He spun and thrust, staggering the second guard by piercing his thigh. His other blade knocked the scimitar down so that the blade in his right hand returned from the side and chopped into the guard's neck far enough to end the fight.
A third guard hesitated when he saw Carson's aggressive fighting style. He stood his ground until Carson lunged towards him. The scimitar hit the ground and the guard turned and ran for a side passage. Jakar sneered at the man and called after him.
Carson turned back and saw that Alto had killed all three of the guards he fought as well. He stood there, his chest on display as it rose and fell with each breath. The last shreds of his burnt shirt had fallen away.
The two knights approached, one towards Alto and the other at Carson. Carson frowned as the fully armored figure approached him. The knight had a sword and shield, as well as plate mail covering him from head to toe. He was still frowning and wondering how to hurt the man when the knight swung his sword at him.
Carson knocked the blade aside with one blade and struck out instinctively with his other. It clanged off the knight's cuirass. His other sword was bounced off the knight's pauldron and then Carson stumbled backwards as the knight pushed his shield into Carson's chest.
The ranger collected himself and parried the follow-up strike from the knight. His blades struck against armor but were denied. He stepped back, gaining himself some time, and then found he had to circle around the knight to his right as his opponent advanced on him. He heard a muffled chuckle from inside the helmet.
"Go ahead and laugh," Carson said, drawing the knight after him. "You're heavy and slow. I can run circles around you all day."
The knight lunged forward, forcing Carson to leap away and parry the strike at the same time. The knight came after him, only to stagger and fall to one armored knee when Karthor's mace crashed into his helm from behind.
The knight shook his head and swung his shield, forcing the priest to back up. Carson leapt in and hammered his blades at the knight, trying to poke through soft points in the armor. The knight rose and turned so that both men were in front of him. Carson kept striking out, forcing the knight back step after step until he judged he'd gone far enough.
The ranger shifted to his right, pulling the knight's attention and creating an opening for Karthor to step into a swing that crashed into the knight's shoulder and spun their armored foe back to his right. Carson dropped both his blades in a desperate gamble and jumped into the knight, grabbing his left shoulder and twisting it even as he brought his body to bear against his off-balance foe. The knight teetered and took a step, only to have his leg stopped by the rock that served as a wall for the pond in the room.
The knight crashed into the small pond with Carson on his back. He thrashed in the water, spraying it across the room, but Carson stayed on the back of the heavily armored warrior. In moments, the knight stopped struggling and a few final bubbles burst free from the surface of the water.
Carson rose up, soaked through, and shook his hands to air-dry them as much as he could. He looked over and saw Alto yanking his sword out of the side of the knight he faced. Alto's heavier sword fared much better against the knight's armor, it seemed. Carson grabbed up his blades but watched as the knight fell back to a knee but raised both sword and shield up. Alto kicked him in the chest beneath his raised defenses and knocked him onto his back.
Carson turned and saw Jakar edging towards the hallway the guard had escaped down earlier. The ranger shook his head and took off at a run towards him, his wet boots finding poor purchase at first. Jakar yelped and turned to run, only to have Carson crash into him and sending them both tumbling to the floor.
Carson lost his swords in the crash, fearful he might kill Jakar and lose Alto's only lead. They rolled apart and Carson scrambled to right himself. He rose up on his knees but Jakar kicked him in the side, forcing him back to the ground. Carson ignored the ache in his side and the sudden emptiness in his lungs and tried to rise again.
He spun around and saw Jakar standing over him with a dagger in his hand that he saw was the same as the ones the Stalkers had tried to use in the inn. He threw his hands up to block or at least soften the blow but it never fell. He heard a crunch and then a howl, prompting him to lower his hands. Jakar stood holding a broken arm and staring at the mace-wielding priest who towered over him.
Carson turned and saw Alto yanking his sword free from where it had split the breastplate and gorget of the knight. Alto strode over to them, his red face set in an expression that promised pain and misery. He raised his sword and pointed it at Jakar, and then shifted it to the right and stabbed it forward into the man's uninjured left shoulder until the wide tip of his steel grated against bone.
