A Girl and Her Monster (Rune Breaker) (16 page)

They did, and in that second, Taylin forced both swords up and out of the way with one arm. And with her good arm, she drove five black talons into his chest. Four punctured his lungs. Her thumb speared his heart.

The King of Flame and Steel grunted, groaned, and heaved pink froth up from his lungs. He was already dead, he just didn't comprehend it yet.

Taylin pushed to her feet and in doing so threw him down on his back, sheathing the still-burning Eastern Brand in its former wielder's body and three inches into the earth beneath him. Then, without another thought toward him, she turned and ran for the barn, which was still in flames.

***

Smoke and flame filled the large space of the barn just as much as the shouts of the fire crews and the screams of panicked animals.

As if by some sick joke, the human villagers were rushing about, trying to shoo out what little livestock they had, while the halfling guards assigned to the barn were left to try and pull the creche wagon to safety.

It was difficult going, as fallen spars from the roof littered the floor and fouled the wagon wheels. One of the guards already had a broken hand from where he rushed to clear debris from ahead of the wheels, only to have them roll over his hand in the process.

Broken hand or not, every member of the clan knew that their children were worth more than their own lives. It was the way of the
nir-lumos
. So he continued clearing, only with his good hand this time and a bit more cautiously than before.

Into this chaos charged Taylin. The death of the King of Flame and Steel had sated her rage, and this reflected in the fact that by the time she entered the barn, the scales and talons had once again receded. Her shoulder and arm still oozed blood though, and the smoke irritated those wounds as badly as it stung her eyes and lungs.

“Yarate! Yara!” She shouted as she made her way past mounds of burning hay and around scurrying villagers with pails of water and zero hope at containing the blaze. She didn't even recognize that she was no longer speaking a language anyone around her understood. The only thing on her mind was that she was
not
going to allow any of those children to suffer or die because she didn't finish with the King in time.

She reached the wagon and instantly saw the problem; even four
nir-lumos
working together to try and pull a wagon simply didn't have the leverage to get it over bumps as big as the fallen spars and farm implements at any reasonable speed and of the four guards, only two were actually pulling.

The ceiling groaned ominously above and she decided that now was not the time for politeness. Stepping into the traces, she simply reached down and lifted the pair trying to pull the wagon out of the way. This, of course invited them to hurl curses at her in their own language. One even drew his kurki before they both saw her reach down and loop the leads around both her wounded and good arms.

The moment they understood, the curses became encouragement and both men and the guard with the broken hand hurried around to the back in order to help by pushing.

The five combined got the creche wagon, with its precious cargo rolling at speed, thudding freely over the broken planks and tool handles on its way to the wide open doors of the barn. But before it got there, one of the main beams gave way, and the multi-ton timber came crashing down toward the wagon and its entourage.

The timber gave out with a groan, punctuated by pronounced cracks as it came crashing down from the roof, trailing a curtain of smoke and flame with it. Preceding it was a shower of cinders that stung the wagon guards wherever their skin was exposed. They did little more than make Taylin blink as a few fell in her face, or tumbled out of her hair.

But the collapsing beam would do more than sting or burn. It's weight could easily crush them, wagon and all.

As Taylin watched, trying to will herself to pull hard, faster, and get the wagon out of the way, she suddenly wished she hadn't left the Eastern Brand in the King of Flame and Steel's body. The wheel of flames it cast could probably have torn the falling wood asunder.

Something painful hit her an instant later, like a white hot lance that drove itself through both eardrums and into her brain. Only after it had passed did she realize it was sound; pure, intense sound at a pitch and volume she never wished to ever hear again.

And she wasn't the focus of the assault. The air above seemed to ripple in tune with the ear-splitting tone and to her amazement, so did the falling timber; for a split second at any rate. In the following second, it twisted impossibly and flew apart in an explosion of blazing embers. The sonic burst continued on, tearing apart another burning section of the roof in a similar fashion before finally dissipating.

