The Slave War

by James E. Wisher

  “Just like that?” The father shook his head. “The soldiers told us you’ve been burning farms and killing the owners. Why would you let us go?”

  “That’s a different group,” Yaz said. “We just want our friends and family back. Once we have her, our business with you is finished.”

  “We saved for two years to afford someone to help out around the farm.” He brightened a fraction. “Maybe you could buy her back? If you buy her, then there’s no reason for us to be enemies.”

  “Alright.” Yaz tossed a silver scale onto the bed. “There, now let her go.”

  “We paid ten gold for this slave.”

  “For the gods’ sake, Ral,” the mother said. “Just let the woman go and end this. We managed before we bought a slave and we’ll manage without her.”

  Ral sighed, lowered his knife, and pushed Brigid’s mother toward her. “Take her and go, before I change my mind.”

  Brigid hugged her mother and cried a little on her shoulder. It felt beyond good to have her back. “Are you okay? Your arm…”

  “I’m fine, dear. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Go ahead,” Yaz said. “I’ll catch up with you in a moment. I need to discuss one more matter with Ral.”

  Brigid found her throat suddenly dry. It was stupid to worry about the people that enslaved her mother, but she didn’t want anything to happen to the little girl. She was innocent in all this.

  “Yaz…”

  He offered a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to talk. He did the right thing in the end.”

  She nodded and led her mother out and downstairs. Yaz’s words had lifted a weight off her shoulders. Now if she could only find her father.

  Yaz waited until Brigid and her mother had gone then turned to Ral and his family. Ral clutched his knife and stood in front of his wife and daughter, shaking but determined to protect them. It was the first thing the man had done to earn Yaz’s respect.

  “If any soldiers should come, you’ll tell them you sold your slave and make no mention of us. If our faces end up on any wanted posters, I’ll come back here, and you don’t want me to come back here, right?”

  “No,” Ral said. “I don’t.”

  “Good. My advice is to hire someone to help around the house if you really need them and forget about owning slaves. It’s a dangerous practice.”

  “It didn’t use to be,” Ral said. “My father kept a pair of slaves to work his farm. An occasional beating kept them properly obedient. I don’t know what this kingdom is coming to when a man can have his property stolen like this.”

  “Your property is an innocent woman who had the misfortune to be kidnapped and sold.” Yaz shook his head and slipped his daggers into their sheaths. “I could batter you both senseless, take your daughter to Port Steel, and sell her. No one would ask any questions or care. How would you feel about that? Think long and hard about it the next time you consider buying a slave.”

  Yaz turned and stalked out. Silas fell in beside him as he marched down the stairs. The wizard had been silent during the entire standoff.

  “Fat lot of help you were,” Yaz said.

  “Brigid’s mother was too close to Ral for me to risk a spell and anything I did to the wife or daughter was only likely to make things worse. Everything worked out okay.”

  “Yeah, but it’s only a matter of time before something goes very wrong. We’ve been lucky.”

  “How many more stops?” Silas asked.

  At the bottom of the steps Yaz paused and accessed his mental library. “Fifteen more at six farms including swinging back around for Cal Chase. We’ve also got to go to Carttoom City to find the sages. That one’s going to be tricky. Then there’s the dragonriders. They’re not even in Carttoom anymore.”

  “The riders are the most apt to know where your father is, right?”

  “Hopefully. Neither of my parents’ names were in the ledger which worries me. If they didn’t survive the raid…”

  “Keep the faith,” Silas said. “There was no sign of battle in your village. They must have been taken alive the same as everyone else. We’ll find them.”

  “Thanks.”

  Yaz rubbed his eyes. They’d accomplished a lot regardless of the blood they shed. He could see the end, but it was a way off.

  Outside, the sun had fully risen. Brigid and her mom stood a little apart from the collected villagers. Yaz angled their way.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Dahl?” Yaz had noticed the bandage on her arm earlier. “If you’re injured, I can take a look. My mother taught me a little about healing.”

