The Hammer and the Blade (27 page)

  The hiresword wrapped up the Vwynn's legs. The creature continued to struggle, squirming, hissing, and snapping its teeth.

  "Get a blade to its throat, Baras," Nix said, struggling to hold down the creature. "See if it understands that."

  "Aye," Baras said, and put a blade at the Vwynn's throat. The creature did not still at first so Baras pricked it with the blade.

  The Vwynn cried out in pain as a line of black blood flowed. After that, the Vwynn went still. The creature's slitted eyes darted wildly here and there, and it respired wetly from the lines of its nostrils.

  "Do it, Rakon," Nix said. "Hurry."

  Rakon removed two metal bloodletting tubes and a ceramic mortar and pestle from his bag. He jabbed one of the tubes into Egil's arm – the priest did not stir – and collected the blood in the mortar. Rakon then kneeled beside the Vwynn and jabbed the bleeder tube through its scales and into its arm. The Vwynn squealed and squirmed while Rakon collected its black blood.

  Rakon moved closer to the fire. Other than Baras and Jyme, who assisted Nix with the Vwynn, the other guards backed off. Nix understood. No man who made his way with sharpened steel felt comfortable around those who made their way with spells.

  "How long will this take?" Jyme asked over his shoulder, still holding the Vwynn's legs.

  Rakon did not answer. He placed the mortar in the edge of the embers to warm it, kneeled beside the fire, and stirred the mix of blood with a hollow glass rod.

  "My bag," he called over his shoulder.

  After a pause, one of the guards brought the black bag to him and withdrew.

  Rakon removed tubes of powder and small bottles of liquid from the bag, adding a pinch of this, a dash of that.

  The mixture in the mortar crackled. Rakon stirred it anew with the rod, intoning a chant under his breath. Soon the mixture emitted a puff of smoke. Rakon nodded, picked up the mortar, and stood.

  The Vwynn's eyes fixed on the sorcerer; its chest rose and fell rapidly. A forked tongue licked the ridges of its lips nervously. Small clicking noises sounded from somewhere deep in its throat. Perhaps it had a sense of what was transpiring.

  Rakon moved to Egil's side and dipped his fingers into the mortar. They came away covered in a glob of a thick, clear substance.

  He rolled it between his palms like clay, thinning it more and more, letting the thin line his movement created spool to the ground at his feet.

  "What's he doing?" Jyme asked.

  "Hsst," Nix said.

  Rakon incanted as he spun and the thin line glistened, twitched. When he'd spun a length of it out, he took the spun end, held it to Egil's nostril, and whispered words of power. The line snaked into Egil's nose and kept going, more and more of it disappearing into the priest's body. Rakon held the other end, still incanting.

  The priest's body arched and thin lines appeared on his flesh, like veins but not veins, welts caused by the intrusion of the magical line as it wormed through his body. The process went on for a long thirty-count, and during that time the exposed line that Rakon still held changed from clear to yellow, then from yellow to the deep blue-black of a bruise.

  "Is it drawing out the poison?" Jyme whispered.

  "I think so," Nix said.

  Still incanting softly, Rakon turned from Egil and toward the Vwynn. He continued to work the blob of magical material in his hands until he'd spun it all out, and held the opposite side of the discolored line in his hand.

  The creature struggled anew, the blade at its throat no deterrent. Nix grunted with the effort of holding it flat, and Jyme laid his weight on the creature's legs to maintain his hold. Baras moved his blade aside and put a hand on the frantic creature's chest. The Vwynn whined, the sound high-pitched and frighteningly human. Rakon turned to the creature, holding the other end of the line between forefinger and thumb. He kneeled.

  "Wait," Nix said.

  Rakon halted but did not stop his incantation. He loomed over the Vwynn, an executioner with axe held high.

  "Wait?" Jyme said. "Wait what? Do it, man." Then to Rakon, "Do it, my lord."

  "No, wait," Nix said. "Wait, godsdammit."

  "It's just an animal," Jyme said. "Look at it. It'd kill us if it could."

  Nix knew it wasn't just an animal. The transference wouldn't work on an animal. The Vwynn was bestial, savage, but it was a thinking, feeling creature akin to a man. He was murdering it to save Egil.

