Severed Empire: Wizard's War Page 11

  “The scarf!” Eadric pointed. Mykal had almost forgotten he rode sandwiched between his father and Blodwyn because he’d been so encompassed in his own thoughts.

  They pushed the horses a little harder, squeezing the last bit of energy from the animals. Mykal gave a little kick with his heel. Babe responded. It was as if she’d been saving up that kick to finish strong. It was important they that they reach the cove soon, but not nearly as vital if the Voyagers ship had not yet docked. The king’s Watch—if not already after them— would pick up the trail easy enough with the ground soft from recent rains.

  The dock along the eastern edge of the cove was lined with small shops, and behind them modest homes. Barrels full of feed, and no one was outside. The horses sounded like thunder on the planks, their steel shoes echoed off the wood. They neighed as the riders reined them in.

  They stopped alongside the pole. Mykal looked up at the red scarf. It waved in the breeze like a flag, whipped back and forth, with the moon as a perfect backdrop. “Where are Quill and the others?”

  Blodwyn climbed down from Applejack, he petted the horse’s neck. “It’s late. I’m sure they’ve found a place to sleep for the night. Far too cold to stand by the river for hours. It could take a while before the Voyagers get here,” he said. “If they come at all.”

  “What was that?” Mykal said.

  “Nothing.” Blodwyn held the reins and led the horse closer to the water. He stood still, one arm behind his back with the reins, the other held his staff. He stared out over the water toward the Isthmian Islands.

  Eadric and Coil tied their horses to the flagpole. “We’re going to look around. See if we can find the others. Listen, I don’t want you wandering around.”

  Mykal wanted to sigh, and shake his head. He didn’t need fatherly advice on safety. He let it go. He supposed it was a nice gesture, him suddenly wanting to play a parental role. How many nights had he spent awake wishing for his father’s return? Too many to even count.

  Coil gave Mykal a wink, and nod, and followed along after Eadric.

  “How do you know the red flag will get us a ship?” Mykal stood beside his friend.

  “I don’t. Not really.”

  Mykal stayed quiet. He thought a story would follow. He waited. The silence stretched on for several minutes. “You must have a pretty good hunch someone’s coming, or we wouldn’t have counted on this as part of our plan,” Mykal said, finally. “I hope.”

  “Worse case, we buy one of the ships here and sail it to the fjord.”

  Mykal laughed.

  Blodwyn stared at him. “Was something I said funny?”

  “You were serious? If the Voyagers didn’t take us across the river, what makes you think they’d let us cross the river unscathed? And I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen the serpents. They’re huge. They would destroy a fishing boat. I’m not sure I’m up to rowing across the river, Wyn. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  Eadric returned. “I found Quill, and the other Archers. They’re holed up.”

  “Said they heard us ride in, figured we’d find them,” Coil said. “They’ve got a fire. Some stew leftover.”

  “We should eat,” Blodwyn said. “No telling what our futures hold. Be nice to sit and break bread together.”

  “I would not mind some sleep,” Mykal said. The more time he spent with Blodwyn, the more questions he had about the man’s past. It seems like he’d spent his years growing up sharing who he was with Blodwyn, without ever learning anything about the man in return. It was selfish of him. Perhaps Blodwyn would have shared details about his life had Mykal have been man enough to ask.

  “Bring the horses,” Eadric said. “They’ve a small stable we can double up in.”

  The idea of stables set Mykal’s mind at ease. He did not like leaving the horses unattended.

  Blodwyn stopped. He pointed toward the sea. “There.”

  It was hard to make out. Mykal had to open his eyes wider to see more clearly. It was only when the vessel rose on a small swell, that he saw the ship. “They’re coming,” he said. “The red scarf.”

  “It means she saw it,” Blodwyn said.

  “She?”

  “Someday I will tell you the tale,” he said.

  “A woman. Bags of coins. A cloak that deflects arrows. I think you owe me more than a tale or two, Wyn,” Mykal said.

  “We get through all of this and I will share stories with you worthy of a scribe, and a place in the archives of one of the libraries.”

