Dusk Falling (Book 1) (7 page)

Serrtin heaved the grain off her shoulder and sat it on the ground. Taking the foodstuffs, she placed them with another small bag that contained the edibles purchased from the Market in Barda. All the supplies went into the duffel except for the rope which she used to tie the satchel and the grain bag behind the saddle. After making doubly sure the items were secure, the Yarcka adjusted her flamberge. No longer feeling weighted down, her spirits lifted at the thought of a possible fight and that they may just out-do their own record for fastest retrieval.

“Ready?” Serrtin asked the team. Aya and Agemeer nodded in unison. “Then let’s go. We’ll follow the Azure Ribbon into the Pass. This’ll be much better than staying at some Inn.” Aya doubted that last part.

“I can scout ahead. Just to be safe. If I see anything I will run back.” Agemeer suggested.

“Good idea. But be careful. We as a team have never taken on a Triple Sign. You can never be sure of what the Chase may do. Keep your wits about you.”

“And Agemeer,” Aya said, bending to look the Wulf in the eye. “If you do see anything, or hear anything, or even think you feel anything, please come back for us, okay?”

“Not a problem, Aya dear.” The old Wulf gave his companions a last look before racing off into the woods. His keen nose would keep him near the inlet and, should the need arise, make it much easier to find his companions. Agemeer let the Wulf’s senses take control as he ran swiftly through the untrekked terrain.

When his gray tail disappeared from sight, Aya stood and took hold of Trinket’s reins. At a much slower pace, the two began to follow.

As Serrtin had specified, she would always lead the main party for if they should ever happen upon an enemy, she did not want the small mage to be the first target they laid eyes on. Serrtin, with all her battle experience, could react the fastest plus the towering saurian always had the element of surprise on her side for few would expect a Yarcka to suddenly appear in their midst. Any pause an enemy gave would be one less moment she would give them to live.

Aya followed ten paces behind with Trinket in tow on a long lead. The bay followed obediently, well used to traveling as such in shaded forests. Unfortunately, teaching a horse to step quietly was beyond Aya, even with her mage training- which goaded the girl into remembering that if she had remained in Bren, that she would have learned the spell for Silent Walking.

Serrtin and Aya continued on through the forest as it gradually became darker as the trees began to grow denser. A thick ropey moss became prevalent, looping around boughs and connecting branches till the treetops looked like a giant spiderweb. The floor ceased being soft and spongy the further they got from the inlet. Grass grew in sparse patches and a thin long-leaved plant seemed to usurp all the ground within three feet of a tree. Not stepping on them was impossible.

Serrtin did not like the little plants nor did she like the proximity of the trees. It did not make for good battleground. All she could think to be thankful for was that the close-knit surroundings would hinder a would-be attacker as much as herself. And no plant matter would hinder her sword for long.

She took it as an ill sign that there were no birds, no singing or squawking in the heights above them. No rabbits or small rodents scurried under the brush, darting into sight only momentarily before again seeking out the sanctuary of the shadows. A forest such as the one they traveled should have been teeming with life. Serrtin glanced briefly back to see if Aya had drawn the same conclusions but the young mage appeared lost in thought. Taking that as a sign of some sort of mage-work she didn’t understand, Serrtin turned back to surveying the terrain ahead of them.

The path they forged did not reveal any clues that pointed to recent passage. There were no footprints or broken low-growing branches. They passed a gurgling brook, pausing briefly to let Trinket take advantage of the cool clean water. Heading past, Serrtin was pleased to see the trees give way, thinning to reveal grassy turf lit by patches of sun. Small round-petaled flowers sprouted in the middle of the clover that laced the tree roots. Some of the saurian’s tension bled off into the sweet-smelling air, still she remained alert.

“Aya, Agemeer.” Serrtin called back as she spied the large gray Wulf making his way toward them. Head low, he made no effort to hide his presence.

Agemeer trotted up to Serrtin, tail down and eyes wary. “I’m glad I found you. I don’t know if I am simply being foolish but… I sense something
notright
about the forest here.”

“Did you see anything?”

