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<blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 5491184" data-attributes="member: 63"><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong>Chapter Twelve</strong></span></p><p> </p><p> The discussion between the others spiked in volume, and Rivereye turned at the sound of Diogenes’ exclamation.</p><p> </p><p> “No,” the mage said, “it’s a fine idea. I just don’t appreciate the situation you’ve gotten me into.”</p><p> </p><p> “Go peck about it later,” Rantle snapped. “Just find us a place we can kill them, Kathor.”</p><p> </p><p> Haddin began to cough, and Crystin started to shake her head, her eyes struggling to focus. Rivereye recognized it as the expression of someone coming out of mind control; the inquisitors at the imperial palace used such magic almost as entertainment.</p><p> </p><p> Crystin said, “What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p> “Quiet,” coughed Haddin casually.</p><p> </p><p> And Crystin became quiet.</p><p> </p><p> Rivereye squinted at Haddin, but then looked to Crystin with concern.</p><p> </p><p> “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’ll get us to safety. Rantle’s saved our lives twice already.”</p><p> </p><p> “Is he the one who punched me?” Haddin said.</p><p> </p><p> Rivereye shrugged. “Don’t know, but it was Kathor who dragged your unconscious wart of a body out of the house.”</p><p> </p><p> Haddin glared at him, and Rivereye grinned back with a smile that said, ‘I’m not important enough to deserve the time you would spend killing me.’ Everyone who worked in the palace had perfected that smile, or else they led a very boring life without ever having a chance to insult their taskmasters.</p><p> </p><p> Kathor whistled and waved to get their attention.</p><p> </p><p> “The ash is too thick,” he said, pointing at the ground. “There’s no way they’ll miss our trail even through the woods, so <em>that</em> is our best bet.”</p><p> </p><p> He pointed to a rocky spur just down the road. It rose a jagged twenty feet above the right side of the highway. Burning brush and trees atop the spur provided cover but it was rocky and broad enough that in a few places a man could stand without being in fire. The larger trees of the forest provided enough concealment that the rags wouldn’t see them until they were less than twenty feet away. And something seemed to be moving in the flames beyond the trees. . . .</p><p> </p><p> It was only a moment, but Rivereye felt certain the fire was watching him. He blinked and the impression faded.</p><p> </p><p> Torrent said, “You’re one of them. How do we fight them?”</p><p> </p><p> Kathor did not reply for a moment, though Rivereye couldn’t tell if he was brooding over an answer, or was offended to be asked. Everyone waited, until finally he nodded.</p><p> </p><p> “We cut around the spur to the right,” Kathor said. “Make them think we’re going into the forest. The terrain’s too rough for horses or bows, so you can draw them into close quarters. Their horses won’t go into the flaming brush-”</p><p> </p><p> Rivereye snorted.</p><p> </p><p> “-so they’ll have to dismount. I’ll circle around and stay out of sight on the other side of the road, and catch them in a pincer. The inquisitor will likely hang back, so you just have to worry about the soldiers.</p><p> </p><p> “You, your name’s Rivereye?”</p><p> </p><p> Surprised to be addressed directly, Rivereye nodded. “Yes. I can fight.”</p><p> </p><p> “Good, but I need you as look-out on top of the rock to let me know when it is clear to flank them. Mage.”</p><p> </p><p> Diogenes was tapping his foot anxiously. “Eh?”</p><p> </p><p> “An inquisitor means your magic’s more of a liability than an aid. You any good with a sword?”</p><p> </p><p> “I didn’t go to eight years of overpriced arcane education to learn swordplay. I can handle the inquisitor. Or actually, I can handle whoever’s with him. I need you to put your swords in the inquisitor before his men put their swords through me. That’s how these things work.”</p><p> </p><p> Rantle said, “Oh, so you’re not just going to run away this time?”</p><p> </p><p> “Better than playing ‘archery target’ for the Ragesians,” Diogenes said.</p><p> </p><p> Kathor interrupted. “Check your arm, mage. You’re giving away your trick.”</p><p> </p><p> Diogenes looked at his fake arm with surprise, then awkwardly wiggled the arrow out.</p><p> </p><p> Next Kathor pointed at Torrent and Rantle. “You two stay close to the mage.”</p><p> </p><p> “I lost my sword,” Rantle said.</p><p> </p><p> Kathor frowned, then drew a hand-and-a-half sword from a sheath on his saddle and passed it to Rantle.</p><p> </p><p> “What if there are too many?” Rantle asked.</p><p> </p><p> Kathor actually smiled, for the first time since Rivereye had seen him. “If there are too many, they kill us. Get moving.”</p><p> </p><p> As the others started to head off the road on foot, Kathor looked to Haddin.</p><p> </p><p> “You, old man,” he said. “Your daughter said you’re a mage too.”</p><p> </p><p> The wind picked up, and a blinding cloud of ash blew across them.</p><p> </p><p> “I did not want-,” Haddin started, then had to cough. “Did not want to come with you, so it’s fortunate I am no good-,” he spat dryly and cleared his throat, “no good in a battle, so now I don’t have to help you. My daughter and I will-,” he coughed, “stay in cover.”</p><p> </p><p> During the man’s coughing Rivereye had noticed him glancing back up the road, clearly nervous despite his bluster.</p><p> </p><p> “Fine,” Kathor said. “You and your daughter just stay out of the way behind the spur. Rivereye, up on the spur, and hide. When at least some of them have left the road to go after the others, shout to me. Be loud.”</p><p> </p><p> Haddin and Crystin mounted the horse Rantle had ridden in on, and then followed Kathor as he rode off the side of the road and then around to the rock spur’s backside. The father and daughter stopped and hid, while Kathor continued on, eventually reaching a nice ambush spot on one side of the road. By circling around the rock spur he had not left any tracks that could be seen from the road itself. </p><p> </p><p> Rantle, Diogenes, and Torrent stopped at a spot just around the curve of the outcropping, out of sight of the road. </p><p> </p><p> They were all so well-hidden, and as Rivereye climbed up the many ledges of the rock spur he felt horrifyingly vulnerable. He settled in on a patch of ground with no flame that was hidden behind a large rock.