In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) (10 page)

He needn’t have bothered worrying.

The Dwarven archers had been busy while he was distracting the bandits. Dwarven archers couldn’t fire with the same speed, power or range of the human longbows, but the Dwarves had always done their best to compensate for their shortcomings by training for superior accuracy. While the bandits’ attention was not on the Dwarves but on the suddenly flying Maelgyn, the Dwarven Archers repositioned themselves to better hit their opponents safely. With the sudden explosion driving their enemy out from cover, the bandings were easily picked off in rapid succession. The few who escaped the shrapnel and the arrows were not prepared for the final onslaught as the Dwarven
naginata
reached them. The last bandit fell without even a cry, and the battle was over. Seeing that the immediate threat had ended, Maelgyn relaxed his magic. With nothing left to support him, he couldn’t find the strength to stand any more. He knew Euleilla must have passed out from magical exhaustion after saving him with that little flying trick, and now he would be joining her.

Maelgyn awoke to find Euleilla sitting by him, talking to a Dwarf. The pounding in his head was so loud, he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he knew they were talking softly. He sighed, closing his eyes again. He didn’t want to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want to move, either.

Euleilla obviously had noticed his movements, however. He felt her lift his head up and hold a cup to his lips. “Drink,” she said softly.

He drank. He recognized the bitter taste as willow bark tea – a simple painkiller which had been in use for hundreds of years. There were more effective painkillers which Svieda’s chemists and alchemists had since developed, but he’d decided not to take any with him on the journey since he didn’t expect to find himself in this situation. He wondered if the tea was made from fresh willows, or whether the Dwarves had some with them.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never tried that before, and I think I hurt you.”

“You saved my life,” Maelgyn said, a trifle more forcefully than he probably should have, since it aggravated his headache. “I’ve got a headache, and it feels as if all of my exposed skin has been bruised. And yet I think I should be thanking you for it, because all of that is better than being dead.”

“And I should be thanking the both of you,” another voice broke in. Maelgyn’s eyes opened at the new voice, and he saw one of the Dwarves he had rescued now standing over him as well. “If it weren’t for you two, we’d
all
be dead. I suppose you should know who it is who you saved, in return.”

“That might be nice,” Maelgyn agreed, slowly sitting up. He noticed some red blotches on his hands as he pulled himself to his feet. “How bad do I look?”

“Better than you did before your missy here started treating you,” the Dwarf noted wryly. “You looked bloated and red, at first, but now you look fairly normal, with some mild bruising. Good lady, that one.”

Maelgyn grinned hesitantly. Clearly, Euleilla had remembered their cover story, because this Dwarf seemed to think they were involved. Still, his reply was an honest one. “Yeah, I must agree.”

“Anyway, let me introduce myself. I am El’Athras, Merchant Prince of Mar’Tok. I understand you need to travel through my people’s lands.” The Dwarf grinned at him. “I may be able to help you with that.”

Maelgyn glanced over at Euleilla. Just what had she told the man? “Well, yes.”

“Yes,” the Dwarf said. “I do know everything, but don’t blame her. I recognized you straight away – you look a lot like your great grandfather.”

“Ah. Well...”

“Stick to your plan,” El’Athras advised, a curious grin on his weathered face. “Go on to Elm Knoll, and give me time to get back to Mar’Tok. When you arrive in our lands, come see me. I have an estate in the city of Nir’Thik.” The Dwarf handed Maelgyn a signet ring. “Show that to my people if you need to convince them I asked you to come to me. But whatever you do, don’t let anyone else know that you are a Sword Prince! I have important things to discuss with you, and certain of my people may try and stop you from meeting me if they know exactly who you are.”

“Right,” Maelgyn agreed, not quite understanding.

“I have to hurry. I’ve told your girl everything you need to know, but if I spend too much time here the rest of my troop is going to wonder what we’re talking about. Normally, they’d be willing to wait here long enough to make sure you’re okay, since you did save our lives and all, but we’re carrying perishables this trip,” El’Athras explained. “We Dwarves never let gratitude get in the way of making money, so we have to go as soon as possible. They don’t know who you are, or they just might act a bit differently.”

