He flirted with the thought that perhaps she wasn’t all there. Her mind was going. But then… she’d defeated a host of assassins pretty much on her own. He hadn’t killed even one. To do that, with the power the assassins possessed, must have taken some powerful magic on her part. So perhaps…
Again, he didn’t really know, and she wasn’t saying much more on the topic.
Gods, but she could be infuriating!
They’d been moving through the night at a fast pace, Wyllea pointing out divots, roots, or other obstacles in the darkness which he would have missed. Her night vision was definitely exceptional.
“We’re getting close,” she whispered and slowed the pace, creeping through some dense brush in a narrow valley.
Triol could see a flickering light in the distance through the bushes, someone’s fire.
Well, they were certainly heading somewhere.
As they drew near, he could make out figures in the clearing. She turned to him and whispered close to his ear, her hot breath sending a not-unpleasant tingling through him and warming him in ways he’d rather not say.
“Stay here. I’ll see what I can do, but Eaglewing says the man up ahead is very dangerous.” The message was clear. Tirol would be a liability and not someone to have around when things got dangerous. He nodded, hiding his anger and frustration. He wasn’t upset that she was leaving him behind. The gods knew he wouldn’t be much help to her. He more was irritated at himself for not being much help.
She smiled and moved away, silent as the night wind.
He adjusted his position slightly to get a better view of the clearing through the dense brush and watched. His ears grew accustomed to the quiet of the night after a moment, and he could hear those before him.
A man crossed his line of sight on the other side of their small fire. It was only briefly, but he made out a tall, broad frame, well built and strong. He was dressed in black leather armor with a large sword on his back. His hair was dark, and the man turned slightly such that Tirol caught a glimpse of his eyes. No light shone in those menacing orbs.
The man was talking to someone Tirol couldn’t see.
“… first thing in the morning, so you might as well sleep. You know you can’t escape. You’re nothing without your sword.”
The voice that responded was female, high and light. “I’ll find a way to escape. Either that or Ahrn will come for me.”
“Yes, your pathetic man. He’s no match for me, and you know it. He’s a normal man, even if he is an exceptional warrior. I defeated you with ease. He’ll be no issue at all.
“You won’t win,” was the woman’s defiant response.
The man laughed.
His laughing stopped abruptly. His eyes darted to the side. In the next instant, his hand came up with incredible speed, a blur. In his clenched fist, he held an arrow, the metal point just pricking his neck and drawing a bead of blood.
“I think that’s the closest anyone has ever come to hitting me,” he said evenly. Then he was moving again, so fast, rolling away from another arrow and coming up with his sword in hand.
“Show yourself,” he called into the night. Tirol could almost detect a hint of fear in his voice. The man’s sword twitched, knocking another arrow away from hitting him. A flurry of arrows hailed down on him, and every one of them was swept away by the black, light-sucking blade of the warrior’s sword.
Wyllea must have been getting frustrated by now. Something moved across Tirol’s vision and a moment later the woman from the clearing was throwing herself bodily at the man. He easily stepped out of the way, knocking another arrow from the air.
He laughed. “Do you really think you can best me?” With his next breath, he launched himself into the night. A moment later there was a commotion from the brush where Tirol guessed Wyllea had been hiding.
Wyllea came tumbling out of the brush, coming up firing arrows at the man who strode out behind her, easily swatting away her attacks.
“By the gods, what are you?” Wyllea cried, exasperated.
“The luckiest man alive,” he said, grinning. “I don’t know how another scion found me, but now I have two of you to take back to my master.”
“What are you talking about?”
With another burst of incredible speed, the man advanced on her. She blocked his strike with her bow, but only just. He attacked with a flash of the dark blade, swiping over and over again. She blocked again and again, but Tirol could see her movements were not as fast as the man’s, not as smooth.
With a twist and slash, Wyllea’s bow was pulled from her hands and tossed to the far side of the small clearing. The other woman dove for the weapon, but the man was faster, gripping Wyllea, pulling her up in front of him, and raising his sword to her neck. “Touch it and she dies.”
The other woman froze, frustration and anger playing on a young face with brilliant blue eyes and amber hair that fell like a curtain across her features. She rose slowly, defiance written in every movement and look.
The man laughed again, knowing he’d won.
“Come over here, Senia,” he said, smug arrogance clear in his voice. The other woman moved stiffly, the grim determination and resistance on her face turning to resigned frustration.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Wyllea.
When the other woman, Senia, was far enough away from Wyllea’s bow, the man withdrew his sword from Wyllea’s neck, only to then bring the pommel down swiftly on the back of her head with a wet crack. Wyllea dropped to the ground, limp, and the man took two long strides to meet Senia.
“It’s too bad I only have one of these,” he said grabbing the strange-looking bindings Senia wore on her wrists. “But it will have to do.” He withdrew a leather thong from around his neck from which hung a golden key. He pulled the thong over his head and proceeded to unlock one side of the bindings on Senia. Once that side was off, he rotated the bindings around the one hand they were still attached to, and with a command to “kneel,” he forced Senia to the ground. There he affixed the open side to one of Wyllea’s wrists, locked it, and put the thong with the key back around his neck.
