the remaining five or six tried to regroup and charge. Buck-Eye’s next flaming arrow caught the lead rider between the eyes, knocking him from his horse. His corpse burned merrily upon the stony road. The others checked their rush, hesitating.

  “All due respect, m’lord,” he replied, cross. “Go away. I’m busy.”

  His next arrow tossed a soldier over the rump of his bay, while another took the rider’s horse out from under him. Both lit up light a tallow candle, the odor of roasting meat making my eyes water. I tasted its nasty oily flavor on my tongue. “Just checking,” I called. “Yell if you need anything.”

  “Righty-O.”

  I tossed a wink in Iyumi’s direction. “I think I’m needed over there.”

  Using the power of the scrying crystal, I leaped over the top of the fallen mountain, the flames I created and landed on my feet behind an astounded Blaez and gaping King of Raithin Mawr. Though the sun westered over the tall peaks behind me, enough light remained to illuminate everything. I stared at total and utter defeat. Not my demise, but my father’s.

  Dra’agor still leaped and snarled, chasing what few soldiers remained aboard their horses. Many valued cavalry nags lay crippled and broken upon the rocks, whinnying. Some of their riders crawled to them, bleeding, injured but thinking of their horses first. Most of my father’s soldiers lay dead, either from my fires, Boden’s arrows or Lyall’s swift blade. Those that survived both fangs, flames and steel ran like rabbits. They bolted past my sire and his commanding crony, diving into the setting sun’s shadows to vanish. Perhaps forever.

  Both men hadn’t noticed my arrival, stunned as they were by total and utter destruction of their well-planned ambush. I couldn’t help but find humor in the situation. I cleared my throat, spinning both men around. My presence behind them shocked them, for their eyes and mouths widened in fear. I suppressed my grin.

  “Am I intruding?” I asked, my tone polite.

  “Cut him down,” Finian roared. “Now. Now!”

  To give him credit, Blaez tried his best. He concocted a dark spell aimed to both stop my heart and split my skull at the same time. He hadn’t had the time to think it through, however. As though swatting a fly, I brushed aside his blast of fury and fear with a negligible hand. I couldn’t help but smile as he gaped, astonished that I still stood before him, untouched.

  “Practice makes perfect,” I said, smirking, just before my own magical blow, shaped like a mallet, caught him upside his head.

  Blaez dropped to the stones, bleeding from the eyes and ears. Unconscious or dead, I didn’t care. Maybe I killed him, or maybe I didn’t, but he was no longer a threat. I drew my sword, stepping lightly on the balls of my feet, eyeing my father as he gaped in stunned horror at Blaez’s inert body. I spat on the ground at his feet.

  “Cheer up, Pa,” I said, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. “You don’t have to feed him anymore.”

  He raised his stunned gaze from Blaez’s body to my face. His lips amid his black beard thinned. His dark brows met over the bridge of his nose as he scowled, thinking to intimidate me. As he always had. As he never would again.

  “He was my friend,” Finian rumbled, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to die now, boy.”

  I chuckled in derision. “Am I? Looks to me like you’re alone and outnumbered. Surrender and maybe I’ll let you live.”

  Pausing, catching his glance, I lowered my
voice. “Or maybe I’ll string you up and turn the mutts loose.”

  Finian charged, his sword drawn and my blood in his eyes. A gifted swordsman, my sire defeated arms-master after arms-master, champion after champion on the practice field. Very few fought him to a draw and none ever touched him with their blunted blades. I reeled from his assault, catching his blade with mine and turning it before it took my head from my shoulders. Recovering in an eye-blink, Finian swung hard toward my head. Only by ducking did I avoid the razor’s edge, though I felt it slice through my hair. I aimed to stab him in the gut, but he knocked my pathetic attempt aside with a snort of contempt.

  Had my father taught me sword fighting himself, I might have held my own. I had youth and agility on my side, but he had skill and experience on his. In the first two minutes, he drew blood not once but four times while my own steel never came close to his skin. I bled profusely from two cuts to my shoulder, one across my ribs and the fourth nearly cut the tendons that held up my left leg. At this rate, I’d bleed to death and still not kill him. His lip curled in triumph and hate, Finian sneered. “You’re dead, boy.”

