Author's Note: Due to a good suggestion, I'll soon be uploading a running guide to all the people, places, and things requiring explanation in this story, as well as a brief history of the place it happens. It will always be the last chapter, and can be used for reference. However, if you feel I'm pulling something out of left field, or don't give someone enough air time, please let me know for the next draft! Thanks for the feedback!
THE SAGA OF BOY: BOOK ONE
Chapter 16: Foundling Fire
"Rest now, there is no need to fear."
"Where am I, what is this place? Am I dead?"
"No child, you are quite alive."
"You find that funny?"
"I find many things funny, usually when others do not. But that does not stop them from being funny, it reflects only on the others listening. Now lie back and breathe. The steam from the herbs will hasten your healing."
"Where am I? Your accent is unfamiliar."
"As is your own, stranger with the long ears. No I do not pry. You are safe here. Now sleep, for you will very soon be needed. You bring our destruction in your wake, but it is no fault of yours. You also bring salvation, and sooner than you think."
His eyes flicked from the amulet in the woman's hands to the malice in her eyes.
"I can bring him to you, your beloved Marcus," she continued, "or tell you where he is, in exchange for a few baubles, certainly not worth his life."
Nathanial's hand brushed against the hilt of the sword Marcus had given him to look after. A family heirloom, he had called it. Family.
He remembered Monk, who'd trusted him at his word to protect these bits of metal with his life. He would fight to the death to keep that word, but it wasn't his own life in question now. Closing his fingers around the hilt of his brother's sword, Nathanial looked deep inside himself and found steel to match the blade in his hands. He lifted his eyes to hers.
"You would blackmail him to me, witch?" he hissed.
Every fiber of his being screamed that he was signing into death the only family he'd known since he was ten. But a small, steady voice spoke above the pain and reminded him that if Marcus was alive there was a chance, but if this woman got what she wanted she would almost certainly kill him. His voice was curiously distant and calm despite the turmoil in his guts.
"He found me once," Nathanial said, "he will find me again."
She gave him a look of sneering pity. "He would have to cross the heavens to do so."
He looked up into her eyes and saw her expression tightened warily.
"He found me once, he will find me again."
Inside of him, the spark of hope flickered and took root. He felt somehow that he would know if Marcus were dead. If he was wrong, then all he could do would be to hope that his decision now would at least be one his brother might have been proud of.
The woman straightened and tossed the amulet into the dirt at his feet. His tension was so fierce that the slight noise of metal on stone almost startled him into a scream.
"Very well then, good day to you."
Four people leapt forward at once to restrain her as she spoke an incantation and disappeared from sight. Nathanial stood frozen to the spot, staring at the amulet half buried in the dust. Lira stepped up and put a tentative hand on his shoulder, but he could not bring himself to look up. She knelt and retrieved the amulet, using her sleeve to wipe it clean.
"Be careful," Nathanial snapped suddenly and knocked it from her hand, "She could have cursed it somehow. No one touch it until we know."
He took a perverse pleasure in the shock on the faces around him at the unexpected outburst. Lira stepped away from him and threw a helpless look at the others.
Yadros was the first to break the silence. After studying the amulet curiously from a distance he stepped forward.
"I have the means to find out, if you'd like, but it will take at least an hour."
Nathanial nodded curtly, grateful for the small relief of time.
"An hour it is then," he decided quietly, "everyone stay watchful in case she sends more of her pets for us. And pack up. We leave the moment the spell is done."
He turned on one heel and marched back to the building with measured tread. Whisper met him at the door with impatient questions, but held her tongue when she caught sight of his haunted face. Leto followed close behind and pulled Whisper aside to explain. Their eyes followed Nathanial with sympathy as he marched past them both without acknowledgement. He walked until he could go no further. He had come to a dead end where the roof had collapsed into the hallway and blocked the passage. There he chose a boulder that would hide him from view and sat against it, leaning his forehead against the cool rock. After a moment of pure panicked doubt at what he'd done, Nathanial pulled his brother's sword and scabbard from his belt, and wept.
