The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) (19 page)

Scratching Wolf scratched his thigh, deciding not to correct Flaming Arrow, knowing the young man would believe what he wanted to believe. “Certainly, you
have
stopped their banditry for awhile, Lord Heir.”

“Now we'll grind their faces into the dust,” Flaming Arrow said.

“No matter what you do, Lord, the Tiger Fortress will always be a thorn in your foot,” Probing Gaze said, looking off toward the fortress twenty miles to the north.

* * *

Flaming Arrow scowled, hating the reminder. Probing Gaze was right. Until he destroyed it, the Tiger Fortress would be a thorn in his foot. “How would
you
destroy the fortress, Lord Gaze?”

“Promise them the Northern Imperial Sword when I become Emperor, in return for non-aggression now, Lord Heir.”

“That's treason!” Scratching Wolf said, incensed.

“We have to consider all ideas to solve this problem, Lord Wolf,” Flaming Arrow said. “Lord Gaze, I said 'destroy' not compromise.”

“You can't destroy it, Lord Heir, so you must compromise it.”

“The Empire would denounce me as a traitor for suggesting it.”

“Only Seeking Sword needs to know, eh Lord? Isn't he the leader now that Scowling Tiger's dead? Didn't Scowling Tiger tell you that he had as much as betrothed Seeking Sword to his daughter? Wasn't he planning to invest him with command of the Tiger Fortress?”

“He implied he thought Seeking Sword able to command. Scowling Tiger never said Seeking Sword would command the fortress itself. 'Yes, Seeking Sword, you
are
the man to lead the bandits to their destiny,' is what Scowling Tiger said to me,” Flaming Arrow said, his voice taking on the accent common to the region.

“All this is moot,” Scratching Wolf said. “Even if this bandit scum Seeking Sword takes command of the fortress, how could he order the raids to stop without a grumble from every bandit beneath him? Besides, Lord Gaze, he's not fool enough to believe that the Lord Heir will relinquish the Imperial Sword, eh? If he did, he's not worthy of command.”

Probing Gaze nodded, then looked directly at Scratching Wolf, his superior.

Annoyed that they had lapsed into telepathic communication, Flaming Arrow reminded himself who they were and what they had done. Both had survived five-year tours as bandit spies. Both knew the geography of the Windy Mountains extensively. Bandits regarded both as dangerous and unpredictable. Both had an encyclopedic knowledge of bandits. Both loved killing them. For all these qualities, and for their uncompromising loyalty, Flaming Arrow realized he would tolerate almost any behavior from them. Still, he wished he knew the content of their psychic exchange.

“Lord Heir,” Probing Gaze said, “I was watching the area north of the fortress when you and the girl came out of it. I watched you fight several bandits in the ravine, seeing only the positions and expenditures of the bandits trying to stop you. The individual motions didn't register in my sectathonic sight, of course. I saw the girl disappear when you took her head. Moments later, Lord Heir, I saw something highly unusual.”

Probing Gaze paused, staring off to the north. “From beyond the range of my talent came a beam of power so narrow it almost escaped my notice. It connected with you. You began to use several talents to defeat the bandits blocking your escape. The beam stayed with you as you traveled westward. I triangulated to get a fix on the source of the beam—ten to twenty miles south of Seat, I estimate.”

“That's more than a hundred miles!”

“Yes, Lord, and that's impossible except with a talisman such as the Heir or Imperial Swords. Yes, Lord, and that also coincides with the interval you can't remember.

“There's another complication. You said a bandit injured you on the arm. From what I can determine, every bandit or Imperial Warrior between the fortress and the source of the beam exhibits a wound similar to yours and a mental aberration that reopens the wound once healed.

“I'll leave the analysis, Lord Heir, to the Lord Wizard Eagle. If I may venture a hypothesis, and I stress only a hypothesis? Someone with a talisman sent the beam in such a way that the Heir Sword asserted control over you. Your latent talents helped you escape what looked to be a sure death.”

“How wide was the beam where it intercepted him, Lord Gaze?”

