by BJ Hanlon
He felt for the ethereal light, the spirit and energy inside him. He felt the tiniest of tugs in his gut and placed a hand beneath his back. After a quick breath he flung it forward into the woods. About a foot into the forest, the light exploded and blinded him. There was a white and gray imprint on his eyes. In that imprint, he had barely a moment to look around. Edin saw trees, bushes, grasses but nothing that seemed unnatural.
Edin dropped to his knee and rolled to the right just in case someone was going to loose an arrow in his direction.
The only sound was a sort of barking and braying call followed by crashing through the woods. He waited a minute, rubbed his eyes and then looked out.
The woods were again still with nothing but a few branches swaying near chest height. The animal was gone and his breath began to return to an even pace.
Edin spent about a half hour gathering wood, he made piles on either side of the entrance while he continued to search for more. Finally, he had a good pile and brought it inside and started a nice cozy fire.
Smoke rose from the logs in small gray puffs. He didn’t know the unending, smokeless fire spell and even so, he just wanted to watch the smoke rise. A part of him wanted this to be a normal, mundane fire.
And it was. He moved the bench over and sat on the floor before it. He leaned his back against the hard wood and closed his eyes. The flames warmed his feet and slowly the room. The white cloak kept his body a perfect temperature. It was a great gift for a man of the north, but he didn’t think he’d be in the north much longer.
It was an inkling. Like that twinkling star in the vast black sky. But where did he go? Did he stay here while they build the wall? Did he await orders from Sinndilo or a knife in the back from one of the zealots?
Sticking around would probably not do much for his longevity.
“Arianne,” he whispered as he waited for sleep to take him. “Come to me…” He said and tried to send out his thoughts, his prayers, his feelings and whatever else he could like a fishing line for her to snag. Maybe she could catch it and reel him in.
It hadn’t worked so far, but there was the hope that maybe tonight she’d come back.
There was shouting and bells from somewhere outside. The sound was far off but still woke him as if someone were banging a drum just above his head.
Edin blinked and quickly sat up. The dim lighthouse was lit by an early cloudy sky. Dust motes hung in the air next to cobwebs or spider webs. He hoped it was the former. Edin pulled himself up and saw the fire in the hearth had burned nearly to ashes.
Edin gave the cloak a quick brushing with his hand and started for the door. As he moved, he saw the bottle of whiskey. It was open and after a quick search of his trousers, he found the stopper and plugged it up. He checked the room, replaced the bench, not really certain why, and headed once more toward the door. As he did, something seemed to tickle in his brain. Something from the night previously. A dream.
One of a man that was familiar, and one of Arianne.
His mind was twisting in the thought as he exited through the only door of the tall gray lighthouse. He dropped the few steps down to the path and began walking, things moved around but he was thinking, stuck in his own head.
A moment later, he felt it. The suppression of the talent.
It came at him like a thousand-pound bull and rushed over him. It was more than one, more than two.
Edin’s eyes widened as he saw the men appearing from the bushes and coming down the path. He heard shuffling behind and could see more rounding the sides of the lighthouse trying to press him in.
There were seven, Edin counted that many, though only three were Por Fen. The rest were some of the soldiers, Duke’s Guard, including Arsholnol. The big bearded man stood at the center of the path, back to the city with his two-handed greatsword drawn and resting on his shoulder like a pick does a miner.
“Well look here, a beast has emerged from the sea.” Arsholnol said.
“It seems there’s a problem in the town,” Edin said. “Shouldn’t you be helping out your betters, you know, like the muckrakers?”
A man to his right snorted.
Edin’s eyes darted that way. He saw a Por Fen out of the corner of his vision. It was one he’d seen before, one who’d fought only a few yards away from him during the Battle. He wore the badge of a justicar, while the other two had ranger badges. He didn’t know the name, but he was bald, they all were, and had upturned eyes and a creepy half grin that made him look like he had a stroke.
