Chapter 48

Day 179:

On the twenty-sixth day that John woke up in chains, he finally followed the formation out into open air. They’d diverted off the Great Road that morning, using a much rougher-hewn ramp to the surface. His head barely cleared the tunnel roof to find a road running straight and true sloping across broken foothills and out into farmland-rich plains. Off in the distance, he could see a wide levee-bordered river formed by the joining of several runoff streams trickling down from the mountains he’d just exited. Extensive irrigation canals branched off into various fields, which were full of tall, green plants being tended to by poorly-clad farmers and elk-like draft animals. John’s eye could just make out a large fortress sitting on the river’s far bank. The road looked like it terminated at that structure, after crossing a wide stone bridge.

He looked around curiously, finding the last stationary Legion troops holding angled positions on each flank as the column marched northward down the flat, packed road. Another contingent held a boulder-fortified overlook above the cave opening. Outside that small perimeter and surrounding the Legion on both sides, in addition to flooding the mountain slope in all directions were hundreds of well-armed Powry and Dvergyr clan groups. Jeers and catcalls in the Dwarven language echoed across the hillside, but none of the obviously furious locals tried to prevent the departure.

All of the Dwarves guarding John were paying more attention to the crowd than himself. Nervous, inexperienced eyes glanced around at the opposing host rather than staying trained on their prisoner. Not only had he been placed in the very last Company, of the rearmost Square, but he walked with only a single rank behind him. The Dwarves of that row marched to either side so they could stay in step, since his stride was so much longer than theirs.

A calculating survey of the situation told him that this was likely the best opportunity he would get. He was getting weaker by the day. The food they fed him was barely enough to keep him from starving. He’d already lost several pounds of muscle mass. Plus, the farther into the plains he went, the easier it would be to track him down. Draft farm animals meant there were military units who rode said animals (or something very like them) for speed and/or shock-effect. The Orcs’ terrifying mounts came immediately to mind as an example.

It’s time! Return to me! He mentally shouted.

A guttural battle-cry sounded in his head. He stuck his hands up into the air, and after a few moments the Tooth’s haft slapped against his palm. He paused, braced his feet as far apart as they’d go, and buried the Tooth’s ax blade into the exact center of his iron shackles.

The whole time he’d been wearing the leg irons, he’d been preparing for this one chance. As soon as his weapons would return each night, up until his jailers demanded their surrender, he rested the Tooth’s wide ax head against the very middle link of his chain. Leaving it there, he’d instructed her to continuously chill that one iron oval to the coldest temperature she could reach. Day after day she did so, making that spot as brittle as glass. Dragging it across the ground all day warmed it back up, but he took the longest strides possible, stretching and cracking the cold-hardened metal.

The Tooth’s frost burn flashed gray on the dirty iron, and she cleaved right through both sides of that small, weakened section. Just as the Dwarves behind him realized what he’d done, and shouted a warning, he spun and dashed up the hill. Those closest soldiers he knocked sprawling, opening a path for escape. Curses and cries to return followed him, but he sprinted a beeline for the gap between the edge of the flanking formation and the small, rugged fort filled with Legion missile troops.

Hunching his shoulders and ducking his head, he kept his eye moving, checking for any Legionnaires who might cut him off. One arrow struck his shoulder with bruising force, and a second impacted his side, breaking a rib but failing to puncture his armor. His exceptional agility kept the shots from knocking him down. Another advantage that he had, as the rear ranks chugged after him, was that his armor was lighter, and his steps longer than his pursuers’. Plus, the flanking formation was filled with highly disciplined soldiers. None of them broke ranks to intercept, leaving that task to those few charged with watching him.

He shot out of the gap and angled between two Legion-opposing clan groups. Both of the clusters, Dvergyr all cheered him on mightily. Then those cheers turned to attack cries as the Dwarves on his tail, strung out in a long line pointing down the slope presented an irresistible target for the already-murderous warriors. In an uncoordinated pincer, each side ran to cut down the hated Legionnaires, blocking John’s pursuit.

Pausing for a moment, he called up his armor’s strength and pulled his arms apart until the cuffs deformed and broke. Iron shards littered the dirt around him while he stowed the Tooth in her usual spot. Sounds of fighting and unknown horn blasts reached his ears, but he set his sights on a draw that looked promising and ran for freedom.