Jakar cried out and fell back, stumbling and falling to his knees. Blood soaked his arm. He looked up, fear in his eyes. "You'll all die, no matter what you do to me!" he spat at them.
Alto nodded and raised his sword. "That may be, but you'll die first."
Chapter 11
"He lives here?" Garrick asked as they stood outside a plain-looking small house with a tile roof.
"Not all wizards live in elaborate towers," Kar grumbled.
"All this stone, it looks hot," the barbarian muttered. He turned to Mordrim and asked, "Or does it make it cold, like your caves?"
"They're not caves," the dwarf snapped. "Mines, carved from the heart of the earth to yield up her beauty."
Garrick snorted.
"Besides, these aren't stone. It's sand, mud, and clay baked by the sun. Doesn't hold out the heat as well but still better than wood or the hides of dead animals."
"Stop behaving like children," Kar snapped. He shook his head and sighed. "Come on and keep your mouths shut, no matter what surprises you may see."
Garrick made a rude noise. Mordrim nodded his head in agreement with the tall man's sentiments, but both warriors followed the wizard as he walked to the door and rapped his knuckles against it.
A voice came from nowhere, shocking the two warriors as it demanded, "Who intrudes upon the witch Arcturia?"
Kar rolled his eyes. "It's Kar. Now stop puffing up your chest—"
The door opened to reveal a woman with dark hair streaked with gray. She wore a vest laden with pockets and a loincloth that rode low on her slender hips. The fabric that hung from it fell between her legs in the front and back but never touched, nor did it reach past her knees.
"Kar!" The woman stepped forward and embraced the wizard. She backed away after a moment and let her eyes take him in from head to toe. "You're looking well, old man!"
Kar glanced at his two companions and hesitated when he saw Garrick. "Pick your mouth up," Kar snapped. "Arcturia, these are some companions of mine, I suppose. Garrick, self-proclaimed hero of the Snowbear tribe to the north—"
"Clan!" Garrick growled.
Kar waved his correction away. "Whatever. And this is Mordrim, the dwarf charged with reclaiming his people's long-lost mines in the Great Divide."
"You travel in strange company," Arcturia said with a wry smile. "But friends of yours are friends of mine. Come in, all of you, please."
She stepped back and gestured with her long and slender arm for the others to enter. Bracelets and rings decorated her arms. Garrick frowned and leaned back to look at the house. "Is it big enough?"
"I told you to hold your tongue," Kar hissed at him.
Arcturia laughed. Her eyes traveled down the warrior's body. "I certainly hope so," she said.
Garrick turned to the dwarf with a grin on his face as soon as Arcturia turned away from them. Kar followed her inside, gesturing for the two warriors to follow him. As soon as they passed the threshold, the air chilled and the room darkened. The entryway they were in seemed larger than the entire house, let alone the rooms farther into the house they could see.
"What sorcery is this?" Garrick hissed and reached for his sword.
"What part of hold your tongue haven't you understood?" Kar snapped at him.
"You've entered the home of a witch. Been invited, I might add. Show some respect at her hospitality."
Arcturia stepped around Kar, her leg presented with a slight bend to it that showed off how long and lean it was. "I've found that whenever I invite a strong young man into my chambers, they are often unprepared for the delights that await them."
Mordrim coughed and turned away. Garrick grinned.
"Arcturia," Kar said, "this isn't a social call."
She pouted. "It seldom is with you, Kar. It's been what, thirty, forty years since you last came to me without needing something?" Her pout turned to a grin and a wink as she added, "Then again, I suppose you needed something then too, didn't you?"
Kar cleared his throat and ignored the redness spreading across his cheeks. "I'm after something else this time. Knowledge."
Arcturia sighed. "If I'd have known how lonely and demanding it is rising to my rank, I might not have worked as hard as I have."
Kar laughed. "Yes you would. You're just as power hungry as the rest of us."
She frowned and then smiled, the wrinkles smoothing out on her face. "You're right, but our peers are all so full of themselves and too busy to have fun anymore."
