Journeyman Warsmith Read online

  Kevon had just been awakened for his shift on watch. The moonless night and patchy cloud cover obscured the already dim starlight. That, combined with the prohibition on campfires after dusk, made them effectively blind.

  “Phes-Movra!” came the cry from the center of camp, and the sky lit up as Mirsa sprayed fire in a wide swath from the entryway of her wagon. The butt of the staff she wielded jostled as two of her guard detail squeezed past her to raise their stout wooden clubs against the horrors that filled the air.

  “Fools!” Mirsa shouted, shoving her nearest guardian, sending him sprawling off the wagon. “Stand clear!” The Master Wizard shoved back the sleeves of her nightshirt and began chanting and loosing more bolts of flame from her staff.

  Kevon watched the scene with a sense of frozen detachment. His sword was in his hand, but he did not remember drawing it.

  Half a dozen torches flared to life around camp, as coolheaded combat veterans worked oil and rags to bring more steady light to the battle. Lit torches were passed to the waiting hands of those too stunned to act.

  The Seeker heard a familiar screech behind him. He whirled and slashed, severing the arm and wing of an imp that had been headed straight for him. He ran three steps and stomped on the flailing creature’s neck, crunching bones and silencing the awful keening.

  The shrieks came from all around him, the dull black creatures soaring on sickly yellow-orange wings just at the edges of the torchlight. Archers loosed bolts and arrows into the darkness, to little effect.

  Mirsa’s barrage of staff-powered flames slowed, and the Wizard sagged visibly. Even controlling so much stored energy was quickly exhausting her.

  Fully half the company now held lit torches, the rest circled warily, weapons at the ready. The screeching quieted, and Kevon could no longer see the fluttering of wings at the edge of his vision.

  The Wizard sighed heavily, and steadied herself on the shoulder of one of her escorts. She let the staff clatter to the carriage floor, and slumped even further as the destructive impulses of the Enchanted weapon left her.

  The calm lasted only a few moments. One of the torchbearers near Kevon cried out as something struck him in the back, sending him sprawling. The torch he held tumbled into the dirt and sputtered out.

  Kevon rushed toward the man, but the pale, hunched figure atop the fallen soldier hissed and slashed at the man’s back with a clawed hand before leaping into the night on impossibly long legs.

  Two more torchbearers went down.

  “Form up around the wagons!” Carlo called above the panicked cries of untried soldiers. “Torches to the center!”

  Kevon stepped past the ring of torches and gazed into the night with slowly adjusting eyes. He could see the leapers hanging just out of clear view, taking lurching bounds at unexpected intervals to circle the company.

  One of the creatures thumped to the ground two sword-lengths away from Kevon, an imp twitching erratically in its mouth. The leaper eyed Kevon for a second before springing back into the darkness.

  What would it be like if they were working together? Kevon wondered as he stepped back, eyeing the sickly yellow patch of spilled blood on the ground.

  The company stood watchful for another hour before Carlo came around and let every fourth man rest, a two-hour nap beneath the wagons.

  Kevon stayed awake and watchful until the last shift, and the first glow of morning showed in the east. Knowing that the imps, at least, would be seeking shelter from the day was relief enough that Kevon fell right to sleep as soon as he crawled in to his bedroll.

  Chapter 6

  Morning brought Kevon’s quest into harsh perspective. Over a dozen men had been lost. Four of the Destriers lived, because the men had rushed to save their horses. Two of the others had died of their wounds during the night. Of the four remaining mounts, only two were mostly uninjured. One was limping badly and refused to eat.

  Traces of blood and trampled ground were all that remained of those that had been lost. The imps and ‘night leapers’ as the men were calling them, had either consumed or carried off every scrap.

  Carlo made rounds, personally inspecting wounds for signs of infection, ordering several men to take healing potions. After meeting with his division leaders, the Commander pulled Kevon aside.

  “Are we close enough?” Carlo asked wearily. “Can you make it the rest of the way on your own?”