Dwarven cries of, “Fey! Fey! Fey!” crisscrossed the hillside at his back, but none of the clans approached or waved him to their ranks.

They didn’t move to stop him either, so he’d take it.

Long before he reached his destination, the sounds of battle died away. Curious, right before he turned into the mountain’s cut, John paused to take a look back and saw something which shook him to his core. As he watched, the last of the Legionnaires formed up on the road behind the Tenth Square, and marched away. None of the still yelling Dwarves gathered to watch made a move, which John later figured had been a mistake.

His drill instructors in Basic Training hammered them continuously with: “Standing out in the open is a great way to get artillery dropped on your head.”

As though to prove their point, a ten-foot-wide bolt of lightning flashed into existence over the Legion’s heads. John couldn’t tell from his distance, but given where it seemed to originate he assumed it was the Mage King’s power. What he could unfortunately observe clearly was the nearer end. A blinding, ionizing discharge touched down among the single largest grouping of Dwarves. When it did, a massive shockwave of superheated rock blasted dirt and dust into the air, alongside charred and shredded Dwarf bodies. The terminus didn’t remain stationary either, it swept across other clans, drawing a deep, ragged furrow in the mountainside and obliterating everything in its path.

“Holy mother of God!” John exclaimed.

There wasn’t a damned thing he could do about something that powerful. He turned tail and ran for his life.

Day 173:

It took another four days before Svend steered their ship into the shallow water near the island Veronyka indicated. A cluster of well-worn boats was anchored together just outside a reef protecting the wide beach where they could see a large cluster of refugees struggling with a smaller, but better-armed crew of Raiders. As they rounded the miniature flotilla, the group found two more ships nearly beached against a gravel-covered slope at the island’s far end.

Spooky, Numb, Sygraid, Veronyka and Svend conducted a hurried council of war on the poop deck as the Explorer steered for the lone boat pair.

“We have to help them!” Veronyka demanded.

Svend held up a hand. “We will, but we must be cautious until we know what has happened.”

“What happened?” Veronyka parroted. “They’re being attacked by two ships’ worth of Raiders!”

“Perhaps,” Svend acknowledged, “but it may be that some wish to leave, and your friend won’t let them. Many a man’s been seduced by power over those in need.”

Veronyka threw up her hands in frustration, meeting Spooky’s eyes with her begging gaze.

He shook his head to her. “We go in quiet. But I don’t see anyone guarding those ships. If we go ashore between them and the crews, we’ll be in a good position.”

Nodding heads turned to their navigator.

“Agreed.” He said.

Sygraid’s look collected the two SpecOps men and dragged them to the deck near the bow. She shouted for those who wanted to go help to come to her there. Hal and Vasin, joined by all the Watchmen and one of the former slaves made a circle around her. Treb climbed down from the rigging and sat on a main-mast crossbar to listen.

“A group of Raiders appears to be in combat with our friends and families.” She announced. “We will go ashore together, and help where we may. Those who wish to accompany me must agree to one leader. We will fight, if need be as one group. Do you agree to my authority, in this?”

One of the Watchmen glanced around then stepped forward. “We’ll support you, Sygraid. You’ve been our champion thus far.”

Sygraid nodded. “Thank you, Koll. Will you join me in the front rank?”

The Watchman saluted smartly. “I’ll be there.”

Despite the low number of people who survived the Challenge, it turned out that only a pair of the Raiders, one former slave, and three Watchmen had done the hardest Task. The remainder wisely chose the middle-difficulty one; coming away with a plethora of enchanted weapons or armor. Of those with Evolutions, only one Raider and Koll had taken the Fighter one, and it looked like none of the Raiders were willing to accept her command right now. The other Raider and one of the Watchmen (named Aevar) had taken Explorer Evolutions, while the former slave and the last Watchman (named Vighus) had taken Rogue. Unfortunately, the one slave who joined them wasn’t the Explorer.

“Spuki, you and Hal will run ahead, as quickly as you can and ensure we are not surprised. Be ready to attack from the side if we must engage.” Sygraid ordered. “Vighus, you and Aevar guard our rear. Who knows how many are here that we cannot see?”

Her four instructees nodded.

“Sounds good.” Spooky said.

