“The other two came rushing down the stairs, swords in their hands. Seeing their friend with an arrow in his eye, their faces twisted into rage and they yelled, swinging wildly. Once more, Suka, remaining calm in the heart of battle, fired three arrows. The first two, again, maneuvered one of the attackers so that the third struck home, this time directly in the center of his throat. There was only one left, but he was too close for arrows now.
“Suka threw his bow at the man, who dodged it easily but was delayed enough so that Suka could throw four of his knives. This man, learning the lesson from the other two, didn’t dodge in the way Suka had expected. He purposely allowed one of the knives to strike him a glancing blow so that he would not be where the other knives would get him. He was now in range to cut Suka down.
“There was not enough time to draw his sword, so instead Suka drew his two long knives and sliced in one fluid motion. The man parried one with his sword and twisted to evade the other. Then, suddenly, the man’s mouth grew wide in surprise and he dropped his sword. Looking down, he saw the half foot of steel strapped to Suka’s knee, covered in the man’s own blood. The Seven were extraordinary fighters, with strength and speed beyond that of mortal men, but they had the same flaw as most men: they only expected what was normal. Suka had two hands, so the attacker believed he would only have to deal with two weapons. As he slid to the floor, dying, perhaps he realized his error in thinking.
“Suka Templar picked up his bow and rushed upstairs. He did not doubt that the other four knew of the deaths of their companions and would be on their way back. He must finish this before they did.
“When he got to the door he kicked precisely at the weakest point and watched as the wood splintered and fell into the room. There, sitting on a table covered in silk, was a small statue made of crystal. It was in the form of some type of flying snake, with a wise face and long fangs filling its open mouth. It was beautiful and Suka thought for a moment to take it for himself, but he fought the urge to do so. Instead, he picked it up and threw it down to the floor as hard as he could.
“As the statue shattered, a blinding light was released. It dissipated and Suka watched as the shards melted into puddles, then evaporated into smoke and disappeared.
“He was leaving the house when the other four returned. They jumped off their mounts and rushed at him, intent on killing him. Suka calmly let fly with four arrows, faster than the eye could follow, and all four men dropped dead before the door to the mansion. They had not realized that their source of power had been destroyed and that they could not move faster than an arrow any longer.
“Suka let the servants of the household spread the news of the defeat of their masters. He calmly went about collecting his arrows and knives, cleaning them on the clothing of the Seven, before strolling to the town for a drink.
“When the people of Sondria found out about the death of the Seven, they erected a statue of Suka Templar and his legend continued to grow. As word spread, those who had fled returned and Sondria became once again a thriving community.”
Emerius had been so excited to hear the story. Later, his father had told him other stories about Suka Templar, and each one made Emerius dream of the time when he would finally become a hero himself. His awe and reverence for the man had only grown as Emerius did, and he had dedicated his life to being like his idol.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror in his room, the hunter admitted to himself that he had not done a good job. At every turn, he had been foiled. Heroes in stories never had to deal with pacing themselves, racing against foes who could go from one place to another in the blink of an eye. They found ways around obstacles, so why couldn’t he? What would his father think of him? He hadn’t even been able to save Ancha. Not yet, anyway.
He shook his head. That was what distinguished little boys with dreams from true heroes: when they were beaten down and all looked lost, they would pick themselves up and attack again. They would be victorious even though it looked like there was no way it could be so. There had to be a way. He would find it. If Suka Templar could do it, then so could he.
Chapter 43
Emerius was sitting on a bench petting Oro’s head when the others arrived at the teleport point.
“Em,” Inoria said, “we didn’t see you at breakfast. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “I grabbed something from the kitchen and came down to see Oro. I’m not much in the mood for people.”
His sister understood. Of the two of them, she was always the one who did the talking, the negotiations. She loved people, had a heart disposed to care about others. He cared, too, but in a different way. He cared about “people,” whereas she cared about each individual person. He wanted to save the world while she just wanted to help one man or woman at a time. It worked for them. She could be the talker and he could be the aloof hero. He wondered which Suka Templar was.
“We’re only a few days from Rasaad’s headquarters, according to Lahim Chode’s information,” Sam said. “Is everyone ready?”
They were, so Sam sat on the ground as he always did, breathed a lot, and then they were off, appearing right where they had left off the night before. That was something, the teleporting. Emerius had grown used to it, but if he stopped to think, he realized just how amazing it was. If they had to cover the same distance without it, it would take them much longer. They would have to stop to forage and hunt, would have to carry much more weight in supplies, which would slow them down, and they would probably be more tired. When he thought of it that way, he realized that they were probably making more progress by stopping and resting at the fortress each night than they would if they had tried to push straight through. Still, it wasn’t fast enough.
As if reading his mind, Sam said, “Since we’re so close, maybe we can squeeze a couple more hours of travel each day. If the rakkeben and Oro seem to be strong enough, we should probably continue to travel into the dark each night.” They had come upon a road the day before, one they were sure went straight to Gutu. Travel was fast and safe—at least as far as road hazards like holes and roots were concerned—so they could easily move at night at almost the same speed as during the daytime.
