Spell Fade (16 page)

“What sister?” Slow Brother Ogre (who actually moved very quickly) asked.

“Remember the story?” Big Brother Ogre (who was actually the smallest of all of them) hissed.

Slow Brother scratched his head. “Oh, right, the story!” he whispered loudly and winked at his brother. Then to Logan, “You’ll pay for what you did.”

“I’ve got this one,” Big Brother Ogre said with a shake of his head. “Help our brothers with the girl.”

Aliet. Dartan strained against his bonds to find her. How could he have allowed himself to be captured? And where was Marcus?

Slow Brother was headed towards a group of three other ogres standing around a large tree. All three had fresh oozing cuts on various parts of their body, and appeared to be arguing over the fate of the tree and its occupant, Aliet. One wanted to chop the tree down, another wanted to set it on fire, and the third thought a good shaking would do the trick. When they saw their brother approaching, it gave them all the perfect plan.

“Come give this a running whack with your head,” they called out to him, to which he happily grinned, lowered his head, and prepared to reach ramming speed. There were chuckles and mumbles amongst the ogres as they placed bets on which would split first, the tree or their brother’s head. Odds were heavily in favor of the tree, but the two would never meet.

The ogre was leaning forward, one hand on the ground, ready to launch himself towards the tree when he heard something swiftly approaching from the darkness. Dartan saw the ogre turn his head and heard him say, “Hey,” just as Marcus materialized from the gloom. His sword whistled through the air, sliced clean through the ogre’s extended neck, and he disappeared back into the forest before its head had even bounced twice.

There were a few moments of silence before Big Brother yelled, “What are you waiting for? After him!” Shake It Ogre and Burn It Ogre ran in the direction Marcus had gone, leaving Chop It Down Ogre to deal with Aliet. He raised his large axe and prepared to make short work of felling the tree. Big Brother leaned in close over Logan and spat, “I don’t care what the job was, you all die here tonight.”

Dartan looked from the tree back to Logan and panicked. He had to get free, and his mind would only offer one solution. It wasn’t trying to stretch the ropes, or even loosen the knots, no, there was only fire. In all f
airness, it was what he had spent the entire day practicing. He found it a little difficult to focus on the rope, his mind distracted by the peril Aliet and Logan now faced. Luckily, the dry fibers of the rope needed very little encouragement to catch fire.

Burning the rope was certainly effective, and fast, releasing him in mere moments. The problem was when the fire spread to his clothes. Chop It Down’s axe paused, and Big Brother’s club was still as they both watched the spontaneously combusting human dance around desperately patting out flames, before dropping to the ground and rolling around in the dirt.

Seeing her chance, Aliet leapt from the tree, straight towards the ogre below. Her sword sliced neatly through his arm, and she landed behind the ogre at the same time his arm hit the ground. The beast roared in pain, and swung at her with his other arm. She easily ducked the blow, then slashed across the back of his legs with her sword. His legs collapsed underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. Aliet jumped on his back and plunged her sword deep into the beast’s heart.

Logan didn’t react quite as quickly. He and Big Brother were frozen in place, watching Dartan’s attempts at extinguishing himself, the ogre wide-eyed, while Logan had a half-smile stuck on his face. If not for the loose string of drool that dripped from the ogre’s open mouth onto Logan’s face, they might have stayed that way. Logan wiped the spittle from his face, then swung his foot into the ogre’s groin, only wondering for a moment if it would be effective before the howl of pain provided his answer. The ogre’s face turned red, his eyes crossed, and he started to fall forward. Logan grabbed his sword and held it up, impaling the ogre through his bottom jaw as he fell. Logan slid sideways at the last moment to keep from being crushed under the creature.

The flames finally out, Dartan jumped to his feet, scooped up his sword, and … found his help was not needed. Aliet was cleaning the ogre blood from her sword while Logan was still trying to retrieve his. One solid pull and the sword slid out with a sound like being pulled from mud. He planted a foot on the ogre and wiped his blade clean against the creature’s hide before heading over to Dartan
.

“Thanks for the distraction,” Logan remarked as he patted out a flame that had jumped to life on Dartan’s back.

