Samual (44 page)

“Liar!”

“She is demon tainted.”

“Filthy liar! Alder take you!” Sam hated himself for losing control, but Heri's accusations were intolerable, and he would not stand for them.

“Mind yourself big brother. You are held to your honour and I came in peace.” Heri pointed to the flag carried by the knights. “And I came for justice. Not a battle.”

“This one –.” Heri raised a hand and pointed it straight at Ry, “– is a wanted criminal. She is to be brought back to Fair Fields where she can be properly tried by the Court and then hung.”

“Never!” Sam gave up on any pretence of calm as he yelled it at his brother. “You will never lay your filthy hands on her again!”

And it wouldn't just be him who stopped Heri this time. There were soldiers all around guarding the elders, making sure nothing untoward happened. In fact they were gathering quickly. Every soldier who had been in ear shot was hurrying for them. Heri, whatever lies he spoke, would not steal Ryshal away again.

“Do you deny me my right?” Heri smiled cruelly as he played to the audience.

“What right?! You said you've lost your throne!” And if Heri was no longer king what right did he have to demand anything? Sam wasn't always the quickest when it came to matters of state, but he remembered that much at least.

“But I still speak for the Court. And I will be king again in the fullness of time.”

“How can you speak for the Court when you've lost your throne?” Sam didn't understand that. And even with all the rage and fear rushing through him, that question hit him. This all had to be some sort of elaborate scheme. He didn't understand it. But nothing else made sense.

“Ahh, you've got me there, big brother. But too late as always.” Heri's secret smile suddenly became a grimace of mocking triumph.

“Now that everyone's here!” Heri waved his arms above his head in some sort of prearranged gesture, and the trap was sprung as his knights reached for their weapons. And after that everything seemed to happen in a heartbeat.

The soldiers weren't soldiers at all. Sam realised that immediately he saw them move. Their subtle changes in body position as they reached for their swords far too quickly told him their bones were not as solid as they should be. They moved far too fluidly in their armour to be human or elf. But none of that mattered when there was apparently about to be a battle.

It was a trap.

Sam called out the warning even as he drew his own blade, and jumped lightly to the ground. No matter how fast they thought they were, he was faster. So many years of training, so much anger and hatred coursed through his veins. He was always going to be faster. And there might be a dozen of them, but that would not be enough.

The elders scattered like the wind as they should – none of them were warriors – but the guards took their place, longbows drawn in the blink of an eye. A dozen soldiers against surely a hundred elves, Heri's guards had never stood a chance. But Sam had not properly considered Heri's evil and cunning.

Instead of actually drawing their swords, the soldiers hissed, a sound akin to that of a snake about to strike, and between one blink of an eye and the next, he knew a feeling of torture. It was the sound of a termite mound screaming in each ear, loud and discordant, and somehow crippling. Almost as if the termites were eating out the very centre of his head.

Arrows were loosed and flew in all directions. But none of them hit their targets as those who had loosed them collapsed.

Sam cried out in shock and torment. He wanted to drop his sword and cover his ears, but somehow he didn't. He was alone though. As bad as the noise was for him it was worse for everyone else. The elves screamed. Weapons were dropped and hands covered ears as the elves cried out in pain and fell to the ground in agony all around him. It wasn't just the guards either, it was all of them. The elders, the onlookers, and his beloved Ryshal and her family. None of them could stand the noise. And it was then that Sam finally understood why Heri had been grandstanding. He'd been bringing all the elven soldiers to within range of the soldiers' hissing.

But none of that mattered when Ryshal was down.

Panicking Sam ran to her, all his years of training and discipline forgotten in a heartbeat as he saw Ry writhing in agony on the ground with the others. It was only when he felt the pain of a knife biting into his back that he realised his terrible mistake. He'd turned his back on Heri.

Instantly he spun. The wound was bad but not bad enough to stop him slaughtering his half-brother there and then. The noise wasn't going to stop him either. Sam simply reached for his fire and prepared a blast. But it didn't come.

That shocked him. The fire always came, and he could feel it roaring furiously away in his core. But still it wouldn't come. The shock must have shown on his face, as he looked up to see Heri approaching him, knife in hand, laughing like a madman.

“What, no magic brother?” He mocked him, enjoying his apparent powerlessness, savouring his coming victory, and Sam knew he was in desperate trouble. A knife in his back, his magic somehow gone, and that terrible noise attacking his head; Heri had sprung his trap and it was devastating.

“Naturally I coated the blade with a tincture of clouded azure. Even now the poison is flowing through your blood, blocking your magic. It'll return of course, in a day or two. But you'll be long dead by then.” Heri laughed some more, his face twisted up in triumph until it resembled something inhuman.

“And the noise. The hiss of the shadow vipers. The weakness of all the elves, and through your harlot mother, you with them. Imagine that big brother; the same blood that gives you your devastating magic, leaves you powerless against a bunch of armoured snakes.”

“Stupid of you really not to have prepared. But then you always did underestimate me. You always did think that with your muscles and your magic you were better than me. Father did too. But I'm smarter.”

