Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) (13 page)

On the Hemmed Land’s northern border, Ilfedo camped his makeshift army of five hundred men in the shade of the trees. He spread them thin so as to cover as much territory as possible. If the sorcerer and his minions returned through the desert tonight, the warriors would meet them.

As evening fell he stood between a pair of sturdy trees, stabbing his gaze northward into the stone-strewn desert. Some kind of creature had been reported to come from that desert. In three separate incidents, it had slain three men and two children dwelling along this stretch of the Hemmed Land’s border. All attacks had reportedly occurred in the dead of night.

The wind howled over the desert and whistled into the forest. Ilfedo fingered the hilt of the sword of the dragon. People in his territory had taken to calling it the Sword of Ilfedo. But for him it remained the Sword of the Dragon.

He wondered how well his baby had fallen asleep tonight. So delicate, so precious; someday this land would fall to her as an inheritance. She was already commonly called Princess. He did not doubt that, with her mother’s dragon blood flowing through her veins, his daughter could become a great ruler. But what of her character? Power should not be lightly handed to a youth. The Warrioresses would not spoil her. He felt certain of that. They would keep her safe, too.

“Dantress, why oh why? If you were here now our child would grow in your footsteps. Play with your skirt, learn from your voice, and smile at your love. Oh, I want that. I want that more than anything.”

Someone’s sword clinked against a nearby tree, and Ilfedo retreated into a deeper shadow. No one must see him like this. He would show himself strong at all times for his departed wife. She had sacrificed herself so their child could grow. How could he let his people perceive his still-grieving heart and expect them to focus on a bright future?

A breeze bent the short stalks of grass on the forest floor. He could see for a couple of miles through the trees as long as he kept his gaze near the desert where the trees thinned. First one of his shadowed warriors stepped toward the dry, stone-strewn landscape then another beyond him and five a dozen yards farther. Soon a substantial force marched in a line from the forest. Even in the darkness Ilfedo could see that they all kept their faces toward the desert and their hands on the hilts of their swords.

None of this would be happening if his life had followed a different course. If Dantress were still alive … things would be different. He sighed and leaned his shoulder against a nearby oak tree. The hard bark released some of the tension in his muscles. Every day her death returned to his heart as potent as that fateful morning.

“Release me from this world, dear God,” he whispered through the shadows. “I want my heavenly rest in her bosom.”

“Your time is not yet, my love.” Dantress’s voice wafted so gently into his mind that he almost believed she was really there, standing beside him in the tree’s deepening shadows. “You and you alone must protect our offspring. She is the hope of your people. Stay for the fruit of my womb to blossom.” The voice faded.

“If only you were here, Dantress. If only.” Ilfedo turned toward the heart of the forest and walked into the darkness. A fleeting shadow of a woman slipped deeper into the woods and vanished. He froze, wondering for a moment if somehow Dantress had really spoken to him. The darkened floor of the forest offered him no reply. A breeze rustled the leaves; an owl hooted above him. Ilfedo shook his head and skirted behind the treeline, checking on the warriors as they waited in the shadows.

A long while later, Ilfedo stood again looking out over the desert. A cloudless sky allowed the starlight to illuminate the rock-strewn sand. Nothing had come from the desert so far as he could tell … and nothing indicated anything would come. The sands remained settled on the cool desert floor. The rocks seemed frozen in its midst.

A swordsman crept toward him, twisting to glance at the desert. Another warrior knelt behind a bush and rested his longbow on the ground, peering through the trees at the barren landscape.

Slowly he walked to the edge of the forest. He stood gazing across the desert for a few minutes more, then he strode along the tree line.

Four of his armor-clad men emerged from the trees ahead of him and fell in alongside him. “My Lord, we have seen nothing.”

“Remain at your posts until I give you leave.” Ilfedo waved them back and issued the same command, as every fifty feet he came upon another group of men. He glanced over his shoulder as the soldiers obediently shrank back into the forest. They would await his command, as they always did.

Facing west, he made his way up a steep incline to a thick group of trees. Behind them the ground descended gradually into a large valley where a hundred canvas tents dotted the grass. Not a single tree grew in the valley, but a line of oaks ringed its rim, rising like mighty sentries.

From the midst of the camp a group of lightly-armed men rose from around their campfire and wove their way between the tents. As they approached, Ilfedo smiled at their commander. “Ombre.”

“How’s the first watch coming?” Ombre slapped him on the shoulder. “If you need a better set of eyes on the ground, I’ll be more than happy to take your place!”

Ilfedo shook his head. “I want you to rouse Honer and Ganning.” He stood at the valley’s crest and pointed briefly out over the desert. “If something is out there, I want it found.”

“We could continue waiting, Ilfedo. You haven’t given it all that much time.”

“We could, you’re right. But I want whatever is out there, if it
is
out there, found. Rouse however many men you need and start search parties. Just make sure Honer and Ganning are in on it.”

“Too bad you didn’t bring Seivar.” Ombre cleared his throat and grinned. “I told you that bird would be handy out here.”

Too bad, indeed, Ilfedo acknowledged to himself. He left the valley, keeping inside the tree line as he made his way back to his post. Once again the men hiding in the shadows acknowledged him as he passed, and he beckoned them to remain in their positions.

He had laid the trap for whatever the inhabitants of this part of his country had encountered. Now, if it came at all, the creature would have to come to him. If not, perhaps the search party would find something.

The next morning, Honer and Ganning reported to Ilfedo that they had braved the desert cold with a hundred men. “There’s nothing out there save for lizards and rodents’ tracks,” Ganning said.