“All others, arm and gird yourselves. You stand with me. Noom, you and Koll will make our front rank with me.” Sygraid finished.

Numb and Koll shared a grim look.

She looked up at her son. “Stay behind the fighters, and use your power to aid us.”

Treb broke out a grin. “I will!”

The rest of the crew reefed the sails, and stationed themselves to drop anchor the instant their keel touched the seabed. Veronyka leaped up onto the bowsprit while the rest clustered at the rail closest to where they’d seen the people fighting.

When they closed on the beach, a sharp cracking sound alerted the two from Earth that Veronyka wasn’t going to be sensible about things.

“Oh, shit!” Numb cursed, when he saw Veronyka appear on the beach while they were still over fifty yards out.

Spooky didn’t bother with useless talk. He dove headfirst over the rail, angling toward the reef. Surfacing with powerful strokes, the dark-skinned man swam hard to make an intercept.

“Hold!” Sygraid ordered loudly, when Aevar made to follow. “We stay with our plan. She is on her own now.”

A murmur of agreement followed weapon adjustment. Only a few moments more and they felt the rough ground below rub across their hull.

“Go! Now go!” Sygraid urged, leading the way into the knee-high surf.

They formed up at a jog, feet crunching on the loose stones. Showing surprising agility, Hal’s vague shape ran up to the firmer, vegetation-packed ground inland before skirting the tree line to get ahead.

Spooky’s unmissable form caught Veronyka’s peripheral vision as she ran toward the chaotic group. Though he was going to come ashore ahead of Sygraid and the rest, he would still be a few yards behind her. She disregarded him, zooming in to get a better look at the people she needed to help.

Most of the suntanned, well-armed Raider men were in a single group. Their leader had a woman in a headlock from behind, holding her against his chest while he tapped her throat with the large knife in his other hand. The other Raiders formed a half-circle to his rear, some with young women in hand, while other female captives were already lying, tied up on the sand inside the perimeter. Facing their leader was Ellis, of course. His lips moved calmly, though Veronyka couldn’t hear him, but his eyes promised murder. On the Sergeant Major’s side were an outnumbered group of elderly Raiders and armed women who looked thunderous, but reluctant to engage.

Someone must have looked at her, because the Raider leader turned partially, giving her an evaluative look. In doing so, he gave Veronyka her first good look at his captive. It was Runa! The woman clutched his arm desperately, still struggling. Blood drained from her nose, and a split in her bottom lip.

Veronyka hadn’t had a real fight in a long time, but she’d stayed in good shape, and sparred with whoever she could get. Brunhyldar hadn’t stinted on their training while they waited for John to show up. Veronyka slipped her Spike free and extended both it and her Reflector. Stepping into a spear-thrust once she judged herself to be close enough, the Mentalist Stepped across forty yards of beach.

One extra ‘trick’ she’d managed to perfect since her fight with Sangrydr was adding mental ‘weight’ to her swings using the telekinesis coils in her gauntlets. With an ear-splitting boom, she appeared a step away from the Raider leader. Her Spike was already moving, angled up to miss Runa and perforate her target’s chest like a large-caliber bullet. The man was already swinging for her throat when her momentum and discharge made him shudder, falling limply away. His weight dragged at Runa, but she spun out then ran to Ellis.

The other Raider men stared at her in shock, which gave her time to Step the few yards to another man, halfway down the line who she judged to be the largest one in his group. Again she came out within her reach, Spike angling for his throat. He was faster than she expected, shoving his captive into her way and spinning aside. This was where her extra force came in handy. Though her foe was quick, she was too close. As the captive collided with her, the tip of her Spike caught the man’s ear and hung just enough for her weapon to punch into the skull behind. He too went down in a heap.

The next man in line watched his comrade fall with a furious expression. This one didn’t have a prisoner. He did have an ugly spiked mace, made in the shape of a dragon’s claw curled into a fist, the points bristling from every knuckle, and a wide-bladed short sword. Those he swung with an inarticulate cry into her face. She intercepted those attacks, the mace with her Reflector and the blade with her Spike. Eye-watering pain flashed thorough her left wrist and her spear was knocked from her grip. The man was an experienced brawler, he didn’t pause. Reading her weakness, the sole of his boot slammed into her stomach. Doubling over, she heaved and tried to scramble back. She’d kept her Reflector up as a barrier, and his second mace strike undoubtedly broke her wrist if the first one hadn’t. Her hand felt like she imagined a foot would feel if it was run over by a truck. The rest of the Raiders shouted taunts and encouragement to her foe.