  Mrs. Dahl seemed uncertain how to respond.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Brigid said. “Yaz is nice. He won’t bite.”

  Her arm shook as she held it out. “It’s not a wound. After the last group of soldiers came, Master Ral branded me. I overheard them talking. All slave owners are being ordered to brand their slaves so the border guards can tell who’s trying to cross into Rend.”

  Yaz grimaced. This was a complication they didn’t need. Walking across with the regular traffic would be impossible now.

  “I’d still like to take a look if you don’t mind. A burn can become infected as well as a cut.”

  “Go ahead.” Mrs. Dahl looked away as he began to unwrap the bandage.

  Whoever looked after her had done a good job. The bandage was neat and clean. He winced in sympathy as he gently pulled the last six inches off. The cloth stuck a bit as it came free, drawing a hiss from Brigid’s mother.

  A set of ugly, red manacles had been burned into her forearm. At least there didn’t appear to be any infection. The other villagers had moved closer and an angry mutter ran through them when they saw what had been done to her. Brigid was the angriest of all. She glared back at the house, possibly regretting letting the family off as easily as they did.

  As he wrapped the wound back up Yaz said, “It looks clean. Just to be sure, I’ll mix a poultice when we make camp tonight. That should help with the pain as well.”

  “No need to go to any trouble on my account,” Mrs. Dahl said.

  Yaz flashed his best smile. “It’s no trouble. Like my father always said, the people of Dragonspire Village take care of their own.”

  Chapter 17

  Moz wasn’t sure how long he’d been napping when Mariel finally shook him awake. Her scowling, wrinkled face wouldn’t have been his first choice for a sight to wake up to. He sneezed and sat up in the chair. Some strange incense filled the hut.

  “What is that smell?” Moz asked.

  “Protection. The magic of the incense will keep the demon from seeing or entering my home. This shack is enough of a mess without adding a demon. I’ve made the necessary preparations. Sunset is still an hour or so away. If you’re hungry, you should eat. You’ll need all your strength for the battle tonight and so will I.”

  “I could eat,” Moz said. “What’ve you got?”

  She rustled up a pair of battered bowls and spoons and scooped something out of a pot sitting on top of the stove. With the heavy stink of incense filling the air, he hadn’t even noticed dinner bubbling away. Mariel handed him the bowl then poured them more tea. She sat across from him and began eating.

  Moz studied the contents of his bowl in the dim light.

  “It’s root vegetables and grouse meat cooked in stock made from the bones. I flavored it with wild garlic. Very healthy.”

  Moz sighed. It wasn’t as if anything else was on offer and all he’d eaten since leaving the border village was jerky, hardtack, and water. He took a bite and found the stew far tastier than he expected from its appearance.

  When he’d eaten half his bowl, Mariel said, “The demon is close, Moz. When I was preparing the ritual, I could sense its corrupt presence. It’s hovering just outside our reality, waiting for darkness to settle in so it can strike. The creature’s hunger is sickening.”

  Moz lowered his spoon. “Can you beat it?”

  “Of course I can
beat it.” He restrained a grin at her indignant reply. “What do you take me for, some hedge witch? I simply wished to warn you that this was going to be a difficult fight.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I knew it was going to be a tough battle when I first crossed swords with the bastard. At least now I have you to watch my back. Thanks again for doing this, Mariel. I know it’s not your fight.”

  “Hah! Creatures like the shadowalker have no place among the living. Eliminating such horrors is the fight of all right-thinking people with the power to make a difference. I would have taken on this battle even had a total stranger showed up at my door asking for help.”

  “Well, I’m grateful for the help all the same.”

  They finished their meal in silence. What more was there to say? When the time came, they’d fight and either win or die.

