A Touch of Magic (27 page)

Sliding his arms under his rump and to the front of his body caused a sickening grinding sensation in Randall’s shoulder, and stabbing pains to travel up and down his arm. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and he was sure that he was going to pass out at any minute. Eventually he got his wrists in front of him and pulled the gag down from his mouth. He attacked the knots there with his teeth, loosening them enough to completely free his hands from the bonds.

After Randall had pulled the last of the rope from his wrists, he collapsed back down on the floor of the wagon, sucking in deep breaths. His shirt was drenched with sweat, and his entire arm screamed with throbbing, shooting pains. It took him several tries to calm his mind enough to draw power from Llandra. Once he did, he immediately pushed it down into the healing talisman, feeling for the resistance he had grown accustomed to fighting.

As Randall pushed, he felt the talisman grow cold, and his shoulder muscles began writhing like a fistful of worms. He cried out again as the shoulder set itself back into place with a popping sound, and the muscles and tendons began to knit. Declan was too preoccupied with driving the wagon to call back a second time.

After a few moments, Randall’s shoulder felt completely healed, and he felt refreshed and ready to take on the world. He quickly leaned over and untied his feet, and crab-walked to the back of the cart. Cracking the back flap to peek outside, he saw Brody and Tobsen riding quick on their heels.

But, they weren’t chasing Declan at all. They were running for their lives. Brody was actually quite close to the wagon, and steadily closing the gap. Tobsen lagged behind by a few dozen yards, whipping his horse desperately with a riding crop. Some distance behind the caravaners rode a dozen men on horseback. Dressed in rags and rough leather clothes, they looked rawboned and grimy. None of the men looked like they’d had a bath in a fortnight. One man had a crossbow slung across his saddle, and as he pulled up close, he lifted it and loosed a bolt at Tobsen which whizzed over his horse’s flank, missing by inches.

We’re being chased by bandits!
Randall realized, in a panic.

Chapter 14

Randall whirled around and stumbled toward the crossbow fastened to the caravan’s crossbeams. He frantically worked to unfasten the weapon as the caroming wagon slung him back and forth, nearly dropping him to his knees. Eventually he got the weapon unhooked from the rafters, and sat down to lever the bowstring into the cocked position. Putting his foot into the stirrup at the front of the crossbow, he grabbed he string with both hands and yanked it back into place.

At that moment he felt a lurch as something heavy slammed into the back of the wagon. He looked up just as the back flap of the wagon flipped open. Brody stood there, silhouetted by the sunlight from outside, holding onto the wagon frame for support. He must have had the same idea that Randall had, as his eyes immediately went to the spot where the crossbow had been secured moments earlier. He had no reason to suspect that his captive wasn’t still drugged and trussed up in the back of the wagon, and in his haste, he didn’t even give Randall a second glance from where he sat on the floor.

Randall knew that Brody would be impossible for him to defeat in combat with the elven dagger at his side. But if he could somehow regain possession of the dagger, he would also regain the combat advantage. Over the last few days, he had worked over the problem in his mind. He reflected on the few disarming moves that Master Erliand had taught him, but he knew that, realistically, there was no way he could get the dagger that way. Brody was an experienced fighting man, and even if he wasn’t aware of it, Randall’s dagger would amplify that ability so long as he had it in his possession.

Luckily, while Brody always carried the dagger at his hip, he never seemed to actually use it. Randall was sure that Brody didn’t even know what it really was. He figured that the man probably claimed it out of greed, and simply kept it on his hip as some kind of trophy. Since taking Brody in a fair fight was out of the question, his only other hope was to catch the caravaner off guard. He hadn’t really planned much beyond that point, since there were too many variables to consider.

Knowing he would probably never get a better chance, Randall threw himself toward Brody’s hips, grabbing at the elven dagger while Brody scanned the rafters overhead. Startled by the sudden action, Brody tried to twist away, but he had no room to maneuver, being caught between Randall on one side and open air behind him. As Randall fumbled to grab the dagger, Brody smashed his fist down in the middle of his back, driving him to his knees. Another blow came down on the back of his head, causing him to see stars.

Randall raised his arm to ward off the blows, and realized that his hand held the dagger! Turning his motion into an upward slice, he thrust the point of the dagger directly at Brody’s midsection, causing the older man to step backward in surprise. Except that there was nowhere to go in that direction! As Brody’s back leg stepped into empty space, his eyes widened and his arms pin-wheeled wildly as he tried to find something to hang on to. In the next instant, he tumbled backward out of the wagon, leaving Randall alone once again. It happened so suddenly that it took Randall a moment to realize that the fight was over before it ever really got started.

