Mickey Reichert: Flight of the Renshai

Saviar's mouth set into a grim line. "Chymmerlee?"

The Myrcidian did not respond, only opened her arms wide and mumbled strings of harsh syllables. Ra-khir's attention flitted between her and the middle ship, where he had seen the glow while holding Saviar's sword. He did not bother to ask what Chymmerlee was doing. It was clearly magic, and he did not want to distract her with foolish questions. He did, however, look askance at his son.

Saviar complied softly. "She's a mage, Papa."

Ra-khir considered. The word made sense in a fairy-tale sort of way. The only known creatures with magic living on the world of men were elves. However, Ra-khir had seen enough of the home of the gods, and of other worlds, in his time to know things existed of which men knew little or nothing. Now, he understood why both boys had insisted on fetching her; she was valuable enough to deserve two Renshai bodyguards. "Elfin blood?" he guessed.

Saviar shook his head. "His aura just flared up," he informed those who could not see it.

Chymmerlee tossed her head suddenly.

The water rushed back toward shore in a large, tumbling mass that rocked the boats wildly and carried those closest to the shore into the sea. At least, the colossal behemoth of water the Kjempemagiska had apparently planned never made it to fruition.

"He knows he lost control of his spell," Chymmerlee explained breathlessly, "but he doesn't know why. He hasn't found me yet. He's convinced by centuries of spying that we have absolutely no magic here."

Centuries of spying? The thought astounded Ra-khir and sent a shiver stabbing through him. They've been among us that long? His mind shot instantly back to his studies, and he did manage to pull out a few oddities.There were references to mages in the distant past, and most people knew of the Cardinal Wizards in stories their parents' told. A few scattered references to giants and oversized weapons spotted the military history texts, and he remembered hearing of a detail about the Great War, hundreds of years past, where huge weapons left by a warrior from across the sea found their way into an armory. "Until the elves came to our world, that was essentially true."

"Essentially," Subikahn muttered.

"He's getting off the ship." Chymmerlee announced, though whether she knew from watching or feeling, Ra-khir did not know. Even he could see an enormous man stepping off a central ship and wading into the foam, apparently oblivious to the frenzy of sharks around him. Water that would have drowned a normal man came only to the middle of his chest. Although Ra-khir no longer saw the aura, he suspected that Chymmerlee and Saviar, who clutched the hilt of the magical sword, did.

As the Kjempemagiska came to shore, he was abruptly mobbed by continental soldiers, their weapons flying and weaving. The giant seemed not to notice. He drew his own massive sword with slow deliberateness and, with a single swipe, dropped ten or twenty men.

"Gods be damned," Ra-khir whispered.

Saviar started running toward the shore; but, before he could take a second step, Chymmerlee snagged his arm. "Wait!"

Saviar stopped so suddenly he had to back step to keep from falling.

"I need you, Saviar. And Subikahn. I need people here to protect me."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Saviar explained hurriedly. "If I keep him busy fighting, he can't harm you."

"True," Chymmerlee admitted. "But once he knows I'm the one constraining him, he'll send his entire army after me. I can't fight them and hinder him at the same time." She sized up her adversary and shook her head. "I'm not that strong, as mages go. One against one, he'd have me. So long as he has to fight your men, however, he can't come directly after me."

"We can't afford to lose her," Subikahn said.

Saviar glared. Clearly, he did not even need that possibility spoken aloud. "We'll stay and protect Chymmerlee. I'm sure the others will see him as their primary target."

Ra-khir looked worriedly at the shore. Men dove on the giant in droves, but he did not even seem to notice their blows. Every one of his strokes, however, effortlessly took down several defenders. At one point, he seemed to crackle with lightning, and warriors toppled in a piled up ring around him. The odor of ozone and charred flesh filled the air.

"No," Chymmerlee gasped. Closing her eyes, she raised her hands and started speaking in odd gutturals. Saviar and Subikahn crouched in front of her. Ra-khir remounted Silver Warrior and circled them warily, prepared to take down any pirate who dared come too close.

"What happened?" Saviar demanded suddenly.

Ra-khir studied the battle on the shore. The soldiers attacking had become more cautious and hesitant, but the bigger change came from the Kjempemagiska. He held his sword in one hand, the other raised as if to do something, and he looked wildly frustrated. His head jerked in all directions, then focused suddenly and intently on the dune.

"I… can… stem… his magic," Chymmerlee panted. "Or… I can… talk. Not both."

Sword readied, Saviar hovered over Chymmerlee while Subikahn crouched quietly in shadow. Ra-khir continued to watch around them. Suddenly, just as Chymmerlee predicted, pirates swarmed toward them.

Both young Renshai leaped into battle, and even Ra-khir found himself hard-pressed for the first time since the war began. Silver Warrior reared and bit while Ra-khir's sword flashed around him. They worked together like a team, well- and long-trained for battle. The sword never gashed the horse; the stallion never unbalanced its rider. Instead, they slashed and stabbed, danced and bit in a wild flurry of warfare. And left a trail of bodies in their wake.

Calistin cut down the last of his enemies with an easy gut slice, then whirled to face more that never materialized. The putrid reek of bowel and blood filled the air, obscuring the odors of sea wrack, death, and sweat. The dying man writhed at his feet; but, for the moment, the Renshai had no opponents. Clutching a dripping sword in each hand, he surveyed the beach. Something, he did not yet know what, had changed significantly. Nearby,Valr Magnus chopped down his own final pirate and found himself as strangely open as Calistin. He crouched, clearly also sensing that the tide of battle had become altered in a big way.

"There!" the general said suddenly, jabbing his sword southward.

Calistin turned to see a giant standing on the shore amid a haphazard pile of continental soldiers. He moved easily, clearly unconcerned about the men hurling themselves at him. A human wall of hacking blades left him without a scratch. He took them down without effort, his movements revealing only derision and contempt. At length, the soldiers dropped back to circle him warily, afraid to move within striking distance of his blade. The pirates' ranks on the shore had noticeably thinned. Either the continental armies had cut most of them down, or they had turned their attentions elsewhere.

No longer racing with exertion, Calistin's heart slowed to a steady pound, like war drums. A smile eased its way onto his face. Finally, it seemed, he had discovered an opponent worthy of his skill. Without hesitation, he charged, battle-screaming. His booted footfalls pounded the packed, wet sand, and his swords streamed lines of scarlet in his wake.

Men from both sides of the war scurried out of Calistin's way, and he found his route to the Kjempemagiska unbarred. As he plunged toward Firuz, he suddenly regretted his decision to run the entire distance. He threw himself into the combat with his legs taxed and his lungs winded, while Firuz only waited, with a curious expression, to receive him. As Calistin drew near, the Kjempemagiska raised his sword suddenly, intending for his crazed opponent to impale himself on the stop thrust.