The Contention (14 page)

Mordal summoned one of his blessings and felt as his muscles tensed and the power surged through his blood. Smiling into the night, Mordal cracked his neck to either side before racing off, this time at an unnatural speed, again across the night-time roofs of Valdadore. This time the pursuit was in earnest as dozens of the beast men leaped into and out of sight as Mordal followed the route in his mind. Within minutes the assassin was nearing his destination, but it was becoming more of a race than he had hoped for. The hair-covered, armored beasts were coming from everywhere now, springing up from the streets onto the lower buildings, leaping across roofs, and racing down roads from all directions. Mordal realized his time was growing short, and as the creatures began to close in on him, Mordal unleashed yet another of his abilities as he slid to a stop upon the roof top of a very long building.

The building below him was nothing more than a warehouse belonging to the textile guild. It was one giant room stacked upon another where fabric was made, dyed and hung to dry, but it served the assassin’s purpose perfectly. Becoming one with the surrounding scenery, Mordal watched as the nearest beasts began to swivel their heads this way and that, looking for their target, all the while testing the air with their noses. Mordal smiled again. Stepping invisibly to the edge of the roof, Mordal jumped off, landing one floor below on one of the many balconies of the building. These were open air balconies without so much as a door to keep him out. A perfect plan.

Mordal stepped into the uppermost floor of the fabric dying facility, taking his time to brush up against every piece of fabric that stood in his way. Above, he could hear as the beasts gathered, seeking his trail. It would be mere minutes before they realized his scent had left the rooftops, and only seconds more before they picked it up starting with the balcony. His time growing ever shorter, Mordal raced around the immense room touching everything in his path, finishing at the very same balcony he had entered the warehouse at. Once more Mordal raced among the thousands of hanging sheets of fabric to the opposite end of the building. Focusing his power to remain nearly invisible, he waited until he could hear the first of the beasts surge into the warehouse opposite him. Stepping out into the night again, Mordal searched the street below, and looked up to the roof above as he heard his pursuers by the dozens entering the warehouse from the far end. Carefully, Mordal expertly climbed back to the roof. Here there were near a hundred of the beasts, each sniffing and looking, searching for any sign of the man they had been tracking. Now, however, Mordal was not only almost invisible, but he was downwind of the beasts. Silently the assassin crept back the way he had originally come. For the first several buildings the assassin moved slowly, choosing each footfall, timing each leap to be sure none witnessed his shadow. Even though he blended with all that surrounded him, he still cast a shadow.

Half an hour passed as Mordal carefully retraced his footsteps back towards the castle before he finally felt safe to move at a decent speed. Once he was assured that none were any longer in pursuit, Mordal picked up the pace and within another half an hour he was again scaling the castle complex’s wall at the same point he had come over earlier. The guards upon the wall here were spaced too far apart, and even if they weren’t, Mordal could slip right past them unseen if he needed to. A few more moments later, Mordal was perched atop the castle wall looking down upon the sparring field where this adventure originally started, and he could not believe his eyes, or his luck.

Upon the sparring field below, with no one else to guard them, were two figures in black armor. Even from this height, Mordal did not need to invoke his blessed vision to see what transpired below. One in black cradled the other as the healer, who had been present earlier, simply paced around with her head down. Apparently the princess was beyond the healer’s ability, and the prince had come and was now mourning the loss of his young wife. How lucky could one person possibly be? Mordal grinned to himself as he unstrapped the gnomish Gatling bow. While all the pursuers were still in the southern half of the city, leaving this pair of royals unprotected, Mordal could quickly dispatch the prince, and the healer as well to assure no alarm was raised. Then he could reclaim his mount and leave the city through the northern gate unimpeded. Too damn easy. Mordal snapped the hopper into place atop his mechanical bow.