  “A modest side, Wyn? I’ve never seen that before.” Mykal laughed and watched as the Voyagers ship sailed toward them. It would be a while before they reached a slip. “I kind of like it.”

  ***

  Mykal woke up to the sounds of men whispering. He was surprised he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t recall the dream exactly. He knew it had something to do with his grandfather, and his mother. Babe may have been in it, as well, and the farm. He wished the content of the dream was still available. It wasn’t. As his eyes winked open, and stayed open, the images from the dream slipped further and further away from his mind. By the time he sat up, it was gone. He could no longer remember what his mother had looked like, and that troubled him.

  “You’re awake. Good.” Blodwyn knelt beside him. Blodwyn looked beyond Mykal. For the first time he noticed crease-like trails across Blodwyn’s forehead and the slight sag of skin around the sides of his mouth pulling his mustached lips downward. Not knowing how old Blodwyn was was another failure on his part in their bond of friendship.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The Watch. They’re close, closer than the Voyagers.”

  “We’re going to fight?”

  “Not if we don’t have to,” Blodwyn said. He stood up, and extended out a hand. He lifted Mykal to his feet. “If we can stay hidden, they may ride right past us. Problem is our tracks stop at the village. Sun will be up soon. There won’t be many places to hide.”

  Mykal drew his sword. “I’m ready.”

  “You need to limit the use of magic, if you use it at all. Are we understood? If you go too far, your energy is spent. You’ll be vulnerable. I want you to stay close. I am going to do everything I can to protect you,” Blodwyn said.

  “As am I,” Eadric said.

  Mykal turned and looked at his father.

  “I have Quill and the archers headed to rooftops. They’ll have an advantage,” Eadric said.

  “Especially if the king warned the Watch about only three fugitives. They train to prepare for the unexpected. However, it is quite possible they’ll not be ready for all of us. Have we an idea of how many riders?” Blodwyn said.

  “Twenty, maybe a few more. Hard to tell exactly with the moon shining over the sea. Going by the cloud of dust the horses are kicking up, it is a best guess. Could be more. Hopefully it is less.” Eadric’s breath plumed in front of his face and vanished. He stared out toward the approaching riders. “They’re coming fast. I’m thinking they know we’re here.”

  “They’ll try to surround the village,” Blodwyn said. “That will work to our advantage. It will thin their numbers some. With them spread out, they’ll be easier for us to pick off.”

  “How do you know?” Mykal said.

  “It seems logical. Especially if they assume there are just the three of us. Well. Two of us, and a wizard.”

  Eadric led Blodwyn and Mykal across the dock toward the back front of the local mercantile. “I don’t hear them,” he said.

  “They’ve stopped galloping.” Blodwyn gave his staff a twirl, something Mykal had only seen him do when they’d spar. He had said it was a way to loosen his wrists. “They don’t want their presence given away by hoof-beats. If they suspect we’re asleep, the last thing they’d want to do is wake us. They’re going to come into the cove as quietly as possible.”

  Mykal was low with his back to the building. He peeked around the corner. He couldn’t see much of anything, other than a few small homes. “Wha
t do we do now?”

  “We wait,” Eadric said.

  Mykal breathed quick shallow breaths. He wished he could see everyone else. He knew they were staked out in strategic places, as well. He just knew he’d feel better with eyes on them. “Wait for what?”

  A man screamed. It came from behind them, beyond the cove. It must have been one of the Watch. They all turned and looked in that direction.

  Chapter 11

  Men let out battle cries. They came from all directions, even from above. In the sky falcons circled. It was as if the taloned hunters sensed pending carnage, and would patiently wait for warm meals. Morning must be close, or the birds planned forgoing sleep for carrion.

  “For that,” Eadric said.

  Mykal saw the ship bounce on the swells of the sea. It was very close to the docks. It would arrive shortly. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or bad.

  The Watch rode onto the docks on their horses with swords drawn.

  Arrows flew toward the Watch with a slight whistle as the broad-head and fletching cut through the air. The Watch raised shields, deflecting the Archers’ attempts.

