The dwarf collapsed to the ground in a crash of metal and ice sprouted around the fatal wound. “Sorry, Vern. Guess you didn’t know all my tricks’n weapons after all.”
Fist barely brought Quickening down in time to block the strike of the imp’s flame-colored sword. Heat blazed from the weapon and the imp snarled at him with a mouth full of sharp yellow teeth.
“Our fight was cut short before, Master Fist,” it said.
“How are you so strong and fast?” Fist asked. The imp could only have been five and a half feet tall at the most and was most likely a quarter his weight.
I bet it’s his armor, said Squirrel. He had exited his pouch and was watching from a rock nearby, still wearing his scalemail vest and polished helmet.
“When Ghazardblast and I prepare for a job, I make certain I have the abilities needed,” Belfae said, then pushed Fist back and swung his sword down at the ogre’s legs.
Pulling on Quickening’s speed, Fist jumped back and swung the mace in a fierce strike at the imp’s head. Belfae ducked.
Yep, it’s the armor, Squirrel said, taking a bite of an olive he had pulled from his cheek pouch. But the runes are on the inside. When he moves real fast, I can sometime catch glimpses of them. You need an air shield.
Fist had no time to wonder where Squirrel had gotten an olive. The imp was slashing again with his fire sword and the ogre was barely able to avoid it. Then Belfae took a step back and thrust out his hand and a plume of fire shot from his palm.
Thanks to Squirrel’s warning, Fist was already raising his left arm. He sent threads out to form a large shield of golden magic that sprouted from his forearm to deflect the flames.
Try shock, Squirrel suggested,
“I know,” Fist said aloud. He sent vibrating strands of air and earth magic along his mace’s length and when the imp raised his sword to block it, electricity jolted through the metal.
The imp winced but didn’t falter. “I was expecting you to try shock, war wizard. This armor is grounded.”
He’s not wearing a helmet, Squirrel pointed out.
The problem is hitting it, Fist replied as he traded blows with the imp. He’s good.
Can I help? Squirrel said, putting the partially eaten olive back in his cheek.
Fist’s instincts were to say no, but after the morning’s events he had realized that things needed to change. He couldn’t keep treating Squirrel like an animal. He had evolved past that.
Fist raised his air shield to block another fire attack. Just bide your time. Watch for an opening.
Squirrel was already standing between the imp’s legs. He touched the ground and a sharp spike of rock erupted from the earth.
Edge approached the Bash Brothers with a look of grim disappointment. They gave him bland looks, each hefting their magically enhanced clubs.
“What are you three doing here with these mercenaries?” Edge asked.
“Ooh! Yeah, friends!” Rufus said, beating his chest with one fist. “What you doing?”
The three warwielders looked at each other. “It’s a job,” Delvin said reluctantly.
Edge folded his arms. “Fighting us?”
“We don’t want to fight,” Chester said, rubbing his bald head with a reluctant hand.
“We told Ghazard we won’t kill anybody,” Evastus said, crossed his arms over his yellow vest. “So he says our job is just to delay you.”
“Want to play cards?” Delvin asked hopefully.
Edge shook his head. “That’s not good enough. I hired you to help me find my wife. What you’re doing right now is putting her in danger.”
“We’ll still help you later,” Chester assured him. “After this part’s over.”
Edge glared at Evastus, ignoring his puppet brothers. “What part? The part where Fist and Lenny and Deathclaw are forced to fight for their lives? The part where Jhonate climbs up that mountain not knowing she’s with a servant of the Dark Prophet? You said that you would fight anyone who threatened us, even Ghazardblast.”
“Yeah!” said Rufus angrily. He grew a few inches larger in size just to show he was serious.
Evastus wouldn’t meet Edge’s eyes. “We kind of owe him, though.”
“He betrayed you,” Edge reminded them. “Abandoned you and ran away.”
“He was gonna come back,” Chester replied.
Delvin stuck his chest out. “It was just a tactical retreat.”
Again, Edge didn’t acknowledge them. He advanced on Evastus. “We have a contract. You and me. What do you owe this wizard? Is he the one that helped you when your brothers died?”
