Thrall

by Steven Shrewsbury

  Down the line, far in the rear, a commotion erupted. Screams among the women and many watchman registered panic. One shouted out, “She broke his neck!”

  “Sounds like Kayla,” Maddox said as he gripped the chains in his hands. “I like her line of thinking.”

  Since he couldn’t loop the chain around the neck of the guard on horseback, Maddox grabbed the horse. Although pointing parallel to the caravan, the guard gaped the other way. Favoring his good shoulder, Maddox pulled. The guard fell off his horse toward him. Tammas looped the chains around his fists and smashed the guard’s head after the man plunged. Surprise spread across Tammas’ face at how easily the guard’s head caved in under the crushing blows.

  A rousing cheer went up from the mass of slaves as Gorias charged the main body of guards.

  “He’s mad,” Maddox said, letting the horse go free, his expression one of astonishment. If any other man tried such a stunt as Gorias, Maddox would’ve yawned and started guessing how soon he’d be in his grave.

  A group of four guards derived great merriment out of the charge until many of the slaves shouted out “La Gaul!” Uncertainty set in and the handlers decided to fix bows. All down the line, slaves followed the example of Kayla, Maddox, and Tammas by draping chains over the nearest guard’s neck. A dozen guards died, thrashing and venting their bowels. Those remaining stepped way from the slaves who refused the conformity of the snake-line discipline. One charged Gorias on foot, along with many on horseback. A few of them turned their mount and moved behind the caravan.

  Tammas swung at a fleeing horse, missed. “What are the guards doing?”

  Maddox held his shoulder. “They’re running. Keeping beaten men in chains at bay is one thing, fighting Gorias La Gaul is quite another, no matter how old.”

  The action came so fast, the young men in chains thought La Gaul missed the two guards who rode out to meet him. Since the arrows fired bounced off the invader’s stomach and breast, they came at him with swords drawn. Gorias, reins still in his clenched teeth, swirled his swords and stabbed at the men. His weapons snapped back to his chest so fast that the men tumbling from their horses looked to ricochet off Gorias. One of them rose to his feet and looked down in astonishment as his intestines unfolded. No matter how hard he tried to push, he couldn’t make his guts get back in his body. Another lay on the ground gagging loud, clutching below his neck.

  Four guards stood at the front of the caravan, over a hundred yards from Maddox and Tammas. They brandished pikes and small shields, preparing to gore La Gaul’s mount. With a suddenness of a man shot out of the saddle, Gorias flew to his left, hit the ground with a slide, and his horse pulled up, avoiding the serrated pikes. His large frame slid to a stop at the feet of the bewildered pike men. With a thrust between their legs, he swiped his blades through the groins of the two nearest him, splitting them up to the seam of their buttocks.

  One of these guards threw back his pike so fast he skewered the man behind him in the face. Grabbing at the object lodged in his face, the man dropped his weapon and stumbled into the fourth guard. By the time the other freed his pike from the maw of the dying one, the tension in his legs were such from the earlier low blow that he collapsed.

  Gorias threw a dagger into the guard’s throat. Falling to his knees, the guard watched Gorias stand tall. The fable ran a luminescent blade through his opponent’s mid-section. La Gaul held him up with the sword long enough to retrieve his knife. Then he let the man drop before he faced the cheering mob of slaves. Quickly, he beheaded the other man he’d slashed. This guard, busy holding his manhood together, never even fought back.

  Two of the guards rode up on horseback fast. The one on the left threw a small misericorde at Gorias. He deflected it with his left sword, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a scowl. Another threw a heavy axe that did impact on Gorias’ head. His helmet tumbled off, but the ancient warrior wasn’t injured. His mane of gray and white hair flew free.

  Two more guards approached, riding fast after the others. One of these men had demonical eyes and the face of a fighting man. Ever the one to set his own rules, Gorias went to his knees just as these men arrived to clash with him, stabbing his swords into the bellies of the horses, trying to avoid the blades of the guards. This sent the riders airborne, but Gorias couldn’t get his swords free of the horses’ bellies with great haste. One put his hoof on the fallen helmet as it stumbled. The helm never gave an inch and the hoof slipped, sending the animal into worse torments as it hit the ground.