</p><p> </p><p> Looking down, to his right was a nearly twenty foot drop to the ash-covered highway, though if he needed to he could probably slide down the rock face without hurting himself. To his left, Rantle, Diogenes, and Torrent waited behind cover of trees and scorched boulders. Slightly ahead and on the right side of the road, Kathor sat checking his armor and patting his horse’s mane reassuringly, while behind him, about forty feet away, Haddin and Crystin sat on the other horse. The father held a rag over his mouth, coughing. The daughter simply sat still, even as a spray of cinders nearly seared her face.</p><p> </p><p> Rivereye peeked over the top of his rock, and saw the Ragesians approaching. </p><p> </p><p> Seven riders churned up ash as their horses galloped in, and what appeared to be a man-sized hound in a white cloak led them ten feet ahead. Four of the riders wore light Ragesian cavalry armor – crimson leather trimmed with bear fur for the winter – and each held an axe and shield at ready, with short compound bows on their saddles. Behind them rode a pair of scale-armored soldiers bearing the fireball standard upon their tabards and wielding long, spear-tipped poleaxes, marking them as middle-ranked armsmen. </p><p> </p><p> Like bodyguards, these two rode flanking the final rider, the inquisitor. He wore no armor except the bear skull mask that shielded his soul from sorcery, wielded no weapon except an articulated bronze claw on his right hand. Clattering charms covered his hirsute body, some primitive tribal medallions, others religious icons cast in iron, and many of more obscure eldritch nature. His skin was the sickly brown color of rotting bark, and though the mask hid most of his face, by his size and by the short tusks jutting from his lower jaw, he was clearly a herethim. Within the empty sockets of the bear skull forest flame reflected dull red off his eyes.</p><p> </p><p> As they closed, Rivereye realized the creature guiding them was no hound. It loped on all fours, but its gait was uneven, and its head was shaggy with plaited blond hair. They were only forty feet away when the air grew strangely heavy and the hound scrambled to a stop, and Rivereye could finally see the strange creature clearly.</p><p> </p><p> It was a han woman, her limbs bent in an unnatural position to let her stride like a wolf, her flesh pale like a corpse. She wore a common winter cloak and coat, as well as a bracelet on one wrist, and her fingers dug into the ash like talons. Her neck twisted in ways that would have killed a normal person, letting her look forward while her body was bent over. She peered around with a serene, and almost sleepy expression, but her cheeks sat hollow and gaunt, and her stringy hair hung unevenly, falling out in clumps. </p><p> </p><p> The riders reined their horses to a stop around the twisted woman-like creature. It sniffed the air, and its head lolled from side to side with jerks and twitches as it scanned its surroundings. It looked up at Rivereye and he nearly cried out.</p><p> </p><p> He had heard the tales in the court, tales of monsters from the realms where evil souls were sent for punishment, beyond the gates of ruin. Whatever old gods watched over the world kept the monsters from actually traveling across the black gulf of death, but they could inhabit the bodies of the living and recently slain.</p><p> </p><p> The inquisitors trafficked in death, and one of the older court staff – a jen named Bahurel, who seldom talked – would, in those rare instances he did speak, mutter stories of captives tortured to the brink of death. The inquisitors would tear out a dying man’s soul and offer it to one of those horrors beyond the mortal ring, beckoning it to our world.</p><p> </p><p> Rivereye saw this thing’s eyes for just a moment, but he knew what it was: a demon.</p><p> </p><p> Despite his fear, Rivereye forced himself to watch, if for nothing else than to make sure the creature did not come for him. The forest growled, and a thick gust of cinders sprayed down the roadway. The Ragesians covered their faces, but the twisted creature did not look away. Undisturbed by the fire, it kept its gaze locked at the rock Rivereye hid behind, then finally looked away when the inquisitor called out to it.</p><p> </p><p> The inquisitor and his creature spoke too quietly for Rivereye to hear, and after a moment the woman snarled and stood up on her hind legs. No longer held by the creature’s gaze, Rivereye ducked behind the rock and began to breathe again. </p><p> </p><p> It would not be that bad if he just hid and fled after the battle was over, he told himself. He was still hurt from the day before, and would be useless in a fight anyway, and someone would need to live to tell the tale of their deaths.</p><p> </p><p> But a pang of guilt reminded him that Rantle and Diogenes had come to rescue him, and now they were in this together. He gulped to focus himself, and knowing he couldn’t risk any more hiding, he slowly raised his head to peer over the rock.</p><p> </p><p> The inquisitor, the monstrous woman, and indeed the whole entourage of soldiers were looking straight at him. The inquisitor casually clawed at the air with a gesture Rivereye recognized from the many times he had spied on other inquisitors practicing. It was a spell, or rather a counterspell, intended to strip magic away and pull it into the inquisitor’s grasp.</p><p> </p><p> Invisible claws tore across Rivereye’s face, and he ducked and screamed as blood sprayed into the air before his eyes. It was the worst pain he had ever known, but as he fell to the ground he knew something else far worse had happened. He felt a horrifying heat in his lungs as the magic that had protected him from the fire forest was torn from him. The air burned his chest, the stone seared his flesh, and as the roaring inferno battered him with its fury, he cried out and fell helpless to the ground.