Sam and Nalia looked at the scholar and shook their heads.
“Well, then, let me tell you what I have learned. First and easiest, it exists because of trade, as is the case with so many things in this world. The area is a juncture of land routes and water routes. With the mountains to the East and the West, the plains in the Dead Zone are the only suitable roadways for wagons carrying trade goods from the South. Anything coming from or going to the North typically travels by boat or barge, and Patchel’s Folly is where the transition occurs.
“As for the name, well that is a bit more interesting. From scraps of information I have been able to dig up in my years here, I think I have a fairly good idea of the significance of the name. Patchel, it seems, was a man of some responsibility and authority in this area, a governor of sorts. Sources seem to indicate that he commanded the military forces for a radius of almost three hundred miles.
“In those days, the land was heavily populated, such as on our world, Sam. That being the case, I am assuming that Patchel would be in command of upwards of 20,000 standing troops and had responsibility over several million people, with all the civilians included.
“During the height of the war—I am not sure who was fighting whom—Patchel was directed by his king to use a recently developed weapon, but only as a last resort. It was volatile and extremely destructive, but the king trusted Patchel implicitly and gave the weapon over to him. The rest, well, most of what I know is from a song about it, for which there are only partial lyrics. The part I found goes like this:
From the east the fire’s glare
Shining bright along the stair
The king to kill, to break the pact
And seize from them the fertile tract
No one in the west to spare
Then the spy did infiltrate
Guard and shield had come too late
His lady wife the knife did slice
And turning Patchel’s heart to ice
Bloody pact to consecrate
Mad with grief and reason fled
Patchel to his gen’ral said
Now is time to fire the volley
Thus was rained down Patchel’s folly
Leaving nothing but the dead
“So, you see, Patchel’s folly was to use the weapon, not knowing how incredibly powerful it was, or not caring. It seems that through some sort of betrayal, the great leader lost his wife and with it his will to live. I believe the enemy, a power from the East, through treachery, attacked even the king’s high palace. That palace was referred to in other records as ‘the Golden Stair.’ We shall probably never know if he activated the weapon out of revenge, ignorance, or apathy for having lost his reason to live. The second generation of inhabitants of this area, after it was suitable for sustaining life again, named their community in such a way that no one would forget what foolish choices can do. Of course, they were wrong. With more than five hundred years separating us from that time, you and I are probably the only people on this world who know what Patchel’s folly actually was, so the lesson is lost on most.”
Sam wondered at a weapon that could do that much damage. Even nuclear weapons did not have a damage radius as large as the dead zone. He wondered anew at what kind of technology this world had before it had destroyed them. What wonders did this world possess when his world had not yet even had the Industrial Revolution? Five hundred years ago on his world, almost none of the things he knew as modern conveniences existed. It was essentially the same technologically as Gythe was right now.
The three sat silently for a time, thinking their own private thoughts about what happened centuries ago. They decided to rest, none of them feeling up to further conversation. Sam insisted on taking first watch, moving off to perch on a rock outcropping overlooking the area. The other two settled in to sleep, as did the rakkeben.
Is it true? Skitter sent as he climbed up next to him. Are there things in your world that can do such damage?
Not quite so much, but still a great amount. He sent some mental images of nuclear bombs and the effects he had seen in magazines and history books.
Why would anyone want to kill so many? We hapaki have sometimes been forced to kill, when we were acting in self defense or when a predator took residence in our area and threatened the entire community. We could never think to purposely go out and kill others, though.
Sam looked at his friend sadly. Some people kill for power, or for riches, or to take others’ land. I hate it and don’t understand why things are more important than life to some people, but that’s how it is. Your people are definitely superior in this regard, my friend.
Of course we are. I’ve told you that before. You must be a slow learner. His sending was tinged with humor. Would you like me to keep watch with you?
Thank you, but no, Sam sent back. I have some thinking to do. Go ahead and go to sleep. I have a feeling we won’t be getting much of it for a while.
Skitter pawed at Sam’s pantleg for a moment, a sign of camaraderie, and then curled into a ball near Nalia and was soon fast asleep. Sam caught glimpses of the hapaki’s dreams as sendings, dreams of succulent fruit mixed with dreams of giant boulders flattening his entire community. Sam was sad that he had introduced the idea of such atrocities to his friend.
Chapter 47
Several hours after full dark, Sam caught a glimpse of movement on the plains toward Patchel’s Folly. Softening his gaze and projecting his rohw outward, he saw Rindu’s familiar glow of power making his way toward where the others lay sleeping. Hopping off his perch, he rushed toward the Zouy to help with the baggage he was carrying.
Rindu smiled tiredly and allowed Sam to take most of the bundles he had lashed to himself. “There were no troubles, but the town seems to be on high alert. It was the correct choice in not having everyone come with me. They have several garrisons of soldiers waiting…for something. I was able to get enough supplies to last us more than a week. With water so plentiful, I did not need to get that.”
As the Zouy sat down to eat dinner, Nalia woke up, smiled at her father—she was so beautiful that Sam wished she never had to wear the mask again—and went over to the rock perch to take her turn at watch. Sam took the hint and rolled himself into his cloak alongside Skitter and Rindu, and knew nothing until the brightness of dawn woke him.