  About a third of the sun remained above the horizon when Moz and Mariel stepped out of her hut. She’d been busy while he was sleeping. A giant magical circle about twenty yards in diameter had been inscribed in the earth outside. It glowed with a warm, golden light. The energy it gave off filled Moz with strength.

  “Will the demon enter the circle of its own accord?” he asked. “This is obviously a trap.”

  “It’s already inside the circle. I told you the demon was close. It could have fled when I began casting, but the arrogant thing chose to remain, allowing itself to be trapped. That sort of arrogance is common among demons when they’re threatened by mortals. They never imagine they can lose until the instant of their deaths.”

  “There are plenty of men that think the same way. I killed a couple of them just recently. Do you have a strategy?”

  “You can’t help me fight the demon. And I won’t be in any position to help you with the assassin. In fact, I’ll be defenseless against physical attacks, so you’ll need to keep the human half of the partnership well away from me.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  The last of the light died leaving them with just the magic circle’s glow to see by. A wavering darkness formed and a moment later the dark-robed figure of the assassin emerged through it. He looked around at the setting and then at Moz and Mariel.

  “This isn’t the place I would have chosen for our final showdown,” the assassin said. “But I suppose it will have to do.”

  The curved blade of his dagger flashed in the light.

  Moz drew his own swords.

  Before the battle could begin, the assassin’s cloak went rigid around him. The cowl pulled back from his face as it slowly peeled away.

  “What are you doing to us?” the assassin demanded.

  Without the cloak hiding his face, he looked far too young to be a professional killer. His face was smooth and free of stubble. A dusting of freckles covered his nose and cheeks. If he was a day over twenty-one Moz would sell his skiff.

  Beside him, Mariel had her hands raised and a glow to match the circle filled her hands. The cloak had nearly finished separating itself from the assassin when twin lances of energy shot out from her hands and pierced it through.

  The assassin screamed as though he was the one that had been struck. Mariel ripped the last points of contact off the kid’s back. The shadowalker was quickly wrapped in a golden bubble that began to collapse. Black spikes shot out of it as he tried to fight her spell.

  “Bitch!” the assassin hissed. “I’ll gut you for this indignity.”

  Moz shifted a few feet so he was directly between the assassin and Mariel. “Let’s see what sort of fighter you are without the demon’s magic, boy.”

  “No more games, old man,” the assassin said. “This time I’m going to kill you and then your friend.”

  “You talk a lot. What’s the matter, trying to work up the nerve to make a move now that you’re all alone?”

  “Argh!” The assassin charged, just as Moz hoped. Angry men seldom made good decisions.

  Angry or not, the kid fought with the same skill he’d shown in their first battle. His dagger flashed in and out, quick as a striking snake.

  Moz turned aside each blow. Without the flowing cloak blocking his view, the assassin’s movements were easier to predict.

  Easier being the key word. It still took all of Moz’s skill and experience to avoid the glittering steel.

  As each successive attack failed, the assassin’s youthful face twisted into an even angrier snarl. For his part, Moz was content to defend and wait for an opening. Every second he bought gave Mariel more time to destroy the shadowalker.

  After thirty seconds of furiously attacking Moz to no effect, the kid was panting hard and his strikes were coming more slowly.

  The assassin leapt away, reached behind his back, and hurled a throwing knife.

  Moz smashed it out of the air and charged. Time to see if the kid was as good on defense as he was on offense.

  Moz’s blades wove an intricate path of death. High and low, crisscrossing left and right, thrusts and slashes all combined to force his opponent back.

  What would happen when he reached the edge of the magic circle? Mariel never said. He was about to find out the hard way.

  The assassin’s back struck the magical barrier. Golden energy crackled and he twisted and writhed like a bug trying to escape a spider’s web.

  Moz wanted to finish him off but feared getting caught up in the magic. Better to keep his distance and stay ready. The moment the assassin got loose, Moz would be there to strike.

