The warrior brought its sword up to block the strike. There was a loud crack and its rusted sword snapped into fragments, flying through the air. Karus was astonished when his sword slashed deep into the rusted armor and beyond, as if he were cutting through butter with a hot knife. There was a flaring of blue light from the warrior’s empty eye sockets, and then the skeleton collapsed, bones noisily clattering to the cement floor along with the metal breastplate, which made a solid clunking noise.
Karus’s hand gripping the sword felt funny. It tingled, and not in the way it would from a blow. The hilt grew warm in his hand. It was an odd sensation, in that both the tingling and warmth traveled rapidly up his arm and seemed to infuse his body. It happened so quickly that he wondered if he’d just imagined it. The dimness in the guardhouse seemed to lighten ever so slightly.
And so, it begins.
Karus glanced around, wondering who had spoken. It almost seemed like it had been in his mind, much like with the dragons when they spoke. For a heartbeat, he wondered if the skeletal warrior had spoken to him. Then decided it hadn’t. The warrior was hastily backing out of the guardhouse, its sightless eye sockets fixed upon the sword in Karus’s hands. Outside, Karus could hear the desperate sound of the fighting, the ring of steel. Dennig called out an oath in his own language. It spurred Karus to action.
He lunged forward, attacking before the undead creature could slip out of the guardhouse. The warrior, it seemed, wanted nothing more than to get away from him. It didn’t even block Karus’s strike as it attempted to turn and flee. Karus’s sword slipped underneath the breastplate and connected with the spine. The moment it touched, the bones lost their cohesiveness and clattered to the ground, metal breastplate clunking down at his feet. Karus felt the tingle again in his hand and the warmth intensify, almost to the point of being uncomfortable.
You have awakened me, the disembodied voice spoke again. This time, he knew it was in his mind. The soul-bond has been forged. Feed me and together we become stronger, our wills become one. Forged for a purpose, forged for a reason, forged for a will. Your will is my will and mine is yours. Together we are one. WIELD ME.
Karus glanced down at the sword in his hand and realized that it was the sword that was speaking to him. The shock of it stunned him to his core. It also wasn’t the rusted thing he’d picked up. The blade was finely crafted, with runes etched up and down the sides. The balance was as perfect as one could ask. He marveled at the blade he held, wondering if in his haste he had grabbed the wrong weapon. No, that wasn’t right. How could he have not seen this piece of perfection when he had explored the guardhouse earlier? Surely, Dennig would have said something and pointed it out. No, this was the sword he had picked up, the only short sword that had been on the racks … it had transformed from rusted junk to a piece of infinite beauty.
Then he heard Amarra cry out. Karus’s head snapped up, all thoughts and questions on the sword’s transformation gone. He rushed to the doorway. The fight had spread out. Amarra had become separated from Si’Cara, who was fighting desperately against four of the skeletal warriors. Dennig was fighting an entire group. They were clustered tightly about him. All Karus could see of the dwarf was the axe as it swung. Wherever it landed, a shower of bones flew up into the air.
Amarra was facing two warriors, her staff held in her hands defensively as they advanced upon her. She was no fighter and Karus saw the staff was poorly held. If they survived this, he would have to take steps to correct that.
He stepped from the guardhouse, intent upon going to her aid. The warrior that had fallen was still on the ground, working to free itself from the vines. In a flash it was free and had pulled itself to its feet. It stared briefly at Karus with empty sockets and then turned in Amarra’s direction, clearly seeking easier prey. He was on it before it could take more than two steps. Karus jabbed out, taking the skeleton in the side. The bones again lost their cohesiveness and the warmth in the grip of his hand grew, almost white-hot.
More.
They were almost on Amarra. He ignored the pain and started to run as Amarra struck at one of the warriors with her staff. There was a blinding flash, and when it subsided, both warriors before her had collapsed to the ground. Smoke rose from their bones. Karus stumbled to a stop, astonished. Amarra appeared stunned by what she had done.