Soon after that, they divided up all the supplies into the bags on the rakkeben, gave food to the big wolves and Skitter, ate breakfast themselves, and started off. The day promised to be cool and clear, with little wind. A perfect day for travel.
Just after noon, the little party rounded a rock formation and found themselves looking at more than a hundred soldiers, with the woman assassin they had met and a very large man with armor and weapons hanging on what seemed to be every inch of him.
For the briefest of moments, there was no motion, no sound. It seemed as if the land itself, and even the weak breeze that had been blowing just a moment before, all stopped, holding their breath. Then, chaos erupted.
Rindu leapt off his rakkeban, tackling Dr. Walt off of his mount. Sam jumped off Shonyb at the same time Nalia dismounted. They all dove behind the rocks they had just rounded, arrows pinging all around them. The rakkeben, Sam noted, had rolled to the side and were taking cover behind the rocks as well.
“Stop firing!” the big man yelled. “We must take the old one alive. If you kill him on accident, I will skin you alive. Now, move in!”
Sam had been training for months, a novice no longer, and it showed. As the men swarmed around them, they were unable to touch him, let alone strike him. Dodging effortlessly, hearing only the vibratory song of battle, he worked his way mercilessly through them, his separated staff striking out and breaking weapons and bones.
Skitter, mumbling into Sam’s mind, was retreating into a secure crevice in between some rocks, taking himself out of danger. The rakkeben joined the fray, bowling over some of the attackers and latching their massive jaws on others.
Spa
ring just a moment to look toward the other humans, he saw Nalia and Rindu fighting off attackers, trying to protect Dr. Walt, who was backed against a rock, trying to stay out of the way. He caught Nalia’s glance at him and nodded slightly to her as he moved to the side as a charging man tried to skewer him with a spear.
Attention back on the business at hand, he moved fluidly from the two attacks being directed at him. One was a sword and the other some sort of chain weapon. He moved left, feinted with one stick toward Chain Man and blocked a sweeping sword strike from the other. Kicking out his right leg directly behind him, he felt the ribs of a rushing attacker crack with the force. Somehow, he knew the man would be at that precise location even before the man himself knew.
Sam marveled at how his intuitive battle sense had become more developed. The training he had been receiving these past months was really shining through. Even though he was better equipped for fighting, however, he recognized that these soldiers were not the same as he had fought before. These were better. Much better. They were obviously the more highly-trained and specialized troops in the Gray Man’s army.
In fact, he was having trouble keeping up with them now that they were organizing their attacks, even being in harmony with the song of battle. These soldiers worked together flawlessly, rather than all of them attacking individually. One mistake could be fatal with these foes. He forced the thought from his mind, trying to clear it to bring himself more into harmony with the battle’s vibrations. He breathed rhythmically as five attackers moved in on him simultaneously.
Nalia saw Sam’s nod just as she spun to open the belly of a woman who was attacking her with double long knives. Stepping clear of the writhing body as it fell, she wondered if this battle would be too much for Sam. She wanted to go to him, fight alongside him and make sure he remained safe, but she was needed to protect Dr. Walt. Sam had progressed well in his training and was performing admirably. Dr. Walt was defenseless. She and her father must remain with him.
The conflict tugged at the edges of her mind. She had never felt for anyone as she felt for Sam. Though her duty was clear, she still wanted to go to him. She did not know what she would do if she lost him.
Distracted by her thoughts, she barely dodged a shadow seen in her peripheral vision. After passing her head, she saw that it was a hardwood stick a foot or so long attached to a long staff by a chain. Spinning as she parried a sword slash from her left, she continued the spin striking the arm holding the staff with a vicious downward diagonal blow. The force of the strike, amplified by the spin, separated the upper from lower arm at the elbow. The assailant screamed as the chain staff spun uselessly from his now shortened arm. Nalia tried to clear her head of worry for Sam and she set about her task of cutting through the rabble, shrapezi flashing in the afternoon sun.
Rindu’s mouth turned downward into a worried frown. As he fought off the attackers, snapping the arm of one attacking him with a sword so viciously that bone poked through the skin, he noticed what was happening in other parts of the battlefield. Snatching the steel sword—that was a fortuitous find, much better for his purposes than a ceramic blade— from the broken arm, he carved a path through the attackers as he thought. He had seen the silent interchange between his daughter and Sam. He had seen also the way they both seemed distracted. It was obvious that they were worried about each other. In a battle such as this, distraction could be fatal.
Sam was doing well, better than could reasonably be expected with only a few months of training. He was naturally gifted with using rohw and he was also a very good student of physical combat, but he had so little training. These soldiers were the elite forces of the Gray Man’s army. They did not fight as most men. Most combatants were over-confident when they so severely outnumbered their opponent. Not only that, but most often, even competent soldiers resorted to fighting individually when attacking outnumbered foes.
These men were used to fighting together. One or two would attack in a certain way to position their opponent for a killing blow from others. They were devious and skilled, and the groups acted almost as a single man. One could not be distracted or make a mistake with soldiers like these.