  His mockery pissed me off. Rallying, I charged in, hacking at his blade, swinging hard and fast. I forced him backward, step by step, the canyon ringing with the clash of steel on steel. Sparks flew from our slithering blades as I ground mine against his, toe to toe, our faces close enough to kiss. I glared into his furious dark eyes, and he glowered into mine. I forced him further back, hacking at his defenses, my rage overwhelming his.

  From beyond his head, Buck-Eye raised his bow. His nocked and flaming arrow aimed for Finian’s back. He knew I couldn’t win out against my father. My skills, despite my anger fueling my strength, weren’t high enough for the task. Eventually, I’d make a fatal mistake and my hated sire’s sword would take my life. Buck-Eye sought to keep me alive because dead princes didn’t pay well.

  “M’lord!” Buck-Eye shouted. “Get down!”

  “No!” I grunted, breathless, straining to overwhelm Finian with strength and speed. “He’s mine.”

  From beyond Finian’s shoulder, Iyumi gestured frantically, no doubt ordering Buck-Eye to belay my order and shoot Finian down. Dra’agor stood at her side, as Torass brought the horses around the rock tower. Buck-Eye aimed his bow again, his arrow nocked and the string pulled back to his ear. He released, the flaming arrow whooshing to burn my old man into cinders.

  He missed.

  How the hell could Buck-Eye miss? I dared not take my eyes from Finian’s, nor cease in my relentless attack upon his blade. Stinging sweat slid into my eyes, blurring my vision. My wounds poured blood, though I felt little pain. Finian feinted and spun around, his sword’s tip scoring a fifth cut across my chest. I staggered, dropping my guard.

  He pounced. His hilt struck me hard in the abdomen, taking what little remained of my breath. His left fist crashed hard into my right cheek, snapping my head back. Half-blinded, winded, I fell flat to my back, my sword spinning from my fingers. His shadow loomed over me as I fought to get up.

  “You should’ve let him shoot, boy,” Finian growled, raising his blade.

  He tried, I half-thought, as he stabbed his sword, point down, toward my chest.

  Something large and dark struck Finian from the side. His sword clattered to the stony ground. His screams of pain and panic mixed with savage snarling filled the canyon. Dra’agor. Buck-Eye may have missed his target, but my noble friend didn’t.

  I blinked and rolled over, gasping, trying to get air, any air, into my lungs. I blinked, clearing my vision, and watched. Finian threw Dra’agor off from his attack with savage punches to the wolf’s head and face, scrambling to get away. He half-rose as Dra’agor charged in, fangs bared and dripping, and grabbed Dra’agor by the throat. My old man had courage, I had to admit. He aimed to kill a fully grown wolf with his bare hands. Fear jumped into my heart. Could he really kill my friend?

  Before his fingers could fully close and choke off Dra’agor’s wind, Dra’agor leapt up, dancing on his hind paws. His muzzle on level with Finian’s face, he snapped those powerful jaws shut. On my father’s cheeks. Yowling in agony, Finian lunged backward, staggering under the hundred plus pounds of angry wolf. Dra’agor lost his hold, but his teeth ripped my old man’s face to shreds. He fled, falling to his knees, scrambling to run again even from hands and knees. Dra’agor followed, snapping at his back, his ass, forcing him to the edge of the canyon.

  Arms flailing, Finian staggered upright, yanking his dagger from his belt. He tried to spin, face his enemy, raising his one remaining weapon. The dark canyon yawned behind his boots. Dra’agor ignored the steel in his fist and the threat it posed, for he was a smart wolf. He didn’t rear up to rip open my father’s throat as Finian obviously expected him to do, leaving his body wide open for the plunging blade. Oh, no. Dra’agor darted toward Finian’s knees, his teeth aiming for his vulnerable hamstring.

  Finian stepped backward to avoid Dra’agor’s fangs, his left boot striking nothing save empty space. Gravity did the rest. With a wailing scream, Finian fell into the canyon. I heard his heavy body snap tree branches and thud against rocks, his death cry echoing upward like a lonely ghost. Silence fell. Even the wind soughing through the trees died as though mourning his passing.

  His head cocked to the side, ears up, Dra’agor stared down into the gulf for a long moment. Then he turned and trotted back to me.

