Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology (5 page)

Though Hsaan and Shreth fought valiantly, they were being pushed nearer and nearer to the fire that still crackled in the center of the clearing. They got so near to the leaping flames that both brothers had to tuck their tails up along their spines to keep them from catching fire. Injured Grobins retreated to the rear of their wave to recover while fresh fighters swelled to the front. Two or three Grobins had fallen during the battle, adding their numbers to the one that Torus had killed. It wasn't enough. There were still too many of them.

Royce waded into the fray, swinging his sword about waist high and putting as much strength as he could muster behind the blow. The sharp steel bit into the necks of three Grobins clustered close together and severed their heads from their bodies. The heads rolled backward through the attackers, and other Grobins leapt away from them as if the heads were cursed with the failure that had ended their lives. Bodies bereft of heads continued forward a few paces before they twitched and fell over.

Torus had joined the battle from the other side, and he and Royce were effectively closing pincers on the attackers, driving them together and into the waiting claws of the Shyraan, who were
disemboweling and dismembering Grobins as fast as they could. A particularly vicious Grobin sank his teeth into the meaty part of Shreth's thigh, sending them both sprawling into the fire. They both howled in pain and rage. Shreth beat at the flames that spread to his fur and then hefted the offending Grobin over his head. With a savage twist, the hunter shattered the little creature's spine and tossed it aside. He rejoined Hsaan, but Royce knew he was in dire shape. A large chunk of flesh was missing from his thigh and his blood matted the fur down the length of the leg.

A sinister cackle split the sounds of battle and Royce's head whipped around to see four new Grobins, unbloodied by battle, gnawing on the helpless Faarsh, who was mewling in agony and fear. The little bastards had been hiding, biding their time. Royce wouldn't reach them in time to save the Shyraan, but Torus might.

"Torus!" he shouted, flinging one hand toward Faarsh while he drove his blade into the belly of a Grobin trying to bite his fingers off.

"On it!" Torus cried. He jumped back with agility that seemed impossible for his size. Royce yanked his sword free, kicking the dead Grobin off the end of it with a bare foot. He was disgusted by the cool clamminess of the Grobin's hide.

His disgust was short lived, his attention instead turning on Torus, who had almost reached the injured Faarsh. She was covered in blood, ravaged by the sharp teeth and claws of her attackers. The Lieutenant swung the mace, connecting the spiked orb with one of the Grobin's heads. The skull shattered, driving in the side of the head and leaving it looking like a child's deflated ball. The eye on the crushed side of the skull popped free from its socket, dangling from a mass of bloody tissue. Torus kicked the body aside and swung at the next attacker.

Three more times Torus swung, and three times a Grobin life was snuffed out. A broken back, a caved-in chest, and another smashed skull. These were the legacy of Torus's frenzied struggle to save Faarsh's life. Neither did the great warrior come out of the battle unscathed. The last of the Grobin attacking Faarsh had lunged at him, raking sharp claws down Torus's left side, leaving him with four deep lacerations that added his blood to that which had already been spilled.

Though Torus fought well, his effort was in vain. When the Lieutenant moved away from the bloody body of the Shyraan, it was easy to see that she hadn't survived. Her sightless eyes were dull, staring up into the sky beyond the tops of the trees. Royce sighed, then turned his thoughts back to the battle still raging around him. A dozen or more Grobins were dead or dying. The others were flinging themselves at whatever target they could reach with fanatical zeal. They'd lost the coherency of their force and were now attacking on the strength of their instinct alone. Once frenzied, a Grobin wouldn't stop attacking until it had died, or its prey had.

Royce sensed, rather than heard, the pair of Grobins jumping at his unprotected neck. Tapping on the
Quintessential Sphere, he summoned a burst of speed that allowed him to get his blade between his body and the bodies of his attackers. He was unable to check their momentum, however, and they toppled to the ground. Teeth gnashed inches from his eyes, the fetid, rank breath of the sea gnome wafting up his nose. Royce thrashed, trying to get free of the small, dense bodies. His legs felt as if they were on fire. He tried to roll away, but had to throw himself back when sharp claws sliced down, just a few inches from his face.