Normally, he would not worry about Nalia, her fighting skills being supreme, but her mind was not entirely on the battle. She seemed conflicted, wanting to help Sam but knowing they had to protect Dr. Walt, who was defenseless. The leader, that big warrior, had yelled that they were to capture the doctor, unharmed if possible. No, they had to protect Dr. Walt.
He looked once again at Sam and Nalia and, seeing that they were holding their own for now, set about his work. Using his stolen sword, a curved wide blade that whirled in his hand, he spun, deflected, and dealt death to any who came close to him. The numbers of men seemed endless, but they could not be. All they needed to do was to survive long enough to kill all of them. That would not be so hard, would it?
Nalia watched Sam whenever she could spare a glance in his direction. Parry, block, hook, slice, stab, look toward Sam. Dodge, weave, deflect, slash, kick, look to him again. The worry seemed to sap her energy, but she fought on, always keeping Dr. Walt within a few feet, dancing in and out of battle but keeping all enemies on her side and away from him, as her father was doing.
She watched with horror as five attackers came in toward Sam at once. These men fought too well together. Five at a time would be too much for him. She stopped, turning her head toward him to yell a warning, “Sam, behind!” and it was then that her foot slipped in a puddle of blood that had formed on the rocky surface below her.
The slip almost cost her life. Her right foot slipped backward and she began to fall forward, right into the path of a wicked looking polearm blade sweeping toward her. Shifting her body’s trajectory to fall more quickly, she virtually dove at the ground, twisting at the last moment so that the sweeping blade missed her head by a hair’s breadth. So close did it cut that it sliced her mask and, she thought, probably cut off some of her hair.
Continuing with the roll, she thrust her left hand to the ground, pushed up while flexing her back, and flipped around in a butterfly kick that smashed the jaw of the polearm wielder. As she landed, she whipped both swords out and cleanly removed the assailant’s head before blocking strikes from two other attackers that had moved in. One block cut half way through the thick cudgel that was coming in toward her skull and the other sword block shattered the ceramic sword coming for her midsection, spraying hardened ceramic glass shards everywhere.
She regained her harmony with the battle song and continued fighting, glancing at Dr. Walt to be sure he was still unharmed and at Sam, who was still fighting. He had reduced the five to two, but others were rushing in. So far, however, he had survived.
Sam heard Nalia scream something at him but he couldn’t make out what it was through the rush of blood in his ears. His intuition told him that five attackers were surrounding him and moving in as one. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, he centered himself and felt the vibration of the battle magnify.
Two men and a woman were visible in front of him. They wielded double sticks, a serrated bronze long sword, and weapons that looked surprisingly like nunchakus—two sticks, each a foot long and joined by a chain—though it was hard to tell with how fast they were moving. He felt that the man and the woman behind him had some type of hooked pole and a broad sword.
Time slowed down as the picture of what was just about to happen came clearly into Sam’s mind. As the hooked pole came from behind to snag his right shoulder, he twisted toward it while bringing his stick up in a short arc, tapping the shaft just below the hook, deflecting it outward just enough so that it intruded into the path of the nunchaku that was aiming for Sam’s head.
He moved his head just out of range of a sword slash from directly in front of him, batting aside one stick coming toward his face from the left and lifting his left leg up out of the way of the other stick rushing toward his knee. Time wound down and then stopped completely. A dist
ant thought of how he must look at the moment flashed into his head. Standing on one leg, the other cocked up and out of the way, both sticks parrying and at the ready, head tilted back just enough to avoid the sword’s tip by the merest distance, he must be the perfect picture of competency. Either that, or he looked like a man foolishly flailing about trying to keep from being killed. He wasn’t sure which was true.
Not even having time to think of the sword thrust from behind that was aimed at his vulnerable lower back, time sped back into motion and his body uncoiled. The left leg snapped out, striking the stick wielder’s arm at the elbow with a satisfying crunch and continuing on into an arcing kick with the instep of his foot to the hand holding the sword in front of him, pushing it away from him. At the same time, his body twisted to the right, along with the motion of the kick, allowing the sword thrust from behind to punch through his clothes but not his skin as he whipped the stick in his left hand out and crushed the throat of the nunchaku wielding man and poked the right stick violently into the face of the woman holding the hooked pole, shattering her nose and spraying blood that seemed to hang in the air as perfect red droplets as she fell backward.
Transforming his motion into a downward cross block, trapping the sword that had now torn free of his clothes, he completed a full counter-clockwise rotation while pushing the sword out of the way and ended in a spin kick with his back foot that lifted the swordsman off his feet and crushed several ribs.
Finishing off the remaining two assailants proved to be little trouble compared to what he had just been through. Only the swordswoman in front of him and the stick wielder remained, the latter having only one serviceable arm. A quick feint to one, followed by a knee-crushing strike and then a vicious overhand strike ended the sword wielder and a straight thrust with a stick, projecting rohw through it caused the chest of the stick wielder to cave in and the heart explode, killing him instantly.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 32
