The Silver Claw

by Erik Williamson

  Haddurah’s remains smoldered and smoked into a hot, shapeless mass.

  Alixa breathed out a shaky exhale of relief. Then, suddenly dazed, she turned towards the gulley. Emmie was still screaming in agony. Renn was calling for help, applying all the pressure to her forearm he could. Alixa felt she could all but see his tender left shoulder muscles snapping.

  She tried to run to their aid, but merely staggered sideways. Her eyes lost focus, careening across the battlefield in slow motion. With the witch decapitated, it seemed the battle was hastily coming to an end. Only a handful of Aegorites remained standing, and they were neither asking for nor being extended mercy.

  “Emmie,” Alixa cried, her words slurring. “Is Emmie. . .”

  Her mind muddled. Her arms went limp. Then her hands lost feeling. Swords clanged to the ground, ringing incongruously in her ears like Kaisson’s emergency bells. Frantically, Alixa tried to wiggle her fingers. They were stony and uncooperative. Petrification began to creep up her arms. Clawed across her shoulders. Spread through her chest.

  “Corbiern!” Her cry was meek and fading. “Corbiern—Emmie.”

  Her thoughts moved like stone. Alixa’s vision gave out. She could scarcely catch even the slightest breath.

  “Corb. . . in the. . . Em needs. . .”

  She swayed in confusion. Her world went dark. And Alixa collapsed face-first into the rocky ground.

  LXX - The Tablelands Labyrinth

  Emmie lay in a pool of her own blood, her eyes wide and unfocused, flailing in agony. Renn ripped off his cloak and wrapped it around and around her forearm, attempting to staunch the red river gushing out. But his unhealed left shoulder couldn’t give him the strength he needed. He curled himself around her limp little arm and forced his shoulder to cooperate.

  “Lixa!” Emmie jolted upwards, reaching above them.

  Renn glanced to the plain but couldn’t see Alixa, or the witch for that matter. “You gotta stay down.”

  “But she’s. . .” Emmie’s eyes blinked shut. “Lix?”

  Renn’s heart pounded harder, his stomach wound trickling blood with each beat. He kept applying pressure until his shoulder muscles felt like they were tearing again. The warm, metallic smell of Emmie’s blood, spraying out everywhere, was making him ill. He blocked it all out, focusing his entire being on tightening his grip on Emmie’s arm.

  Corbiern had watched Alixa charge Haddurah from behind. He crossed the battlefield, an enthralled spectator, as Alixa finished her. Then Alixa dropped like a bag of wheat and Corbiern broke into a breakneck sprint. The first to arrive, he gingerly turned her body over, placing his fingers at her neck, straining to find a pulse. Her forehead was a mess from taking the brunt of her collapse, but her bleeding face was the only evidence of life. She was as cold as ice and no more responsive.

  “Corbiern, go,” Setticus said slowly and deliberately as he approached. “Help the others.”

  “But Alixa. . .” Corbiern still couldn’t find a pulse.

  “There is nothing you can do for her. I will see to her body. Go.”

  After a moment’s pause, Corbiern tore himself away. He staggered down the ravine to find Renn struggling with a fading Emmie.

  “Let go, Renn. Give her to me.”

  Corbiern forcibly unlocked Renn’s grip, revealing a gory slit running the length of her forearm, open all the way to the bone. He tasked Renn with forcing sedatives into the hysterical girl’s mouth. Delirious and thrashing, Emmie was having none of it. Renn finally managed to get her to swallow one, but all Emmie could feel was the exposed raw nerves that were her arm. Corbiern knew she couldn’t afford for him to wait for the sedative to kick in. He commanded Renn to hold her arms and legs down. Corbiern sat on her chest and, both of them pinning her to the ground, Corbiern’s fingers disappeared inside her, clearing the arm best he could with a juice that added a burning sting to her searing nerve ending pain. Then he grabbed needles and his knife.

  At the first stitch of needle slicing through her, Emmie’s vision went white with pain. Corbiern shut out her anguished pleas for him to stop hurting her and began slicing his needle through her again and again, sewing her split arm shut. The sedative slowly took effect but did little to assuage her pain.

