Refuge: Kurt's Quest (2 page)

[Now,] sent Kurt to the wolf, running toward
the headman while sweeping his blade back.

All of the enemy’s horses now began to rear and
buck as images of slavering fangs and the smell of blood entered their minds. 
The nomads tried to fight their mounts under control, without success in most
cases, and over a score of men hit the ground while their horses ran off into
the night.

The headman was able to keep his horse under
control, barely.  That gave him a good perch to see death coming his way, as
the Paladin blade swept in and sliced through his left arm and into his body,
hurling him from the horse as his severed arm fell to the ground.  “I guess you
really did make a big mistake
,”
said Kurt as he stepped over the man and
headed toward the nearest still mounted nomad.  “I guess if it’s your last, it
should be a big one.”

*     *     *

To Jackie the arrows seemed to be traveling at
the speed of thrown sticks.  She sliced her blades out at the two nearest,
watching one flare into ash while the other shattered into shards of ice. 
Fire
and
Ice
she had named her blades.  Not the most original name, she knew,
but ones that fit their powers.  She reversed her swings and took out the other
two arrows, protecting the back of the mage who didn’t even know they were
there.  She didn’t worry about the shafts heading toward him from the front. 
Having seen him in action before, she was sure those arrows would not exist for
long.

The archers tried to get another shaft to their
bows.  Jackie launched herself into the air, straight at one of the horsemen,
taking herself out of the aim of the others.  She did not want to harm the
horses, if possible.  They were dumb beasts who really didn’t want anything to
do with the current situation.  Their riders were another thing altogether. 
That first rider tried to move his bow, then reach for another weapon, not
doing either very well.  His last sight was the red glowing blade heading
toward his forehead.  As it sliced and burned into his brain, reducing that
organ to ash, he knew no more. 
Ice
sliced into the rider next to her
primary target, its super sharp edge cutting through leather and chain while
freezing both onto the arm of the rider.  The man screamed in agony as the
blade went through the arm and into the thoracic cavity, freezing all the
tissue around the cut.

Then Jackie was over the two men and somersaulting
in the air, landing lightly on her feet and turning swiftly, her blades intercepting
the two arrows that the surviving archers had sent her way.  Both men were
yelling in a language she couldn’t understand.  But it was easy enough to get
the point.  The men wanted to kill her, but weren’t sure how to do that.  She
smiled and took a couple of running steps toward them, going up between them,
her blades striking out.  One bow burned, the other shattered, and though the
effects were different on each man the result was the same, death.

“Oh crap,” she said under her breath as she
landed and turned to the sound of hooves beating the earth.  And the sight of a
half dozen men coming out of the night, yelling as they leveled their lance
heads at her.

*     *     *

Garios na Gonron was no coward.  No one could
rise to be a senior Warpriest of Grimmoire, the primary god of his people,
without a great measure of courage.  He still did not like the idea of fighting
almost eighty mounted humans with only four companions, no matter how powerful
they were.  Things happened, and on this world numbers counted, a lot.  But
they didn’t bring the fight to this enemy.  No, the enemy had brought the fight
to them, and now there was no avoiding them.

And I’m the shortest and least maneuverable one
here
,
thought the Dwarf as he brought his shield up and readied his hammer, looking
for the most appropriate target.  There was nothing for it but to attack the
nearest nomad to him, who was sitting atop a large horse.  Garios didn’t like
the idea of hurting the poor beasts either, but he was willing to do what it took
to take out an enemy.  He ran toward the man as fast as his short legs would
carry him, catching the man’s lance head on the shield and pushing it up and
away.  The heavy hammer came around and smacked the horse in its right foreleg,
shattering the bone.  The horse screamed in pain and reared up, throwing the
rider.  It came back down and fell as the foreleg would no longer support it. 
Garios ignored its cries with a twinge of guilt as he ran at the rider and
raised his hammer.  The man had time for one quick scream before the magic
weapon smashed his helmet and head with one blow.

The Dwarf heard the chanting and looked over at
the source.  A trio of Shamans were raising their staffs and pointing them at
the Mage.  Garios was sure they would not be sending fire from those staffs. 
Even the Shamans had to note that everything James was throwing was fire
based.  At the moment the young man was burning a horseman from his saddle,
then turning to slash a pair of arrows from the air.

