The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two)

by James Maxwell

  Layla stood at his side, arrow after arrow flying from her bow. A legionnaire crested the bank, coming at the Dunfolk healer with his sword raised, but Miro ran the warrior through, spinning on his heel and then blocking the cut of a second warrior attacking Layla from behind. As the enemy turned their attention to this new danger Miro scanned the bank, and seeing it was clear, leapt into the river.

  He slashed in a sweeping arc at another melding, a black-clad Tingaran with a rune-covered arm of metal. Miro's stroke was blocked by the warrior's enchanted sword. As the melding countered, Miro raised his zenblade and blocked his opponent's sword. He realised too late that the melding held his sword one-handed, before his vision went black as the melding's metal fist smashed into his chin.

  As Miro fell back the melding spoke some words and the runes on his arm blazed with colours of red and purple. Miro knew the next blow would kill him. He now had to watch both the man's arm and his sword.

  Miro recoiled from the pain and his song fell short. His enemy chose that instant to launch a series of blows at Miro's head and body, alternating sword strokes with punches. A thrust caught Miro's chest, turned by his armoursilk, and was swiftly followed by a straight punch at Miro's head with all the melding's formidable strength behind it. Miro ducked and weaved, the water dragging at his movements, giving himself time to let his breathing return to normal.

  Finally Miro blocked an overhead swing with his zenblade and then crouched and hacked at the melding's legs. The flashing enchanted blade encountered no resistance, slicing through one leg and continuing through the next.

  The melding screamed and fell. Instantly Miro was fighting yet another warrior, this time a flaxen-haired swordsman in the orange tabard of Vezna, his house confirmed by the sprouting seed raj hada. Veznans were not known for their swordsmanship, and Miro took him with a classic feint and thrust.

  Miro despatched his enemies one by one, taking the battle to where he was needed, fighting from one bank to the other until the river was a sea of bodies. He was distantly aware of arrows flying through the air, sinking into tree trunks with thunks or plunging into bodies with the screams of men signalling a strike.

  The river was once again cleared of the enemy, and Miro returned to Layla, his chest heaving, feeling as if he'd run from one end of Altura to the other.

  As Layla regarded Miro he prepared to brush away her thanks. "Don't waste your energy," she said instead. "Trust me, you will need it."

  Miro opened his mouth to respond, but stilled as Layla pinched his arm. "Here they come," she said, pointing.

  At first all Miro noticed was the sound, like the breaking of tree trunks as they were snapped off at the stem — which was probably exactly what it was. He exchanged glances with Layla as she pinched him harder, and for the first time he saw fear cross her inscrutable exterior.

  Miro turned back to the trees on the opposite bank, his jaw clenched and body taut like a bowstring. Across the river tree after tree began to topple, falling into the river along with the vines and bushes tangled up with them. Soon the river was a jumbled mess of tree trunks and branches. Fighting here would be treacherous.

  Then one of the creatures that had knocked the trees over appeared, and Miro looked up at the nightshade in awe. Gnarled and knotted, vines covered its limbs so that it was hard to see the nightshade's body through the rope-like entanglement. Its torso stood tall and thick, as round as a large table and covered in grey-brown bark. High on the trunk two sunken pits enclosed malevolent brown orbs, the nightshade's equivalent to eyes. It moved across the ground with a sliding motion as the roots in front took hold of new earth and those in back withdrew. Across the nightshade's trunk and on the limbs Miro could see runes that had been carved into the bark with essence. They glowed with colours of orange and soft green, barely visible against the creature's skin.

  The nightshade paused as it reached the river bank. Miro felt his heart race, and for the first time in an age he rehearsed the song in his mind before commencing his chant, suddenly fearful and unsure of himself. The second nightshade appeared, and if anything this one was larger than the first, a different breed of tree, an oak beside a cedar.

  Miro wondered how he had ever thought he could defeat them.

  "How did you defeat them the last time?" Miro asked Layla. He was shocked to hear his voice was shaking.