Then the cannonball that was Sygraid bulldozed into the line at the other end. White frost coated her spear, and her shield face. A single thrust with her weapon shish-kabobbed two Raiders, while her shield impacted two others. The second pair were thrown ten feet across the sand, a tangled mix of arms, legs and sand. Koll and Numb buzz-sawed through two apiece, while the rest of the Watchmen fell into a rank beside the Raider butchering trio.

Raider war-cries rang out as the men swung into action. They mobbed the small squad and the battle was joined. Treb was completely protected, standing to his mother’s rear as he ‘buffed’ the Watchmen and used his staff to root various Raiders in place. Even Hal was there, a hard-to-see blur that flashed a streak of metal into the Raider flank. For her part, Veronyka’s tormenter hammered her arm a third time, shattering her elbow before he stepped back.

“Mine!” He sneered, pointing his sword at her. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

With that, he spun to join his friends.

“Hell no!” Veronyka grimaced.

She’d been extremely reluctant to use Unseen Shadow as an offensive weapon. Its description of the awful curse imparted on a hit had chilled her to the core. Now, her blood was pumping and her arm was on fire. She snatched it from the sheath on her back and rolled to her feet unsteadily. As her vision narrowed, she staggered behind her enemy. Keeping focus through force of will, she stayed up and got close enough to strike.

It wasn’t extra-weighted like the others; her mind wasn’t up to that. But it was enough to cut a line across the back of his neck. A fur-lined collar caught most of the blade, but the tip sliced a streak behind his carotid. The man barely seemed to feel the blow, but he glanced around with an annoyed expression. His peripheral vision snagged on her jumping back and he turned to give a glare.

Taking in her left arm dangling limply and her odd blade, the Raider laughed. “Get back over there, slave!” He pointed at where she’d been laying, with his blade. “If you don’t, I’ll break your other arm. And a leg for good measure!”

He waved the mace threateningly, but she wasn’t really listening. A black-streaked ugly patch was growing on the side of his neck. In seconds it covered from his clavicle to his ear.

“Wha—what? Did you do?” He barked, body swaying.

Both weapons hit the sand as both hands went to cover the affected area, and came away with a clump of skin. Blood poured from the massive wound, as he looked from the flesh in his palms to her hate-filled eyes.

“This!” She growled, stabbing Shadow at his throat.

He saw it coming, of course. She was far enough away, but he’d forgotten that his hands were empty. Shadow tore a hole in one hand, severing a finger, and cutting through the other glove to find the appendage beneath. Viciously, she swung wide as she withdrew, slicing deeper into his second hand. An expression of horror came over him as both arms withered to the elbow before his eyes. Her third strike he never saw coming. This time she got his windpipe, opening a hole as her sword punched into his spine. Blood, hot and coppery covered her hand as she ripped across the rest of his neck.

A shout tore her attention from the dying man.

“Veronyka!” Spooky yelled again, standing a few yards away.

She spun, eyes searching for threats. Shadow’s tip wove a curve through the air.

“Whoa! It’s me!” Spooky held his own dagger-filled hands up.

“C—Spooky! Hey!” She stepped closer, turning to keep the bulk of the diminishing Raider force to her front.

Ellis and his allies had joined the fray, a hammer to Sygraid’s anvil. Caught between two groups, the Raiders were attempting to fight in both directions and doing neither very well. Men were falling: dead, dying or grievously wounded, and those closest to the water began fleeing towards their boats. Out across the sand, the last two Watchmen were intercepting those running, like a pair of safeties in football. They’d grabbed spears before following Sygraid onto the island, and were stabbing those who refused to surrender.

“Veronyka!” Spooky grabbed her attention again.

“Yeah?” She asked, wearily.

“Put that thing away.” He ordered, nodding at her blade. “And get over to Vasin.”

Her eyes struggled to follow where he pointed with his dagger. The healer had circled around and set up a triage station between the attacking Watchmen and the refugees. He waved over any wounded who could walk, and a few children helped those who found moving difficult under their own power.