Garios raised his hammer and chanted the words
to his own spell.  Not a moment too soon a shimmering wall of force sprang into
being between the nomad magic users and the Mage.  A trio of lightning bolts
sprang from the staffs, heading for the Mage.  They hit the shield of force and
bounced into the sky, spent harmlessly.  James turned their way and raised his
hands, sending an arc of fire at the shamans.  One caught the brunt of the
force, and his smoking body fell off the back of his panicked horse, which
bolted away with its blanket on fire.  The others caught the edge of the cone,
and beat at their flaming garments while their own beasts carried them into the
night.

James looked over at Garios and nodded, then
raised a hand and sent a bolt of fire toward the Dwarf.  Garios’ eyes went
wide, he wondered if the young man had gone mad, and he started to drop.  The
bolt went well wide of him and hit the lancer who was coming up on the blind
side of the Priest, blasting him from his horse.  The Dwarf turned and raised
his shield, bracing his feet and taking the lance of the next rider on the face
of his protective implement.  He pushed the lance overhead and struck out with
his hammer, hitting the rider in the leg to the satisfying crunch of breaking
bone.  And then there was no time for thought as more riders came out of the
night.

*     *     *

Kurt swung his sword again, taking off the head
of a lance, then swinging back to take the rider in the ribs, knocking him from
his mount in the process.  The next rider, this one without a lance, spurred
his horse straight for Kurt.  The big man lowered his shoulder and stepped into
the horse.  The impact staggered the Immortal.  It staggered the horse even
more, and Kurt squatted, grabbed at the legs of the horse, and thrust upward,
lifting the beast up and over.  It fell to the ground on top of its rider. 
Kurt stepped around the horse while it struggled to rise and thrust his sword
into the nomad.  He was in no mood for mercy at this time.

Another horseman reigned in and raised his bow,
taking careful aim at Kurt.  The shaft sped in, looking to the eyes of the
Immortal like it was traveling in slow motion.  He swatted the shaft away with
his free hand, then ran at the archer, leading with his sword.  In a moment
that man was falling to the ground with an awful wound in his chest, and Kurt
was looking for his next target.

*     *     *

Watching his partners in action, Fenris
wondered why he had been so concerned about taking on three or so score of
nomads.  The Immortals were slicing through them like they were helpless
children, while the magic users, the Dwarf and the Human, were throwing spells
to stagger the imagination. 
And
, he thought to himself,
I’m no
slouch with a bow.
  But now he was out of arrows, and he pulled his long
sword from its sheath and headed for a pair of nomads who were scrambling to
their feet and staring in confusion at the carnage around them.

One continued to stare until Fenris had put the
blade of his sword through the man’s guts.  That seemed to galvanize his
partner, who swung a hard blow at the Elf.  Fenris stepped out of the way, then
took the next swing on his blade with a clang of metal.  The nomad was not a
bad swordsman, but Fenris was a master, and had been a fighting man for over a
thousand years.  Seven blows and the nomad’s sword was out of his hands,
spinning through the air.  Fenris swung his blade in and took the man in the
neck.  With spurting blood the man fell lifelessly to the ground, and Fenris
brought his sword up into a defensive posture and looked around.  He saw the
Immortals off a short distance, killing like machines of death, and the human
Mage throwing blasts of fire right and left.  A bolt of lightning came out of
the night and struck the Mage, and Fenris cried out, expecting to see a smoking
body hit the ground.  Instead the young man fell twitching, and seemed to
recover faster than possible after absorbing so much electricity.  The Shaman
who had fired the bolt rode out of the night, his staff pointed at the human. 
Fenris yelled again and started to run toward the Shaman, knowing that he would
not beat the spell.

*     *     *

Jackie leapt into the air, over the heads of
the lances.  She had joked about being a superhero, and at times like this she
felt like one.  Now she vaulted five meters into the air, turning into a
forward flip, her swords questing for targets and taking two of the nomads from
their saddles.  She landed lightly on her feet beyond them, then spun around as
the other two men tried to pull their horses around.  Another leap, another
swing, and there was only one rider left to turn toward her.  The man looked at
her with frightened eyes, plainly terrified.  Still, he spurred his horse
toward her, and Jackie had to respect his courage.  That didn’t keep her from
plunging both of her blades into his chest, searing one lung while freezing his
heart and the other lung.

Jackie spun in place, looking for more
targets.  She saw the Mage go down under the lightning bolt, and the Shaman
ride toward him.  She started to run his way as the staff pointed at the young
man again.  Despite her speed she knew that she would not make it.

*     *     *

James grunted in pain as the bolt of lightning
took him in the chest.  His teeth clashed together and he bit off a small
portion of the tip of his tongue as he fell to the ground.  He knew that the
power of the bolt was enough to have killed him if not for his own power, which
gave him some resistance to all the elemental powers.  More to fire than the
others.  Fire could not hurt him, while the others could.

