Sourcethief (Book 3) (49 page)

* * * * * * *
*

"Tomas, what's going on?" Abbiley asked, a
tremor of panic rising in her voice.

"Well, my Kheshi is poor at best, but I must
imagine that there is an un-rescue attempt afoot," Tomas replied.
"I'm not sure quite where they would take us, since our last
accommodations are a mountain of rubble, but Khesh is big enough that they'd
find a place, I'm sure."

"What about Sir Erund, Lady Soria, and that
Takalish fellow?" Abbiley asked.

"Well, they seem to be faring well thus far.
I've taken us a bit wayward of the fray, of course, so I can't get much of a
view. You can hear as well as I though, that they still shout to one
another."

Tomas looked about. The others were far more a
threat than he was, and he was not fleeing, so the riders had paid them scant
attention. One of them took that moment to crash by, just a few lengths of a
horse from where they sat.

"What's this now?" Tomas exclaimed.
"I think I recognized that one. These fellows are the guards Lady Skaal
kept with her on our ride south. And to think, we shared tea with some of
them!"

* * * * * * *
*

Soria's opponents circled her, keeping well out of
her lunging reach. They had dismounted unwillingly, their horses dead nearby.
One wielded a long axe in two hands, the other stood unarmed—the greater
threat. Both had the sann—the Source—of a Tezuan adept, and the balance and
poise to show they were trained.

"You are one of ours," the unarmed Tezuan
said to her. "We should trade names, the better to sell our services to
our next employer, whoever proves the stronger here. I assume you are from one
of those mongrel schools ... more's the pity."

"I am Soria Coinblade. And no, I didn't study
in the north," Soria said, spitting on the ground to punctuate her
statement. "I trained at the Temple of the Sun."

"Liar! The Temple of the Sun would never take
in a northerner," the Tezuan shot back. "You get no name from me
until I get a proper introduction from you."

"Suit yourself," Soria replied.
"Maybe when you lay dying, you'll change your mind. Frankly, I don't think
I'll name the likes of you in my boasts."

"You little whore!" the unarmed Tezuan
exclaimed. He rushed her.

In her aether-vision, Soria saw the one with the axe
coming for her as well. Still facing the unarmed Tezuan, she flung her lone
dagger behind her. The axe wielder was caught unawares, and the dagger buried
itself in his chest.

The remaining Tezuan closed the distance to Soria,
and began an onslaught. His punches came in a blur, and his kicks came in
stride, never overbalancing him. Soria kept up with him by sheer force of
aether, speeding her hands, quickening her ducks and dodges. The Tezuan was a
better fighter than Mother Stina had ever been. Soria still had tricks of her
own when it became clear that speed and technique alone were not going to be
enough.

Soria allowed a punch to land—a clean shot, right to
her face. There was a quick flash as her shielding spell caught the blow, which
barely turned her jaw. She leaned into the blow, gaining the reach to put a knee
to her foe's chest and grab hold of his wrist. Even through the hardened
leather armor, she heard his ribs crunch. The force of the blow would have
flung the man away from her, but she had hold of him by the arm, and he could
only stumble that far from her. He tried to jerk his arm free, but he was
larger than Soria, and she allowed herself to be pulled toward him. The kick
that followed broke the man's neck.

Soria allowed the dead man to drop to the ground.
She took up her dagger from the axe wielder's body as she gathered her breath
once more.

Another horse approached, and she readied to throw
the dagger at its rider.

"Well fought, Soria," the man complimented
her. He held no weapon, nor had any about his person that she could see. There
was something familiar in his face though. "I can only imagine how
formidable you would have become if you had finished your training. You fight
with a novice's skills, but the sann of a dragon."

"I've seen a dragon, and I think you
overestimate me," Soria replied.
He must have been at my temple, but
who is he?

The man laughed. It was the easy, genuine laugh of a
man at ease. "The man you killed was named Jall. He was quite good. You
... wait, you don't know who I am, do you? Has it been so long, Soria, that you
have forgotten me?"

