Lady of Poison

by Bruce R Cordell

  A sickening realization occurred to Marrec. He said, “Gunggari … I think this is the village of Fullpoint!”

  With that, he leaped down the other side of the hill, pulling his spear from where he kept it strapped to his back. Called Justlance, the spear tip was fashioned of gleaming adamantine in the shape of a regal unicorn horn. It was possessed of a potent enchantment that Marrec’s past enemies had learned to fear, if they survived their initial meeting.

  Gunggari followed Marrec but first raised one end of the long warclub to his lips. He blew down the hollow tube carved through the bole. A noise blazed forth. The sound, like a huge animal roaring or screaming—Marrec could never be sure—froze the volodnis and villagers alike with its hackle-raising ululation.

  Marrec used the moment of distraction to run right up to one of the startled outlying attackers. The blighted thing had been in the middle of throttling a young farmer. Barely pausing in his dash toward the center of town, the unicorn warrior swept the tip of his spear across the volodni’s neck. With a gurgling cry of pain, the creature flopped to the ground, oozing a combination of clear sap and black rot. Its former captive jumped back, gasping for breath, but Marrec was already running toward a larger concentration of attackers.

  Gunggari was right on Marrec’s heels. The tattooed soldier was far quicker than Marrec, especially without armor weighing him down, which proved lucky. A blighted volodni Marrec hadn’t noticed jumped him from behind. Gunggari’s warclub crunched against the creature’s head, and the beast bleated and fell away from Marrec before it could do much more than scratch at his armor. Marrec darted a glance backward and saw that Gunggari had engaged the creature. He knew it’d take but seconds for Gunggari to dispatch an average foe. For all Marrec’s physical prowess, he knew that the tattooed soldier was his better in straight-up combat, but not by much.

  The other attackers began to respond to Marrec and Gunggari’s advance. Marrec could hear them calling to one another, warning of the counterattack. Their speech had the sound of pine-needles rubbing together in a strong wind. Ahead, the creatures began to mass. Other outlying attackers began to fade back into the trees.

  It was difficult to estimate how many rot fiends had to be dealt with. Marrec spied more of the creatures running off into the trees that lined the town to the northwest. Good, the fewer he had to deal with the better. Unfortunately, a few braver creatures ahead were obviously prepared to receive their charge. Better take it slow.

  “How many, do you think?” asked Marrec, pausing his headlong rush.

  “More than ten, less than twenty,” responded Gunggari, as he came up alongside.

  “Like those odds?”

  “I’ve faced worse.”

  “Then let’s show these failed trees their mistake,” exclaimed Marrec. “I’ll take the right flank. You got left?” Gunggari nodded.

  They charged. Marrec peeled off to the right, Gunggari left. The volodnis’ force split roughly down the middle, but those making up Marrec’s half failed to turn quickly enough to defend against his initial spear thrust. The spiral spear-head began to glow white, a light akin to the moon’s glow, though it wasn’t too distinct in day’s full light. The first one went down with a spear thrust to the eye. Black rot spewed but failed to adhere to Justlance, just one of the advantages of a weapon blessed by a deity.

  Two other creatures rushed forward where their brother had fallen. One attempted to duck under the shaft while the other offered a distraction. Marrec had been a spear fighter long enough to know that the first rule of the spear is to never allow an enemy to get under the range of the shaft. He backed up a step and choked up his grip. A slash across the creature’s exposed stomach ended its days. The other used that second to launch itself, but Marrec knew what he was doing. Without changing his grip, he swung the butt-end of the shaft around in a violent figure eight, catching the monster on the temple. The beast was stunned just long enough for another thrust. Another rot fiend down.

  Something banged against his left shoulder hard enough to spin him half around. Another blighted volodni, a thick cudgel in hand, had appeared from the rear, landing a solid blow. Pain arced from his shoulder a second later, but it wasn’t fast enough to stop him from downing the author of his discomfort with an expert thrust of Justlance.

  Only four more were facing in his direction. He’d thinned them enough to tell that much. Behind them, a furious churning of limbs, clubs, and shouts showed that the tattooed soldier was still on his feet. Marrec had expected nothing less, but it wasn’t the time to get cocky.