He looked up to see the Shaman sitting his
horse, looking down at him with hate filled eyes, raising his staff to point at
the young Mage.  And this time he knew the power of the lightning would kill
him, despite his own resistance.

The Shaman screamed and dropped his staff,
bringing both hands to his head.  Something covered in gray fur came flying out
of the night, hitting the Shaman and taking him from his horse.  The man hit
the ground with ninety kilos of wolf on top.  He had time for one more scream
before the animal took out his throat.

James picked himself up off the ground, looking
around to see from where the next threat was coming.  The night was quiet, with
no more nomads moving about.  James sighed in relief as he saw all of his own
party coming out of the night. 
We didn’t lose anyone
, he thought,
thanking the Gods of this world for small favors.  Then the Elf walked up to
him and looked at him with angry eyes.

“Now you know why it’s not a good idea to play
with the fire at night,” said the Elf, spitting out the words.  “None of this
was necessary.  When we tell you something, those of us who know what is going
on, it is best to listen.  We are very fortunate to have escaped without harm.”

James bowed his head, knowing that the man was
correct.  Next he found himself looking at the Dwarf.

“You are very powerful, young Master,” said the
Priest, nodding his head.  “You have a natural power, unlike most mages.  And
such power comes without the wisdom that is necessary to develop the scholarly
powers.  You must develop such wisdom through experience, or die from the
consequences of your own willfulness and arrogance.”

“I understand,” said James, looking over at the
Shaman who had almost taken his life. 
I needed that.  I need some humility
in my life before I get us all killed.

“We need to leave this place, now,” said
Fenris, moving to his bedroll and starting to put together his pack.

“Why?” asked Jackie, looking around.  “We
killed them all.”

“Maybe we did,” said Fenris with a grimace.  “And
maybe we didn’t.  Either way, they will be missed at their encampment, and more
will come.  Maybe more than we can handle.”

“They are correct, Fraulein,” said Kurt,
walking over to his own gear.  “I learned the hard way that it is not good to
be where an enemy can find you.”

Minutes later they were mounted on the Elfin
horses and riding through the night.  The young Mage looked back at the
darkened campsite as he rode, happy to be away from the scene of so much death.

Chapter Two

The forest country was a nice break from the
grasslands they had been riding for so many days.  Their horses had
outdistanced any possible pursuit, but they knew it was there.  As soon as they
entered the forest of the Nord Peninsula Fenris and Garios visibly relaxed.

“The nomads do not like the presence of so many
trees around them,” said Fenris, his eyes constantly moving.  “Unfortunately,
there is good reason for that, as enemies can hide in the forest.  Still, my
people are more at home in the forest, something ancestral, I am sure.”

“They also want nothing to do with the Nords,”
said Garios.  “My people have traded with the white humans for ages, and I can
communicate with them.”

“White humans?” asked Jackie in a curious
voice.  “Like the Germans?”

“Not like the Germans,” said the Dwarf, shaking
his head.  “Not like any of your people.”

“Are they good or bad?” asked Kurt, his own
eyes searching the forest, even though he knew his own scout, out there in the
woods, was better than anything that might be trying to surprise them.

“They are like most humans,” said the Dwarf
with a smile.  “Some are good, some evil.  Most are somewhere in between, and
want nothing more than to be left alone to live their lives.”

[Riders approach] came the transmission from White
Paw.  [Many riders.]

[Like the riders from the plains,] sent Kurt in
reply.

[No,] said the wolf.  [They are heavy with the
steel you humans wear, on big horses.]

[Keep a close watch, and be prepared to use
your mind when I call.}

Fenris’ ears perked up, and Kurt knew that the
Elf could now hear them.  It took a few moments for his own ears to pick them
up, and he was sure a normal human would still be unaware of the presence of
the men.  They had stopped by a bend in the road, where they could see a
hundred meters of straight path, and allow the others to see them as well. 
Fenris had thought it a good idea to let the riders see them, as surprise could
turn into a disaster quickly.

The first riders to come into sight stopped as
soon as they saw the adventurers.  They were clad in chain from head to foot,
with conical helmets on their heads, and long swords at their side.  Their
sircoats were worked with a brown bear.  They were big men, strongly built, on
big horses.  They had broad faces and big noses, features that reminded Kurt of
Africans on Earth.  And they looked like they had painted their faces with
flour, or some kind of solid white makeup.