"I put the temple behind me. I kept what I
needed to know. I said I left all grudges behind me."

"Yes," the Tezuan said, "but you also
said you might remember friendships."

Soria shrugged. The Tezuan frowned.

"I suppose this might be easier, then," he
said. The Tezuan got off his horse. Soria waited as he tied the reins to a
branch of one of the fallen trees. "Knowing you held no affection for me,
I will not have my heart holding me back."

Soria searched the little wardrobe in her mind for a
face that might have been a younger version of this Tezuan warrior's, but came
away with nothing. It was an ill-kempt wardrobe, cluttered with memories of two
childhoods. It was filled with moonlit boat rides for two, rides in the
countryside, the wonders of nascent magical skills developing, and
occasionally—here and there—memories of a dusty stone temple run by grim
disciplinarians. The faces from the latter were covered in dust.

Soria studied his Source and was shocked. It was
something that belonged in Veydrus, not Tellurak. She had to remind herself
that the same could be said of her own, but that was scant comfort when that
same distinction accounted for her advantage in combat over nearly every
opponent she had faced.

The Tezuan held his palms out before her and
focused. She knew he was inspecting her Source in much the same way.

"Oh, wonderful. I had never mastered the sann
sense while you were still at the temple, Soria, but now I see why you were
always so strong, despite being so sloppy," the Tezuan said.

"I'll give you the same choice your friend had.
If you want to give me your name, fine. If not, I'll either have it from your
dying breath or not at all," Soria told him. She strengthened her
shielding spell, drawing from her own Source as the Tezuan taught. The Tezuan's
eyes widened.

"That trick they never taught. You learned that
somewhere else, didn't you?" the Tezuan asked. Soria was tempted to slide
back into aether-vision, just to keep that smirking, self-congratulatory smile
out of her sight. "Come now, Soria. Who else are you?"

Soria's blood chilled.
This pig-sticking bastard
is twinborn
. She redoubled her efforts to remember him, but caught nothing
but wind. The boys at the temple kept their heads clean shaven. The
shoulder-length mop of golden locks and the sculpted beard sharpening his chin
could have hidden any childhood acquaintance.

"Not talking, eh?" he said. He took a
passive Tezuan stance. "Fine. But you are to be killed by Barum, whom you
once claimed to love."

Barum?
She had been a girl, not yet ten,
when she had claimed to fancy Barum. It was imitation of the older girls and
their illicit affections. She and Barum had been playmates, as much as playing
was allowed at the Temple of the Sun, but nothing more.
I guess it meant
more to him than to me.

"Sorry, don't recall the name," she said.
Barum's face contorted in a fury.

"Liar!" he exclaimed, and rushed her.

He fought like Jall, a blur of motion that Soria
fought to keep up with. More than one blow of his rang against her shielding spell.
He was faster than her, and his technique flawless. Soria backed away as she
defended, giving ground to buy time. She found a fallen tree and ducked beneath
it, forcing Barum to either go over or under it to follow her. He leaped over
the trunk, and Soria dove back under. She was relieved to find she was at least
nimbler afoot.

"Cowardice? Is this how you act when
overmatched?" Barum taunted.

Pride isn't going to get me
killed today
,
Soria promised herself. She glanced around the forest. All she saw was the
horse with Abbiley and Tomas; the noble fop had acquired a sword from
somewhere, and was brandishing it at the trees. She heard, but could not see,
Brannis and Rakashi. The whole of the area was a roving battle.

"Enough of this!" Barum shouted, after the
third time back and forth across the same tree. He went over, she went under;
he went under, she went over. "
Eket jimagu denpek wanapi,
" she
heard Barum chant.

Merciful Tansha, he's a sorcerer!
Soria dove to
the side as the fire bolts flew. One caught her in the side, another in the
small of her back. She felt them gnaw at her shield spells, sapping her
defenses. The others missed, to splash among the brush.

"Where will you hide now?" Barum asked.

The forest began to burn.

