by Hooke, Isaac
“Get out of the way, you moro—” the orak said. An arrow from Gwen penetrated its open mouth before the monster could finish the sentence.
“There are too many of them!” Malem said. “We have to cut through to the other side, and flee! Remount!”
Tucking his dagger away behind his belt, he leaped onto Bounder’s back and the animal stood up. He ordered the other horses closer to their respective owners, except for Neeme, who was separated by a row of monsters.
Gwen was out of arrows, so she slid her bow over one shoulder, using the drawstring like a strap, and scooped up a sword from a fallen beast to hack off the head of the first orak in her path. She continued forward, hewing down the oraks between herself and Neeme. Malem joined in at her side, guarding her flank with Bounder and his sword as she waded deep within the fray. Her sword forms were crude but the strength behind each blow was impressive, and very effective. She cut right through that bronze armor, digging deep into orak chests. Sometimes she cut an arm clean away. Or another head.
What Malem would have given for strength like that. And yet, a part of his mind reminded him as he fought that he was already borrowing some of that strength courtesy of their link.
Because of their connection, he also knew it wasn’t sheer strength alone driving her, but the seething rage of vengeance: she fought to avenge the friends—the family—she had lost in her village.
Like a force of nature she plowed forward, leaving bodies in her wake until finally, just like that, she was through. Neeme stood before her, seeming almost demonic in nature with those eyes red with bloodlust, and its beautiful hide marred by the cuts and gashes of battle. Gwen promptly mounted the steed, almost slipping because of the layer of orak blood that coated the surface of her robe.
Malem steered Bounder away, leading Gwen back to Abigail and Xaxia, who were also mounted. The four of them spurred forward, hacking through the oraks in their paths—or in Abigail’s case, throwing fire—trying to break through to the far side.
Spirit had grown tired, and rested on a nearby branch.
Malem released the horses now that they were mounted. He was ready to dispatch calming vibes among the animals, but it proved unnecessary: though they stopped biting and kicking, the horses still obeyed their masters. No doubt some of the bloodlust and fearlessness remained inside of them, spurring them on.
Abigail struck an orak with a glancing blow of fire. The creature was about to retaliate, and hack at her while she sat on her mount, but Malem intercepted its blade. He twisted the sword back on the creature, and sliced off its ear. The screaming orak stepped back into the ranks of its comrades, some of whom shoved him forward again.
Malem could sense the pain, terror, and disbelief running through the monster’s energy bundle. It was similar to the sensations he had experienced while subduing stronger-willed animals in the past, right before he broke them.
I wonder…
He wrapped his will around the energy and squeezed. The monster broke free.
Before he could try again a blur of motion drew his gaze to the left; one of the oraks had thrown its sword at him.
He tried to swivel his body away, and parry with his own blade, but he already knew he was going to take the hit. And given how poorly armored he was, it was going to hurt.
Beside him, Xaxia used her superior speed to lean forward in the saddle and bat the weapon away before it struck him. Her weapon glowed brightly upon impact. As the deflected blade flew away, she gave him a wink.
“I don’t remember you having a sword like that!” he said.
She shrugged. “The merchant might have given it to me.”
She turned in time to deflect another blow.
Malem returned his attention to the weakened orak, which had retreated beyond the incoming vanguard. He wrapped his will around the energy bundle, and this time was ready when the orak tried to escape. He held fast as the beast’s mind thrashed about, and at last, it surrendered.
He had broken the monster.
“They have another mage!” Gwen shouted. Her robes were drenched in the blood of her opponents.
He couldn’t see the mage from his current vantage, so he used Spirit’s eyes. There, just inside the eaves of the forest next to the trail, was the orak mage. It rode a pale horse whose body was marred with black veins that formed spiderweb patterns. The mage wore a blue robe rather than the black of the previous.
Malem ordered his orak to target the magic user from behind.
The mage unleashed a stream of ice at Abigail and she was forced to form a thin disk of fire to protect herself. The nearby oraks used the distraction to leap over the flaming bodies of their comrades and rush her.
“Protect her!” he said. “If she falls, we’ll soon follow!”
Bounder leaped in front of Ember and began tearing into the attackers. Meanwhile, Malem hacked down with his sword.
Gwen and Xaxia protected Abigail’s other exposed flanks.
The mage continued its assault, unleashing another stream, targeting Gwen. She leaped off her horse and slew an orak underneath her, adding its blood to the existing spatters on her robes, and physically lifting it in front of her as the ice stream pivoted downward, following her. She used the body as a shield, and the back of the creature froze solid. Nearby foliage also became covered in ice.
Malem’s orak approached the ice mage from behind. There were two big pike-wielding guards with it, both on foot. He decided to take direct control of the animal.
He squeezed his thighs around the saddle and tightened his grip on the pommel, and then his viewpoint snapped inside that of the orak. He could still see with his own eyes atop Bounder, but he could no longer control his body, which sat motionless atop the iguanid while the animal tore into the oraks around it. The thigh and hand muscles of his body would continue to apply the same amount of pressure as before he transferred his viewpoint, ensuring he physically stayed in the saddle.
