By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (6 page)

Gathering his strength, he staggered to the end of the alley, where the sun shone brightly on the village street. Across from where he stood, he watched a blacksmith straightening the tines of a pitchfork. The smith was a massive man, apparently of the same race as the two armored men. His beard reached the small of his back, for it had been split, drawn around his neck, and tied behind him. His wares were exhibited beside him, many of which Lian recognized as farming tools. Some of them, though, he couldn’t identify. Near the forge was a huge double-bitted axe, set within easy reach of the smith.

Adjacent to the smithy was an apothecary—at least that was Lian’s conjecture, since the sign displayed pictures of herbs as well as a mortar and pestle underneath unfamiliar words. The herbalist shop was apparently closed, as the sign hanging on the door contained more words along with the symbol of a closed eye. The characters were similar to those of the Southron tongue, but Lian could make no sense of the words. In Dunshor, most shopkeepers expressed both the written word and a pictographic ideogram to convey meaning to the literate as well as the more numerous illiterate. The same tradition, Lian presumed, held true here.

Wherever here is
, he thought.

Beyond the apothecary was a stable, but the beasts tethered there were definitely
not
horses. They instead resembled some kind of deer-like creature. If they were kin to deer, they were very large, for each stood at least fifteen hands. One male stood a majestic nineteen hands, with a rack of antlers that extended a full four feet above his head. Both the male and the female creatures had antlers; however, those belonging to the male were larger and branched into many individual points. The female antlers were spikes, with the barest hint of branching at the end. The animals seemed to have a gentle temperament. Lian wondered if they were as simple-minded as deer. If so, they would be a poor choice for war mounts.

Lian turned his attention to his own side of the street. Here, he noted four buildings. One appeared to be a garrison, for it was constructed of stout stone and bore a crenelated roof. Furthermore, it was there that the two armed men were headed. Next to the small keep was a store, which was just closing. Another dark-skinned, red-haired man was rolling barrels and other goods indoors from a display on the wooden slats of the sidewalk. He grunted a greeting to the two warriors, which they returned equally gutterally.

The third building, which Lian was still using for support, appeared to be an inn. He could hear a few voices within, but it was mostly quiet. Across the alley from him, the last building that he could see on this street was a tavern. From there came the aromas of ales and brandies, as well as a spicy scent of sausage and roasting potatoes. Lian suddenly felt weak with hunger, so he cautiously made his way toward the tavern.

As he stepped from the alley, he could see other buildings that seemed to be dwellings. Their roofs were constructed from rough thatch, and their walls from clay bricks. They had been buried into the ground somewhat, so only half their height was visible. Each entryway was a ramp dug into the soil.
Must not rain here much
, thought Lian, envisioning the flood season of his homeland. He looked down the main road, beyond the edge of town, and saw heat shimmers and desert.

He realized that it must be very hot in this place, yet he was freezing. Shivering uncontrollably, he climbed onto the boards of the sidewalk, his boots sounding clear footfalls. He had earlier noted that the footwear of the guardsmen, if that was what they were, more closely resembled sandals than boots, and that neither the smith nor the storekeeper had been wearing any shoes at all.

The tavern had a door which was propped open, and inside must have been most of the village population. There were about a dozen men and as many women, sitting at tables around the room. There didn’t appear to be an actual bar at all. All of the tavern patrons were of the dark-skinned stock he’d seen outside, but many of these had black hair, and a few were blonde. The men wore lengthy mustaches, and most of them sported beards as well. The women had long hair which generally fell to their midriff, though one had hers cropped short. That woman was armed with a quartet of axes.

Affixed to the roof of the tavern were fans, which turned freely, though by what mechanism, he couldn’t determine. He decided that the rotation mechanism must lie inside of the fan shafts, hidden above the ceiling. The breeze they stirred felt icy to him, and he nearly swooned from the coldness that penetrated to his bones.

