Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy), page 37
They continued easterly as fast as they dared. When they got close, Lebuin used his precise knowledge of where Ticca was to allow them to circle widely around. They found a safe location to leave their mounts and slowly crept up, using every skill Ticca had taught them, until they were within hearing range of the clearing. They could hear the Nhia-Samri talking to Ticca in a cold voice that sent chills down Lebuin’s back. “Stay awake please, this really isn’t fun unless you are awake to feel it all. Would you care for more healing? Let’s close up this wound here, huh. I think I should maybe give you a little energy boost. Here is a little more stimulant — that’ll keep you going a bit longer, aye?”
Lebuin’s blood boiled as they separated to come from two sides. Moving silently, he timed it so that he and Ditani would emerge at the same time. His steeled himself, blades out to free Ticca. Hopefully she was in good enough condition to move.
Stepping out, he saw that Ticca was trying to spit something out and her clothing was in ruin from all the shallow knife cuts and whip strikes. He grabbed the Nhia-Samri warrior with his telekinetic incantation and lifted him off the ground so he couldn’t move and rushed to Ticca’s side to cut her ropes.
“Lebuin, run. It’s a trap. RUN!”
Lebuin looked up at the man he was holding five feet off the ground. “He can’t do anything up there.”
“Not him, behind you!”
His heart skipped a beat as the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end at the warning. Fear-fueled adrenaline surged through him, letting him start to duck and spin around as a knife cut deeply across his shoulder. He screamed in pain as he lost control of his powers momentarily. The Knife he had been holding in the air dropped and landed well, as if expecting the fall. Lebuin’s training paid off as his feet found footing and his knees bent without real thought, lowering him below the worst of the strike. Damn it. If I hadn’t moved that would have really been bad.
He now was crouched facing a beautiful woman who, like him, had two blades out ready for a fight. For the forest, the woman was amazingly well-dressed. She had a forest-patterned silk shirt over formed padded armor. Her light green leggings were the color of the grasses. She had well-worn but excellently cared for calf-high boots with dull brass buckles. She was wearing a cloak that blended perfectly with the forest. She shifted, bringing her other blade around. He was in the totally wrong position, so he reflexively used his magic as he had practiced with Ditani and it worked, deflecting her blade. He riposted rapidly and she actually had to dodge backwards to avoid the strike.
Ticca’s voice, dripping with anger came unexpectedly from his left rear. “Damn it! When I say ‘run’ I mean ‘run’! You two are going to get us all killed.”
He glanced over and Ticca was no longer tied to the tree behind him. In fact she was diving for her knives by the fire. Her hands and feet were still tied but since the rope had been stretched around a tree it wasn’t exactly a hindrance to her movements without the tree there. How did she get off the tree?
The lady assassin in front of him didn’t give him any more time to think. She stepped in and started attacking him furiously. It was all he could do to block her attacks. Lebuin stepped back, trying to get more space, and she stepped in, keeping the fight close enough he could smell her perfume. She was fast and as they fought she smiled wickedly. He used every trick he had learned using his telekinetics and variations of the patterns that Ticca had shown him. They caught her off-guard and she spun away. I actually am doing this! Lord, I never would have believed I could fight like this! Glancing at Ditani and Ticca he could see that they were doubling up on the other Nhia-Samri. Ditani had a couple of cuts on his arms and his side. But they didn’t slow him down.
I need to stop this so I can help them, that guy might be too much. The girl sheathed one of her knives and parried his attacks one-handed. She was concentrating very hard, trying to open her belt pouch. Whatever is there is not going to be good for me. He pushed himself to go faster. She tried to step backwards to gain space. He knew if he let her get to the pouch it might be over for all of them. So he stepped in close to her. She was forced to block some of his attacks with her open hand by hitting his wrist. That is a neat trick. I should have Ticca teach me that. While he was admiring her bare-handed technique he missed what the other hand was doing. Her blade hit his so hard his hand stung and one of his knives went flying away.
She smiled at this change. Can’t give her a moment. I need another knife. Which is when he spotted that her blade was sheathed with the hilt right in front of him, so he grabbed it.