A raised murmur of voices from inside the keep crept slowly into his awareness. He realized suddenly that he'd fallen asleep and berated himself for his negligence. Opening his eyes and struggling to his feet, he cursed intently as blood flow returned to his wooden legs.
"You get used to it after a while."
He spun around and nearly fell as the muscles in his legs failed to react with anything but a sensation of tiny needles. Leto was sitting with his back to Nathanial and his own legs folded intricately on top of one another. With his usual casual grace he unfolded and rose to his feet in one swift motion.
"Stand on your toes for a moment, it will pass much faster."
Nathanial took the advice and felt sensation return painfully to his legs. He eyed Leto in some confusion, not sure whether he should resent the monk for intruding on his grief, or thank him for his help. He settled on a compromise.
"What are you doing here?"
Leto shrugged and yawned, "I didn't think anyone should be separated for long. And I knew that near you would be the only place I could go to meditate without interruption from the harpies out there."
Nathanial nodded without meeting his eyes. He strung Marcus's sword and sheath onto his belt and wiped the remains of tears from his face. Leto politely pretended to inspect the caved-in ceiling while he did so.
"Ready? It sounds like something's going on."
"Isn't there always?" Leto replied with a grin. Nathanial managed a faint smile in return and led the way back to where the group was gathered.
They found their companions embroiled in an argument at the edge of the drop where Ramses' rope still dangled. As they caught sight of him the discussion died, and Nathanial gritted his teeth against the looks of pity he received. Lira was the only one excited to see him and practically crowed with her good news. He noticed she had pinned the amulet to her own cloak.
"I take it there wasn't a curse?"
Not that our odd little mage could find," she grinned broadly and flicked the amulet with one fingernail, "just something to keep us from locating his whereabouts from it. But I do have news that might just perk you up a bit: I've found Marcus's tracks."
Nathanial's head snapped up and he gave her a keen stare.
"Are you sure?"
"Course I'm sure," she asserted with flippant indignation, "They stand out as bright as day. I do have to say for such a great tracker he wasn't too worried about being followed himself, was he? Shall we?" She gestured down at the pit they had descended into days ago in search of Ramses.
Nathanial felt an eerie synchronicity between that trip and the one proposed. He could only hope for a different outcome. With held breath and a nod he took hold of Ramses' rope and slid carefully down into the darkness.
He closed his eyes before striking an alchemical light, creating a red flash on the inside of his eyelid that outlined the thin tracery of blood in the skin. He felt something impact the ground beside him and looked to find Leto turned and ready to catch Hooch. The dog followed, and others began to climb cautiously down the rope. Lira took a moment to study the ground before setting off briskly with her eyes glued to the floor.
Without Lira's newfound ability to see the tracks of their quarry, they never would have found the door hidden cleverly behind the remains of a tattered wall hanging. The light of the room was such that it lay in shadow, and no trace of magic alerted those sensitive to it. They stepped through and found themselves outside the wall of the keep, looking up at a forested canopy. Nathanial uttered a curse under his breath foul enough to shock even Whisper.
"We're outside…" he said unnecessarily, "we've been waiting this whole time and they haven't even been in the keep."
"I hope," Whisper scolded him, "this will teach you to follow orders when you've been given them. If so we would have caught up to them by now."
She turned and found, to her disgruntlement, that she was lecturing to thin air. The retreating sound of running footsteps echoed back to her from inside the keep. She repeated the curse Nathanial had used before and hurried after him.
The newcomers had caught the urgency of the situation, and did not hesitate to follow them through the gates and along the outside wall of the keep. Lira had given Nathanial's horse a skeptical look when he tossed her the reins, but rode with the ease of past familiarity. The animal was the same one he had chosen from Monk's stable, and hd proven to be quiet and well-mannered. Nathanial soon stopped worrying about her when found himself entirely occupied with Marcus's warhorse.