“That isn’t something that needs many people. Just a little fire at an old residence. One that is used to a little burning,” Arsholnol said with a grin.
Edin’s chest pounded. He glanced back up at the town and saw the long line of smoke. He could hear the faint shouts of men. His friends…
Edin looked back at the smirking Arsholnol.
“If you hurt them—”
Arsholnol waived a hand cutting Edin off. “Be honest, do you really think you can take us all on and live? You sucker punched us yesterday, but we were close and not expecting it. Now, you have us as well as three terrins and a pair of wan stones to stopper your damned abilities.” He grinned then lowered his voice. “Maybe you worked some magic and convinced a few of our leaders that you should be allowed to live.”
“A damned abominable curse if ya ask me.” Said the justicar.
Arsholnol continued, “but I highly doubt they’d be too upset when you are killed. You’re an abomination, just like your one-armed father. When you’re all wiped out, that is when we will take the fight to the dematians and free the lands. We will prove once again that there is no need for abominations, that there is no need for your evil in this world. We will survive, and we will thrive!” His voice began rising like some commander giving a battlefield speech to rouse the troops.
And it worked. The men, even the Por Fen, all cried in unison while raising their swords and in one case, a quarterstaff. Edin spied it started wishing he had that dematian’s horsehead knife.
But he’d take that staff of the man anyway.
The quarterstaff man was a Por Fen, but was he a terrin? That was the real question.
Edin heard movement and flicked his eyes back toward another one. The justicar he’d recognized. He was stepping forward slowly with his sword off to the side and holding it in both hands.
“Wait!” Edin said shouting and putting his hands up to stop them. He was still a bit groggy from the booze and sore from sleeping at the weird angle, half against the bench and half on the floor.
For some reason, the men stopped. All of them. He took off his cloak rolled it up and turned, tossing it off to the side.
Edin drew his sword and stretched his neck side to side. “Alright, who wants to die first?”
“You.” The voice was quick and the movement quicker.
Edin felt the air coming as the terrin on the other side of him, the quarterstaff one, was now barely three feet away. Edin dropped to his rear and rolled backward. As his feet came up, he caught the down stroke of the staff in the arch of his right foot. A slapping, stinging pain ran through him and he winced as he completed the roll all the way over and landed a foot from the tower entrance.
The other ranger, a young guy, a terrin, came at him with his sword. He tried a slash across Edin’s body. A twist with the blade and Edin stopped it in mid-strike. Then the ranger twisted it and thrust it at Edin’s heart trying to pop him like a blister.
Edin leapt back up the stairs and stood just before the door that led into the lighthouse. He slammed a foot back and the door ripped open and crashed against the wall.
The rest of the men were moving now, converging on him and the lighthouse. One of them leapt toward him; he was a normal warrior, but he was fast. Edin lifted his blade to block when his vision went white for a moment. He felt the strike and heard the clang of swords.
Then a moment later, he could see again. He was two feet into the building and he continued backing up. He swayed hi
s blade back and forth as the one who’d just attacked tried again. This time, Edin stepped sideways, caught the blade with a flick and sent it skywards. He twisted his sword over and thrust it into the man’s exposed throat.
The man gurgled on his own blood and as Edin pulled it out, he caught another flash. This one of darkness. Blackness.
Someone screamed, a battle cry scream. One that roared for vengeance and Edin was taken back out of the vision.
What was happening?
Another two men were entering, the Por Fen quarterstaffer and one of the other guards. Edin blocked the staff strike down, but a moment later, was nearly caught off guard by a flick up with the other end. Edin lifted a leg and caught it in the shin.
The thwack sent rivulets of angry pain exploding through his mind as he wildly swung his sword to the right trying to block the guard’s downward slice.
He swiped and missed intercepting the guard’s attack, however, an instant later, the guard missed also. The weapons flying by each other like bats in the night.
For a moment, they seemed to have both completely failed. But then Edin’s wild wave slashed through the man’s side and lodged beneath his arm. He cried out and fell backward attempting to rip Edin’s sword from his hand.