Wraith must have hurt me worse than I thought
, he mused, leaning heavily against the doorframe. The soul-draining effect of a wraith’s touch manifested as feeling of intense chill, though this was actually a symptom of something far worse.

No one in the tavern noted his entry. Those patrons that were seated with their backs against the far walls looked up at the door and at the tavern’s two windows almost constantly, but none seemed to notice him.

He stumbled to an empty table and nearly fell into the chair. The relief of taking the weight off his legs was tremendous. The waitress ignored his presence. He took advantage of this, though it annoyed him at first, to get a good look around the room.

To a man, the denizens here were armed, though their weapons varied. Long daggers were prevalent, but there were a few swords and axes in evidence. Generally accompanying the latter group were long, powerful-looking bows, unstrung but leaning against tables, close to hand. The majority of the swords were long, thin, curved blades, though one man had a massive broadsword strapped across his back. The axes were of the small, one-handed variety, which seemed to be balanced for throwing. As a rule, the ax-wielders carried between four and six of the weapons, like the warrior woman he had noticed. Even the barmaid was armed, wearing a pair of short daggers.

None of the patrons wore armor, and most of them were sweating heavily despite the fans. They were drinking from glasses, rather than mugs, and there was a fair amount of broken glass littering the floor. Everyone here was wearing thick-soled sandals, but Lian was glad for his boots.

               
Where are the children?
Lian wondered. He hadn’t seen any outside, and all of the patrons appeared to be at least twenty years old.

Conversations were voiced in a thick, heavily glottal tongue. Lian couldn’t place it at all, though he spoke seven languages. The use of magic to learn the dialects of the surrounding lands, as well as
Aesidhe
, the elven tongue, was a privilege he’d possessed as the son of a king.

Tired of waiting, he reached out to touch the sleeve of the barmaid. She turned to him, not quite meeting his gaze. Instead, she looked at a point somewhere behind him, yet she didn’t pull away.
Weird
, he thought, feeling chilled anew, and not because of his injury.

He asked for food and drink in Dunshari, but got no response. He tried again in
Aesidhe
, which was commonly understood, at least in part, in most locales. Still, she didn’t seem to grasp his meaning.

Sighing, he removed a silver coin from his belt pouch, and placed it in her hand. She looked down at it, muttered something in her own tongue, and went through the doors that he assumed led to the kitchens. She returned shortly carrying a tray loaded with sausages, potatoes broiled in some sort of breading, and a tall ceramic pitcher filled with dark ale. She grabbed a glass from a wall rack as she approached, setting the tray on the table before him. Three large copper coins, about twice the weight he’d expected in return, were also sitting on the tray. He handed her one of them, and was rewarded with a slight smile, which faded as quickly as it had begun. She was hailed by another patron, and immediately she turned and smiled, swaying her hips suggestively in response to the man’s comment.

The village folk continued to ignore him, betraying no reaction to the presence of a stranger in their midst.

He shrugged, for there wasn’t anything to be done about it at the moment, and dug into the sausages and potatoes. The “breading” turned out to be primarily garlic, which Lian liked in principle. In these quantities, however, he found himself scraping most of it off. The sausages, too, were extremely spicy, and he was glad for the ale, which was thick, dark, and strong. The meal helped to alleviate his frozen, numbed feeling a little, though he still couldn’t feel his left shoulder at all.

***

Gem gave up on her efforts to rouse Lian. She could tell that he was alive, for his chest rose and fell, but his breathing was shallow and uneven. His skin had taken on the pallor of the dead, which she knew was normal for the victim of a wraith attack. His auburn hair appeared blood red against this pale coloration, and she hoped that he would survive.

The wraith had finished savoring its morsel, she could tell, so she hummed the note that allowed her to fly. The emerald in her pommel glowed green with the magic. She progressed from a single note into a chord, and the blue flames that she had summoned earlier returned.

“You’ll not have the rest of him, specter,” she exclaimed. Human mages were limited to a single voice; thus, they generally couldn’t talk while weaving magics. She didn’t suffer that limitation.