With that, he left. Maelgyn suddenly realized they were in a tent – a somewhat larger tent than they’d owned before, and he had to wonder where it had come from. “Euleilla?” he said.

“Yes?”

“Where’d we get the tent?”

“I bought it,” she explained.

“Ah. Why?”

“I didn’t have one,” she reminded him. “Now, you don’t, but it’s large enough for both of us to be comfortable.”

Maelgyn blinked. “You traded away my old tent?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose that’s okay,” he admitted. Dwarves never gave up something for nothing, not even out of gratitude, and it was not like she had much to bargain with. He decided that it might be best to look around discretely and see if anything else was missing, however – he liked this girl, but he couldn’t be certain she was not a thief. Wincing, he stretched out. “Ugh. I suppose I feel better than I have any right to, but that flying trick of yours hurts. And making chainmail on the fly –
chainmail!
That takes both precision and force. You’re quite powerful, you know?”

“In terms of raw power, you’re significantly stronger than I am. I’ve just been forced to improve my skill faster than most people our age,” she said, clearly in one of her more verbose moods. “I think, if you trained hard for about a year, you could surpass me in skill, easily. You have a lot more potential magic inside you than I do.”

“How do you know that?” Maelgyn asked, watching his hands for any signs of unseen injury as he practiced making a fist a few times.

“You can ‘feel’ magic, can’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah, sort of. I can feel it when I touch it, at least, but I have to be inside of the field of magic to sense it.”

Euleilla nodded, and touched him slightly with her own magic – just a gentle nudge, but enough for him to feel it. “I can feel magic, too... only I’m better at it than you. I can feel not just its presence, but its strength. I can
see
you and other mages because of it... and you are so much brighter than anyone else I have ever met; brighter than my father, brighter than Cawnpore, and even brighter than me. You might not be able to do as much with your magic as I am, but only because you haven’t practiced enough to hone your skills properly.”

Maelgyn grimaced as a particularly knotted muscle cramped up during his stretches. At least the bruises were already fading. By the time they reached Elm Knoll, there wouldn’t be too many outward signs of any injuries. “Well, I haven’t had many chances to use my magic much over the past two or three years. I used more magic in that one battle alone than in all the time since I turned sixteen. I’m out of practice.”

“And I’ve had to use magic for every waking moment since I was twelve,” she explained, shrugging. “It’s just a matter of knowing exactly what I can do.”

“By the way... how did you know what was going on? I didn’t hear anything happening from the road.”

“Simple,” Euleilla said. “I can use magic to sense where people are, since all people have a little inherent magic in them whether they learn to use it or not. I felt two large gatherings of people and felt the need to investigate.”

“So why did you need to have some magic dust around me when we were up in the mountains?”

“Because I might be able to sense where you are, and how strong you are, but without my dust I can’t see what you’re doing at any one moment.” She ‘smiled,’ and cocked her head at him. “If you duck, I’d like to know you ducked so I can, too. You didn’t duck that tree limb, you know.”

“Sorry,” Maelgyn apologized, grinning himself. “One last question before you start giving one word answers, again: Just how were you able to make swords and armor so quickly, anyway?”

She looked somewhat offended. “I lived with a battle-hardened veteran for several years, a veteran who taught me how to ‘see’ by using swords and armor to make dummies. I probably know more about swords and armor than most blacksmiths!” She pulled out another sword – one she’d obviously made from the ruins of one of the bandit swords. It was a longsword, and looked to be custom-fit for him and complete with sheath. “Here. You don’t want to be flashing the symbol of your nobility around when you’re trying to keep your identity a secret, but the way things have been going you might need to draw a sword again. You might find this one better suited for that.”

“Uh, right,” he said, taking the weapon uncertainly. It felt comfortable in his hands, though, and he found he liked the weight and balance of it. A quick test of the sharpness told him that it was a very adequate weapon. “Thank you.”

