Legend of the Swords: War (34 page)

“I don’t know if this water is from the pool that we waded through,” Ryan began, “But it doesn’t feel as slimy.”

Kevin rubbed the gel left on his legs. “Maybe the slime stays in the lake.”

“Maybe. But you know how, when you step out of your house at home at night, your eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the darkness?” Kevin nodded, and Ryan continued. “I think we can collect some of this water and put out those torches. Maybe then we can run past.”

Kevin nodded again, then his eyebrows knit together. “Do you have anything to collect it in?”

Ryan shook his head, thinking. He shrugged, looking at Kevin.

Kevin’s eyes opened wider. He bent over, and took off a boot. “Heh. The floor’s really cold," he said, holding the boot up to the wall. It started to fill with water.

Quickly, Ryan did the same with both of his boots. “Take your other one off, too—we’re going to have to run, and having one boot on will slow you down.” He turned to look at the torches. “And I don’t want to miss one of the torches by accident—the more shots we have, the better.”

Kevin did, and filled that one with water too. “I’ll take the left torch, you take the right?” he said, and Ryan nodded.

They walked back to the guards, and to Armand, who looked at their bare feet and raised his eyebrows.

“Are you going to try to defeat them with your foot smell?” He asked.

“No, we’re just going to try to get past them,” Ryan said, gesturing to the sconces and winking.

“I hate to say it—” Armand paused, tilting his head to the side. “No, wait, I don’t hate to say it—but you’re no quieter without shoes, squire.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered: “I think they can see you anyway—
you’re standing right there
.”

Ryan just smiled, then turned to Kevin, and nodded. They both threw the water at the torches. The corridor plunged into darkness.

“Run, Armand!” Ryan shouted, as he himself pounded the stone floor with his feet.

The Bourne were thrusting their pikes randomly into the air in hopes of catching one of them, but the three burst into the chamber beyond without even a single poke.

The small chamber beyond had purple curtains hanging around all of its walls. A central fire gave warmth and light to the room. Several Bourne were gathered around the far side of a stone table that stood in front of a throne. The largest Bourne of all—perhaps four and a half feet tall, wore an ornate crown and held a scepter apparently made of gold, and topped with a clear crystal similar to the walls. The throne was close enough that Ryan could see that the crystal was weeping water just like the walls outside were.

The table in front of the throne was rectangular, about seven feet long, and had a lip around its edge with a depression in the middle.

Ryan groaned. Gregory was lying, tied, in the depression. His throat had been cut, and his lifeblood was pouring into the table.

Armand drew his sword, screaming, and sliced two of the creatures’ heads off before they could recover from the shock of their entrance. Then they started gibbering and jumping around, and it became difficult to hit them.

Armand’s speed increased. He was faster than Ryan had thought was humanly possible—but he was still slow, compared to these … things. He managed to land a blow on one of the creature’s legs. It bounded in front of Kevin, howling in pain, and Kevin finished it off.

The Bourne king rose, slowly, and stepped down off of the dais. Two of the other Bourne turned to look, and Armand parted their heads from their shoulders.

Ryan wasn’t standing still either. He had felt his shoulders relax, automatically, as he had drawn his sword. He was a spinning blade, now, trying to move faster, or move smarter, than the green-skinned enemies.

Ryan wounded one on the arm, just before it would have hit Kevin. Armand jumped away from the table to thrust into its back before it could scamper away.

The two armored guards from outside the door caught up with them just as Ryan skewered another one of the king’s group. He had thrust where he thought it
would be,
instead of where it simply was.

His smile of grim satisfaction slid off of his face, though, as the two armored door guards calmly walked around them and took up station next to the king. The king had knelt next to the table, holding his scepter in one hand, and a simple wooden cup in the other. He reached out to the table’s base with the cup.

Gregory’s blood drained into his cup. Ryan lunged toward the nearest guard, but the guard easily used his pike to push Ryan’s sword aside. The creature gurgled strangely, letting go of his weapon with one hand to point at Ryan.

He’s … he’s
laughing
at me!
Ryan thought. He redoubled his efforts, but could not land a blow.

