by Billy Wong
Eventually there was a screech like of a massive hunting bird above, and the horses halted to rear and whinny in fear. Marcus' eyes bulged with delight. "Yes, at last! He comes to save me."
Mark frowned. "He who? Helrish?"
"I do not think Helrish sounds like a bird," Kyle said.
The horses took off like shot deer, dragging the wagon along so that its occupants struggled to hold their seats as it bounced and heaved. All of a sudden it slowed sharply. Mark saw ebony claws puncture the wagon's sides high up. With a loud cracking and tearing, the vehicle's entire upper section tore away.
Revealed flying above it was an enormous owl-shaped black mass with a face more like that of a feral cat than any bird. A strong burnt smell hovered inexplicably about its body.
"I'm here!" Marcus yelled. "Free me!"
Kyle slugged him with his hilt, knocking him out cold. Good idea, lest he attempt to make trouble himself.
The horses continued trying to run in panicked neighing, only for the monster to swoop down and rip one of them apart with a squeeze of its talons. Without its partner, the other could not pull the wagon with any speed, but began to turn it uselessly towards one side. The creature descended again, snatching the horse up and jerking the wagon up on its back end for a moment before tearing the steed in half and dropping its gory remains in a shower of blood.
Gerrard hurled his spear at the bird-thing's backside. It hit with a thwack, followed by a low, mournful cry. The monster swung around and opened its mouth, from which issued a long stream of brown gas. Gerrard dove aside as it hit the front of the wagon, which hissed and started to melt.
Kyle shot it with his bow, but though the arrow embedded in its chest it showed no reaction. It was just too big for most ranged weapons to do much. Mark raised his crossbow and aimed at its face before watching it stall in midair; for what purpose he did not know, but he leapt off the wagon anyway. His evasive instincts proved correct, for moments later a rain of bladelike feathers were thunking into the wood of the wagon.
Mark's friends had evacuated the vehicle as well, though Kyle had not been quite quick enough and a feather the size of a dagger now stuck through his lower leg. Grimacing, he dragged himself towards the back of the wagon for cover. The unconscious Marcus lay where he had fallen, somehow having not been hit.
Ann was nowhere to be seen.
"Princess?" Kyle shouted, pulling himself up to survey the area. "Princess, where are you?"
The bird-thing flew low, smashing down at the knight with a huge wing. He rolled away while it crushed the wagon's rear into the dirt. Gerrard jumped in and thrust a long knife at its wing, probably to try and cut a rent in it, but the blade got caught up in its metal-hard feathers and torn from his hand.
"Damn!" he said. "It has more weapons than me!"
It banked, turned again and glided in. Mark shot at it, missed as it made a sudden dip. It screamed, and its jaws gaped to unleash that corrosive breath. He shrank back in fear.
Something comparatively small and shiny shot in from the right, slamming into the bird-thing's flank. It gave a ear-rending shriek of rage and pain, barrel rolled in flight. The shiny thing clung to its side, seemed to rear back and thrust forward again. Stabbing it? Dripping a thick black ichor or sludge, the bird thrashed and flailed in the air. Seeing it vulnerable, Mark unloaded a crossbow bolt into its face. It stilled, and plummeted lifelessly atop its shiny attacker to the ground.
It had all ended so fast, Mark was baffled what had occurred. Some entity had attacked their foe, but its nature he did not know until the bird-thing's corpse melted away to sludge and a small figure sat up out of the puddle.
"Ann?!" Mark asked incredulously. "How did you get up there? Do your magical abilities allow you to fly now?"
She chuckled. "Fly, no. But I found a nice small tree to use as a catapult." Her hands bore deep cuts from the feathers of the monster she had killed. "Forgive me now?"
Mark started to say yes, but before he could Ann collapsed back into the muck. "Ann!" he cried, cradling her in his arms with no regard for cleanliness. "How are you?"
"Fine, of course. Now, how about that answer?"
