Journeyman Warsmith Page 6

  “Those are some nice sized salmon,” Waine added as he neared the fires. “It’s been a while since I had any, they weren’t running the last time we came through here.” The Adept Warrior winced as he sat down on a nearby rock. “Bertus, you may have just saved our tails.”

  The Warsmith told his friends of the encounter he’d had with the imps, as they waited for the fish to finish cooking.

  “Well, I’d rather fight imps than leapers,” Waine said cheerfully. “And the cave you found should work even better than this one.”

  The others agreed, and the three sat and waited for dinner in relative silence.

  Bertus carved up a third of the smaller salmon as the first long shadows of evening stretched to where they sat.

  Kevon ate slowly, despite the severity of his hunger. He was unsure how long their food would last, even though Bertus’ catch had more than doubled their provisions. Waine ate slowly also, but it appeared to Kevon that his friend’s difficulty was in the swallowing of his food with bruised neck muscles. Bertus finished quickly, and after looking at the fish wistfully, began sectioning the rest of the food for storage.

  There was little discussion. Tired, bruised, and almost adequately fed, Kevon and Waine covered up the traces of the cook-fires while Bertus hauled supplies back into the narrow cave. Once finished, all three worked to barricade themselves back into the fissure, and began trying to sleep.

  Chapter 8

  The Adept woke at the first hint of light, and roused the others. They quickly dismantled the makeshift doorway and transferred all of their belongings outside of the cave.

  “The fires got dug up,” Waine observed. “We’ll have to be more careful about that.”

  Bertus passed out hunks of smoked fish, and repacked his bags as they ate.

  Kevon finished eating first and walked over to where Bertus was sitting. He lifted the bags Bertus had just arranged, compared them to his own. Together, they were heavier. Kevon walked over and hefted the pack Waine had been carrying. The Adept’s pack was also heavier than Kevon’s.

  “Bertus,” Kevon began, “Would you carry my pack for a while?”

  The youth shrugged. “Sure.”

  The Seeker shouldered Bertus’ two bags with one arm, and held Waine’s pack in the other. “All right, I’ll see you in a while.”

  The runes from the spell he’d used the day before flared to life in Kevon’s mind. He turned and sprinted out of camp, leaving his companions to their own pace. Familiar with the terrain, Kevon picked his path with more surety, avoiding spots that had slowed him before. He reached the last ridge before the cave with magic to spare. He dropped the bags by a shrub just under the ridgeline, and turned around, beginning the sprint back to his friends.

  The Mage accelerated to the speed he felt most comfortable sustaining. Falling into the now-familiar rhythm, he smiled and allowed himself to enjoy the experience. He tried varying his technique, using more power in pulses to launch himself over medium-sized tangles of brush instead of going around them. The longer jumps saved Kevon some distance that he would have had to detour around. The lack of control from the increased interval between steps made Kevon nervous, so he returned to his previous pace.

  If I get all of our supplies over to the cave, the others won’t have to worry about packing them, Kevon thought. They’ll get here faster, less worn out. I can wait there after this trip, and have full use of my magic before they arrive.

  He rounded a hill and spotted Waine and Bertus a short distance away. He slowed, and sat down, waiting for them to reach him.

  “Tired?” Bertus asked as they approached.

  Kevon stood and shook his head. “Drained. Without magic, I could keep that pace up for about five seconds.” He took his pack back from Bertus, and began walking alongside his friends. “In a few minutes, I’ll be rested enough to run this back to drop with the rest of our things,” Kevon explained. “You’ll only have your weapons to worry about carrying, and by the time you reach the cave, I should be more than ready for a fight.”

  Kevon kept pace with them until they reached a tree that he had noticed before as about halfway between caves. With his full magic nearly restored, he focused on renewing his Movement spell.

  “See you in a while.”