Ticca dodged as Ossa-Ulla tried to slide his knife across her chest. She stepped back in, trying to get inside his attacks and grapple with him. Keeping it body-to-body was giving her an advantage. He was as fast as she was, but he didn’t have enough training in extreme close combat. Ditani was doing a good job of not becoming a pin cushion and was helping to keep him busy. Still, the two of them were having a problem ending it. He kept slipping between the attacks and counter-attacking.
Finally, the break she was looking for came. He stepped into a depression that he wasn’t expecting. This caused him to have to shift his weight back to the other foot momentarily, leaving him stuck with both legs grounded. If she hadn’t been up close she would have missed the chance. She took it, viciously bringing her knee up dead center into his groin. He flinched in pain and jumped backwards. This gave Ditani an opening to cut downward, planting the point of his knife into Ossa-Ulla’s shoulder. Ossa-Ulla was seriously hurt, but not out of the fight. He dropped to the ground, doing a reverse roll, and coming back up as fast as she could step forward to continue the attack.
He must have been in an insane amount of pain but still he did a lunge back towards her and Ditani, stabbing at them both. To keep from bouncing off of Ditani, Ticca was forced to dodge against her stance. Ditani, thankfully, dodged the opposite direction while parrying his knife. Although desperate, the maneuver gave Ossa-Ulla exactly what he needed; a moment to regain his stance.
Ossa-Ulla jumped back again, landing hard enough to probably jar his genitals back into place. Ticca moved fast, taking three steps up to him, not giving him any time to recover. On his odassi blades were narrow half-inch copper bands at the base, stamped with some kind of symbol. As she brought her dagger up, these symbols exploded with a shining golden light, which surprised Ossa-Ulla more than any of them. It was too late to stop her attack. Ticca’s dagger drove past Ossa-Ulla’s stunned defenses, and directly into his heart. She pulled her dagger out, preparing for another strike, but he was frozen, looking at the glowing symbols on his odassi.
He looked back up at her and smiled. “That explains it. You’re Gods. I have fought Gods and almost won. There can be no higher honor.” Then he fell to the ground dead, smiling as if he had been given the most precious gift of his life.
Ticca spun around and saw that Ditani was staring at Lebuin, who was holding an odassi blade with its symbol glowing brightly. In front of him Runa-Illa was standing, her other odassi in hand, its symbol glowing brightly as she stared at Lebuin slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Her face went suddenly white and her eyes became even wider; she sucked in her breath, dropping to her knees before Lebuin, holding her arm out perfectly straight, her remaining odassi flat between them with the tip raised at a forty-five degree angle. Her head was held down respectfully.
“Forgive me, Lord. I am yours to command.”
- - -
The Warlord was sitting in his throne talking with his tactical advisors when his odassi began to vibrate in their sheaths. Standing, he drew the blades and the maker’s marks were glowing, a bright golden hue that made the whole room as bright as midday. None of the other odassi present reacted and the advisors looked on the Warlord questioningly.
“The Gods have taken Ossa-Ulla and Runa-Illa. Summon my officers; we must determine the meaning of this.”
The mayor of Algan was sitting in his office enjoying another cup of arit as he heard a large carriage draw up. He smiled when his attendant came in. “Ah, is Othulm here already?”
His attendant looked a little white. “No sir.” He opened the double doors wide as a large wolf wearing a golden chain mantle of office, with a large sapphire sigil and a red sash of lordship, limped into the room. “I am ordered to announce His Excellency Duke, Lord of Aelargo.”
The mayor dropped his cup in shock and stood slowly. The wolf stood taller than any horse, and stepping up to the other side of the desk, shoved a chair out of its way, sitting down slowly.
“Your Honor, has a Ticca of Rhini Wood been here yet?”
Behind the wolf in the foyer he saw five Daggers. One was extremely well-dressed, like a lord himself. They all stood silently watching the proceedings.
He felt himself going a little light-headed and tried to sit back into the chair.