Marcus woke, grimacing in pain from his clubbed head. He stared at the black puddle where Mark and Ann embraced for a moment before taking in what had happened. "You killed it? No, how could you..."
"We're heroes," Ann said with a grin. "Mark here's life is the stuff of legend, and at his side mine should be too. Any questions?"
He glared at her like to say, you idiot. Then defeat showed in his eyes and his gaze fell, and he spoke not another word.
Mark pulled Ann close to himself and kissed her slimy head. "You're so cute. And I forgive you."
#
Gerrard stole them a new wagon from a farm nearby, and they resumed traveling the way they had been. Ann was fairly out of it now, asleep most of the time as the fight with the bird along with her wounds had exhausted her.
"What's the matter?" Kyle asked Mark while he watched the slumbering Ann with a glum expression. "You needn't worry too much about her. Her life is extremely stubborn, as we both know."
Mark hesitated. "It's not that. I've been thinking about us. She tells me not to worry about it, but she's a princess and I'm far from a prince. Will we really be all right together?"
"She was right in telling you not to worry about it. I have spoken to her father on this, and while I had not been so approving at the time he seemed to see potential in you. I am sure he would give you more than a reasonable chance at proving yourself worthy of her."
He had already done much to prove to himself that he was a man, but knew different challenges would await him in the realm of courtship. Even so, Ann was probably easier to deal with in some ways than most girls.
"So if I do get to stay together with Ann, does that mean we'll be seeing a lot more of each other?"
"Yes, I would think so. In spite of any improvements you have made as a warrior, I doubt I would stop being her bodyguard. Why do you ask? Are you tired of my company yet?"
"No, no!" Indeed, Kyle's inconspicuous company was quite tolerable. "It's just that even after all this time together, we haven't really talked that much, and I was wondering what you thought..."
"About being with you? I don't mind." He did not smile, but his eyes made Mark think he wanted to. "You are a rather untroublesome young man. Having you along is certainly no worse than Ann alone."
#
Though his romantic concerns were alleviated for the moment, more immediate fears shortly replaced them. Owen had gotten worse, skin hot and clammy with sweat, and no longer responded at all to attempts to rouse him. Kyle expressed worry that something was seriously wrong inside his abdomen.
Mark wanted to get him help, but where? Despite knowing some small-town doctors must be skilled, he hesitated to entrust his father's life to someone whose abilities were not backed up with widespread repute. Yet would he have a choice, if he did not want to just stand by and watch Owen fade away?
If he died, Marcus would likely follow. Mark had forgiven Ann, but not the one who truly bore the blame for his father's condition.
"We should stop by Kulten," he said in discussion with his friends. "Even if conventional medicine proves of little use"—as he feared it would—"that old crone who helped Ann might know of something that can be done."
The others readily agreed, knowing the Duke of Kulten stood with them, and upon reaching the city they entered the gates. "What happened to him?" the Duke asked when they found him. "Did he take that wound in Arrith?"
"Yes," Mark said. "Can you refresh us on where the old healer you introduced us to before lives? We were hoping to use her help."
He told them, and they headed for her cabin. The rotten food stench smelled as strong as ever from outside, but they ignored it in light of more important things. The crone opened the door, nibbling on a blackened apple.
"You're back! Are you here for my newest dance? Oh, I see. You ha
ve another gravely wounded."
They brought Owen inside and laid him on the stone table, where the crone calmly examined him. "Oh, this is bad. Assuming standard treatment techniques, he will not last the week."
Mark swallowed. Ann did use a very big sword. "We'd been afraid of that. But what about nonstandard techniques? That's why we came to you; don't you have any magic that could save him?"
"My magic is relatively limited. I have no ability to cure a gut wound." Mark hung his head. "But there is one way he might be saved."
"How?"
"Your princess friend's blood is ripe with the power to heal. I am sure enough of it could preserve your father's life, the only question is how much."