  The Seeker sprinted off toward their destination once more, elated to be running again. The amount of concentration the spell required began to frustrate Kevon, and he wished he’d been able to bring along his rod of Movement. He sighed, and swallowed a bug. Flustered, he stumbled to a stop. I’m almost there anyway, Kevon thought as he tried to clear his throat. The other things should be just up-

  He dropped to the ground as soon as he spotted the orcs. They won’t see me…I can hide in the brush… he thought hopefully. Then he saw the cloud of dust his passing had raised billowing over him.

  The Mage stood as the orcs noticed the dust cloud.

  The smaller scout shrieked and fumbled with a short bow as it backed away. The larger one spat out a mouthful of half-chewed fish and dropped the bag it was holding to pick up the cudgel that lay at its feet.

  The scout loosed an arrow that fell harmlessly short, and turned to run.

  Kevon sighed. The last thing he needed was this orc running off and bringing more. He concentrated, and expended the rest of his magic into a burst of flame that lanced out and caught the fleeing orc squarely in the back.

  The larger orc looked over its shoulder at the squealing scout. It grunted, raised its cudgel, and began advancing toward Kevon.

  Stupid. Kevon thought angrily. I should have held something back for this. Out of options, he drew his sword and waited for the orc to come closer.

  As the orc approached, Kevon realized how much larger this one was than the smaller scouts he’d seen before. He stood only chest-high to the beast, who was only beginning to grow tusks. Carlo’s killed four that were bigger than this? Kevon wondered as the young bull lunged the last dozen feet, swinging its cudgel high overhead.

  Kevon surged forward and to the left, dragging his sword along the orc’s ribcage with a solid two-handed grip. He spun away and leaped back, fearing a backswing from the orc’s club that was easily twice as long as his sword.

  The bull turned, hefting the cudgel again. It bellowed and stepped forward to swipe at Kevon once more.

  He held his ground and the club whizzed past him. He leapt in and swung at the hand that held the club, but missed. A chip spun away, gouged from just above the orc’s handhold. Kevon grimaced at the damage he knew was done to the blade’s sharpened edge.

  The orc grunted and stepped to the right, reversing the club into a backhanded swing.

  The Seeker ducked and rolled under the attack, sword slashing upward as he sprang to his feet, feeling the blade cut through the hide armor before glancing off of something more solid. He crouched to avoid the orc’s follow-through punch, and sprang into a roll that put him behind the orc once again.

  The orc howled with rage, whirling to face Kevon. It charged at him twice, with savage, sweeping attacks that the Seeker barely evaded.

  As the orc rushed him for the third time in quick succession, Kevon noticed that it held its left arm tightly to its side. The effort seemed to slow, but not stop, the flow of greenish blood from a gash in the creature’s underarm.

  He’s slowing down, Kevon thought. I can outlast him.

  After a few more close calls, Kevon wasn’t so sure. The running he’d done the last two days was starting to take its toll. His legs burned, and he struggled to keep his breathing under control.

  Kevon could feel the fear rising as he grasped at possible options. Even though the orc was wounded, it might still overtake him if he tried to flee to rejoin his friends. He glanced over to the nearby cave entrance, wondering if the opening was too narrow for his large foe.

  I can’t take the chance, Kevon thought, dodging an overhand strike from the orc and landing a shallow gash to the front of its right leg. If more imps are sl
eeping there…

  Kevon danced around another swing of the orc’s cudgel, and darted inside for another swipe at his opponent’s already wounded leg. His sword cut deep, slicing through muscle and tendon, sticking for a moment in bone. Kevon twisted the blade free and lunged aside to clear the range of the orc’s weapon.

  Too late… he thought, as the club struck him from behind, sending him sprawling toward the cave mouth. He could hear the orc’s pained grunting behind him, but did not waste any effort looking back.

  Twenty yards from the cave’s entrance, Kevon started shouting as loudly as he could manage. The orc behind him raged in frustration. Kevon veered to the side just before he reached the opening, and instead bounded from a rock formation near the entrance to the lip of stone just above it. He scrambled up the steep hillside, grasping at weeds and rocks to speed his ascent.

  Hoping he’d climbed far enough, Kevon turned around and leaned back against the hillside, bracing his feet on the ledge below him. His chest heaved as his lungs demanded more air than he’d been allowing them. Dust and sweat stung Kevon’s eyes, obstructing his view.