  Nix had killed a helpless creature only once before. Then, he'd been a boy fighting for bread, and had stabbed the granther in the kidney when the old man had been too exhausted to fight back. He regretted it still, and he always would.

  And when he helped kill the Vwynn, he'd regret that, too. But he'd do it anyway. For Egil. He stared down at his friend's wan countenance and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

  "No one ever speaks of this to Egil or I cut out your fakking throat. Rakon's sorcery healed him and that's the whole of the story. You don't know how it worked. It just did. Understood?"

  "The priest isn't gonna care about this animal," Jyme said.

  "You don't know him," Nix said. "And this is not an animal."

  "What?" Jyme asked. "It's not?"

  Nix ignored Jyme. "Baras, pry open its mouth with a blade."

  Baras stuck his dagger in the creature's mouth, forcing it open, and Nix was uncomfortably reminded of Baras putting his blade against Nix's face to force him to accept the spellworm. The Vwynn flailed but it was too exhausted to resist much.

  "Do it," Nix said to Rakon.

  The Vwynn made a hopeless, desperate sound as Rakon fed the magical filament into its mouth and the line snaked down its throat. Almost immediately the Vwynn's body arched and it bared its teeth in pain.

  The line pulsed, bulbs of black moving along its length, man and Vwynn connected by a cord of magic. Whatever the spell had taken out of Egil was now being pushed into the Vwynn. Rakon stood, holding the filament that bound man and Vwynn. He waited, waited, and then gave the line a hard jerk. It came free of both bodies in a spray of mucus, squirmed for a moment, then dissipated into nothingness.

  The Vwynn seized, arched, exhaled loudly, and went limp.

  Egil groaned, rolled over to face the fire, and started to snore.

  Baras, Jyme, and Nix let go of the Vwynn's cooling body.

  "How could its own poison kill it?" Jyme asked.

  "It's not the poison that was transferred," Rakon said, gathering his things. "The poison had already done its work. The spell transferred death's grip on the spirit."

  "Gods," Jyme said, standing and backing away from the Vwynn.

  Baras cleared his throat, nodded at the Vwynn's body. "Let's get that carcass out of here."

  "I'll do it," Nix said, looking at Egil, at the Vwynn. "It's mine to do."

  Nix carried the Vwynn's body away from the camp and laid it gently, respectfully among the rocks. He covered it with a few stones, but didn't have the energy to do much more. He walked away without looking back.

  Once he returned to the camp, he planted himself around the fire, keeping watch over Egil. Baras and Jyme joined him. None of them spoke. They simply sat, content with the silent presence of the others. Nix feared nightmares should he slumber – perhaps of the sisters' making, or perhaps born of his own deeds – but the trials of the day soon overwhelmed him. He lost the fight and fell into slumber.

 

 

 
 

Nix awoke late, well after dawn. Everyone else remained asleep. He coughed, spit, and heated the kettle of coffee in the fire's embers.

  He spotted Rakon near the edge of the sea of glass. The sorcerer had somehow removed a few shards of glass from the edge of the sea and they lay stacked on the ground beside him. Nix walked over and nodded at the shards.

  "How'd you manage that?"

  Rakon only grunted for answer.

  "What were you looking for out on the glass last night?"

  Rakon looked at him over his shoulder. "Why do you think I was looking for something?"

  Now it was Nix's turn to grunt.

  Rakon cleared his throat. "I was looking for something that would help us get through the rest of our journey safely."

  "And? Did you find it?"

  Rakon gathered up the glass shards. "We'll soon see. Get me my bag, Nix."

  Nix hocked, spit, and chuckled. "I'm not your fakkin' eunuch. Get it yourself. Egil almost died because of you. Him and me are here only because of your compulsion. You and your sisters could all die tomorrow and I'd mourn you not at all. Don't ever forget how it is with us."

  Rakon stared at him, a faint smile on his lips. "I don't forget anything."

  "Good."

  Nix turned to walk away and found himself staring into the enormous chest of the eunuch. The man had walked up behind him as silently as a ghost.

  "Speaking of my eunuch," Rakon said.

  Nix stared into the face of the bald mound of flesh and sweat. "You're in my way, oaf."