Si’Cara screamed. A warrior had gripped her shoulder from behind. With Amarra safe, Karus ran to Si’Cara as she fell to a knee. The warrior put a second hand on her. She screamed again in clear agony and shuddered violently. Karus’s sword hammered into the back of the skeleton. The bones rained downward and Si’Cara was suddenly free. She blocked a strike from another warrior that was intended for her neck, then swept her legs around, knocking the warrior from its feet. Karus struck at yet another warrior. Its bones fell to the ground the moment his sword connected. The hilt of the sword burned fiery hot, but Karus dared not let the weapon go.
“High Father, take this unfortunate soul into your keeping.” There was another flash of light. Amarra appeared at his side and struck down an undead warrior that had been about to skewer Si’Cara in the back as she was finishing the warrior on the ground. Then there were no more within reach.
Karus turned to Dennig, intent upon helping him. To his shock, only one skeletal warrior remained facing the dwarf. Incredibly, he’d brought them all down. Dennig jabbed the warrior with the end of his axe, knocking it down and onto its back. Concealed partially by the brush, he sliced downward once and then again and again and again until he finally stood back up, axe upon his shoulder, chest heaving. He surveyed the courtyard around him, searching for more foes to slay. All of the skeletal warriors were down, finished. They had won. Their eyes met and Karus saw Dennig’s widened slightly.
“Your sword,” the dwarf gasped between breaths and pointed with his axe. “It’s on fire.”
Karus glance downward and almost dropped the sword. He had not noticed that the blade was sheathed in blue flame, which licked the air soundlessly. No wonder it felt heated. It was incredible, amazing, and clearly magical. The hilt was still burning hot, but somehow, he knew it would not harm him. He looked back up at the dwarf and saw that both Si’Cara and Amarra were staring at him, gazes transfixed upon his sword.
“How are you doing that?” Dennig asked, stepping through the brush and approaching him.
“I don’t know,” Karus said. “I think it is the sword. When I lost mine, I grabbed this one in the guardhouse.”
“There wasn’t one in there like that,” Dennig said. “All of the swords were rusted beyond use. Where did you find it exactly?”
“I grabbed it from the rack,” Karus said. “It was rusted like all of the others.”
“You found that which we have sought.” Amarra sounded both relieved and pleased. “As the High Father commanded, you have taken Rarokan.”
Karus looked down at the sword in his hands. The fire coursing along the blade had begun to dim and then in a matter of heartbeats extinguished itself altogether. The hilt had cooled as well. He switched hands and saw that his palm was not burned. His gaze returned to the sword. It appeared like a normal blade now, although the weapon was exceptionally well-made and the balance was as perfect as one could ever want. The steel of the blade glinted brilliantly under the light from the two suns. Karus had never held a finer short sword. It was as if it had been made for him, and for a moment he considered that it might’ve been.
The High Father had arranged for it to come into his hands, had intended it all long. It was incredible and Karus felt deeply honored that he been entrusted with such a powerful weapon. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the High Father.
He looked back up at Amarra as she came nearer. She flashed him a pleased but weary smile and placed a hand upon his shoulder. He wiped some of the dust that coated them all from her cheek.
“We found it,” Karus said, feeling intense relief. He could finally return to his legion.
“Yes,�
� Amarra said, “yes, you did.”
“May I hold it?” Dennig asked. The dwarf held out an expectant hand.
Karus considered it a moment and saw no harm in the request. He handed the blade over, offering the hilt to the dwarf. As Dennig took the sword, his hand closing upon the hilt, he let loose a bellow of pain and dropped it, along with his axe. He held his hand close to his chest and blew on it.
“It burned me,” Dennig said, shaking his hand. “Darned thing burned me. Not too bad, but it damn well hurt, as if I’d touched a hot pan cooking bacon.”
“It is meant only for you,” Amarra said. “I think Rarokan recognizes its master, is all. While you live, you will be the only one to wield it. Anyone else who tries will suffer.”
Karus eyed the weapon, which was lying amongst the vines at their feet, partially concealed by the green leaves. He had not expected that. What was he dealing with here? It was almost certainly magic. Though he was honored to have been entrusted with Rarokan, magic made him terribly uncomfortable. And yet, he felt inexplicably drawn to the sword. It had nothing to do with the perfection of the weapon. There was something more to it. The sword had mentioned a bond. Was that it?