* * * * * * *
*

The Ghelkan lunged, and Brannis swept Avalanche out
to meet him. The lunge had been a feint though, and the Tezuan twinborn was
already out of reach before the blade was even close. The Ghelkan shook his
head slowly, waggling a finger.

"Trees move not. I do," the Ghelkan said.
The man was smaller than Rakashi, but Brannis knew that it was more of an
advantage than a hindrance. He could have stood in against an ogre, but a foe
he could not catch was a foe he could not harm. Brannis stepped forward and
took a quick swipe at the Ghelkan; he hopped back. Brannis quick-stepped in
behind the first strike to catch the Ghelkan off guard, but the man turned his
hips and sprinted out of reach, stopping just after Brannis's burst of pursuit
ended.

The Ghelkan looked around, and found a long axe
lying near one of his dead comrades. He took it up and brandished it at
Brannis. Brannis slashed at the axe, trying to cut the head free of the shaft,
but the Ghelkan ducked the weapon out of the way.

"You'll never kill me at this rate," Brannis
taunted in Kadrin. The Ghelkan just smiled, and continued holding the axe blade
just beyond his reach.

It was a crude weapon, too heavy for a man of his
size to wield properly. The axe was double-headed, with a short spike on the
end of the shaft. It was the latter that seemed most of interest to the Ghelkan
twinborn; he wielded the axe like an overbalanced spear.

Brannis took a new approach—he tried to steer the
man's flight. He swiped to one side or the other, trying to back the man
against a tree. It would only take a moment's error to cost the man his life,
Brannis knew.

The flaw in the man's retreat seemed apparent when
Brannis lined him up with an oak twice as wide as his shoulders. Even if the
man veered left or right as he backed away, the tree would block him. Brannis
made what should have been the final lunge.

The man hopped back, right into the tree, but with
his feet up. The Ghelkan kicked against the trunk, becoming a spear, axe blade
leading. The point of the spike deflected off Brannis's gorget, and the curved
back side of one axe blade wedged itself about his neck, grasping at him like a
noose. Brannis was lifted from his feet by his own momentum, and deposited on
his back.

The Ghelkan continued on past Brannis, vaulting over
him by the axe shaft, placing the whole of his weight on Brannis's neck. A
flick of Avalanche snapped the blade, and sent the man sprawling.

Brannis arose, trying to feel at his neck through
his armor, and found that the quicksilver and gold suit had prevented a certain
death.

The Ghelkan was looking on wide-eyed, holding half
an axe shaft as a makeshift sword. Brannis took a step forward, and the Ghelkan
hopped back an equal distance.

"You don't want to fight?" Brannis asked.
An idea sprang to mind, a wicked idea. "I am a demon. I will burn the
whole forest down around us."

"
Halatu ... dunaxi ... tukaso ... xatagotagi
...
" Brannis chanted, spreading his arms wide and looking to the sky.
He hoped that the Ghelkan knew enough magic from the other side to recognize a
hellfire spell. He was reciting it slower than even an Academy lecturer—not
that the particular spell was part of any curriculum—in the hope the man would
prefer his chances in close combat over being burned alive.

The Ghelkan hesitated. Brannis suspected he was
being examined in the aether. There was a good chance, he suspected, that his
armor might obscure his sickly Source behind a wall of more potent aether. If
not given close examination, the claim of demonhood might seem plausible.

"No! Stop!" the Ghelkan cried. He came at
Brannis in a headlong rush. To the man's credit, had Brannis truly been in the
midst of such a spell as he claimed, he would not have finished it. The man's
fist turned Brannis’s helmet aside before he could even bring Avalanche around.

The Ghelkan likely died a hero's death, to his mind,
saving his companions from a mad demon's fires.

* * * * * * *
*

Rakashi watched the remaining battles from the crook
of a once-mighty oak's branches. He stood with his half-spear in one hand,
holding his balance with the other, concealed among the leaves. Five of the
horsemen were dead by his blade, but he counted himself fortunate. He had not
run into any of the Tezuan twinborn that Brannis and Soria had found. They were
fascinating to watch, but deadly. He had seen most of Brannis's last battle,
and now watched Soria.