Axiom

by Dennis Vanderkerken

  Artorian calmly pulled yet another arrow from the quiver on the ground, set his aim, and let loose. Raiders fell like chalk targets in a shooting gallery. They shambled with tired, lumbering, hesitant steps in straight lines. Not a single zigzag among them. They were too tired, stressed, and frazzled to consider tactics more complicated than ‘toss arrows into the woods’.

  *Crash*! The sound of a door being kicked down caught everyone’s attention as Hakan punted it open. Her voice was shrill and full of threat. “Get into the forest! Get into the forest and kill that piece of lard making sport out of your brothers!”

  There was going to be more to her speech, but a screaming arrow pierced the air, going straight for her throat. Artorian cursed under his breath as he was witness to unbelievable reaction time. Hakan snatched the arrow out of midair! Her head was tilted to the left, avoiding the sharp end that was currently where her eye would have been. He wasn’t going to be able to snipe this beast, hmm? Well, nothing was stopping him from trying a few more times. Only one had to succeed, after all.

  Given that she matched Switch’s description, this must be Hakan. The raider leader was absolutely covered in blades. If there was room on her where another could fit, the old man didn’t see it. Picking a new arrow, he sent it through the jugular of a dawdling raider who didn’t know whether to obey or just aimlessly keep firing.

  Unfortunately for the weathered sniper, that had been the last straw. The raiders with heavy axes finally disregarded the threat of the wood. They charged into the thicket wall and began chopping their way through. To the abyss with whatever horrors the forest held! There was an archer picking them off, and now Hakan was going to make mincemeat out of them if they retreated.

  In her own words, “Cutting will continue until morale improves.” The raiders shuddered at the thought and began making their way through the wall of thorns. Artorian’s firing line was abandoned as he saw the charge. Hastily, he snatched the last full quiver on the line and hoisted it as he hustled back to the makeshift camp. A few dozen raiders were too much!

  “I’m sorry, little ones, I need the protection.”

  Sugar gliders went flying from his robes as a disorganized swarm as he snatched up his clothing and shook them wildly to get the infestation of fluffs out. Throwing his shirt on, he wrapped the inner gi over his shoulders and slid his arms in, hurriedly binding the front with the appropriate cloth belt before throwing the Lapis robe over himself. Sure, it was visible, but more layers meant more protection that needed to be stabbed through. He downed a full waterskin in one go, tossing it back into the sack he was abandoning.

  In a rush, he scanned over his supplies. “What do I need? What do I need? Ah!”

  The sack with the potion-filled bandolier made its way around the inner gray gi. The sturdy cloth prevented the bandolier from cutting into his skin, so he tightened it a good amount to prevent the potions from jostling. He was about to need them. Latching the quiver on to his back, he bolted for the part of the wood where he’d first entered between the hills. After only a few steps, however, he skidded to an ungraceful halt. “Oh, ho~o~old on. Mustn't forget.”

  Refined Essence entered his eyes, and the energy lines serving as trap wires among the root system became visible. An extra second was taken to carefully step over those as he got back to hustling in direction of the pass. He steadied his breathing as if on the morning jog, ducked low to avoid breaking branches, and stepped past the hole where the skunk lived.

  Shoulder-checking the opening, he released a hiss as some thorns got him. Artorian tumbled on to grass once again as momentum carried him through. He’d outright forgotten grass was so abyss-blasted slippery. One day in the woods and he forgot about how things outside of it worked? That’s odd. He wasn’t usually so forgetful. Well, no time like the present to relearn.

  Point of order, he had raiders on his tail. While they didn’t have his current position, his miniature camp wasn’t exactly hidden; they’d find that in no time. The right side of the woods was still claw-and-fang territory, so he wasn’t about to rush in there. For a moment, he wondered if raiders had entered that section, then heard the yelped screams coming from the appropriate direction. Looked like yes. They must be trying to flank him in the woods. “Haw!”

  He needed to be where the raiders were not. That meant—he sighed, coming to terms with the truth—inside the keep.