She just nodded, grinning. “Enjoy.”

“Are you recovered from the battle, yet?” he asked, remembering that she’d drained herself during the fight making him fly.

“Mostly,” she answered.

“Well, then, should we go?”

“‘Kay.” She helped him out of the tent and left him standing to attend to their camp. Maelgyn watched her handle things from there with a small degree of awe.

With a wave of her hand, metal tent poles rose from the ground and pulled the tent closed. Another wave and their supplies were rolled up in a metal-lined canvas drop cloth. A few more handwaves and their entire camp was packed up, loaded on their horse. Maelgyn just shook his head, wondering how in the world she thought he would ever be able to match such a feat. Once more, they were on the road.

Chapter 7

Maelgyn wasn’t quite sure what to make of Elm Knoll. For what was such a small village, it seemed to have a large number of travelers. He hadn’t been sure it would be possible to find even a cheap hostel or inn to stay at when looking at the maps – he was just hoping for a bit of village green he could set his tent up in. However, Elm Knoll had lots of inns, many of them very high class establishments. In fact, outside of a couple of shops, it seemed as if the entire town consisted of inns and nothing else – no farms (though there’d been several along the road into town, which was apparently where the people of Elm Knoll got their food), few private homes, no blacksmiths, no carpenters, no lumber mills, no production of any kind. He’d never known a place like this. Obviously it was a fairly wealthy town, but he couldn’t see what it was that made it so much money. It didn’t matter, though: According to the papers Wybert had supplied, this was the best place to rest and resupply before starting on the mountain pass they now intended to take. Euleilla and pack horse in tow, he looked for one of the more unobtrusive inns.

He approached the counter at the inn he chose, the “Savage Bear,” with Euleilla in tow. “Excuse me, I’d like a room, please.”

The man at the counter smiled pleasantly. “Well, this is your lucky day. We just happen to have a single vacancy for you. Name and number of occupants?”

Maelgyn hadn’t thought of a false name to use, and wasn’t sure what to say. Then again, his own name was fairly common in some parts of Svieda, and so maybe he could get away with it. “Maelgyn. I’m here with my new wife.”

“Ah, newlyweds! Well, it just so happens that we have a private hot spring just for newlyweds! What’s her name?”

“Um... Euleilla.” Maelgyn wondered just what the man was talking about.

“Good, good,” the inn manager said. “Now, I need you to both sign here.”

“Sure,” Maelgyn said. Unlike most countries in the known world, the people of Svieda were largely literate; therefore, signing one’s own name was a common practice. He wasn’t sure, however, if Euleilla knew how to write, but he’d deal with that as it came to it. As he wrote down his own name, he asked. “So, what’s this about a private hot spring?”

“I thought you knew about our hot springs!” the inn manager exclaimed. “Why else would you stop in Elm Knoll?”

“Last stop before crossing over into Sopan,” Maelgyn explained, handing the pen and guestbook over to Euleilla with only a cursory glance of concern. “I’m going home. My family, well, they don’t know I’m married yet.”

“Ah,” the manager nodded sagely. “Well, you chose the right place to stop, especially for a couple of newlyweds. Elm Knoll is the home to the only sizable collection of hot springs in all of Largo! Whether you’re an old man trying to soak away the rheumatism in your bones, a road-weary traveler trying to relax, or,” he winked lecherously, “a young couple on your honeymoon, our hot springs are for you. And, since you’re staying here, you and your lovely young bride will have a chance to experience one together, and without interruption from others. Just make sure to sign up for it in advance, as time slots fill up fast.”

“I... don’t know if we’ll be staying long enough to enjoy that, this time,” Maelgyn said, wishing for the first time he hadn’t come up with his newlyweds story. If he hadn’t, then perhaps he’d have a chance to get a nice hot bath and clean the grime off. Now, though, if he tried to take one
without
having his ‘wife’ with him, people might start to get a little suspicious. “Perhaps at a later date, though.”