The Desert Spear
Page 80
He was up in an instant, tackling a flame demon and tearing its lower jaw clean off. The Cutters caught up to him then, catching flame bursts on their warded shields and hacking at the demons as if they were sectioning lumber.
Wonda and the archers took a different tack, halting their horses several dozen yards back and sighting the wind demons that filled the sky. They came crashing down one after another, feathered shafts jutting from their leathery bodies.
Rojer slipped from his horse, leaving it with the archers, and took up his fiddle, playing even as he ran for the small circle. Much like Leesha’s Cloaks of Unsight, his music made him effectively invisible to the corelings as he waded through their lines, but without the need for a slow pace. In moments he was inside the circle, and changed his tune to the jarring notes that would drive the demons away from the small family.
The young woman screamed as battle raged about them, black demon ichor flying free in the night air. Her parents were doing what they could to make her comfortable, but it was clear from their fumbling that they had no idea how to assist in the delivery.
“She needs help!” Rojer cried. “We need to get her to an Herb Gatherer!”
The Painted Man broke away from the demons he was engaging and was at Rojer’s side in an instant. He was clad only in a loincloth, covered in tattoos and demon ichor. The Rizonans backed away from him in fear, but the girl was too far gone to even notice.
“Get my herb pouch,” the Painted Man said, kneeling by the girl and examining her with a surprisingly gentle touch. “Her water’s broken and her contractions are close. There’s no time to get her to a Gatherer.”
Rojer ran out to Twilight Dancer, but the stallion was in a wild rage, trampling a pair of flame demons into the snow and mud. Drawing his warded cloak about him, Rojer took up his fiddle again. As with the corelings, Rojer’s special magic found resonance with the beast, and in short order the horse stood calmly while Rojer retrieved the precious herb pouch.
He brought the pouch to the Painted Man, who quickly began grinding herbs into powder and mixing them with water. The girl’s family kept back, watching the scene in horror as the Cutters laid waste to demons all around them.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Rojer asked nervously, as the Painted Man brought his potion to the moaning woman’s lips.
“I was apprenticed to an Herb Gatherer for six months as part of my Messenger training,” the Painted Man said. “I’ve seen it done.”
“Seen?!” Rojer asked.
“Do you want to do it?” the Painted Man asked, looking at him. Rojer blanched and shook his head. “Then just play your ripping fiddle and keep the demons back while I work.” Rojer nodded and put bow back to string.
Hours later, with the sounds of battle long faded, a shrill cry broke the night. Rojer looked at the screaming babe and smiled.
“There will be no denying it when people call you Deliverer now,” he said.
The Painted Man scowled at him, and Rojer laughed.
Leesha carried the steaming tray up the steps of Smitt’s inn, her heart beating nervously. Twice before, she had considered giving herself to Marick, whom she could not deny was handsome and quick-witted. Both times, Marick’s character had failed at the key moment, making Leesha feel that in his mind, her needs were second to his own, if he was considering them at all.
But her mother was right again. She often was, even as she used the insight to cut at people. Leesha was tired of being alone, and she knew in her heart that Arlen would never fill that place for her. Not for the first time, she wished she could see Rojer in that light, but it was impossible. She loved Rojer, but had no desire for him to share her bed. Marick had shown the people of Fort Rizon that he was a man who could be counted upon in times of need. Perhaps it was time to look beyond his past failings.
She tugged the wrinkles from her dress, then felt foolish for it, and knocked on his door.
“Ay?” Marick asked as he opened the door. He was shirtless and damp, having just come from the warm basin of water in his room. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Leesha.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Leesha said. “Just thought you might do with a hot meal before you sleep.”
“I…yes, thank you,” Marick said, grabbing his tunic and pulling it on. Leesha looked away as he did so, though the image of his muscled body lingered in her mind.
Marick took the tray, inhaling its aroma deeply as he brought it over to the small table and chair by the bed. He lifted the lid to reveal a hot joint of meat, moist with its own juices, nestled amid spiced potatoes and fresh steamed greens.