The man then laid his hand on the back of Wyllea’s head and a dark nimbus surrounded him for the briefest of moments. Tirol wasn’t sure what had happened, but his gut told him the man had used magic, though to do what, he didn’t know.
The man turned to Senia before he rose, his face near to hers with a conceited grin. “I hope you see now, you have no chance of escape. Not even another scion could save you.”
She punched him. Her one hand, now free from the bindings, landed a solid strike to his jaw, turning his head slightly. It hardly seemed to faze him. Tirol could see blue fire burning in Senia’s eyes, but the man just laughed again as he stood.
“Get some sleep. We still have a long distance to go to see my master.”
Tirol sat back on his haunches for a moment, still not fully able to believe that Wyllea had been subdued and captured. It hadn’t been easy for the man, but it had hardly taken more than a few moments and the woman Tirol thought to be invincible was lying unconscious in the clearing before him.
The truly sad part was there was nothing he could do to help her. If she couldn’t defeat this man, there was no way Tirol had any chance. Tirol even contemplated simply running away. He was useless here.
That was when the true war started inside him.
Running was the smart move. It was the one that would keep him alive. He wasn’t a hero. He was a survivor. His father had been the hero and had died for a cause. Tirol had sworn he would never be that stupid. Yet his mind countered with the fact that his father has left those he loved behind, something Tirol wasn’t going to do. He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave. His mind kept working around the problem of how to free Wyllea despite its futility.
His self-preservation side kept trying to convince him to go. It replayed the fight he’d just seen over and over and with a certainty told him staying was death. If he want
ed to live another day, he would go and forget about this stupid woman with her intoxicating energy and brilliant green eyes.
To stay was death. So he turned, ready to go.
But to stay meant remaining with Wyllea. He turned back.
To go was to live. Perhaps, if he lived, he could rescue her later. He turned away again.
But he knew deep down that now would be his best chance. He didn’t think a man bogged down with two prisoners would move that fast, so perhaps Tirol could keep pace with them, watch for an opening. Yet this was no ordinary man, and most likely Tirol wouldn’t be able to keep up. He didn’t know how he knew that, but the uncertainty of whether or not he might ever get another chance to save Wyllea caused him to turn back once again.
He warred with himself into the night.
Ultimately, his self-preservation side asked the question he had hoped to avoid: Why?
The question rang through him: Why do this for her? Why stay?
The answer, though he knew it in his soul, took him no small amount of time to admit.
Because he loved her.
In that moment, everything fell into place for him.
He was willing to sacrifice himself for her because he loved her. His father had left his family not for some greater cause but to fight for his family, to protect them because he loved them. Perhaps it wasn’t foolish to sacrifice yourself if it’s for those you love.
Now sure, resolute, he stood again, peering into the clearing. The fire was reduced to a lick of flame on glowing embers. It was quiet. The dangerous man was sleeping.
Suddenly a plan hatched in Tirol’s mind. He could help Wyllea and the other woman escape, though they would still be bound. Something told him, however, that no mere smith would be able to break the bonds that held these two women. That meant that the only way to free Wyllea was to remove the bonds, and that meant getting the key from the dark warrior’s neck. The man slept, so it should be easy, but Tirol’s gut told him not to believe that assumption. The man might have some ward that would wake him, or he might just be a light sleeper. No, there was a surefire way to guarantee the man didn’t wake up. If Tirol was worried about magic, well, he happened to have a little magic of his own to counter it.
He took out his pouch of sleeping powder. He only had a little left, perhaps just more than one dose, which for a big man like that would probably do just fine. He had to get close enough to use it though. Luckily, he’d always been quiet, and his years as a thief had honed those skills to a fine edge.
He moved carefully through the brush and the darkness. It was torturously slow going to ensure he made no sound in the thick brush, but he knew he had the time and even one misstep could cause him his life.
Eventually, he crept out into the clearing, moving with a steady pace, measuring each stride and placing each foot with care. It felt like hours before he finally knelt next to the big man. He took the pouch of sleeping powder and simply upended it over the man’s head, letting the fine dust drift down to be inhaled and take effect.
Nothing happened, but that was a good sign. The man was still sleeping, hopefully much more deeply now. Triol moved carefully, slowly, not wishing to tempt fate as he pulled the thong with the key up out of the man’s shirt. He drew out his knife, cut through the leather thong, and slipped the key off.
Tirol smiled. He’d done it!
A hand grabbed his wrist. The grip was like steel shackles, immovable. The man’s eyes were trying to open as his mouth formed slurred words.
“Who… are… you…?” the man said, eyes just barely breaking open, head lifted slightly. Then they sagged closed again and he fell back. The grip on Tirol’s arm loosened.
Tirol tried to pull away, but the grip returned a moment later, the man’s eyes opening again.
“What’ve you… done?” Came the thick voice, the words barely distinguishable. “Why can’t I…?” The grip grew tighter. Tirol winced in pain as bones threatened to break. “Who. Are. You?” Each word was forced, almost a yell as the man levered himself onto his elbow.
Gods, but Tirol hated magic! Why did his sleeping dust have to fail this one time!