After a quick search of the cart’s interior, Randall found the crossbow quarrels and loaded one into the weapon. Stuffing the dagger into his boot, he pulled himself toward the front of the wagon and pointed the crossbow at the back of Declan’s neck. The caravaner was single-mindedly driving the horses as hard as he could across the rough terrain, and Randall had to shout to get his attention. Declan turned his head and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw that Randall was free and pointing a crossbow directly at him. He dropped the reins in his lap began to raise his hands in submission, causing Randall to shake his head furiously.

“Keep driving!” Randall yelled above the commotion. “I’m going to try to take a few of them out!”

Declan nodded, grabbing the reins and whipping the horse into further frenzy. Of the three caravaners, Randall was glad that man was the one driving the wagon. He always seemed to be the most practical of the bunch. Randall might have to trade blows with him later, but for now, against a common foe, he felt that he could count on Declan doing whatever was necessary to stay alive.

Back inside the wagon, Randall stumbled toward the rear entrance and peeked out the back flap. Neither Tobsen nor Brody were in sight, and there were only a half-dozen men still chasing the wagon. He imagined the other two caravaners were fighting knots of men back in the distance. He didn’t imagine he’d see them again; six against two were poor odds. Unfortunately, those were the same odds currently facing him and Declan.

Let’s see if I can even the numbers up some,
he thought grimly as he took aim at the closest bandit.

Randall tried to steady his crossbow for a good shot, but the constant shifting and lurching of the wagon continually threw him off balance. His first shot went wide, and he sat down to reload the crossbow as quickly as he could. Once he got the arrow in place, Randall decided to try a different approach. He rolled over onto his stomach on the floor of the wagon, to take his shots from a prone position. Soon after lying on his belly, a familiar weight landed on his shoulder.

Berry was completely visible and noticeably agitated. He clung to Randall’s shoulder, arching his back and chittering noisily at the oncoming bandits. His presence calmed Randall considerably, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth at his friend’s antics. He pulled the canvas flap aside and took aim at the closest rider.

Take out the horse,
he thought to himself as he steadied the crossbow, recalling Master Erliand’s lessons. All of his instincts screamed to shoot the at the bandit instead.

This time, the crossbow bolt flew true, striking the lead bandit’s horse full in the chest, and tumbling the rider to the ground. A fall like that could kill a man, or lead to broken bones. But even if he survived unscathed, the bandit would be a mile or more behind them in a matter of minutes, effectively taking him out of the fight. That left five to deal with.

Randall felt the now-familiar pulse as Berry drew magic from Llandra to unleash destruction upon the pursuing enemies. Randall quickly reached up to his shoulder to cover his friend’s mouth.

“Berry, no!” he shouted. “There are more of them to come! We need to save our strength!”

When he removed his hand from the donnan’s mouth, Berry chittered and squealed angrily in Randall’s ear, but thankfully he did not call forth the destructive power than Randall knew he was capable of.

Randall quickly rolled over onto his back to ready the crossbow for another bolt, causing Berry to leap off of his shoulder and to the side, still complaining loudly. Randall laughed at the donnan, fitting his foot into the crossbow’s stirrup and tugging on the string. After getting the crossbow ready and loading another projectile, he rolled back onto his belly to prepare for another shot while Berry scrambled back up onto his shoulder, still protesting angrily.

Randall looked out of the back of the wagon, seeking a new target. The remaining bandits had closed the gap even further, and were only a few yards behind the wagon. He only had time for one or two more shots before they would be upon him. One of the bandits carried a small hand crossbow and was aiming at the front of the wagon where Declan sat.

Randall chose the man with the crossbow as his next target and took aim at his horse, hoping to stop the bandit before he got his shot off. His aim was true, but instead of hitting the horse, the crossbow buried itself in the bandit’s thigh, six inches above the knee. The bandit screamed in pain but managed to stay in the saddle. In a moment, he was readying his crossbow again, aiming toward where Declan was sitting.

Randall quickly rolled over again to ready the crossbow for another shot. If the bandits managed to take Declan out, Randall would have to make a grab for the reins. There’d be no way that he could fight them and drive the cart at the same time. An instant later, driving the cart ceased to be a concern as their horse collapsed in front of the wagon, a crossbow quarrel sticking out of the side of its neck. Still travelling at full tilt, the wagon slammed into the horse, causing it to spin violently as the front of the wagon shattered. Randall was thrown forward with the impact, slamming into boxes, and plunged into oblivion.

