Sechsdee, the 26th of Harvest, 768 A.E.

  Lamont and his two companions, Davin and Kort, had been trailing Anthea for near on two Ouers, and they were about to overtake them. While they could have overtaken them sooner, it would have spoiled any hope of ambush and surprise. This said of the three Kerathi men that they were either not brave or foolish enough to launch into a headlong attack on the Thaumaturge and her mountainous protector. Being that they were Kerathi and innately had courage in spades, it was caution they were displaying, and perhaps a bit of enjoyment of the hunt.

  This tactic was as accurate a translation of Kerathi warfare as any. Kerathi believe that if the odds are even, throw yourselves headlong at each other, and the strongest and most just will win. Yet, if the odds are stacked in one side’s favor, you must use smarter tactics like ambushes, traps, and feints. Any leader who would purposely choose to use trickery when the sides are even would be seen as a man without honor, and if it were a conflict between two Kerathi tribes, the Sammenkomst would have to make a judgment on whether or not the Kriegegesetze rules on engagement were violated or not.

  This was, however, not a conflict between Kerathi by any except the strictest definition, and it wasn’t anything more than an interpersonal feud. This was not a clan war. Lamont wasn’t about to be made a fool of a second time and so he was taking no chances. They had slowly caught up, with Davin scouting ahead to make sure they did not come upon Anthea and Bedros until they were set up and ready.

  Davin crashed excitedly through the bushes that lined both sides of the road, though to call it a road might have been an exaggeration since it was little more than a pair of wagon wheel ruts in many places. Lamont jumped with a start, wheeling toward Davin with his rifle. When Davin grinned and held up his hands, Lamont scowled at the smaller man.

  “Nelius take you, did you have to do that?” Lamont demanded. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

  “Ahh, but we both knew your finger to be slow. That’s why you’ll be taking the first shot from the place I’ve found for you.” Davin replied nonchalantly, as if they conspired to murder people every Dee.

  Kort dabbed at his sweaty brow with an embroidered handkerchief, a gift from one of the many town girls who favored him. “And what will you and I be doing then, Davin?”

  “You’ll be charging in from another, closer hiding spot after the first shot. You’ll empty your pistols into the girl. I’ll be coming right after you with a pair of knives that I hope to place in that Ox-Man’s gullet.”

  Lamont shook his head. “Knives against that thing? It’s huge.”

  “Anything dies when you stick a couple knives in its throat.” Davin replied darkly, absently fingering the knife scar under his chin.

  “Except you?” Kort asked with a smile filled with perfectly straight teeth.

  “Except me.” Davin agreed.

  Lamont looked each of his friends in the eyes and said, “Let’s do this then. I’m eager to return home. It’s just a shame that Rolf did not accompany his friends, or I’d have been doubly satisfied todee.”

  “The less people we have to kill, the less chance of failure.” Davin remarked.

  “Don’t try to sound like you won’t enjoy this.” Lamont said with distaste. “All three of us know you’re a sick man. You’ll savor this moment for weeks. I recall you saying this morning that there was nothing like hunting something intelligent enough to fight back.”

  “Don’t sound like you know me so well. Friends we may be, but you don’t know the half about me.” Davin warned, wagging a hand-length stiletto knife at Lamont.

  “Fair enough.” Lamont replied, pretending he didn’t care, but the truth was, Davin frightened him sometimes. There was an unpleasant darkness to the man that went beyond just his sense of humor. “Just do your part now and show us where we are to wait in ambush.”

  Davin grinned at Lamont, waving for him and Kort to follow him into the dense foliage that grew beside the road. They moved slowly then to get into their positions, not wanting to alert their prey. Even the bulky Lamont moved with little noise.

  When Lamont finally eased into a small depression between two granite boulders, Anthea and Bedros were just moments away down the road. Lamont smiled to himself as he trained his rifle’s sights on the road, where not too far away, his two friends waited for his shot to signal their attack. They’d rush in and finish the job, perhaps even before he could get a second shot off.

