Sworn To Transfer (22 page)

This time Ciardis saw the creature first. It came out of the trees in a blur of movement and went straight for the most defenseless: Terris, who stood off to the side. It almost looked human—a wrinkly, hunchbacked, nude human. But the creature, upright on two legs with claws as long as knives and serrated rows of teeth in its jaw, was the stuff of nightmares.

What was worse was that it immediately latched its teeth onto Terris’s shoulder. Her scream rent the air and blood blossomed down her chest. Meres Kinsight leaped over Vana and brought his sword crashing down on the creature’s back.

It was cleaved in half. Ciardis noted numbly,
That’s one sharp sword
. And then another wendigo came out of the bushes. Vana and Alexandra worked together, Alexandra throwing her knives and Vana calling in liquid fire. The weapons hit the creature in the shoulder and the chest respectively, but it wasn’t enough. It had slowed down but it was still coming.

“Fire doesn’t work on wendigos!” shouted Alexandra as she hurriedly dodged a swipe of the creature’s claws.

Meres had crouched down over Terris, desperately trying to stem the blood flowing from her shoulder. He would be of no help against the wendigo. Alexandra’s magic wasn’t really helping here, and Ciardis hadn’t the slightest clue what Vana could and couldn’t do.

The wendigo, ugly as sin, was turning back for another run at Vana and Alexandra. Ciardis stood in between the creature and its two intended victims. She gripped her knife tightly in her hand, knowing it wouldn’t make much difference in the scheme of things. Then a spear—tipped with silver—came sailing overhead. It hit the wendigo dead on, piercing it through the heart and pinning it to the tree trunk behind it. The creature died instantly.

Ciardis turned around and saw warriors on horseback riding their way. They looked a lot like Alexandra – perhaps more of the Panen people that lived in the forest. Ignoring them for the moment, she rushed to Terris’s side, fearing the worst. Meres said, “She’ll live, but she needs a healer.”

He whistled sharply to get the rider’s attention. It was the kind of whistle that would pierce through the noise of an angry crowd brawling in the streets. It definitely caught the rider’s notice. They bundled Terris up and had the others ride double.

By the time they reached their community, Terris was unconscious from blood loss and her brown skin was uncharacteristically pale. Ciardis feared for her friend’s life.

Dismounting quickly, the entire riding party rushed to follow the man carrying Terris into the healer’s compound. That compound was one of the few on the ground and had lights all around it. As steady crimson drops of blood dripped from Terris’s shoulder, Ciardis sent up a string of prayers to all the gods she’d ever believed in.

Please don’t let her die.

They took her through a carved wooden door and into a second room off to the side. Healers bustled in and out of the room assessing her injury, cleaning out the wound, healing the flesh, administering medicine, and bandaging the shoulder. Ciardis saw that it was black with the poison of the wendigo’s digestive system. They had to draw it out with magic, letting the poison leech out of her shoulder and drip down into a bowl below Terris’s bed until the water inside the bowl was as black as tar. 

The healers tried to clear the room, growing more impatient by the minute. Ciardis ignored them and planted herself firmly at the head of Terris’s bed. Out of their way and with fingers lingering on Terris’s forehead, she poured what magic she had into her friend. Her magic pulse would not stop beating, not on Ciardis’s watch. The healers would tell her later that she had helped. The continuous recharge of Terris’s magic allowed the young mage to burn off fever. But after a while Ciardis slipped so far into her trance state that even the sharp smell of vinegar under her nose didn’t awaken her.

As they left, one of the healers lit sticks of bitter weed sitting in wooden incense burners to cleanse the room. The smell of the bitter weed was enough revive Ciardis from the tired slump she’d adopted while watching over Terris. She wrinkled her nose and shot up from her crouched position by the bed. Bitter weed was the foulest smelling thing she’d ever come across. Unfortunately her legs were so tired from the crouch she had adopted that they had locked in place and she fell backward. She expected a hard, cold floor to meet her head, but was surprised when instead she fell back into a warm robe and a hard body. There was no mistaking it: She had fallen into a person. She wasn’t sure what was worse—falling to the floor in humiliation or almost crushing another person while she was at it.