“No but that’s just it.” Agemeer reported, looking up at Aya as she approached. “There
is
nothing. There’s no one here I can detect yet… I feel like there is. Someone or something. I cannot explain. It’s just a feeling I have, or should I say, the Wulf has.”

Anxiously, they all glanced about, the woods beginning to feel all the more constraining. To them, almost instantly after Agemeer gave forth his thoughts, unseen eyes seemed to lurk in the smallest of shadows and those shadows rapidly seemed to be closing in. Agemeer’s hackles rose in apprehension. Aya turned a full circle, looking for their unseen threat, she and the Yarcka both now feeling that which Agemeer had warned of. She knew they were being watched, stalked, but by who or what she couldn’t tell. Despite the growing fear that wheedled its way into her chest, Aya’s mind began to formulate a defensive spell. Serrtin’s giant flamberge was in her hands and ready but for what she had no idea.

When it came, the attack was from all sides and with no warning. Figures dressed in dark gray cloaks poured out of nowhere, faces wrapped under their hoods. Each of them brandished thick-bladed swords and wasted little time in putting them to use.

Purely out of instinct, Aya threw up a shield. Just in time as an arrow, aimed for her heart, slammed into the magical defense and burst into a hundred pieces. The barrier glowed green at the center of the impact then rippled out as it distributed the force, absorbing the impact then displacing the energies back into the air.

In the time it took for Aya to flinch back, the bowman was dead- carved nearly in half along with his weapon by Serrtin’s flamberge as she charged forward with a snarl. To a warrior such as she, the foremost step in a ground battle was to eliminate any and all enemies utilizing projectile weaponry for archers could easily decimate a band’s ranks from a safe distance. And that step also included taking the opposing mages out of the situation quickly and fully. Hence the initial attack on Aya.

After taking care of the lone bowman, Serrtin pivoted, drawing her blade back and coming around to slash the one who would have attacked her from behind. He managed to get his own sword up in time but the power behind the Yarcka’s blow tossed him into the trunk of a tree like a ragdoll. He lay still and did not rise.

Serrtin’s next attacker sought to take the advantage of her inability to bring around her heavy weapon quick enough to block his overhead strike. She proved that even without the immediate use of her sword, a Yarcka could be deadly as she drove the large clawspike on her right elbow through his skull. The attacker’s body careened into that of one of his fellows.

Given a moment of reprieve- slight as it was- Serrtin looked around for her companions.

The marauding party had been taken off stride by the small team’s readiness and reactivity. They had thought a quick and concise victory had been assured even before the attack began. Losing so many so quickly only served to enrage those left to fight.

Aya lost her grip on her mare’s reins as the mare bolted wild-eyed but the young mage had no time to worry as a dark-cloaked man, eyes blazing, rushed her head long with sword raised.

Aya had never liked killing nor did she condone it but she was not naïve. She knew it happened everyday in Demaria- people killed people, monsters killed people, people killed monsters. It was an ugly fact she lived with and she entertained no fantasies that she would ever change that. No one could. Not Elves or Larren or Youkai or anyone else. Perhaps it was her own moral consciousness that kept her from using the deadly spells that she harbored in the
far planes of her mind. She knew the spells though she had never used them. Aya had promised herself in her ancestors’ Name that she would only use them in the most dire of circumstances.

So, as her attackers sword bounced harmlessly off her shield- appearing to him as if it had bounced off her outstretched hand- Aya drew in her energies and focused them into her other fist. When her hand began to grow numb from chill, she dropped her shield and made a throwing gesture across her form. She could feel the energy build and release, then the cold wind backlash as her ice spell hit the man square in the chest, launching him off his feet and knocking him onto his back with such force as to knock the air from his lungs. The concussion that kept him from rising would not kill. In a left to right slice pattern across his torso was a thick layer of ice, evaporating into mist in the warm air.

The mage turned at the yell of another impending attack. She couldn’t afford the cost of energy to use a shield to protect herself while she prepared a counterattack of her own. Two spells at once was a difficult task to endure but not impossible. Since her attack spell was water in element and the shield spell air it was a feasible, if draining, undertaking.

Aya began to gather up her strength to re-cast her ice spell.

