Dave Smeds: The Sorcery Within

Too late.

The door slammed inward, knocking him to the floor before he could let go of the bar. Three men surged inside. A heavy blue glint reflected off the steel in their hands.

Keron kicked, catching the first man in the groin, sending him crashing into the ceiling. A rafter cracked open the man's skull. The body, however, landed on Keron, thwarting his attempt to rise. The other two assassins closed in.

Keron felt the knives pierce him. One peeled loose a section of his scalp. Another slid along his ribs. He took a stab in the thigh. Only the interference of the corpse prevented a fatal blow.

By then, Keron had a grip on the ankle of one of his attackers. He yanked, pulling the man's knee out of its socket. The man screamed and fell to the side. The effort had left Keron exposed. It cost him a knife in the back, close to the heart. He nearly fainted from the pain. He struck blindly. His elbow connected with something that caved in like a melon.

After that, neither of the assassins lasted very long.

Keron collapsed against a wall. He could sense the blood spurting from the wound in his back. He tried to control his breathing, staving off the shock that would doom him. A few seconds. If he could just last long enough…

He felt the sorcery kiss him, soothing and strong. It worked quickly. The river in his back was stemmed. His tissues begin to knit.

As suddenly as it had come, it left. The magic, as he had feared, had its limit. His distant doctor had done what he could. He had a reprieve, but only the most severe damage had been dealt with. He might still die. The pain was still intense. For a time, he could only shake. He would have made a passive victim for a fourth assassin.

He looked at the lithe, dark-cloaked figures of the men he had killed. He recognized the insignia on their vests. The Claw. Worm's men.

They were good. The Dragon's best. They had almost been good enough.

Stumbling outside, he searched through the underbrush. Soon he saw the crumpled bodies.

Both had been stabbed from behind. Faces of men that he had shared the decks with on long sea voyages stared up empty, slack-jawed and puffy in death. But he had expected no better from the moment he had been attacked.

"Good wind and clear sky," he murmured, and closed their eyes.

The brawling of oeikani disrupted his mourning. The noise came from the stables next to the tavern. Spurred with a final reserve of energy, he limped around the perimeter of the building, arriving at the stable doors just as they swung open.

Luo whipped his animal when he saw Keron, but the Elandri stepped aside, grasped an antler in his good hand, and yanked downward. The oeikani squealed and plunged into the dirt, flipping its rider to a landing so heavy as to dent the roadway. Luo emitted the sick wheeze of someone who has lost all the air his lungs have ever possessed.

"Going somewhere?" Keron asked.

"How?" the silk trader squeaked, when he could breathe.

"I'm strong," Keron replied.

"It wasn't my doing! They forced me!" Luo whined.

"Who forced you? Give me names!"

"I don't know." Luo managed to roll on his side, lifting one hand in supplication.

Keron walked unsteadily forward and picked up the sword that had broken free of Luo's belt on impact. Clothing soaked with blood, skin an unhealthy pallor, he advanced toward the merchant.

"Listen, Elandri! We can bargain!"

Keron chopped through Luo's neck like an executioner. He wiped the steel off on the fine quarn suit of the deceased.

"The best bargain we've ever struck," Keron muttered. He paused only long enough to search the body. He found the pearls he had given Luo earlier, along with another small sack. It contained only five objects. Four were gems of the highest quality. The fifth was another amath pearl. Had the latter not contained a flaw, it would have been fit for a king. As it was, it was still extremely valuable. Keron had rarely seen a specimen this large.

Shouts came from the inn above. Keron glanced up and saw Ampet silhouetted in a window frame. He heard running feet. His ravaged body threatened to buckle, but he had to find safety, a place to heal. The neck of the beast he had downed was broken, so he seized another from the stables, not stopping to look for a saddle. He knocked an oil lamp into straw fodder on his way out and left Eruth blazing with two kinds of fire.

ALEMAR ANDELENYA SPENT THE HEATof the day resting in one of the arroyos common to the region. The banks of the ancient streambed cut deeply and suddenly into the plain, invisible from only a short distance away, a trick characteristic of the land and one that had allowed the T'lil to appear so suddenly at the water hole. The desert riders used canopies to augment the natural shade. To the twins, it was a shock to be free of the burden of sunlight.

The group stretched out on either side of them in a long line. The oeikani were gathered together at a spot where the stream's course widened, where they could be easily guarded. The twins scooted into a shallow fissure, left to themselves, but not enough so that they couldn't be seen at all times. Elenya barely managed to smooth the sand beneath her before she fell asleep.

When she awoke, the sun occupied the opposite quarter of the sky. High above, a huge black bird circled, probably a vulture. For a moment, still half dreaming, she pictured it as a dragon, waiting to dive upon her, flame spouting from its throat. An unlikely fantasy – Gloroc, the Dragon of Elandris, was the only living example of his race within the civilized world, and he wasn't old enough to fly yet.

She heard the snores of napping Zyraii. Other members of the tribe were engaged in games of chance played with three twelve-sided dice. One or two honed their weapons. She uncurled herself, groaned, and noticed that Alemar was awake.

"Haven't you slept?"

"No. Couldn't."

"If you fall off your animal later, don't expect me to pick you up," she said, noting his bloodshot eyes and the heaviness of his lids. She didn't need to ask how he felt; they had been through the eret-Zyraii together.

"Have some salt," he said, handing her their precious supply. She sprinkled some on her tongue and followed it with several swallows of water.

"What now?" She spoke quietly and used the Low Speech of the Cilendri for extra measure, but none of the strangers gave any sign that they were interested in the twins' conversation.

"They know where Setan is. We don't."

"That doesn't help us much if we're prisoners."

They both felt the alert eyes that pretended not to look at them and noted the smooth, feline gait of a warrior walking by. In their state of exhaustion, they couldn't even think to escape. The fight at the water hole had taken what scant reserves they had.

Not far away, a Zyraii relieved himself. Elenya felt no longings from her own bladder, despite the time since she'd last emptied it, but she began thinking.

"Do I look like a man?" she asked, gesturing down at her body. Like her brother, she was short and slender. Although fair-skinned, the sun had tanned them almost to the swarthiness of the Zyraii, and shoulder-length, jet-black hair occasionally peeked out of either of their cowls. The clothing hung so loosely as to completely conceal her small breasts unless she pressed the cloth against herself, and the veil hid the fact that she had no beard.

Alemar squinted at her, as if trying to place himself in an objective viewpoint. "No. But neither do you appear not to be. One would see what one expected to see."

"They made the mistake very easily."

"I know. That's why I didn't correct Lonal. Maybe there's a good reason why you should be a man."

"But they'll know I'm a woman before very long, one way or another."