“I’ll live.” Veronyka protested. “I can go when we’re done.”

Spooky’s arm swung up in front of her.

“You’re done.” His voice brooked no argument. “We’ve won this fight already, and you’re not fighting with us effectively. Go. And think on this: how do you intend to rebuild our trust in you?”

“What?” She spun on him.

Cold, unflinching eyes met her flashing gaze. “You heard me.” His voice held no emotion. “Go. Get. Help. Now.”

Heart sinking, she turned and trudged away. She at least had the presence of mind to grab her Spike on the way over to Vasin.

Numb and Spooky found her that evening, sitting out on a knoll with her back to the refugee campfires. There’d been more serious wounds than hers, and the Islander had taken Numb’s lessons on triage to heart. By the time the healer made his way to her, with longer breaks for recovery between sessions, she’d gotten into a pretty good funk. She gave Vasin a wan smile in thanks when he’d finished, then wandered off to think.

The men dropped to a seat, book-ending her. Nothing was said for a few minutes, though her sniffles betrayed that she’d been crying.

“If you want to roll with the big dogs, you gotta understand the rules.” Numb began.

“You think I don’t?” She sobbed.

“We think you’ve been on your own for too long.” Spooky supposed.

“You have a tendency to do things however you want, and the rest of us be damned.” Numb added.

“I’m not a soldier.” Veronyka protested. “Even the Valkyrie don’t really fight as a unit. Individually, they’re really, really good. And have discipline, yeah. But I’ve never been in any kind of group like the one you guys were.”

“Maybe not.” Numb agreed. “But right now, we can’t afford to be worrying about what you’ll do on top of all the other shit we’re dealing with. This situation sucks. You know it, and so do we. If you want to go your own way, you need to do that now. Go look for John, figure out where he is and help him get back with us. We’ve got no problem with that, if it’s your choice. But listen up, because this is the only time I’ll warn you verbally. If you stay with us, you’re not in charge. Not at all. We don’t have to do what you say; in fact, you have to be willing to do what you’re told by whoever we do put up. It might be Ellis, or Spooky. Hell, it might be Sygraid for all you know. Whoever it is, you gotta step up and get in line with the rest of us.”

“Okay.” She whispered.

“Do you think we don’t disagree, sometimes?” Spooky asked quietly.

“I don’t know, do you?” She retorted, weeping openly now.

“Happens all the time.” Numb picked up. “People see things differently. Nothing wrong with that. But once you join a unit, you gotta understand that your opinion isn’t always the most important one. Take today for example. If we were fighting with rifles on Earth, me or Spooky would’ve been in charge. And no way would we have attacked like we did. It would’ve been suicide. But we ain’t on Earth anymore, are we? So, Sygraid gets a vote in line with her level of contribution. If she wants to lead, we pretty much have to let her.”

“Because she’s the biggest? How’s that fair?” She snorted.

“Fair?” Spooky snorted back at her. “Fair has nothing to do with it. Nothing fair about combat, girl. What matters is this: can you win? How many can you defeat? How can you help the group overcome adversity? Fair gets left back with justice and equality. We’re not here to be fair, or just, or equal. We’re in a fight for survival, and I for one will do everything I can to win that fight. If you aren’t here for the same reason, I think you’d better go.”

“Spooky!” Numb hissed.

“What? We haven’t got time for this shit.” Spooky retorted.

Numb didn’t back down. “You’re not helping. Let me deal with this. In fact, if you can pry him free, could you send Top over?”

Spooky stared back for a moment, then got to his feet.

“Get your shit together.” He spat, and walked away.

Veronyka burst out sobbing.

Numb put his hand on her shoulder.

“He’s a pain in the ass, I know.” He offered.

“He’s right, you know.” She hiccupped. “I’m not a team player. Never have been.”

“Can you work with us? Please?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly.

“Well, that’s gotta be the basis for whatever comes next.” He said reasonably. “You have to decide what you can put up with. Do we need you? Hell yeah, doc! If you’re not with us, this gets a thousand times harder. But if you’re here, and not really part of us, you’re worse than gone. Because we have to cover whatever off-the-wall shit you pull on top of looking out for ourselves.”

“Okay.” She whispered.

