by BJ Hanlon
Merchants and lords tried to make the grading of long stretches as even as possible to encourage more commerce and easier troop movement.
Civil engineering was another subject too close to math and accounting, one he wished he could’ve avoided. Even drawings of grand palaces with high arches and skylights that shouldn’t have been possible bored him.
Edin eyed her rear as they walked, sneaking peaks over Master Horston’s shoulder. He absently created the small balls of light. A few hours later he heard Dephina laugh and glance back at them. Her thin lips grinning past Horston to Edin. Instantly he released the ball of light.
He stumbled forward as a small burst of energy left. His arms dropped to brace his fall before his face crashed into the ground.
It felt as if a deep fog began covering his mind. He slowly blinked trying to clear his eyes. Everything seemed fuzzy, a loud rumble rolled through his head sounding as if a hundred horses were charging.
He began to feel damp soil and ground cover beneath his hands. The scent of a fire burning came from somewhere, his eyes opened to see Grent standing and watching from a few yards away, a hand on the pommel of his longsword.
A thin hand gripped his bicep where the crillio slashed him weeks ago and Master Horston knelt next to him. Horston brushed the back of his palm against Edin’s forehead.
“Are you alright boy?” the old man said.
His brain seemed to clear, Edin tried to answer but his mouth felt like he’d just eaten a pound of bread without water. He nodded, only a small headache in the front of his head remained. Sliding back onto his ankles he pulled out his waterskin and took a few large drinks.
“What’s wrong with him?” Dephina’s voice said from somewhere ahead. It held the soft tones and vibrations of a practiced singer.
He felt a lump in his throat as he glanced between the two men.
“He’s a sick child, I’m afraid it is a malady I cannot diagnose.” Master Horston started, “we are bringing him east for a specialist.”
“And the scars on his arm?” Those are large cat or bear claws.” She said.
Edin saw the sleeve of his tunic was lifted to the shoulder. He quickly pulled it down and pushed himself to his feet.
“I’m okay,” Edin said and started toward Grent. The terrin watched him for a second before turning and continuing the trek at the edge of the forest. After a few more steps he smelled the burning wood again. He remembered the smoke to the south, but how long ago was that?
“Fire,” Edin said softly, his mouth was still partly dry, he took another drink from the skin.
“I don’t smell anything,” Grent said and stopped.
Edin walked up next to him and shrugged.
“The wind is blowing from the northeast…” Dephina called out from over their shoulders.
“It’s difficult to tell with the forest and the hilly terrain. Are you sure you smell a fire?” Grent said.
“A campfire,” Edin said and nodded. The smell was growing stronger.
“Damn, I smell it now,” Grent said looking at Edin out of the corner of his eyes.
“What other gifts do you have I must wonder.” Horston said.
Grent held up his hand and they stopped. “There’s a campfire somewhere up ahead. I’m going to check it out, you three stay here.” He looked directly at Dephina, “these are my charges, do not harm them or I will hunt you and the rest of your order down.”
She held up her hands as if to say she would do nothing.
Grent stalked quietly forward, he crouched though with his large form it was difficult not to spot him until he disappeared behind a thick tree.
Edin found a rock and sat. He dropped his head to his hands and shut his eyes. The dizziness that had hit him a fifteen minutes ago started playing through his head. Then he heard shuffling feet sounded off to his right.
“So,” Dephina’s voice came softly from a few feet away, “you’re sick?”
Edin registered her voice, it wasn’t concern, more curiosity. He kept his head down. She was an unknown, a beautiful and deadly woman. Dephina could teach him things and kill him all in the blink of an eye. A part of him wanted to deny the lie that he was sick in front of a woman like that. Her lean body, slight green blue eyes and diminutive smile, he wanted look strong… like Grent. Master Horston already ruined that by claiming he had a malady. Edin just nodded, his head still being cupped by his hands.