Chester and Delvin looked at each other and laughed. “That’s crazy talk!” They said and though Evastus didn’t speak, his lips moved along with them.
“They got . . . hurt,” Evastus corrected. “Ghazard healed them.”
“And gave you the connection to them?” Edge asked. “How much did he charge you?”
“We owe him . . . favors,” Evastus replied.
“Do you have a contract with him?” Edge asked.
“We owe him,” said Chester and Delvin.
Edge pointed at Evastus. “You are a mercenary. What happens when word gets out that you betray your clients?”
Evastus frowned and said slowly, “I told you that we will still honor our deal.”
“You’re breaking it right now,” Edge growled.
Chester loomed over him. “We will do our favor for Ghazard first! Work for you later!”
Edge wasn’t going to play Evastus’ game anymore. He reached out to the power of Rage. His right sword had absorbed Edge’s worry and anxiety for weeks and was buzzing with the power it had gained. He pulled that power through the bond and into the sword’s connection with the naming rune on the back of his right hand.
Chester leaned in close to him. “Hey. You listening to me, Sir Edge?”
Edge backhanded the puppet across the face. The moment the rune touched the orc’s skin, he released a third of the sword’s stored energy in an explosion of force that sent the eight-foot-tall warwielder hurtling end over end to collide with the rocky mountainside behind him.
“Chester!” Delvin and Evastus cried.
“Oh!” said Rufus, putting a surprised hand to his head.
Edge jabbed a finger at Evastus. “You are talking to me. Don’t hide behind the corpses of your brothers!”
The orc finally looked at him, his eyes full of anger. His hand gripped his club. “They’re not dead! Ghazard fixed them.”
As he spoke, Chester stood and shook his head. He tried to open and close his mouth but seemed to be having some trouble. The protections on him were as strong as Edge had figured. All that blow had done was dislocate his jaw.
“He’s okay!” Rufus declared.
“You’re a liar,” Edge told Evastus. “You lie to yourself and you lied to me when you broke our contract.”
Evastus swallowed. “I didn’t . . . We don’t break contracts.”
“I’m done talking to you,” Edge said. He turned away from the orcs and walked towards the wall of fire. He drew his swords. “I’m leaving. If you try to stop me, Evastus, I’ll kill you. What will happen to your brothers then?”
Without waiting for a response, Edge called out, “Artemus!”
Mist flowed from his chest and a cold pale hand soon rested on his shoulder. The wizard stood two feet taller than him with red eyes and a beard made of ice. “The fire?”
“If you would,” Edge replied.
The elemental flowed over to the barrier and as he neared it, the flames simply ceased to be. The entire barrier evaporated.
Ghazardblast, who had been sitting on a rock and humming as he waited for the fighting to end jumped in surprise. He stood with his staff at the ready, but when he saw Artemus standing there, he swallowed.
“We are ending this fight!” Edge announced, but he soon saw that two of the battles were already over. Both the imp and Vern lay dead on the ground. Lenny was stand
ing next to the dwarf, counting coins that he had found in Vern’s coin purse.
Squirrel was doing something similar, rooting around in the dead imp’s armor. Fist’s cheeks colored as he saw Edge looking on. “Oh, I was about to dispel the fire myself,” he claimed.
Only Deathclaw and the gnome warrior still danced around each other. Each of them was a blur. The raptoid’s skin was bleeding in several places, but the wounds were minor. The gnome warrior, however, appeared untouched.
Edge could see that the two of them were incredibly well-matched, but if he had to give an advantage to one over the other, the gnome had an edge. The gnome was quicker and likely had centuries of fighting experience. Deathclaw’s innate control of his body and ability to take damage kept him in the fight.
Edge turned to face Ghazardblast. “This is over. Call off your gnome.”
The wizard turned a scowl on the Bash Brothers. Chester had returned to his brothers’ sides and was rubbing at his jaw. “What are you doing, Evastus? Why aren’t you fighting? They killed Belfae!”