  “We’re about ten days out, on foot, moving during the lightest hours,” Kevon answered. “It’s closer than we were counting on.”

  The Blademaster nodded. “I would bring the whole company along, if I thought it would help. These men…” Carlo struggled to find the words. “They would follow wherever I led, to end this madness. But I can’t take them deeper into this, not when there is another way. I’m going to have to trust that the three of you can somehow make it through. We’ll stay here again tonight, but we’re leaving in the morning.”

  Kevon nodded and turned to leave.

  “But,” Carlo gripped Kevon’s shoulder until the young Warsmith turned back to face him. “Don’t think I won’t bring back a full battalion to make sure. I still don’t like not knowing how you’re managing this.”

  The Seeker forced a smile, and hoped that everything would be set right by the time a force that large could make it back even this far. “Carlo…” Kevon began, “You’ve trusted me this far, and I suppose I should do the same. People should know what they face if we fail.” He reached into his tunic and withdrew a folded letter, sealed with red wax, marked with the signet symbol that Carlo had carved for him over a year ago. “Open this when you reach Navlia, when the troops are settled, and you’re sitting at your desk. I think by then, you’ll be ready.”

  Carlo accepted the letter, and stared at the seal for a moment before grunting in amusement. He nodded to Kevon and walked back toward the center of camp, issuing orders as he went.

  The kitchen crew started cooking a late breakfast while the rest of the company made preparations. Mirsa scowled in disapproval as she watched extra bedding and casks of oil loaded into her carriage. When all that remained in the arms-wagon was the cavalry’s heavy armor and barding, and various other items not worth carrying, breakfast was ready.

  There was plenty, and it was good. Kevon stopped himself short of overindulging, but the rest of the men ate heartily. Several friends had died the night before, more could die in the coming days. No one would starve.

  After breakfast and a brief rest, the hostlers managed to harness two of the Destriers, and haul the heavy arms-wagon into a field, far from the road. They no longer needed it, it would be foolish to try and stretch their defenses around it any longer. The hostlers brought the warhorses back and tied them with the others in between the two remaining wagons.

  Carlo ordered the company to resume resting in shifts, to prepare for another night of battle. Details were formed for care of the injured, burial of the dead, and gathering of fuel for torches and bonfires. Kevon, Waine, and Bertus managed to rest the first shift, and were conveniently assigned to collect firewood just before the cooks started lunch. Bertus secured rations for the three of them, packing his bag as full as he could without drawing undue attention.

  Waine flirted once more, unsuccessfully, with Mirsa, before leading his friends off toward the tower. The party stalked down the road until they were sure they were no longer visible from camp before they abandoned all attempts at stealth. Certain the bulk of the danger would come at night, they hurried as fast as they could toward the base of the nearby mountains.

  They reached the foothills of the southern wall of the valley as the late afternoon shadows began to deepen. Though several hours of light remained, the lack of direct sunlight was particularly unnerving.

  Even though their ultimate goal was down in the valley, the three continued upward, toward the steeper part of the mountain. Soon, they found what they were looking for, a small cave in one of the wrinkles at the base of the mountain.

/>   Kevon peered around the edge of the entrance, spells at the ready. He knew that such an appealing place for them to hide at night could be just as tempting for creatures of the dark to use during the day.

  Seeing nothing, Kevon glanced back at Waine, who moved up and eased into the opening, sword bared. Kevon followed, a tongue of magical flame suspended over his upturned palm for light, ready to direct into an attack if needed.

  There was nothing to fear. The crack narrowed to nothing less than thirty feet from the entrance, and was completely empty. Bertus collected their packs and set to making things more comfortable while Kevon and Waine hauled rocks to stack in the entrance. After the two Warriors had the entrance mostly blocked, they ate and rested while Bertus carefully placed the last few smaller stones to completely seal them in.

  “Easier than I thought it would be,” Kevon commented, feeding power into a Light rune, bathing the narrow cave in a soft glow. “We’ll see how it works, come full dark.”