</p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p> </p><p> Rantle told himself he didn’t have time to mourn or regret what he had done. What had happened with Sorra was owed a great deal of regret, and if he didn’t live through this fight now he wouldn’t have nearly enough time for it all.</p><p> </p><p> He was hiding behind a boulder of jagged black rock that had fallen free from the rock spur. Torrent crouched behind another boulder a man’s length away, her axe drawn back to hack off the feet of the first rag who came through the gap between them. She whispered a prayer or a chant for a spell, and looked far calmer than Rantle felt.</p><p> </p><p> Ten feet further away, the coward Diogenes stood confidently behind a tree thicker than Rantle’s boulder. The mage, who Rantle was certain could have prevented Sorra’s death if he hadn’t fled, lit a cigarette with a grin by holding it to the tree’s burning bark, then took a drag. The man’s eyes closed for a moment as he savored the tobacco, and then he threw the cigarette away.</p><p> </p><p> Rantle couldn’t afford to hate the man now. He just tightened his grip on his sword and peeked around the boulder. </p><p> </p><p> Forty feet away, through rough terrain filled with burning brambles and thorned trees, Rantle spied the Ragesians. A woman in white had just stood up from the ash, speaking with a huge herethim wearing an animal skull as a mask, while six mounted Ragesian soldiers – some han, some herethim – looked around warily. Something was wrong with the woman, and Rantle felt the muscles in his neck seize up as he saw her head jerk in an impossible movement, angling upward. She pointed an emaciated hand toward the top of the rock spur, and all the Ragesians looked where she pointed.</p><p> </p><p> Rantle turned and looked up as well, barely making out Rivereye in his hiding place. The jispin had ducked and hidden, and looked like he was about to pass out from panic.</p><p> </p><p> “They saw him,” Rantle said, just loud enough for Torrent to hear. “The rags know where Rivereye’s hiding.”</p><p> </p><p> Torrent said, “He’s safe if he stays down. Don’t ruin the-”</p><p> </p><p> Just then Rivereye stood, but he ducked again almost immediately, crying out with pain and falling where the rock obscured him from Rantle. The inquisitor must have done some magic against him, but there was no way Rantle could get to the jispin without revealing himself to the Ragesians. He kicked the boulder in frustration at being helpless again, but just when he was about to step out and rush the Ragesians, Diogenes preempted him.</p><p> </p><p> The mage kept his right foot planted and spun out to the left, emerging from the cover of his tree. He shouted and cast one hand out toward the Ragesians, and flames crackled across his palm. Then the fire from all the scattered brush seemed to coalesce into a pair of burning wolves which leapt forward, snarling and roaring toward the inquisitor and his guards. Less than a heartbeat after emerging, Diogenes pivoted back into cover.</p><p> </p><p> “Kill them, my hounds!” he shouted.</p><p> </p><p> Rantle looked out from cover for a moment, unsure of what to do, but Diogenes held out a warning hand.</p><p> </p><p> “Don’t move,” Diogenes called to him. “I’ve got their attention. And look out for illusions; the inquisitor might recast my spell.”</p><p> </p><p> “What?” Rantle called back.</p><p> </p><p> He was not sure what the mage meant, but already the Ragesians were looking in their direction, and the soldiers struggled to keep their horses calm as two ululating hellhounds charged them. Two Ragesians with polearms swung out of their saddles and interposed themselves between the hounds and their inquisitor commander, while the inquisitor stood high in his saddle, holding his open hand outward at where Diogenes was hiding. From all the stories Rantle had heard, the inquisitor should have been using his power to destroy Diogenes’s conjured beasts, but the man simply ignored them.</p><p> </p><p> The hounds leapt in, and most of the horses broke in fear, their riders struggling to disentangle themselves from stirrups before they were carried away. The two guards swung at the hounds, but when their weapons swept through the creatures without wounding them, the men fell back screaming.</p><p> </p><p> Glancing over, Rantle spotted Diogenes stepping out from behind the tree again, only somehow there were two of him, one still in cover. The one who was hiding looked like he was concentrating intensely, while the one who had stepped out gestured as if to cast another spell. At the road, the inquisitor, still seemingly unconcerned with the fiery hounds, finally moved. He grasped at the air and shouted something just as the one Diogenes cast a spell. As soon as the inquisitor shouted, the Diogenes out in the open vanished, his body disappearing like a painting being clawed apart, and the other Diogenes who had been hiding pivoted out into the open, aiming with splayed fingers at the soldiers struggling to dismount.</p><p> </p><p> The inquisitor spun his head to watch his soldiers begin to struggle to get back into their saddles, looks of unfounded horror on their faces. The inquisitor threw up his hands, a gesture not of magic but of frustration, and Rantle realized Diogenes had done something to infuriate him.</p><p> </p><p> Rantle looked back up at where Rivereye had fallen, then to Torrent.</p><p> </p><p> “I’ll get the jispin,” he said, “then shout for Kathor to attack.”</p><p> </p><p> “Stay put,” Diogenes hissed. “Follow the damned plan!”</p><p> </p><p> Rantle wavered, then heard brush and twigs snapping as some of the Ragesians charged in. Diogenes stepped out from cover again, normally a foolish move, but when the mage turned and ran, Rantle realized his path would draw the Ragesians straight between him and Torrent. Rantle drew back his sword and nodded to Torrent.