One of the riders turned and shouted something,
then both men drew their blades and started their horses toward the party at a
walk.  When they had covered about a third of the distance more riders came
around the curve of the road in a column of twos.  All were armed and armored
much as the first two, except for what looked like a pair of magic users among
them.  The riders kept coming around the curve, until Kurt counted thirty of
them.

The leading pair stopped ten meters from Kurt
and Fenris, the leading riders of their group.  They looked over the human and
Elf, swords still gripped tightly in their hands.  “What manner of men are
you?” asked the older of the soldiers.  Kurt heard the words as if they were
German, translated by the Dwarf, who rode his own horse to the front where he
could communicate with the Nords.

“We are friends,” said Garios, holding up an
open hand.  “We are merely passing through.”

Another knight, this one with an aristocratic
cast to his features, rode through the others.  A man with a lance and flapping
pennant rode beside him, and a woman in leather armor followed. 
That’s a
magic user
, thought Kurt, his eyes following the small group.  They reined
to a halt in front of the party and the two scouts moved their horses back.

“An Elf and a Dwarf,” said the leader, bowing
his head to the pair.  “But the three of you?  Are you Danes?  Those who have
so troubled the king?”

[So, the Danish people came in to these lands,]
sent Jackie to Kurt.  [I think we’re going to find all the Earth’s people in
this place, eventually.]

Kurt sent back his acknowledgement, paying
attention to the exchange that would determine whether they had another fight
on their hands.

“They are not Danes, whoever that might be,”
answered Garios, half turning and nodding toward his friends.  “These people
are of the Germans, Americans and Brits, though of the same world.”

“Peoples of whom I have not heard,” said the
knight, bowing his head toward the humans.

“How have the Danes troubled your king?” asked
Kurt, waiting a moment while Garios translated.

“Because the king is a damned fool who would
sell his soul to that Ellala Emperor,” said the standard bearer.  The leader
immediately raised a hand to stop the man from talking while shooting him a
warning glance.

[There is trouble in this land,] sent Fenris to
the humans.  [More than that caused by the newcomers.]

Kurt nodded his head.  He had already figured
as much from the statement of the standard bearer.  The king was dealing with
his enemies, and not everyone in this kingdom thought that a good idea.

The leader looked over at the magic user.  She
closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened, they opened wide.  “There
is great power in all of these humans,” she said in a quiet voice.  “That one,”
she said, pointing at James, “is a Mage of tremendous ability.  A natural magic
user.”  She looked over at Jackie and her eyes grew even wider.  “This one is
Immortal.  I see no end to her life.”  And then she looked at Kurt with black
eyes that seemed to look right through him.  “And this one is he who was
prophesized.”

The knight’s eyes went wide and he stared at
Kurt.  He shook his head, blinked his eyes, and looked at the three humans
again with a smile.  “I forget my manners, my Lords and Lady.  I am Sir Gromli,
in the service of the Duke of Nautersham.  I am certain the Duke would wish to
dine with you tonight, that he may satisfy his curiosity.”

[I sense no deception in this one, friend
Kurt,] sent White Paws.

[I want you to stay hidden while we are in the
castle,] sent Kurt.  [Can you take care of yourself through the night?]

[This one will have no trouble finding food and
drink in these woods,] replied the wolf.  [I shall wait for you outside the
castle.]

“We will be pleased to meet with your Duke, Sir
Gromli,” said Kurt, bowing his head.  “Please, lead on.”

It was a two hour ride to the castle and its
surrounding town, during which time the Dwarf taught the humans as much of the
local language as he could over the mind link.

*     *     *

The town reminded Kurt of Medieval towns he had
seen in Germany, or the walled town that had still existed in France in his
time.  The houses were close together, as space was at a premium behind the
walls.  Carts of produce came through the gate from the surrounding farms.  The
town smelled of unwashed bodies and raw sewage, and the German was unsurprised
to see people tossing chamber pots from their windows onto the streets below. 
That
is something we will not tolerate in our new order
, he thought, looking
over and seeing that Jackie and James were both wrinkling their noses in
disgust.  And Fenris looked like he was about to puke, though the Dwarf held up
well enough.

The people of the town seemed a cheerful folk,
going about their business with smiles, chatting with friends and neighbors as
they went about their tasks.  There were many Halflings among the humans, and
when Kurt mentioned that to the knight the man replied with a smile.  “The
little people make good subjects,” said the Knight, waving at a guardsman who
was patrolling the market.  “They have a way with plants that humans cannot
duplicate.”

“They also have other skills that are not so
much in demand,” said one of the men at arms.  “Thieving little bastards.”