Emerius felt a smile crease his face as he looked at Sam. Sam nodded, showed him a small smile of his own, and continued getting his wolf ready for the day’s ride. Okay, maybe this green boy wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
The next two and a half days went quickly. Emerius’s mind wandered as they made their way toward Gutu, more south than east now. He thought of what they would do when they got there. The fortress would no doubt be bottled up tight, with walls and fortifications as well as soldiers to keep them out. He had some ideas, but didn’t want to share them just yet.
They approached Gutu in the middle of the morning. The sky was overcast, threatening to snow. Heated up from travel, Emerius didn’t even feel it. His cloak was open and flapping as Oro slowed his run to a walk and then stopped altogether.
The fortress was unlike anything Emerius had ever seen. True, he hadn’t seen that many castles and fortifications, but those he did see had a sort of symmetry to them. They were built in the same basic shape as homes or other buildings, but much larger and with walls around them. Gutu was definitely not like that. It seemed all wrong, like it shouldn’t even be able to hold its own weight.
The walls were the most normal thing about the whole place, but even those were strange, with edges and points at random locations. The buildings looked like they had grown out of the ground like some kind of large thorn bush, all prickly and pointy. Emerius was familiar with building and design. After all, his father trained him in engineering and science. Probably because of that, it looked all the more shocking.
Inoria nudged him with her elbow. When he looked at her, she was blinking. “Em, are you seeing what I’m seeing? Is such a building possible?”
“I’m seeing it, sis,” he said. “I don’t know why anyone would build something so
awkward. It’s like the opposite of smoothly flowing lines.”
“I think that’s the point,” Sam said. “The power that Rasaad uses isn’t the rohw, which is all about harmony and flow. Maybe her power is based on jagged lines and awkward intervals.”
They were all motionless, looking at the structures in front of them.
“Well,” Emerius said. “We should probably scout it so we can figure out how to get in. In and I will go do that while you move off into the trees so no one on the road will be able to see you.” He pointed to a section of the surrounding forest. “Go over there. We’ll come get you after we take a look around. Oro, go with them.”
The big bear looked up at his name and then dropped his nose to the ground, emitting a slight whining noise.
“Don’t whine at me,” Emerius said. “It’ll only be for a little while. You can’t move quietly enough. You’ll give us away.” He patted the bear’s head and he and Inoria went into the trees.
It felt good moving through the trees again. He had been riding Oro on roads or paths for too long, just trying to get here. He belonged right where he was, slipping through the trees without a trace. Just him and Inoria, like it had always been. He’d be glad when all of this was done and they could take Ancha back home. And the other villagers from Blackwood, too, of course. All of them. The ones who hadn’t been turned into monsters. It would be a lot of work to rebuild their home, but he wasn’t afraid of hard work.
They neared the edge of the trees and got a closer look at the walls. They were probably only thirty feet tall and it seemed that there were plenty of handholds to be had. Taking a closer look, though, Emerius changed his mind. The walls looked to be made from a hard, black type of crystal. Obsidian? If it was, climbing would be more difficult than it appeared. With the sharp angles, obsidian could slice skin easily. Gloves may work, but they would also compromise dexterity. He’d have to think about it.
Along the top of the walls, there seemed to be a walkway on which guards could move. Judging from how much of the bodies he saw of those moving about, the pointed tops of the wall probably protruded four feet or so above the walkway. As Emerius watched and timed the guards, he saw that there was a definite rotation. If someone could get up to the wall, climb it, and get over it within a minute and forty seconds, they may be successful in infiltrating the fortress. That was asking a lot.
There didn’t seem to be any doors along the base of the walls, other than the main gate. It was a typical feature of walls and Emerius wasn’t surprised. He did wonder if there were hidden doors, but he wasn’t going to risk being seen now to go looking for them.
He and Inoria studied the walls, gates, and the roving guards for a few minutes more and then quietly slipped back into deeper forest, toward the others.
When they arrived, Oro was sitting, head cradled in his paws, waiting patiently. “Good boy,” Emerius said to him, patting his head as he passed. Sam was doing some kind of exercise with Rindu, sitting in the cross-legged position again, knees almost touching the Zouy’s, who sat with the same posture. Nalia and Skitter were over by the rakkeben.
“Okay, let’s go,” Emerius said. “We found an area we can use to stage our attack. It’s close enough to the wall so we don’t have to travel far but deep enough into the trees so that we don’t have to worry about being seen.”
Everyone followed the twins back to the place they had found. Emerius cringed every time he heard Oro and Sam make a noise. The rakkeben moved quietly and Nalia and Rindu made no sound at all. He knew it was just his nerves. Small animals in the forest made sounds, and the guards, even if they could hear them, would think they were squirrels or a rabbit or something like that. Still, it grated on him.
No sooner had they put their gear down than they heard a commotion of something, or several somethings, rushing through the foliage. Emerius didn’t like that sound. It sounded just like…
“It’s more of the creatures,” he said, nocking an arrow and raising his bow. “Here we go again.”