She heard the response in her mind, though it made no sound.
You will not stop me, spirit of the sword. I am quick, and I hunger.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she replied and whirled her point in a circle about the prince. The blue flames she emitted sprang from the ground to the ceiling. Gem was thankful that the wraith had struck them in a hallway, for it would have been quite difficult to shield Lian in an open area, where the ceiling was far overhead.

The wraith hissed its displeasure. True, it could force its way through the flames, which weren’t as concentrated as they had been upon the blade itself. But in so doing, it would have to move slowly, and it was certain that the weapon would be capable of striking before it could cross the barrier.

In these circumstances, it would normally have moved through the floor or ceiling to get to its victim, but the stone of Firavon’s Tower was a barrier to its passage.

The spirit whirled around the flaming barrier several times, seeking a weak point, but found none. Wherever it turned, the sword point followed flawlessly, moving more quickly than the wraith had believed possible.

The wraith was by nature a greedy creature, and it did not want to lose its prize to another guardian, or worse, to the demonkind that had escaped their binding over the years. Therefore, it didn’t have unlimited time to wait for the sword spirit to weaken.

It hesitated for a moment, contemplating, then swooped around the corner. Gem wondered what it was planning, while she took the opportunity once again to attempt to rouse Lian.

The wraith returned, herding before it some of the skeletal and zombified pieces of once-men. It could drink the soul force of such things, although it would gain no sustenance. The animated dead, however, could sense the danger, and the
animi
possessed some sort of self-preservation instinct. The result of this was that the wraith could drive the animate pieces and direct them.

Shit
, Gem exclaimed to herself, not bothering to verbalize it. She had known, of course, the easiest way to defeat her defense, yet had hoped that the wraith wasn’t cunning enough to derive it. She could maintain her flame shield for quite some time, but not while having to constantly replenish the energy after some creature burned up in it. She was not skilled enough at sorcery to simply destroy the wraith with magic.

She decided to risk a small power drain on a bluff. The chord she used was subdued, as were the flames that consumed the animate body parts. She could sense the last bit of
animae
fade away as the corpse parts burned to ash.

The wraith instinctively withdrew from the fire, but slowed its retreat when it realized that the blaze was mundane in nature, and therefore unable to harm it. It deduced, correctly, that if the sword were able to strike it directly, it would have, and so it departed to round up more zombies to sacrifice.

It’s only a matter of time
, Gem thought.
Gods, wake up my boy, and soon
.

***

Lian was staring at his empty pitcher, and wondering how he’d managed to drink that much ale at one sitting, when one of the other chairs at his table was pulled back.

He startled, and his right hand instinctively moved to his shortsword. He tried to reach his crossbow with his left hand, but it didn’t obey him and the bow dangled out of reach. He was on his feet with sword at the ready before he fully registered the woman who was sitting before him. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and he desperately clung to consciousness.

“Is that the way you greet all your women?” she asked in a deep, throaty voice. Her tone conveyed no fear or threat, instead amusement. She was tall, probably over six feet standing, with a dark complexion and black hair and eyes. She was not of the same race as the villagers, who ignored her, much as they ignored Lian.

She was attired in black leather, but with no semblance to the two guardsmen he’d seen earlier. On her, the supple leather clung like a second skin, revealing rather than concealing her magnificent figure. She was powerful, with clear muscular definition on her arms and legs. She wore gloves of black sharkskin, and her body was adorned with at least twenty knives of assorted varieties, and that included only the weaponry that Lian could
see
. She also wore a scarab of an unidentifiable grey metal over her left breast. For an instant, Lian imagined that the scarab, which was the figure of a beetle, moved on its own.

“Excuse me, if I’m a little jumpy,” Lian replied, eyeing her warily. His carelessness had cost him dearly with the wraith, and he wasn’t about to repeat his mistake. The barmaid, ignoring his drawn weapon, detoured around him as she calmly carried a tray toward another table.