- - -
Someone was waving ammonia salts under his nose. He waved his hand to knock the offensive bottle away. Opening his eyes he saw his valet. “Ah, Palthum, I had the strangest dream. I thought a talking wolf came into my office.”
The valet held him firmly and lifted him into his chair. After that he moved aside and the wolf was still there.
“You Honor, I must apologize for causing such a reaction. However, I am in a bit of a hurry. Are you well now?”
The mayor looked at his valet and his attendant, then back to the wolf. He sat up straighter and tried to find something to snap him back to reality. “I need a drink please.”
The wolf looked at a Dagger. “Nigan, get the mayor a brandy shot, please.”
The well-dressed Dagger stepped quickly over to the small bar and sniffed at a couple of the bottles there before pouring one into a small glass and bringing it over. He handed it to the valet. “Here, this will help.” The Dagger then looked back at the wolf. “Sir, we could have just come in ourselves.”
The wolf shook its head. “No, then you would have brought him out and this would have happened in the yard instead of someplace with a soft carpet and brandy nearby.”
The mayor took the drink and then sat up a little straighter. “You are Duke, as in the Duke from long ago. It was said you were immortal but I didn’t really believe most of what I read or heard.”
“Ah smart fellow, that is good, as most of it was highly understated anyway. Now Your Honor, if you are feeling better I only need to know if a Ticca of Rhini Wood has been here, and if so, what happened.”
The mayor looked at his valet and waved him off. “Excellency, yes she was here early yesterday morning. She had papers showing that a Ditani had inherited Magus Vestul’s property due to the untimely death of Magus Vestul. Unfortunately-”
Duke cut him off. “The house had already burned down. So she left town rapidly. Which way did she go?”
The mayor nodded. “I believe she left heading east. The guards reported she was moving fast.”
Another Dagger stepped up. “So she knew it was a trap. How did we miss her?”
Duke thought for a moment. “She cut off the road for the forest. She must have been trying to get them to reveal their presence. She could then lay a trap or lose them. We are one day behind her and her pursuers.” Duke looked back at another Dagger. “Alpha Two and Three, rabbit hunt east.” Two Daggers bolted towards the front courtyard. Moments later several horses galloped out of the courtyard.
Duke looked back at the mayor. “Did she take anything from Magus Vestul’s house?”
The mayor couldn’t get more surprised. “No Excellency, she inspected it only briefly. She opened a safe but the contents were totally destroyed. She didn’t open the tower door, which is still sealed.”
Duke thought about this. Then he looked at the town’s relic. “Did Ticca come into this office?”
He nodded yes.
“Mayor, please put that on the desk in front of me.”
Not understanding the request, but understanding that saying ‘no’ wasn’t an option, he stood and carefully lifted the sealed gold-bound book and gently placed it on the desk before Duke. “This is the ancient relic of Algan. It has sat in this house since the beginning of the city. However, it opens for no one.”
Duke looked at it carefully. He raised his front paw and placed it gently on the top of the book and said “Aperi.” The seal on the book’s center lock turned a quarter turn and all the locks fell open.
The mayor looked at the book and then at Duke, who put his paw back down. “The stories are true. You were here at the beginning.”
Duke smiled but didn’t answer. “Nigan, open it to the last page please.”
Nigan stepped forward and carefully opened the book, then flipped through the pages. The pages were heavy rich paper but Nigan turned through an impossible number of them to find the last page. He laid the book open on a half-empty page. There were neat lines of print in a foreign language half-filling the page. Duke looked down and read it. “Oh Damn It!” He looked up — there was shock and surprise in his eyes.
After recovering from the shock Duke howled once like a hunting dog. “Nigan, close that book and put it back where it came from!”
Duke touched the sapphire on his mantle, which opened a release, letting it drop to the ground. He stood. Ducking, he shrugged out of the sash. The Daggers had already moved to make a hole for him the moment he howled. “Not again! Alpha, follow if you can, this might be a deer hunt.” With that he spun and sprang out through the foyer.
