The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel (28 page)

“Perfect,” Marek said to his scout. “The weather should break by tomorrow, and they’ll ride straight to us. Did you see a suitable place?”

“Suitable place for what?” Holt asked, his voice the dulcet tone of two rocks being ground together.

Marek turned to look at Holt for a moment, exasperation plain on his face. “What don’t you get? A place to ambush them.”

“No,” Holt said, shaking his head. He ran his hand up his jaw and found it covered with rough white stubble, as he hadn’t shaved in days.

“What?” Marek asked incredulously.

“We come at them directly.”

“What?” Marek again asked. He looked around to see the men staring, waiting. He tapped the old soldier on his shoulder and said, “Step outside with me a minute.”

The day grew dark as the sun neared the horizon, though it could not be seen for the great dark clouds that hung overhead spilling their contents. It was definitely warm, and the constant rain added a horribly humid element to the air and a general feeling of misery to those who stood in it. As they exited the barn, their feet squished and sank into the waterlogged mud, which sought to work its way into their boots.

“We ambush them. They won’t stand a chance. I have heard stories of these grave colored people, and there is three of them plus the fire witch.”

“It is time for you to listen to me,” Holt said, and his face was as hard and constant as chiseled stone. “I have done terrible things in service to my country, my god and my lord, Palius. He dies now, and this will likely be the last thing he ever asks of me. Upon his passing, I will retire from the queen’s ranks to some quiet countryside in the West, hopefully to pass soon myself. I will not have my last act under his command be carried out with shame or dishonor. We fight them face to face, with live steel only - no bows, no poison, just the metal of our trade. We fight for Garod and Aquis, we will be victorious.”

“You are set on this, are you old man?” Marek asked rhetorically as he rubbed his eyes. “More men will die than is necessary.”

“I am set upon this course,” Holt said. He then added, “What do you care? The more who die increases the size of your share.”

At this, Marek dropped his hands limply. He looked into Holt’s eyes for a moment and then looked through the rain across the farmer’s field. With nothing else to say, the two men returned to the dry of the barn.

* * *

Upon close inspection, the inn was not the cleanest of establishments, having been overrun by all sorts of pests due to general ill use. Rats moved around the walls and in the corners of the main room, even brazenly crossing it in plain view after a fallen morsel of food. The buckets used for chamber pots had been dumped though not cleaned regularly and had a foul odor from the buildup of human waste. The straw mattresses were full of fleas and lice, and the stables were even worse. Even still, the three Dahken and the woman from Dulkur slept deeply, almost as if dead, and they somehow ignored the filth when faced with the prospect of another night in the rain.

Cor rose slowly, deliberately savoring the pure sunlight that shown through the windows, as the storms had finally passed in the middle of the night. Realizing how fair was the weather, he felt a sudden need to leave the inn behind, and he woke the others. He pushed them into motion, and they gathered their now dry belongings. He breakfasted faster than the others, eating quickly to move on to the task of making sure the horses were well kept and ready, and within the hour they rode away from the village and its inn.

They were not far down the road when they spotted a group of men approaching on foot. At a distance, Cor could see little except the glint of steel, but as they grew closer, it was plainly obvious they were fighting men. Under cloaks and concealing robes, he caught glimpses of sword hilts and armor, and while they did not seem to form a cohesive unit, they still marched as fighters. Perhaps a hundred feet away, Cor counted about a score of them, seemingly led by a picturesque grizzled veteran. He pulled Kelli to a halt.

“Dismount. Now,” he ordered as he swung out of his saddle. “We approach them on foot. Leave the horses to graze.”

“Lord Dahken?” Keth questioned.

“I’ve never learned to fight on horseback. Have you?” He watched as Keth surveyed the approaching men and grimaced, meanwhile a slight and mischievous smile crossed Marya’s face. Both she and Thyss quickly dismounted with nothing to say.

“You expect a fight then,” Keth said as he followed suit.

“I’d rather expect a fight and not have one then have one and not expect it.”