  He didn’t have the luxury of time to find an alternative, so he picked up his hustle. Climbing the second hill was still done cautiously, and he flattened himself atop it when he arrived at the crescent. His eyes darted across the landscape; barely a raider remained behind. He didn’t have eyes on his children, so they must have been inside. Then again… he also didn’t have eyes on Hakan. A bad feeling told him that monster was also inside.

  *Thwip*!

  Pain seared his shoulder, and he gripped it tightly with an, “Argh!”

  Artorian’s face scrunched, and through wet eyes, he saw the protruding arrow. Swiftly, he ripped it free and checked the tip. No clear coating. No venom on this one. He rolled away from the direction of the attack and slipped a weak potion free, drinking it down before ditching the vial. A second arrow missed him, then a third went wide. Pushing from a roll into a stabilizing knee, he rose up, drew an arrow, and found the target immediately. It was hard not to as the impatient, distracted raider was charging straight up the hill at him.

  *Fhwizz*.

  “Hurk!” The pained gurgle preceded a twitchy slump on to the wet grass. Still moving, the raider tried to get back up but was met with a second arrow launched point-blank into the back of his skull before he could scream the alarm. The raider’s world went dark as footsteps hurried past him, headed to the right portcullis of the keep.

  Artorian felt his heart race. He was thrilled as only an old soldier could be, completely engulfed in the pressure like he was back on the campaign trail. At the gate, two raiders who had just left the keep spotted him, drew blades, and rushed the unknown intruder with wild, screaming abandon. Luckily, their screams blended into the cacophony of screams around the area, and the raider in front was swiftly silenced via an arrow to the noggin.

  The remaining rusher had more luck, sinking his blade into the strap of the bandolier on the bearded Elder’s side. The blade pierced! Showing his teeth in a dark grin, he believed the shallow cut was a kill, and the raider celebrated early, pushing to drive the knife deeper. At least, he would have had his spine not snapped from an inhuman impact. The lanky brute’s body warped in on itself as a point-stop palm strike struck him low and from the side. The impact hadn’t been powerful, but it had crushed the non-cultivator’s insides into twisted pulp, and several vertebrae cracked loudly as spinal discs shattered.

  That was all Artorian needed to truly grasp the difference between a cultivator and a non-cultivator. He could indeed handle ten men like this at a time.

  *Shwip*!

  A point-blank arrow to the skull put the raider out of his misery. Artorian wasn’t having any of that ‘rise up to come at me again later’ nonsense. Rushing to the wooden door, he slid to a stop and lifted his bow as the door began opening again. Nocking an arrow, he drew the string taut.

  “Elder?” Wuxius’s face was surprised, disbelieving that the old man was truly, actually here in person. Wux sprung himself forwards and squeezed the Elder, who eased his bow down and wrapped his own arms around his child. Artorian felt utterly destroyed, his resilience shattered; his murderous focus was gone in an instant. He was getting to hold his grandson again! Artorian’s chest clenched and his eyes threatened to water. The fact that he had no blood relation to this lad meant nothing. He had chosen to be family.

  “My dear boy.” Artorian let free an *hrk* as Wux squeezed him too hard, and the old man had to firmly tap him on the back to make the youngster let go. “*Cough*. I’ve come to… *cough*… get you all. Just as I promised I would. I’m so sorry it took this long.”

  Wuxius released his Elder
and snapped to the business at hand, a trait he’d been forced to learn and master over these many seasons. “Lunella is still inside. The others were taken elsewhere years ago. We don’t know where… just that it’s some other raider camp.”

  Artorian gave a sharp nod and pulled the boy along into the building, speaking quickly, “I’ll find them, just as I found you. Where is Lunella? Let’s get you both out of here. Salt village will be safe enough by the time you get there; it’s a cleric’s cloister now. When you arrive, ask for Tarrean.”

  Wux nodded but saw something move in the hall and pulled the Elder back. Artorian tripped into position behind a wall like a falling child. Hurried footsteps shot past. Wux stood firm and raised his hand in greeting, but the sound of two raiders grunting at him was his only reply. Wux was relieved that his distraction was enough to make them look away from the Elder he was hiding but discovered immediately afterward that his Elder was not reacting as he thought he would.