  One arrow punctured a man’s thigh, high up near the groin. Blood spurted up into the air. The man howled, head thrown back. His sword fell from his hand. The steel clanked onto the ground. He pressed a gloved hand around the arrow, and wrenched it free from his flesh. Mykal saw clenched teeth, and crazy eyes. More blood spilled from the gaping wound, despite pressing a palm over the hole. It was as if he became suddenly dizzy. His head rolled around on his shoulders as he slid sideways off the saddle. He fell off the horse and crashed down hard on his shoulder. Mykal knew there was no hope. The man would bleed out. Death was inevitable. It should become less painful, and eventually he would close his eyes and drift from this life into the next.

  He knew he had been transfixed on the Watch. He couldn’t look away. More arrows were loosed overhead. They flew through the air. Mykal more heard them, than saw them. Men screamed, and shouted. Commands were yelled. Mykal heard the musical vibrations of steel clashing.

  He hadn’t moved from his spot against the mercantile. He wasn’t afraid. That wasn’t the issue. Ahead he saw the ship. The Voyager vessel would reach a slip at any moment. He was not sure what to expect from them. His grandfather had always labeled them as dangerous pirates. They terrorized any ship that dared crossing their sea. And Blodwyn knew them.

  He didn’t just know the Voyagers; it was as if they might owe him a favor. Why else would they respond to the red scarf waving atop a flagpole?

  Not convinced they needed Nabal’s help to defeat the Mountain King, Mykal wished his king would have taken the threat seriously. He did not want to see Grey Ashland fold, or bend a knee to the monster on the eastern side of the Isthmian.

  With his sword in hand, Mykal stepped off out of the darkness of his corner, and onto the docks. He heard the water lap at the slips, and against the fishing boats. He could hear the wind whip around him, amidst the whistling of flung arrows.

  His Uncle Quill was defending himself against two Watch. He used a sword with one hand, and a dagger in the other. He advanced forward, pushing the Watch back a step at a time. He grunted as he thrust, and parried.

  Mykal raised his sword and ran at the Watch. “Quill!”

  The shout caught the Watch off guard. One turned and looked at Mykal. His eyes came off Quill for just a moment. It was a fraction of a second too long. Quill took advantage of the break. He swung his dagger, leaning into the plunge, and let the blade cut into the Watch’s throat. It was the only exposed area of flesh. The chainmail made most areas impenetrable. The neck split. Blood spilled from the throat. The man dropped to his knees. Quill disregarded him, and concentrated on the sole Watch left.

  Mykal joined the fight. With both hands around the hilt he swung down with his sword as if it were an axe; as if he was chopping wood. His blade clanked against the Watch’s sword. The blow sent the tips toward the ground. Again, Quill took full advantage of the moment. He stabbed the dagger toward the man’s face. The Watch backed away, but lost his footing. He fell hard. One elbow broke the fall. The man winced, and Mykal imagined the pain shooting up the Watch’s arm.

  Quill raised his sword and drove the blade down. The tip severed the mesh of his chainmail and pierced the man’s chest. Quill twisted the hilt, and yanked the sword out, with it came a sucking sound, and bubbling of deep red blood.

  “Behind you!” Quill stepped over the corpse.

  Mykal wheeled around, sword raised. It was just in time. He deflected an arcing blow. The weight of the impact knocked him sideways. He took several short, quick steps before he could stand up straight. Just as he did, the Watch delivered another whack with his sword. Steel clashed, sparks glanced off the sharp edges. Mykal moved in a circle. He held the hilt in both hands and worked the defense end of the fight. The Watch was tall, muscular. He swung over and over. Mykal did his best to block each blow.

  Quill jumped in between them. He fought the Watch with both of his weapons. He moved fast, left, and right. The Watch followed him, forgetting Mykal.

  Trying to emulate his uncle, Mykal swung at his sword at the back of the man’s legs. He felt his blade cut through skin, meat, and stop at bone. He slid the sword across the legs slicing through tendons, dropping the man to the ground. Quill stepped in and drove his dagger into the back of the Watch’s neck.

  Mykal wondered how the others fared. He still heard sounds of fighting. There were men screaming out in pain. Others silenced suddenly. The clashing of steel on steel was all around him. He looked at the sea.