One of the Grobins was ripped away. Shreth and Hsaan hauled the squirming gnome away from Royce's face, engaging in a ferocious tug of war that ended with the Grobin being ripped in two. No longer taken by surprise, Royce was able to kick the remaining Grobin aside. Throwing his shoulder to the side, he rolled over, using his momentum to slice deep across the gnome's back, cutting through its spine. Whump, whump, whump. Torus's mace dispatched Grobins with deadly efficiency. Hsaan and Shreth ran down the last of the sea gnomes, preventing them from escaping into the brush from which they'd come.

Now that the battle was over, the jungle was still and silent. The noises of the insects and animals had stopped. No breath of wind stirred the trees at the edge of the clearing. Even the fire had died to embers, only a faint orange glow holding back the dark of night. Royce shuddered. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off and his connection to the Quintessential Sphere had waned, the fatigue and pain threatened to drag him down a deep, dark hole. He wasn't afraid of the fall. He was afraid of there never being a bottom. He drew his legs up to his chest, ignoring the lancing pain that stabbed up into his hips. Every muscle in his body begged for rest, but there was still more to be done. 

By the time he'd gotten upright again, Torus had stripped some wide, long leaves off the nearest tree. The lozenge shaped leaves were a foot wide at the middle and three times that long. They'd work admirably for what they needed to do. Royce cast a glance around the clearing. Shreth and Hsaan hadn't yet returned and there was no way of telling when they would. Thick foliage blocked out most of the sky, but to the east, the blue-black of night was giving way to dawn. They'd soon have enough light to work by.

As Torus laid the leaves out on the ground, Royce ripped the last tattered remnants of his shirt off and tore it into smaller pieces. He crouched near Faarsh's body, ignoring his aches and pains. This was more important, and it deserved his full attention. With the torn pieces of cloth, he cleaned the worst of the blood from her ravaged body. The Grobins had savaged her, leaving her flesh torn from the bone in some places. With gentle hands, Royce did the best he could to honor her memory, then nodded to Torus, who was standing nearby, waiting in the soft light of the growing day.

They lifted her in silence, moving her onto the bed of leaves that Torus had constructed. They laid her down with the tenderness of a mother caring for a sick child. Royce crouched by her feet, weaving the ends of the leaves together and tying them off with the strong center veins that Torus had separated. Royce didn't know what the burial customs of the Shyraan might be, but Faarsh deserved better
than to be left out in the open, where the insects and vermin could get to her. Even with tired hands, they made efficient use of time and closed the shroud they'd created, up to the base of her shoulders. They left her face exposed. Shreth would want to say goodbye.

Grim work done, they settled their backs against the base of a thick tree. It felt good to rest. Torus leaned his head back against the rough bark and closed his eyes. After a few moments, Royce heard his breath deepen and figured that the Lieutenant had fallen asleep. Royce picked a blade of grass from the edge of the clearing, splitting it along the grain with dirty fingernails and staring into the jungle.

"This is how it's going to be, Captain?"

Torus's rich voice startled him and Royce jumped, dropping the grass he'd been worrying.

"How what's going to be?"

"Your legs were broken, Captain. You shouldn't have been standing up, much less fighting. Yet there you were, blade in hand, doing what you do. Do you think I'm an idiot? I don't know whether to be angry, or insulted."

"I don't think you're an idiot, Torus. I never have." Royce paused. He plucked another piece of grass and focused on it as if it were a talisman that could ward off the conversation they were having. "I knew this day would come. I just hoped that we'd have some time before it did."

"So you lied to me."

"Yes, through omission." Royce wouldn't insult Torus further by trying to give him an explanation. Torus wasn't the type of man who would care about whys and wherefores. Just that it had happened. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"So am I."

