“I am assuming that it did not go as planned?” he asked.
Blade turned his head to look at Kunther in the dark. Kunther could feel his gaze and he thought for a moment the big man was going to reach over and yank him off his horse.
“No, it did not,” he answered. “Reikker-Kol got the message just as planned, and as timed, but instead of returning to the castle, he sent a handful of his warriors to find us and kill us. We heard them coming up the stairs for us and in a panic, Red Blade killed one of his children.”
Blade paused, stopped his horse, and looked at Kunther.
“You realize what just happened then, my young friend, don’t you?”
“I think so,” Kunther responded. He feared that he did indeed know the answer.
“I told you the true name of one of our members.”
“But you just told me that he was killed.”
“Doesn’t matter. Before this is over, I will have to kill you so that you do not pass along this information.” Blade laughed and kicked his horse to start again. “Don’t worry, my young friend. I am not going to kill you, not just yet.”
“But, you said you wouldn’t kill me…” Kunther whispered. He shook his head in frustration.
They rode in silence for nearly an hour before Blade began again.
“I didn’t finish telling you the ending of the story,” he blurted out with excitement. “After Red Blade killed the little boy, Rock Blade summarily and without notice, took his sword and disemboweled my friend. He bled out within minutes and died in my arms without saying a word. After that, the battle raged. Reikker-Kol’s second-class guards barged through the door. We were outnumbered three to one, but these warriors -- if you want to call them that -- fought like children and we easily killed them all within a few minutes. It was almost as if Reikker-Kol wanted us to survive. Why he would do that, I do not know, because in the end he lost one of his children, his heir. It would’ve been a good day regardless, had Rock Blade not killed Red Blade. I saw a day where we invaded his beloved keep and killed his heir, but who would’ve figured that one of our own would kill another.”
“How did he get away?” Kunther asked.
“Humph, you would think it not possible, eh? Well, he did escape during the fighting. Their numbers were indeed great, but they were weak, and unfortunately for us, and fortunately for Rock Blade, they kept us pre-occupied enough for him to escape while we slaughtered every man who came through that door. I sent another one of our members to search for him while we escaped to safety, but he came back empty handed…he had escaped our grasps. Never again will he get away from me. Next time I will not let that happen, I will kill him just as soon as I see his evil brown eyes.”
Blade remained silent a little longer before he rode back up to his guild members. They spoke silently for a few moments and were then quiet for many hours after that. Kunther remained behind, just enough to stay out of their way, but not far enough to make them feel like he was trying to get away.
He wondered if Blade would really kill him after helping him find Alaezdar. Why would Alaezdar send him on this mission to have his enemy hunt him down and kill him? He understood that Alaezdar expected Blade to come in with reinforcements to help with the fiery witch and the gronts, but would Alaezdar really expect to give his life in order to save Aaelie? Kunther assumed that he would, but also he hoped for a better outcome. He could not see how, though, unless Kunther could manage to kill Blade before he could kill Alaezdar.
Kunther continued to follow, occasionally nodding off and wondering when these crazy warriors were going to stop. How could they continue without sleep? He realized that his pony was trained to follow the pack no matter where they went, so he took a chance and laid his head on the back of the pony’s neck and, surprisingly, found he could sleep.
He was awakened with a start and he found himself on the ground, surrounded by the group laughing at him. Someone had pushed him off the pony.
“Grab your roll and sleep, you slouch!” Blade yelled at him. “The sun will be up in an hour and we will be on our way again.”
“You can do this on an hour of sleep?” Kunther asked, rubbing his eyes.
“We can go three days without sleep, you fool. It seems you can’t go a few hours without hugging your mount to rest.”
Kunther stood up, grabbed his roll off of the back of the pony and laid it down by the nearest tree. He was asleep faster than he thought possible, but was awakened again with a start.
“Shut your mouth, boy,” someone whispered, his hand over Kunther’s mouth.
Kunther nodded that he understood and he sat up. The sun had not yet risen, but early morning light trickled through the trees and sparkled through a light dewy haze. All of the others were up, swords drawn and shields up, facing the road, each hiding behind a tree.
Kunther couldn’t see anything, but he could hear something coming down the road. Disobeying his command, he went to his pony and found his sword. He wished he had Straight Edge instead. It already seemed so long ago that Rankin had made his sword, but it had been stolen back in Hollenwood, and he would never see it again.
Blade spoke to another member, named Blade, Kunther surmised, as he was the only man he was allowed to talk to. They were all named Blade as far as he was concerned. It was a confusing mandate when surrounded by more than one person, but who was he to argue? The two crouched behind the tree in conversation and pointed down the road, and Kunther could hear the sound of horse hooves and a rackety old wagon in tow, creaking in agony.
One of the other men came from behind him and crouched next to him, put his hand on his shoulder and smiled.
“We are going to have a good old fashioned raid with a small group of Trielian warriors. Stay back, boy. These warriors aren’t slouches. You are going to see some experienced fighting on both sides. I guarantee you a good show this morning.”