He was right. Bushes were trampled and their attackers were soon visible. It was a mixture of different creatures, like before. The one thing that was the same was the hungry, hateful look in the eyes of the monsters attacking them.
Emerius set about killing as many as he could. He had determined, from his other encounters with the mutated creatures, that the only sure way to kill them was to put an arrow in their eye. No matter the armor plating or other defenses each particular creature might have, their eyes were vulnerable. Though the mutants had different forms, their bodies twisted beyond what nature would normally allow, they all still had brains that regulated their functions. Putting an arrow into the brain—through the eye—worked every time.
It was a good thing he could hit an acorn from a hundred feet. He pretended that was what he was doing. He was shooting acorns, not killing those who used to be his neighbors.
Emerius was pulling arrows from his quiver, nocking them, drawing them to his cheek, and loosing them at a rate of three or four a second. At this pace, he would empty his quiver before he ran out of foes and have to fight these monsters with his long knives. He hoped they ran out of mutants before he ran out of arrows.
There was a break in the flood of creatures coming toward him and he took the opportunity to quickly look around. Inoria was five feet away, her quiver half empty but not looking to be in any distress. Rindu and Nalia were cutting through their attackers with a cool efficiency even Emerius found chilling. Sam, on the other hand, was being tested. There were no less than seven slavering creatures coming at him at once. He was doing a good job fending them off, but one mistake would end him.
Emerius whistled shrilly and Inoria’s head snapped to her brother. He jerked his own head toward Sam while he nocked an arrow. A second later, four arrows were flying and in another second, half of Sam’s attackers had dropped to the ground, dead. Sam looked over at the twins, nodded his thanks, and proceeded to whittle down the remaining opponents.
In the meantime, another rush of the creatures had noticed the twins. Emerius shrugged his shoulders. Fourteen arrows left, by the weight of his quiver. He had to make them count. He settled back into the calm he always maintained when shooting and carried on with business.
The battle was winding down. There were bodies of mutants lying all around them, choking the spaces between the trees. The rush had stopped; it seemed as if they had taken care of the bulk of the force being sent against them. Emerius shot his last arrow into what looked to be a mixture between a person and a pantor. The projectile struck exactly where it was needed, in the creature’s eye, but it was—literally—mindlessly still charging at him. He drew his long knives, blades as long as his forearms, sidestepped the creature’s lunge, and tore its throat out as it passed. The monster slid to a halt, trying desperately to rise again, but failing.
Then, a small, red-haired creature came charging at him. It was very fast, running and bounding off trees and the bodies of its fellows. Emerius planted his feet, held his blood-stained knives in front of him, and prepared to defend himself.
He heard the twang of a bowstring and the creature twisted in mid-air, in the middle of a jump, rolled, righted itself, and came on again, arrow protruding from its shoulder. There were two more of the distinct bow sounds, almost at the same time, and the attacker moved, narrowly dodging one arrow, only to be struck by a perfectly-aimed shot into its eye. It slid, coming to rest at Emerius’s feet.
“Just like Suka Templar and the Seven,” Inoria laughed. She came up to him, no other mutated creature around them. The others were finishing off the last of their attackers.
Emerius looked down at the creature Inoria had just killed. It was smaller than most of the others, not quite man-sized, but bigger than a hapaki. It was hard to tell with the way it was elongated, no doubt because of the influence of animal parts. Its slight build and red hair was different than the other mutants they faced.
Inoria kneeled and turned its
head so that she could see its face more clearly, see the eye that didn’t have an arrow jutting out of it.
She gasped.
“Ancha?” she cried. “Ancha?”
The creature blinked at her and she watched as the remaining intact eye focused on her. Its mouth twitched into what could have been pain or an attempt at a smile, and then the light went out of its eye and it went still.
“ANCHA!” Inoria screamed. “He told me you would be kept safe, that he would give you back to us. Oh, Ancha.”
She jumped to her feet and ran toward the walls of the fortress, where figures had gathered on the battlements to watch what they could see of the battle. Emerius was too shocked to respond until she had already cleared half the distance. She was screaming unintelligibly.
Emerius and the others watched in horror as Inoria ran straight at the walls. She had three arrows left, which she drew and fired as she was running, killing three of the bystanders where they stood. Within seconds, an answering hail of arrows flew down, many of them striking her. She slowed, dropped to one knee, and started crawling toward the wall.
“Help me,” Emerius shouted to the others. He ran toward his sister, snatching arrows from bodies as he went. By the time he reached the clearing before the walls, he had five in his hand.
“I’ll get her,” Sam said, right next to him—Emerius hadn’t even heard him keeping pace with him—“you keep them busy.”
Sam rushed into the clearing, using his staff to swat away the few arrows that came at him. Emerius watched the archers on the walls and killed them as they were beginning to shoot. It was enough to allow Sam to put Inoria over his shoulders and run back to the cover of the trees. Nalia and Rindu had made it to Sam, also, and were catching or destroying any arrows Emerius failed to prevent being fired.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 85