  The other riders were on him fast. Still on his knees, Gorias released his swords, waved his cloak off himself, and stabbed his forearms forward at the horse’s cannon and tendon. The attackers’ blades stabbed at his shoulders but glanced off his armor. One slid against his scalp but never made a cut. The riders didn’t comprehend what Gorias used to slice the legs from the horses, but the guards soon headed downward. The dew nails of the dragon on his armor had slit through the flesh and bone of the animals like spoons in gravy.

  He rose up, wrenching his swords free from the horses as two more guards rode in and came to a halt. They seethed at Gorias, but he returned a casual look. “Well, are ya going to die in the saddle or get off yer horses? Sit on your ass and bleed, for all I care, because yer gonna die.”

  The guards pulled back and ran, beating their mounts to a gallop. Even the ones on the ground who still watched did likewise, save for one. He pulled a long broadsword from a sheath on his dying mount and held it high. His glittering eyes belonged to a warrior and he wasn’t about to flee.

  Maddox held Tammas by the shoulder. “That man will never give in or run. Look at that bastard’s grin on his face. He is too stupid to realize he is dead already.”

  Gorias didn’t make a move forward, but waited for the man to rush him. However, this guard made no dive into the jaws of death. He circled Gorias in a defensive stance, both hands on his broadsword pommel. From what Maddox could see, the double-edged long-sword was heavy, probably crafted in the Foundry of Syn. The way he held the weapon showed he knew what he planned to do with it.

  Gorias watched the guard close, aware of what Maddox saw in this opponent. Usually content to let the fight come to him, he swished the swords and countered the movements of the guard.

  The aggressor said, “Dragon scales, hang my ass pink! You really are La Gaul, his own damned self.” There was no fear in his voice or eyes when he spoke. His recognition swiftly turned to determination and blood lust.

  No mouthy bravado came from the one man who certainly had lived enough to use it. “Deliverance will come.”

  The heavy blade swung to the right and the guard was met head on. He slashed around the other way. Again, Gorias blocked him smartly.

  “Nimble for an old cuss.” the guard said, chuckling. “That armor will make me rich!” He made a bold thrust, aiming for Gorias’ heart. The deathblow didn’t arrive, for Gorias slid to the left with the elegance of a dancer. However, he didn’t have a chance to drop his swords on the back of his attacker. This was what the guard assumed he would do, but the death strike proved a ruse. With great force, the assailant struck Gorias jaw with his left elbow. He let the weight of his sword drop against the scaled armor. Briefly he hugged Gorias close, avoiding the stroke of the two swords. The guard reached down to bring up his sword into Gorias’ armpit. If he found a crease in the armor, the old man’s arm would be off.

  While the guard still embraced him, La Gaul slammed his head into his opponent’s as he drew away. A wet pop echoed when the guard’s nose burst like rotten fruit. The sharp jolt of pain and spray of blood was enough to confound his planned dismemberment of La Gaul. It also gave Gorias a moment to step away then attack anew. The heavy blade did strike, but the move came off blunted by Gorias’ head thrust.

  The old warrior wasted no time. He slashed on either side of the man, who proved a dexterous fighter that warded off the at
tacks by the swords. Not one to pause over the gory figures of his dead comrades, the guard stepped on their lifeless chests and moved away from La Gaul.

  Gorias snapped his sword’s together at the handles and kicked at the guard’s shin. Stumbling badly, the powerful warrior regained his footing and faced him. Gorias used moves like a man fighting with a quarter-staff. In a frenzy of blind desperation, the guard swung his great sword in an overhand arc, connecting with the center of the false-staff weapon. Too late, he read the eyes of Gorias, for this was exactly what the old one desired of him.

  The handles disengaged their connection, but it wasn’t the blow of the broadsword. He twisted in his wrists, taking the terrific impact of the sword in the dragon skinned armor on his chest. The two blades snapped up, connecting on either side of the guard’s ears, cleaving into the skull. The momentum of the heavy strike carried both men down, but it was Gorias who shrugged the man off. The guard laid still, the top half of his head rolling away.

