Mordecai by Michael G. Manning
Don’t worry, came Myra’s mental voice, the body of a spellbeast is much harder to destroy than one of flesh and blood. You made the right decision.
The strangers finished their walk, stopping five feet away. I met their sub-commander’s eyes squarely, though they were nearly two feet lower than my own. Most of his face was obscured by a metal helmet that covered his head and cheeks, leaving only a wide gap for his eyes and mouth. His skin was a dark brown and appeared thick and rough, almost like cow-hide. When he opened his lips to speak, a long series of clicks and strange staccato sounds emerged.
He greets you as an unknown enemy of indeterminate social standing, Myra told me.
“You are also unknown to me. I would like to know why you have entered my lands in such a threatening manner,” I said aloud, but before Myra could attempt to relay my meaning the sub-commander gasped, his eyes narrowing as though I had offered some offense.
He seems shocked, Myra explained. He thinks you have used a type of language reserved for intimate communication with a lover.
Well, that’s inconvenient, I replied. So, they do use words of some sort, but not for day to day talk?
Myra nodded. That seems to be the case.
Spreading my arms wide in a gesture meant to convey peaceful intentions, I spoke again, “We mean you no harm.”
That earned me a rapid-fire burst of strange sounds between the sub-commander and his two guards.
They’re trying to decide if you’re deliberately insulting them, said Myra.
This was pointless. Try to connect directly with his mind, I told her. We’ll never get anywhere like this. You can relay my thoughts directly to him.
I felt her aythar begin to move as a thin line stretched out to connect Myra to the enemy sub-commander, but before anything could be relayed, the man began to scream.
It wasn’t a scream in the human sense, for it sounded more like the squeal an injured pig might make, high pitched and ear-piercing in its volume. Without hesitation, the two enemy guards stepped forward, their axes flashing toward me and Myra.
Thorn knocked one axe away before it even reached my shield, and Gram’s backstroke dipped down below the enemy shield before flying upward. Both of the strange man’s arms were severed, and a portion of his helmet went flying as the impossibly sharp sword, driven by Gram’s unnatural strength, tore through his flesh and armor.
My reaction was slower, but not by much. I used my power to slam all three of them away with a blast of pure force, but the result was underwhelming. My magic should have struck them like a battering ram, but instead it fell apart, skittering across their bodies and draining away like water from a duck.
The other guard’s axe slammed into Myra, ripping through her shield and cutting her magical body nearly in half. I felt her pain screaming in my head as she collapsed. Then I saw him lift the axe again, glaring at me with coal-black eyes.
Enraged, I let a single word fall from my lips, “Pyrren.” Burn. I already knew my magic wouldn’t touch him directly, so I ignited the air around him, pouring my strength into it until the heat threatened to blister my skin just from standing so close to him.
The guard screamed briefly as his body was charred and blackened, but the heat stole the breath from his lungs almost immediately. He slumped, dying in front of me, and I saw that the sub-commander had fled during the commotion. Gram stopped short of chasing him, for the enemy crossbowmen were leveling their weapons at us. Muttering a command, Gram changed his greatsword to a one-hander and shield.
That bastard isn’t getting away! I cursed mentally. Reaching toward him with one hand I used my power to rip the earth upward from beneath the sub-commander’s feet in a solid chunk. Then I used it to propel him violently back toward us. The enemy leader sailed through the air over our heads to slam into the castle shield fifty yards behind us. He struck the solid wall of magic and slid to the ground, unmoving.
Pain flared in my left leg, below the knee, then again in my right shoulder. The sound of missiles striking metal rang in my ears as Gram’s shield stopped the majority of the crossbow quarrels fired at us. Looking down I saw that two had gotten past him; one had gone completely through my leg while the other was buried in my chest. The enemy crossbowmen were spread out in a line that was far too long for Gram to protect me from those firing from the ends.
Somehow the missiles had passed through my personal shield without breaking it. How did they do that? There was no time to think, though. The front line was charging toward us, hungry to avenge their fallen sub-commander.
That suited me just fine.
The sight of a large armed force charging directly at you isn’t something most people ever see. In fact, it’s a profoundly frightening experience, but my life was such that it wasn’t my first time to witness it, and I was too angry to give a damn. I didn’t let my rage make me stupid, though. I had a number of possible actions I could take, ranging from reckless to ineffective. Tossing those aside, I dipped one hand into my pouch and brought out a large handful of my old favorites, the iron bombs. Flinging them into the air, I used my power to spread them in a wide arc, settling them in amongst the enemy before I detonated them.
It wasn’t the most devastating thing I could have done to them, but it cost me little and it would buy me time.
The explosions sent shockwaves through the air and sent bodies flying in every direction. In the seconds that followed, only Gram remained on his feet, for I had fallen unceremoniously on my ass. To my right I saw Myra struggling to rise, her aythar body having already reformed. She looked weaker, but she was intact. I just needed to get her to safety.