  The Voyagers were no closer. They must have been watching battle from the water. Playing it smart as they kept their distance. There was no reason for them to dock at that point, since the fight was not theirs. Mykal wasn’t sure how he felt about that. If they came ashore they might help them end the small battle, fighting side by side as allies. However, they might take sides with the king’s men, and that would leave Mykal and his friends fearfully outnumbered.

  “This way.” Quill took his arm and spun him around.

  “How many are left, do you think?”

  “I’m no abacus.” Quill’s curt sarcasm silenced Mykal.

  His uncle was correct. There was no point fussing over numbers. It didn’t matter if there were ten or one-hundred and ten. Their friends were still fighting, and they were not. They needed to get to where the fighting was.

  Just ahead, Blodwyn was using both his cloak, and staff against three Watch. He kept the cloak over his left arm, and held the end tight in his closed fist. He spun, wielding the material like a royal shield. Swinging swords raked across the fabric. It held together, without any sign of wear. Blodwyn used his staff like a sword. He swung it in a way that intercepted the enemy’s steel, and then rolled it away to keep the sword from cutting into the wood. He’d twirl the staff and thwap the opposite end over the Watch’s head, and then face off the next.

  There were bodies scattered about on the dock, in the grass, and up the sides of buildings. Arrows protruded from many parts of their bodies. The dead didn’t move, as it should be.

  Eadric jumped off a roof. He howled like an animal as he descended. He landed on the shoulders of a Watch about to attack Blodwyn from behind. His body’s weight crumpled the Watch. Using fists, they fought. Knuckles broke through skin, and knocked out teeth. The two held onto each other with both hands and rolled around. Their legs kicked out, and wrapped around each other. They grappled, reaching for arms, and legs. They sat, and fell backwards. Grunting and groaning escaped them as they expelled their energy.

  Coil came around a corner. He held his sword high. His mouth was opened wide. The growl that came from him was loud, and guttural. He slashed left and right, cutting down Watch as if cutting through weeds with a sickle. He pushed men off his blade, and swung again, and again, fresh blood spraying off the steel.

  Blodwyn finished his fighting. The solid sound of his staff crac
king a skull almost echoed.

  Eadric used an elbow. He beat the Watch in the face with it. The nose shattered. Blood sprayed out in all directions. The Watch lay motionless on the ground. Eadric stood up, brushing dust, and blood from his clothing and off the palms of his hands. He stuck fingers in his mouth, and cursed. “Knocked a tooth loose, he did,” he said.

  Mykal said, “Are you all right?”

  “I am. Are you?” his father said.

  “Yes.”

  “How much magic did you use?” Blodwyn took his shoulders and looked him up and down. “Are you tired?”

  “I didn’t use any. There wasn’t time. I just… just fought,” Mykal said. “Where are Coil, and the others?”

  “Here.” Coil limped toward them. The gash across his leg was bleeding, and it looked both deep and serious.

  Mykal ran up to him. “Hold still. Let me take a look. I can help you.”

  “With this?” Coil said. “It’s nothing but a cut.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Eadric said. “Let my son heal you.”

  “Who are you to call me foolish?”

  Blodwyn held out his staff. “Enough,” he said. “Can you help him, Mykal?”

  Mykal didn’t respond. He stared at the leg, and then reached for the sliced fabric. He tore the cloth more, exposing the entire wound.

  “What in the world is wrong with you? You see me carrying around a bag of clothing?” Coil grunted.

  “Hold still.” Mykal held out his hands, and passed them over the bleeding laceration. Slowly the meat under the skin melded together. The skin closed the gap. The area looked red, and swollen. Mykal closed his eyes, but continued moving his hands back and forth above the leg. The swelling went down, and there was no longer even a trace of the slash. All that remained was dirt, and blood.

  “That. Was. Amazing!” Coil gripped his thigh above the old injury and lowered his nose to his leg. He stood up straight. Cautiously, he placed his weight on that leg. Then all of his weight, lifting the opposite foot off the ground. He jumped up and down on the one leg. “Can you see this? Did you see that?”