As the man bore down upon her and her hand was barely beginning to chill she knew she did not have enough time to adequately prepare. Blade poised to strike her down, Aya could hear him chuckle from behind the cloth wrap around his face.

In a flash of gray fur, he was gone. Agemeer bore the man to the ground, sword arm held in his vice-like maw. The Wulf growled and tore at his arm until he dropped the weapon. Despite the man’s trashing and pummeling with his balled fist, Agemeer would not relinquish his grip nor could the man break it.

The next cloaked attacker took her spell much the same as the last, fell and remained down. But there were too many. And no longer did they attack one at a time.

Aya dodged to the left as a blade came whizzing by and then back as another took its place. Tripping on her own feet as she sought to get out of the way of his wild swinging, Aya fell sprawling. Instinct told her to roll to one side. Just in time as a blade clove into the ground where her head had been, embedding deep. She looked up. And then past the cloaked man as something caught her eye.

A figure dressed in unconventional pristine white. In the tree high above. He stood almost casually with one hand on the trees trunk. He surveyed the battle calmly with eyes that were unmistakably-

Aya rolled to her feet as the attacker sought to pin her to the ground with a straight downward thrust. As his blade bit into the hard-packed soil and he sought to dislodge it, Serrtin barreled into him, shoulder first. There was an audible snapping sound and the man cried out as he sailed flying into the greenery. Coming up weaponless and without the use of one of his arms kept him from rejoining the fray but he remained wary, his dark eyes ready to exploit any opportunity no matter the painful injury. One of his fellows reached his side surrounded by two others, one clutching gingerly at a leg that could not support his full weight.

Serrtin glanced over at Aya to ascertain the mage’s condition. Dirty and a bit scraggled but no worse for wear, the Bren wore a pinched expression of alertness. Agemeer joined them, a snarl coming from deep within his throat. A light wound was evident on one of his forefeet, the crimson blood standing out starkly against his fur.

Five more joined the dark cloaked men in the process of regrouping for the next round. A quick survey proved that was the last of them, their companions were scattered around the clearing unconscious or worse. Eight to three. But Aya was not a close-range fighter and Agemeer had no place in such a battle- he knew how to put the Wulf’s carnal qualities to good use but with such limited spacing, it would be unwise. That left just Serrtin. Eight to one; Serrtin had seen odds less in her favor. And she always enjoyed a good fight.

The saurian stepped forward, tired of looking at them. “Who are you and what do you want with us?”

Her question was met by silent glares and impudent gestures with bare steel.

“Well, then, if you won’t talk now, maybe your tongues will loosen after I’m through with you. If I let you live.” That much said, Serrtin leapt at the first hooded man, flamberge swung low. The battle began once more.

Aya shuffled back. She could not risk a spell that might accidentally injure or impede her friend for Serrtin was moving too fast to single out one individual. All seemed intent on taking the towering warrior down.

She dodged and blocked, spun and slashed, her wavy-edged blade carving a bloody path. Her movements were fluid for one of her size and came with experience. Taking a strike on the hiltguard, Serrtin delivered a painful kick to the midsection of one unlucky soul before smashing her fist down on the back of his neck. She stepped over his downed body to parry a sword thrust to her gut. Serrtin took a slice to her leg without even flinching before inflicting a much larger wound on the attacker.

“Agemeer…” Aya breathed out.

“I am ready.” The scholar responded. “I will assist whenever and wherever I can.”

Aya nodded even though Agemeer’s attention lay rapt on the scene before them, unable to see her affirmation. Then, all of a sudden, she remembered.

-amber orange
.

The raven-haired mage looked up to the treetop over her shoulder with a gasp. He was still there, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk. “Hey, are you just going to watch? Are you here to help us or hinder us?” She shouted without even realizing it.

The mysterious youth looked down at her, mouth twisting into a smile that in no way said he would be doing any helping.

Clanging steel echoed through the trees and then suddenly it died all together. Quickly Aya faced the melee, fearful of the worst. But Serrtin was still standing. Four of the eight were not. The last of the dark gray attackers were staring up into the trees, the Yarcka no longer the center of attention.