  Many cheers went up from the mob of prisoners as Gorias gazed down the line. He then proceeded along the procession, slashing his swords through the outstretched chains of the nearest captives.

  Tammas said with glee, “The chains are made of iron or steel. Your grandfather’s blades must truly be made of angel’s wings!”

  Maddox sighed and didn’t look at his friend. “Be quiet. You have been smoking Galenson’s herbs.” He noted Gorias’ blades never destroyed the broadsword, so he doubted their invulnerability.

  Gorias’ horse followed him as he walked toward his grandson. He said nothing as he slashed through their bonds. He handed the swords to the two youths.

  “Free the rest.”

  Maddox gripped the sword, admired it for a moment. “Why?”

  Gorias smirked, taking a great many breaths. “Because I said so.”

  “Any other reason?”

  The old man paused, leaning one hand on his horse. “Yeah. It’ll piss off Nosmada.”

  Maddox started to run then stopped and came back, almost as if to embrace his grandfather. Gorias reached out and the youth thought the old one meant to hug him. Instead he gripped Maddox shoulder and arm and popped it back into place. The boy screamed in agony.

  As Maddox sucked wind and tried to recover, Gorias drank from a flask.

  While Maddox rotated his shoulder as best he could, Tammas asked, “Where is Wyss…um…the thing from the bog?”

  “Where he belongs. I made sure of it. Now go on.”

  The boys went to the front and started to work their way backwards. One of the prisoners retrieved the keys from the cart in back and the act of freedom moved quicker. Tammas gave Gorias one of the swords back. Whether it was the presence of the keys or the youth’s fear of using the blade, Gorias never asked. While this jubilant act of freedom happened, he stalked to the rear of the caravan.

  *****

  Kayla stood over two dead guards and smiled as Gorias walked close to her. He slashed at her outstretched hands, landing a delicate blow, and Kayla’s face glowed. “I knew I could count on you, dear,” he said quietly. “Too bad you weren’t closer to the boys. My job may have been easier.”

  “It’s good to see you here,” she admitted, arms almost reaching out to him, but she held them back.

  “Hell, after last night it’s good to be anywhere.”

  Kayla stepped closer to him, her body gently bouncing off the frame of the fable.

  “Evening is coming soon. These maniacs have the right idea,” Gorias said, motioning to the slaves wildly going through the carts bound for Nosmada’s citadel. “Re-supply yourselves and cut horses from the guard stock. If one of these slaves gives you any mouth, cut it out of his skull.” The three gaped at him, astonished. He added, “I may be a liberator, but I ain’t no priest. I’m better at killing people than I am at being polite. Now get to it.”

  Gorias stepped close to a cart. Many short swords and spears were already gone from this wagon. He took out two steel blades very much like his own and walked toward his horse. Climbing back in the saddle, he exhaled. Clearly winded by the experience, he trotted away from the caravan and rested.

  Doing as Gorias requested, without the need to kill anyone, the three soon returned on horseback. Kayla even had her original mount that once belonged to the wizard of Nosmada. Tammas complained a guard had his, but the beast must have fled. Gorias knew the animal was the one with white stockings he gutted earlier, but said nothing. Many of the newly freed men dressed that particular horse for meat as they spoke.

  He pointed at the large weapon strapped to Maddox’s mount. “Son, I see you have the last guard’s sword.”

  “Yes. I’d like to use one more often. Mind you, he had a hard time giving it up.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, his death grip on the sword was so tight I had to chop off his fingers to get it. Still a powerful weapon, no?”

  “Yes,” Gorias said, rubbing his beard. “At least he died well.”

  Maddox shifted in his saddle, trying to get steady. “Well, I don’t know what comes next. I guess you stopped that damned Wyss from living on, right?”

  Gorias looked in the direction of Khabnur. He watched billowy clouds emitted from the Foundry of Syn. “Not sure what the move is for the rest of you, either. As for me, I think I have an ogre to see.” He stared at his hand then towards the open field.