The man fell back a bit, that last effort seeming a great strain for him. Yet, still he didn’t let Tirol go.
Another voice piped up. “Who are you? Are you here to help us?”
Tirol looked to see the other woman, Senia, awake.
He smiled. “Yes.” And he tossed her the key. It landed in her lap, a perfect throw. “Free yourself and Wyllea, then get the hell out of here, before this maniac is fully awake!” He didn’t quite know until the words had come out exactly what they meant. But as he heard them, they just felt right. Yes, he might die — well almost certainly would die — but as long as Wyllea escaped, he’d be at peace with that choice.
Senia started on the bindings with the key.
The hand on his wrist tightened. Tirol turned back to the man, gritting his teeth as his muscle and flesh compressed. Tears came to his eyes, so intense was the pain. The man’s hand tightened, crushing bone, demolishing Tirol’s wrist and hand. Tirol screamed, a desperate howl of pain even to his own ears. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move. It felt like his hand was made solely of sharp, biting pain.
“What is this?” the man next to him bellowed and started to rise, bringing Tirol with him. The man got to his feet, still unsteady, jerking Tirol to stand with him. The man’s other hand caught Tirol’s neck just under his jaw, forcing Tirol’s face upward to meet the large man’s gaze. “Who do you think you are, little man? Coming into my camp and…”
“Emberthorn!” Senia called, and in the dark of the night a blue light erupted from somewhere behind him.
The man before him cursed, glaring at Tirol. “This is your fault!” With that, the man released his wrist, and the hand at his neck squeezed, lifting him off his feet like he was nothing at all, then tossed him like a rag. Tirol gasped for air, his breath not coming as he flew through the air. Then his head hit something hard. He was aware only long enough to feel his body collapse to the ground in a heap before darkness took him.
Chapter 11
Wyllea came awake as someone shook her.
The woman next to her had undone their bindings and was saying something. “Quickly, call your bow, we only have…”
“What’s this?” the dark warrior bellowed from across the clearing, drawing Wyllea’s attention away.
The man had Tirol!
He stood, unsteady, heaving Tirol up with him. He grabbed Tirol’s throat and said, “Who do you think you are, little man? Coming into my camp and…”
Then the woman next to her stood in one quick motion, saying, “Emberthorn!” In that instant a massive sword appeared in her hands, a great blue flame coming to life on its blade.
Call my name! Eaglewing sent to her.
Yet before she could, the man said something to Tirol then tossed him into the night like a doll. Tirol tumbled through the air, slammed into a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing, and crashed, limp, to the ground.
Things were happening too fast.
The other man drew his sword, its shadowed blade hard to see in the night, and strode toward them. Senia stood proud and ready, a grim smile on her face.
Call me!
Right! Sorry.
“Eaglewing!” And there was the bow in her hand. But she had no arrows.
You need no ammunition now that we’re bonded, simply draw the string as if you had an arrow, and one will appear.
Oh!
She did so, and an arrow of green light formed, ready to fire. She fired.
The man knocked it away with his sword as he drew closer, though this time, he seemed to twitch and wince when he did.
This is useless!
No, it’s not. You must keep trying. Though I’ve never sensed anyone like this man before, he won’t be able to evade your shots forever. He’ll make a mistake, they all do.
He didn’t the last time.
He wasn’t fighting another scion at the same time the last time.
True, but there is something I have to do first.
The dark warrior was upon them. His blade met the other woman’s. So began a fight of such fury and speed that even with her advanced senses it was only just possible for Wyllea to follow each move. They seemed to be fairly evenly matched, and since she had other concerns at the moment, she let them fight. She did fire off three quick arrows just to distract the large man, but he deflected them without even changing his pattern of moves against Senia, smooth and easy. Gods, but he was good.
Wyllea dashed into the brush, trying to remember where she’d left her pack.
What about the fight? Eaglewing asked. She didn’t need to ask Wyllea what she was doing, both were very aware of the plan.
She’s fine for the moment, and Tirol’s life is more important.
True.
With Eaglewing’s enhanced night sight, she located it quick enough and scrounged inside until she found the small vial she was looking for. Then she raced back to the clearing.
She spared a glance to see how the woman was doing. She was holding her own. At this point, it seemed neither of the two had the upper hand. That said, the man still seemed to be slightly groggy and only just getting up to speed. Wyllea had the suspicion that if she didn’t help soon he would quickly get the upper hand.
She went to Tirol and knelt next to him. He didn’t look good. His one hand was a bruised mess, bleeding from several places where bone had broken skin. His throat was similarly bruised and his breathing forced. Then there was his head where he’d hit the tree. A large open gash across his forehead poured blood across one-half of his face.
Wyllea slapped him, hard, and with her enhanced strength from Eaglewing, it would have been a significant blow.
He woke, eyes wide then quickly going glassy, but it was enough. He was conscious, and she popped the stopper on the vial and poured all of what remained down his throat. He drank. The wound on his forehead puckered and closed. The bruises at his throat and wrist disappeared, and the wrist filled out from its crushed state, closing all open wounds.
Scion Rising (The Guardians of Light Book 2) Page 6