  Bertus edged by Kevon to the back of the cave and wedged himself into his bedroll, making sure his crossbow was within reach. Waine did much the same, staying nearer to the blocked entrance, readying both sword and bow.

  The three talked softly for a little while, concerned more about how Carlo and the rest of the company would fare this night than themselves.

  Kevon felt his reserves drained below where he felt comfortable, and began dimming the light. The others nodded, and Kevon released the magic, returning the interior of the cave to total darkness.

  Chapter 7

  A thin shaft of morning sunlight speared through the rocky barricade, striking a rough patch of rock and splashing dimly around the cramped space. The muted glow teased Kevon back to wakefulness, and his startled gasp instantly woke the others.

  “Oh! Good morning!” Bertus said cheerfully. “Late morning, more like,” he amended, yawning. “I think we all needed that rest.”

  The Warsmith remained silent, thinking. Getting enough rest had been one of the concerns for this leg of the journey from the beginning. Now, dwindling rations and a lack of any game to hunt was another major factor. They could survive on what they carried with them for a week, maybe more. If today was wasted because they had slept too long…

  He forced his concerns to the back of his mind. He got up and started taking rocks that Waine handed him, and passed them to Bertus, who stacked them neatly about halfway down the length of the cave.

  When the entrance of the cave was open enough that they could pass through without much difficulty, the three climbed over what was left of the rock pile, and out into the morning sun.

  It was later than Kevon would have liked, but not by much. The sun hung only a hand’s-breadth off the horizon, and was warming away the last of the morning chill.

  “We can’t depend on shelters like this for the rest of the trip,” Kevon sighed. “It would be nice, though.”

  Bertus shrugged. “Go look for one. I’ll stay around here and see if I can dig up something to eat.”

  The Seeker looked at Waine.

  The Adept grinned. “I’ll take the far side, I can cover more ground. Scout until noon, then come back?”

  Although he did not really want to split up, there was a greater chance of finding another shelter if they did. “All right,” Kevon agreed. “Can we eat first?”

  After a quick meal, the group said their goodbyes and parted way. Kevon held to the south end of the valley, while Waine struck out northwestward to the other side.

  After several minutes, Kevon could no longer see Bertus or the camp behind him, and shortly thereafter he lost track of Waine through the sparse trees and other growth. The only sounds were the soft crunch of dry earth beneath his boots, and the occasional buzz of an insect.

  Kevon suddenly felt out of his element. The glimmer of his magical reserves in his mind’s eye, and the weight of the guard-issue shortsword at his hip were some comfort, but Kevon was used to the strength of his friendships helping carry him through his trials.

  Once again, Kevon began to doubt himself. Granted, he’d accomplished things, but much of that had been luck, or trickery. In fair combat, he’d be no match for Waine or Carlo. He had few traditionally useful magical Arts mastered, and felt that his Blacksmithing apprenticeship had been rushed. The fact that he was able to do all three, as no one else could, still brought a smile to his face.

  He kept walking, trying to be extra aware of his surroundings while ignoring the ache in his stomach. The sun burned high in the sky, but he pressed on. He could see the end of one of the foothills, and wanted to get a look at what lay beyond before turning back.

  As he got closer, Kevon decided to climb over the ridge, rather than walk around the base. Halfway to his target destination, he stopped to rest and down the last few mouthfuls from his waterskin. Minutes later, Kevon reached the top of the ridge. He continued over far enough that he wouldn’t be silhouetted on the ridgeline, and sat down to rest and survey this new section of landscape.

  Between the brightness of the midday sun, and the choking dust that mingled with sweat to run into Kevon’s eyes, he almost didn’t see the cave entrance. It was half-covered behind a waist-high scrub brush, and looked like it could have been an animal den at one time.

  The Warsmith hurried as quietly as he could to within a dozen yards of the entrance. He was alone, so he’d have to do this differently. Kevon envisioned the symbol for Light, and powered it up, focusing the energy into a small globe. Concentrating, he willed the sphere into the cave’s mouth.

