His Ancient Heart (26 page)

A muffled howl pierced the hull of the barge.

An angry howl that echoed all around them.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Talon

"What is that?" Curio asked. The howling was rising in pitch, volume, and numbers.

"You fool," Talon said. "You led them to the town."

Talon lifted his blade and ran towards the Cursed girl's cage. He didn't slow as he smacked the lock off and headed for the stairs. "Get out of here," he shouted back to her.

His mind was racing as fast as his body, with all that he had just seen. From the Cursed girl to the farspeak stone, to the captive Shifter. Especially the stone. How could Curio hear
him
through it, without
him
knowing the merchant was there? The stones connected one to another, guided by the user's magic. Or so he had always believed.
 

What if there were some that could capture everything? Every conversation between Overlords. Every plot and plan. Did Jeremiah have such a stone?

Talon reached the top of the steps and rushed out onto the dock, almost at the same time Wilem and Delia appeared on the other end of the boat. Wilem had uncovered the staff, and he held it ready for use.
 

"What's happening?" he asked.

"Shifters," Talon said.
 

The first screams started rising from the town.

What about the Shifters? Where had they come from? The last group had been hiding in Genesia, feeding on the reactor. Those demons had a general to lead them. This group obviously didn't, or they wouldn't be howling like that. Without the general, the lesser creatures like the orcs and goblins didn't have the intelligence to make decisions. If they had been lost somewhere, trapped somewhere, feeding on a store of ebocite or the prozoa that was sure to be living in the river, they would never have left, never have moved without the command.

Until Curio had taken one alive.

Their minds were simple. When one moved, they all moved.
 

They had followed the merchant's barge to Fulton, and the last order they had probably received had been to kill any humans they found.

"We have to stop them, or they'll kill every person in Fulton," Talon said. He expected Wilem to react with a mixture of fear and resolve. Instead, there was only resolve.

He started crossing the length of the deck. He'd only taken two steps when the first of the orcs appeared on the rail of the barge, flashing into their time for only an instant before vanishing again.
 

"Be ready, they can appear anywhere," he shouted.

An orc blinked in behind him. He felt the heat of it the moment it materialized, and he jabbed his sword back, catching it in the stomach before it could plant its claws into him. It howled and fell away. Another appeared to replace it, and Talon caught its hand and punched it in the face with the hilt of his sword. It screeched and vanished.

He turned back just in time to see one of the orcs appear in front of Wilem.

"Litsus," Wilem said. A blot of light launched from the end of his staff, lashing out at the creature and burning it to char.
 

Talon caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned to see Curio finally coming up out of the hold. He was sweaty and pale, his eyes wild with fear.
 

"Delia," he shouted, looking for his daughter. He saw her with Wilem and started running their way.

An orc appeared right behind him, reaching around and grabbing him by the waist.

"What?" he managed to say, before the Shifter twisted his neck and dropped his lifeless body to the deck.

More screams started sounding from the town itself, one of them right at the base of the barge. Abeleth came running up a moment later, an orc right behind him. It pounced at the boy, and then fell back in a flash of light and explosion of magic.
 

The sailor stopped at Talon's side.
 

"Where's Curio?" he asked.

"Dead."

"What do we do?"

"Fight."
 

Talon found his knife and handed it to him. He took a slow, purposeful breath. All of the other thoughts that had whirled through his mind slowed to a stop, and then coalesced into a cold, dense point of focus. His eyes began to blur, and everything around him seemed to slow as well.

I'm more than the First of Nine. I'm the champion of Ares' Nor.

Something in his mind unlocked.

Thrummm...

With a thought, Talon fell from their time and into the Shifter's. He could see the invisible orcs here, a dozen coming up the gangway or climbing over the sides. He could see more beyond the dock, their bodies dark blurs moving through the town, appearing and disappearing as they found victims to attack.
 