“They do indeed make good thieves, spies and
assassins,” agreed Sir Gromli.  “When they are on your side that is a good
thing.  When not, well…”  The man pointed at a hanging cage over the marketplace,
where small bones bleached in the late afternoon sun.

The little people seemed even more cheerful
than the humans, and Kurt wondered about that dynamic.  Were they just that
more cheerful as a race?  Or were they able to distance themselves from the
troubles of the world better than the humans?

They passed through the portcullis, past the
heavily armored guards, and into the large courtyard of the castle.  They
dismounted and let the grooms take their mounts to the stables, then followed
the knight into the keep.  The Major Domo of the Duke’s palace led them up some
stairs to rooms that were being readied for them, chambers much better than
they would have found in any local inn.  And then they were led in to meet the
Duke.

Duke Haraald was a man in the early stages of
old age, still vigorous enough, though at first glance not really fit for
campaigning.  He sat the high seat in his hall as the party was brought before
him, watching them through his black eyes as they walked forward.  A woman in
the robes of a mage stood beside him, her eyes darting from person to person as
she leaned in and whispered into his ear.

“You are those prophesized to come and take us
from our bondage?” asked the Duke, standing from his chair.  He looked over at
the guards who were lined up against the wall and gestured with his hands. 
They started to file out of the room, their captain looking none too happy. 
“You stay, Sir Gromli.”

[More about this damned prophecy,] sent Kurt to
Jackie, keeping his face devoid of the emotion he felt. 
I really didn’t ask
for any of this
, he thought.

[You might as well get used to it,] said
Jackie.  [It’s not about to just go away.]

“We are on a quest, your Grace,” said Garios,
bowing.  [Be careful of your words,] he sent to the others.  [Until we know
where this one stands.  I sense no evil on the man, but remember, good can
serve evil, just as evil can serve good.]  “We are on the business of the
Goddess.”

The Duke bowed his head and made the sign of
Arathonia with his hand.  [He serves the Goddess,] sent Garios.  [Or at least
as much as he can.]

“Ask him about the kingdom as a whole,” said
Kurt, looking over at the Dwarf.  “I would know what we face, and where we
might be able to get a ship to our destination.”

Garios nodded and started to speak, again
translating through the telepathic link they all shared.  “My Lord General Kurt
would know where this kingdom stands in the war between the forces of life and
death?”

The Duke looked down at the floor and spat.  “I
stand with life,” he said in an angry tone.  “As to where that coward of a king
stands, it depends on who is pressuring him at the moment.  I wouldn’t put
myself in his hands if I were you.  You might be honored guests, or prisoners,
to be turned over to the evil Ellala to the south.”

“And where can we get a ship?”

“I would give you one, if I could,” said the
Duke after a short laugh.  “But, as my Duchy is land locked, I see no way to
bring one to my castle.  The only place where ships are allowed to dock is the
capital.”

“Perhaps we could sneak in,” said Jackie, her
words translated by Garios.

The Duke laughed again, then shook his head. 
“I could as soon smuggle five caged tigers into the city.  The Dwarf and the
Elf might pass.  Might, I say.  But the three of you, especially the woman,
would never pass.  And there are mages at all the gates checking for
enchantments.  As soon as you entered the city the king would know.  I would
suggest that you go to the port cities of the bend, the coastline of free
trading cities to the east.”

“That would add four or five days to our
journey,” said Garios, looking back at Kurt.

“I’m not sure we have that much time,” said the
German,.

“What is this quest that you are on?” asked the
Duke, frowning.

“We can trust him,” said Garios.  “He is a true
servant of life.”  The Dwarf turned back to the Nord.  “We are on a quest to
retrieve the Crown of the Lost Gods.”

The Duke staggered for a moment, then sat back
in his seat.  “Why would anyone seek such an abomination?”

“To keep it from the hands of the evil Ellala
Emperor,” said Garios.  “He has already sent a party to find it.”

“And what will you do if you get your hands on
this, thing?”

“Make sure that it is never used,” said Fenris.

“Throw the damned thing into the deepest part
of the sea,” said Kurt, raising his voice.  “I have no use for artifacts that
enslave the minds of other men.”

“Your Majesty,” said the Duke, rising again
from his seat and bowing.  “I will help you as I can.  But I must know that you
can help my people as well.  The mothers and children often go hungry from the
taxes the king levies, money that he sends in tribute to the evil Ellala.”  The
Duke looked over at Fenris and nodded.  “Not meaning your people, my Lord.  I
recognize the markings on your sir coat, and there is no truer friend to the
humans than Lianardis.”