An uncanny intelligence shone in the horse's eyes, although he was not above shying stupidly at every falling leaf to test his rider. Nathanial needed every bit of skill he'd ever picked up in stables he'd worked for to stay in the saddle and keep the big racer from leaving the others far behind. He soon found that the animal responded only to commands in Marcus's native language, although he seemed to understand the insults directed at him in the common tongue. Any attempts at physical force or punishment earned a snap of teeth at the toe of his boot.
Lira kept her eyes on the ground in near indifference to her speed and direction, slowing occasionally to change directions as Marcus's tracks doubled back closely on the tricky Dwarf's. She reined in to a stop as they emerged from the woods into a wide, sunny meadow. Nathanial blinked furiously against the sudden glare of light, then wrestled the horse back to where the others had pulled up. Lira had dismounted and let the reins fall the the ground. With calm practicality the Paladin leaned over and took up her horse's reins to prevent the animal from straying. Lira hardly noticed as she paced up and down the length of the meadow with a hard frown of fierce concentration. When she crouched down to touch the ground where the grasses were matted and trampled, Nathanial began to fidget with impatience. When she rose, she looked at her fingertips with such pain that he could no longer stand to wait.
"Well?" he said with an explosion of breath.
She looked up at him with dread on her face and scrubbed her fingers against the leg of her breeches.
"He entered the field over there. He and the Dwarf were both running so he may have been close on his heels."
Taking up a stalk of wild wheat to point with, she gestured from one end of the field to another.
"Over there, a rider entered the field and rode into the fight. The Dwarf's tracks continue on, but Marcus's do not."
She stood abruptly and strode to a place where the ground had been torn up in great clumps and scattered.
"They fought, Marcus pulled the rider off their horse."
She moved abruptly back to the area of matted grass. Her hand hovered over the spot as if wanting to touch it again, yet reluctant to know what she would find. She looked down to avoid meeting Nathanial's eyes.
"This…this is where Marcus fell."
A ringing in his ears began, and Nathanial rejected the words he had heard, "What do you mean, fell?" he asked with a catch in his breath.
Lira finally met his eyes, and the sympathy in her gaze was almost more than Nathanial could bear.
"You know what I mean, Boy…..he was struck down. The ground is soaked with his blood…wait," she interrupted herself, "there's more tracks, other riders?"
She stalked off to the north with the same intensity she had shown before.
"There's more tracks…It looks like a whole group of riders, but it isn't any easier to read. I don't know how long after…when they came in, but they pause where Marcus fell, and they returned North. They might have taken the body."
"The body!" Nathanial exclaimed, "Why would they take a dead body? He must still be alive!"
"Unless, of course," Yadros offered casually, "they are of a cannibal race of some ki-"
He was cut off abruptly as Whisper hooked one foot behind his and deftly tipped him halfway out of the saddle. His horse jittered restlessly under the sudden imbalance, and he clung helplessly to the side until the half-orc Kujo picked him up easily by one arm and set him back in the saddle where he belonged.
"Stay there," he grunted in admonishment.
Yadros nodded his thanks and gave Whisper a puzzled, accusatory look, which she pointedly refused to acknowledge.
Gamaliel held a conversation with Hugin in low murmurs. The raven nodded his head sharply and launched himself from his master's shoulder. When he was out of sight Gamaliel turned to the others in explanation.
"He will find where these riders came from, and their numbers. It is never wise to rush into an unknown situation."
Nathanial reluctantly acknowledged the truth of that, but seethed with impatience nevertheless. It seemed to last a year, but it was only a few moments before Hugin returned with news.
"There is a village of tents in a valley just beyond the trees," he reported, "but I don't think you want to go there."
"Why is that?" Whisper demanded.
"Because it's on fire."
Memories of Whitefall flashed through Nathanial's head, and before the others could speak he was urging the horse towards the north at a breakneck gallop.