</p><p> </p><p> The first of the Ragesians, a well-armored herethim with a poleaxe, rushed through the gap between them, raising his weapon to cut down Diogenes. Instead, Torrent chopped into the warrior’s ankle, cleaving off his foot. The man screamed and fell, and when the second warrior followed through the gap a moment later he was already in mid-swing to strike Torrent, but Rantle spun out from behind his boulder and slashed upward. </p><p> </p><p> He was aiming for the man’s wrist, but caught the haft of the poleaxe instead. His blade stopped the warrior’s blow but got lodged deep into the wood, and the Ragesian yanked his weapon away, wrenching Rantle’s sword out of his hand. Before the man could draw back his long polearm for another attack, Rantle stepped inside his reach, snapping a dagger out of his armpit sheath. He tried to stab up into the Ragesian’s throat, but the man deflected the attack with the haft of his weapon, then quickly spun the haft back around, pressing it into the side of Rantle’s neck and torquing sideways.</p><p> </p><p> Before he knew what was happening, Rantle was knocked off his feet and shoved down into fiery grass. The Ragesian landed heavily on Rantle’s back, using his poleaxe to pin Rantle’s head and one of his arms to the ground. For an instant Rantle tried to push or roll free, but then the Ragesian stopped struggling. He felt blood splatter across him, and he managed to turn and look up to see Torrent pulling her axe out of the warrior’s head with a wet suction.</p><p> </p><p> The sound of the inquisitor’s voice pulled Rantle’s attention to the road, where the skull-masked mage was rallying his four remaining warriors. Diogenes’s hellhounds had vanished somewhere. The eerie woman was bending over onto all fours, and when her milky-eyed gaze met Rantle’s, she snarled like a beast. The inquisitor spun to look in their direction and began to reach out with his clawed hand.</p><p> </p><p> “Move!” Torrent shouted.</p><p> </p><p> She grabbed Rantle by his armpit to try to pull him back behind cover. The air rushed like wind, and Torrent cried out. Rantle shoved the dead Ragesian off his back, then scrambled through the burning brush back to the cover of his boulder. Torrent also leapt away, and when they were both out of sight, Rantle saw Torrent holding her belly. Blood was gushing out in four parallel lines as if she had been slashed, but her clothes were untouched.</p><p> </p><p> “Can you move?” Rantle asked.</p><p> </p><p> The Ragesian who was missing his foot was still howling in pain. Rantle reached over and plunged his dagger into the man’s neck, and the man stopped moving.</p><p> </p><p> “Not well,” Torrent said. “Huh. I think this might be mortal.”</p><p> </p><p> Rantle reached out with his left hand to grab Torrent and help her move, but the air rushed like it had just before. He pulled his arm back into cover but too slowly, and wide gashes tore open the back of his hand and his arm.</p><p> </p><p> He bit his lip and growled in pain, then realized he could hear the other Ragesians pressing through the forest toward him. At that instant the first of the remaining Ragesians soldiers appeared in the corner of Rantle’s eye. Expecting an attack, Rantle ducked and stabbed upward at the soldier’s belly, but his knife went through the man completely, and his momentum carried him through the warrior’s body, which tore apart like he was jumping through a sheet of paper.</p><p> </p><p> More soldiers swarmed him, and Rantle slashed furiously to try to keep them at bay, but none of his blows met any resistance when he hit, and when the Ragesians attacked back, their blades were harmless. Then he heard Torrent shout a warning to Diogenes, and he realized he’d been tricked by the inquisitor’s magic. </p><p> </p><p> Looking back, he saw that the actual soldiers had gotten off their horses, cut through the woods to their side, and had flanked them. Diogenes had leapt out from behind his cover and was now running back in Rantle’s direction, away from the soldiers and <em>toward</em> the inquisitor. Torrent had staggered to her feet, and she held up her shield as best she could to block any more magic from the inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p> As Rantle came out of cover, however, rescue seemed at hand, for the inquisitor was looking away at Kathor, who was riding hard out of the woods, his massive sword was drawn back for a blow that would cut a man in half.</p><p> </p><p> The inquisitor swept his claw at Kathor, and Kathor grunted with pain as streaks of blood sprayed out of his armor along his right arm, but he kept riding. Then, just as he was about to strike, the pale monstrous woman sprung into the air at him. Kathor’s blade struck her full in her chest, but the thing did not blink at the impact. It dug one clawed hand into Kathor’s horse’s neck, the other into Kathor’s shoulder, and then tore Kathor from his saddle.</p><p> </p><p> Diogenes did some sort of magic, but the inquisitor clenched his fist as if catching it, and then shoved both hands at Diogenes, knocking him to the ground from thirty feet away.</p><p> </p><p> “Kill that son of a-” Diogenes was yelling, when a Ragesian caught up to him from behind and planted an axe in his wooden arm, turning the mage’s shouts to panicked shrieks.</p><p> </p><p> The inquisitor raised his hand to aim some magic to finish off Diogenes, but Kathor’s horse, still intent on its original target, reared and kicked at the Ragesian. The inquisitor wheeled his horse so that it would take the blow instead, and two hooves slammed into the confused mount’s head. Blood burst from its nose and its crushed eye, and then the inquisitor’s horse reeled and threw its rider, who fell into the ash.</p><p> </p><p> Rantle pushed himself into a sprint, and he charged at the inquisitor, knowing he had to kill the rag before he got back up. To his left, four soldiers had surrounded Torrent and Diogenes. To his right, Kathor grappled the unnatural pale creature on the ground, punching it with gauntleted fists. And behind him, just as Rantle was about to lunge at the inquisitor with nothing more than a dagger, he heard another horse charging in, and he realized Crystin and her wretched old father were riding to join the battle. The inquisitor’s skeletal gaze turned to face them, and Rantle thought he might have a chance.