Throughout, Taylin never stopped pulling, never focused on anything else, even as the pain in her head made her vision go blank. When she was finally in possession of her senses, she was nearly outside.

Ahead of her, she saw Kaiel, a red stain marring his right thigh and a line of dried blood on the side of his head. The flute was no longer blazing with the fell-light bow's flames, but at his lips as he'd just finished playing.

Only then did she make the connection and realize exactly what had happened in the barn: Kaiel had destroyed the timber with a pressure wave of pure sound. The battle-choirs of the hailene could perform similar feats with their voices, but Taylin had never been so near the receiving end before.

Breathing hard from what felt like hours of exertion, she continued on, hauling the wagon until she came up even with Kaiel. She had no excuse not to; her kind was bred to fight until literally torn apart. Her wounds were nothing compared to what she'd received over her lifetime. Something in her head still roared and demanded to wade back into the fray.

But something else told her that her part was over. The children were safe, the King was dead, and without a leader, or his nightmare vision, his army's resolve wouldn't last.

Maybe it was the highly inappropriate reassurance she got from sensing Ru's mood changing from raging blood lust to smug superiority. Maybe it was the fact that the sounds of battle moving farther away. Or maybe it was just that she'd lost more blood than she thought.

No matter the reason, she stopped fighting the urge to sit down. She did so simply by letting her legs fold up beneath her. There was a sharp bruising pain thereafter, probably banging her good arm on the wagon's dashboard. She leaned against it, half-listening to Kaiel's exclamation at her action, or his efforts to rouse her.

Then Grandmother was there. She told Kaiel something about how Grandfather needed him to look at the King's body and how she would see to 'the child'.

Had one of the children been injured? Was it her fault?

In Taylin's impaired state, it seemed as if Grandmother teleported much like Ru did; now standing by the wagon, now in the traces leaning over her. A small hand gently touched her nearly-flayed arm and the shuddering ecstasy of strong healing magic made her eyes roll back in her head. It was too much for her mind after everything else, and she was thankful that just before the world faded, she heard Grandmother order her to sleep.

***

She didn't remember waking up; that first moment of awareness after sleep. Instead, she found herself lying on her side, having a staring contest with an ancient gray tomcat.

That morning, she hadn't really taken time to look, but it struck her that with an apparently infinite repertoire of forms, Ru chose a particularly battle-damaged specimen for his preferred feline form. Its fur was streaked with light patches; old scars from dozens of fights over territory or mates, and one ear was notched in no less than five places. There was also a slight bald spot over one eye, a more severe scar, and that eye would have likely been rheumy if Ru kept with a perfect impersonation of the original animal.

Instead, the cat's eyes were the same yellow as his own; a yellow that could never be mistaken, even poetically for gold. They were the eyes of a wolf, or great hunting bird.

He didn't move at all, just stared and conveyed boredom and impatience on top of a searing ache.

Measure by measure, Taylin took in the rest of the scene. Ru was curled up in a nest of what seemed to be blood colored silk, atop some sort of wooden pedestal. She focused a bit more and realized it wasn't a pedestal, but a chest of drawers. Where did a chest come from? She'd only seen those in passing during raids, or when it was part of her job to move a hailene officer's personal effects from ship to shore.

The rest of the room slowly came into focus. From her vantage, she could see shelves built into the wooden walls behind the chest, and a door to one side of it. Directly in front of her, near her head, there was a low wooden footlocker with a pair of leather bound books, an ink pot, a nib of charcoal and a quill casually strewn on the lid.

Noticing the height of the chest made her realize that she wasn't on the floor. In fact, she lay atop probably the softest thing she'd ever lain on. The beds the masters kept, even the cots they kept in their offices and laboratories always looked so comfortable; could this be one of them?

I'm not certain if you've regained your senses or not when you ask questions like that.
Ru sent with the hint of a laugh at her expense.
'Is this bed I'm lying on a bed?'. Truly philosophical.