“Two inches in diameter, Lord Wolf.”

“What would you have to do to focus your talent into a two-inch beam?” the General asked, disbelief on his face.

“I'd have to have a talisman, Lord Wolf. Despite being one of the better sectathons around, I can't narrow my beam any smaller than three inches at five miles.”

“Perhaps the Sword merely refocused this power, Lord Gaze,” Flaming Arrow said, “instead of drawing on my 'latent' talents.”

“If it had, Lord, I'd have seen the beam change composition. The frequencies never changed. They remained in the telepathic band. Also, Lord, a distinct exchange occurred. While the beam supplied you with power, you—or the Sword—communicated with the source.”

“More energy flowed toward me than away?”

“Yes, Lord Heir.”

“We don't know anyone who has a talisman or that intensity of talent either, eh?”

“No, Lord Heir,” Scratching Wolf answered. “Snarling Jaguar, however, has twice come to his son's aid in just such a manner. Of course, that was in the Southern Empire. While such a feat is well within an Emperor's capabilities, there isn't a Northern Emperor. The Imperial Swords only work
that
well when used within the borders of that Empire, not beyond them.”

Flaming Arrow continued to search for an explanation that ruled out his having talent. He hadn't ever had one and doubted he ever would. “Weren't our warriors investing Seat? Who among them, Lord Wolf, has such a talent?”

“The Lords Eagle and Hand certainly have everything but talismans, Lord Heir. Wasn't the Lord Bear with them also? I've seen his talent perform tasks I thought impossible. In his diminished state, I doubt he's capable.”

“I've never seen anything diminish the Lord Bear's capabilities,” Flaming Arrow said.

Scratching Wolf guffawed, his face to the sky.

The Heir smiled, wondering as did an Empire if Guarding Bear were fooling them all. “What about these wounds, Lord Gaze?”

“I've seen nothing like them before, Lord Heir. A Wizard told me a little about it, said the aberration was like an implant in its effect on each person. To affect hundreds, bandit and Easterner alike! Didn't you tell us, Lord, that Easing Comfort healed your injuries?”

“So he
said
, Lord Gaze. I was asleep when he did it. The girl Thinking Quick did heal my headache.”

“Well, you
still
don't register on my sectathonic sight, Lord. I have to wonder if you do have talents and if they're showing themselves finally.”

Flaming Arrow nodded and yawned, feeling tired despite twelve hours of sound sleep.

“A pronounced need for sleep,” Scratching Wolf said, “usually follows excessive psychic exertion.” He and Probing Gaze exchanged a glance. “Which bandit now, Lord Heir?”

“Bucking Stag, Lord Wolf. Lord Gaze, I foresee some difficulties. Nearly all the members of his band are Westerners, with blue-black hair and epicanthic eyes. Two 'round eyes' like ourselves might as well have signs on our backs that say 'kill me.' ”

“I've thought about that, Lord. What if we posed as slaves? Bucking Stag's band is full of them, Easterners and Southerners both. I've always wondered why they don't revolt.”

“They will, Lord Gaze, very soon,” Flaming Arrow said, grinning. Another yawn struck him. Fatigue settled on him like lead weight.

“Go to bed, Lord Heir,” Scratching Wolf said peremptorily.

Flaming Arrow nodded and stood, tottered a moment but kept his feet. Yawning again, he nodded to acknowledge the others' obeisances and headed for the stairs. Descending from the battlement, he had to stop and sit down to wait for his weariness to pass. At the heavily guarded room, he nodded to the bowing sentries and nearly stumbled. Gentle hands steadied him and helped him to bed.

He slept before they got him there.

Dawn was an hour away.

T
he psychic storms frightened us all. We didn't know
what
to think. One moment the frequencies were peaceful, and the next they'd be pure chaos. It's not that the content was horrifying, although it was. What really shook us to the very cores of our souls was the way the storms wiped away nearly all other sensory information. We couldn't see, we couldn't hear, we couldn't feel. I'd heard fisher-folk from Cove tell of being in hurricanes, which sounded so much more
tame
…

…We waited in the shielded fortress, holding our collective breath. Through small shield perforations, rapathons outside transmitted into the fortress a running account in vivid visual imagery. Imperial Warriors seemed to be overwhelming the Lord Sword's small band. Then, in the thickest of the fighting, the world split asunder, and all Infinite broke loose.—
Personal Accounts of Events before the Fall
, by Keeping Track.