  The villagers who’d borne the brunt of the attack were taking advantage of Marrec and Gunggari’s advent to pull back from the conflict. Some had pails and were shouting about the fire. Good. If they were quick enough, only a few outbuildings would burn.

  “Marrec!”

  The unicorn warrior’s gaze snapped back to the fight. Apparently their foes had decided that splitting themselves between Marrec and Gunggari was a poor choice. They’d rectified it by concentrating all their attacks on Gunggari. The Oslander was pressed up against the wooden palisade, keeping his attackers at bay with crushing swings of his dizheri. Even as he watched, Gunggari batted one of the creatures back so hard that it actually flew several feet through the air before tumbling into a dead, oozing heap. The smell of putrid rot intensified. Another scored a hit with its cudgel, causing the Oslander to stumble.

  Time to bring to bear another facet of Lurue’s power. While he reveled in his martial skill, the divine power Lurue granted her servants was just as potent, or it had been, before the change. These days, each spell was hard won, and Marrec used them sparingly. Each one he used was a precious gift, that seemingly could no longer be replaced.

  Taking one hand from Justlance’s shaft, he began to inscribe a Sign of Capitulation in the air with one finger, drawing lines of burning fire with quick strokes. Before he could properly finish, a volodni menacing Gunggari glanced back, squealed, and tried to stick a sword in Marrec’s belly.

  Marrec had to abandon the spell before finishing the air rune.

  “Curse you!” exclaimed Marrec, fumbling backward. That spell was hard won, and he wondered if he would be able to renew it or another of its potency with things being what they were. To see the spell wasted without effect made the unicorn warrior see red. “Rot take you!”

  The blighted volodni followed up on its success by pressing its attacks with a series of wild swings, some of which landed. None pierced Marrec’s silver mail, but each would leave a painful bruise.

  “Think you’ve got me?” Marrec asked his attacker. Taking up Justlance in both hands, he knocked aside his attacker’s blade, then completed the motion by driving the shaft a foot into the creature’s breast. “Turns out, you’re wrong.”

  In the meantime, Gunggari had eradicated a few more attackers. As Marrec moved in once more to help the Oslander, the remaining creatures broke off and fled toward the trees. Marrec launched his spear at the hindmost rot fiend. The shaft arrowed through the air and struck a volodni’s retreating form at a distance of thirty feet. The force of the cast knocked the creature to the ground, pinning the beast where it lay. The volodni moved no more, though it commenced leaking a tainted fluid.

  “You like risks,” commented Gunggari, as the Oslander began to stoically clean the sides of his musical instrument-cum-warclub. “What if your throw had merely lodged in the rotting one? He could have retreated with your weapon.”

  “The shot was clear; I knew I wouldn’t miss. Besides, perhaps, even after all this time, you don’t know all Justlance’s abilities.”

  Gunggari raised one eyebrow. Marrec just smiled without elaborating. He was naturally lighthearted and preferred to focus on the positive, though internally he still cursed the loss of the Sign of Capitulation. He quickly paced the distance to where his spear still stood quivering in the form of the blighted volodni. The stink was unpleasant. Pulling the shaft free released an even stronger whiff of corr
uption which pushed Marrec back.

  “Phew! These things aren’t undead, but they are almost as rot-infested as an animated corpse.”

  “If not undead, then what? I assumed they were the work of necromancy,” called Gunggari from where he stood, still cleaning his dizheri. Because it was his sole possession, the tattooed solider was never lax in the instrument’s care.

  “Don’t know. Something bad, though,” Lurue’s cleric offered, grinning at his own understatement.

  A few villagers, having saved what buildings they could from the fire, eyed Gunggari. It was obvious they didn’t quite know what to make of the southerner. The Oslander pretended not to notice the looks as he finalized the process of returning the dizheri to an unblemished state.

  Marrec walked toward two who seemed to have led the fire-extinguishing initiative, an older man and a stern, dark haired woman. As he walked up, the woman eyed him.