</p><p> </p><p> But then Haddin coughed out the words to a spell of some sort, and the inquisitor caught it in his clawed hand. Rantle swung his knife up at the inquisitor’s belly, but the huge herethim deflected the attack with his metal claw. Rantle struggled to make another stab, but the inquisitor clamped his other hand onto Rantle’s shoulder and punched him in the face with the palm of his claw.</p><p> </p><p> The magic the inquisitor had caught from Haddin seared his skin and forced its way into him. Rantle felt like fish hooks digging through the inside of his skin, and the strings were pulling inward, coiling into knots, keeping him from moving.</p><p> </p><p> The Ragesian inquisitor’s magic held his body like a puppeteer preparing for a show. Icy breath blew across Rantle’s ear as the inquisitor spoke.</p><p> </p><p> “Kill those you came with.”</p><p> </p><p> The strings pulled, the knots shifted, and Rantle found himself turning to Diogenes.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RangerWickett, post: 5491184, member: 63"] [size=3][B]Chapter Twelve[/B][/size] The discussion between the others spiked in volume, and Rivereye turned at the sound of Diogenes’ exclamation. “No,” the mage said, “it’s a fine idea. I just don’t appreciate the situation you’ve gotten me into.” “Go peck about it later,” Rantle snapped. “Just find us a place we can kill them, Kathor.” Haddin began to cough, and Crystin started to shake her head, her eyes struggling to focus. Rivereye recognized it as the expression of someone coming out of mind control; the inquisitors at the imperial palace used such magic almost as entertainment. Crystin said, “What’s going on?” “Quiet,” coughed Haddin casually. And Crystin became quiet. Rivereye squinted at Haddin, but then looked to Crystin with concern. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’ll get us to safety. Rantle’s saved our lives twice already.” “Is he the one who punched me?” Haddin said. Rivereye shrugged. “Don’t know, but it was Kathor who dragged your unconscious wart of a body out of the house.” Haddin glared at him, and Rivereye grinned back with a smile that said, ‘I’m not important enough to deserve the time you would spend killing me.’ Everyone who worked in the palace had perfected that smile, or else they led a very boring life without ever having a chance to insult their taskmasters. Kathor whistled and waved to get their attention. “The ash is too thick,” he said, pointing at the ground. “There’s no way they’ll miss our trail even through the woods, so [I]that[/I] is our best bet.” He pointed to a rocky spur just down the road. It rose a jagged twenty feet above the right side of the highway. Burning brush and trees atop the spur provided cover but it was rocky and broad enough that in a few places a man could stand without being in fire. The larger trees of the forest provided enough concealment that the rags wouldn’t see them until they were less than twenty feet away. And something seemed to be moving in the flames beyond the trees. . . . It was only a moment, but Rivereye felt certain the fire was watching him. He blinked and the impression faded. Torrent said, “You’re one of them. How do we fight them?” Kathor did not reply for a moment, though Rivereye couldn’t tell if he was brooding over an answer, or was offended to be asked. Everyone waited, until finally he nodded. “We cut around the spur to the right,” Kathor said. “Make them think we’re going into the forest. The terrain’s too rough for horses or bows, so you can draw them into close quarters. Their horses won’t go into the flaming brush-” Rivereye snorted. “-so they’ll have to dismount. I’ll circle around and stay out of sight on the other side of the road, and catch them in a pincer. The inquisitor will likely hang back, so you just have to worry about the soldiers. “You, your name’s Rivereye?” Surprised to be addressed directly, Rivereye nodded. “Yes. I can fight.” “Good, but I need you as look-out on top of the rock to let me know when it is clear to flank them. Mage.” Diogenes was tapping his foot anxiously. “Eh?” “An inquisitor means your magic’s more of a liability than an aid. You any good with a sword?” “I didn’t go to eight years of overpriced arcane education to learn swordplay. I can handle the inquisitor. Or actually, I can handle whoever’s with him. I need you to put your swords in the inquisitor before his men put their swords through me. That’s how these things work.” Rantle said, “Oh, so you’re not just going to run away this time?” “Better than playing ‘archery target’ for the Ragesians,” Diogenes said. Kathor interrupted. “Check your arm, mage. You’re giving away your trick.” Diogenes looked at his fake arm with surprise, then awkwardly wiggled the arrow out. Next Kathor pointed at Torrent and Rantle. “You two stay close to the mage.” “I lost my sword,” Rantle said. Kathor frowned, then drew a hand-and-a-half sword from a sheath on his saddle and passed it to Rantle. “What if there are too many?” Rantle asked. Kathor actually smiled, for the first time since Rivereye had seen him. “If there are too many, they kill us. Get moving.” As the others started to head off the road on foot, Kathor looked to Haddin. “You, old man,” he said. “Your daughter said you’re a mage too.” The wind picked up, and a blinding cloud of ash blew across them. “I did not want-,” Haddin started, then had to cough. “Did not want to come with you, so it’s fortunate I am no good-,” he spat dryly and cleared his throat, “no good in a battle, so now I don’t have to help you. My daughter and I will-,” he coughed, “stay in cover.” During the man’s coughing Rivereye had noticed him glancing back up the road, clearly nervous despite his bluster. “Fine,” Kathor said. “You and your daughter just stay out of the way behind the spur. Rivereye, up on the spur, and hide. When at least some of them have left the road to go after the others, shout to me. Be loud.” Haddin and Crystin mounted the horse Rantle had ridden in on, and then followed Kathor as he rode off the side of the road and then around to the rock spur’s backside. The father and daughter stopped and hid, while Kathor continued on, eventually reaching a nice ambush spot on one side of the road. By circling around the rock spur he had not left any