  Instead, Artorian dropped one of the raiders who had been walking away with an arrow.

  Wux froze in place. When the other raider turned to see what had happened, he too slumped, landing face-to-stone with a new arrow hat. Wux just turned around and gave the old man a look, but his Elder wasn’t willing to tarry. “Where is Lunella? I want to be in and out.”

  Wux didn’t have a good reply; he could only glance down the dark hall those raiders had just come from. “With… her.”

  The difficult expression marring Wux’s face told Artorian everything he needed to know. “Go in there and distract her. I need that woman to not be looking at the door.”

  A confident nod from Wuxius was all the reply he got, but between two men seasoned by hardships, that was all the reply needed. Wuxius didn’t need light to see in the dark passageways, being used to them. He didn't give thought to how the old man was not only keeping up with him but surprising each raider in their way with a close-range *fwiii* to the face.

  The youngster from the Salt village quickly learned that his Elder liked to aim for the head or the throat and nowhere else. It made him shudder, but he ignored it easily enough since he was already having trouble reconciling his kindly, gentle-hearted, old Elder with this sniping shadow assassin. He could have sworn there was a light hiding behind the Elder’s eyes but didn’t have the time to bring it up as they reached a heavy wooden door.

  “It’s this one,” Wux spoke under his breath as if he was about to enter a mausoleum. His bow-wielding Elder pressed to the wall so he wouldn’t be spotted when the door opened. Wuxius knocked. An infuriated gnashing came from the other side.

  “Enter,” Hakan called out in a shrill tone, consulting three of her apprentices at once, Lunella among them. Wux’s secret love raised a brow at the entirely-out-of-character behavior; he never came without being called. The assistant hastily stepped in, leaving half the door open.

  “Apologies, I had an urgent message.”

  Hakan didn’t have time for his words and rolled her hand for him to get a move on. Her free hand covered her eyes as her head sank low. It was always distraction after distraction with these wretches! A drawn knife swung through the air.

  *Shlink*!

  Wux’s knife divided a feminine throat, forcing a gargled protest that gathered all of the raider leader’s attention. She dropped her hand, eyes wide in surprise as the low-class male offed one of her prized apprentices. Hakan was so stricken… she couldn’t believe what she was seeing! She would have butchered him, but a slimy itching on her spine screamed danger.

  *Fwhizz*!

  Hakan’s hand snapped up, and the tip of the arrow managed to cut her cheek as she caught it. Her lips curled into a cruel smile as she discovered the ploy. “I was hoping I would have the chance to hunt the hunter.”

  Lunella and Wux didn’t hesitate, moving as Lunella drew her dagger. Ubana, the final apprentice in the row, prepared to pull her weapon as well. A traitorous male and a mysterious hunter needed cutting! Together with her fellow apprentice and master she could… *Shling*!

  She could… A gurgle of blood left Ubana as it spilled from a sizable gash in the side of her throat. Her fanged dagger fell to the ground as she clutched her neck in utter panic, collapsing from the fatal wound Lunella had dealt her. Hakan’s attention was momentarily divided. Her heart thumped with rage and disbelief at the betrayal she witnessed firsthand.

  *Fwhizz*!

  Hakan didn’t catch this one, simply knocking it away. Still, she winced, raising her hand to see the leather on her glove cut open. Really? What was the ridiculous draw strength of that bow? She had to jump back, acrobatically circus-twisting so she was covered by a vanity dresser. One hunter was bad enough, but one hunter and two armed traitors?

  She snarled and spat at the ground. “Lunella, you little cretin! You dare betray me like this with your pet in range?”

  Wux turned red from anger. He despised when anyone insulted Lunella and doubly so when it came from Hakan. He spat back, full of heart-pumping adrenaline, “To the abyss with you, wretch!”

  *Fwhizz*!

  Artorian stepped into the well-lit room. Lunella pressed her hands to her mouth and was brought to tears as her Lapis-clad Elder strode forth and loosed arrow after arrow at the cabinet Hakan was using for cover. A sharp *hiss* let them all know that the shafts had penetrated.