  "We didn't," Layla said. "The land across there," she pointed, "used to be part of Loralayalana."

  "Oh."

  Miro took a deep breath as the two nightshades paused, just fifty paces away, directly across the river. He rehearsed his strategy. He only hoped it would work.

  "Go, Layla," Miro said. "Tell your people to concentrate on the smaller nightshade. Keep it engaged, but draw away from it; make it chase you. If you can, your best plan is to tangle it with ropes and vines. Try bringing down bigger trees in front of it. Who knows, you might even pin it down with a heavier tree. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Layla said. "What about you?"

  Miro took a second deep breath, slowly releasing it. "I'll take the big one."

  Layla nodded and vanished. Miro stood, looking at the zenblade in his hands, realising that only if he gave it as much power as possible could he hope to damage the nightshade.

  The smaller nightshade lumbered forward, making slow progress as it hit the tangle of logs and branches strewn across the river. Arrows began to fly through the air, sinking into the grey-brown skin of the creature's torso. A limb appeared out of the vines and creepers to the left of the nightshade's body, a bushy branch that swiped across its trunk, and the arrows were all knocked away as if they'd never been there. The glaring eyes shifted, and the nightshade turned, moving across the river in the direction from whence the arrows had come.

  "No!" Miro shook his head as one of the Dunfolk ran out of the trees, a wicked hunting knife in his hand. The small man reached the nightshade and started to hack at the creepers at its base. Faster than it had moved thus far, the arm-like branch at the nightshade's side shot out as it picked the hunter up around the waist with hooked wooden fingers. A second arm appeared and grabbed hold of the hunter's lower half, the two limbs pulling until Miro heard a great tearing sound and the screaming warrior was torn in two. The nightshade threw the two pieces into the river and continued forward, arrows hitting it in a continuous hail.

  Once the way forward was clear, the second nightshade followed, the great trunk swaying as it moved across the scattered trees and branches, water streaming from its base as it moved through the river.

  Miro looked again at his zenblade. The slightly curved sword shone silver in the afternoon sunlight. He held the hilt in both hands and ran his eyes across the symbols that covered it from one end to the other.

  Ella had made this zenblade, just as she had made his armoursilk, soon after the battle at the Sutanesta where she had astonished even master enchanters with her skill. There was no one Miro would trust more with his life.

  And, Ella being Ella, she had added some new matrices to the zenblade and given Miro's armoursilk new properties. A bladesinger's song was complex, and Miro had been fearful to add so many activations, but he now felt that this was the time to try the new abilities out.

  Miro opened his mouth and started his chant. Rather than building up to it, he pushed himself to direct his song straight to the most powerful sequences of all, where he would turn the zenblade blue and his armoursilk would blaze like lightning.

  As the light of the runes lit up the forest the bigger nightshade's malevolent eyes turned. The creature's arms came out, the fingers clacking together, and Miro knew the nightshade had seen him.

  Fear hit him with sudden force. Miro voice shook and his song faltered, until with a croak he stopped, and it was gone altogether.

  The armoursilk went dead, leaving Miro as defenceless as a newborn babe. The zenblade was now just a sharp sword. Against the nightshade it would be like chopping wood with a bread knife.

  The nightsh
ade moved forward, reaching the bank where Miro stood paralysed and pushing itself up to its full height, towering over Miro even as its base stood in the water below him. An arm came at him, faster than he would have thought possible, and Miro ducked and rolled, feeling the horrible fingers pluck at his armoursilk and tear at his long hair.

  The movement kicked Miro into action. Suddenly he remembered the basic song of his zenblade, the core activations of his armoursilk. Ella's complex sequences were beyond him, but the next time the nightshade came at him he swung at one of the fingers, taking it off half-way.

  The nightshade reared up and for the first time Miro saw the appendages at its base leave the ground, water spilling and the ground heaving as it smashed back to the ground with the force of an earthquake.

  Miro decided to buy himself some time and jumped onto a half-fallen trunk, leaping to a second log and then a third, heading deeper into the thick forest. He finally paused in the crook of a huge tree and turned back.