Turning around the mayor saw the wolf had exited the house and was already on the other side of the courtyard heading out the gate turning east.
Nigan quickly closed the book and the latches sprang up by themselves, relocking. He ran with the book to put it in place. Turning, he touched the brim of his hat. “Thank you, Your Honor, please excuse us. Urgent business.” He bolted to catch up with the other Daggers, who had already left. There was the sound of many warriors whooping as the rest of the horses galloped out to the street, also turning east.
He sat down and his valet stepped over and picked up the mantle and sash. “Your Honor, what should we do with these?”
“Keep them very safe. I have no doubt someone will be by to collect them. We haven’t seen the last of any of them.”
Two officers carried the trunk between them as they walked respectfully behind Eshra-Zunia. They marched together down the hallway lined with the swords and armor of hundreds of defeated enemies. At the end of the hall, before the two tall iron doors with their broken shield handles, stood eight honor guards, four on each side. They did not move, and Eshra-Zunia stepped between them, pushing the doors open before her, hard and loudly. She stood there, feet wide, hands on her hips, frowning into the room. Twelve officers were in conference with the Warlord, but their conversation stopped suddenly as she opened the doors.
The Warlord stood, placing his hands on the hilts of his odassi. “What is the meaning of this?”
Eshra-Zunia paused a moment to emphasize her authority over the others, except for the Warlord himself. They quickly realized their oversight and stepped back from the table, bowing. The corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. The corner of the Warlord’s lips raised marginally in a quick smile as he almost imperceptibly nodded to her, commending her for reminding the officers of their places. She lowered her eyes respectfully for a moment, thanking him for the high praise.
“Lord, Llino has opened its gates and traffic is flowing normally. We have retrieved the document cache. None remain of the outpost.”
The Warlord thought on this for a moment. “What of Duke?”
“Lord, he has abandoned the city with a squad of Daggers. He is heavily wounded and rides in a pillowed carriage pulled by four quarter horses. He pushes for speed westerly.”
“Are you sure none survived?”
“I am sure. My Lord, just after Duke left a pair of ornate open carriages drawn by white mares also left, bearing west. Each driven by a small boy wearing white, emblazoned with Duke’s sigil. We intercepted them, as they were clearly for us. On our approach the boys stopped the carriages, descended and bowed respectfully, then began walking back to Llino.” Her face hardened. “The first carried only the heads of our warriors stacked high and visibly surmounted by the head of the Llino station commander. His head was pinned in place with his own odassi with broken bands for all to see. In each mouth was a paper; I checked only two.”
The Warlord’s face flushed red with anger. “Broken bands!” The Warlord paced furiously. Then he stopped and looked at her with anger burning in his eyes. “Why only two?”
“Lord, they were identical. I needed look no further at the atrocity to know every mouth carried the same message.” She held out a bloody paper.
The Warlord motioned and a servant came from the side, taking the paper and running to bow before the Warlord, holding it out. The Warlord took it and read. He sat down on his throne heavily as he finished it. “We must warn Hisuru Amajoo.”
“Lord, I have already sent our fastest courier with the second copy, a description of the two carts and the commander’s broken odassi. Hisuru Amajoo will know these details in not more than ten days.”
The Warlord looked up at her and nodded. “Very good. You only mentioned the contents of the first, dare I ask the contents of the second carriage?”
Eshra-Zunia, feeling light-headed, took a moment to gain the strength to answer. Softly she said, “Lord, the second contained every odassi — we counted and checked the records — every single one, with its band broken by the commander’s odassi.” The Warlord stood, enraged, the veins on the side of his neck pulsing with anger as he grimaced, his face turning dark red, his eyes narrowed with intensity. At this the twelve officers cried out, falling to the floor, prostrating themselves before the Warlord, as did the honor guards, the men with Eshra-Zunia, and Eshra-Zunia herself.
The Warlord screamed, drawing his blades. He held them high and bellowed, “DUKE! YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR!” The room was filled with a bright yellow-orange light from the Warlords’ blades and he brought them down on the large stone table before him. There was a tremendous explosion of light and sound.
