Chapter 10 - Elven Steel and Lizard Scales

Though the dozens of lizardmen were still beating and hissing in a fearsome rhythm, a hulking member of their band parted the crowd before himself, shoving his companions to the side as though they were skinks.

“This one seeks a name for himself!” laughed Rayn.

“He wants single combat,” said Alfreth. “I shall battle him. I shall win the glory for our party. By the All-Father, I’ll answer your challenge, knave.”

Let him get his name thought Valgros. Then you can have more of your stupid glory. Give him the bard. Or the alchemist. Or the girl. Haha, I’d pay to see that one.

“Stand back, friends and companions. Lord Alfreth Silversteel of the Blueskye Mountain shall give this scaly scoundrel his battle.” Alfreth stepped forward to meet his foe. “Elven steel shall smite you, son of the Chain-Bringer.”

A lord? Blueskye Mountain? thought Edwin. Of course he’s a lord. That makes sense. But, I’ve never heard of him. He must be one of those newer nobles. But where the Hell is the Blueskye Mountain?

The greater lizardman stood up straight, looking down upon the knight before him. He was at least two heads taller than Alfreth. His scales were a solid, dark green. In his right hand, he carried a rusty maul like a small warhammer.

“I see you’ve armed yourself with a trophy from your past victories.”

“Hasssh!” hissed the lizardman.

“A scaly scoundrel indeed. When shown the slightest bit of kindness, all you do is hiss upon it. Still, the All-Father smiles upon me for offering it to you before I kill you. Make no doubt, I am a seasoned w—”

The lizardman swung at Alfreth’s head as though swatting at a fly. Emiko gasped. “Ha!” laughed Valgros. The party stared wide-eyed as their champion fell to the ground with the crash of metal. The red dryad looked at Ulrich. The dwarf shook his head. Leofric stepped forward, already whispering a prayer. Rayn grabbed his shoulder, holding him back.

I was wrong thought Valgros. You win this one, bard.

The lizardman turned back to his companions with his arms overhead. “Hraaagh!” he roared as his fellows hissed with delight. The sound made Rayn’s stomach churn. I’ve always hated these things. Another good man lost to these hissing bastards. There’s no way we can heal a blow like that. Once again, should’ve brought a real throne-beggar.

The pile of steel lying on the ground that Alfreth had become began to rise. He threw off his crushed helmet, revealing the blood running down his face. He stood tall, raised his poleaxe, and swung down at the greater lizardman.

The aeon turned and caught the haft on his arm. The fierce blow still knocked the creature down.

Alfreth glared down at him. “What was your name, knave, that I might tell my bard to sing of your blow upon me?”

“Haaash!” The aeon leapt up, only to be met with another blow from Alfreth’s axe. The blade bit deep into the monster’s skull, sending him back to the ground in a spray of green blood. The greater lizardman lay still on the ground. Green whisps rose from his body, a clear sign of the aeon’s death. As if the green pool around him wasn’t enough.

“Shame. I’ll have him make one up then,” said Alfreth.

Well done, knight thought Valgros. You had me going there.

What in Eoroth? thought Rayn, his jaw hanging open. He’s no man. No man could take a blow like that. Not even if he’d warded himself in prayer. He turned to Leofric and speaking in a hushed tone asked, “did you ward him? Did he ward himself? What just happened?”

“That’s no elven noble,” said Leofric. “I thought Blueskye Mountain was a strange home.”

“What the Hell is he then?” asked Rayn, still trying to whisper.

“Go ahead then, my lady. Their battle’s over now,” said Ulrich with a nod to the dryad. She raised her hands, put them together, and lowered her head in a semblance of prayer. Specks of green light floated around the knight.

“Thank you, my lady,” said Alfreth. “I am most grateful. The knave had given me quite the headache. It was a fair blow, in truth.”

“Now, the real fight begins,” said Roderick. “Ready yourselves! They’ve no more champions. We fight the lot of them now.”

“By the All-Father!” cried Leofric. “Strike with great vengeance! Give them their glory by the steel of Westhalion!”

Alfreth dropped back in line. Two small lizardmen came up and grabbed their companion by his arms, dragging him back behind the crowd of hissing aeons.

Emiko could barely think. The hissing grew louder than ever. Her arms shook. She drew a deep breath, trying to steel herself, but a thought pried into mind: how am I supposed to strike them? They will kill me if I get that close. She drew in another deep breath. You can do this Emiko. Remember your kata. Focus your ki into your fists. Strike quickly. Flow like the tide. Strike like the bolts of heaven. You are Emiko Tanaka. You are the daughter of a rice farmer. Show them what you have in hand.