  The funny thing was, he was the one who wanted these two outsiders dead, and here he was taking the least risk. Gandahar seemed to be on his side todee; twisting fate to favor him so obviously was quite a fortuitous sign.

  It was only a few more Mynettes before the pair came into sight. Staring down the length of the barrel, Lamont saw the Ox-Man first on account of his overwhelming size and bulk. Beside him walked the Aurean girl – young, small, and dainty. She’d be the easy one to kill. It was the Ox-Man who would take an effort to kill, so Lamont sighted in on the creature’s chest.

  A single slug might not stop him, but it’d certainly give him pause when it ripped through his vital organs. As much as the Gods seemed to be favoring him todee, it wouldn’t surprise him if the first slug hit the creature’s heart and killed him. Then Rolf needed only to show up in time to die to make the Dee a complete success.

  He blinked and rolled his neck, settled back down, and sighted his target in. Lamont inhaled gently and held his breath, squeezing the trigger. When the hammer fell and the explosion of powder erupted, the slug went tumbling toward its target, looking to Lamont like a reddish comet for just a fraction of a Saycund as it sped away too fast for his eyes to follow.

  Bedros’ nose twitched and his large head turned, moving his whole body with it. Ox-Men had very inflexible necks, so when they were looking at something, their entire body tended to move that way as well.

  This alone wasn’t enough to stop Anthea, who plodded on even though she was footsore and ready for a break. But when her tireless companion’s heavy footfall faltered, she stopped and looked back at him.

  “What is it?” She asked, regarding her friend and protector with a bit of unease. These lands were unfamiliar to her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was perpetually waiting to befall them. Of course, this was a feeling that had not left her since she’d awoke a Dee before outside during her first morning outside of Cenalium.

  Bedros’ nose wrinkled and sniffed at the air as his large brown eyes peered out from his shaggy furred eyebrows. It was not unusual for his ears to toss occasionally, shaking off any number of the local variety of flies or mosquitoes that seemed to like him more than Anthea, even if they could rarely get at him through all that fur. Yet this time they lifted and turned as if he had heard something.

  Bedros made a series of gestures, telling Anthea that he smelled people nearby, even if he couldn’t see them. Anthea frowned and turned to see if she could see anyone for herself, even though there was nothing wrong with Bedros’ eyes. In fact, he probably had better eyesight than her. As she looked, she heard a loud crack from up ahead, followed Saycunds later by a meaty thunk behind her.

  Bedros made a pained noise somewhere between a squeal and a roar. His feet stomped the ground and he tossed his head. Anthea looked back at him, a dumbfounded look on her face as she stared at the blood gurgling out of a wound just below the left collarbone of her companion.

  “Maletos protect us, Bedros. You’ve been shot.” Anthea said, touching her forehead with her middle and forefingers. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  In her mind, she found that what was just starting to happen was not unlike the events of a couple Dees past where Aurean Guardians had surrounded her. Had it been that Dee, she might have taken charge and tried to defend herself. This time was different. This time she froze, and when Kort came running out from his hiding place in the bushes alongside the road, she could do little more than cower beside Bedros. Things were happening too fast, and she had seen too much to cope with in too short a time.

  Instead, she could only stare at the longhaired and clean-shaven Kerathi man, absorbing minute details of his appearance as he charged in with a pair of pistols in his hands. Her mind chose to notice the blue-grey color of his eyes and the musky smell of his cologne instead of dealing with the danger. She experienced things in very detailed slow motion.

  Beside her, Bedros huffed with anger, slinging out his mallet like a child would wield a broom even though it weighed more than thirty Kees. The fur of his arm brushed her face as he pushed her behind him and charged the Kerathi male, who regarded the giant Ox-Man with surprise.

  While Ox-Men usually moved with a deliberate and slow sort of motion, when they are angered or frightened, they are capable of astonishingly quick movement. There is little as frightening among the peoples of Elegia as a herd of Ox-Men charging at you in anger. This was not a herd though. It was just one, and even as few as one Ox-Man conveys the majesty and terror of a people who are never so inhuman as they are when enraged.