A little hesitantly, Karus bent down and picked the sword up. It didn’t burn, as it had the dwarf. He felt a tingle in his palm that rapidly raced up his arm. It was almost as if the sword was pleased to see him and this was its way of showing it. He decided Amarra was correct. Rarokan was meant for him alone and apparently would tolerate no other touch. He held the sword up, looking at its rune-etched blade. The sword was his and his alone.
“Tal’Thor,” Si’Cara said suddenly. She rushed back to where they’d left him.
They found the ranger sitting up and holding his head with both hands. He looked up at them a little blearily, blinking rapidly.
“What happened?” Tal’Thor asked, groaning a little. “I have a terrible headache.”
“We had a wee little scrap with the undead.” Dennig sauntered up. He thumped his chest with the hand he had tried to hold the sword with. The palm was slightly red, as the sword had given him a mild burn as a warning. The dwarf had retrieved his axe and leaned it upon his shoulder. “You missed out and I gained all the legend. That’s what happens when you snooze.”
“The undead?” Tal’Thor asked, feeling the wound on the top of his head. “What are you talking about?”
“It seems we triggered something that woke them when we tried to take the”—Karus could not think of a better word—“ghostly sword in the keep. It woke up the skeletal warriors that we passed on the way up to the fortress. They attacked us. We only just put them all down.”
Tal’Thor held out a hand to Si’Cara. She pulled him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a moment. She held on to him until he was able to manage on his own, though he still looked a little unsteady, his legs wobbly.
Si’Cara leaned forward, grabbed his face in her hands, and kissed him hard. He appeared startled by the sudden move, then gave into it, fully kissing her back. When they broke apart, she slapped him hard, knocking him back on his ass. Si’Cara shook a finger in his face as he looked back up at her, confusion plain. Then she stepped away toward Amarra.
“Karus also found the sword we’ve been looking for,” Dennig said as Tal’Thor got to his feet again. “If he were dvergr, I’d say he earned great legend this day.”
Tal’Thor glanced over at Karus, who held the sword up for the elf to see.
“I would advise against touching it,” Dennig said and showed his red palm. “It seems he is the only one able to hold it without injury.”
Tal’Thor gave a nod, like he had expected as much. He blinked several times and shook his head, as if trying to clear out the cobwebs from a deep sleep.
“I will keep my good old Bone Cleaver here, thank you very much,” Dennig said.
“You named it Bone Cleaver?” Karus asked.
“That’s what it did, and quite well, too,” Dennig said. “Can you think of a better name?”
“I suppose Doorknocker is out?”
Dennig grinned at him.
“What of the Warriors of Anagradoom?” Amarra asked, gazing around the overgrown courtyard. The brush still burned, though it did not appear to be spreading. “Where are they?”
Tal’Thor and Si’Cara exchanged a look.
“I do not know,” Si’Cara said. “They don’t seem to be here.” Her voice caught in her throat. She took a moment to clear it. “Perhaps they died long ago. We never did get to explore the keep’s underground.”
Karus glanced down once more at Rarokan and then sheathed it in his scabbard. It fit, perfectly. His old sword was still stuck in the breastplate of the skeletal warrior. He considered retrieving it, for the sword had served him well over the years. In the end, he decided against it. He had a new sword now, and it was infinitely better. His old one would remain here with the dead. Though it was a waste, somehow it seemed fitting, a sword for a sword.
“Where is my bow?” Tal’Thor looked around abruptly. “I don’t see it or my arrows.”
“Back there,” Karus said, pointing toward the rubble that shortly before had been the fortress’s keep. It was now a large pile of stone blocks, a serious ruin, matching the rest of the fortress. “I am afraid it is buried under all that.”
A sorrowful expression passed across Tal’Thor’s face as he regarded what was left of the keep. It was as if he had lost an old friend. In a way, Karus sympathized with him. He had mixed emotions about leaving his old sword behind.
“I made that bow myself,” Tal’Thor said.