He stabbed his sword into the back of the first guard’s neck, and before it dropped, he was already withdrawing his weapon. The second guard spun toward him, only to meet the tip of his orak blade.
The ice mage, whose back was to him, raised its arms, and shards of ice began to drop from the sky above the combatants.
Malem leaped his orak body into the air and plunged the sword into the mage’s back. The blade easily penetrated the weakly armored foe, and the mage slumped in its saddle as Malem landed and withdrew the sword.
“What have you done!” a nearby orak shouted.
Before Malem could react, a pike stabbed into his orak’s side.
He slumped in Bounder’s saddle as the connection severed, boomeranging in the usual mental slap.
But it wasn’t just the blow from the disrupted link that had him slumping: that last bit had truly exhausted him.
Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to take direct control.
But he had wanted to see if he could.
A shard of ice struck him in the leg and he screamed as it dug deep. He realized sharp chunks were still falling from the sky, even though the mage had been killed. Abigail had been doing her best to melt them before they arrived, but several were starting to get through her airborne fire shield as she continued to weaken.
“Breaker!” Xaxia shouted.
He grabbed the shield the bandit woman tossed his way. She’d collected a few, he noted—spoils of war, strapped in behind her saddle.
He lifted the shield skyward, and deflected the shards that reached him; he was careful to bat away any that were destined for his mount, too.
Speaking of which, Bounder was beginning to slow down. The iguanid had taken several wounds on the front areas, and was starting to look as bad as the bear before it had fallen. Well, maybe not that bad, but still, Malem doubted Bounder would be able to hold up too much more of this.
Some of the shards struck oraks, too, and the blows injured and stunned them. He used the opportunity to reach out with his mind, and he
found two whose mental energies seemed the most desperate. He promptly broke the first orak and converted it to his side, but he had difficulty with the second; it felt like he was hitting up against his mental limit once again, even though he still had two slots free.
Unless, each orak counted for two slots.
He released his hold on Spirit, and then tried again. This time, he had just enough room to snap his will around the second. He definitely felt like he was hitting against his limit.
Monsters take two slots. Or at least these ones do.
He supposed higher level monsters would take up even more.
He turned the two against their companions, which caused confusion among their ranks, and a definite loss in morale, as some on the outskirts began to flee.
“They’re turning on each other!” Gwen said.
“That’s me,” Malem said. “Don’t harm those two!”
With the two oraks leading the charge, the party finally broke through the disorganized ranks, and they continued north at a gallop. Malem’s oraks were hewn down, which was just as well. He took the mental impacts and then found Spirit once more with his mind, and restored his grip on the bird. He sent the hawk scouting ahead along the trail.
He discarded the shield, which had been damaged to near uselessness, and focused on the escape.
The mounts were already tired from the fighting, and some were injured, too. Because of that, their all-out gallop soon dropped to a medium canter.
Abigail was lying on Ember’s mane, all of her flames extinguished, so that for a moment he thought she was injured. But then she pushed herself up and rode hunched. Clearly exhausted.
Like myself.
“It’s clear ahead, at least for the next few miles,” he said over the thundering hooves. As the oraks behind dropped out of his sense range, he had Spirit double back. “Some of the oraks are following. They won’t catch us, at least if we can keep this pace.”
“We won’t,” Gwen shouted. “At least not Neeme.”
“Mine won’t, either,” Xaxia said.
Abigail didn’t say anything, which was disturbing.
He heard a deep, shallow note over the rumbling of the hooves, as of a war horn blowing behind them.
An answering horn sounded somewhere ahead.
“Shit,” Xaxia said. “They’ve got us cut off.”
He sent Spirit forward once more, and saw the oraks pouring onto the tight road about two miles ahead. That was well beyond his sense distance.
He didn’t really want to reach out with his mind, because of his weariness, but he forced himself, searching the forest closer at hand, specifically the left and right flanks.
“Got more coming in on the east, through the trees,” he said. “The other side, too.”
“They’ve got us surrounded,” Gwen said.
He felt along the western perimeter, searching those energy bundles. “No wait. There’s a gap. In the trees to the left, they’re coming in from the northwest, and southwest. Due west is clear, for now. We head there!”
He swerved to the left, and Abigail, too tired to resist, followed without a word. The others also came just behind him.
He crashed through the trees and retrieved a scarf from his saddlebags to shield his face from the scratching branches of the undergrowth. He kept his hood lowered, and wrapped the fabric around the lower half of his face.
Ahead, he could sense the two opposing groups of oraks to the northwest and southwest, closing the gap to meet them as the party rushed forward. It was like an ever tightening vise.
“Faster!” Malem said.
“We’re going to be caught between the anvil and the hammer!” Gwen said.
“Not if I can help it....” he spurred Bounder on faster.
The undergrowth thickened, as did the surrounding trees. The going was rough. He waved his sword in front of him to cut at the low-lying branches, and ducked those that were too thick. Bounder leaped over fallen logs and depressions, and swerved between the thicker boles of the pines.