  The ledge Kevon stood on trembled as the orc snarled and slammed its club into the hillside below. Through the clearing dust, Kevon could see he was well out of reach, unless the orc decided to climb up after him. Kevon wiped his eyes and slowed his breathing, continuing to watch the wounded creature.

  Blood stained the orc’s whole left side below the lacerated arm. The orc kept glancing along the route Kevon had taken to get up the hill, but as the minutes dragged on, its shoulders sagged more; it showed no real interest in following Kevon up the steep embankment. Finally, it grunted and turned to walk away.

  Kevon pitched a rock and hit the orc in the head. “Hey!” He called. “Come back here!”

  The orc roared as loudly as it had when the battle was just beginning. It took two steps, and flung its club at Kevon. The weapon cartwheeled toward the stunned Seeker, and slammed into the hillside an arm’s length above his head. The cudgel tumbled down, hitting Kevon in the shoulder and sword-arm, almost knocking him off the ledge. He shrugged the weapon off, and watched it fall the rest of the way down the hill.

  The wounded bull dropped out of Kevon’s vision for a moment. It reappeared with its recovered weapon in hand, growling.

  Over the throaty rumble of the orc, Kevon heard another sound that made him smile.

  The orc backed away as the shrill keening of the imps grew louder. At least five of the tiny demons swarmed out of their sheltering cave and began attacking. The orc waved his club, trying to fend them off, but his reactions were too slow. In seconds, the imps had torn the orc’s face to bloody ribbons. Throwing its club down, the orc swatted at its face with both hands. Two of the imps fell, crushed by fists nearly as large as themselves.

  The struggle lasted a dozen seconds. The imps that evaded the orc’s flailing defenses fell to the midday sun. The orc staggered back, looking at the smoldering piles of ash, wiping weakly at its face. It slumped to the ground, using both arms to keep itself upright. It paid no attention to the blood still gushing freely from its side.

  The Seeker began his cautious descent, watching the fallen orc as much as his footing. Before he was even halfway down, the orc moaned and fell backwards.

  He hurried the rest of the way, and approached the still form with sword at the ready. The orc’s eyes were already glazed over. He poked it in the side with the tip of his sword. Seeing no reaction, Kevon sheathed his sword, and walked up near the ridgeline to sit by the supplies and wait, watchful for more orcs.

  It was nearly an hour before Kevon peeked over the ridge and spotted his friends. He stood and waved to them, motioning for them to hurry.

  “What happened?” Bertus gasped as he reached Kevon just seconds after Waine. “That looks like orc blood…”

  “It is,” Waine said, eyes sweeping over the hillside. “How many were there, and did any get away?”

  The Warsmith shook his head. “Two of them, a bull and a scout. The scout was easy…” He pointed to where the smaller orc lay hidden in the brush. “The other…”

  “How long ago?” Waine pressed.

  “An hour, maybe more.” Kevon answered.

  Waine sighed. “We need to hide, and soon. I don’t know how well the night creatures tolerate the orcs, but they’re going to be a danger for at least three more hours.”

  “Imps don’t care for them,” Kevon offered, smiling. “And the cave may already be clear. I didn’t check it yet.”

  The Adept drew his sword and hunting knife. “You’re ready, right? Since this happened an hour ago?”

  Kevon nodded and followed the Adept, preparing a Light spell as he walked.

  “Watch our backs,” Waine called back to Bertus, but the boy had already loaded his crossbow. The Adept crouched to enter the cave, and Kevon formed his Light spell a few yards ahead, near the bend in the tunnel. Hearing nothing, they pressed forward, and Kevon focused the light further into the passage.

  The floor of the passageway, which had slanted uphill to the bend, now turned downward. Waine continued slowly ahead, almost able to stand upright.

  The Seeker crept along behind Waine, listing to the left so he could see to direct his Light spell. They made their way around another bend, deeper into the mountainside. About ten yards later, the sphere of Light seemed to stop illuminating the tunnel walls. Kevon intensified his concentration, and the globe brightened, becoming painful to look at.