  He reached me at the same moment Iyumi dropped to her knees beside my shoulder, her manacles clinking softly. “Are you all right?” she asked, her fingers picking at my bloody tunic.

  “I think so,” I gasped, struggling to sit up.

  A strong hand under my injured shoulder – Buck-Eye’s – helped me to stand. His hand and Boden’s strength kept me upright as Dra’agor sat down, whining low in his throat. Lyall pushed his horse close to the lip of the canyon and peered down. “Don’t see him,” he commented, frowning.

  “D-don’t matter,” I replied, my lungs finally returning to working order. “He’s d-dead.”

  “You sure? From here, it looks to me as though he might’ve survived.”

  “Then he crawled away to die,” I groaned, swaying under the combined strength of Buck-Eye and Iyumi. “Get the horses, will you? We’re late enough as it is.”

  As Torass arrived with the troll, incredibly still sleeping, Lyall loped his horse away toward the granite boulders. “Blaez has run off, m’lord,” he announced. “With the survivors. The rest are dead. Or nearly so.”

  “I didn’t kill him?” I gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “I saw him, too,” Iyumi said, plucking at my tunic. “Bleeding, yes, but quite alive.”

  “Crap,” I replied, forcing my knees to lock to prevent a headlong spill onto the granite road. “That bastard has the devil’s own luck. Keep an eye out, lads. Some may be faking.”

  Though it seemed like hours, the entire battle had spanned within a matter of twenty minutes or so. Bowing his head in respect, Torass gently handed the baby to Iyumi as she rose to her feet. She accepted her burden with a brief nod, peeping into the rags to reassure herself the kid had taken no harm.

  “M’lord,” Buck-Eye said, his tone worried. “You’re not fit to ride.”

  Like Iyumi’s, his fingers pulled aside my torn tunic to examine my wounds. Though they’d stopped bleeding, any movement I made set them to screaming like banshees. Had I not healed myself in the past and honed my skills in the time since, I might have agreed. Instead, I offered him a lopsided grin.

  “No worries. By the time you get this party ready to roll, I’ll be fit.”

  With a jaunty salute, he, Boden and Torass walked away. Iyumi watched me carefully. “You can heal yourself?”

  I nodded. “Though I’d rather do it in privacy, if you don’t mind.”

  Shrugging with indifference, Iyumi strode toward her mule. With a sharp woof, Dra’agor danced at her side, his tail waving madly. She stepped among the dead soldiers and horses, v
anishing into the sullen smoke from the fires. Though the corpses no longer burned, they continued to give off the terrible odor of roasted flesh. Several trees surrounding the battlefield still smoldered, blue-grey smoke curling upward in the quiet mountain air. My belly roiling, I wanted away from this death place and its sickening stench.

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” I murmured, reaching down for my healing trance and its cat’s paw warmth. “Let’s play.”

  The sun passed its zenith the next day when I reined Bayonne in with a sigh. “Hello, Mother.”

  Like a mountain nymph, born to sun and shadows, she stood on the stony road with her arms akimbo. The light breeze lifted her silk skirts as though caressing them with love and affection. Dra’agor halted, whining, his head low and his ears flattened. My memory skipped across Iyumi’s lesson regarding the blood binding and dismissed it just as easily. My mother had no clue, and not near the magical power, to bind another to her will by blood.

  She clearly wasn’t pleased. In fact, I’d never seen her quite so angry. I dismounted, leaving Bayonne to mind himself as I helped Iyumi down from her mule. Fortunately, the troll still slept off her morning blood breakfast, and set up no fuss as Iyumi slipped down from the mule’s makeshift saddle.

  “Why aren’t you at the castle?” Mother asked, her tone sharp. “Had you used the bloody crystal as you should, I wouldn’t feel the need to come looking for you.”

  Feeling like a boy caught with his pants around his ankles, I flushed. “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, ‘can’t’? Excuses are like –”

  “The baby is a troll.”

  “A – what?”

  For a moment, her expression sagged into an odd mixture of horror, dawning realization and panic. Those eyes I inherited widened in shock. Her slender fingers rose halfway to her lips before dropping to cover her throat. She stared at the bundle of rags in Iyumi’s arms, her body trembling. Her mouth worked for several long seconds, but nothing save a faint whimper escaped her clenched teeth.