  It was then that Jes and Brie arrived. Convincing Renn that Brie could take charge of pacifying Emmie, Jes pulled her son away and tried to lay him down. She should be —and really was—overjoyed to see them both alive. That was as much as she had allowed herself to hope for. Yet Jes wished for better than this.

  A prickle of déjà vu jolted Brie as she settled into the dusty rocks and wiped tears from Emmie’s cheeks. Renn lay dazed, covered in blood, deep in the mountains as the sky darkened. Emmie shrieked and shrieked. Just as Brie’s dream warned. She put a hand to her head, closed her eyes, and tried to assure herself: she’d arrived in time or this would have ended in both their deaths. Grateful but overwhelmed, Brie laid Emmie’s head in her lap and held her left hand. She forced another sedative down Emmie’s throat. Then another. As the sedatives took effect, Emmie’s screaming melted into incoherent whimpers while her tears continued to flow unabated.

  “Your turn, Renn.” Emmie sewn shut, Corbiern set down his bloody gear and ran a hand over his face. He glanced nervously up the slope where Alixa’s lifeless body lay.

  “Stay with her,” Renn grunted.

  “I’ll check her stitching once she stops thrashing so much. Now, let me have a look.”

  Jes ordered Renn to lie still. Corbiern treated his stomach wound, then flopped Renn’s shoulder side to side. “All my hard work putting this back together. You’ve ripped it clean apart again.”

  “You’ve put his arm together once already?” Jes asked, mystified.

  “I go way back with these three.” Corbiern wiped blood off his face. He glanced up the slope, wondering if there were still three of them. He forced a smile. “You’re the mother, are you? We’ll have many stories to share.”

  “Mom, Brie. . .” Renn winced as Corbiern worked. “How did you. . .”

  “Quiet,” Corbiern commanded. “Let me do my job.”

  “Lix?” Emmie slurred, barely half-conscious. “Where’s Lix?”

  “In the best possible hands, maybe in all the world. We have to trust that.”

  “Is she. . .” Renn followed Corbiern’s glance. He tried to pull himself up.

  “Shhh, honey.” Jes forced him back down. Renn immediately propped himself back up.

  “Lay them together,” said an exasperated Corbiern. He motioned to Brie, cradling Emmie’s head as she cried and whimpered. “I’ve dealt with these two before. She kept him alive all through the night a few weeks back, on nothing but hope.” He tried to catch Emmie’s bleary attention. “Hey, you have a lot to look forward to. Heal up for that future, okay?

  “You’ll have stories to share all around. Later.”

  Corbiern took a long breath, wiping his hands on his pants. With a nod to Brie and Jes, he bounded up the hill, hoping he’d find Alixa alive.

  “Hi, Renn,” Emmie slurred.

  “Hope Brie lets us have that future, eh?” Renn fumbled for her hand. “All the trouble we’ve caused.”

  Brie helped Emmie take Renn’s hand. Despite all the chaos around them, the advocate couldn’t help but smile.

  LXXI - The Tablelands Labyrinth

  Setticus had built a fire—from what resources and how he had so quickly coaxed white-hot embers from it, Corbiern could not guess—and was carefully wrapping Alixa’s stiff body with what should have been scalding hot wraps. Alixa’s battered forehead still bled, untended. That was the least of Setticus’s concerns. She was frigid, head to toe, and her skin looked like white, polished marble. If his lifetime of accumulated wisdom was to count for anything, the old man vowed, it would be to preserve Alixa’s faint life. She was far too important to all of them.

  He assigned two unwounded Paccan archers to fetch water from the small gulley stream, and another to atten
d to boiling it over the fire. He didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but he intuited that keeping her body hot (to offset the ever-growing frigidity of her skin) and moist (to fight back the stony rigidity overtaking her) was paramount. He craved Corbiern’s or Omlos’s assistance; both gifted healers. But this was beyond Corbiern’s ability. Besides, Emmie needed the healer’s deft touch to live through the day and Corbiern needed the satisfaction of saving her life to buoy him. He would be beyond crushed when he learned Omlos hadn’t survived the battle.

  “Is she alive?” Corbiern tapped his foot, growing impatient waiting for Setticus to acknowledge his arrival.

  “Yes,” Setticus responded tentatively. “Yet. . . she is not quite with us.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  As Setticus’s bushy eyebrows shot up in response to Corbiern’s question, Brie wound her way up the embankment. Renn and Emmie demanded they be told something about Alixa’s wellbeing. Brie promised she would bring them an answer, woeful as she imagined it would be, if it meant he and Emmie would stop badgering them and get their prescribed rest.