And just to prove it he raised his arm, and Sam had just enough time to see another knife strapped to the inside of his forearm before it shot at him like an arrow. But that was all the warning he needed, and somehow he managed to twist around a little, just enough that the knife didn't hit his breastplate cleanly and instead bounced off to go flying into the trees. At least some of his training was still with him. Enough to dodge a knife thrower.

That didn't please Heri at all, and he snarled at him like a rabid dog, words apparently failing him. But he still had a knife in his hand, its blade dripping with some sort of black liquid that ate the light around it, and Sam knew he was in trouble. Sam gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, assuming a defensive stance. At least he was armed, even if he could barely see for the pain in his head.

“There is no fear. There is no doubt. There is no pain. There is only the battle.” It had been a long time since Sam had spoken the creed of the warrior out loud. He'd seldom had the need. But it was good to hear the words again, and better to feel their strength flowing through him. A warrior was always ready. There were no excuses. There could be no failure. Years and years on the parade grounds being drilled in his weapons every day and being pushed to breaking point had taught him that.

As Heri advanced on him he pushed aside the noise trying to tear his head apart, pushed aside the pain and weakness in his back too and even forgot that he had no magic. None of that mattered. Instead he focussed only on the battle and the sword in his hands.

Heri must have seen that in his eyes, and he started goading him, determined to break his concentration.

“You know your own mother and your nearly born sister died at my mother's hands. She poisoned her just as she was about to give birth. There could be no more half elf bastards running around the kingdom.”

Heri lunged at him, hoping his words would distract him, but he was out of luck. There was only the battle and only the blade in his hand, and Sam simply deflected his attack with a simple flick of his sword. He left the words for later.

“You know I'm going to kill Ryshal.” Heri tried another lunge with the poisoned blade, and Sam deflected it again, spinning him around.

He might be weaker than normal, but his technique was still working perfectly.

“After I have her.” This time Heri used a surprising twisting spin blow, hoping to come under his guard, but it was easily enough blocked.

“Again.”

There it was, that last nasty accusation designed to throw Sam off just as he took aim with his blade and hurled it at him with all his strength. But Sam had expected it, and he would never allow Heri to distract him. A simple twist and the blade shot straight past him to land somewhere among the trees. Suddenly Heri was unarmed.

His half-brother looked up at him, suddenly frightened as he realised he was helpless and about to die. Sam could see the fear in his eyes, and though it was wrong he knew a moment of intense pleasure at the sight. But of course it wasn't over. He still had to take Heri's head.

Heri though had other ideas and he spun on his heels like a dancer and dashed frantically for the horses, thinking either to flee or to grab another weapon. Whichever it was he was out of luck. Seeing him break and run Sam simply raised his greatsword over his head, and with a two handed cast, hurled it straight at his retreating back with all the strength he had.

It was a good throw. The blade cut through the air, spinning like a top, before burying itself hilt deep in the small of his back with a thump. Heri went down with a gasp, collapsing on the ground in a bloody tangle of limbs and leather, and Sam knew the blow had been a serious one. He might not be dead yet, but he soon would be. Surely by the All Father he would soon be gone from this world!

Before Sam could celebrate though, he had some snakes to kill.

Calmly, still somehow putting the pain in his head out of his thoughts, he walked over to his horse and drew his crossbow from her pack, Shadow vipers were nasty creatures, and as Heri had said, especially dangerous to those with sharp ears such as the elves and the sylph. But they were also incredibly rare and very hard to control. Just squeezing them into the armour would have been a struggle, and then getting them on top of the horses another. The horses wouldn't have liked it either. Somewhere in amongst them he knew, would be their handler. A wizard gifted with some sort of control over them. It had to be one of the advisers, both of whom were staring at him with a look of fear and horror on their faces. Things weren't working out as they had expected. Everyone was supposed to have been overcome by their creatures. Suddenly they were facing a warrior and their creatures had no real power other than their hiss.

The advisers clearly thought they were about to die. They assumed that Sam was going to put a bolt through their hearts and were panicking. It was ironic really. They'd brought what they had thought was an army that was all but unassailable by the elves, and they were right. But against a single half elf with a crossbow and a sword they were helpless. To add to the irony Heri had brought them for his defence, but when he'd fallen they'd discovered that they needed him as much as he needed them.

“Get down.” He gave the order and the two advisers obeyed without so much as a word of protest. No doubt they thought he was going to kill them on the spot but they were still too frightened to disobey him. In truth he wanted to kill them. The pain was terrible.

But he couldn't kill them yet. To kill the handler would be to release the vipers from their control, and then they would run wild, killing any elves they found still lying helpless on the ground.

So instead he put his first bolt straight through the centre of the nearest creature's breastplate, fairly much where a man's heart would be. He wasn't completely sure that these foul things had hearts, but it must have been enough as the viper suddenly screeched madly and fell off the horse, before writhing away on the ground in its death throes.

Bits of its armour fell off as it writhed, revealing the true horror of the creature. With the gauntlets gone, he could see the snake like tentacles it had for arms bursting free, and once the helm rolled away, its viper like head popped out. In fact it even had a forked tongue like a snake sticking out between its fangs.