* * *

It was impossible to determine how long Randall’s mind drifted in the blank nothingness of unconsciousness as there was nothing to measure the passage of time against. He felt no heartbeat or internal clock; there were no sights or sounds of any kind. There was only darkness. All of his aches and pains were gone. His struggles and adversities seemed a distant memory. All that remained was darkness, and peace.

After a time, he noticed a sharp chill at the edge of his awareness, invading his repose and disrupting his tranquility. The darkness in his mind was warm and comforting, however, and so Randall did his best to ignore the tiny irritation. The cold continued to grow stronger, however, bringing with it a light which drove the inviting darkness further from his consciousness. Soon the cold and light filled Randall’s mind, driving all of the darkness from his thoughts.

There was a sharp cracking sensation, and Randall instantly became aware of his body. Pain flooded in from all over, threatening to drive him back into insensibility. But the chill would not abate, and it drove the pain away as it had driven the darkness before it. Each finger and toe blazed up in searing agony, only to be squelched by the bitter, numbing cold seeping into his body. His arms and legs followed, and then his chest. Just when Randall felt he could take no more, there was a popping and cracking noise from his neck. A sharp pain followed the popping sensation, shooting down his spine and into his tailbone. It was this pain which finally shocked his eyes into flying open as he bolted upright, gasping for breath.

Randall could still feel the bitter cold radiating through him, chilling him to the bone. The freezing cold seemed to emanate most strongly from his chest.
The talisman!
He clumsily grabbed for the artifact, feeling his hand contact something small and leathery. Jerking his hand back in surprise, Randall’s eyes shot downward. Berry was hugging the talisman tightly and pouring power into it. Randall sat with his mouth agape as he felt the last of the energy trickle away and into the talisman. Berry must have sensed that he was hurt badly, and used the talisman to revive him. The donnan had saved him from certain death!

 A wave of affection for Berry washed over him, and his shoulders began to shake as he was overcome with emotion. Randall opened his mouth to express his gratitude, but Berry scrambled up his chest and put both of his little stick-fingered hands over Randall’s lips. Puzzled and amused by the creature’s behavior, he giggled uncontrollably, his emotions high-strung and raw from his recent ordeal. His giggling caused Berry’s eyes to widen fearfully, and he pressed his little hands even harder into Randall’s lips, bruising them against his teeth. Berry’s lips curled back, revealing his needle-sharp teeth, and he began making a quiet but insistent hissing sound. Realizing that Berry was truly alarmed, his amusement fled and he remembered where he was. There were still bandits nearby!

Once Randall got himself under control, Berry removed his hands from his lips and scampered to the side of the wagon. Berry tapped the side of his head next to his long, pointed ear, and then put his head against the wall. Understanding, Randall scooted as quietly as he could to the wall, and put his own ear against it, listening carefully. He could hear men talking some distance away, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Thankfully, they didn’t seem like they had taken note of his movements within the wagon.

Randall felt down in his boot, to make sure he had his dagger, but the weapon wasn’t there! It must have been dislodged and thrown about in the crash. He looked around desperately for it, scanning the inside of the wagon. There was no hope of finding the dagger, however, as the interior was in complete chaos. Randall noted that the wagon was now lying on its side, and his ear had actually been pressed against the wagon’s floor. All of the goods inside were haphazardly thrown about: boxes were smashed and curios and trinkets were scattered everywhere. A large section of the front of the wagon was smashed and broken, and one of Declan’s legs dangled awkwardly through the vehicle’s front flap. He wasn’t moving.

Randall heard hoof beats, causing him to tense up and listen more carefully. In a matter of moments, the horse and rider rode up to where the other men were talking. The rider dismounted, and all of the men moved closer to the wagon, continuing their conversation. If Randall strained, he could just barely make out what they were saying. Their voices grew more distinct as they moved closer.

“...took us by surprise,” one man was saying, coming into hearing distance in the middle of a sentence.

“Yeah, Matt,” said another voice, sounding frustrated. “We lost Rob and Perry. Sean’s leg is torn up pretty good, too. I hope it was worth it.”

“Me too,” a third man said. “They were supposed to just be merchants, according to the ferryman. There was supposed to be only three of ‘em. What about that guy that shot Sean? The kid.” Randall flinched, startled, as the speaker kicked his foot against the wagon’s floor, near where Randall’s ear was pressed against it.

“Dead. Broken neck,” the first voice answered. “Both of ‘em died when the wagon crashed. I checked ‘em myself. Killed the horse too.”