"And you're less busy?"
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
Both warriors chuckled when Kar failed to come up with a response. "Yes, well, you are. And I need to know something about alchemy."
"You never were much for potions," she observed.
"I can brew a potion just fine," Kar snapped. "Just because I don't find it to be the path to understanding and employing the great arts doesn't mean I'm not much for the discipline."
"Listen to him go on," she said while looking at Garrick and Mordrim. "He once burned all the hair off his head trying to mix a simple potion of favor."
"Potion of favor?" Garrick asked.
"I couldn't read the chicken scratches you call handwriting!" Kar protested.
The witch ignored him and answered Garrick. "A potion of favor helps with the little things you never notice in life. Speeding your pace so you avoid the carriage that would have run you over. Urging you to play the right card or put a twist into your wrist when you throw some bones."
"We're not here to re-live old times’ sake," Kar snapped. "I'm here to find out about some poisons."
Arcturia stiffened. "Poisons? You should ask Benjalli," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't brew poisons."
Kar let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Benjalli has no principles; he will see anyone to finance his research. I came to you because I'm hoping I can trust your discretion."
"My discretion? Oh my, you don't want to poison somebody, do you? Who? Certainly not someone down here—you live in the north. Is it a royal? A little regicide, perhaps? Oh, I do love upheavals. It gets me excited and, well, you remember what happens then, right?"
Kar shook his head and took out the ring that Mordrim had obtained. "I'm not poisoning anyone! This is a Stalker ring, is it not?"
Arcturia leaned back. "How'd you come by such a thing?"
"Rather obvious, I thought," Kar said.
She nodded and licked her lips. "Yes, I suppose it is. Benjalli is not the man to speak to."
"He supplies them?"
She glanced around and nodded. "They use many poisons, though., I take it you know someone that was killed by this ring?"
"Killed, no. At least not yet," Kar amended. "He's sick with it but holding on. A stubborn lad. I'm also here to find a cure for a sleeping poison the Stalkers use. It was used on a princess of the kelgryn."
"The kelgryn? Is that why you're here, northerner?" Arcturia turned to look at Garrick.
"I'm not kelgryn," he said. "My homeland is north of there. Beyond the Northern Divide."
"I've heard there are giants in that realm. Tell me, are you a giant?"
"Arcturia!" Kar snapped. "My friends need help urgently. Your pursuits must wait."
"Must they, Kar?" Arcturia asked. "What if I choose not to help you? What will you do then?"
"Go to someone else."
The witch laughed. "Who will you go to? Benjalli won't help you and nobody else in this city knows what I do. The only man more versed in lore and poison is a wizard I haven't seen in ages."
"Who is he?" Kar asked.
"A wizard named Therion, but it will do you little good since he lives far from here. Last I heard, he had gone north in search of some nymph. I expect he's long dead now, taken into her embrace and robbed of his vitality."
"I've heard of him," Kar said. "His tastes ranged far from alchemy. He did a number on the creatures of a forest on the border of the kingdom. From what I heard, somebody did a number on him, too. Acquaintances of mine found him dead in his bed."
"Well, see," Arcturia said with a shrug that made the jewelry on her wrists jingle, "now you have no choice but to put up with me."
Kar sighed. He turned to Garrick. "Will you do us a favor and bed the wench so she'll get what she wants and give us what I need?"
"Bed the wench?" Garrick and Arcturia both repeated.
Arcturia laughed. "Kar, you've become so focused and impatient. I miss the younger man willing to stop and enjoy life's more passionate moments."
Mordrim and Garrick shared another glance. The barbarian turned to the wizard. "You want me to bed her? The witch?"
"The witch who's standing right in front of you. Yes, he does," Arcturia said with a smile. "He's rude and arrogant, not to mention presumptuous. Who says I would bed you? How do I know you could live up to the promise that such a big, strong, and virile body teases?"
Garrick stiffened and stared at her. "I've never had any complaints," he said. "I've killed a giant and more ogres than a man can count. I've never left a woman's bed without leaving a smile on her face."