* * *

Dawn was an hour away.

Seeking Sword and four others conferred on the best course of action. Between them and the fortress were nearly two hundred Imperial Warriors, in groups of various sizes. The distance to the fortress was too great to send a psychic call for help. The five of them would somehow have to fight their way through the warriors.

Surprisingly, they had lost only two men despite fairly heavy resistance. They estimated they had killed thirty or so warriors, some of them bandits seeking a misplaced vengeance. Searching Owl and a medacor whom Slithering Snake had brought from the fortress were dead. Both men had died well, Searching Owl with two arrows in his abdomen and a third in his shoulder and still fighting.

Seeking Sword reminded himself to see that they received all the ceremony accorded the valorous.

“We think you should go on to the fortress alone, Lord Sword,” Flashing Blade said.

“I think that's cowardly and dishonorable. It surprises me you'd even consider it, Lords,” he replied to them all. “
I
certainly won't.”

“But, Lord Sword, you're the one they want, but they can't see you. It would only be—”

“Forget it, Lords,” he interrupted. “I'd rather die at your side than abandon you to
their
rusty blades. We fight together or we slit our bellies together. Which is it?”

“Fight!” they all said as one.

“Good,” Seeking Sword said. “Lord Snake, how large is the nearest group and how long until they get here?”

“Fifteen warriors, Lord Sword. I estimate three minutes.”

“All right. We'll lay an ambush for them. Find their most likely approach, Lord Snake. You four will act as decoys while I lay in wait. Who here is the least skilled with a bow? I'll need your quiver, Lord.” Seeking Sword took the proffered quiver and slung it over his shoulder.

“The warriors almost have to come between those two trees and along that trail, Lord Sword.” Slithering Snake pointed. “Behind that rock up there?”

Seeking Sword looked. On the small rise behind their location was an outcrop large enough to conceal a man. Nodding, he said, “Perfect, Lord Snake. If they don't all approach along the trail, you'll have to signal me somehow.”

Slithering Snake picked up two rocks and pounded them together. “Right, pause, then the number of warriors going that way.” He pounded twice. “Left, pause, then the number going that way.”

“Won't they home in on you?”

“Someone has to do it, Lord Sword. Hurry, they're approaching!”

“Positions, everyone. Infinite be with you!” Two quivers on his back, Seeking Sword retreated up the slope and concealed himself behind the outcrop, preparing the position from which he would shoot. He took his bearings, sighting along the trail between two trees.

Clack, pause, clack, clack, clack. Three warriors to the right.

Clack, clack, pause, clack, clack, clack. Three to the left.

Nine then on the main assault, three on each flank. Down in the clearing, dim bandit shapes rearranged themselves in preparation.

There! The first warrior appeared on the trail, fifteen paces beyond the trees. In rapid succession, five more warriors appeared behind the first. Three, then, were in reserve.

When the first warrior reached the trail-break, Seeking Sword aimed and loosed, firing six arrows rapidly. Four sank home. He had mistimed one arrow and the target had deflected the other.

Screams of the dying filled the night.

Underneath the noise, Seeking Sword heard motion in brush to the right flank. He launched two arrows and one scream rewarded him. To the left flank was a sound. He spun and loosed an arrow. The gasp and curse helped his next arrow find a home in the mouth of the warrior. Slithering Snake signaled again, one warrior right and two left. In the long pause that followed, Seeking Sword listened, grateful Imperial Warriors were so clumsy in the woods.

Suddenly, Slithering Snake signaled three times.

Seeking Sword looked down the trail. The reserves had committed themselves. With three arrows, he killed two and wounded the third, then spun and launched two arrows to his left. From his right, a funnel of flame engulfed him, the heat washing past him without effect. He loosed an arrow directly into the fire. The burning arrow found the pyrathon's forehead, quenching his flame.