  “My boy, she slayed what appears to have been a three-centuries-old something—something not quite or no longer human. She’s also likely broken a curse that has plagued us for three-hundred years.” Setticus caught himself, quickly pointing at Corbiern then Brie. “I forbid you to share that conjecture.” He laid another steaming cloak on Alixa. “All things considered, my goodness, what would you expect her condition to be?”

  Brie scowled. Hardly a report that would pacify Renn and Emmie. . .

  “Explain that again?” Corbiern asked. “That’s—”

  “I’ve every intention of explaining, all in in due time. And I have no intention of allowing Alixa to do anything other than live. But, first, young lady, kindly summon that knot of leaders along the canyon for me. Their duties are not finished.”

  Brie shot him a withering look. She was here for Renn and Emmie, not to play errand-girl.

  “Please, my dear.” Setticus bowed.

  “Fine. “Brie relented. “But we aren’t finished here either.”

  The leaders—such as they were—were holding a war conference in a corner of the canyon, the blood and bodies and battle debris around them being cleared by their people. The circle comprised the wounded Lobrid Captain Kreddick, Baerdron, Loselle, a blood-spattered Chargrish, the Paccan archer chief, and Berglin and Brother Taeron; both of whom were thoroughly disinterested in taking part. The Bandu were unrepresented: only Kleehen and one other lived, both unconscious and in critical condition.

  “First order, casualties,” Kreddick said. “Eleven dead, 23 wounded from my troops.”

  Each man relayed the status of his group, a devastated Taeron rounding out the numbers by holding up two fingers, followed slowly by two more. Two dead, two wounded, all attempting battlefield triage.

  Their tallies totaled over 50 dead and nearly 100 wounded.

  “Half our numbers, essentially.” Loselle heaved a sigh.

  “A high price. However, there are no survivors among the Aegorites,” Kreddick stated surely. “One-hundred eighteen dead, plus the woman.”

  “Because you executed their wounded,” Loselle responded in a low voice. “I would’ve liked to question them. That, and killing wounded is tantamount to murder.”

  “Valeman, please. . .” Kreddick waved him off. “You do not know who you are dealing with. You do not know how to conduct war.”

  Loselle blanched at the demeaning reproof. Slaughtering enemy wounded was unconscionable. He knew the rules of war, but he bit his tongue. The battle may have been small in number, but it could be long on significance. He would sacrifice his pride for the sake of building goodwill in the wake of victory.

  Eyes and feet shifted nervously amongst those assembled.

  “Captain, you yourself are badly wounded, no?” Baerdron changed the topic.

  “That woman would’ve killed me,” Kreddick replied, tapping his bandaged shoulder. “The girl distracted the. . . we need to figure out what that hideous woman was. Regardless, the little wheat-head saved my life. Always despised her kind. Being in debt to one? Not an easy concession for a Lobrid.” He smirked off the concession. “The other wheat-head—the tall, fierce one—finished her off. So, what was she?”

  “No.” Berg wiped blood from a gash on his neck. “Call them Bandu, or simply people. Whatever you choose, say it with respect.”

  The rebuke was met with tense silence. Berg—not feeling quite as magnanimous as Loselle—kept his burning grey-blue eyes locked with the Lobrid’s, who let out a quick hard laugh.

  “My apologies, Valeman.” He turned towards the others, gesturing grandly. “I understand respect. I will give it. Now, the woman. . .”

  The debate had reached no consensus by the time Brie arrived. That the woman was no more than a rank heap of smoldering remains convinced some she could be Haddurah, from centuries past. That seemed folly to others. They did agree that they’d battled a small Aegorite army. Something the Lobrids would follow up on. Their old allies pledged their support. It was time to patch up old slights and investigate what had been brewing, without their needed vigilance, for far too long.

  Eager for the disturbing conversation to end, they readily followed Brie to hear Setticus out. They arrived at the lip of the gulley to find the old mystic leaning on his staff in meditation. Corbiern swabbed Alixa’s skin—chalky and whiter than her corn silk hair—with a damp, hot cloth. Her own sword, Cutchen’s, and a Paccan saber were jabbed into the ground at her feet. Of those gathering, only Baerdron knew her, and seeing his near-surrogate daughter wavering between life and death was hard, was a tough blow.

