Paul Kemp - The Hammer and the Blade

"Fak you."

Nix chuckled. "No wounds that I can see through the thicket, save minor burns. You're good."

"I wouldn't say that," Egil said, and sagged to the sand. Nix did the same. He felt like he could have slept a week. They sat there shivering, too tired to stand. A few gulls approached, eyeing them warily.

More shouts from over the rise. Jyme was getting closer. Startled by Jyme's shouts, the gulls cawed and flew off.

Halfheartedly, Nix said, "Maybe we should kill Rakon now. What do you think?"

The spellworm rewarded his words and thoughts with a bout of nausea. The discomfort felt almost quaint after the pain of fire.

Egil clutched his stomach, grimaced against the pain of the worm. "Tempting, I admit. But I figure he was just aiding his sisters. We all do things to help those we love, right?"

"Right," Nix said, thinking of the Vwynn he'd killed to save Egil.

"We can't kill him just because he's a prick, can we?" Egil asked. "We make that our rule and our blades will be bloody until we're graybeards."

"Plenty of pricks in Ellerth," Nix agreed. "And yet… the sisters he seeks to help are witches."

"And he's a sorcerer," Egil said thoughtfully. He looked up. "Perhaps we should kill him, do the world a service."

The words made Egil groan with pain, the worm vexing him. He punched himself in the stomach.

"It's worth it, you fakkin' worm."

"I think we'd have to kill Baras and Jyme to get to him," Nix said. "I've no stomach for that."

"Baras, maybe," Egil said. "Not Jyme. But what if the Lord Mayor somehow learned we'd killed his Adjunct? We'd never be able to return to Dur Follin."

"I do sort of like it there," Nix said. He sighed. "Well enough. You make fair points. We let him live. I was just trying on a thought, is all. I get irritable when my flesh is nearly consumed in fire. Another time, maybe."

"Another time," Egil agreed.

Jyme's shouts sounded nearer.

"Over here!" Nix called, managing a creditable yell.

Jyme appeared atop the rise that overlooked the beach, his eyes wide, his face wearing an expression of shock.

"Gods, men! There you are! We saw that fire! Hells, the whole hill vibrated!" He shouted up at the cliff. "My lord! Baras! I've found them! They're here! Over here!"

Baras's shout answered from atop the cliff.

"On our way!"

In moments Rakon and Baras were hurrying down the hill, leading the horses.

Jyme hurried toward Egil and Nix, stumbling in the sand as he ran. "Where are the others?"

"It's just us," Nix said.

"Shite," Jyme said. He made the symbol of Orella with his hand.

"Aye," Egil said. "Shite. They were good men."

Nix stood and pulled on his shirt, wincing from various pains. Egil did the same.

"Is that it?" Jyme asked, nodding at the horn Nix had placed on the sand. "The horn?"

Nix had almost forgotten about it. He picked it up and examined it more closely. It felt heavier than it should, given its size and composition. His hands tingled from its enchantment.

"What's all that writing mean?" Jyme asked.

Nix shrugged. "I can't read it."

"How in the Pits do you rob all these tombs if you can't read Afirion?"

Egil shook his head. Nix sighed.

"Jyme, robbing tombs, as you so genteelly put it, involves avoiding traps, crawling through dirt, picking locks, and sometimes, sometimes, killing guardians. As a rule, poetry readings are not required. I can read enough, but not this. It's an older dialect, I think."

"I… I only meant…"

"Just shut up, Jyme," Egil said.

Rakon and Baras crested the rise, leaving the horses behind them. Rakon stood his ground atop it. Baras continued toward them.

"Do you have it?" Rakon called. He shifted from foot to foot. "The horn? Do you have it?"

"We have it, you bunghole," Nix muttered.

Jyme chuckled.

"My men?" Baras asked, looking up and down the beach.

Egil shook his head. "They didn't come out."

"Sorry, Baras," Nix said.

"Shite," Baras said.

"Do they have it, Baras?" Rakon called again, his voice tense.

Baras's face flashed irritation, but only for a moment. His eyes fell on the horn Nix held. Over his shoulder, he called, "They have it, my lord."

"Well done! Bring it to me, Baras."

Nix handed the instrument to Baras.

"It damned well better work after all this," Baras said softly, eyeing the horn. "Good men died for it."

"Uh, take anything else out of there?" Jyme asked. "Anything valuable?"

"Our lives," Nix said irritably. "But maybe you meant something else?"

"No offense meant," Jyme said. "Just asking, is all."

"It's forgotten," Nix said with a sigh. "I'm irritable, is all."

"Hurry, Baras," Rakon said, his voice greedy with anticipation. The sorcerer looked to the sky, the setting sun turning it red. "Hurry!"

Baras jogged the horn over to Rakon. Egil, Nix, and Jyme started for the rise. The moment Baras handed the horn to Rakon, Nix felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, as if he'd been stabbed. He doubled over, groaning. Egil did the same.

"What is it?" Jyme asked. "What's wrong?"

Nix tried to speak, but the squirming in his guts allowed him to do nothing but heave. He put his hands on his knees and puked bile, then a long, thick stream of sputum that seemed to go on forever. Beside him, Egil did the same.

"There's something wrong with them," Jyme called to Rakon.

"There's nothing wrong," Rakon said. "They completed their charge and now they're free of the spellworm."

The heaves went on for some time, Egil and Nix purging themselves of Rakon's compulsion. When they were done, twin snakes of greenish-black phlegm lay glistening in the sand.

"That's unpleasant," Egil said, wiping his mouth, kicking sand over the mucus.

"Seconded," Nix said.

"You all right?" Jyme asked. He'd lingered while they'd puked.

"As well as can be," Nix said. "Come on. Time to take our leave, I think."

By the time they reached the camp, Rakon and the eunuch had already laid his sisters on the ground. The horn hung from Rakon's neck and his satchel of needful things from his shoulder. Baras stood at a distance from Rakon, watching with a curious look on his face.

"What is he doing?" Jyme said.

Nix shrugged. "Breaking the curse, maybe? That's what this was all about."

"Was it?" Egil said.

"You have a thought?" Nix asked him.

"Suspicions," the priest answered. "Let's hold here."

"I want to get supplies and get clear," Nix said. "We're done. I'm done."

"Just hold," Egil said.

Baras walked toward Rakon and the eunuch. "My lord, your sisters need to be strapped to the horses for the return journey to Dur Follin. Unless you intend to lift the curse here?"

Rakon did not turn. "We won't be taking the horses, Baras. I cannot spare the time to return on foot. The Thin Veil is near."

"The Thin Veil, my lord? I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," Rakon said. He nodded at the eunuch and the huge man took Baras by the arms and steered him away from Rakon and his sisters. Meanwhile, Rakon rummaged through the pack on the ground until he found what he sought: a wristthick candle. He stood it in the sand, uttered the words to a cantrip, and a flame sprung from his finger. He touched it to the candle and thick black smoke rose into the twilight air.

"You've done me a service," Rakon said over his shoulder to Egil and Nix. "I won't soon forget it. Nor will I forget that all of this was necessary to begin with only due to your interference in matters beyond your ken. Tomb robbers and thieves almost brought down the house of my forefathers."

"You blather, man," Nix said. "We had nothing to do with any of this. At least I don't think we did. Did we, Egil?"

Egil didn't answer. He had his eyes on the sorcerer, his hand on a hammer. Jyme stood with them, lingered at a distance.