tracks that could be seen from the road itself. Rantle, Diogenes, and Torrent stopped at a spot just around the curve of the outcropping, out of sight of the road. They were all so well-hidden, and as Rivereye climbed up the many ledges of the rock spur he felt horrifyingly vulnerable. He settled in on a patch of ground with no flame that was hidden behind a large rock. Looking down, to his right was a nearly twenty foot drop to the ash-covered highway, though if he needed to he could probably slide down the rock face without hurting himself. To his left, Rantle, Diogenes, and Torrent waited behind cover of trees and scorched boulders. Slightly ahead and on the right side of the road, Kathor sat checking his armor and patting his horse’s mane reassuringly, while behind him, about forty feet away, Haddin and Crystin sat on the other horse. The father held a rag over his mouth, coughing. The daughter simply sat still, even as a spray of cinders nearly seared her face. Rivereye peeked over the top of his rock, and saw the Ragesians approaching. Seven riders churned up ash as their horses galloped in, and what appeared to be a man-sized hound in a white cloak led them ten feet ahead. Four of the riders wore light Ragesian cavalry armor – crimson leather trimmed with bear fur for the winter – and each held an axe and shield at ready, with short compound bows on their saddles. Behind them rode a pair of scale-armored soldiers bearing the fireball standard upon their tabards and wielding long, spear-tipped poleaxes, marking them as middle-ranked armsmen. Like bodyguards, these two rode flanking the final rider, the inquisitor. He wore no armor except the bear skull mask that shielded his soul from sorcery, wielded no weapon except an articulated bronze claw on his right hand. Clattering charms covered his hirsute body, some primitive tribal medallions, others religious icons cast in iron, and many of more obscure eldritch nature. His skin was the sickly brown color of rotting bark, and though the mask hid most of his face, by his size and by the short tusks jutting from his lower jaw, he was clearly a herethim. Within the empty sockets of the bear skull forest flame reflected dull red off his eyes. As they closed, Rivereye realized the creature guiding them was no hound. It loped on all fours, but its gait was uneven, and its head was shaggy with plaited blond hair. They were only forty feet away when the air grew strangely heavy and the hound scrambled to a stop, and Rivereye could finally see the strange creature clearly. It was a han woman, her limbs bent in an unnatural position to let her stride like a wolf, her flesh pale like a corpse. She wore a common winter cloak and coat, as well as a bracelet on one wrist, and her fingers dug into the ash like talons. Her neck twisted in ways that would have killed a normal person, letting her look forward while her body was bent over. She peered around with a serene, and almost sleepy expression, but her cheeks sat hollow and gaunt, and her stringy hair hung unevenly, falling out in clumps. The riders reined their horses to a stop around the twisted woman-like creature. It sniffed the air, and its head lolled from side to side with jerks and twitches as it scanned its surroundings. It looked up at Rivereye and he nearly cried out. He had heard the tales in the court, tales of monsters from the realms where evil souls were sent for punishment, beyond the gates of ruin. Whatever old gods watched over the world kept the monsters from actually traveling across the black gulf of death, but they could inhabit the bodies of the living and recently slain. The inquisitors trafficked in death, and one of the older court staff – a jen named Bahurel, who seldom talked – would, in those rare instances he did speak, mutter stories of captives tortured to the brink of death. The inquisitors would tear out a dying man’s soul and offer it to one of those horrors beyond the mortal ring, beckoning it to our world. Rivereye saw this thing’s eyes for just a moment, but he knew what it was: a demon. Despite his fear, Rivereye forced himself to watch, if for nothing else than to make sure the creature did not come for him. The forest growled, and a thick gust of cinders sprayed down the roadway. The Ragesians covered their faces, but the twisted creature did not look away. Undisturbed by the fire, it kept its gaze locked at the rock Rivereye hid behind, then finally looked away when the inquisitor called out to it. The inquisitor and his creature spoke too quietly for Rivereye to hear, and after a moment the woman snarled and stood up on her hind legs. No longer held by the creature’s gaze, Rivereye ducked behind the rock and began to breathe again. It would not be that bad if he just hid and fled after the battle was over, he told himself. He was still hurt from the day before, and would be useless in a fight anyway, and someone would need to live to tell the tale of their deaths. But a pang of guilt reminded him that Rantle and Diogenes had come to rescue him, and now they were in this together. He gulped to focus himself, and knowing he couldn’t risk any more hiding, he slowly raised his head to peer over the rock. The inquisitor, the monstrous woman, and indeed the whole entourage of soldiers were looking straight at him. The inquisitor casually clawed at the air with a gesture Rivereye recognized from the many times he had spied on other inquisitors practicing. It was a spell, or rather a counterspell, intended to strip magic away and pull it into the inquisitor’s grasp. Invisible claws tore across Rivereye’s face, and he ducked and screamed as blood sprayed into the air before his eyes. It was the worst pain he had ever known, but as he fell to the ground he knew something else far worse had happened. He felt a horrifying heat in his lungs as the magic that had protected him from the fire forest was torn from him. The air burned his chest, the stone seared his flesh, and as the roaring inferno battered him with its fury, he cried out and fell helpless to the ground. [CENTER]* * *[/CENTER] Rantle told himself he didn’t have time to mourn or regret what he had done. What had happened with Sorra was owed a