  “Are you going to ride in there and confront Mitre alone?” Maddox said. “You are crazy! The Foundry is underground, save for the exhaust towers. I wager there’s a way in for sanitation, or an escape route of some kind, but that’s all unwise chatter.”

  Gorias gave him a severe look. “You’re the only one talking about it. If ya ever calm down, ya could be dangerous. That isn’t what I had in mind. Not exactly, anyway.”

  Maddox laughed. “That band of troopers from Nosmada’s army is probably waiting over the hill for us now.”

  “I agree,” Tammas said.

  Kayla said nothing. Her black eyes focused on Gorias. She had her hand over her shoulder, counting arrows in her leather quiver.

  Gorias said, “Shows how damned young and dumb ya both are then. If they gave a beggar’s toss about getting at me through you, they would have staked you all out in the desert for the leeches to get. They wouldn’t be trailing this caravan like so many green hunters. No, you’re just as good to them in the slave caravan. Tolin is a bastard, but he understands how important I deem various things. You would have all gone to the same place.”

  “What do you mean,” Tammas asked, a confused look gripping his face.

  “You think you were off to be house servants? You think these leeches are filling up on blood and walking to Nosmada for the hell of it? You can walk there just as easily and donate your blood.”

  Kayla nodded. “What does Nosmada want the blood for?”

  Gorias frowned, keeping his attention on the fields. “I don’t think I quite grasp it yet, but I got a really nasty idea. Anyway, no. You three and me, Hell, we’re the last things on their minds. Well, maybe not Tolin’s. I’m sure I’ll be walking inside that skull for as long as he breathes, maybe longer. Now, I have a score to settle with Mitre Stillwell.”

  Tammas asked meekly, “Doesn’t he run the foundry where Tolin and the forces of Nosmada are going?”

  Gorias looked at the smoke from the stacks in the distance. “Nothing gets by you, kid. Yeah, I need to find out just what Mitre is doing in his spare time. If I ride hard, I may be able to make it in and out before the forces of Nosmada get there in a few days. It’s taking his army a long time to march there because their force is so large. I wager they are a day or so away now. Their pickets and rangers must be out, so watch yer asses.”

  “Are you going to tell my mother Wyss is no longer a threat?”

  Gorias looked at Kayla as if the idea was alien to him. Minutes tick
ed away, wheels turning in his head, until he said at last, “You know, I just may have to see Lira Rhan one more time. I think her and that army of mercenaries may come in handy after all as this falls together.”

  Tammas started to say, “About this Tolin hating you so much…” but Gorias cut him off.

  “Maybe legends shouldn’t have kids? Maybe.”

  “Grandfather…” Maddox fell silent as the old man looked off at nothing.

  “He grew up away from me,” Gorias said, gripping his belt. “Learned to listen to idiots and lying tongues. It happens. I couldn’t be there to hold his hand forever. Long ago, when I did, he thought I was all that there was on Earth. Evil separated us forever. Folks want to know why I kill the bad guys. Well, I’ll never get to hold that little hand again because of evil.” He looked at Tammas. “Kid?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Sing me some old dirges, if ya will. They help pass the time on a hard ride. My memories fade off if I sing them to myself.”

  “Very well. Any requests?’

  “Preferably one without me in it.”

  Maddox jeered, “You really want him to sing?”

  “Beats having him talk. He’s detrimental to good conversation.”

  Tammas sang;

  “One last kiss upon thy lovely dying lips.

  Allow me this, my love.

  All of our torrid lives, through hardships and strife

  Blood and lust, war and peace, heaven and hell

  We endured it all...together.

  Alas, no more...you must confront the dark warrior, death

  alone.

  He might not let thee past unmolested.

  He might desire a fee of thee, because he knows me so well.

  We both know the power in the dying so well.

  He may fight me someday to relinquish his title

  Whisper to him, tell him you love me. That should repulse him.

  Go now, my queen, into the land of eternal afternoons

  Await thy warrior there