Armand suddenly stood on his left, and Kevin on his right. A quick glance told Ryan that the rest of the creatures were dead. He hoped that Gregory was not.

Motivated by their comrade’s still form, the three fought together as they never had before. When Kevin struck low, Ryan pushed the creature’s pike out of the way, and Armand struck high. When Armand lunged forward, Ryan and Kevin defended him.

There was only enough room between the table and the throne for one of the enemies to stand. The other pikeman watched the battle, and the king ignored them all. Ryan saw him turn his golden scepter upside-down, and touch the weeping crystal to his wooden cup, filling it to the brim with blood and water.

Armand thrust low, and the creature dodged—but this time, Armand hadn’t overbalanced to reach as far as he could. He dropped his back knee all the way to the ground, sliced his sword upwards with all the strength he could muster, and finally connected with the door guard. The tip of his sword caught the Bourne in the armpit, and cut deeply into its sword arm. The creature’s arm hung only by a thin bit of sinew and skin.

Kevin lunged, striking the creature in the center of its chest. The amulets on both guards flared brightly, momentarily blinding Ryan. He blinked rapidly, backing up for safety, trying to see past tears that had come unbidden. Finally, his eyes cleared. Kevin’s sword lay on the ground, with a charred and smoking amulet wrapped around its middle. Kevin himself had been blown a dozen feet away. There was no trace of either of the two guards. Armand was next to Ryan, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

The king of the Bourne, however, had its head back and the cup of blood and water at its lips. They watched in horror, helpless as the creature drained the cup.

Confrontation

Hesiod sank down next to Renek, and tried to wake him. He shook Renek’s shoulders, called his name, and even slapped him, but to no avail.

He tried to pry the sword out of Renek’s hands, but his muscles were clenched in unconscious strength.

“I suppose there’s nothing to do but wait," he said to the knight’s remains, which still lay on the table. He pulled out a biscuit and began to nibble.

A moment later, Renek took a deep breath and sat up. He gasped for air like a person who had been drowning, but was somehow saved at the last moment.

Hesiod nibbled a bit more at his biscuit, but the look of relief on his face was clear.

“I’m glad you woke up.” Hesiod grinned. “I couldn’t have carried you out of here, even if I did know the way.”

“What happened?” Renek asked, holding his hands to his head. The pommel of his sword touched his temple, and he held it in front of his face, staring.

“The sword shocked you,” Hesiod said. He stepped over to Renek and held the rest of his biscuit out. Renek took it with his free hand, and put the rest of it in his mouth. “You went down like a sack full of potatoes.” Hesiod helped held out his hand helped Renek stand up.

“Huh," Renek said. He swayed on his feet for a moment, holding his arms out, along with the sword.

Hesiod gestured at the blade. “Well?”

“It is a better balance," Renek said, swinging the sword through the air a few times. He took one last look at the sword, and then sheathed it. “Well, it looks like we found one of the swords, at least.”

“One that we had with us the whole time.” Hesiod laughed.

“In an incomplete form, though," Renek said, head tilted to the side.

“Does it matter?” Hesiod said. “You already fight like a god. Maybe that’s all it does.” He looked at Renek appraisingly. “You feel any different?”

Renek shook his head. “No. Not even a little bit.”

Hesiod grunted. “We’d better try to find our way out of here. If that blade’s going to do any good, it’s got to be a bit closer to the enemy.”

Renek smiled. “Well, there’s only one way out of this room, anyway—so we know what direction to go for now.”

“It’s the turns that worry me.” Hesiod grinned. “We’d best pick up that other torch outside, just in case.”

Renek sighed. “Let’s get going.”

*   *   *

They headed out a few minutes later, after gathering Hesiod’s things back into his damp pouch. Renek led the way between the wet walls of the mountain.

They came to the first corridor, which branched off to their right. Renek paused, but after only a few moments nodded straight.

“That passageway slopes upward," he said, gesturing. “The other one goes down.”

They continued on like that for some time: Renek would pause when there was a junction, and then head in the direction where the floor sloped up most strongly. They had to turn around a couple of times when they hit dead ends, or chambers that had no exit, but it wasn’t more than two hours before they stepped out next to the lake.