“Food in Deliverer’s Hollow is soon to grow short,” Leesha said, “but Smitt’s stores have held out for a night, at least.”
“A bed is glorious enough, after lying down in snow for near two weeks,” Marick said. “This is a gift from the Creator Himself.” He tore into the meat, and Leesha took a strange satisfaction in watching him eat the food she had prepared. She remembered the feeling, distantly, from the time she and Gared had been promised, and she first cooked for him. It seemed a century ago, in another life.
“That was delicious,” Marick said when he was done, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“It’s small thanks for what you did,” Leesha said, “bringing those people to safety in their time of need.”
“Even after I failed you in yours?” Marick asked. Leesha looked at him in surprise.
“Last year,” Marick said, “when flux caught the Hollow and you needed to get home. I made…unfair demands for my assistance.”
“Marick…” Leesha began softly.
“No, let me speak,” Marick said. “When we were on the road to Angiers that first time, I was so taken with you, I thought we would be raising children together within a year. But then, in the tent, when I couldn’t…be a man with you, I…”
“Marick…” Leesha said again.
“It made me crazy,” Marick said. “I felt like I needed to get far away from you, but when I did, I couldn’t stop thinking of you, even when I…lay with other women.” He looked away.
“But when I saw you again,” he went on, “I felt so…hard, and I wanted to make up for my past failing quickly, before something else prevented it. It was unfair to you, and I’m sorry.”
Leesha laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not a child,” she said. “I was as responsible for what happened as you.” It was more true than he would ever know, and at that moment she felt horrified at her own actions. It felt so righteous at the time, but the truth was she had drugged and used him for her own convenience, leaving him scarred for years over the ordeal. Perhaps Rojer was right, and she was more like her mother than she knew.
“That’s kind of you to say,” Marick said, squeezing her arm, “but you and I both know it isn’t so. I’m glad you managed to make it home,” he added, “and without having to surrender your virtue.”
Leesha had been leaning in toward him, but she flinched back from him at the words, for indeed, her virtue had been torn from her on the trip, taken by bandits on the road because she went without proper escort. All because of Marick’s impatience and inability to think of others before himself.
Wonda and the archers took a different tack, halting their horses several dozen yards back and sighting the wind demons that filled the sky. They came crashing down one after another, feathered shafts jutting from their leathery bodies.
Rojer slipped from his horse, leaving it with the archers, and took up his fiddle, playing even as he ran for the small circle. Much like Leesha’s Cloaks of Unsight, his music made him effectively invisible to the corelings as he waded through their lines, but without the need for a slow pace. In moments he was inside the circle, and changed his tune to the jarring notes that would drive the demons away from the small family.
The young woman screamed as battle raged about them, black demon ichor flying free in the night air. Her parents were doing what they could to make her comfortable, but it was clear from their fumbling that they had no idea how to assist in the delivery.
“She needs help!” Rojer cried. “We need to get her to an Herb Gatherer!”
The Painted Man broke away from the demons he was engaging and was at Rojer’s side in an instant. He was clad only in a loincloth, covered in tattoos and demon ichor. The Rizonans backed away from him in fear, but the girl was too far gone to even notice.
“Get my herb pouch,” the Painted Man said, kneeling by the girl and examining her with a surprisingly gentle touch. “Her water’s broken and her contractions are close. There’s no time to get her to a Gatherer.”
Rojer ran out to Twilight Dancer, but the stallion was in a wild rage, trampling a pair of flame demons into the snow and mud. Drawing his warded cloak about him, Rojer took up his fiddle again. As with the corelings, Rojer’s special magic found resonance with the beast, and in short order the horse stood calmly while Rojer retrieved the precious herb pouch.
He brought the pouch to the Painted Man, who quickly began grinding herbs into powder and mixing them with water. The girl’s family kept back, watching the scene in horror as the Cutters laid waste to demons all around them.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Rojer asked nervously, as the Painted Man brought his potion to the moaning woman’s lips.
“I was apprenticed to an Herb Gatherer for six months as part of my Messenger training,” the Painted Man said. “I’ve seen it done.”