"Bold claims, but can anyone speak to them?" Arcturia asked.
Garrick's brow furrowed. He turned to Mordrim and saw a calculating look on the dwarf's face. Mordrim nodded at length. "Aye, it's true that he killed a giant. Used my hammer to do it. I seen it happen. He's felled many an ogre, too, but I suspect the reason he can't count them is because he can't count."
Arcturia laughed while Garrick glared at the smiling dwarf. "And the part about the women?"
Mordrim shrugged. "Give him a try. I suspect you'll smile when he leaves, too."
The witch burst out laughing and even Kar let a chuckle slip. Garrick clenched his fists and took a step towards his short companion.
Arcturia stopped the pending violence by turning back to the wizard. "Kar, the truth is I don't know enough about the poison to stop it. I have a mixture that will negate a lesser poison, but the one you speak of is powerful. My potion will force it into hiding, but it will come back after three or four days."
"How do we stop it? My son is a priest and even the blessings of Leander aren't lifting it."
"Karthor?" Arcturia asked with a sudden smile. "How is the boy? Last time I saw him, he was no taller than your hip. And a priest now, is he? Good for him! Glad he didn't follow his father's footsteps."
Kar scowled at her. "Karthor's doing fine in spite of being a priest."
Arcturia winked at the wizard and said, "Good. He survived being your son—I'm sure he can survive anything."
Kar bristled at her but before he could speak, she went on to turn to Garrick. "You do look so terribly tasty, Garrick, but I'm afraid I will spare your goodwill. I have some rather unusual tastes and you might find them…unsettling. I will give you what I have for this temporary cure and tell you how to make more. Hopefully Kar can manage it without burning the house down around him."
"What about a permanent cure?" Kar ignored her jibe and asked.
"Death cures all," she suggested. She laughed at the scowl Kar gave her but it was short-lived. Her expression turned serious. "If Therion is dead, you might be in trouble. He has some books that might help. Texts on herbs and recipes for all manner of things. He might have jotted something down in any
journals he kept as well."
The wizard frowned. "I came by some of his books," he said. "I'll check them again, but I saw nothing of herb-lore. I believe some of his tomes were taken by others, though."
Arcturia winced. "Find them, if you can. Your princess's survival depends on it."
Kar nodded. "We'll find them. I appreciate the help—and your discretion in this matter."
Arcturia smiled at him. "For old time's sake, my friend, and for your own discretion so long ago you can consider this matter only between us." She turned and walked through a doorway deeper into the house.
Garrick started to follow but Kar's hand pressed against his chest, stopping him. "No sense in leaving a woman wanting more," Garrick offered. "Even if she is a witch."
"There is this time," Kar said. "That little discretion many years ago that she mentioned? Yes, well, let's just say she had to change her name."
"Trouble?" Garrick frowned.
"She was just learning the art of alchemy," Kar explained. "And still making many mistakes herself."
"She burn something down?" Mordrim asked, caught up in the story.
Kar chuckled. "No. No flame, just an unexpected side effect from an improper mixture."
Both warriors glanced at each other and then back at the wizard. "What happened?" Garrick finally asked.
"Her old name, never to be spoken again, was Arcturion," Kar whispered.
"Arc—isn't that a man's name?" Garrick asked.
Kar pursed his lips and nodded.
"But she's—" Garrick's eyes widened.
"Yes, precisely. She spent many years trying to re-create the mistake to undo it. She was only partially successful. She'd grown so accustomed to her new body that she decided to leave well enough alone."
Garrick shuddered and Mordrim asked, "Partially successful?"
Kar glanced down his own body and thrust his hips forward. "She was able to restore something," he said.
Garrick's jaw dropped open. He shook his head just as Arcturia walked back into view and stepped through the archway. She handed a metal flask and a folded letter to Kar. "A single swallow every three days. More would be a waste. The recipe is in the letter, in case it takes longer than the single potion can provide."
Chasing the Dragon Page 8