  The great arm came at him and Miro dropped, the nightshade's hand smashing into where he had been just a moment before. He fell heavily to the ground, and rolled onto his back.

  The nightshade loomed over him; the creature could move with a speed that belied its size. Miro hurriedly picked himself up and for the first time faced up to the massive living tree. He added to the song of his zenblade, leaving only lightness and agility in the armoursilk, and the shining sword shifted hue from red to violet. Miro sang as he leapt forward, climbing the creepers surrounding the nightshade with a bladesinger's agility. The zenblade turned blue.

  Miro held onto a vine with one hand. He sensed the nightshade's clawing hands coming at him and knew he had just this one stroke. He held his zenblade with the other hand and thrust at the torso with all the strength of his honed muscles.

  The zenblade bit into the bark, piercing no more than a few inches into the trunk. The blow was inconsequential, and Miro realised he was a dead man.

  The two gnarled hands wrapped around him, yanking Miro away from the nightshade's body and holding him high in the air while the glaring eyes regarded him. Miro felt the hands begin to squeeze and pull. The nightshade was tearing him in two.

  Miro's song faltered and then stopped, the light of the armoursilk's runes slowly fading until it was completely dark. He had never felt such unbelievable strength; the nightshade squeezed at his body with a grip of iron, crushing his ribs and pulling his legs until Miro could almost feel them come out of their sockets.

  Miro thought of his sister, and of Amber, both somewhere far from home. Ella had always told him he was too reckless.

  Suddenly, Miro remembered.

  "O-lunara-o-sumara. Na-tumara-kan," he choked the new sequence his sister had built into his armoursilk.

  Miro's green armoursilk lit up with shimmering blue lines, sizzling with lightning. Even insulated as he was he felt the numbing jolt and his teeth smashed together, biting through his lip. The metallic taste of blood instantly suffused his mouth.

  What the nightshade felt would be much, much worse.

  The charge seared the bark of the nightshade's hands black. Smoke rose in a thick cloud and the nightshade screamed, a terrible sound that reverberated throughout the forest.

  In an instant it let Miro go, dropping him to the earth.

  Gasping, Miro checked his body for broken bones, but aside from the pain in his ribs and legs, he still seemed to be in one piece. He picked himself up and looked up at the nightshade, lurching from side to side in anguish.

  Miro checked his armoursilk; using the lightning effect had taken much of its power. He looked around for his zenblade and found it a few paces away.

  Miro was ready, and he now had a plan.

  He commenced his song, ignoring the pain of his body, adding the core sequences to both his armoursilk and his zenblade. Again he leaped at the nightshade, climbing up its body, but this time keeping an eye out for the sweeping arms. When a limb came at him, he was ready, and Miro put his whole song into the zenblade, turning the blade blue, giving his weapon an incredible searing sharpness.

  He swung at the arm with the same strength he had put into his blow at the nightshade's torso, and cut the hand off at the wrist.

  As the creature tossed and turned with pain, Miro held on with all his strength. The other arm came at him, and this time he cut the other arm off at the elbow. He continued higher, clambering up the vines until he was high enough to see where the limbs branched at the trunk. Miro cut the nightshade's left arm off, and then the right, before letting go and dropping gracefully to the ground.

  The nightshade raised a root-covered appendage to stamp on the bladesinger, but Miro cut again, leaving the nightshade unstable and filled with pain.

  With a mighty crash, the nightshade fell to the earth.

  Miro leapt atop the trunk and stood with his legs apart, his face grim as he stared down into the dark sunken eyes. He held up his zenblade and activated the new sequence Ella had built into it.

  The blade flamed like a burning torch. There was no enhancement of its strength, or its lightness, or its sharpness; this was simply pure heat.

  Miro looked at the burning blade and touched it to the thick trunk, between the creature's eyes. He held the weapon to the bark long enough to set it afire before continuing further, slowly moving down the nightshade's body, running the searing blade along its length to the base of its torso. As the creature blazed the runes on its surface turned black.