“What is your name?” Kunther asked without thinking of the consequences. He was just curious at first, but then he thought, “What does it matter? Blade said I was to die soon anyhow.”
The man smiled, but said nothing.
He then stood and ran from tree to tree, keeping concealed. Kunther stayed hidden behind one tree and waited. He wanted to fight, and he heard Blade’s voice echoing in his head telling him that he was going to kill him sooner or later, so what did it matter if he fought or hid? Really, he thought, why did they need him along on this mission anyways? He didn’t know where Alaezdar really was, other than somewhere in the Goblin Tribes Forest, and yet somehow Blade seemed to know exactly where to go. Ever since they had left, they had been charging like a pack of wolves to sheep. So why did any of it matter?
Kunther heard the wagon approach even closer. Six men on horseback in Trielian dark blue and black, light battle armor rode spread out, three on each side of the road, followed by a tired, worn out looking uncovered wagon carrying what looked to be dark rocks.
Dark rocks, Kunther had seen before, but only once. He had seen a wagon similar to this one behind Rankin’s smithy. He had never thought much of it then, but he did remember asking Rankin what type of rocks they were, and he now remembered how angry Rankin had gotten, and how he had summarily dismissed him and threatened him with the hot end of his poker.
Two men sat on the wagon controlling a team of two horses while six more warriors trailed behind, scattered in no particular order. As soon as the wagon reached Blade, he gave a hand signal and two other men loosed their arrows and took out the drivers. All of the Ragers were then onto the road before the two drivers hit the ground. The horses stopped when the reins fell to the path.
Arrows continued to fly, knocking two of the warriors off their horses. Even though they were on horseba
ck, the Ragers had used their advantage of surprise to attack their opponent from the ground and force them off their horses, either by slicing their saddle tack loose or by killing the horse outright.
The archers continued to let loose more arrows. They had capitalized on the initiative and had done their damage, but now the Trielian warriors who were still on horseback had begun to regroup and engage their attackers by charging into the brush and assaulting the ambushers.
Five warriors charged directly towards the archers while the remaining five, now on foot, continued to defend themselves. The two archers, now realizing they were in trouble as the men on horseback came directly at them, began shooting off as many arrows as possible, not taking too much time to aim, but still hoping all or some would hit their mark.
One of the Trielian horseback warriors charged on top of one of the archers and tried to hit him with his sword, but the archer dove flat down to ground, safely, and the sword caught nothing but air. The other archer was not so lucky. He continued to fire while on his knees, still aiming for the warrior charging him, and one of his arrows hit its mark, but only glanced off of the helmet.
The warrior stayed focused, even though the glancing shaft had caused him to take his eyes slightly off his target. After reacquiring his target, he raised his sword and swung downward. He split the archer’s skull. Blood splattered on the horse as the archer’s body slumped against the tree next to the animal and slid to the ground.
The other archer, who had been lying on his stomach, stood up as the horseman passed him and ran deeper into the woods. By the time the warrior had turned his horse around, the archer was gone and out of sight.
Kunther watched him run right by him and jump on his horse, patiently waiting for his master. Kunther noticed that all of the horses were so well trained that they waited untied, standing just outside of the fray.
“You had better get on your pony and either start fighting or start running!” the archer yelled before he reined his horse back towards the battle. One by one, the men found their horses and charged back into the fight.
They attacked the Trielian warriors with a vengeance Kunther had never seen before. As they fought, each one knew where their members were and either had their back or would knock out their own opponent. No one had to worry about anything other than killing their own man.
The Trielian warriors returned the fight bravely and did not disengage their battle until they were either dead or wounded so badly that they could no longer fight. They did not kill their opponents once the fighting stopped, though, and Kunther wondered why they did not totally annihilate their opponents. Why did they allow the unasked mercy?
Kunther noticed that two men were lying in the road, unmoving in the dirt, while Blade was fighting two Trielian warriors. Though men from the Rager’s guild had the upper hand in the battle, all were preoccupied in their individual battles to help their leader, who was now at a disadvantage.
Kunther, finally finding his courage, looked at his sword and thought about Straight Edge again, and how that sword in his hands was a mere toy, and this sword, as crude as it was, was not a toy to look at, or a weapon he could pretend someday he’d use in battle. Today was the day. He ran to his pony, grabbed his wooden shield from the pony’s back, and ran into the road.
Both of the Trielian warriors were in front of Blade, but he held a defensive stance, receiving and blocking every blow that came at him. Spinning and dodging, he countered every attack with a grace that Kunther found amazing.
As Kunther ran towards him, one of the warriors got the best of Blade by using his shield to knock him on his back. The other warrior then went in for the kill by swinging toward Blade’s head as he fell to the ground, but Kunther reached him first before he could bring his swing down.