Four times the sectathon signaled. “Hold off, Lord Sword, we have 'em now!”

Seeking Sword dropped the bow and drew his sword, jumping down to his left. A warrior sprang from behind a bush. He sidestepped and hacked off the arms and head with one stroke. Like a cat he moved left, not knowing how many he had killed or merely wounded with arrows.

The warrior he tracked was comfortable in the forest. Seeking Sword arrived where the warrior had been moments before without having heard him depart. Not until Slithering Snake ordered him back did he realize the warrior had eluded him completely. He stopped at the outcrop for his bow, then joined the others.

“Let's move while we can, Lords. We don't gloat until we're safe. Lead us, Lord Snake!”

While they traveled, their pace their maximum, Flashing Blade said, “You dispatched ten of them just by yourself, Lord Sword. Great shooting!”

“Thank you, Lord Blade. How did the Lord Finger get his?”

“One of those bastards froze him.”

Fifteen minutes later, Slithering Snake said, “The next group, about thirty of them, have decided to take us on, Lord Sword. What now?”

“They probably saw the last encounter, so an ambush won't work. Are they preparing to ambush
us
?”

“They've spread out on either side of the north-south road, Lord.”

“Looks like an ambush, eh? Any suggestions, Lords?”

No one had any; the situation looked hopeless.

“Too far still to transmit for help, I take it. What will they least expect?”

“A frontal assault, Lord Sword,” Flashing Blade said.

“Then that's what we'll do, Lords.”

Everyone protested, of course.

“Either that or we slit our bellies. Let me tell you why. The Lord Snake and his two companions were the only ones who left the fortress in the last twenty-four hours.” Seeking Sword paused to breath, his feet pounding the packed dirt of the road in the pre-dawn light. “The Heir's an excellent strategist. He stationed these Imperial Warriors here for the sole purpose of intercepting us as we try to return to the fortress.”

“How do you know that?” Slithering Snake asked.

“I just do. Either we fight our way through them or we don't get to the fortress. Any alternatives, Lords?”

They had none.

“Fall back, Lord Snake—
I'll
take the lead.”

“I can't let you do that, Lord Sword. In fact, you'll take the rear. Hurry, Lord Sword. Two minutes to contact. Bows armed, everyone. When we're too close for bows, draw your swords.” Slithering Snake then arranged the four of them in the order best suited for the assault.

Those two minutes seemed to last an eternity.

Arrows hissed at them from the flanks. One dropped the rapathon immediately and another sliced open Seeking Sword's right calf.

Senses heightened by danger and pain, he marked the positions of six warriors by the trajectory of their arrows. He leapt over the fallen rapathon and launched three arrows. Ahead, Flashing Blade seared two warriors and spun as an arrow caught him through the shoulder. Slithering Snake tossed away his bow and pulled his sword, then dispatched the first two of twenty warriors rushing to engage the bandits. Seeking Sword leaped into the fray, his blade whirling. With his good arm, Flashing Blade joined them, cutting viciously, the speed of his sword renown, his name earned.

For a long time, it seemed, the three men held their ground, the bodies at their feet restricting their motion. The first rays of sun penetrated forest.

Three warriors charged as a group, screaming, “Aaarrrooowww!” and hurling themselves at Seeking Sword.

The Bandit thought he was—

* * *

—dead if he didn't erect a psychic wall. The warriors looked surprised just before he froze them. The bodies piling up around the three bandits proved useful. He hurled them at the attacking warriors, opening a path for himself and the two men with him. The cut on his right calf was quite deep. Without effort he healed himself.

A company of blue-and-white clad warriors hit them with the full force of their combined talents. Reflexively, he converted the energy, augmented it and transformed the warriors into statues of stone. Guarding Bear would have been proud.

During the brief respite, one of his companions stumbled, an arrow taking him in the shoulder. He placed his hand on the feathered shaft and willed it to come out painlessly. Then he repaired the shoulder as he had his own calf.