“You didn’t look sick when you threw the mug at the man attacking me. It was hearty strike, I was impressed.” Edin shrugged, he didn’t feel like talking or like meeting her beautiful eyes. He’d look into them and see either a killer or a woman who’d never be interested in him. Was she really an assassin? He had to know.
He opened his mouth a few times trying to wet it. “So, you’re an assassin.” He said. This time he looked up to catch her reaction. Her denial that he knew was coming. No one admitted to that.
“Sometimes, yes,” she said almost as an afterthought. “Other times I’m simply a bard, or a servant. Once I played a working woman… a prostitute. Though luckily I didn’t have to go that deep into character.” She winked at him.
“Why are you in the north?” Master Horston asked, “there’s not many people I’d imagine need killing in this part of the world. Down south, the cities… well I’ve known people who should’ve met your kind long ago.”
“My contracts are confidential teacher, and if you tell anyone about me, I’ll kill you.” She coyly grinned at Edin’s tutor. “Though, I will say, I doubt the people you believe need killing, and the people I kill are one and the same.”
“How do you know?”
“Well first of all, the people that deserve killing are usually my best customers?” She grinned.
“Then why do it?”
She shrugged. “It’s what I was trained for,” Dephina said. “Now I told you about me, how’d you get the scars on your arm?”
Edin glanced at the old man who was sitting on another rock a few yards away. His old bones weren’t what they used to be Edin guessed.
“They’re from a crillio.”
She raised an eyebrow and nodded. “You survived? I’m guessing your stoic protector was there to shield you? Didn’t do a great job.”
Edin shook his head, “I killed it,” he grabbed his necklace and pulled it from beneath his shirt. It felt good in his hand. Warm like some sort of talisman.
“impressive,” she said.
“I got lucky.” A second later Grent appeared from the brush and walked over to them.
“Bandits, about two hundred yards due east outside a large cave. At least ten of them, maybe more inside. They have a couple men watching the road from a ridge. The others are hanging back in the forest.”
Dephina drew her knives and muttered, “I hate bandits.”
“I’d rather avoid a confrontation,” Grent said.
“It’s not often I agree with you… but I do now,” Master Horston said. “We need to be quick and not draw attention to ourselves.”
“So, we can’t go to the road, or continue on the edge of the forest. So, do we delve deeper in these dark woods?” Dephina said, her tone incredulous.
“Only a half a mile… it will probably take us a few hours,” Grent said. “Edin, you know the woods, want to lead?”
He glanced around. “Not these woods… though I guess they look almost the same.” Edin stared at the tips of the trees a hundred feet above him. With the lack of sunlight penetrating the forest floor, the ground would be muddy and slippery. Crillio’s tracks would be easy to spot… if it ever put a paw on the ground. “Let’s go. Try not to step on any branches or rustle the leaves.” Edin said and began to head north.
“I wish we’d just take out the bandits,” Dephina said.
Edin glanced back at her, the woman was gazing east as if she was trying to see the men through the woods. Everybody hated bandits, except of course bandits, but her looked said she loathed them. Edin remembere
d a flicker in her eye when Grent first mentioned them. It was one of desire, a dark desire.
As they continued, the muddy forest floor inclined, though not too much. As he thought, the soil was damp and slippery. Edin pushed past a vines and steered around thick bushes beginning to flower. His eyes moved between the forest floor and the surrounding area, including the trees. After the crillio’s attack he wanted to be sure he wasn’t surprised again.
Soft speckles of dim sunlight the penetrated the trees. It was familiar to him, almost a welcome old friend. Edin estimated they moved about four hundred paces in, his thighs and calves were burning from the strain of walking uphill in mud. Another workout.
He paused for a second and waited until Grent caught up, “think we’ve gone far enough?”
Grent nodded as he took a drink from his waterskin. It wasn’t yet humid, but as the spring turned to summer, the trees would act like a blanket keeping in the warm moist air making the place hard to breathe. Edin spied a small patch of moss and turned east.