*****

Sara, momentarily overcome with anguish, regained herself and pulled her blades from her husband’s chest. The power rushing into her subsiding, Sara quickly tossed her blades aside and called to Daniella. The healer, having failed to be any help to Sara, snapped out of her current state of shock and rushed to Sara’s side. With the experience of a trained professional, Daniella quickly inspected Seth’s wounds and summoned up her abilities as she began her first prayer. Chanting softly in a tongue Sara did not recognize, Daniella’s hands began to glow with holy white light. As the glowing increased, so too did the volume of Daniella’s chanting. Sweat beaded upon the healer’s face as her jaw muscles flexed. Gritting her teeth the healer strained to heal an injury that most novice clerics could repair in short order. Moments passed and Seth lost consciousness. More moments passed and his body began to convulse. More and more sweat appeared on Daniella’s face and arms as her hair became drenched and clung to her scalp. Something was amiss.

Slowly, painstakingly, the first of Seth’s wounds began to close, seemingly reluctant to heal. As the hole in his chest mended, Seth attempted to inhale, though with one lung still filled with blood, he only choked and gurgled before being wracked by convulsions yet again. Near half an hour had passed since Seth was wounded, and with only half his healing completed, Daniella stopped in her prayer a moment to rest and refocus.

“Something resists my efforts,” Daniella stated, panting for breath. “With you I could not even recognize what it was I was seeing within your body. I could not connect with you to heal your wounds. With Prince Seth it is much the same, but his body relents to my power, if only barely so. It makes no sense to me, but give me a moment’s reprieve and I shall continue.”

Sara simply nodded her head and waited patiently for Daniella to continue. She did not wait long. After what could barely be called a moment of rest, Daniella began to chant anew and placed her hands upon Seth as her flesh began to blaze with bright white luminance. More than another half an hour passed as Daniella completed the process, perspiring and panting from the strain. As drained as she was, Daniella did not fall back to lay upon the grass for rest. Instead the woman rose in her white robes, and began to stride about, once again speaking to herself.

Sara, on the other hand, without so much as a thought, carefully pulled Seth into her lap. There she cradled him, hoping he would regain consciousness soon, and that he would forgive her for mistakenly attacking him.

*****

Borrik wanted a higher vantage point, for he had a feeling he knew what the assassin was playing at. Finding one suitable, he climbed the many stories of stone stairs all the way to the top of the structure. Once at the top Borrik looked around in all directions. From here he could see a great distance. Though one of the moons was bright this night, it shone from behind the mages’ tower, casting a deep shadow atop the walkway where Borrik was. Borrik stood unmoving within that shadow, allowing only his eyes to wander this way and that. Still his troops scoured the city hoping to pick up the assassin’s scent once again, but Borrik knew they would not find it.

For a moment Borrik’s attention fell to the sparring field below as the healer worked upon whom he presumed was Sara, though from this distance in the dark, even the great wolf man was unsure. Seth was there too, which Borrik had known even before he had looked below. Even at this distance Borrik could catch the scent of his master. Borrik watched as Seth gathered Sara into his lap, and the healer began pacing for some unknown reason. Borrik watched his master for a moment longer, and was about to begin scanning the surrounding area once again when he felt more than saw something move not more than fifty yards away. In the great wolf beast’s mind, he was sure of what he had seen, yet looking across the expanse of the stone walkway, no other living thing was present.

Something here was not right, yet Borrik dared not move lest he reveal himself. Then the sound came. Click. Borrik knew something or someone was atop the castle wall with him, and none of the guards who patrolled the wall were anywhere near this position. Something was still out of place, yet Borrik simply could not wrap his brain around it. Then he had an idea. Releasing the exact image he could see before him to the pack consciousness, Borrik sent with the image a feeling of unease and questioning. Three answers came in return, and two of them were the same. Shadows.

Quickly Borrik scanned the area ahead of him. He studied quickly the way the stone surfaces reacted in the moonlight and almost immediately found a discrepancy. Just as Borrik lunged, from the overcast shadow of the mage’s tower projected upon the castle wall came another sound, seemingly from nowhere, yet somewhere in front of him. Thoomp, clank.