“We’re not fighting because we had a contract with Sir Edge and his tribe,” Evastus replied and the three huge warwielders walked towards the wizard. “No matter what you say, we don’t break deals.”
“Besides, we never liked Belfae,” said Delvin. “He cheated at cards.”
“Call off the gnome!” Edge repeated.
“Fine,” the old wizard said with bared teeth. “Three! Your task is over. Come back.”
The gnome took one last swipe at Deathclaw. When the raptoid dodged, the gnome flipped backwards, landed on his feet, sheathed his swords, and without further emotion, ran to the wizard’s side.
“Hey!” Deathclaw shouted and started to run after him.
Stop, Edge said. Let him go. We have enough challenges ahead.
Deathclaw hissed and glared at the gnome.
Three didn’t care about the raptoid’s frustration. He addressed the wizard. “I want full pay.”
“Half,” the wizard replied. “This mess got cut short.”
The gnome nodded and walked through the portal. The wizard motioned to the Bash Brothers. “You coming?” Evastus hesitated and the wizard pressed, “I’m not coming back for you. If you don’t come with us now you can walk back to Khalpany.”
Evastus looked to Edge. “If you want us to leave, we’ll only charge you the basic fee.”
“You mean you’ll prorate it,” Lenny said firmly. “You was only with us fer three gall-durned weeks.”
“No,” Edge said, looking up at the milling hordes of guardians crowding the slopes. “Stay and help us fight our way up this mountain, Evastus. If we survive, I’ll pay you for the full two months we agreed upon.”
Evastus looked to his two brothers. They shrugged back at him. “We did have a contract.”
“Might as well keep it,” Chester said, though with his jaw dislocated it came out as a mumble.
“Alright, fine,” said Evastus. “We’ll fight with the Big and Little People Tribe.”
Ghazardblast craned his neck to see the foes above them and shook his head. “Yeah, doubt I’ll see you again,” he said and walked through the brick portal. The moment he stepped inside, it crumbled to the ground
Are you ready? Edge asked his bonded. They nodded in the affirmative. Artemus?
“The elemental craves this fight,” he said, his voice a chilling rasp.
“Then it’s time to climb,” Edge said, and he drew his swords.
Chapter Twenty Eight
The Big and Little People Tribe – Guardians
Nod let the seer’s body slide to the ground and turned his attention to Jhonate. “Don’t run, love.”
“Run?” Jhonate thrust her spear at him. He dodged to the side and the sudden movement caused her to stumble. He smiled. He could see that her legs were failing her. The poison dart he had stabbed into her hip was taking effect.
Nod laughed and stumbled a bit himself. He really wished he hadn’t needed to expend so much energy just to get to this place. The stairs combined with the constant mental barrage had worn him down. At least he didn’t have to simper around the awful woman anymore.
He winced and stretched out his previously crippled left hand, his fingers stretching wide. “Ya got no idea how much it hurt to keep me hand all scrunched like that for days on end.”
She leaned on her spear once more, trying to get her unruly legs under control. “Why did you pretend to be crippled? I would have believed another type of curse.”
“Mayhap,” he said. “But ya woulda’ been right curious about this glove of mine.” Grinning he removed the glove and showed her the back of his hand. “Would’ve given me right away, now wouldn’t it?”
Her shoulders slumped as she saw the black spirit magic rune that marked him as a warrior in the service of the Dark Prophet. “Of course. The Dark Bowl.” She gave him a stony look. “Why did you bring me all the way here? Was it just to kill the seer?”
“That was a nice side benefit, I’ll give ya that,” he said. “Rahan’s been on the Dark Prophet’s kill list for a long time. His prophecies could be somewhat . . . frustratin’ to the cause. But in truth, what I needed was that dagger of yours.”
“This?” she said, shaking the staff. “Why did you not just kill me and take it. You had plenty of opportunities.”
“Well, I was thinkin’ about it. At first. But then ya went and used it to get yourself named and that changed things, dinnit? If ya kill a named warrior, the weapon breaks. Poof! Done. I’ve seen it a’fore.”