  Kort fired both pistols point blank at Bedros. The acrid smoke that discharged fiery lead slugs hid the slugs’ trajectory from Anthea, but she heard one crash through the trees to her left as well as another grunt of pain from Bedros.

  “Stop!” She screamed, not knowing what else to do, but then she heard the crunch of gravel under someone’s feet behind her. When she wheeled around and saw Davin coming at her with a pair of knives and a grin as twisted and ugly as the scar under his chin, her hands found a purpose. She drew the arc-sword belted at her side and in one fluid motion, sent a blast of electrical fury at Davin.

  Davin, a veteran of many fights and more than a few murders, read the motion clearly and easily sidestepped. The hair on his arms and head stood up as the electricity discharged past him into the air. And without more than a moment spent, he was inside Anthea’s guard. His preferred hand darted in and stabbed its knife through the thickness of her bicep.

  Anthea screamed in pain and dropped the arc-sword. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, and she wobbled as her knees threatened to give out from the searing agony in her arm. Davin left the knife in her arm and used his freed arm to grasp around the small of her back to hold her up while his other hand kept his second stiletto point pressed into the soft skin of her neck.

  He leaned in close, his breath smelling of tooth decay and his morning meal. “I’m going to enjoy this, girl. It’s not every Dee I get to kill a Thaumaturge. You’ll be my first, as well as my first Aurean.” He shuddered then, his eyes taking on an ecstatic haze.

  Anthea whimpered, letting her head loll back as the pain threatened to take her into unconsciousness. Black dots swam at the edges of her peripheral vision, growing more multitudinous with each passing moment. She felt the warm trickle of her own blood running down the hollow of her neck from the place where the razor-sharp stiletto was piercing ever so slightly through her skin; the blood dribbled down and soaked into the collar of her overcoat, but it was not nearly as much as the blood soaking her sleeve as her pierced arm hung limply at her side.

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  As close as Davin pressed against her, she could feel the stirring in his loins as his manhood press against her stomach through the layers of both their clothes. She was not so innocent and sheltered that she did not recognize it for what it was. She shivered in disgust and pain, realizing just how much this man was enjoying causing her pain.

  She saw Bedros swinging his mallet, trying to crush the nimble man who looked so small next to the Ox-Man. A couple of his swings came dangerously close, close enough that Kort called out to his ally for help.

  “Hurry up, Davin, I need help here!”

  Davin frowned, interrupted from his revelry. “Looks like our dance is over now, girl.”

  A crack rang out. Kort grunted in pain. Davin and Anthea both looked back to see what had happened. Kort staggered and clenched a hand to a growing crimson stain on his chest. That was just enough of a hesitation in the man’s step for Bedros to connect with a horizontal swing of his mallet. His blow crushed the man’s entire torso, snapping his bones like twigs. Kort was killed instantly and his body was flung a dozen Mayters away into the gully alongside the road.

  Davin howled in frustration, but his distraction was all Anthea needed. With her uninjured left arm, she slid her hand between her and Davin and grasped down on his groin as tightly as she could. He stiffened in surprise and then pain as her fingers dug in hard even through his clothes. The stiletto at her neck fell away as he tried to step back, giving her all the room she needed to let go of him and then follow up with a knee to his groin.

  He fell to the ground, writhing in agony and calling curses down on her. She stooped to pick up her arc-sword and flung a strong bolt of electricity into his chest. The scent of burnt leather, wool, skin, and hair filled the air. Smoke rose from Davin’s blackened chest, his hair smoldered, froth bubbled at his mouth, and his eyes bulged sickly as if they were trying to escape from his face.

  Another shot rang out, pinging off the ground at her feet. She yelped in surprise and looked around for the source of it. Anger welled up in her chest when she saw that Rolf was running toward her and Bedros with a pair of rifles in his hands.

  “Have you come to finish the job?” She shouted at him in accusation.