As they pushed through the crowd of statues, so thick they had to topple a few to get through, he scanned the area and found a hundred warriors on their flanks. A group of fifty on each side converged to intercept them.

Behind him, the sectathon tried to signal for help from the fortress ahead, but received no reply. The three of them would have to escape the Imperial Warriors on their own.

Feeling the warriors' probes from either side, he quickly evaluated and fashioned a psychic cloak. Unlike a shield, the cloak didn't stop the probes, but instead deceived the warriors to perceive what was on the other side of the three bandits. The two groups of warriors began to close, the commanders of the detachments puzzled by the sudden disappearance of their quarry.

Knowing they were close and would soon physically sight the three bandits, he projected an illusion of them lagging far behind the reality.

Imperceptible now, they needed only to get to the fortress.

He recognized landmarks in the lightening day. They were on the infrequently traveled north-south road, approaching the crossroads.

There! Above the trees peeked the twin towers guarding the ravine.

From both sides, Imperial Warriors converged on the illusion a hundred paces behind the bandits. He concentrated, changing the projection to make each group of warriors look to the other group like bandits. Like wolves in a pen of unguarded sheep, Imperial Warrior fell upon Imperial Warrior. The slaughter began.

Laughing as they plunged between twin towers, the three bandits entered the ravine that served as the main access to the Tiger Fortress. They were finally—

Flaming Arrow screamed before he opened his eyes. He pushed the (sectathon) blankets off him. Probing Gaze opened the door and stepped in. Bolting toward the open door, the Heir embraced the (pyrathon) sectathon, nearly hysterical with (relief) panic. Stumbling around the (ravine) room as if drunk, he (screamed) ransacked the place, searching for he knew not what.

Probing Gaze limped toward the (metal) wooden door, a cut on his right calf, an expression of (exhilaration) horror on his face.

Flaming Arrow's (enthusiasm) panic subsided. His own right calf was without injury. It was an hour after dawn. The Heir's mind left him.

* * *

—dead, but found himself running through a narrow, familiar ravine, which widened. Ahead he saw metal doors set in stone. He stumbled and two others immediately trampled him. Laughing now, Seeking Sword pushed the (blankets) sectathon off him. Wondering how they had escaped certain death, he embraced the (sectathon) pyrathon, nearly hysterical with (panic) relief. Stumbling around the (room) ravine as if drunk, the Bandit (ransacked) screamed with exhilaration, “We're alive!” again and again, embracing first Slithering Snake and then Flashing Blade. Both of them were laughing as well.

Slithering Snake limped toward the (wooden) metal door, a cut on his right calf, an expression of (horror) exhilaration on his face.

Seeking Sword's (panic) enthusiasm subsided. His own right calf was without injury. It was an hour after dawn. Waves of weariness washed over him, nearly inundating his mind. Why do I feel so tired? he wondered.

He looked toward Flashing Blade, whose calf had an injury like the sectathon's. Not knowing how his own calf had healed, his companions' similar wounds bothered him.

The metal door clanged open. First came the Wizard-medacor Easing Comfort, his face haggard. Seeking Sword guessed he had been busy. Then Raging River stepped out, a detail of six guards behind him.

While the medacor treated the other two men, Seeking Sword approached Raging River.

They bowed to each other as equals.

Watching the other man carefully, the Bandit said, “Now that the Lord Tiger and the Lady Quick are dead, Lord River, there's no one to order you to desist when your sword sings for my blood. Now there's only
you
, Lord River.”

The small man with iron-gray hair snarled, “Eh? What do you mean, there's only me?” The impertinence in the rough, gravelly voice was enough to warrant instant death.

Seeking Sword expected such behavior from the incorrigible old man. “Either you're with me, Lord River, or you'll take my head now, as you've wanted since we met. You've served one master all your life. Now he's gone. Yet you can serve him still—by avenging his death. Need I tell you, Lord River, the mayhem I'll cause our enemies with this face and this hair? Help me, Lord, and avenge your master. Slay me, Lord, and never will you avenge Scowling Tiger.