  The glowing orb floated a few yards into the tunnel, illuminating the interior nicely. Kevon shifted his focus and directed the globe around the tunnel’s bend.

  Then the shrieking started.

  Four imps flew around the corner to the cave mouth. The rear imp crashed into the rock wall and slumped to the ground. The remaining three screeched and flapped toward the entrance.

  He dropped his Light spell and backpedaled while he formed the symbol for Fire in his mind. He felt the warmth of the afternoon sun beating down on him, and fed that into the rune with everything else he had. He shouted triumphantly as the rune blazed bright red, and flames rushed from his outstretched palm, incinerating the first two imp-demons and charring the third’s wing and arm, sending it spinning to crash into the brush a few paces from him.

  Out of magic, Kevon drew his sword and leaped at the wounded creature, slicing its head neatly from its body. He turned to enter the tunnel to dispatch the last imp, but it had started crawling back into the darkness, chittering. Other voices chattered back, and Kevon was not prepared to face any more of them, at least not by himself. He wiped his sword clean on a piece of cloth, returned it to its sheath, and immediately started back to the east.

  The return trip was swifter, Kevon was not as intent on searching for caves as he had been on the way over. He kept replaying the battle over and over in his mind, impressed with how he’d done under pressure. If the cave needed cleaning out tomorrow, the three of them should have no problem handling the situation.

  As Kevon got closer to the cave where he’d left Bertus, he noticed a plume of smoke coming from that direction. A sense of urgency welled up, and he began jogging.

  Kevon settled into the pace, knowing he could hold it until he arrived back at the cave, but not sure if it would be fast enough. He concentrated on a Movement rune, which sprang to mind easily. He planned his focus, and leaned forward as he began to run. Kevon trickled pulses of magic into the rune as every footstep fell, amplifying the push-off with the spell, easing the physical exertion while doubling his speed. He factored in the distance to his goal, and estimated the physical and magical reserves he would have when he reached it.

  Kevon redoubled his pace. His legs were devouring the distance at an alarming rate. After several near-misses with rocky outcroppings and snarls of brush, Kevon reduced his speed to where he felt comfortable that he would not misstep and fall, a delay now would certainly kill them al
l.

  Minutes later, Kevon sped over a hillock that was the last obstacle that obscured his view of the campsite, and the source of the smoke.

  Bertus crouched between two fire-filled trenches with makeshift smoking racks that looked as if they barely supported the enormous fish that they held. He heard Kevon coming down the hill, and turned in time to see the relieved Seeker nearly tumble as he ended his spell and shifted sideways to dig his boots into the rough earth and skid to a stop.

  “How did you catch those?” Kevon asked, for a moment forgetting the panic of earlier. “I’ve never seen a fish that big.”

  “Crossbow.” Bertus grimaced. “Snapped one of my bolts killing the second one, but I didn’t know how long it would be before there was another chance like this.”

  The Seeker glanced nervously at the twin plumes of smoke that twined together, snaking up into the afternoon sky. Not only did he hope that there were none of the creatures of darkness that could tolerate light, but he also feared the company they’d left the day before. If Carlo and the others had been unable to travel in the early morning, they might be drawn to the fire, and that could ruin everything.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Waine called from a short distance away. “Now I don’t have to go back and finish dragging that leaper’s carcass the rest of the way here.”

  Kevon turned to watch the Adept’s approach. As Waine walked back into camp, Kevon spotted bruises on his friend’s face and neck, and could see that Waine was masking a limp. “Rough fight?” he asked the Adept, knowingly.

  The Adept nodded, eyes closed. “The cave wouldn’t have worked, anyway. The entrance is too big to block off or defend. We’d be better off burying ourselves in the open.”

  “We might have to do that once we start getting closer to the tower,” Kevon agreed, “But the cave I found should work for tomorrow, at least. How many were there?” he asked, overcome with curiosity.

  “Three that I saw,” Waine answered. “And daylight makes them easier to kill, but just barely. Also,” Waine grimaced and drew in a sharp breath. “They kick like horses.”