  The moment the shadowalker became fully encapsulated in her spell, Mariel lost all awareness of Moz and the assassin. If the ranger failed to keep the demon’s human partner away, she’d be helpless. Not that she doubted Moz’s abilities for a moment, nevertheless, being totally dependent on someone else for her safety wasn’t a position Mariel liked.

  “You should worry less about my host and more about yourself.” The shadowalker’s guttural, inhuman voice pained her ears. “Your magic is strong for a human but you are no match for me.”

  The demon lashed out, trying to pierce her spell and free itself. She flinched at every impact, its evil touch burning her soul through the link connecting her to the magic. Uncomfortable as it was, Mariel had endured far worse pain over the years.

  “I’ve killed plenty of demons. There’s nothing special about your power. You’re an average example of your corrupt kind. Soon enough you’ll be back in Hell where you belong.”

  She made a fist, shrinking the bubble and crushing the demon into a small clump.

  It spun, trying to saw its way free.

  Mariel grunted against the pain and squeezed again. Every time the bubble shrank, a little more of the demon was burned away. Its core was still well protected, but she’d get to it soon enough. Her will and determination powered the magic and she had plenty of both.

  When the bubble had shrunk by half, the demon hissed. “I can grant you power, human. Your magic, augmented by my abilities, would make you powerful enough to challenge the five elemental dragons. You could be the most powerful wizard of your generation. Revenge against all those who wronged you is within your reach.”

  She would have laughed if her concentration had allowed it. The five elemental dragons were the most powerful wizards in the world. This demon was even more arrogant than most of his kind if he thought whatever enhancements he might offer her were enough to raise her to that level.

  Another squeeze shrank the bubble further. She was vaguely aware of sweat beading on her forehead as the spell drained her strength. Clenching her jaw, Mariel forced her growing exhaustion out of her mind. Weakness only existed if you acknowledged it. Mind over matter defined wizardry. Her will was stronger than her body.

  But oh was she going to pay for this tomorrow and probably for a few days after that.

  A couple more squeezes brought her to within inches of the demon’s core. It wouldn’t be long now and their battle would end in the only way it could, with her defeating the monster. Just as she was about to apply the final blow a
jolt ran through her. Something had triggered her binding circle.

  Her focus wavered for only an instant, but when it did the demon struck with all its remaining strength. Her bubble shattered and her awareness returned to the real world. The blackness was rushing at Moz’s back as he faced the assassin who was trapped in the barrier.

  “Moz! Look out!”

  Moz dove to his right when Mariel screamed, an unthinking reaction to a comrade’s shout. It was well that he did. A moment later what looked like a writhing black octopus made of cloth flew through the space he’d occupied a moment earlier.

  The demon didn’t veer off its path, instead slamming into the assassin’s chest and trying to burrow its way inside. Blood, flesh, and bone flew every which way. The way the young man screamed was beyond human. Moz had seen and heard some horrible things in his time on the battlefield, but this would haunt his dreams for as long as he lived.

  He pulled himself to his feet and hurried away from the screaming assassin. He joined Mariel on the far side of the circle. She looked a bit gray and wan. Her magical battle with the shadowalker had taken a toll.

  “You okay?” Moz asked.

  “I’m alive, though for how much longer I don’t know.”

  “What happened?”

  “When the assassin struck my barrier, it created a momentary distraction. It wasn’t much, but at the end of our battle it was enough to allow the demon to escape.” She shook her head. “I must be getting old. I never would have let that happen twenty years ago.”

  “Done is done,” Moz said. He offered no words of comfort and doubted they’d be welcome if he did. “What’s that thing doing to him now?”

  “The shadowalker needs a body, something to house its core after I destroyed most of the old one. When it finishes, the human will be no more, only the demon will remain.”

  “Okay, how do we kill a demon living in a human body?”

  “The same way you kill a demon living in anything, destroy its core. I lack the power to bind it a second time, but I can enchant your blades. You’ll need to stab the core through the human’s body.”