Ru?
She asked, not helping her case in the least.
You're hurt. Why can I feel it now when I couldn't feel when you were stabbed, or hurt by that 'rifle'?

Those hurts could be remedied by shapeshifting
. He replied.
But damaging magic can cause lasting damage to me, even if the link makes it impossible to completely destroy me.

But why does it still hurt?

The cat rolled his eyes.
It doesn't impair me, it only hurts. No need to waste energy on a healing spell.

But you're hurt.

And?

Please just heal yourself.

The cat growled a little and glared. That was all the indication she had that he was complying before the representation of ache in the back of her mind faded.

A moment later, the door opened and Kaiel stepped in. He wore a gray jacket with ivory buttons, which hung open, revealing that he was shirtless beneath. Several layers of bandages were wrapped around his midsection and several more were wrapped around his wrists. His trousers were the same as he wore that morning.

“Oh. You're awake.” He said with a tired smile. “Feeling better?”

Taylin instinctively took stock of her injuries. Nothing seemed to be bleeding anymore, though there was a bandage tied around her shoulder. The open gash on her arm was gone entirely. So she nodded.

“Good. Grandmother said that you might need more attention if you slept all the way until nightfall. There's really no telling how much blood you lost.” Kaiel walked past the best and drawers and Taylin followed him with her eyes to an area of the room she hadn't seen before; it held a table with a metal bowl and pitcher atop it and the bowls, cups and plates he'd brought out the night before underneath.

He took up a cup and filled it with water from the pitcher before passing it to her. “Drink. You're going to need to eat and drink a lot to get back what you lost today.” Taylin sat up in a wobbly fashion to accept it, and once she had her cup in hand, he repeated the process with another.

“So do I, actually.” He lifted his cup to offer a toast, something Taylin knew nothing about. After a second of awkward staring, he toasted himself and took a long drink anyway. “She wants to speak with you as soon as you're well enough to walk on your own.” his gaze flicked to Ru, then did a double take. “Is that...”

“Mine.” The cat said in a deep, cross voice that no small mammal should ever achieve. “Keep what you kill.”

“The adjudicators make sure everyone gets what they're earned.” Kaiel said, but his tone demonstrated that he realized the futility of discussing it with Ru. He turned back to Taylin. “I've already mentioned it to him, but you should probably know too.”

She still didn't feel like talking, so she merely nodded.

“That bandit king... after the battle, the adjudicators and corpse crews were reclaiming his armor and weapon; checking to see what else of value he had—which is now yours, by the by—and they found something...”

“Heh.” Ru resumed his normal form, winding up sitting cross-legged atop the chest of drawers. Somehow, in the process of shifting, he also donned the shirt. With his robes, Taylin couldn't tell, but with the silk draped over it, she could see that his frame was slight, almost emaciated. Idly, she wondered if that as a choice like the scarred cat or if it was his true appearance.

He didn't pick up on those thoughts, but the link echoed with his amusement at something, which he soon gave voice to. “As it turns out, you've brought shame upon generations of swordswomen. Imagine, coming that close to being bested by a hedge wizard like this so called King.”

Kaiel shot a disapproving glance at the mage. “There are any number of accomplished mystic sword schools. The College teaches several styles itself.”

“And this 'king' knew not a one.” Ru replied with a smirk. “You saw him when he fought Miss Taylin: all brute force and spell-worked speed. He was as much a swordsman as I am.”

The chronicler turned away from him and back to Taylin. “In any event, the real issue is the source of his power. When they pulled the Eastern Brand out of him, the adjudicators noticed a tattoo on his back; a nine pointed star atop a downward facing triangle with script in the ancient imperial language at the points. It's the symbol of a demon.”

“Immurai the Masked.” Ru interjected.

Kaiel nodded. “He's well known in the circles that actively oppose his master's worshipers: the Church of the Threefold Moon. And his mark is the way that he grants power to his followers. My guess is that the King's activities in this part of the world were on his behalf. It's entirely possible that this village wasn't just an example, but a sacrifice to Immurai.”