G. Kelly - Sword and Circle

Again, Gawain said nothing, and though his head was angled towards the Gorian leader, his eyes, narrowed against the late afternoon sunshine, were fixed on the fellow inching his way closer and closer to the centre of the line. It was in the centre of that line the four women stood, though Gawain did not think that was the reason for the man’s movements. The more he watched, the more Gawain was convinced that the man was sly, his intent less than honourable.

“You spoke of ‘the darkness’, what did you mean?” Tyrane asked. “Is there a sickness, some disease among you we here should be wary of?”

“No!” Jaxon exclaimed, holding up both hands, “No, we are well, all of us, though tired from our great journey, and poorly fed. But…,” he paused, as if considering something, then continued: “But we are pursued, that we know, for we were more than fifty when we fled through the guardstones at the Eramak in the east of Armunland, and in Goria it’s well known the dark makers allow none to live who escape their bondage.”

“Now the shadowman has moved two more places and has pushed through to the front of the line?”

“Isst!”

Elayeen gazed intently. “You are sure it is a man, Allazar?”

“Yes.”

“I see only a shadow. All the others have a glow, Allazar, all the gingerbread men are shining save this one, which is as black as night against the grey backdrop of my world.”

“You speak of Armunland,” Gawain spoke at last. “Would this once have been the province of Armun Tal, Goth-lord of Goria?”

Jaxon appeared confused. “I do not know the name, Serre,” and with that he turned and looked to his people, all of whom, save one man, shrugged and looked to each other in search of an answer. That one man was the sly one, the mover, the one creeping closer to the centre of the line and who even now fixed his unblinking gaze upon Simayen Jaxon.

“Armunland is the name of the province, Serre, and the lords of all provinces bear the title ‘Tal’. We have not heard of Goth-lords. I am sorry…”

“The shadowman has moved once more, Allazar, and now stands behind and to the right of the one who speaks for the Gorians.”

“Isst.”

As Elayeen watched, the shadow seemed to become darker, blacker, and if blackness could ever be said to glow, then the arms and hands of this one certainly were.

“Stand aside, Allazar!” Elayeen hissed, her face set grim as she drew a longshaft from her quiver, nocked it to the string, and drew the bow. She gasped a little as the pain from the two broken fingers of her left hand lanced along her arm, but with those two fingers bound together and sticking out at an odd angle, still she held the bow firm against the draw.

“ Meleeah ! You cannot tireanda! Fenestratia est !”

But Elayeen held the bow firm, gauging her aim by feel, and by memory, and by the long years of practice all Elves endure almost from the time they can walk.

Outside, Gawain tensed, his eyes fixed on the man who stood not ten feet behind and slightly to Jaxon’s right and Gawain’s left. There seemed to be something wrong with that man’s hands…

“You said you were pursued, Serre Jaxon, and that your numbers have declined? Is there an enemy then we should beware of?”

“Yes,” Jaxon confirmed. “Though not one we have seen. On our long journey here, we lost friends in the night. Sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes a week passed without an attack. But on dread days we would rise with the sun and find one of our number slain, torn open as if by some animal…”

“My lady! Nai tireanda agath fenestratia!” Allazar gasped.

But Elayeen simply held her breath, waited for her heart to pause in its beating, and with a certainty beyond explanation in spite of her blindness, released the arrow.

At once there was the crash of splintering glass. The stone point of the shaft, fitted by Gawain himself as a precaution against the charmed armour of Morloch’s black riders, struck the pane while the string was still driving the arrow forward. And though effective against charmed armour, the flint tip simply shattered almost into dust at the impact, and the dowel at the head of the arrow where the stone was bound and fixed into a slot carved in the wood, split.

Still, the elven longbow is weapon of immense power, and though the tip was destroyed, the shaft flew through the remains of the window pane, twitching and writhing like an airborne snake, to strike the shadowman harmlessly on the chest.

But the shot was not entirely ineffective. The fletched end of the arrow tumbled upwards and slapped the shadowman in the face, though of course Elayeen saw it not, and to everyone else’s eye it was a Gorian man who cried out briefly and stumbled back apace, clutching his face and damaged eye.

It was the cry that galvanised Gawain as much as anything else, for it was not human. No, the sound that skirled from the throat of the surprised ‘man’ was more like the screech of some agonised great bird, and the hands that it put to its face were not hands, but claws bearing talons beyond the wisdom and sanity of nature’s making.

“Alarm!” Tyrane cried, “Down!” and raised his crossbow as the terrified Jaxon stood rooted to the spot, staring at the horror he had turned to face, a horror which moments before had stood so close behind and unseen. Tyrane could not shoot, not with Jaxon in the line of fire.

Nor could his guardsmen, as the men and women of Goria surged away from the creature in their midst, horror clouding all their judgement as some dived to the ground and others simply fled in whatever direction they happened to be facing.

“ Grimmand !” Allazar suddenly cried, and forgetting Elayeen, was through the door and out onto the boardwalk in a matter of heartbeats. “Grimmand!”

Another elven longshaft sang across the cobbled yard, this time its passage unhindered on its journey through the now vacant square in the window left by the first. It missed Gawain by inches, passing his left shoulder as he leapt from the boardwalk, the longsword already drawn and swinging. But it did not miss the man-shaped creature lunging towards Simayen Jaxon. The arrow slammed into the creature’s chest and passed most of the way through it, but still the creature’s forward momentum was unchecked, its target clearly the Gorian leader.

Gawain’s sword continued through its mighty arc, whistling over the top of Jaxon’s head to slam into creature’s chest too, and that did check the beast’s attack.

“Run!” Gawain shouted to the paralysed Gorian, and finally danger penetrated through horror to galvanise Jaxon’s consciousness. He fled, towards the stables north of the inn as, incredibly, the creature staggered backwards, fell, and then began to rise again, the great gash in its chest closing, sealing against the solid black ooze within.

A crossbow bolt fizzed past Gawain’s right shoulder and slammed into the creature’s head, Tyrane tossing aside the discharged weapon and drawing his shortsword, his face blank, unmoved by the horror rising up once more in front of Gawain and intent simply on destroying it.

More bolts slammed into the creature from different directions, and though the thing staggered this way and that on its two human legs, yet still it advanced, though now its gaze was fixed on Gawain.

“ Grimmand !” Allazar’s voice screamed above the sound of crossbows being fired and cocked, and the screeching of the creature at each impact.

Gawain snatched a glimpse over his shoulder and saw the wizard advancing, staff raised high, sparks crackling around its ends and its entire length glowing brightly.

“Down, Tyrane!” Gawain yelled, hurling himself to the left, and the captain threw himself to the right as a searing blast of white-hot lightning ripped through the air between them, burning a gaping hole clean through the creature, and the tents by the wells, before slamming into the cliff beyond, blasting smouldering chunks of rock from them and leaving a blackened, smoking cavity in their place. At once, the lightning was gone, and with a quiet ‘whoosh’, before the creature’s remains had a chance to topple and fall, it was consumed in rush of purple flame, leaving an oily cloud of smoke rising slowly, and dispersing.