Straightening up, she turned to apologize and noticed with confusion that the rest of the room was empty.

“Your friends have been sent to their beds,” said the man who stood behind her.

“I am Rainburn,” he continued. “You have traveled a long way to be here, Ciardis Weathervane. You should rest as well.”

“I’m not leaving Terris.”

He paused and turned slightly to gesture to a large armchair with blankets and pillows making a comfortable nest. “I assumed you wouldn’t. Your bed will be here tonight. By your friend’s side.”

“I’m not tired.”

“My apologies. I assumed the long journey would be stressful even for a Weathervane.”

“You assume a lot of things.”

Reaching down, he said, “But perhaps the chair would be comfortable anyway.”

Ciardis was too tired to feel the soothing tendrils he sent through her mind, the push to sleep. She didn’t argue as she settled into the chair and, with one last look at Terris’s resting form, collapsed into a deep sleep.

*****

T
he next morning she awoke to Alexandra standing over her. She carried coffee and a sandwich. Brusquely, she said, “All of us need to go to the Greeting Hall.” Ciardis turned quick eyes to Terris, who was still asleep.

“With the exception of the wounded,” Alexandra continued with a sip of her own coffee.

“It’s required. We need to present our party to the representatives. Come, Ciardis, Terris will be fine in the healer’s care,” said Vana.

Ciardis quietly stood. Her mouth tasted like shit that even the coffee couldn’t disguise and her eyes felt gritty. She was well rested, but that was the extent of her feel-good self this morning. She stank
.

“I need a bath,” she said irately. She wasn’t sure if she was mad at Vana for getting Terris into this situation, Alexandra for putting her in this situation, or that damn healer for putting her to sleep last night. She decided it didn’t matter. She had enough ire in her for all of them.

“You’ll get it later,” said Meres with a smirk. He had clearly had a bath and wore new, clean clothes. Ciardis extended her ire to him, as well, for good measure.

They all walked out silently, with Ciardis making sure to tell the healer on staff to come get her immediately when Terris awoke. As they walked in the morning sun, light shining brightly down upon them, Ciardis noticed they were in some kind of tree city. Homes were built high up in the branches of massive trees. Except for a few buildings at the base of the giant tree trunks like the healing center, the world of the Panen was in the skies. Turning in a circle, she took in the people walking along elaborate bridges and walkways up above her. Of course their destination was on the ground, located not too far from Terris’s bedside. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to investigate further before they arrived at a large meeting hall. But she put it on her to-do list for later.

The four of them walked side-by-side to the front of the hall where three men awaited them. They bore the same slender body structure that Alexandra and all the Panen did. They had the same pointed ears with tufts of fur and chestnut eyes, as well. But their skin was weird
.
It was as if an artist had taken a deep, rich brown and a verdant green and swirled them together. But the swirl hadn’t been completed, and they’d been left with mottled brown and green skin.

As they walked forward, Alexandra cursed. “These are my people’s warriors. I was hoping for the village council. Say nothing; I’ll do the talking.”

Hmm. I guess that explains the skin that looks like living camouflage. I wonder if it rubs off.

Meres tilted his neck until Ciardis heard an audible
crack
and felt the barest hint of magic from him. Vana had her hands folded across her chest, an impolite gesture for a companion, but cleverly put her hands in position to grab the knives she had hidden up her sleeves.

Am I the only one not prepared for a fight?

The man in the middle stood ramrod straight. His long hair was pulled back and he had a stony expression on his face. Without warning he was in motion. He had no sword or knife in his hands, but he didn’t look like he was running to them for a hug, either.

Alexandra moved just as fast. She met him in the middle of the room with a swift kick. He was faster. He dodged the blow like lightning. She was crafty and had already dropped to kick his feet out from under him. As he fell backwards she dove towards him with a knife. Grabbing his throat, she moved behind him and held the knife against his neck. His pulse beat steadily in his jugular vein just under the tip of her knife.