Kunther lunged his sword into the small of the man’s back, where his armor exposed his flesh since his arms were above his head. The warrior screamed as his knees buckled and his body went limp and he fell to the ground paralyzed. The other warrior saw Kunther and redirected his attack to him. Blade was still on the ground.
Blade took advantage of Kunther’s attack and swooped his leg underneath the warrior and knocked him to the ground. He fell on his side with a grunt, but still held onto his sword and had rolled over to stand back up when Kunther kicked him in the ribs as he moved up on to his hands and knees. Again he rolled over in pain, this time dropping his sword to grab his chest, but he did not need his sword anymore. Blade, now standing up, drilled his sword into the warrior’s neck and killed him instantly.
Blade pulled his sword out of the man’s neck. Blood now covered both the sword and Blade’s feet. He looked around and found that the battle seemed to be over. He saw the rest of his fellow Ragers returning on horseback.
“They’re all gone now,” one of them said as they faced Blade. “The ones on horseback escaped.”
“How many?”
“Only two or three of them.”
“I don’t think they will be returning after the beating we just handed them. Take anything of value you can find from the dead and hide it somewhere where we can find it on our return trip.”
Blade walked over to the wagon and grabbed a chunk of gray rock with his gloved hand. He made sure that none of his skin touched it and he held with care. He lifted it up so that Kunther could get a good look at it.
“Do you know what this is, my young friend?”
Kunther had seen it before, but only in Rankin’s shop when he had been an apprentice and Rankin had taken great care in keeping it hidden and out of sight.
“I have, but I don’t know what it is,” he admitted.
Blade smiled.
“This is ore mined from the mountains in the Goblin Tribes Forest. It is called Goblin-Touched Steel. The Trielian King takes this from your village to make swords. Why is this ugly rock so precious, you might ask. Well, I will tell you. The rock is toxic. If you just merely scratch yourself with this rock, your blood will carry the poison to your heart and make you sick and weak. Sometimes it can even kill you. This is a powerful ore, you see, and all a warrior has to do is wound his opponent and the battle will be quickly over. Tharn is the master of this ore and of its production.”
Blade took his sword and swiped it over his thigh to wipe the blood off. Kunther just stared at Blade, curious as to how he knew this.
“Oh, you thought Tharn was just a simple farmer running a tiny, benign little community, did you?” he said laughing, as if reading Kunther’s mind, “Oh, he is much more than that. He has been mining this little ore for his Trielian friends and sending it to them three or four times a year, at least…maybe even more, I would imagine. The whole farming scene was just a ruse to cover his mining operation. Did he tell you that he was a soldier in the Trielian army?”
“Yes,” Kunther answered, not sure if was actually supposed to answer, “but he had retired.”
This made Blade laugh so hard that he started to cough. When he finally stopped, he looked over towards Kunther and smiled.
“Yes, I suppose he did retire in some sort. He retired out of the regimen, but he retired as a high-ranking commander and was rewarded for his diligent service to settle down to some easy duty in the Valelands. But make no mistake, boy, he was fully commissioned by the king of Triel to do the king’s business by sending him poisonous weapons.”
“This is hard to believe,” Kunther admitted.
“Of course it is. Tharn is a very deceitful, very political old man who has been trained years to do what he is doing. Don’t feel too badly, Kunther. Alaezdar is just as deceitful as Tharn is, and I look forward to killing both of them before we head back home.”
Now feeling awkward, Kunther kicked the dead warrior at his
feet and looked at Blade.
“What now?” he asked.
“Good question, my young man. Kneel.”
Kunther felt all the eyes of Rager’s men upon him. This is it, he thought. Blade was going to kill him right there and then after he had told him so much.
Kunther dropped his sword and kneeled.
“Pick up your sword!” Blade commanded.
Kunther lowered his head, looking to the ground, but then shook his head.
“If you are going to kill me, then just do it.”
All of the men laughed at Kunther.
“Just pick up your sword, boy,” Blade said, laughing.
Kunther kept his eyes to the ground and reached for his sword. His fingers crawled over to it like a spider until he reached the hilt and picked it up.
“Place one knee on the ground and put your other foot flat. Then place your sword flatly upon your knee.”
Kunther did as instructed, but kept his eyes to the ground.
“Now look at me.”
Kunther looked up, gazing at Blade, as the large man, standing above him, loomed ever larger with his sword drawn inches from Kunther’s face.
“Would you die for those you fight with?”
Kunther nodded.
“Answer me, boy!”
“Ye-yess…I would,” he stammered.
“If instructed, would you kill Alaezdar to save my life or another member’s life? Think carefully before answering.”
Kunther was silent. He knew he would not do that, Alaezdar had been kind to him, but he feared that if he said no, Blade would certainly kill him.
“Yes, I will gladly do so to protect the Rager’s House of Renegades.”
“Will you hold the honor of the guild above all others?”
“Yes.”
Kunther straightened up as he realized what was happening.
“Will you die before breaking the honor of the guild?”
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 29