  “It wasn’t me!” Rolf protested. “It’s Lamont. He’s hiding up ahead. Get off the road!”

  Seeing the sense in his words, regardless of whether he was the shooter or not, Anthea willed her legs not to wobble and ran for the trees along the road, followed closely by Bedros. Another slug tumbled past them, burying itself in a tree. From the direction it came, Anthea knew Rolf had been telling the truth. There was someone else out there shooting at them, and it was likely Lamont.

  From her hiding place, she could see Rolf advancing through the woods, taking advantage of each boulder, tree, and whatever other cover he could find as he moved. Clearly, he had an idea of where the shooter was. She felt helpless hiding, but she didn’t know how else to help.

  Beside her, Bedros lay on the ground and breathed unevenly, his body wracked with pain. Anthea looked at him in concern, suddenly feeling that she had betrayed her friend by not checking his wounds immediately. Thick blood matted his coarse fur to his skin around his two wounds. The first slug was just above his heart, likely through a lung, and the second slug had entered just above his navel. His organs had been pierced and he was dying.

  She mentally made the decision then to leave Lamont to Rolf, for she had her own matters to attend to. The Kerathi could settle their dispute on their own. A friend’s life was far more important. She carefully unstrapped all the baggage that was still fastened around Bedros’ shoulders and drew her gem-studded box of flowers and herbs out of Bedros’ pack.

  Many of the flowers were one of a kind, as there had not been room for more than one sample of each. She despaired about finding replacements for them. These had all been grown and tended by her hands, which greatly increased their potency. To just pick some she found or to buy from someone else could greatly decrease the magnitude of what she could do.

  Digging through the small box, with layers of white silk separating each tier of flower blossoms, her hand came to rest on a small hard nub. She drew it out – an acorn beginning to crack open. A small sprout with a pair of little leaves was beginning to grow through the crack. The cap was still on the end of the acorn, which was a good sign for flower enchanters.

  She held the acorn in front of her, focusing her mind on the task before her. The acorn left her hand, hovering between her and Bedros. Bedros weakly watched what she did, in too much pain to do much more than lay there, though his hands clenched and unclenched as he struggled to breath, his lungs already filling with fluids.

  The acorn began to glow with whitish light as her head tipped back and her thoughts found syllables.

  Acorn, seed of the mighty oak, heal that which is torn and that which is broke;

  Lend me your light that I might save one who has done only right.

  The acorn glowed brighter still, blinding to behold. Its light stabbed out, striking Bedros in each of his wounds. He twitched and jerked as the light and life from the acorn permeated his wounds, forcing out the slugs and any foreign matter that did not belong. Then the wounds began to close. Flesh mended, arteries and veins closed, organs repaired themselves, and the wounds grew shut.

  The acorn dissipated in a puff of smoke then, and Anthea sagged. She weakly let herself be drawn into Bedros’ protective arms, and they lay there in exhaustion. Healing was not any less strenuous than being healed.

  They could only wait for Rolf’s return.

  “Lamont! I’m coming for you.” Rolf called over his shoulder. He laid low against a downed tree trunk. The scent of moss and rotting wood filled his nostrils.

  “Rolf, I was waiting for you. Why don’t you come out where I can see you?” Lamont called back, punctuating his sentence with a shot that whistled over Rolf’s head.

  Rolf got up quickly and darted further up the incline, ducking between trees as he tried to make up as much ground as he could before Lamont could reload. He knew if he gauged it wrong, he’d be exposed and in Lamont’s line of fire.

  As he slid into his next hiding place, a sizeable chunk of granite that poked through the mossy ground, another shot pierced the air he had just been in. Panting, he got up right away and moved closer to the cloud of smoke from Lamont’s rifle that marked his position. This time he didn’t push forward as much, choosing the side of caution. After all, a man can only survive so many close calls in one Dee.

  “Be careful, Rolf, I’d not want to have to tell your mother you met with an accident.” Lamont taunted.