Some of the orcs noticed he was in their timeline. Six of them changed direction, coming at him directly, their bodies low and their claws out. They pounced at Talon as a whole, trying to bring him down.

He felt the power of the ebocite heart. He felt his body pulsing, tingling. He decapitated the first orc to reach him, kicked another hard in the face, spun and dropped his blade to catch and throw a third. He picked it up again, disemboweling another in one smooth motion. The last managed to land on him, hitting him and knocking him backwards.

Thrummm
....

He fell out of the timeline, bringing the orc with him. He wrestled on the ground with it, its jaws only inches from his face, hot spittle spraying his cheeks.
 

It howled in pain and fell limp in his arms. He rolled it off him and looked up. Abeleth leaned over him, the knife bloody in his hands.

"I got one," he said with a smile.
 

His eyes went wide, and a claw appeared through his back. A heartbeat later a bolt of lightning lashed into the creature, and it screamed and smoked while it fell to the ground, bringing Abeleth's body with it.

Talon got back to his feet and lifted his sword. Delia was standing with Wilem, the Mediator holding the staff up high, launching bolts of magic at any of the creatures he saw. Bodies of dead orcs littered the deck.

"Come on," Talon said. He picked his knife from Abeleth's hand and ran for the gangway. "We have to save as many as we can."

An orc appeared next to Wilem, its arm already raised to strike. Wilem saw it too late, and he cried out as he tried to back away. The claws slashed towards him, aiming to tear him apart.
 

Delia stepped in front of him, grabbing the creature's forearm, twisting it and bringing it down on her knee. Talon heard the crack of its arm breaking, and then watched the girl slip under it, pivot, and flip it over onto its back. Wilem used the opportunity to slam the staff into it and use his magic, killing it in an instant.

"Wilem," Talon said, getting his attention. The Mediator grabbed Delia's arm and pulled her towards Talon. "This way."
 

He led them down from the barge and onto the dock. Dal's body was resting on the planks, bleeding out into the water below. Gerland's wagon was still there, the horses unharmed. He could only hope the brewer was safe. They ran along the dock to the shore, reaching it uncontested.

"Help me," a voice cut through the night.
 

Hugh was running towards them. His shoulder was bloody, his arm limp at his side. An orc appeared next to him, and he stumbled and fell away from it, rolling to his feet and putting his arms up to protect himself.

Thrummm...

Talon felt the power of the ebocite heart pulling him into the time distortion caused by the Shifters. He could see the orcs all around him, ignoring him in their efforts to catch and kill the townspeople. He charged at the one following Hugh.

Thrummm...

He appeared right next to Hugh, freezing the shocked orc in place, and using the surprise to remove its head. He held out his arm and helped Hugh back to his feet. "Where is your father?" he asked.

Hugh stared at him, as shocked at what he had seen as the orc had been. "Dead, I think," he said. "We were on the dock, getting another pair of barrels when they attacked. We both ran. I heard him cry out, and then a splash. I think they pulled him into the water."

"Your arm?"
 

His shirt was soaked in blood.

"I can't feel it."

He had lost a lot of blood. Was still losing a lot of blood. There was no time to bandage him. He'd seen enough war to know the outcome.
 

"Get under the wagon, and stay there. Lay flat, don't move, and they won't see you. I'll be back to tend your arm once the battle is over."

"Battle?" Hugh said. His face was growing paler by the second. "What are they?"

"Demons," Talon said. It was as much as the boy needed to know. "Go."

Hugh clutched his arm and staggered past, headed for the wagon. The screams were beginning to lessen, one voice fallen from the masses at a time.

"Talon, we should go," Wilem said. "Get out of here. This isn't our doing."

Talon turned on him, his eyes the only attack he needed. "This is
my
doing," he cursed. "
His
doing. A thousand years in the making. I'm not leaving this town until every one of them is dead."

Wilem nodded silently, dropping the argument. Delia was still at his side, her eyes darting back and forth in search of the creatures. If she knew her father was dead, she wasn't showing it.