great deal of regret, and if he didn’t live through this fight now he wouldn’t have nearly enough time for it all. He was hiding behind a boulder of jagged black rock that had fallen free from the rock spur. Torrent crouched behind another boulder a man’s length away, her axe drawn back to hack off the feet of the first rag who came through the gap between them. She whispered a prayer or a chant for a spell, and looked far calmer than Rantle felt. Ten feet further away, the coward Diogenes stood confidently behind a tree thicker than Rantle’s boulder. The mage, who Rantle was certain could have prevented Sorra’s death if he hadn’t fled, lit a cigarette with a grin by holding it to the tree’s burning bark, then took a drag. The man’s eyes closed for a moment as he savored the tobacco, and then he threw the cigarette away. Rantle couldn’t afford to hate the man now. He just tightened his grip on his sword and peeked around the boulder. Forty feet away, through rough terrain filled with burning brambles and thorned trees, Rantle spied the Ragesians. A woman in white had just stood up from the ash, speaking with a huge herethim wearing an animal skull as a mask, while six mounted Ragesian soldiers – some han, some herethim – looked around warily. Something was wrong with the woman, and Rantle felt the muscles in his neck seize up as he saw her head jerk in an impossible movement, angling upward. She pointed an emaciated hand toward the top of the rock spur, and all the Ragesians looked where she pointed. Rantle turned and looked up as well, barely making out Rivereye in his hiding place. The jispin had ducked and hidden, and looked like he was about to pass out from panic. “They saw him,” Rantle said, just loud enough for Torrent to hear. “The rags know where Rivereye’s hiding.” Torrent said, “He’s safe if he stays down. Don’t ruin the-” Just then Rivereye stood, but he ducked again almost immediately, crying out with pain and falling where the rock obscured him from Rantle. The inquisitor must have done some magic against him, but there was no way Rantle could get to the jispin without revealing himself to the Ragesians. He kicked the boulder in frustration at being helpless again, but just when he was about to step out and rush the Ragesians, Diogenes preempted him. The mage kept his right foot planted and spun out to the left, emerging from the cover of his tree. He shouted and cast one hand out toward the Ragesians, and flames crackled across his palm. Then the fire from all the scattered brush seemed to coalesce into a pair of burning wolves which leapt forward, snarling and roaring toward the inquisitor and his guards. Less than a heartbeat after emerging, Diogenes pivoted back into cover. “Kill them, my hounds!” he shouted. Rantle looked out from cover for a moment, unsure of what to do, but Diogenes held out a warning hand. “Don’t move,” Diogenes called to him. “I’ve got their attention. And look out for illusions; the inquisitor might recast my spell.” “What?” Rantle called back. He was not sure what the mage meant, but already the Ragesians were looking in their direction, and the soldiers struggled to keep their horses calm as two ululating hellhounds charged them. Two Ragesians with polearms swung out of their saddles and interposed themselves between the hounds and their inquisitor commander, while the inquisitor stood high in his saddle, holding his open hand outward at where Diogenes was hiding. From all the stories Rantle had heard, the inquisitor should have been using his power to destroy Diogenes’s conjured beasts, but the man simply ignored them. The hounds leapt in, and most of the horses broke in fear, their riders struggling to disentangle themselves from stirrups before they were carried away. The two guards swung at the hounds, but when their weapons swept through the creatures without wounding them, the men fell back screaming. Glancing over, Rantle spotted Diogenes stepping out from behind the tree again, only somehow there were two of him, one still in cover. The one who was hiding looked like he was concentrating intensely, while the one who had stepped out gestured as if to cast another spell. At the road, the inquisitor, still seemingly unconcerned with the fiery hounds, finally moved. He grasped at the air and shouted something just as the one Diogenes cast a spell. As soon as the inquisitor shouted, the Diogenes out in the open vanished, his body disappearing like a painting being clawed apart, and the other Diogenes who had been hiding pivoted out into the open, aiming with splayed fingers at the soldiers struggling to dismount. The inquisitor spun his head to watch his soldiers begin to struggle to get back into their saddles, looks of unfounded horror on their faces. The inquisitor threw up his hands, a gesture not of magic but of frustration, and Rantle realized Diogenes had done something to infuriate him. Rantle looked back up at where Rivereye had fallen, then to Torrent. “I’ll get the jispin,” he said, “then shout for Kathor to attack.” “Stay put,” Diogenes hissed. “Follow the damned plan!” Rantle wavered, then heard brush and twigs snapping as some of the Ragesians charged in. Diogenes stepped out from cover again, normally a foolish move, but when the mage turned and ran, Rantle realized his path would draw the Ragesians straight between him and Torrent. Rantle drew back his sword and nodded to Torrent. The first of the Ragesians, a well-armored herethim with a poleaxe, rushed through the gap between them, raising his weapon to cut down Diogenes. Instead, Torrent chopped into the warrior’s ankle, cleaving off his foot. The man screamed and fell, and when the second warrior followed through the gap a moment later he was already in mid-swing to strike Torrent, but Rantle spun out from behind his boulder and slashed upward. He was aiming for the man’s wrist, but caught the haft of the poleaxe instead. His blade stopped the warrior’s blow but got lodged deep into the wood, and the Ragesian yanked his weapon away, wrenching Rantle’s sword out of his hand. Before the man could draw back his long polearm for another attack, Rantle stepped inside his reach, snapping a dagger out of his armpit