  “You mean like your friends? Kort and Davin are dead, and it’s your fault, Lamont. You should have left Anthea alone.”

  “Fortune may have smiled on Anthea and her pet, but don’t think that it will treat you as nicely, little brother.”

  Rolf gritted his teeth and shouted, “I’m not your brother, and even if I were, don’t think that’d stop me from killing you now.” He checked that his rifles were both loaded and ready, and stood. He fired once immediately, and the whirled to stand behind a birch that felt all too narrow as one of Lamont’s slugs tumbled by close enough that Rolf felt the air move past his face.

  While Lamont reloaded, Rolf ran a dozen paces, putting him within twenty Mayters of Lamont. He dared not push any further. He knelt behind the wide trunk of an ancient cedar. Ants crawled over its bark, ducking into small tunnels they’d made into its fragrant wood. Rolf brushed off the too-curious ants that decided to explore him while he was reloading his fired rifle.

  “Brother, it amuses me that you think you have a prayer against me. How many times have we squared off before? Even as children you could never best me. Don’t you remember the latest incident? I’d have killed you on that stage if it weren’t for that girl.”

  Rolf laughed aloud, trying to antagonize Lamont into making a mistake. “Maybe that was the beginning of the change in your luck. No matter what you do, you only have one rifle to my two, and we know you’re not a good shot. You couldn’t even kill Bedros or Anthea and look what they did to your friends.”

  “It won’t work, Rolf. You can’t beat me, and one rifle or not, I only need to aim right once!” Lamont taunted.

  Rolf sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t help but wonder when Lamont learned to master his temper. Before he’d always been quick to precipitous anger, yet now he was holding it in check. He took a quick peek around the twisted roots of the cedar, sighted in Lamont’s hiding space, and fired.

  His slug impacted on the nearest of the two boulders that Lamont hid behind, spraying splinters of granite into the gap between them. Rolf could hear Lamont cursing as he made a run for the next place to hide, only ten Mayters from Lamont. Behind yet another tree, he reloaded his rifle once more, sliding the ramrod down the barrel to clear out any embers that might ignite his next bag of gunpowder prematurely – that was a good way to lose fingers or a hand.

  “That one hurt, Rolf. Have you ever had to dig chips of rock out of your cheek and forehead?”

  “It will only hurt for another Mynettes, Lamont. I’m nearly there. I’ll end your suffering.”

  “Come and play then.” Lamont replied, eager to end this once and for all.

  Rolf dropped the next bag of gunpowder into his rifle, followed by a bit of silk wadding and the slug. When he was finished he sprung from his hiding place and ran for the two boulders. Lamont saw him coming and slid his rifle between the boulders to take a shot. At the last moment, Rolf dove to the left, cutting off the angle so Lamont could no longer get him in his sights. He rolled to his feet, still holding a rifle in each hand, each cocked and ready to fire.

  As he rounded the boulder to come up behind Lamont, he found Lamont’s rifle pointing at him, with Lamont’s bloodied face staring at him down the length of the steel barrel. Rolf had done exactly what Lamont had expected him to.

  “Goodbye, little brother.” Lamont announced with a victorious grin.

  That brief moment to get the last word in was all Rolf needed to fire both of his rifles into Lamont’s chest. Lamont was thrown backward and his own rifle went off, the slug flying harmlessly over Rolf’s shoulder. A cloud of acrid gunpowder smoke filled the air, stinging Rolf’s eyes. As Lamont lay there choking on his own blood and trying to hold his guts from falling out of the gaping wounds in his chest, Rolf stepped over to him.

  “You always did talk too much, brother. You were a man of pointless words, and not enough action. Look where that has left you.” Rolf spit at Lamont’s feet, shaking his head. “May the scavengers eat you while you live, and Nelius leave your spirit to roam. Cainel has found you lacking todee.”

  Rolf stooped to pick up his stepbrother’s rifle, and then he pilfered all the gunpowder, slugs, and other useful supplies from Lamont’s pockets and vest. “You won’t need these anymore. I hope you don’t mind.” His eyes and heart were hard as he spoke.