Talon ran from the edge of the docks, making a straight line for the Willow. Dozens of sailors and women had been in the building, making it an obvious place for the bulk of the Shifters to attack. Even now, he could hear cries of help from that direction, and he could see that both the inn and the brothel were on fire.
 

Bodies lay on the ground around him, women and men in various states of dress. All were bloody and broken, run through by sharp claws or torn by sharp teeth. A few of the people were still alive, sobbing softly, making weak cries for help. An orc appeared over one of them to finish the job. Talon raised his sword, waiting in mercy for it to make its kill before slicing it open and continuing his advance.

Orcs blinked into view around him, first alone, and then in growing numbers, trying to bring him down. He stood in front of the buildings, framed by the fires spilling from both, grabbing and cutting, ducking and stabbing. Bolts of lightning launched from Wilem's staff, catching the unsuspecting creatures and knocking them to the ground.

There are so many.

Without him and Wilem, the town would have been laid to waste in minutes. I was a scene that Talon knew had played itself out over and over again all of those years ago, when the Shifters had first appeared and before they had learned to fight them.
 

Even with their intervention, the battle went badly.
 

Talon led Wilem and Delia through the town, searching for survivors and cutting down any of the creatures that tried to stop them. Delia proved to be invaluable to Wilem, her impressive and unique hand combat skills able to neutralize any of the Shifters that tried to reach him, keeping them down long enough for the Mediator to finish the work.
 

They rounded the corner of a makeshift smithy, a tall lean-to with a forge hastily constructed near the back. The smith was slumped over his anvil, his back torn open. An orc appeared in Talon's face. Talon jerked his head forward, slamming it against the creature's, knocking it back. Then he brought the sword up and through the bottom of its neck, skewering it. He growled as he lifted the Shifter from the ground and tossed it aside.
 

As he did, he noticed a horse in the distance, near the back of the town. A soldier sat on it, looking back at him. It was the guard, Tiles. His hair was a mess, and he looked terrified. He whirled the horse, turning to ride for the gates.

Talon watched him for a few seconds, making his decision. If he escaped, word would reach
him
of what happened here. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He wasn't sure. How would Jeremiah react to knowing there were even more of the Shifters loose in the Empire? He wasn't sure of that either. It helped him make his choice.

Let
him
learn what has happened here. Let us see if
he
has any soul left at all.

He watched Tiles flee the town, and then continued the hunt.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Talon

It took them three hours to hunt down the final Shifter.
 

Three hours of wandering the remains of Fulton, navigating around flames and corpses, and killing not only the orcs, but also whoever they found whose wounds were too grievous to heal.
 

Which amounted to the entire town.

It was grisly, nasty work. It was dirty, sweaty and bloody, and by the end of it, Talon felt physically strong, and emotionally dead. His shoulders slumped at his sides, his bald head dripped sweat into his eyes, and he tried to remember if there had ever been a day as singularly violent as this one had been.

I don't think so. Not even Ares'Nor was like this. Not once the General was dead.

"That's the last of them?" Wilem asked, glancing down at the dead orc. He leaned into the staff so hard that it was obvious the ircidium pole was the only thing keeping him up. His hair was sweaty and matted to his face, and his sleeve was bloody from an orc that had gotten its claws into him before Delia kicked it away. If it hadn't been for the girl, he would have been dead ten times over.

Thrummm
....

Talon tried to put himself into the alternate time. He couldn't.

"Yes," he said. He dropped the sword onto the orc's body and took a heaving breath. Then he looked over at Delia. She was as sweaty and dirty as he was. "Are you well?"

She nodded. "Thanks to you, General." Her face dipped, a wave of sadness washing over it. "My father is dead." She said it as fact.

"I'm sorry," Talon said. He wasn't sure if he meant it. If it hadn't been for the merchant, the Shifters would never have been there in the first place.