The next evening Ilfedo commanded the watch to continue while he went in search of one of the recent victim’s cabins. He found it tucked in the edge of a small meadow. The grass there was peculiar, for its blue stalks glowed. He paused at the meadow’s edge to marvel. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. He ran his fingers along one of the stalks and found it soft … like rabbit fur.

At the far side of the clearing, a single lantern shone from one of five small windows. The place sported a second floor, but the lantern provided the only evidence of habitation.

The grass shimmered around him. It stood up to his waist, and when he looked down, deeper hues were rippling around him. He watched the ripples expand to the edge of the meadow and then headed for the cabin. The grass continued to shimmer in the starlight.

Despite the dampening air, he felt incredibly warm.

The cabin door eased open a crack, and a woman’s sharp voice rang out. “Who’s there? Tell me now or else I shoot!” A round woman of no mean size slammed the door open the rest of the way. She leveled a crossbow at him.

Ilfedo raised his arms. “There is no need for that, madam! It is your Lord Warrior.”

The crossbow clicked as the woman locked her arrow in position. “If you really are who you claim to be, my lord. I need you to stand where you are so you can prove your identity to me.”

“Very well, madam.” Ilfedo stood still and crossed his arms. “How shall we proceed?”

“I … I … I hadn’t thought about that, my lord.” The woman shrugged her shoulders. Two children emerged from behind her, clinging with tiny fists to her skirt. She tightened her tone. “How do I know you are the Lord Warrior? You could be that
thing
come back to take another of my babies. I will not allow it! You will pay for that, you blood-thirsty coward. Murderer!”

Whether she had intended to or not, the woman released her projectile. Ilfedo heard the arrow whoosh through the air. It struck his right shoulder, spinning him around. He gritted his teeth as he fell.

“Curse you, woman,” he muttered. “I have a child, too!”

She must have heard him, for as he looked at the shaft of the arrow sticking through his shoulder, she came running. Kneeling down she clasped her hands over her mouth. “I am so sorry! When you said that you, too, have a child, I knew it must be you. Oh, what have I done?”

A screech rent the air, like a woman’s cry and an eagle’s scream, blended in one. Ilfedo struggle to his feet as the woman barreled through the glowing grass back to her cabin. She screamed, “No!” and tackled a shadowy figure darting toward her door. The children froze as their mother fought the would-be kidnapper.

The creature!

Ilfedo’s useless right arm hung at his side. When it came to sword play, his left hand was nearly as useless. He left the Sword of the Dragon in its sheath, ignored the pain stabbing across his chest, and ran to the cabin. The glowing grass illuminated the woman as she tangled with a humanoid with feathered wings.

He swung his boot into the side of its head with all his might. The creature screamed. Two more like it leapt from the roof. The impact twisted the arrow inside Ilfedo’s shoulder. But hands raised, he faced the creatures, also fighting without weapons. He swung his fist at one creature, then another. Every blow he delivered seemed to bounce off a leather muscle in their bodies.

In a blur of movement, the thickest creature punched at him. He ducked, and his foot struck a rock. With his make-shift weapon, he battered the creatures mercilessly on each of their gaunt manly faces. They fled into the trees. The remaining creature turned from the frenzied mother. Dropping to its hands, it raised its legs and kicked the stone out of his hand. Then it stood and screeched birdlike at the trees.

Four other creatures glided from the branches and landed in the meadow behind Ilfedo. He regarded them wearily. He had lost a lot of blood in his wounded shoulder, and his arm had lost its strength again.

The big woman stumbled into her cabin and closed the door. Now the only light that remained for him to see by emanated from the blue grass.

His vision wavered in and out of darkness and then he collapsed. Again the grass seemed to warm him. The creatures cackled, and one of them walked up to the cabin and leapt through a window. Glass rained around Ilfedo. The woman and the children screamed.

“I won’t let this happen!” Ilfedo’s left hand found the hilt of his sword, and he struggled to draw his weapon. One of the creatures—men, it would seem—held him back and yanked the sword from his grasp.

It screeched and smiled at its fellows. They cackled and pinned Ilfedo to the ground.

Raising the sword, the creature stabbed it at Ilfedo’s heart. Living fire sprouted from the blade. The hilt ripped itself out of the creature’s hand, twisting as it did so to cut off a couple of fingers. The blade hovered in the air and angled at the creature, blazing with glorious light. Ilfedo felt a surge of victory.

The creature spread its wings and raced into the trees. Just as it seemed to have escaped, the Sword of the Dragon speared through the air and pierced its back. Its light illuminated the scene in the midst of the dark trees. The living fire engulfed the creature from head to toe, burning the body to ashes that rained on the dry leaves and formed a heap.

The sword floated over the remains and stabbed itself into the midst of the ashes. A voice spoke from its blade. “As spoken by his holy prophet, I am living fire. From the hand of God I came and if ever used for evil I will, of my own accord, turn upon the wicked one.”

The remaining winged men stumbled over each other as they fled into the forest.

Ilfedo could hear the woman inside the cabin fighting for her life with the one who had crashed through the window. But he could not find the strength to move. “I am coming home to you, my love!” he cried to the starry sky.

“Not so soon, my friend!” Ombre crashed out of the woods and stood over him. A contingent of soldiers swept into the cabin.

The winged man stumbled out of the window. A couple of his fellows swooped in and carried him into the darkness.

Ilfedo lost consciousness.