  Lamont gurgled and strained to grab at Rolf’s neck, but his grasp was feeble and easily swept aside. Rolf left him there gasping for his last breaths and went back to where Anthea and Bedros waited. His conscience was not heavy with guilt, for he knew he had done what was right. None of his kind would fault him, though Lamont’s father, Beljd, would never forgive him.

  Rolf found Anthea cradled in Bedros’ arms. Her wounded arm was in a sling, and she was pale. The stiletto that had pierced her arm lay beside them on the ground. Bedros had set up one of the crystal pods beside the girl as well, dispersing the murkiness of the forest if just in one small area.

  “How is she?” Rolf asked.

  Bedros grunted and bared his teeth in a very human grimace that faded into a worried frown.

  “I’ll be alright.” Anthea announced weakly, her eyes fluttering open. “I’m just not accustomed to dealing with pain like this. I don’t think I’ve ever been hurt this badly before.”

  Rolf scratched at his cheek contemplatively, unwittingly combing some of Lamont’s blood into his beard.

  “Is it over? Are they all dead?” Anthea asked.

  Rolf nodded. “Yes. It’s done. Lamont and his friends have paid for their treachery.”

  “I see.” Anthea replied, but there was a hint of sadness in her voice that surprised Rolf.

  “You mourn for them?” Rolf asked incredulously.

  “I don’t enjoy killing, Rolf. I had hoped to never do it again, and todee I hope this was the last time.”

  He did not miss that she had said kill again. He wondered who and why she’d had to kill before even as he said, “It won’t be. Life is rarely so pleasant. Nelius waits around every corner.”

  “Then the quicker I’m off this island the better. I want to be beyond lands where death is such a casual affair.”

  “It’s not casual, Anthea. We just acknowledge it as a part of life here.”

  Anthea got a far-off look then, as if she were staring beyond the present. Bedros touched her shoulder, causing her to break out of her trance-like state. He made a series of gestures too fast and incomprehensible for Rolf to understand.

  “What is it?” He demanded. “Are there more of them?”

  “No, but my path has been made clear to me again. The flowers are leading me east, to Norsjalde it seems.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “You’re coming?” Anthea asked in surprise, a question that Bedros’ expression showed that he was clearly curious about as well.

  “Your path wasn’t made clear until I rejoined you. It seems clear that you were led to me for a reason. I am part of this now, whatever it may be.” Rolf replied resolutely.

  “What of your home and your family? Can you just leave?”

  “It’s being taken care of. After all this, I can’t really go back home anyway.”

  “Then we are three now.” Anthea said, pushing herself back to her feet, bracing herself on Bedros’ sitting form while she got her bearings. She wobbled on her feet at first but then stood more firmly.

  When Bedros stood and shouldered his burdens once more, Rolf took a long look at the Ox-Man’s closed wounds. The Ox-Man saw what he looked at and glanced at Anthea. Rolf nodded, understanding that it had been her who healed him. He couldn’t help but feel a bit in awe of a girl as young as Anthea who could heal what looked to have been lethal wounds and who could shrug off a knife wound to keep walking. He didn’t know another woman like her and didn’t think he ever would.

  There is strength in her, Rolf thought to himself as the three of them walked along the road, stopping only long enough to move Kort and Davin’s bodies away from the road. He did not place daubs of mud across their eyes; for they were enemies that he felt had fought unjustly. He did take time to take their weapons and supplies. Anthea wasn’t very pleased that Rolf did this, even if his justifications that they might as well sell them rather than let the elements ruin valuable weapons were in accordance with Cainel’s wishes.

  Rolf wasn’t sure where Anthea’s path would take him to before he could return home, but he wasn’t thinking it would be a bad thing. After all, Harsbrukke wasn’t going to be a pleasant place for him to be for at least a while. The Gods have their reasons for all this, he figured, and who was he to argue with the Gods?