She slumped further, grasping her spear, barely able to keep from falling over as the poison worked. “So what is your plan now? We are here. If you want my dagger, you still cannot kill me.”
“I don’t gotta tell ya every’fing, love,” he said.
“I am not your love,” she said.
“Ya know, that’s right!” He laughed ruefully. “I dragged your highness all the way across the damned world, puttin’ up with your high and mighty act, me hand aching all day and night. And me having to pretend to have a curse on me noodle when some’fing lookin’ like you’s across the fire? I hate ya now. I hope ya understand why.”
“I hate you, too,” she said with a bleary scowl. “I have loathed you since the second day of our journey.” She shook her head and blinked her striking green eyes. “I still do not know what you want.”
“I’m waitin’ for ya to drop so I can take the dagger,” he said with a smile. “Won’t need it long.”
“Is that all?” She tossed the spear to him. “Take it.”
Out of reflex, he reached out with his right hand and snatched the Jharro spear out of the air. The moment his hand grasped the warm wood, he knew he had made a mistake. Spikes sprouted from the wood, piercing the flesh of his hand.
Cursing, he tried to let go, but the spikes hadn’t grown straight. They had curved through his flesh, entrapping him.
Jhonate stood straight, the tired expression leaving her face. “It is an old Roo-Tan trick. Make your enemy trap himself.”
Nod grimaced, clutching his arm. The spikes were still growing. Even worse the staff was seven feet long and dragging it like this was unwieldy. He knew he might have to cut off the hand. How infuriating. He had avoided losing a limb thus far, unlike most of the past Zestons. He eyed the four seals near the barrier. The staff still had the dagger attached to it. His mission could still be a success.
He grunted and edged his way towards the arch, dragging the spear across the ground, leaving a trail of his blood on the ground. “You’re lookin’ awful chipper all the sudden.”
“I have spent the last four days chewing a cure for poison,” she said, keeping pace with him. “Do you remember? I offered and you said you did not want any.”
“Oh, those leaves,” he said bitterly. Stupid coincidence. A general cure. If he had chosen a different poison, it might have still worked.
Jhonate seemed to notice that he was trying to get close t
o the archway, because she hurried to cut him off. Oh well, change of plan. He winced. “Tell me, Sar. What do I gotta do to get this rig off me arm, huh? Obviously you’ve won. I can’t run off with this think hangin’ on me now, can I?”
He lifted it and held it out to her, scooting the spear closer so that she could grab it. Keeping her distance, she crouched down and reached for the staff. As she did so he whipped his left arm forward, throwing his wicked short sword towards her belly.
It was a carefully targeted throw. If it hit too close to her most important organs, the magic in the sword could liquify them. If she died quick, he’d lose the dagger.
Jhonate saw the attack at the last moment and tried to dodge. The sword struck her side instead of her belly. The magic in the leather breastplate she wore fought against the sword, but there was a reason Nod liked that sword so much. The breastplate only deflected part of the magic. The blade bit into her side with destructive power. It only slid in an inch, but that was all he needed.
She cried out in pain. Nod pulled away from her, still intending to drag the dagger with him, but Jhonate had the staff open up and release it to the floor with a clatter. She picked it up and faced him with the dagger in one hand. Her other hand clenched her side. Blood flowed from the wound.
“Well, we both got an owwie now, don’t we, Sar?” Nod said with a laugh.
“What do you still want Tulos for?” Jhonate pressed, her teeth bared. “Do you think it can be turned back to the Dark Prophet’s uses?”
He snorted and moved his left hand behind his back to the throwing dagger he had hidden. “Not bloody likely.”
Jhonate saw him grabbing for something and rotated around him, causing him to turn to follow her. As he did so, the shaft of the Jharro staff lost its rigidity and went limp. The rope-like wood curled around his leg and before Nod could react, it hardened again.
Yelping, he stumbled and tripped and as he reached out to stop his fall, the woman stabbed the back of his left hand with her white dagger. The moment that the blade cut through the rune, Nod screamed. A rushing sound filled his ears and, as he watched, the black rune on his hand evaporated.
Sir Edge Page 32