The silence grew longer as the shadows shrank away from the coming dawn. Royce didn't know what else to say, and he wasn't going to risk pissing off Torus with more than his Lieutenant wanted to know. They still weren't home yet, and they'd need each other if they were ever to see Dragonfell again.

"What are you?" Torus asked, without opening his eyes. Royce didn't know if it was because Torus was just that tired, or because he couldn't bear to look at the man who'd betrayed him. Royce swallowed. It probably didn't matter.

"Just a soldier. Like you."

"You're not like me."

"No. I suppose not. My father called himself a Swordmage. A fighter who can hold a sword and tap into the Quintessential Sphere."

"That's not possible. You'd die."

Royce's mirthless chuckle was harsh in the quiet morning.

"Make no mistake, I'm dying. I'm just going about it slowly. The Quintessential Curse will kill me just as it would kill a mage. It just takes longer."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I'm not a Quint. I can't tell you that. I don't really understand it myself."

"No," Torus shook his head. Now he opened his eyes, pinning Royce with them. "Why do you do it? Why pick up a sword if you know it'll kill you?"

"Because I have a duty to the Imperium and the One True King. I was destined to be the Captain of the Grand Army of the Imperium, just as my father before me. And my grandfather, and his father's father, and so on, and so forth. It wasn't something I could just decide against."

"Who else knows?"

"Faxon Indra. And you."

Torus was quiet for a long time, and Royce could see his troubled thoughts reflected in his light eyes.

"You're a rogue mage."

"Essentially." Royce nodded. "If the Inquisitors ever find out, they'll censure me. Or worse."

Torus shuddered. "What could be worse?"

"They could take me before Greymalkin and tell him that I've deceived him since I was a boy. I think, in a way, that would be worse than madness."

Torus snorted, and
then was quiet. Royce wondered where Shreth and Hsaan were. Surely the Grobins couldn't have gotten that far ahead of the predators.

"Do you expect me to keep your secret?" Torus asked finally.

"I expect you to do what your honor requires, Torus. I have nothing but respect for you. I always have. You're a good man and a fine soldier, and if you need to turn me in, I have no doubt that the army will prosper under your leadership."

"You think I want your job? Are you out of your mind? I'd rather clean
privies in the market square."

Royce laughed. If Torus was making a joke about it, then Royce's secret was safe. Torus might be sour about it for a while, and Royce couldn't blame him, but in the end, the burly Lieutenant would stand behind him. Whatever reply Royce could have made was preempted by the arrival of Shreth and Hsaan at the far edge of the clearing. He and Torus rose in unison, crossing their arms over their chests and bowing their heads as the Shyraan passed. Shreth fell to his knees near the body, his soft mewling almost harder to bear than a man's cries of anguish. Hsaan bowed his huge head, his ears flicked back, his tail laying limp behind him.

Hsaan placed a hand on Shreth's shoulder. He gripped it tightly, then turned to Royce and Torus.

"You did this? Why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do." Royce said it as if it was the only explanation.

The Shyraan's eyes narrowed, then his ears flipped forward and his shoulders sagged.

"Perhaps we misjudged you, humans. You are not emissaries of the Sirens. They leave us to rot on their beaches when we heed their demands. You've shown honor and respect, in battle and after."

Royce nodded.

"All we want is the chance to earn your respect in return."

"We'll see that you have that chance
," Shreth said, his voice soft, reverent. "You've done much for us already, Royce and Torus. If I might beg of you--"

"No begging is required, Shreth." Torus stooped and grasped one end of the long wooden poles he'd woven into the shroud. Royce bent and picked up the end opposite his Lieutenant.

"It would be our honor," Royce said.

Together, the humans and the Shyraan carried Faarsh's body out of the jungle. As they reached the wide beach, the sun broke over the Eastern horizon, bathing them in its warm glow.