Then Edin saw out of the corner of his eye, a sideways strike from the quarterstaffer aimed at smashing his skull like schoolboys did pumpkins.
Letting go of his sword, Edin quickly ducked it and felt the wind toss his hair like they were on the outskirts of a tornado. He balled a fist. A flash went through and instead of seeing nothing, he saw his fist outlined in white. Edin knew he hadn’t had to call upon it in a while. It took a split second.
He felt the twisting way down low in his gut. For some reason, it hurt terribly, but he needed it. It was like someone was twisting his intestines around a spit for a dinner of slow cooked entrails.
Edin roared and threw everything he had into the punch. The ethereal punch.
A moment later, he caught the look of the quarterstaff-wielding ranger. His eyes bulged as he flew up and backward like he was launched from a trebuchet. His back was toward the open door and he was thrown up until he slammed into the crossbeam above the open door.
The justicar had seen what was happening and ducked the flying, lifeless legs, but while the legs made it outside, the torso didn’t. The top half hit the wall above the door frame and a loud crack thundered through the lighthouse.
It struck with such force, Edin didn’t know if the crack was from the man or the wall of the lighthouse.
Then the Por Fen quarterstaffer dropped. He landed hard on the other ranger and the pair of them nearly took out the justicar who was again attempting to enter.
The justicar leapt off the porch and, with the three remaining soldiers, stared at Edin. They all had stopped.
At Edin’s feet was the quarterstaff and a few feet to his right, he saw his sword Mirage.
“What in the name of the gods!” one of the soldiers shouted. “He can beat the wan stones.”
“He’s a monster!” said another, the small man from the day earlier. The man dropped his sword and turned. As he started to run Arsholnol spun on him and threw something. It clacked the man in the back and he stumbled and crashed to the ground.
“You coward, Cheli.” The man scrambled up to his feet and kept running. The other guard looked at Arsholnol then at the justicar.
The justicar leveled a sword at Edin. “The abomination murdered one of the faithful and two of the Duke’s guards. Slay him,” he shouted, waiving a hand over his head and running in.
Edin scooped up the quarterstaff and was about to go for his sword when the justicar appeared only a few feet away.
He too was fast. Terrin fast.
The world slowed. Edin dodged a series of slashes and thrusts. He blocked a single downward strike and reversed the momentum to come over the top with the bottom of the quarterstaff. Edin felt a tingling in the gut and saw the white illumination appear at the end of the weapon.
So did the Por Fen.
He leapt out of the way just in time as Edin continued all the way through with the strike. It hit the floor with such force that the building shook.
Slowly, the world came to normal speed as there was a rocking feeling in the tower. All three remaining attackers were inside now and looking around nervously.
A large black crack appeared above the door. It was jagged and surrounding it were much more minor cracks in the general shape of an oval. Or that of a torso. Edin thought. Wood and whatever was used to keep the heat in and the cold out, fell.
To one side, he heard the whiskey bottle fall and clatter to the ground before starting the roll. Edin stepped back and noticed the Por Fen ranger pushing himself to his feet from beneath the dead quarterstaffer.
The other three men glared as the fourth reached their side.
“Are you okay?” Asked the justicar to the ranger who nodded once. Curt and with intensity. His eyes were burning flames at Edin, all of theirs were.
Edin felt his back to the fire. A real fire but one that was small and piddly. That didn’t matter, he could feel the warmth. Then, a moment later the rolling of the bottle stopped as it hit his foot.
The men all looked at each other and then there was a scream.
“Ahh!” It came from the justicar. He, the other Por Fen, and Arsholnol all charged Edin with wild banshee-like attacks.
The world slowed as they pulsed toward him. Edin stepped to the side. He felt something brush against his heel as he spread his hands and blocked an attack parallel to the ground from the ranger. It was an attack that was aimed at separating his top half from his bottom half. Edin lashed out a kick at the slow moving Arsholnol.