  She said, “You have the thanks of Fullpoint, but if you’re looking for a reward, I’m afraid the town’s treasury was used earlier this spring to buy seed.”

  Marrec shook his head, “Nope. It was a deed done for pure purposes, and with the blessing of Lurue, the queen of goodly peoples and beasts everywhere. My name is Marrec, and I am Lurue’s servant. My friend’s name is Gunggari Ulmarra, and he is a traveler from far lands but a good soul.”

  “I’m Tansia; this is Korven,” the woman said, pointing to the older man. “You have our thanks. Though we can’t pay you in coin, we can put you up and feed you and your companion for as long as you wish to stay in Fullpoint.”

  “Very kind, Tansia, but perhaps you can answer me a question: I seek one named Hemish, Hemish of Fullpoint. Do you know this man?” Hope pitched Marrec’s voice slightly higher than his normally smooth baritone.

  The woman nodded, looking bemused, “Hemish? Of course. He keeps cattle. He lives just east of here on the town’s edge. I can take you there.”

  “Please, lead on.”

  As they walked, leading a procession of the curious, Tansia asked, “Pardon my curiosity, Marrec, but what brings you to Fullpoint after Hemish? He is a simple man, and he and his daughter keep pretty much to themselves.”

  Marrec said simply, “He was revealed to me in a vision.”

  Tansia nodded uncertainly but said nothing more. In short order, she led him up to a home little different than many of the other village buildings. It, too, showed signs of the recent conflict. Marrec decided he didn’t like the look of the bashed and ruined door, which hung off its hinges. He rushed up the two steps and looked inside. He had Justlance ready in case of lingering rot fiends.

  An older man lay on the floor, bleeding, but alive, and conscious. His wild eyes met Marrec’s. His mouth moved, as he tried to get something out.

  Marrec kneeled to tend the fallen man. “If you’re Hemish, I’ve come a long way seeking you. I’ll heal your wounds, don’t worry.”

  Still the man, his white hair in disarray and eyes wild, tried to speak.

  “What is it? What are you trying to tell me?” wondered Marrec.

  Finally, Hemish spoke.

  “They’ve taken her!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Hemish’s pronouncement was unlikely to bode anything but poorly for Marrec’s quest, but first things first. Marrec probed the man’s wounds with an experienced hand. The worst was a head wound. The cleric would be able to dress the other gashes and scrapes with gauze and salve he kept for mundane hurts, but the head wound would turn ugly if left untended by anything less than divine cleansing. Marrec sighed. His resolution to conserve his divine spells in case he completely lost contact with Lurue was being tested. There was Hemish, whom he had sought on the goddess’ inspiration. He was there because of a divine vision.

  He laid a hand upon the fallen man’s brow and whispered the words of power given him. The head wound ceased seeping blood as the puncture closed over as if it had never been. As the pain faded, Hemish blinked in surprise, but his mouth began to work, as if newfound health was the fuel he needed to launch into a yelling fit.

  Marrec cut off Hemish before he could begin, “There. The pain should fade,” said Marrec.

  He helped the man to his feet. Hemish grew somewhat less wild about the eyes but remained quite agitated.

  The man finally managed to yell, “Did you see her? My daughter? One of those tree men ran off with Ash!”

  Daughter? Apprehension sent goose bumps stippling down Marrec’s arms. Was this missing girl the Child of Light, stolen from him just as he was about to find her?

  Hemish made as if to rush outside, but a pain more spiritual than physical seemed to unsteady the man. He began to pitch forward as if in a faint. Marrec reached out a hand to steady him.

  “Easy. Rest a moment. We’ll get her back,” promised Marrec, as he righted a chair and helped Hemish to the seat. “Wait here.”

  Marrec ducked his head out the door. He located the tattooed soldier who waited outside, who was fending off the thanks of grateful villagers.

  “Gunggari—there’s been a kidnapping—a child was taken from Hemish. I think … it might be the child we’re seeking, but I don’t know for certain. I need to speak further with this man. Can you get a bead on the kidnappers, quick?”