After about a half an hour, Edin wiped the sweat from his eyes. Too late he saw a log and stepped on it. The loud crack caused unseen birds to flap away, squawking and rustling the trees.
They all paused for a moment. Edin felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked toward the bandit’s hideout. Edin was just about ready to continue on when he heard a voice.
“Hide,” Grent whispered.
He moved quickly behind trees, Master Horston found a boulder the same color as his robe. Edin waited, trying to calm his breathing.
They’d moved through the forest; the only sound were their boots on the leaves. Poking his head out he peered down the hill, looking for any sign of movement.
Grent could probably take out all of the bandits himself, but a well-placed arrow would cut him down as easy as a blade.
Barely a breath later, Edin saw the first man climbing up the hill. He glanced around nonchalantly, then pulled a small piece of cloth out and wiped his head. The man took a few more steps and glanced to something on his right.
“We’ve checked far enough, haven’t we? What if a wagon shows up and we have to run?”
“If someone discovers us and we don’t deal with them, we’ll have to move. I hate moving...”
A loud sigh came from the second man. “I’m ready for an inn and a woman, I can’t be staring at all your ugly mugs for much longer or I’ll kill meself.”
The man grunted, “more for us then. You heard what the captain said, two more caravans and we head south.”
Edin pulled his head back as the first man turned toward him.
His feet were crunching on leaves and branches as if they were paved stone. He glanced back at Grent, the guard had drawn a small dagger from its sheath. Behind him about twenty yards was Dephina, she winked again with her blades poised.
As he watched he saw a branch rustle just behind her. His eyes grew wide and he almost called out. Grent saw what Edin was looking at and followed his gaze.
A man appeared and started to raise his blade.
Grent twisted quickly and threw his knife. It whistled through the air just past Dephina. The man flew back as if he’d been hit by a rampaging bull. The man crashed into a tree with a thud and cracking of bone.
Grent leapt from his cover with his sword drawn. Dephina was trying to move. Her face looked angry as she seemed to fight with her right leg. Her foot must’ve gotten stuck in the mud.
Edin drew his sword as a man circled the tree, apparently trying to flank Grent. Edin slashed at the man’s chest. But the bandit dodged it with a leap backward. Edin tried to follow up with a thrust but the man parried it quickly and stepped to Edin’s weak side. He dodged a quick thrust from the bandit that sliced his tunic and slashed his skin a few inches above his hip. It was a sharp burning pain, but nothing compared to the crillio.
Edin grabbed at the blade and felt the edge dig into his fingers then he brought down his sword near the man’s forearms. The bandit let go as Edin’s sword missed and slammed deep into the muddy ground.
He tried to pull it but saw the bandit coming at him with a smaller knife. Edin stepped back, tripped and heard the whoosh of the blade above his head. He crab walked back but noticed the bandit staggering then he dropped, a thin silvery piece protruding from just below his heart.
The man collapsed, fell, and rolled a few feet down the hill before stopping at a small rock.
“That wasn’t bad,” Grent said as he moved over toward the corpse and pulled his throwing knife. “But the remaining men probably heard us.”
Horston and Dephina were making their way to him, Edin saw one of her boots was caked in mud and small pieces of tree bark.
“I stepped in a hole,” she said.
“My blade?” Grent asked her. She handed him a second knife and he slipped it into his sleeve. “Now, we need to run.”
They ran, not sprinting as the terrain was still difficult, for about twenty minutes. Horston dragging in the back and huffing like a wounded horse.
The dried blood from his wound caused Edin’s tunic to stick to him like paint.
Besides Grent, the group was completely out of breath when they finally stopped in the lee of an outcropping of boulders.
They collapsed in a small circle, Edin lifted his shirt. In the low light, the blood looked almost black. He pulled the cloth out, breaking the scab and letting more blood out. He took a deep breath trying to suck in the pain.
“How is it?” Grent asked as he walked toward Edin. Edin shrugged. “Horston, do we have any Lodi paste?”
Master Horston started digging into his tunic and pulled out a small glass jar with the gooey substance Grent had used before.