It should have been over then. It wasn’t. The second man came forward. Sword raised, he headed for the three humans. Meres pulled a sword out. Vana’s knives appeared like magic. Ciardis grabbed a hardwood staff that she’d been eyeing for a few minutes. They began to position themselves to surround him and face off against the third one if he joined in.

And then a voice called out from the entrance, “Stop! Immediately.”

They all turned to see a man with pale skin and long gray hair staring at them from the entrance to the building.

His gaze swept over the scene and he abruptly dismissed two of the warriors.

They sheathed their weapons and left the meeting hall without a word. Alexandra released the one she held at knifepoint. That one didn’t even glance back at the woman who held a knife at his back. He stepped forward and bowed briskly as he said, “Grandfather.”

The old man leaned on his cane and continued to stare.

“Such reprehensible behavior. From both of you. Julius, why didn’t you properly greet our guests?”

The warrior gave them all an unhappy stare.

He turned to Alexandra and stiffly, “You are once more welcome at our hearth.”

With a cold glance at her companions, he said, “Your guests, on the other hand...”

“That’s going to be a problem, Brother,” Alexandra replied through gritted teeth, “as I brought them here to settle the war on the
kith.”

“Brother?” echoed Ciardis.

A
lexandra ignored them. “Thank you for coming, Grandfather,” she said. “Before you stand the envoys from the Algardis Emperor: Lord Mage Meres Kinsight, Master of Beasts; Lady Companion Vana Cloudbreaker, Master of Codes and the Unknown; and Companion Trainee Ciardis Weathervane.”

The old man chuckled. “And by the envoys’ faces, you’ve left out a lot of details with them.”

He looked them over carefully, then turned around and began walking to the door. “Let’s get them up to speed, shall we?”

The siblings looked at each other uncomfortably and then Julius followed the old man out. Alexandra motioned for the group to follow.

As they walked the Panen patriarch said, “Lord Mage Meres Kinsight, I assume you know of the death of the
Cardiara
female. What you don’t know is that there are more deaths...many more.”

Ciardis flashed back to her conversation with the merchant, Alexandra and Maree Amber in the middle of the night. They had been warned to expect worse numbers than the reports conveyed but apparently Meres had not.

They came to very large and open plain. It was clear of trees and shrubs but not bodies. From end to end, the area was filled with death. But not humans—
kith
. The ones who weren’t dead lay moaning on the ground in agony. Amid it all, dozens of healers in blue and white—human as well as
kith
—raced back and forth attending to patients.

“For weeks injured
kith
have been appearing in the field,” the old man said.

“They have two kinds of wounds,” said Alexandra, stepping forward. “Long, diagonal strikes, like those done by a knife, and singes and burns, as if the victim were set on fire. The burns we have been able to mend, but ...”

She hesitated and her grandfather continued for her, “All of the diagonal strikes resisted all of our forms of healing. It is as if the wound just fills with poison again when the healer is done.”

“When it first started, we feared hunters had entered the Ameles Forest and left their murdered victims to be found in the open field. But day after day more injured and dead have appeared with no reason from what we can tell. No portalway exists here, and this area is no more magical than any other.”

Stepping forward, Lord Mage Meres Kinsight asked, “Have any of the victims been able to tell you who attacked them?”

“They all come from different parts of the forest and the surrounding area. But all of their stories have the same two things in common: they were all taken unawares. None heard a sound or knew they were being watched until the moment they were attacked. And they were all tortured by a figure that they call ‘the shadow man.’”

“Who is this shadow man?” questioned Lord Mage Meres.

“We don’t know if it’s one person or a group of people,” said Alexandra with pain stretched across her face. “If we did know who was responsible, they would not still be in the land of the living.”

“Some of my people believe the shadow man was conjured by a mage,” the old man said. “A human mage of immense power.”

“Dark magic such as that has not been seen since the Initiate Wars,” pointed out Lady Vana. “Are you sure a mage is the cause?”

“We are sure of nothing except that our people are dying,” spit out Alexandra.

“Now that you have seen the killing fields,” said the old man solemnly, “what will you do about them?”