He didn't notice the branches whipping his face as they passed through a short line of trees. The horse, finally free of restraint, seemed to fly over the rough ground with hooves barely skimming the earth. As they crested a low rise and broke from the line of trees, Nathanial saw the tent village of a caravan spread before him.
The reins nearly pulled his arms from his socket before he managed to slow to a restless halt. Nathanial surveyed the chaotic scene before him in confusion. Tribesmen on small, swift horses dodged the swing of spiked clubs from ogres towering above them. The agile horses and riders danced in to score the ogres' armor with cunningly wielded short-spears. The legless creatures that had set fire to Whitefall crawled amongst the smoking tents while a group of women tried to hold them off by swinging sticks and pots. Another group of women and older youths passed water from a stream to battle the fire itself. And in the center of the village rose the head of a giant, crushing the bodies of tribesmen with twin clubs, each the size of a well-grown horse.
"Nathanial!" came the cry behind him as the others caught up to where he had stayed the horse. Whisper pulled up to one side of him and surveyed the scene with a dispassionate eye.
"Give the items to Lira, she'll keep them away from the fight and out of danger," she ordered briskly. Nathanial fumbled for his beltpouch and tossed it to the bard.
"Those are important, so if anything but us comes near you, run." Whisper barked to her as Lira stowed the pouch in her saddlebag.
Lira gave a mocking salute with apparent relief and wheeled her horse back towards the cover of trees, "You don't have to tell me twice."
Whisper spurred her horse towards the battle with her falchion drawn. The Paladin and Kujo followed swiftly.
"Ye ken, ah think tha beech has been lookin farward ta this fer weeks." Ta'arnkop drawled.
There was a strangled sound from Gamaliel's shoulder as Hugin resisted the impulse to repeat the curse. After a moment of struggle he was successful and settled proudly back. Nathanial looked at him thoughtfully a moment, an idea blossoming in his head.
"Ta'arnkop," he said slowly, "remember the message tube?"
"Aye. Wha' fer?"
"If it's broken, the sorceress is drawn to it, right?"
"Tha's wha' tha lizard sayd."
"So what if it were dropped a mile from the battle?"
Ta'arnkop nodded briskly and rummaged in his pack for the sorceress's message tube. Nathanial turned back to Gamaliel.
"May we borrow Hugin?"
"I can see your intention and it is acceptable to me."
"Whaaa?" Squawked Hugin as he launched himself from his master's shoulder and landed on a branch safely out of reach, "what if it's not acceptable to me?"
"Weell then," Ta'arnkop drawled, "ye'd ratha fight wi'us then?"
He held the message tube out on the palm of his hand. Hugin looked at him suspiciously.
"Or," Nathanial added, "You could take the tube and fly away from the battle. All you have to do is drop it and return."
The bird cocked its head to one side, studying the tube.
"Just drop it?" he asked plaintively.
"That's all," Nathanial re-assured him, "and from a good height. If it summons the sorceress she won't even be able to see you."
"I have the feeling," Hugin muttered as he spread his wings, "that I'll regret this."
He snatched the tube neatly from Ta'arnkop's hand and began to climb into the air. Gamaliel watched him go with his usual cryptic calm, then turned back to face the battle.
"I do not participate in violence," he said to their surprise, "but I will pray for those who's cause is just."
Ta'arnkop looked ready to explode in scornful outrage at the idea of prayer being any help. It was lucky that he was interrupted before he could manage more than a few words.
"Well Well! Now there's a familiar face!"
They all snapped their heads around, weapons half-drawn. Yadros was staring intently at the far end of the village with a slight smile on his face that never reached his eyes. Nathanial followed his gaze and saw the Sorceress herself, leading a wedge of ogres towards a single tent set slightly apart from the others. His mind leapt to the possibility that Marcus lay in that tent, and that she somehow knew. With a growled oath he drew his Morningstar and booted his horse in that direction. The animal lay its ears back and bucked once in protest of the rough treatment, but broke obligingly into a run. Nathanial clung to the horse's mane and shouted to it in his other tongue, "If you wish to save your master you will keep that woman from the tent!"