sheath. He tried to stab up into the Ragesian’s throat, but the man deflected the attack with the haft of his weapon, then quickly spun the haft back around, pressing it into the side of Rantle’s neck and torquing sideways. Before he knew what was happening, Rantle was knocked off his feet and shoved down into fiery grass. The Ragesian landed heavily on Rantle’s back, using his poleaxe to pin Rantle’s head and one of his arms to the ground. For an instant Rantle tried to push or roll free, but then the Ragesian stopped struggling. He felt blood splatter across him, and he managed to turn and look up to see Torrent pulling her axe out of the warrior’s head with a wet suction. The sound of the inquisitor’s voice pulled Rantle’s attention to the road, where the skull-masked mage was rallying his four remaining warriors. Diogenes’s hellhounds had vanished somewhere. The eerie woman was bending over onto all fours, and when her milky-eyed gaze met Rantle’s, she snarled like a beast. The inquisitor spun to look in their direction and began to reach out with his clawed hand. “Move!” Torrent shouted. She grabbed Rantle by his armpit to try to pull him back behind cover. The air rushed like wind, and Torrent cried out. Rantle shoved the dead Ragesian off his back, then scrambled through the burning brush back to the cover of his boulder. Torrent also leapt away, and when they were both out of sight, Rantle saw Torrent holding her belly. Blood was gushing out in four parallel lines as if she had been slashed, but her clothes were untouched. “Can you move?” Rantle asked. The Ragesian who was missing his foot was still howling in pain. Rantle reached over and plunged his dagger into the man’s neck, and the man stopped moving. “Not well,” Torrent said. “Huh. I think this might be mortal.” Rantle reached out with his left hand to grab Torrent and help her move, but the air rushed like it had just before. He pulled his arm back into cover but too slowly, and wide gashes tore open the back of his hand and his arm. He bit his lip and growled in pain, then realized he could hear the other Ragesians pressing through the forest toward him. At that instant the first of the remaining Ragesians soldiers appeared in the corner of Rantle’s eye. Expecting an attack, Rantle ducked and stabbed upward at the soldier’s belly, but his knife went through the man completely, and his momentum carried him through the warrior’s body, which tore apart like he was jumping through a sheet of paper. More soldiers swarmed him, and Rantle slashed furiously to try to keep them at bay, but none of his blows met any resistance when he hit, and when the Ragesians attacked back, their blades were harmless. Then he heard Torrent shout a warning to Diogenes, and he realized he’d been tricked by the inquisitor’s magic. Looking back, he saw that the actual soldiers had gotten off their horses, cut through the woods to their side, and had flanked them. Diogenes had leapt out from behind his cover and was now running back in Rantle’s direction, away from the soldiers and [I]toward[/I] the inquisitor. Torrent had staggered to her feet, and she held up her shield as best she could to block any more magic from the inquisitor. As Rantle came out of cover, however, rescue seemed at hand, for the inquisitor was looking away at Kathor, who was riding hard out of the woods, his massive sword was drawn back for a blow that would cut a man in half. The inquisitor swept his claw at Kathor, and Kathor grunted with pain as streaks of blood sprayed out of his armor along his right arm, but he kept riding. Then, just as he was about to strike, the pale monstrous woman sprung into the air at him. Kathor’s blade struck her full in her chest, but the thing did not blink at the impact. It dug one clawed hand into Kathor’s horse’s neck, the other into Kathor’s shoulder, and then tore Kathor from his saddle. Diogenes did some sort of magic, but the inquisitor clenched his fist as if catching it, and then shoved both hands at Diogenes, knocking him to the ground from thirty feet away. “Kill that son of a-” Diogenes was yelling, when a Ragesian caught up to him from behind and planted an axe in his wooden arm, turning the mage’s shouts to panicked shrieks. The inquisitor raised his hand to aim some magic to finish off Diogenes, but Kathor’s horse, still intent on its original target, reared and kicked at the Ragesian. The inquisitor wheeled his horse so that it would take the blow instead, and two hooves slammed into the confused mount’s head. Blood burst from its nose and its crushed eye, and then the inquisitor’s horse reeled and threw its rider, who fell into the ash. Rantle pushed himself into a sprint, and he charged at the inquisitor, knowing he had to kill the rag before he got back up. To his left, four soldiers had surrounded Torrent and Diogenes. To his right, Kathor grappled the unnatural pale creature on the ground, punching it with gauntleted fists. And behind him, just as Rantle was about to lunge at the inquisitor with nothing more than a dagger, he heard another horse charging in, and he realized Crystin and her wretched old father were riding to join the battle. The inquisitor’s skeletal gaze turned to face them, and Rantle thought he might have a chance. But then Haddin coughed out the words to a spell of some sort, and the inquisitor caught it in his clawed hand. Rantle swung his knife up at the inquisitor’s belly, but the huge herethim deflected the attack with his metal claw. Rantle struggled to make another stab, but the inquisitor clamped his other hand onto Rantle’s shoulder and punched him in the face with the palm of his claw. The magic the inquisitor had caught from Haddin seared his skin and forced its way into him. Rantle felt like fish hooks digging through the inside of his skin, and the strings were pulling inward, coiling into knots, keeping him from moving. The Ragesian inquisitor’s magic held his body like a puppeteer preparing for a show. Icy breath blew across Rantle’s ear as the inquisitor spoke. “Kill those you came with.” The strings pulled, the knots shifted, and Rantle found himself turning to Diogenes. [/QUOTE]
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