“Okay, what?” He asked, after a minute.

“Okay, I understand. I won’t be a burden. I promise.” She rasped, tears still falling.

“Ben! Veronyka?” Ellis’s voice floated over the surf crashing.

Numb looked back. The other man was about halfway to them, but couldn’t see over the rise to where they sat.

Patting her shoulder, Numb stood up. “Let me go grab him. I’ll be right back.”

“Ben?” She looked up at him. “I’m on your side, I promise. Okay?”

“I know.” He assured her. “Just a sec.”

“Over here!” Numb called, waving and striding toward Ellis.

“What’s up?” Ellis asked, when they met in the middle.

“Doc V sorta fucked up today.” Numb explained. “Went rogue on us. Spooky’s pissed, and though I haven’t talked to her, I think Sygraid isn’t happy either. So, I’m trying to explain the facts of life to her. Spooky’s too harsh. Could you give me a hand?”

“Of course.” Ellis nodded. “Where’s she at?”

Numb led him back over the rise. Three small white ovals sat on the ground where Ben had been sitting. Of Veronyka there was no sign.

“Fuck!” Numb cursed.

“Damn.” Ellis seconded.

Day 180:

John killed a pair of Legion scouts that first night he was free. The lightly armored Powry who tried to sneak up on him were skilled trackers, and reasonably quiet to boot. Without a moon the nights were dark, so the pair must have marked him before the sun disappeared. Unfortunately, his ultra-sensitive hearing combined with his Sight made their advance unmistakable. He spun up from behind the boulder he was using for cover, a half-step before they began their rush.

They had decent night vision. Both jumped aside, splitting apart and trying to force him into a defensive role. But he was already swinging. Both Cleaver and the Tooth buried themselves into one Dwarf’s chest. Cold-fire flashed, prompting a gurgling scream. Leaving his weapons in place as a lever, John turned, swinging the scout’s dying body in between himself and the other one. The two Dwarves collided, with what sounded to John like a third stab going into his meat shield’s back.

Yelling a growling, wordless cry of rage, John pushed forward. He used the body as a battering ram, knocking the second scout onto his back. Wrenching both blades from their wounds, he alternated strikes on the downed Dwarf. The Tooth nearly severed the one arm that his foe held up as a shield. A follow-on thrust with Cleaver punched through the scout’s throat, forcing a wet choking gasp. One more hit from the Tooth split his enemy’s skull open, right over his ear.

Three different hisses of satisfaction sounded in his head. Vafthundryr and the Tooth shared a congratulatory approval for his victory.

You fight well, Fey Nord. An unfamiliar voice commented.

The other two went silent.

Who are you? He asked silently.

My name was once Duin. The voice said proudly. I led my people against the great beast-headed tyrant who sought our destruction. The Prince of Darkness was an abomination who deserved whatever fate the evil dragons subjected him to.

“My boots?” John whispered aloud.

He quickly set to searching his kills, and backtracking their trail to find any supplies. Two new knives went into said boots, and he collected two small wallets worth of an unknown currency.

And then got stuck into a pair of boots, yes. Duin agreed. Your foolish attempt to avert the ambush led me to believe you were not long for this world, even acknowledging your success at the kin-stealer dragon’s Tasks.

He’s finished three dragons. The Tooth said proudly.

And beds a Valkyrie. Vafthundryr added with a leering tone.

The War-Maidens are real? Duin asked skeptically.

Real? Vafthundryr replied. Let me tell you of their beauty, and fierceness in ... battle.

Later. John broke in. I’m trying to find these guys’ camp.

Duin sniffed. Up, and to your left. Their camp lies there.

Sure enough, John found a small depression just over a small rise after following Duin’s directions. Two well-used but sturdy packs were cached there, with plenty of rations and bedrolls. The Dwarves had been disciplined, avoiding a campfire and camouflaging the site from view. He stuffed all the food into one pack, and huddled against it until the morning.

After the sky lightened, he ate a cold, silent breakfast before setting out. He didn’t really have a good idea what direction to go, but so long as he kept to the mountains and headed away from the lower altitudes to the north, he figured he’d be harder to track down. All strangers, which included every Dwarf for hundreds of miles were suspect. He avoided contact with anyone, either by going a different way when he spotted somebody, or by hiding until they passed by.