Why he was here, Edin didn’t quite know. But he felt the big bearded man’s gut flop around his toes as his eyes widened in a slow and confused pace. The big man left his feet for a moment, very slowly, and began to stumble.
Edin didn’t use the power on the kick, but he could have. Then he turned back to the two remaining Por Fen and the last warrior who was taking it easy and not attacking.
Maybe he was on a break.
The justicar and the ranger were not.
They were attacking quickly. Both were terrins, that he was now certain. As the justicar tried to cut at his hip, he slammed the staff down a foot from his right leg and held on tight. The sword of the Por Fen struck it and the reverberation fluttered through his body. Edin kicked the bottom of the stick for power and it whipped up and caught the justicar between the legs.
He yelped and dropped.
Behind him, there was a whoosh. It was slow at first but then Edin noticed it got really warm, really fast. And it was all concentrated near his back and his foot.
Edin glanced down and saw the river of fire running a half foot from him and toward Arsholnol. Edin leapt away and dodged the ranger’s thrust followed by a weaker slash and flick up toward Edin’s throat. Edin brought the staff down and it caught the man’s leg. There was a giant snap and the man dropped. A moment later, he rolled and his shoulder was in the fire. The fire grew even more and the justicar screamed at the soldiers. “Get him or I’ll kill you and your families!” He shouted as Arsholnol and the last warrior were beginning to back up.
They didn’t stop and the justicar saw that. “If I don’t, he will.” The man said pointing the tip of his sword at Edin.
The ranger was rolling on the ground trying to put out the flames but Edin saw that would be a futile process. His black cloak had been soaked in something that went up like oil, or whiskey.
Edin backed up and felt a bit more of the talent. He reached out and felt the fire and let it grow, willed it to grow, but the wan stones were still pushing back not letting him really direct it. It was like trying to control a forest fire.
The flames caught on the walls and began to climb and then spread. Then Edin hit something with his foot. He turned back and saw the first of the stairs that led up to the top
of the lighthouse. Edin saw the worried looks on the soldiers and the wild and angry look on the justicar.
“Arsholnol, you wanted him, get him!” the justicar shrieked over his shoulder, his eyes were wide and Edin guessed that if he had hair it’d all be standing on end.
Arsholnol somehow seemed diminished. The big duke’s guard didn’t seem to want to come at Edin anymore. He didn’t seem to want to come at anyone anymore. His eyes, so fearless and angry ten minutes before were as wide as the bottom of an ale stein. “Now!” the justicar shrieked again.
Edin noticed the ranger ripping off his black cloak and black tunic then scrambling back and toward the far wall on hands and booted feet. He wore only his undertrousers. Down his right side was an angry red burn that looked to be only moments from blistering. Edin took another step back and up onto the stairs.
The justicar leapt toward him, Edin parried the strike and the justicar retreated. It was a probing strike, one to make him move. To make him climb. Then the other soldier and Arsholnol moved toward him.
“You up first.” The justicar said pushing Arsholnol into his place.
Arsholnol stabbed and Edin stepped up and back again not even having to parry the attack with the quarterstaff. He could see what the justicar wanted to do, maybe even what Arsholnol wanted.
Then the justicar pushed the other soldier onto the stairs.
Smoke was beginning to rise. Gray, putrid smoke. Edin thought about leaping beneath the small bannister to the floor but the ranger, half naked and torched, was on his feet and pointing his blade at Edin like an arrow ready to be shot. Edin took another step up after another probing strike from Arsholnol. Behind him, the other soldier was now beginning to climb.
Edin parried the strike and glared at Arsholnol. “You know the Por Fen aren’t going to follow you. They’re going to hope we all die in the fire.” Edin looked over the soldiers and then toward the justicar. “Isn’t that right?”
The justicar moved to the base of the stairs and pointed his sword at the back of the soldier. “Get him!” he shrieked again, a wild manic look in the man’s creepy eyes. “Kill him!”