  The nightshade writhed and twitched, hissing and screaming, and then the creature was still.

  Miro turned away from the burning hulk. Over the crackle of the flames he heard screams and the sound of breaking branches.

  Layla! The thought of her fighting one of these creatures sent chills through Miro's bruised and battered body. He began to run.

  Miro followed a trail of dead hunters, their small bodies torn limb from limb or crushed into unrecognisable lumps of red flesh. Miro's rage grew. What chance did the hunters' arrows have against a nightshade? Miro's anger was directed at his own people. They had neglected to give the Dunfolk any help, and this massacre was the direct result.

  Miro's legs stretched as he jumped over logs and bushes, starting his song as he reached the scene of the battle.

  Ahead, the nightshade faced hundreds of the Dunfolk. Arrows stuck out from it in all directions; it was enraged, but far from crippled. Even as Miro watched, it picked one of the young hunters up and dashed her against a tree.

  Another young hunter climbed up the vines on the nightshade's body, hacking at the limb underneath. A heartbeat later the creature plucked him off and threw him against the ground with a terrible force before hitting him with its hand again and again.

  Near breathless from running, Miro's song almost faltered when he saw Layla step forward, a look of determination on her face and a bow in her hands. The Dunfolk healer took careful aim, heedless to the danger. She released her feathered arrow and true to her aim it flew through the air to lodge in the nightshade's right eye.

  The creature roared and reared back, before dashing forward and picking Layla up in its right hand. It started to squeeze. In a moment blood would gush forth from the healer's mouth.

  Miro jumped atop a log and leaped high as he could, launching off a branch to fly through the air. With his zenblade held at full extension he swung down.

  Miro took the nightshade's arm off at the shoulder, falling heavily to the earth.

  Still in the grip of the gnarled fingers Layla landed in a tangle, but in a moment Miro saw her crawling away, apparently unharmed. Miro noticed the nightshade's senses seemed to be impaired, and called out to the hunters. "The eye! Aim for the eye!"

  A moment later dozens of arrows sprouted from the upper region of the trunk. Finally an arrow hit the sunken area of the nightshade's other eye, the strike accompanied by a second great roar of pain.

  Miro took advantage of the nightshade's distraction to climb its body and hack away
its other arm. He dropped back down and cut at the creepers at its base, taking its appendages off root by root. When the nightshade fell to the earth it was instantly covered with swarming Dunfolk. They hacked the vines from its body until the last of its sprouting appendages were revealed, and with their sharp hunting knives they cut at it until it was trimmed down to nothing more than a trunk.

  "Leave it," Miro said. "The essence will kill it."

  Soberly, the Dunfolk gathered their dead. Some of the hunters returned to the river to watch for more of the enemy, but Miro could see this day's fighting was over.

  Miro thought again about the deadliness of the Dunfolk's bows. They had held off a horde of the enemy, the arrows thinning their numbers better than any volley of prismatic orbs. Only the nightshades had proven too much for the Dunfolk, but the hunters had learned today that the creatures could indeed be killed.

  If Miro could combine the ranged attack of bowmen with the close-quarters strength of infantry, what an army he would have!

  Essence supplies were low; only Rorelan and Miro knew how low they were…

  "Layla!" Miro saw the Dunfolk healer, pleased she had escaped her encounter with little more than scrapes and bruises. "Would you do something for me?"

  Layla frowned and looked at Miro. "That depends on what this something is."

  "Could you take me to your leader, the Tartana? I want to speak with him about your bows."

  Layla thought for a moment. "I will take you to see him. And, Lord Marshal Miro…"

  "What is it?"

  "Just this once, you do not have to worry about the customary gift."

  ~

  MIRO left Dunholme pleased with himself and the agreement he'd made with the Tartana.

  The Alturans would provide two bladesingers to fight with the Dunfolk on the northern border, for as long as they were needed. By protecting Dunholme from nightshades, the bladesingers would also be protecting Altura.