  The eunuch just smiled his empty smile and stood his ground. He stank like something two days dead.

  "You hear me?"

  "Let him pass," Rakon said. "And fetch me my bag from the carriage."

  The eunuch stalked off, not so silent this time, and Nix walked back to the fire and filled his coffee cup. Egil soon awoke, sat up, and rubbed the back of his neck.

  "What happened?" the priest asked, and looked at his forearm, the bite already healed to a healthy pink. "The bite?"

  Nix glanced off in the direction of the ruins, to where he'd placed the sacrificed Vwynn's body. "The sorcerer healed you."

  "The sorcerer? How?"

  "Sorcery," Nix said. "How else? Coffee?"

  "Yeah," Egil said. He looked to Rakon. "I dislike owing that one a favor."

  "We owe him nothing. Not a damned thing." Nix handed Egil a cup of coffee. "And listen, no killing yourself without my permission henceforth, yeah?"

  "I wasn't killing myself," Egil said, and winced at the bitter taste of the coffee. "But you only had one stone. I knew I could hold off poison longer than Derg. And if I did die, well, I've had many good moments."

  "I'm interested in having a few more. Well enough?"

  Egil inclined his head. "Well enough."

  While the rest ate and broke camp, Rakon retreated off by himself and engaged in some ritual involving the shards he'd taken from the sea of glass. Nix didn't bother watching him. Of late, he'd had quite enough of sorcery.

  "Good to see you up," Egil said to Derg, as the young guard helped break camp.

  "And you," Derg said with a grin.

  When Rakon completed his ritual and returned to the campsite, he held a leather bag. Powder dusted his hands.

  "We must move on. Minnear will be full in two days. We have to reach the tomb of Abn Thuset before that."

  "Pardon, my lord," Jyme said, "but you didn't see how many of those things are out there. We saw them last night. There are thousands of them."

  "They won't trouble us," Rakon said.

  "And how's that?" asked Egil.

  "The Vwynn fear this place. They smell the magic."

  "Which is why they haven't attacked us," Nix said, nodding. "So?"

  "So this," Rakon said, holding up the leather bag he held. "This is dust made from the glass of this place. To the Vwynn, it will have the same magical stink as this location."

  "You're going to cover us in dust?" Baras asked.

  "I trust my armor more than magical dust," said Jyme.

  "You'll have to trust both," Rakon said. "We leave within the hour."

  "And if it rains?" Egil asked, eyeing the slate that roofed the sky.

  "Let's hope it doesn't," Rakon answered. "Maybe you could pray about it, priest."

  Egil ignored Rakon's insulting tone. "I think I will."

  "Divide up the supplies amongst the men, Baras," Rakon said. "We leave the carriage here. We'll be leaving the road to make straight for Afirion."

  "Yes, my lord," Baras said.

  After they'd loaded up, Rakon dusted all of them in the magical powder, even the horses. The dust felt slick on the skin, like talc, and it proved resistant to removal. Nix supposed that was a good thing.

  They set off, pale ghosts trekking through a dead land. Rakon rode a horse with Rusilla. The eunuch rode with Merelda. The rest of them walked.

  They emerged from the ring of ruins with blades and crossbows ready, but the Vwynn did not attack. Nix saw movement in the shadows of the ruins, reptilian eyes glaring out at them from the dark crannies and coves.

  "Night will tell the tale," Jyme said nervously.

  Throughout the day the Vwynn trailed them, circled at a distance, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, always hugging the shadows. Nix felt the creatures' eyes on him, an itch between his shoulder blades.

  The Vwynn called to each other from time to time: growls, howls, clicking, grunts. Nix feared they were arranging an ambush, but the Vwynn did nothing but follow and watch as the group moved through the ruined land, left the road behind, and struck out due east across the forlorn terrain of the Wastes.

  At nightfall, Rakon dusted everyone once more. They passed the night without an attack, troubled only by the guttural sounds that carried to them from time to time out of the darkness. Minnear rose, huge in the sky, nearly full, and in that baleful moonlight the Vwynn three times prowled sidelong up to the edge of the camp, their thin forms all scales, muscle, sinew and claws. But they ventured no closer and seemed more puzzled than aggressive.