  “Don’t!” Waine hissed. “It’s a…”

  Wingbeats and shrieks punctuated the silence. Waine backed up, and Kevon softened his concentration and drew the floating orb back into the tunnel from the cavern beyond.

  The first imp swooped into the tunnel, skimming the upper right side of the opening, staying as far from the light as it could. Waine batted at the creature with the flat of his blade, then twisted his body to the left to dodge the flurry of wings and claws as he slashed downward at the tumbling imp.

  Focusing on the Light spell, Kevon sidestepped and avoided the injured creature. He smiled as he heard the crunch of bones and a triumphant cry from Bertus.

  The other two imps charged the tunnel a moment later. One took the same path as the first, high and to the right. The other came in lower, to the left. Waine swung high, his sword-tip glancing off the tunnel wall before biting into the rightmost imp’s collarbone.

  The imp to the left screeched and flapped, claws outstretched toward Waine, who was trying to turn sideways in the center of the passage to avoid both creatures. The downbeat of the imp’s wing passed through the light sphere, scattering the rune in Kevon’s mind.

  Flames flared to life from the contact, throwing nightmarish sweeping shadows along the length of the tunnel as the burning imp tumbled past Waine. The miniature demon crashed into Kevon’s left shoulder even as the Mage turned and leaned to avoid it.

  He refocused his will into another Light rune, emitting a stream of light from his outstretched palm to play over the thrashing creature.

  Waine quickly dispatched the imp he’d struck with his sword, getting enough light from the blazing pyre the other one had become. “Kevon,” he coughed, raising his arm to shield his eyes from the acrid fumes. “Enough!”

  The Mage released the spell, and the companions looked over the scene by the dying flames of the charred imp. Waine edged out into the cavern and stood upright. “Is that all of them?”

  The Seeker crept out of the tunnel and resumed his light spell, shining his cone of light all around the large room. Several fissures extended outward, but nothing large enough to hide an imp or a leaper. Debris littered the floor, evidence of several previous inhabitants. What animal droppings there were seemed old; Kevon could not smell anything over the smoky tang of the burnt imp. “That’s all.” Kevon announced. “If you two will wait outside, I’ll clean this place up.”

  The others exited, conversing quietly.

  Kevon waited alone in the d
arkness until he could no longer hear his friends talking. He stilled his mind and envisioned the symbol for Wind. Picturing the Enhancement rune alongside it, he began infusing them both with power.

  The Wind rune accepted the magic, haltingly at first. The air around Kevon began circling, picking up speed. Two revolutions and it whispered. Two more and it whistled. By the sixth cycle, the wind screamed and tore at his clothes. With the last of his will, Kevon directed the Wind down the tunnel, along with all it carried.

  His ears popped as the pressure in the underground chamber dropped. Sand and dirt from crevices above pattered down on him. Air rushed back in from the tunnel, and as the dust settled, Kevon took another breath.

  Glimmers of light from above and the patch of sunlight from the bend in the tunnel allowed Kevon to make his way outside. He stepped out into the midday sun and stood up straight, stretching. Mounds of imp-flesh burned where they had been ejected from the cave. One, lodged under a bush, smoked heavily. Bertus took turns at trying to kick the carcass free and kicking sand at the flames that jumped up into the low fronds of the brush.

  The Seeker looked around and spotted Waine up the hillside above the cave mouth, scanning the countryside. He left the Adept to his watching, and moved to help Bertus, who was starting to go through the supplies. The orcs had torn through half of the fish, which had to be discarded. The rest of the provisions were untouched, and none of the gear required more than minor repairs.

  Waine met Kevon and Bertus back at the tunnel entrance when they reached it with their packs. “How will we secure this?” he asked. “There are no rocks nearby as there were yesterday.” He paused to spit on the fallen orc’s corpse. “Even if there were, they’d not be proof against orcs.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Kevon answered. His legs felt weak, and the orc baking in the afternoon sun turned his stomach. “I just need to rest, first.”