“Seen?!” Rojer asked.
“Do you want to do it?” the Painted Man asked, looking at him. Rojer blanched and shook his head. “Then just play your ripping fiddle and keep the demons back while I work.” Rojer nodded and put bow back to string.
Hours later, with the sounds of battle long faded, a shrill cry broke the night. Rojer looked at the screaming babe and smiled.
“There will be no denying it when people call you Deliverer now,” he said.
The Painted Man scowled at him, and Rojer laughed.
Leesha carried the steaming tray up the steps of Smitt’s inn, her heart beating nervously. Twice before, she had considered giving herself to Marick, whom she could not deny was handsome and quick-witted. Both times, Marick’s character had failed at the key moment, making Leesha feel that in his mind, her needs were second to his own, if he was considering them at all.
But her mother was right again. She often was, even as she used the insight to cut at people. Leesha was tired of being alone, and she knew in her heart that Arlen would never fill that place for her. Not for the first time, she wished she could see Rojer in that light, but it was impossible. She loved Rojer, but had no desire for him to share her bed. Marick had shown the people of Fort Rizon that he was a man who could be counted upon in times of need. Perhaps it was time to look beyond his past failings.
She tugged the wrinkles from her dress, then felt foolish for it, and knocked on his door.
“Ay?” Marick asked as he opened the door. He was shirtless and damp, having just come from the warm basin of water in his room. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Leesha.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Leesha said. “Just thought you might do with a hot meal before you sleep.”
“I…yes, thank you,” Marick said, grabbing his tunic and pulling it on. Leesha looked away as he did so, though the image of his muscled body lingered in her mind.
Marick took the tray, inhaling its aroma deeply as he brought it over to the small table and chair by the bed. He lifted the lid to reveal a hot joint of meat, moist with its own juices, nestled amid spiced potatoes and fresh steamed greens.
“Food in Deliverer’s Hollow is soon to grow short,” Leesha said, “but Smitt’s stores have held out for a night, at least.”
“A bed is glorious enough, after lying down in snow for near two weeks,” Marick said. “This is a gift from the Creator Himself.” He tore into the meat, and Leesha took a strange satisfaction in watching him eat the food she had prepared. She remembered the feeling, distantly, from the time she and Gared had been promised, and she first cooked for him. It seemed a century ago, in another life.
“That was delicious,” Marick said when he was done, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“It’s small thanks for what you did,” Leesha said, “bringing those people to safety in their time of need.”
“Even after I failed you in yours?” Marick asked. Leesha looked at him in surprise.
“Last year,” Marick said, “when flux caught the Hollow and you needed to get home. I made…unfair demands for my assistance.”
“Marick…” Leesha began softly.
“No, let me speak,” Marick said. “When we were on the road to Angiers that first time, I was so taken with you, I thought we would be raising children together within a year. But then, in the tent, when I couldn’t…be a man with you, I…”
“Marick…” Leesha said again.
“It made me crazy,” Marick said. “I felt like I needed to get far away from you, but when I did, I couldn’t stop thinking of you, even when I…lay with other women.” He looked away.
“But when I saw you again,” he went on, “I felt so…hard, and I wanted to make up for my past failing quickly, before something else prevented it. It was unfair to you, and I’m sorry.”
Leesha laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not a child,” she said. “I was as responsible for what happened as you.” It was more true than he would ever know, and at that moment she felt horrified at her own actions. It felt so righteous at the time, but the truth was she had drugged and used him for her own convenience, leaving him scarred for years over the ordeal. Perhaps Rojer was right, and she was more like her mother than she knew.
“That’s kind of you to say,” Marick said, squeezing her arm, “but you and I both know it isn’t so. I’m glad you managed to make it home,” he added, “and without having to surrender your virtue.”
Leesha had been leaning in toward him, but she flinched back from him at the words, for indeed, her virtue had been torn from her on the trip, taken by bandits on the road because she went without proper escort. All because of Marick’s impatience and inability to think of others before himself.