The terrin poured the water over Edin’s wound and started to wipe it down with a piece of cloth. The thin slash was almost a perpendicular cut across the one Dexal had given him, though it was barely a quarter the size. “We’ll need a needle and thread too.”
Edin sighed, he wasn’t looking forward to this. Master Horston appeared with Grent’s bag. He pulled out a wine skin and handed it to Edin while Grent got to work.
The pain continued for fifteen minutes and Edin was surprised at how nimble Grent’s fingers were with the stitches.
He looked over and saw Dephina sitting across using her knives to scrape the mud from her boots.
“Soon you’re going to have as many scars as me,” the guardsman said leaning against the boulder next to him. He took the wine skin and drank heavily from it. “You didn’t do too bad, maybe the assassin is right though, you looked a little nervous, and we’ll have to add sparing to your training.”
“I have a name you know,” Dephina said looking up.
Grent nodded and took another drink. “Cold camp tonight, and we’ll need to set a watch. This deep in the forest, it’s not bandits I’m worried about. However, a lit camp… even this far into the forest would be a very enticing target for them.”
Edin agreed and took back the drink. After changing his tunic, he stared into the darkening forest. The new stitches meant he couldn’t put too much strain on his body. Practicing the forms or the Oret Nakosu was worthless.
Grent took the first watch, knowing him, he’d go deep into the night. The amount of endurance the terrin had was inhuman. But of course most things about his kind were. Edin thought.
He was just about to fall asleep when he saw Dephina stand and walk over toward Grent. She took a seat next to him and leaned her head against the boulder. She glanced toward Edin and he quickly closed his eyes. “Sorry I failed today,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again.”
Grent sighed, “you didn’t fail, you got stuck.” He chuckled softly. “It was rather funny, a Mireshka trapped in the mud like a hog.”
“Are you saying I look like a hog?” she shot out.
“No.” Grent said quickly, “not at all it was…”
“You think I’m a hideous animal?”
“No, not at all, you’re beautiful… it
was a poor analogy.”
She sighed. “Blotard,” she whispered.
Grent laughed, “Is that word making a comeback? I’ll say, it isn’t the first time someone’s called me that.”
“I’m certain it won’t be the last,” Dephina said. After a moment she said, “You’re a terrin?”
Grent nodded.
“And you have at least some healing skill.” Another nod. “And you protect this child. What is he the son of a viscount… You do confuse me.”
Edin frown in his bed when she called him a child, didn’t she realize he was a man? His eighteenth birthday was only a few months away.
“I have my reasons,” Grent said but didn’t add to it.
Her bringing up the question made it ran across Edin’s mind. The fighting, the skill with salves and needles… he was a terrin. If Edin were the duke’s or prince’s son… even the Grand Count of Porinstol’s son he could understand Grent’s presence. But as the son of a low noble from the north, he should have no such man watching his back. Edin closed his eyes.
“Have you run across more of my sisters?” Dephina said. There was no response. “And you lived?” Grent must have nodded accent.
“We weren’t opposing each other, though I believe she was more frightened of me than I her.”
“Unless she stood over you while you slept. Our blades our wicked in the night.”
“There wasn’t much sleeping involved.” Grent said in a flat voice.
Edin snorted a quick laugh too loudly.
“Quit ease dropping and get some sleep,” Grent said through a chuckle. He heard them stand and shuffle further away.
The fire burned hotter. He could see the face of the Justicar, it was clearer than before. No hair except for the eyebrows, long thin nose and dark almost black pupils that glowed in the light.
“I come for you, I will hunt you down and destroy you. You may have gotten away but the gods demand abominations be cleaved from this world.”
Edin tried to move, first a hand, then a foot. He was free. The Justicar’s mouth opened as he stared at Edin. Another step and Edin raised a hand summoning the energy around him, calling it in from the world, he saw small bits of white come toward him from everywhere. The energy, the power coursed through his veins like a shot of adrenaline.