  The Oslander nodded. Without a word he traced a path of footprints from the door of the home, slinking toward the trees where the volodnis had retreated, stepping quietly but moving with some speed. Experience with his friend’s abilities told Marrec that Gunggari could track most anything, but he would wait for Marrec’s help before launching any sort of counterattack or rescue. Marrec ducked back into the house.

  The older man looked into Marrec’s eyes and said, “Thank you. Why are you helping me? I don’t even know you. My name is Hemish.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m Marrec, but that’s not important right now. I have a pressing question for you, one I have traveled leagues to ask.” Marrec paused for a breath. “Hemish, have you ever seen or heard of somebody or something called the ‘Child of Light?’”

  Thought creased Hemish’s brow. He said, “Well, can’t say that I have. Has it got anything to do with Ash?”

  Intuition tickled Marrec, growing stronger. It was exactly the sort of feeling he had learned to trust as subtle guidance from the higher world. Marrec said, “Hemish, I believe that your daughter, Ash, is the Child of Light I seek, the child whom I’ve been seeking these long months.”

  Hemish looked at Marrec, nonplussed, and said, “Why? What’s this business with ‘light’ and seeking? Ash hasn’t done anything. She’s normal, if a little slow in the head.”

  Marrec laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and replied, “I assure you, I come with no sinister intent, exactly the opposite. The Child of Light is important to the goddess Lurue, also called the Wild Mother and Healing Hand. I am her servant, and on her behalf, I’ve sought the Child of Light. If Ash and the Child of Light are one and the same, this can only be a joyous occasion.”

  “Joyous—what are you talking about? She’s been kidnapped, I told you.”

  “I’ve never known Gunggari to fail. He’ll find her. Meantime, I ask you, please tell me more of your daughter, Ash.”

  Hemish continued to think, looking up at Marrec, then fingering the wound Marrec had healed. It didn’t take him long to reach a decision. More calmly than before, he said, “It doesn’t surprise me that someone has finally come asking about her, actually. She is different, despite what I just said. She is special. I count myself the luckiest man alive that it was I who found her lying so helpless in the trees almost five years now gone past.”

  Marrec’s pulse raised in tempo, “She’s not your natural born child?”

  “No. She’s a foundling, but just as precious despite that.”

  A foundling … Marrec, too, had been raised by those who were not his real parents, he, too, having being found out alone in the elements by kindly people. Could there be some sort of connection? Marrec’s fingers brushed at
the scars hidden by his hairline, wondering.

  “Does she … does she have a way about her eyes … or something not quite right about her hair?” asked Marrec, with a tentative note in his voice.

  “Uhm, no. The strange thing is, she can speak. Well, speak enough to say a single word, even from the day I found her. Ash’ is the word she says, and it’s what I call her. That, and …” Hemish paused, gauging Marrec’s reaction. “That, and her touch is magic. If you’ve taken a hurt or are feeling poorly, Ash’s touch can grant you relief.”

  The healer’s hand. Nothing like his own “condition,” then. Marrec sighed. Still, if she was the Child of Light and somehow connected with the Unicorn Queen, her healing touch wasn’t an ability completely unexpected.

  “A healer. Truly, a gift from Lurue.”

  Hemish said, “She’s my Ash, and she’s been taken by those things. If she’s somehow tied up with you and your god, it’s funny that you show up just now, just as she’s taken away from me. Maybe you drew those creatures here. What if you’re to blame?” His voice cracked from strain and a sudden anger.

  Marrec banished thoughts of his own young memories. First things first. The Child of Light was in immediate danger.

  “Hemish, I’m going to find her. I’m going to save her from those creatures that took her from you, and I’m going to discover just what her connection is to Lurue and the goddess’ growing silence. Right now, I value her safety above that of all others. You’ll know soon enough if I succeed.”

  The unicorn warrior strode from the house. He’d spent enough time gathering information—more could be learned later when he’d secured the child’s safety. Villagers were still gathered outside, talking about the events of the day. They quieted when Marrec exited Hemish’s home. He waved to them as he quickly moved to the edge of the trees where Gunggari had darted into the woods.

  Marrec called back over his shoulder, “I’m going to find Hemish’s girl,” for the benefit of queries he heard in his wake.