“Don’t mention it,” Dartan insisted through clenched teeth.

“Is everyone all right?” Logan asked. Although a bit singed, Dartan was otherwise fine, so he replied with a simple nod.

“Fine,” Aliet answered as she moved closer to inspect Dartan. She was going to make a remark about needing a clothes mending spell before she remembered, “Marcus!”

“Is perfectly fine,” Marcus’s voice called out from dark. “And I don’t think we have anything more to worry about from the ogres,” he added as he moved into camp.

“Which just leaves the group following us,” Logan reminded them.

“And whoever else they decide to send after me,” Dartan said. There was no doubt in any of their minds now, this attack was not about Logan. The ogres knew who Dartan was, and they had been ordered not to harm him.

“We need to get to Kinsley,” Marcus muttered. “Pack up,” he then said, noting the greying sky above. “Time to go.”

Chapter Sixteen

“We’re being followed.” Logan came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the small field. So abrupt, in fact, Aliet and Dartan nearly crashed into him.

Frustrated, Aliet replied, “Not more ogres.”

“No,” he said, oblivious to her irritation. “And it’s not the Northern wizard either.” Marcus moved back to join them.

“Who is it?” Marcus asked, peering into the trees ringing the field.

“Slayers,” he answered, looking behind them.

“How many?” Marcus asked, his lips barely moving.

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, then answered, “Three.” He opened them and added, “Although, that’s just the number of slayers. I have no idea how many other people might be with them.”

Marcus grumbled, but it was Dartan who spoke. “Is this another sort of special ability you possess, or can we assume they know you’re a slayer as well?”

“It’s something we can all do – sense the power in one another, but,” he trailed off for a moment, closing his eyes again. He shook his head. “It’s strange. Either they’re far behind us, or not very powerful.”

“My money would be on the second option.” They all turned, weapons drawn, towards the stranger’s voice. “Although,” he continued, “we haven’t really found it to be much of a hindrance.” The owner of the voice stepped out from behind the trees, and into the field with a broad smile and empty hands. He was barely past being called a boy, but there was no doubt in Logan’s mind he was a slayer. “In fact, I’d say it was a distinct advantage in this case.”

“How do you figure that?” Logan asked.

The smile grew even larger. “We felt you getting close hours ago.” Logan grinned back as he sheathed his sword. If these men had wanted them dead, the attack would have already happened.

His name was Farnir, and he had only the other two slayers with him, both only slightly older than himself. Alain had paid a visit to Kinsley earlier, and told them to expect a small group traveling under his protection. He did not offer introductions of the other two slayers, instead sending them back into the forest.

“The wizard mentioned a slayer was traveling in your group,” Farnir spoke from the front of their small party, a position Marcus had reluctantly ceded to him, even as a simple escort to the village. “You created quite a stir when we began to feel your power,” he said to Logan. He chuckled softly, almost to himself, then looked at Logan as he said, “They weren’t sure whether to welcome you or forbid your entry entirely.”

“We’re still debating that ourselves,” Dartan added.

Logan ignored Dartan and asked, “How many of you are there in the village?”

“Slayers?” Farnir clarified. Logan gave a slight nod. Farnir scratched his head for a moment before deciding, “I’d say about half the village must have some level of the talent.”

“Half?!” Logan and Marcus said in unison.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” Marcus added.

“No, sir, it sure didn’t,” Farnir agreed. “Didn’t start attracting slayers until about ten or fifteen years ago.”

“What do you mean, ‘attracting slayers’?” Logan asked. “What exactly is attracting them?”

Farnir shrugged. “The village, I suppose. My father was one of the first to come. He and my brother had the power, and both just started feeling the pull one day. It was so strong, my father packed up our entire family, left the farm that had been in our family for generations, and headed into the wilderness. When we reached Kinsley, he just stopped.” Farnir suddenly stopped talking, leaving no sound except the rustle of leaves still clinging to the trees and the crunch of dead ones underfoot. When he spoke again his voice was low and slightly strained.

“I hated my father for doing it. Tearing us from the only life we had ever known, for a reason I had no way of comprehending. And I think I hated my brother even more because he could.” The silence returned, heavier than before. It was Farnir who again broke it.