  The snarl of a wild animal sounded as Hakan countered. The three Salt compatriots didn’t expect her speed as the raid leader bounded to the far wall and used it as a springboard to launch herself at the primary threat. Surprised but expecting some suicidal attack that would bring a blade to his neck, Artorian let himself drop to the ground, forcing the leaping Hakan to fly right over him.

  Her blade cut only air, but for a moment the eyes, of opposing ideologies met. Hakan didn’t know who this old man was, but she knew without a doubt that she hated every. Single. Fiber of his being. She was going to lash and claw, rip and tear, cut and bleed him until the husk that remained was unrecognizable.

  Dropping the bow, Artorian was quickly on his feet. Rather than engage in a one versus three melee, Hakan decided to bolt when seeing the armed traitor’s approach. She chose to not engage at such a disadvantage and took off at a full sprint down the hall Wux and Artorian had come through. The old man could give chase, but he didn’t.

  He had his priorities in order.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Artorian’s arms opened to receive his children as soon as they had a reprieve. This was all the invitation Lunella needed to smash her face into her favorite grandfather’s chest. Bawling like the abandoned babe she was, the lack of threat made her need for support and family skyrocket. It was impossible for her to decipher her emotions; she could only describe it as being found again.

  “My dear granddaughter…” Artorian held Lunella tight, not hesitating to pull Wux in with them. The silly lad had just been aimlessly holding his own arm, lost in the chaos of the moment after his plan had somehow worked. He was clever, but coming up with plans on the spot was Lunella’s gift, not his. His gift was seeing plans through.

  Artorian held his children close, his breath breaking into staggers from the warm tears at regaining not one but two of his hearts. The hug was long and drawn out. His mind told him that tactically, that was an idiot thing to do. Physically, he didn’t care. His children needed this, and he did too. It had been years, and taking a few seconds to rekindle their hope into blazing bonfires was worth any additional hardship he was about to face while extracting them. When Lunella let go, so did Wux. Artorian quickly pried open the buckle of his bandolier.

  “I have gifts for you. Here, take these potions. You’ll need them more than me.” He forced the weight on to Wux, but the boy didn’t mind. Lunella took three potions from the already opened pouch and stuffed them defiantly back into Artorian’s pocket.

  “Take those,” she ordered him with stern directness. “No sacrificing yourself.”

  Artorian beamed a misty-eyed smile and sett
led a supportive hand on her shoulder. “I shall not. I have the rest of our family to save when I find them. Also, it’s about time you had this.”

  Without any fanfare, he took the Lapis robe off his shoulders and draped it around Lunella. She didn’t know what to say, and when she tried to speak, the words refused to leave her throat.

  Her Elder addressed her directly, now with both hands on her shoulders, “Years ago, I told Wuxius that he was responsible for taking care of you all. He did his best and took care of you. I’m proud of you for that, my boy.” He gave his grandson a pride-filled nod; both of them were trying to keep their lower jaws steady. Artorian’s bright blue eyes settled back on Lunella, whose expression was full of concern… and a sparkle of hope.

  “Lunella, my dear. You are the next Elder of the Salt village, and I name you as such, even if there’s currently a Church cloister on the land. I can tell when I see the deft hand of leadership at play. Rely on people. Wuxius will be there for you. Grandfather has a promise to fulfill.”

  He took a deep breath, and his heart was in this next part. His voice was filled with power, and authority reverberated through the air of the Fringe as he gave the words meaning. “I hereby grant you my dominion in the Fringe, Elder Lunella.”

  ***

  Far in the distance of the Fringe—in a small cavern under a village that used to gather salt—something underground rumbled to life. Vibrations transmitted through an interspatial web *thrummed* as the energetic brush of an oath being transferred caused enough of a disturbance to make waking worthwhile.

  Mana pulsed and built as chaotic light gathered power, a mandible-clicking orb gaining awareness, filling the small space to the brim in a reality-warping, space-shattering instant of spreading influence. Two places across divided distances connected, aligning to allow for an exertion as the cascading waves of power transferred from the orb’s current position to where it needed to be.