“There was no time to go back for it,” Karus said.
“It was either you or the bow,” Dennig added. “Honestly, it was a tough choice. I could have sold the bow for some coin. You, I can’t. Elves make terrible slaves, or so I’ve been told.”
“You saved me?” Tal’Thor looked sharply at the dwarf.
“We both had a hand in it,” Dennig said with a shrug and gestured at Karus with his axe.
Tal’Thor grew silent, glancing down at the ground before looking up.
“Thank you,” he said to Dennig and Karus. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“What was that?” Dennig asked and held a hand to his ear. “I could not quite hear you. Can you say that again?”
Tal’Thor flushed, going scarlet in the face.
“That’s enough,” Karus said to the dwarf before hard words could be exchanged. “There is no need to rub it in.”
“The gods are the only ones who know the last time an elf properly thanked a dvergr,” Dennig said, looking over at Karus. “It never happens. I just wanted to hear it again, is all. There is no telling how many years may pass before such a noteworthy event occurs again.”
“I said that’s enough,” Karus snapped. “It may have been Tal’Thor saving your sorry ass instead of the other way around. You might be the one thanking him. Have you considered that?”
“Aye,” Dennig said, sobering. “You might be right at that.” He turned to the elf and grinned. “You are welcome, son.”
“There was a bow in the guardhouse,” Karus said to Tal’Thor. “It’s old, but …”
“It may still be good. We make bows to last.” Tal’Thor looked toward the guardhouse. He was still bleeding, though the flow had slackened considerably. He touched the wound gingerly and then looked at the blood on his hand, moving it across his fingers. “I think I will take a look at it before we depart.”
“I could heal you,” Amarra offered, stepping nearer.
“No,” Tal’Thor said. “It’s just a minor cut and a good bump. I would not have you waste the High Father’s attention on it. This wound should heal soon enough.”
“When we get back to camp,” Karus said, “I have some bandages. We will fix it right up.”
The elf gave a nod and then headed off toward the guardhouse. Si’Cara went with him. Karus saw her reach a hand out to his as they stepped through the entrance and di
sappeared inside.
Dennig made a show of glancing around at the piles of bones that moments before had been intent upon killing them.
“What is it?” Karus asked, for he sensed the dwarf was troubled, perhaps even morose.
“We gained much legend today.” Dennig heaved a great breath, becoming downcast. “My kin will never believe this fight with the undead. No, they will not believe it ever happened. They will think I tell tall tales. So, I think I will not be telling of it … a sad waste of hard-earned legend.”
The dwarf genuinely seemed upset.
“You do have the axe,” Karus said. “If it’s as rare as you say, well then …”
“Ah, I see where you are going,” Dennig said, hefting the axe. He shook it slightly. “I could claim I rescued this from a cursed fortress and fought off the undead doing it. For only a weapon as precious as this would be found in such a place. Ha! I like it! I really do approve of your thinking, my friend. You are cunning for a human.”
Karus laughed, and it felt good to do so. Only a few minutes before, he had been fighting for his life, with death a very real prospect. The sky was brilliantly blue and the weather incredibly fair. He had once again beaten the odds. It felt great be alive.
He glanced toward Amarra, intent on sharing the moment. She was staring off in the direction of the gate, a scowl upon her beautiful face. Her posture was rigid. Something was wrong.
“We need to get out of here and off this hill,” Amarra said in a low tone, as if she were speaking to herself. She looked over at Karus and Dennig, and her eyes appeared haunted. “It knows the fortress’s defenses are breached. I can feel the enemy coming, and they are close.” Her tone became urgent. “We need to go, and now!”
He did not need to be told twice. Neither did Dennig. They began moving toward the gate, working their way around the fire that still burned amongst the low-lying brush.
“Tal’Thor, Si’Cara …” Karus shouted, cupping his hands about his mouth. “It’s time to go!”
Chapter Fifteen
The rock shifted underfoot. Karus stumbled, almost falling forward. Dennig caught his arm in a vice grip, so hard it was close to being painful, but it kept him from tumbling down the steep face of the hill.
Fortress of Radiance Page 27
