Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

Vulak raids were not something Pantros had ever had to worry about in Ignea. The city was isolated between the sea, the Backflow River, the volcano and the Valencian Peaks, which contained wild beasts far more threatening than Vulak. Those beasts never approached the cities, though.

“Could the Vulak be after the gem too?” Pantros asked the huntress.

“It would have to be something like that if they’re as active as Faren says.” Sheillene said. “There’s a small Hunter’s Guild lodge here, they have ways to communicate quickly throughout the lands. I’ll see what they know. I’ll catch up to you inside.” She headed down the street and Tara went into the Inn. Pantros followed his sister.

The only people at the Inn were the people travelling with Pantros and Faren. Everyone else had gone, headed to one of the walled cities.

“The Hunters are aware of hundreds of incursions by the Vulak, starting about four days ago,” Sheillene said. “So far none are more than fifty leagues into the country, but the numbers are large. The reports are either exaggerating or this is not seasonal raids, but a gathering army, and a large one at that. We need to head that way immediately. Faren is coming with us, so we get his horses for the next leg. After that, we may have to resort to drastic means such as pushing the horses beyond prudence and possibly stealing replacements from abandoned farms and inns.”

“Will we make it?” Pantros asked. “Melnith is still two hundred leagues from here.” He’d been trying to map out the journey in his head. The distance he’d stated was mostly a guess.

“A little more than that,” Sheillene said. “The towns between here and there are already evacuated. The Vulak forces are moving inward, but they are on foot and as slow as the slowest member of the group. We have an advantage in speed, though only a slight one. We should make it ahead of the Vulak with a couple days to spare.”

David raised a finger then said, “I’ve had tours at the northern forts. I know Vulak strategies. There will likely be small forces made up of younger, more eager Vulak ahead of the others. We’ll probably have to fight a few of those. I’d say that Vulak do not fight with any honor, but it would be more accurate to say that the Vulak sense of honor is alien to us. They don’t attack unarmed people, but they expect the unarmed people to become slaves for a season, two if the first season is spring. Slaves are treated with respect, even by our standards, but they lose all their property. Armed folks will be killed and if they don’t die immediately they face torture before death, and then they might be eaten, and that likelihood increases with their apparent prowess in battle.”

“So those of us who can’t fight would do better not to try?” Thomas asked.

“If Vulak attack us, and you aren’t a very competent fighter, sit down, wherever you are, and wait for the fight to end,” David said. “As long as we win, you’ll be fine.”

“The rest of us should wear armor,” Sheillene said. “I grabbed a few leather jerkins and some bracers from the Hunter’s hall. They’re in the carriage. I couldn’t find anything large enough for Marc.”

Faren pointed to the inn wall, or something on the other side of the wall. “I have a tanned ox hide in the barn. We wouldn’t have time to make proper armor, but we could cut a hole in it for his head and then belt it and trim off whatever is in the way of his movement. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it’s better than the canvas shirt he’s wearing.”

David said, “I have two sets of armor in the carriage: Battle armor and tournament armor. There’s little coverage on the back in the tournament armor, so I’d be willing to wear that if someone wanted to use the battle armor. It looks like it would fit Pan, Thomas or Faren. It might fit Tara, but it wouldn’t be an ideal fit.”

“I don’t think I could move in plate armor,” Pantros said. He’d always thought the best way to not be hurt was to not get hit. He figured if he could dodge Bryan’s sword, even when it was usually not actually a sword, he’d do fine against any Vulak. “I’ll probably try one of the jerkins if they’re anything like Sheillene’s armor.”

“Not as pretty,” Sheillene said. “Functional, but not pretty.”

“I’m probably going the sit-on-my-ass route,” Thomas said.

“I’ll take a jerkin,” Tara said. “I may not be the best with a sword, but I don’t want to be alive knowing I did nothing to keep my brother from being killed.”

“Real armor sounds good to me,” Faren said. “I’m a fair shot with a bow and can handle a spear and shield as well as any. I served in the Abvi Army for ninety years back when I was Sheillene’s age. I kept my weapons up, but my armor would need to be re-strapped and reconditioned. I don’t think we have the time for that.”

“We really should be leaving now,” Sheillene said. “Grab the ox hide and some shears and we’ll be on our way.”

Faren got up from his chair. “Sure thing,” he said then headed towards the front door. He stopped and turned around, “There are four sacks on the counter in the kitchen. That’s all my dried meat, my current bread and a hard cheese or two. Someone should grab it.” The innkeeper then stepped out the door.

Marc and Pantros gathered the food sacks and headed out to the carriage. The prince’s drivers had headed back towards Fork with the Inn’s staff, but David had claimed he could handle the team of horses and teach some of the others to do so as well. Moments later they were headed southwest on the Abvian Highway,

The pond reflected the stars and the occasional fiery explosion. Heather sat beside Kehet in his human form. She was concentrating, trying to manipulate the shapes of the blasts of flame. Jonah had produced a book from somewhere in the camp that contained spells for Wizards. According to Heather, the spells could be used verbatim for specific effects, but by taking bits and pieces from each of them, she could produce far more variations of effects.

She had spent the morning practicing throwing balls of fire that would hit a target and splash like they were made of liquid. The afternoon had been spent causing explosions at a distance. She’d managed to get the explosions to radiate in three prongs from the center, but, so far, could only do three equally spaced prongs of flame.

“It’s unfair that I can’t ride you in your other form,” she said, idly bouncing a tiny ball of flame in her palm. “I was a virgin when I first met you, which should count for something. You really don’t understand how much I wish I could ride a Unicorn, specifically you.”

Kehet didn’t want to go into the same argument again, especially not when she was wielding her magic. It’s not like they hadn’t tried. She’d just slipped right off every time. “I wish the same thing,” he said. A few of the times he’d tried explaining how he couldn’t control the rules, but he was unable to say why because he didn’t know. It became more difficult when she brought up that he was a god. This time he chose to simply be sympathetic.

He still didn’t feel like a god. He’d become comfortable with being the ruler of a species that didn’t really insist on recognizing any formalities regarding his position. He didn’t seem to have a whole lot of day to day responsibilities as Prince of the Unicorns. Among the Gypsies the bows had devolved to dignified nods as he approached people. The nods make him far less uncomfortable.

A sharp whistle and thud startled Kehet and Heather. A thick arrow had struck the ground just inches from Heather. The ball of fire in her hand fell to the ground, burning a thin trail as it rolled down the hill into the pond. Kehet picked up his sword and stood, looking for the source of the attack. Heather ran for the trees, back towards camp.