“Back, Gram! We need to get back to the wall!” I shouted, but the young knight didn’t react to my words. He can’t hear me, I realized. From long experience, I had learned to always shield my own ears when using the iron bombs, but Gram hadn’t had the benefit of that protection. He was probably deaf. Fortunately, Myra realized it just as quickly.
We’re retreating, Gram, she announced, broadcasting her thoughts to both of us.
Then I saw the enemy scrambling to their feet. A few of them didn’t rise, but only those that had been closest to the blasts. Most of them were getting up. It was hard to believe how incredibly tough their bodies were. Behind me, I felt the shield gate open. Matthew or Moira had decided to open it, probably to rescue us.
It’ll be a bloodbath if they get in, I thought. With my children fighting, we might win, but the cost would undoubtedly be high. Pushing Myra ahead of me, I started toward the gate. Knowing my stubborn offspring, they wouldn’t close the gate again until we made it back.
The enemy was not only resilient, they recovered faster. Charging toward us on their short, thick legs, they would reach us before we made it.
Gram came to the same conclusion, and he turned to buy us time. His sword and shield blurred again, becoming the greatsword once more. The enemy axe-men reached him first, but he didn’t hold his ground, otherwise they would have wrapped around him and been on Myra and me in a second. Instead, he skipped backward as he cut down the ones who reached him first.
It was hard to believe such a large man could move like that, and I wondered what Dorian would have thought, if he could have seen his son dancing with the blade. He’d have thought it was weird as hell, but he’d have also been proud.
His movements were graceful and fluid, with sharp, whip-like counterpoints. At first glance, he appeared almost weightless, floating across the ground as he moved, but an experienced fighter would have noted how his feet were firmly set just before each strike, allowing him to deliver the maximum amount of power and then absorb the recoil.
Gram—no, Sir Gram—for the young man was every inch the knight his father had been—danced backward, staying within a few feet of us as we retreated. Thorn’s reach in his hands was close to ten feet, and none survived who entered that space.
Then the crossbowmen lifted their weapons again. They had taken the longest to recover
Realizing I had to do something, I did what I should have done half a minute sooner. I shouted a word and released my power, creating an almost instantaneous fog to cover us and the enemy, obscuring their aim.
Gram leapt in front of me as the first quarrels shot through the mist, catching a number of them on his shield. Several struck his legs and head, but his armor held, though the strike to his head sent him stumbling, half stunned from the force of it.
We needed something big, or we weren’t going to make it the remaining twenty yards to safety. Pushing Myra hard, I yelled, “Keep running!” Then I stopped, letting my focus drift as my mind sought the silent strength of the earth. I was done playing nicely. If these new strangers wanted us dead, I would bury them instead.
More crossbow bolts flew through the fog, and my concentration was ruined as they found me, first in my right thigh, then my hip. The pain was so intense I hardly felt the one that tore through my chest, piercing my heart.
My heart stopped, and with it, the pain vanished.
Chapter 24
The voice of the earth faded as the pain struck, but when it ended, another voice became much louder, drowning out everything else. The void howled around me, and releasing my fears, I claimed it.
My perception changed. My magesight was still there, but it tasted different. The aythar of my enemies became brighter, and it called to me, tempting me like a glass of water set before a man dying of thirst. Rising to my feet, I began to walk toward the buffet that had been laid out for me.
Gram was the first that I passed in the fog, close enough that he saw me. “Mort!” he shouted. “That’s the wrong way. Go back!”
I paused, fighting the urge to take him. His heart beat strongly in his chest and his life force shone brighter than that of anyone else on the field. More quarrels struck his armor, and I distantly felt another embed itself within my chest. Struggling to draw breath with my damaged lungs, I growled hoarsely at him, “Run.” Then I continued on toward our foes.
The first was only a few feet away, blazing at me through the fog like a lighthouse on a stormy night. Unable to restrain myself, I lashed out at him before I was close enough to touch him. A thick umbilical of black power sprang forth, latching onto his head and neck. In less than the span of a heartbeat, I ripped the life out of him, gasping with pleasure as the energy flooded into me.
I walked on, my stumbling gait becoming a confident stride.
The next two I found at the same time. Moving quickly, I placed one hand on the nearest, who had just raised his axe. I smiled as his eyes glazed and the weapon fell from his fingers as he sank to his knees. His friend chopped at me from the side, the power of his blow driving his axe almost halfway through my chest. I ripped the life out of that one without even looking at him, then resumed savoring the slow death of the one kneeling in front of me.
My chest began healing as soon as I pulled the axe blade out. Then I removed two of the crossbow bolts, but more appeared almost as soon as I had. I decided not to bother since they didn’t particularly hinder my movement. I could take them out later.
I killed more, reveling in the joy as the fire in my chest burned brighter. Gram was following me, cutting down those that approached me from the left, and I began to grow annoyed. Each life that died at his hands was one less for my feast.
At last I could take no more, so I turned on him. The young knight nearly severed my arm before recognizing me, not that I’d have cared. I moved close, my face only inches from the transparent steel of his helm. “I told you to run.”