His voice was lighter this time, with almost a laugh behind it. “It would be years before I could understand – before the power developed in me and I felt the pull myself.”

“Wait,” Aliet interrupted. Then, to Logan, “I thought you said it only developed in one son.”

Logan shrugged. “That’s what I was always told.”

Farnir chuckled again. “My father was just as surprised as you. Imagine his reaction when my older sister got the power.” He looked back at a shocked Logan, and added, “Yeah, that was just about the same look he had.”

Logan had a kind of choking cough when he first tried to speak. “Women?” he finally managed to say. “You have women slayers?”

“Not many,” Farnir admitted, “but, yes, there are a few.”

“And what,” asked Aliet, “exactly is the problem with female slayers?”

“Only that it’s never been heard of in recorded history,” Farnir answered.

“Yes!” Logan exclaimed, pointing at Farnir. “That is it, exactly. Thank you.”

“And that’s the only reason?” she pressed, looking directly at Logan.

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” he began, then quickly launched into, “I’ll have you know … whoa.” He stumbled, then dropped to a knee and put a hand to his head.

“Sorry,” Farnir said. “I should’ve warned you about that.”

Aliet rushed to Logan’s side. “What is it? What’ve you done to him?” Marcus put a hand on his sword hilt. Dartan’s hand reached for his own sword, while that new appendage reached out too. It was searching, feeling for something it could use.

“I’m fine,” Logan managed to stammer out a bit breathlessly. Unconvinced, the group remained readied. Logan bowed his head, took a few deep breaths, and then looked up at them. “Really,” he assured them. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Aliet asked. She knelt next to him, one hand on his shoulder.

“They caught me off guard,” Logan admitted. “I’ve never felt the presence of so many slayers. It was, quite frankly, overwhelming.” He took a few more deep breaths, then looked at Farnir. “You said about half the town are slayers?”

“That’s right.”

“How big is the town?”

Farnir smiled. “A lot bigger than it used to be. We were just the first to arrive, and they kept coming after us.”

“Can you feel it now?” Dartan asked. “The pull, I mean.”

Farnir was nodding before he even answered. “Yes, it always calls to us.”

Dartan looked towards Logan. “What about you, Logan? Can you feel it?”

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “No. The only thing I can sense is the presence of slayers.”

“Not all with talent hear the call,” Farnir said.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, rising back to his feet.

Farnir shrugged. “Just what it sounds like. Isn’t it obvious? Otherwise every slayer in Pavlora would be here.”

“Interesting theory,” Logan growled.

“Thanks,” Farnir answered with a smile. “It’s my father’s.”

“Right,” Logan said. “And did he have any ideas about what makes you all so special among slayers?”

Farnir simply stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Special? I’ve always considered it a curse myself.” His smile faded as he turned and began heading north again. “If you’re able, we should continue on to Kinsley now.” He didn’t slow to look back as he added, “Especially if we want to stay ahead of the Northern shadow following you.”

“You already know about them?” Dartan asked.

“There is much we already know,
apprentice
.” There was emphasis on the last word, as though it were meant as an insult.

“The wizard really has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, doesn’t he,” Logan said as he passed Dartan.

“At least with everyone except us, it seems,” Dartan countered.

“Don’t forget that little fact the next time he decides to grace us with his semipresence.”

Aliet pushed between them, catching up to Farnir, and said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, boys.” She raised her voice, making sure everyone could hear. “I’m sure by ‘we’, what he really meant was the town elders. He’s just repeating what he’s been told. Or, more likely, overheard. Isn’t that right, Farnir?”

He didn’t turn, hiding his flushed cheeks, but the color crept to his ears, betraying him from behind. He simply lowered his head and answered, “Yes, ma’am.” He stuttered only the tiniest bit, but he dared not mumble. Worse than having to admit she was right would be announcing it again, even more loudly.

She did not ask him to repeat himself, instead she flashed a wickedly satisfied grin back at Dartan and Logan. Without another word she quickly caught up with Marcus, who had taken his self-assigned post of half a step behind Farnir.