They approached slowly together, in no hurry to cross the distance. The approaching men did not slow or falter when their prey dismounted, and they halved the distance. The men had no heraldic symbols on their armor or shields, for those who carried shields, and Cor somehow doubted this was an escort to Byrverus. He suddenly realized he had left his helm attached to Kelli’s saddle, and he had to fight every instinct to run back to her for it. No doubt such an action would only spur on whatever was about to happen.

“You two stay together,” he said calmly and in a hushed tone. “Protect each other.”

“Who’s going to protect you?” asked Keth.

“I’ll protect all three of you,” Thyss whispered from behind them, and Cor smiled in spite of what approached them.

They came to a stop perhaps fifteen feet from oncoming men, who also stopped, forming a line that measured eight men across. More filed out from behind this line and formed two more lines on either side of the wide road, essentially boxing in Cor’s party, though the rear was still open to them. Cor noted that, but he was sure they would be unable to make a run for it before the sides of the box closed in upon them.

“Lord Dahken Cor?” asked the old soldier directly in front of him. The man’s voice was rough, grating, and he carried himself like a professional soldier.

“I am,” Cor answered strongly, working hard to control both his voice and his muscles as they tensed for battle. There was something else - a low sound in his ears that added to his anxiety, and he noted absently that his right hand was clenched so solidly that it hurt. He forced himself to release the fist. “Who are you, and why have you stopped us?”

“Who I am, we are, doesn’t matter lord. All that matters is that we’ve come before you to draw steel, to fight honorably. Your death, and the death of your companions, is our task. Now, join us in battle.”

The leader, the white haired and bearded soldier, drew his sword, and all of his compatriots also readied their various weapons. However, none of them approached, but simply watched and waited for Cor to also move. Perhaps they were under orders as such. Cor placed his hands on Soulmourn’s hilt and Ebonwing’s handle, feeling great comfort in their presence against his palms, but he hesitated. There were so many to fight, and he had no doubt they were all true warriors, professional fighters and killers.

Learn to be of action
, he heard Naran say.

Cor pulled his weapons and charged headlong to his left. It only made sense - Keth and Marya stood to his right, and Thyss would no doubt buy him a few precious seconds. As he crashed into his first opponents, the roar of flames and a sense of heat to his right rewarded his judgment. He dared not pull his eyes from those in front of him, but Cor knew that Thyss was in action. He could hear the clang of steel and shouts of battle behind him. He fought seven men with the foolhardiness of a crazed man, ignoring blows and dealing his own to the before him, to his left and right. His blood flowed; he knew it, but he also knew that he let their blood in greater amounts than his own. As he felt his wounds give him strength, Soulmourn sang through the air, rending armor and cleaving limbs. Cor lost his senses into the fight, allowing Soulmourn and Ebonwing to guide him as much as he controlled them. Men screamed in agony and frustration at this black armored demon that simply would not die, no matter how hard or often they struck him.

Having never been in battle before, the two younger Dahken hesitated as Cor attacked, fraught with indecision. Keth recovered just in time to parry an incoming attack and dodge another from a great, two handed mace. Marya was slower to react, and she was saved only by intervention from Thyss and a flash of her green saber. Thyss cut the legs out from under a man who laughed as he approached Marya, but in so doing, she nearly lost control of the blazing inferno she had invoked to shield them from six of their attackers. It didn’t seem that Keth and Marya could hold their own against veteran warriors, barely able to defend themselves from blow after blow, but the hired killers did not understand the nature of their prey. Rather than go for the kill, they toyed with the young Dahken as a cat may toy with a mouse. As they wounded the Dahken, their blows were returned with doubled strength that rent through their armor and blades.

The others had split up and were now coming around the fiery barrier, just as Cor moved on the last warrior on his side of the road. Thyss looked upon him in astonishment, just long enough to lose concentration, and the wall of flame dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. The young Dahken, bloodied and fighting more by instinct than skill, still faced three armored men, and three more rushed to join the battle.