  “We have achieved a great accomplishment today,” Setticus announced. “Thus begins the reunification of the West. The healing of our land. A small step, yet also a large one.”

  “Speak plainly,” Chargrish, left eye swollen shut and left ear ringing loudly, shouted. “Great accomplishment. Small but large. This kind of talk is beyond me.”

  “Ah, one can always count on a Khuulie for blunt honesty.” Setticus smiled at the craggy fisherman. “I will explain what I can. The rest, you must work out yourselves. Today was a small battle, no doubt, but all our armies are small.” He wagged a finger at the Lobrid captain, leaning against the rock where he’d fought the witch. “Yes, even you Lobrids, compared to your former glory. We may not fully understand what we’ve achieved but I exhort you to take this collective victory to your homes. Build on the unity we have earned here.” Setticus directed their attention to Alixa. “This young woman bore the brunt of today’s battle. She killed this queen, this witch—call her what you will—the evil head of our enemies. She is owed much gratitude. Captains, pay her the time-honored tribute she is owed.”

  The men exchanged unsure glances.

  “Gladly!” Kreddick stepped forward. “Let this begin a new day between my people and hers.” He turned with a sarcastic smile. “You see, a Lobrid can indeed admit when he’s been wrong about someone.”

  He plunged his sword into the ground. Each representative followed his lead. Berglin descended immediately into the gulley. He was done with this official nonsense; he’d come for his brother. Baerdron knelt beside Alixa, brushing her hair out of her face, grieved there was little else he could do for her. Then they all left: to brief their people, tend the wounded, and plan the journey home. Through it all, arms and eyebrows crossed, drumming her fingers along her side, Brie impatiently scowled at the old Paccan until only she, Corbiern, and Setticus remained.

  “I can’t fathom how they’re willing to leave it at that,” Brie said, palms spread out. “I am not. You know what these kids accomplished. You will tell me.”

  After an unnerving pause, Setticus offered a slight bow. “Not one to be trifled with, I see. I do not know anything per se. Hence what I told those men is not a lie. I wish to allow history to take its course, not force it with my words. I will share my
conjecture, then lock it away and simply observe.”

  Before Brie could work up a response to that, a weak and woozy—but quite insistent—shout rose from the gulley. “Wanna see Lixa now!”

  Brie and Corbiern glanced at one another as Emmie paused, no doubt somebody trying to calm her. Then, defiant and pained, she yelled, “I’ll go myself then!”

  “Brie, you best go back.” Berg emerged from the gulley. As de facto leader with his mom at Renn’s side, he needed to return to the Drennichers. “They’re, uh, agitated. As you can no doubt hear from your little houseguest.”

  “Ah, yes.” Leeman, mopping his brow, trotted up the ravine behind Berg. “Emmidawn is, let’s say, not her usual cheerful self.”

  Leeman had been regaling Renn and Emmie with the tale of his arduous search on horseback, of convincing Lobrid scouts to hear him out, calling in Ebner’s favor, and the subsequent frenetic gallop to the Tablelands. While eager to hear the adventures of their friend, from what now seemed so long ago, his verbal presence was exhausting them.

  “Serious, Brie. She’s worrying me,” Berg said, gesturing for Leeman to follow him. “You best go before she hurts herself.”

  “Corbiern and I shall bring their friend to them,” Setticus decreed. “I would prefer Alixa be treated to more privacy than is currently being afforded her, anyhow.”

  Brie hurried down into the notch of the gulley where they’d laid Renn and Emmie. Jes held Emmie’s head in her lap, brushing her hair as she fumed and cried. Renn was making a poor attempt at standing, shaking hands with a big young man.

  “Kalderr!” Brie exclaimed. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

  “They need their rest, I know.” Kalderr scratched his head. “Just ducking in. Saying hi.”

  “Yeah, he missed punching me every day.” Renn grimaced as Kal helped him back down.

  “Come off it. I forgave you way back. Someone’s done a solid job of beating you as it is.” Kal gave him a playful shove. “And, well, I kind of want you beside me when I get married. Just maybe, I’m returning the favor soon?”