“I am not looking forward to this," Hesiod said. “It’s cold enough without diving into icy water.”

“Well, we can take our shoes off this time," Renek said reasonably.

Hesiod nodded and they both sat down to remove their shoes.

Wading across the lake was just as bad as it had been before, except Hesiod didn’t trip on any bodies. They sat down for a few minutes on the other shore to let their feet dry, and had a biscuit to keep up their strength.

“Soon, we’ll be out in the sun again," Renek said, gesturing with his biscuit.

“Can’t be soon enough for me," Hesiod said as he rubbed his feet, biscuit on his stomach. “And we can’t get back to the camp quick enough, either. I want a real meal.”

“We have to get down the mountain, first,” Renek cautioned. “And I’m a little surprised that we haven’t already run into any … surprises, arranged by the prince.”

Hesiod nodded and picked up his biscuit again.

*   *   *

When they emerged from the mountain’s mouth, it was the stars that greeted them, not the sun. It was still quite cold.

“Huh," Renek said, holding his torch up to try to see further. “No brush around here, either, so we can’t build a fire.” The light from his torch shone off of the metal bar next to him. He turned to Hesiod. “Should we try to climb down a little ways in the dark?”

Hesiod looked up at the sky and shook his head. “I think it’s only a couple of hours before dawn," he said. “It might be cold, but trying to walk down a mountain’s side—and on all of that gravel, too—in the dark, well, it sounds like an invitation to a broken ankle. We should try and sleep a bit.”

They got out their thin blankets and lay down, back-to-back for warmth, and shivered until at last the east began to lighten.

Renek got up as soon as the sky, with a warm orange color, greeted the sun. He walked over to the east a bit in the passage, jumping up and down a bit to get more circulation in his limbs.

“Sunrises are more beautiful than sunsets," Hesiod said quietly.

Renek jumped at the sound. He hadn’t heard Hesiod’s approach.

“Why is that?” He asked.

“Because the dawn is the beginning of a new day," he said, simply. “The sunset is always bittersweet, because at best you can reflect on how … wonderful the day has been. At worst, you can mull over your regrets.” He smiled, sadly. “Preferably with a glass of mulled wine.”

Renek tilted his head, considering. “Ah, but if you have regrets, then the sunset introduces you to the end of the day that brought those regrets, and you can look forward to a new day. Therefore the sunset is a beautiful thing, is it not?”

Hesiod turned to Renek. “But what are you looking forward to, if not the sun’s rising to cast its warmth and light on that new day?” He shook his head. “No, sunrise is far more beautiful. It is …” he looked down at the sword at Renek’s side. “Potent. Full of potential.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you to make the day a good one, but the potential itself is a beautiful thing.”

Renek nodded, and turned back to gaze silently at the sunrise.

A few minutes later, Hesiod stirred. “Should we try to find some of the horses?” He asked. “Or should we climb down the gentle side of the mountain?”

Renek shook his head. “There is a gentle side to this mountain?” He laughed. “Both the outside and the inside seemed positively brutal, to me!”

“Yet, we are both standing here, contemplating the sunrise.” Hesiod smiled. “Perhaps it was less brutal than you think.”

Renek chuckled. “Perhaps you’re right, Hesiod.” He grinned. “It’s all in how you look at it, I suppose.” He looked back at the pathway behind them. “As to heading down the mountain, what direction do you think would be faster?”

“Hmmm. Speed, while beneficial, may be less important than finding the horses that we took," he said thoughtfully. “Although we were …” he looked at Renek’s sword again. “
Partially
successful, a mounted soldier is worth at least two soldiers on foot. I doubt they’ll flay us one way or the other, now that you have the sword, but it would be better if we could find the horses.”

Renek nodded. “Let’s get going, then," he said, striding towards the pile of rubble.

*   *   *

The pace that Renek set warmed their bodies thoroughly by the time they reached the scrub brush at the bottom of the switchback trail. Renek had gone too fast for Hesiod, and he paused at the bottom to let him catch up. It was almost a full minute before Hesiod came panting up behind him.