The final three moved in to attack Cor from behind, who was drenched in both his own blood and that of his enemies, but he seemed unwounded by the time he thrust his sword cleanly through the steel breastplate of his last foe. Unable to aid Keth and Marya with fire lest she harm them as well, Thyss bowed forward and blew into her open hand as if blowing a kiss, and blue flames roared from her to engulf those who would attack her lover. Two died quickly and horribly, completely drenched in flame; the third, a man protected by all black boiled leather as opposed to steel, turned away just in time to have only his left side ablaze. He dropped off the side of the road, screaming as he rolled across the still wet ground.

Cor turned just in time to see this happen, and he instantly reassessed the situation. With over a dozen men dead or dismembered, only six of their attackers remained, and Cor had little doubt that he and Thyss alone could dispatch the rest. Thyss already engaged with her sword, fighting alongside Marya, but she was too evenly matched with her opponent. This left Keth facing down four battle hardened fighters, including the old soldier who was their leader.

Cor sprinted across the road, and intent on causing as much confusion as possible, he collided with a crash of steel into the nearest of Keth’s attackers. The two men went down together, taking out the legs of another, and the three ended up in a pile of arms, legs and steel. Cor found himself dazed by his brash maneuver, having hit his unprotected head on one of the warriors steel sabatons. He rose shakily, trying to lift the fog from his mind, and found that only one of the men was moving, the other seemingly unconscious. His chainmail clad combatant was on his hands and knees, about to stand, and Cor brought Soulmourn down neatly upon the back of his neck. The chainmail may as well have been wool for all the protection it provided its wearer from Cor’s blade.

Cor whipped himself around at the sound of a woman’s scream full of anger and horror, and he saw Keth impaled through and through upon the old man’s longsword. He’d aimed his weapon perfectly below Keth’s chestpiece, and thick crimson blood and bits of innards dripped off the point that protruded from Keth’s back. The scream had come from Marya, who stood still in shock. His head now clear, Cor moved toward the soldier, who yanked his sword free of Keth’s abdomen and turned to face the new threat. Green steel flashed in the sunlight, and the older man’s swordarm fell to the ground, blood spurting from the stump of his arm that was severed just above the elbow. Full of vengeance and hatred, Cor rammed Soulmourn through Holt’s steel plate hauberk, instantly cleaving the man’s heart in two. As they stood with their faces mere inches apart, Cor watched as a sense of peace, even gratitude, came over the old soldier’s face before he faded into death.

As the body fell to its knees, Cor kicked it off his sword in disgust.

Keth lay in the road, his blood mixing with the brown mud, and Marya pressed her bare hands upon his stomach as if she could staunch the bleeding with them only. He breathed with great difficulty, and it seemed that he could not speak. His face was a visage of suffering as his body trembled, and Cor knew it was a mortal wound. If only Keth had been able to repay the blow, his body would have likely healed enough of the wound for him to survive. Cor kneeled next to his dying Dahken.

“We can do nothing for him,” Thyss said, standing over them. Her body was covered with the sweat and gore of battle, but Cor could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“I can save him,” Marya whispered as she cried, tears streaming down her face and dropping to mix with Keth’s blood.

“I’m sorry Marya, but no you can’t,” Cor said gently, and he placed his left hand over hers.

“Shut up!” she screamed at him. She choke back sobs and shook off Cor’s hand. She looked back to Keth and said softly, “I
can
save you. Let me do this.”

Keth shook his head weakly but insistently, mouthing a word over and over. He looked at Cor, pleading for help, but Cor had no idea what he was supposed to do or not do. Marya pulled one hand away from his wound and placed it softly on his cheek to still his head, leaving a smeared bloody handprint across it. She kissed him gently on the lips, and then without warning slit her palm open widely upon her dagger; blood flowed freely from the flesh that was opened all the way to the bones of her hand. She then pushed her hand heavily against Keth’s ruined belly, and he screamed in bloodcurdling agony. Cor thought to pull her away from Keth, but something held him back. She laid her forehead to his chest as he continued to scream, a scream that grew stronger as he started to breathe easier.

After a few seconds, he quieted and his eyes closed, and Marya slumped against him, as the wind carried Keth’s scream across the plains. They lay unmoving, apparently asleep. Cor reached for Marya’s hand and, in lifting it, found both of their wounds completely gone without a trace.