Spirit followed above, but her keen hawk eyes were unable to penetrate the canopy of pines, save for fleeting glimpses of bronze and pikes.
The trees began to thin out somewhat, and the party had a break from the relentless claws of the trees.
He steered the party directly between the closing groups of oraks, using his beast sense to choose the route directly down the middle.
“We’re almost there!” he called over his shoulder.
They were going to make it.
He was certain of it.
That was when he spotted the lone orak mage standing on a log ahead, directly in front of him. The mage wore a black robe, like the first. Once more Malem had failed to detect the creature.
“It was a trap!” Gwen said. “They were purposely herding us that way!”
When the black mists shot out from that mage toward him, Malem knew she was right.
17
Malem found himself transfixed by those swirling, incoming fingers of black mist.
They reminded him of the Darkness.
My doom.
Something struck him from the side, and tore him off the saddle a moment before the spinning mass hit.
The branches of a shrub broke his fall, but he still hit the ground fairly hard. He was surprised to see Abigail on top of him. She collapsed on the dirt beside him. For a moment he thought the darkness had hit her, but he saw no signs of any injury. She was still breathing, at least. Even so, it was obvious she was out of the fight.
Felipe squeaked from inside his collar, evidently having liked the fall about as much as Malem. At least the little guy was still all right.
The bundle of energy representing Bounder was still intact, thankfully—the dark magic had missed the mount, too. Malem ordered the iguanid to take cover nearby. Gwen and Xaxia similarly scattered. He momentarily took control of Ember, and ordered the animal to stay next to Bounder.
He released the horse, knowing that Bounder would ensure Ember didn’t stray too far. Then he peered past the edge of a nearby tree.
The mage stepped down from its impromptu dais imperiously and raised a hand as the two groups of oraks converged on its position. The ranks halted.
Malem could sense the creature now that it was in view, and he attempted to seize control of it, but the orak mage was too high level—the tendrils of his will evaporated from the energy sphere that represented the monster like water thrown onto hot metal. Perhaps if the creature was beaten and subdued first, Malem might have a chance. It didn’t help that he was weakened from Breaking the previous oraks.
He spotted Xaxia. She had dismounted her horse, and pulled the animal low, behind a nearby tree. He noticed the pike she had secured to the saddlebags. A useful spoil of war...
He concentrated on the bundle of energy that represented Gwen inside his skull.
Gwen, are you there?
Yes, she replied. I’ve dismounted... Neeme and I are hiding behind a boulder, not far from you.
Can you throw a spear? he sent.
Of course!
What about an orak pike?
She didn’t reply immediately. It will be weighted differently. But I’ve thrown enough spears of different weights. I think I can wing it.
Good. Can you see Xaxia? She has a pike on her mount.
I see it!
He smiled grimly. I want you to fetch that spear, and throw it at the mage when I give the order.
Gwen crept forward. She had secured Neeme behind the boulder.
Meanwhile, across from Malem, a group of six oraks fanned out in front of the black mage. The latter creature had its eyes wide open, and as it scanned the trees, its expression was one of concentration. That it hadn’t paralyzed the party of humans like the first mage told Malem that there was a range limitation on the magic. Either that, or this mage didn’t specialize in that particular work of the arcane.
Gwen reached Xaxia and whispered something in her ear, then she re
trieved the pike from the cache at the back of Xaxia’s horse. Then she looked at Malem expectantly.
Two of the incoming oraks were halfway to their position.
Malem had positioned Spirit on a branch just above, and he ordered the hawk to swoop into the face of the black mage and cause as much damage as it could. It was potentially a suicide mission, depending on how quickly the mage reacted.
But the orak was taken completely off guard,
Spirit made contact and Malem saw a splash of red gore as the hawk ripped away—the bird of prey had successfully captured one of the orak mage’s eyes.
A little disgusting, but it did the job. The mage shrieked in agony.
Now!
Gwen threw the pike but her aim was off; it hit the distracted mage in the thigh, embedding deep. The orak’s screams only heightened.
Malem cursed silently, but then realized that maybe sparing the mage wasn’t such a bad thing.
He reached out experimentally, and found the bundle of pain that represented the injured creature. He flexed the fingers of his will and tightened them around the slippery mass. At least his mind energy didn’t evaporate upon contact this time. That was a good start.
The screaming cut off, and the mage began concentrating anew.
Malem couldn’t get a hold on that bundle of energy. It was too slippery, too evasive. Their wills clashed: every time he thought he had a grip, the mage escaped him. Though the mage might have been weakened, he was in no way out of the game, not yet.
Malem was starting to think maybe another thrown pike was in order...
He kept trying. He was close. He knew he was. He could sense the mage weakening by the second as it bled out from its wounds.
There!
He seized the bundle and squeezed tightly. It was like trying to hang onto a squirming trout that one had fished directly out of the river. It whacked this way and that, and he knew he had to enforce his will quickly, or he’d lose it.
And yet he found himself hitting at his mental limit once again. It didn’t make sense, he still had three slots three.