Just once the sound came as Borrik barreled into something he could not see upon the top of the wall. Grabbing at whatever the thing was, Borrik bore it down off the wall with him where they both fell nearly a dozen stories to crash upon the roof of the knight’s garrison. Borrik felt bones snap upon impact, both his and the assassin’s. As pain began to overtake his body, Borrik watched as the assassin became distinguishable from their surroundings upon the roof. However, even with a broken leg, among several other injuries, the murderer made yet another attempt to flee. Dragging one useless leg behind him, the assassin rose and made for the edge of the roof. Borrik refused to give the man another chance to kill his master, and with more broken and shattered bones than whole ones, the giant werewolf lunged with every muscle he could muster and dug his claws into the assassin’s throat from behind. The blow once again drove them both over the side. Borrik and his prey fell the remaining story to the cobblestones below in a twisted mess of flesh and fur as blood began to puddle upon the ground beneath them.

*****

Sara heard the distinctive sound that had marked her for death earlier in the night, but this time she knew what it meant. As the thoomp, clank sounded, Sara, acting by instinct alone, snatched the bolt from the air with lightning reflexes. This one would not strike her in the chest. Looking up so see the source of the missile, Sara watched as Borrik raced across the top of the defensive wall and with an audible crunch, leapt from the wall altogether. As if the world slowed for an instant, Sara watched as Borrik plummeted unnaturally slowly, grappling with something that to her was invisible. As the wolfman disappeared from view above the roof of the garrison, a loud crash sounded and immediately Sara knew Borrik to be dead. Without some form of a blessing, none could have survived such a fall. Yet as she watched, a man appeared at the edge of the roof, ribs protruding from his chest and dragging a broken leg behind him. Sara had not seen the man fall, but knew it now to be the assassin. It mattered little though, for in less than an instant, the man was attacked from behind by a mass of fur and blood. Borrik had flung himself bodily at the assassin to assure the man did no further damage. With both a crack and a gruesome splat the two entangled bodies hit the cobblestones. Nowhere on Thurr would Sara be able to find another man as loyal to her husband as Borrik had been. He had been an unquestioning ally from the day they had first met the priest. Now he had given his life to protect his master.

Sara would miss the handsome yet fearsome warrior her husband had created. Laying Seth upon the ground, Sara stood to approach the fallen mangled bodies. Daniella watched as Sara neared the pile of ruined flesh and fur. Neither of them expected to see the large clawed hand rise, beckoning them silently for aid. Sara, jaw dropping, spun to once again call the healer to duty, but Daniella simply shook her head.

“What do you mean, no?” Sara demanded threateningly.

“Even if I knew his anatomy, I am spent. We should send for another,” Daniella answered slowly.

“There is no time to send for another. He has minutes at best,” Sara shouted, unwilling to give up. “You must heal him! Bone is bone, flesh is flesh, mend what you can.”

“It will do little good, your majesty,” the healer responded. “His organs are surely ruined. Even if I mend his bones and flesh he will die. I have no knowledge of the rest of his anatomy. I am sorry,” Daniella said with finality.

Sara stood in shock, not knowing what to do. If he could be saved, Seth would stop at nothing to save Borrik, and neither would she. Sara had one option available, though she knew not what the consequences might be. She had a feeling, however, that she knew better than anyone else the cost of this decision.

Like a lithe dancer Sara sprinted across the grass of the sparring field to retrieve her twin blades before rushing back to Borrik’s side upon the cobblestones. Grasping his huge paw-like hand with her own petite fingers, she raised his wrist and bit deeply into his flesh before placing the handle to one of her daggers in his palm. She forced his fingers to grasp the handle, and thrust the blade into her own flesh.

Having stabbed Seth, Sara had accidentally absorbed a great amount of life within a few moments. That immense influx of life had allowed her to heal nearly instantly. Now she shared with Borrik her own altered life force. It did not begin immediately, but soon Sara watched fascinated yet disgusted as bones began to move beneath Borrik’s flesh, like living beings crawling around within him. When his body began to take shape once again, Sara removed the blade from her flesh and watched as Borrik’s healing was completed. In less than a quarter of an hour, Borrik disentangled himself from the corpse of the assassin and rose to his full height before once again falling to his knees to kneel before Sara.