Whether the horse understood him or simply responded to his hatred, he picked up speed as he approached the battleground. Nathanial's respect for the animal rose to new heights as he wove between the ranks of ogres and somehow avoided the deadly rain of arrows. One caught him a glancing blow that left a deep gash in his side, but he barely felt it through the battle-high that had taken hold of him. His eyes were locked on the woman striding towards the lonely tent with a sneer of triumph. It was only when his sight of her was interrupted by a falling body that he tore his gaze upwards to what stood between him and his target.
The braver tribesmen rode in a circle around the giant. With reins held in their teeth they fired a wave of arrows into its hide like tiny needles, maddening the creature further. No one had yet drawn real blood on the giant, yet several dozen bodies of both tribesmen and horses lay crushed and forgotten at its feet. Its eyes locked on the small figure racing towards him and it gave a bellow of challenge.
Nathanial was prepared, and knew his Morningstar would be useless here. He reached into the recesses of his mind for the power that had incapacitated the spider of chains in the keep. He built up the pressure in his mind until it became unbearable; warm drops of blood began to fall from his nose and were whipped across his face by the rushing wind. With an answering roar he lashed the power out at the creature before him, feeling it penetrate the flesh and strike at the simple mind. As he rode past, the giant gave a long groan and toppled forward onto its face. Tribesmen rushed to avoid being crushed by the fall and a high, ringing cheer sounded out across the battlefield. The mounted archers turned their attention to the ranks of ogres and the tide of battle began to turn. The sorceress turned in surprise as the guards behind her fell under the onslaught, and caught the impact of Nathanial's morningstar across one cheekbone as he rode to meet her.
With a shriek of rage spraying blood from her mouth, she lifted her hands and directed a spell at Nathanial that knocked him from the saddle. He rolled quickly to avoid being trampled by the war-maddened horse and struggled to his feet still gripping the handle of his weapon. The sorceress's ogre guards caught the attention of the horse and drew the fight away from their mistress, squealing in pain as they were battered by sharpened hooves. Nathanial met the woman's eyes without fear, and a slow glittering smile of malice returned to her face.
"Little boys should not play the games of men."
With a growl he lifted his morningstar with trembling hands. She raised her arms and hurled a new spell in his direction. He braced himself for the impact, but it never came. There was a blinding flash of light in front of him and a light smell of sulfur hung in the air.
"Now really, how impolite of you," a familiar voice said from behind him. He heard Yadros step to one side of him, leaving a clear shot. The woman's eyes narrowed at this unexpected interference and followed Yadros warily. He continued to circle her slowly away from Nathanial, drawing her gaze. She gave a sudden movement of her hands and another flash of light burned in front of her without effect. She gritted her teeth and carefully spit blood onto the ground.
"Well done magician, well done. Now we only have to find out how many spells you have in your power. I need only find one you cannot counter."
"Likewise I'm sure. Shall we find out? It would at least be amusing."
His movement was blindingly fast and he spoke no words, but another flash of light stopped the intended effect. When her back was finally to Nathanial he raised the morningstar and stepped in. Sensing the attack, her attention was suddenly divided between the two. Nathanial swung the morningstar with a cry as Yadros raised his hands to cast, but the weapon met only air and the spell shot past Nathanial's left shoulder. Behind him a tree exploded in a shower of bark, but he could only stare numbly at the place where the sorceress had stood a moment before. Yadros muttered a curse, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Nathanial turned and saw the remains of a smoky pillar rising to the sky.
"The message tube…." he wailed to himself, "why did he have to drop it now?"
He drove his morningstar into the ground with a blow that numbed his hands. Leaving it there he stumbled towards the tent. He pulled the flap to one side and stared numbly through the mist that seemed to fill it. There was a small brazier in the center emitting strange perfumed smoke. An old man sat cross-legged before it in a loincloth, his belongings arranged neatly on a nearby cot. There was no sign of Marcus.