Gram’s face showed shock, and perhaps—fear. “Mordecai, your eyes!”
I placed my palm on his chest. My patience was done, but the enchanted steel resisted my effort to draw out his life-force. Snarling, I pushed, and then he was airborne, flying across the field and back to the open shield gate. I didn’t bother watching to see how he landed, but I felt a faint pang of regret. He’s not my enemy, I thought. I shouldn’t hurt him.
Something flew out from the direction of Washbrook, a spinning plane of strange power almost two feet in width. It passed some thirty feet to my left. It was at waist height, and I could feel the aythar attached to it, guiding it through the mist. Matthew was controlling it, and the spell sliced through air and enemies alike without slowing.
Frustrated at the loss of yet more prey, I focused my attention on the gate into Washbrook. Matthew stood there while some of the men-at-arms helped Gram and Myra through. He held his metal hand out in front of him, and he projected a wide flat plane of utter blackness from it, absorbing everything that the enemy fired at them. Is that a newer version of his fool’s tesseract? I wondered. If so, did he mean to blow the enemy away, me included?
No, that couldn’t be it. He would be fully enclosed if he had that sort of intention, and it would probably be too dangerous to risk so close to the town.
Moira’s mind reached out to mine, bridging the distance between us. Father, come back.
Tell your brother to get back inside the walls! If he kills any more of my toys, I’ll come and rip his soul out by the roots, I snarled mentally.
What’s wrong with you? she replied anxiously, and then I felt the link began to change, driving more aggressively into my mind, trying to seize control.
Rather than fight it, I latched onto the connection and began to pull, drinking in her vitality. She would release me or die.
The connection broke almost instantly. My daughter was no fool. A dark feeling akin to pride washed over me, knowing that she hadn’t been weak enough to let me kill her. Seconds later, the opening in the shield that protected Washbrook closed. My wish had been granted.
During my brief pause to deal with the rebellion, I had apparently killed several more of the enemy, but more of them were closing on me. Aythar was flashing in the air, and my fog began to disperse. The enemy had spellcasters.
If the mist vanished, the enemy soldiers might be able to overwhelm me. I doubted they could kill me, but being hacked to pieces would probably hamper my ability to kill them. But I wasn’t new to this game. I knew what I needed to do.
Reaching out to the void, I touched the faint lines of darkness that still connected me to my recent victims, and then fed a portion of the dark power into them. As one, they began to rise from the ground, lifting their axes and turning on their former brothers-in-arms. The battle raged, and though I was outnumbered at first, the enemy soon realized that their advantage was a delusion. More of them fell, both at my hand and at the hands of my new servants, and each that fell rose again moments later, ready to serve.
Strange clicks and noises rang out across the field as my foes began to cry out to one another in alarm. Their bizarre clicking was augmented by animal-like squeals of terror as panic began to spread among them.
I directed my new helpers in an unorthodox strategy. Whereas most battlefield commanders were concerned with casualties and preserving their force, these things were not my concern. It didn’t matter whether my servants were hacked apart. All I cared about was making certain that none of the living escaped. Therefore, I directed most of my troops to the edges of the field, herding their former comrades in toward the center, where I and a small knot of my guardians waited.
Covered in blood, some my own, some that of others, I reveled in the slaughter. My wounds were gone. I had removed the last of the bolts from my body, and the holes had vanished as I basked in the deaths of my foes. It was like standing beside a bonfire on a winter night. The cold dark swirled at the edges of the light, but the burning light of my enemy’s dying heart-fires surrounded me in warmth.
In the beginning, when there were many of them, I didn’t bother going slowly. I sent black whips out to grasp them, ripping their lives out and fill
I paused when I reached the last one, their proud leader, now reduced to a terror-ridden lump of trembling flesh. I should make this one special, I thought. With a mental command, I had those holding him step away. To his credit, he bravely struck at me, but I caught his thick wrist in an iron grip. He began to weaken immediately, but I avoided killing him quickly. Perhaps I should open his throat, let the warm blood out.
Some part of me rebelled at that thought. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t me. Kill him and go home. That was all I needed to do. Clenching my will, I tore his life out and released his arm. Then I turned my back and walked toward Washbrook.
My family was waiting.
As I returned, I could see that all eyes were on me, whether it was the soldiers and militia on the walls and towers, or those gathered within the city gate. Matthew and Moira were just outside that, but the shield remained closed as I drew near. Gram stood with them, though I could tell by his stance he was still nursing a few injuries.
When I stopped a few feet from the barrier enchantment, they merely stared at me.
“Open up,” I commanded.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Father,” said Matthew, his tone neutral.
I smiled, knowing he must be afraid I meant to kill them. While the thought had crossed my mind, it had passed as my bloodlust dissipated. They were my children, not my prey. I just had to convince them of my peaceful intentions. Glancing down at myself, I realized I was quite literally covered in blood. That combined with the gruesome scene they had just witnessed had probably unnerved them.