Jak Koke - The Edge of Chaos

A stony mote floated like a low cloud above them, and as it drifted to eclipse the sun, it cast a wide shadow that blocked the searing heat. Slanya was grateful for the reprieve, even though the close proximity of the motes made her nervous. Sometimes, the small ones fell out of the sky.

“We must hurry through this area,” Duvan said, keeping his voice low. “If we are being pursued, this is the best place to-”

The sound of approaching hooves interrupted Duvan.

Slanya glanced around. “You were saying?”

“Hide!”

Slanya barely noticed Duvan disappearing into the tall grass and ducking behind a pile of stone rubble. And as she moved off the path and crouched down in the shadows of a ruined wall, her eyes lost track of him. She concentrated and tried to find him again.

Yes, there he was: just across the narrow track in the shade of a large flagstone. It was right where she knew he’d been all along, but if she looked away, even for a second, she had a hard time finding him in the tableau of shadows and shapes.

The riders approached at a rapid canter from the direction of the Tyrangal’s mansion. Slanya picked out four of them, coming directly for her: three human men she didn’t recognize and one red-headed female dwarf in blue clerical robes, tied at the waist with a braided white rope. The dwarf had been part of Vraith’s party when she’d visited with Gregor. Within moments they drew reins in the path next to her.

“We can see you, cleric,” said a large man in dull plate armor. “And our quarrel is not with you. I’m Beaugrat from the Order of Blue Fire. We’re looking for a man by the name of Duvan.”

Behind the man, an archer with a pockmarked complexion nocked an arrow. Next to him was a thin skeleton of a man with the air of a pilgrim.

“The criminal was recently seen walking with you,” said Beaugrat.

So they haven’t seen Duvan yet, she thought.

Slanya stepped out into the open, standing ready. She gripped her staff loosely, prepared to swing it. “Good morning to you-”

Beaugrat swung down from his horse and stood facing her. He wore a heavy suit of armor and a huge sword on his back.

“Criminal?” Slanya took stock of the other three. The archer and the pilgrim hung back on their horses. The pilgrim wore leathers but seemed uncomfortable in them. The archer brought the bow up, the ready arrow aimed at her. The dwarf cleric merely looked on, her dark eyes set in a ruddy face. The Order of Blue Fire symbol of a flaming blue eyeball, was embroidered on her robes.

“Yes,” Beaugrat said, “he killed two respected members of the Order and is wanted for questioning and enlightenment.”

Slanya winced. Enlightenment was not something that could be imposed upon someone by an external force. Despite the fact that Gregor had forged ties with Vraith, the more Slanya learned of its practices, the less she respected the Order of Blue Fire.

“My meeting with Duvan was brief. I don’t know where he is at the moment.”

Beaugrat stepped closer, prompting Slanya to lift her staff. “If he submits without a fight,” the man said, “you have nothing to fear.”

Slanya drew up to her full height. She was taller than Beaugrat, and although the man outweighed her by double, she managed to look down on him. “I do not want to fight you, sir,” she said. “But you will find me a formidable opponent. There is also a formal alliance between the leaders of my monastery and Commander Accordant Vraith of your order. Any aggression toward me would jeopardize that, and such an act would meet with punishment from above. So, in that light, Beaugrat, I suggest you look elsewhere.”

For a passing moment, Beaugrat hesitated, his face revealing his confusion. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” he said. “Just tell me where Duvan is, or we will be forced to kill you.”

Without warning, the bowman on the horse behind Beaugrat grunted. Slanya looked up to see his face stricken into a frozen grimace of pain. He toppled sideways off the horse, his arrow springing free from his grip. The wayward quarrel plunged into the hindquarters of Beaugrat’s riderless horse. The black stallion reared and bolted.

Slanya saw Duvan’s shadowy form approaching Beaugrat from behind, moving fast. Go, go, she urged silently. On the periphery of her vision, she noticed the cleric make a pattern with her hands, drawing power from her god. That would not do.

Slanya leaped sideways, closing the distance, and struck three rapid blows to the cleric’s head and neck, aiming for the specific spots she knew had a high chance of stunning the dwarf. Two of the blows landed, and the dwarf slumped unconscious mid cast.

A quick glance told her that Duvan was fighting with Beaugrat. Duvan lunged, touching the tip of his dagger blade to the exposed part of the big man’s neck. Beaugrat’s huge gauntleted hands tried to lock down on Duvan. They failed as the smaller man snaked out of his grasp and danced away.

Not dead yet. Which was good, because she needed him.

Slanya darted at the pilgrim in leather armor. The man made a slow attempt to draw the unfamiliar sword on his waist. But he was clearly not trained for this sort of activity and had come along as a tourist or voyeur. His mistake. Two strikes of her staff later, and the pilgrim lay on the ground, disarmed and knocked out.

Slanya heard the distinct sound of a large sword being drawn from its sheath. She turned to see Duvan and Beaugrat circling each other. The big man swung the huge sword in broad arcs that prevented Duvan from getting in close. Duvan, for his part, was keeping a good distance, dodging and feinting to keep the barbarian off-balance.

Slanya purposefully made noise as she approached. “You’d do yourself a favor to leave,” she told Beaugrat. “Your companions cannot aid you.”

Beaugrat took his eyes off Duvan to glance at what remained of his group. When he turned back, there was a brilliant flash of light in Duvan’s vicinity, blinding Slanya for a second.

She caught the sound of metal glancing off metal and saw one of Duvan’s throwing daggers skitter across the hard dirt.

Beaugrat swung his sword in huge arcs, backing toward the other horses. He grabbed the pilgrim’s chestnut mare and swung up. “I’ll be back for you, Duvan,” he said, riding off. “And you, too, priest.” He rode off toward the city.

Slanya looked over to find Duvan standing over the dead body of the archer. He was breathing hard and taking stock of the situation.

“I had things under control,” she said, feeling the anger driving her words. “Fighting is not always the best option.”

Narrowing his eyes, Duvan said, “You’re welcome.”

Slanya blinked, unperturbed.

“He was going to kill you!”

“No,” Slanya said. “He would’ve realized that he couldn’t attack me without angering his superiors. Then he would’ve left us alone. A peaceful solution.”

“Um, not likely,” Duvan scoffed. “Beaugrat is driven by revenge for his wounded pride. I don’t practice revenge myself, and I suspect you don’t either, but unlike you, I do understand it. He would never have given in to a logical argument.”

“Perhaps not,” Slanya conceded. “But there’s more to this attack than simple revenge. The Order of Blue Fire is interested enough in you to spy on your activities. Think about it: what do they want from you? Boiling it down to revenge is a dangerous oversimplification.”

Duvan was quiet for a minute, then he nodded. “You’re right; they want me for something.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Slanya decided to let the issue drop. For now.

“I’m sorry that you got caught up in my business, Slanya. This was certainly not your battle.”