"That's no problem," Ann said. She sounded quite eager to correct her previous mistake. "I'll do whatever it takes to save Mark's dad." She made in a hurry towards Owen's side, then stumbled clutching at her chest.
The old woman looked Ann over where she stood. "There is a problem," she said, shaking her head. "You're in bad shape yourself, and don't have much blood left. You could die if you try to do this now."
Mark touched Ann's hand, and she squeezed his back in response. "You don't have to do this. I don't want you to risk your life."
"Yeah? What, are you willing to watch your father die instead?"
"There must be another way. Maybe some skilled doctor can patch him up, or we could find a stronger mage."
She frowned. "He's probably too messed up inside for a doctor to have much hope, and we can hardly count on finding another mage in time. No, we'll have to settle for trying this."
"But you could die."
"I won't die," she said with a smirk. "What, think I'd withstand all that punishment just to drop dead healing someone?" But he met her eyes, and realized her confidence was at least partly feigned.
Nonetheless, he could not stop her from gambling with her life. The crone guided her to stand by Owen's side, and stuck into her arm some kind of needle attached to a tube. The needle on the other end, she put into Owen's arm. Mark hoped the inside of this tube was actually clean...
The tube turned dark red as Ann's blood filled it, and he saw her place a hand on the edge of Owen's table for support. She should be sitting, Mark thought, but she was too tough to have thought of that.
He went to her side and offered his shoulder for her to lean against. Accepting his aid, she smiled. They watched together, she clearly weakening, while her blood continued to drain away. Meanwhile the old woman kept a palm on Owen's chest, presumably to monitor his changing status.
Just when she was beginning to sag heavily against him, and he grew terrified for her life, the crone removed her hand from Owen's body and nodded. Mark sighed with relief as she plucked the needle from Ann's arm and bound her wound with a thin cloth strip.
"How do you feel, Princess?" Kyle asked.
"Fantastic. How's he?"
The crone took on a satisfied look. "His life should not be in danger anymore, provided you keep him out of further peril. He may not wake for some time, for his body is still weak, but you can be assured he is recovering."
"So does that mean he'll become another me," Ann asked, "with my blood inside him?"
"No, he will not gain abilities to the extent of yours. His blood is still strongest within him. Although, he might be somewhat healthier for a while."
Mark hugged Ann. "It's finally over."
She gave him a wry look. "Over? Are you sure about that? I think we'd better start moving now, before something else happens or Marcus escapes again!"
#
"So how's your dad?" Ann asked when Mark came out of Owen's room. They had made it back to Julpy, where upon meeting them Clint had taken the prisoner off their hands. Mark was glad. Holding Marcus, even wounded as he was, always worried him.
"He's doing better," he replied. Owen had finally awoke, readily willing to forgive Ann after he heard how she has risked her life to heal him. "Your huge sword made a huge wound, but good thing your blood does its job well too."
"Sorry again about stabbing him. I didn't know what else to do. If I had waited for you to decide how to act, we might all be dead now."
He touched her chest. Her wound had improved, though she still could not heal it completely with her will. Time would finish that task. "I know. You were right about him not wanting to kill my father, and I can understand you doing what you did."
"Your brother found evidence, you know. I couldn't follow some of his legal reasoning, but it seems likely we'll be able to have Marcus' head rolling off the chopping block."
Lucky for them, that the random documents they had grabbed turned out to include relevant information. "What about his father—I mean, the Duke? Was he actually involved?"
"He knew of his son's plot, and must have lent him resources to enact it, but I suspect Marcus was the mastermind behind it all." She paused. "So, what do you plan on doing after this?"
"I'm not sure. I should continue looking for Brianna, but it's so hard! She moves so much... I doubt she's in Arrith anymore."
"We can find her again. It's your mom; I'd travel to the ends of the world to find mine, if I could. Hopefully, we won't encounter as much trouble on the way this time around."
The Moonfangs, the Ironhoofs' plant monster, Garrick and the Dark Soul, and of course the two Dukes of Arrith and all their cohorts. "Probably not." Mark shrugged. "Our luck'd have to be accursed if we do."
"So when do we start out?"
"Start out? Shouldn't we get things wrapped up neatly with Marcus first?"
"As he said, Clint can do that. You have to worry about finding your mother before she disappears."
He supposed that if he wanted to find Brianna, he probably should give it his all until he did. Because Marcus' trial would not likely take place for a good while, he did have some time to spare. "All right. Let's find Kyle and ask around for information."
#
They found the knight with Gerrard at the manor's bar, still with them after seeing Mark home. Mark wondered if his wife had given him permission. Despite their differing personalities he and Kyle had become fast friends, happy to share a drink or tale of war.
"Hey Kyle," Ann asked, "want to help us find Brianna? Me and Mark are itching to go after her again, and we could use a helping hand."
"Brianna?" Gerrard's brows rose. "I don't know if it's true, but I was shopping around for food and heard Brianna's here in town. Might not have to go anywhere at all, if she's looking for you."
Mark looked at Ann. "Not too shocking," she said. "If she finished doing whatever she was doing in Arrith, it stands to reason she'd come back here for you."
"Come here, with my father still recovering? Perhaps it's for the best, if it'll keep them from being too riled up at each other."
Hurried footsteps sounded from the stairs and got closer. The housekeeper Peter stepped into view, face flushed with excitement. "Young Master! There's a Lady Brianna here to see you."
Brianna, here already? The moment had come both much sooner and much later than he had thought. He still did not know how he would greet her, but was just grateful he had lived to see this day. "I'll be right there."
Mark ran upstairs, almost leaving Ann in his dust, and into the waiting room. Seated upon the comfortably broken in red couch, dressed in her usual blue surcoat over chain, was Brianna.
Her middle-aged face was well lined and scarred, yet beautiful to him. In her visage lay the strength of one who had walked through many hells, but still chased a brighter future on her own two feet. He tried to think what to say, but words eluded him.
"You're my mother," he finally breathed.
Brianna smiled warmly, her worn features seeming to regain a decade of youth when she did. "I know. I've heard a lot about you. So you're my brave boy, who saved at least three lands from their woes."
"Sort of, but I had lots of help. Meet Ann, the princess I love, and that behind her is her bodyguard Kyle."
"Yep,
Mark here is my boy! Anybody who wants to mess with him, has to get through me."
"At your service."
"You must have really missed me," Mark said. "What will we do? I wish we could make up the time we've spent apart, but that doesn't seem possible..."
"Why not? Do you mean to say you can't just give up this false life and come back to me?"
Mark hesitated. He had no wish to abandon the people who'd raised him, but doubted if he could find the will to deny his mother's request. She had already suffered so much, and he was loathe to make her suffer more. "Must I choose between one or the other? This family really is important to me."
Brianna showed no sign of being displeased. "I was just testing you. You stay here with your family, and I'll visit when I can. I've thought about it a lot, and while I did miss you, I've grown used to it. I'm sure your other parents would miss you more if you left them; so, I'll have to make do with what I can."
Surprised by her generosity, Mark gave her a hug. "Stay here. Settle down in Julpy, and we can see each other any time we wish."
"I'm not ready yet to rot away at home like an old lady." Brianna winked. "But I'll consider getting myself a residence here."
"So," Ann butted in, "what do you think of Mark? His life really is the stuff of legend, eh?"
"Ann, you're embarrassing me..."
Brianna chuckled. "Actually, the woman who told me that was a fake."
"What?! What do you mean, a fake?"
"I found out she had no ability as a seer whatsoever, though she liked to claim she did. Apparently, Cedric was right about her making up a story."
"But does that mean I'm really not destined to be anything noteworthy?" With one great adventure behind him, he had actually begun thinking he was.
She gave him an admonishing look. "Well, think about what you've done so far, or for that matter what's become of your naive farmgirl of a mother. One needs no special favor from fate to reach for greatness."