The monsters rushed upon the party from their front, right, and left. A flurry of cruel carnage erupted. Roderick cut through the lizardmen like butter, cutting down three at a time. They couldn’t come near him. He slew another coming for Leofric to his right, then two more coming for him once again. The ground at his feet became a marsh of green blood. Even the lizardmen’s scaly hides were like paper before his newfound might.

Valgros held the end of the line. Three approached him, one trying to flank him to his left, but his sword was quick; he slashed at the beast, beating it back as it parried his blows with its club. The other two moved in, thinking him off guard. He stabbed the rightmost one through the head and pointed at the middle one with his palm. Flames burst from his hand. The creature fell back on the ground, dying, hissing, then stepped on and crushed by the scaly, advancing aeons.

Leofric held the right side of the line, keeping the aeons at bay with his spear while Rayn dashed out from behind him, making quick jabs with his arming sword. A bold lizardman snapped Leofric’s spear with his jaws, paying for it with life as Rayn split the lizardman’s head, green blood gushing forth from it.

Leofric dropped his broken spear and drew his knight sword. The cold steel gleamed beneath the pale forest sun. The lizardmen could not stand against the Westhalion noble. Born and reared for battle, the knight sword was the keen tool of his trade; the warrior of God was open.

He felt for a moment as though he were hacking weeds. Chopping wood, if I’m being generous. They smashed their clubs against his plates, but the wooden weapons did nothing to the elven-forged steel. A hammer came down at his head. Parry. Counter. Kill. For the first time in years, Leofric felt fully alive once again.

Rayn found himself caught up in the fray, losing the protection of his armoured battle-friend. A javelin thrust its way toward his chest, knocking him back. His armour had stopped the piercing blow, but his momentum was lost. A stone hammer came for his head. A flash of blue. The hammer bounced back. Shield! realized Rayn. The alchemist had protected him. He took the chance to fall back behind Leofric who slew the aggressor in a single blow.

“Emiko! Behind us!” yelled Errol in his high, soft voice, almost singing it as he strummed away at his guitar.

Emiko turned. Four lizardmen rushed from the woods. Four red bolts pounded two of them, killing them. Good shot, Edwin she thought. She ran, jumped, and flew forward. Her flying kick landed. Square in a lizardman’s chest. The creature fell back and hit the ground with a hiss.

The last one swung at her with its club. She bobbed and weaved. Palm strike. She threw an uppercut with her palm. The creature’s chin stopped her blow. It stared at her with the cold eyes of a predator. A chill froze her in place. It didn’t hurt him she thought. She saw the one she’d kicked getting up. He is still alive! I cannot do this! How can I fight them?

She emptied her mind. It was useless to her. Nothing but fear and doubt. She remembered her kata. Strike. Strike. Trip. Advance. She moved through the motions she had practised her whole life, throwing kicks and punches without thought, repeating the patterns she had practised for hours and hours over years and years.

Her knuckles bled from bashing against the lizardmen’s scales. She still couldn’t protect her fists with her ki. She’d never mastered the technique, but she could perform the kata. She could fight, and fighting would keep her alive. She didn’t have to think. All she had to do was breath and move, losing herself in a flow state of martial prowess.

The least lizardmen had come to Alfreth. They had seen him fight, and though they weren’t intelligent, not even knowing fear, they had some survival instinct. They saw him as the strongest. He would have to die last. This gave him the freedom to turn his attention to aiding Valgros. With nothing more than a long sword, his spells expended, the Al-jihen was becoming overwhelmed by the onslaught of lizardmen.

Alfreth’s swift poleaxe brought down one, then two attackers, giving the devil-man room to breathe. With that room, Valgros again released the aggression in his heart. He pressed forward, hacking violently. For all his blows, he could only slay one lizardman, but he kept them on the defensive. Lizards do not know fear? he thought. I will teach them.

As the bodies piled around the party, lizardmen began to flee, seeing victory was futile. With the hisses and cries of battle gone, Errol’s fierce strumming dominated the scene.

“We did it!” yelled Rayn over the guitar, chest heaving with hot, exhausted breaths. Sweat ran down his face. “We did it.”

Emiko looked down at her bloody fists. She blinked back tears and held in a sob. The pain was starting to set in, starting to register with her as though she were returning from a different reality, but it was her fear that really shook her, really gripped her heart, really tried to drag her to her knees and break her. Fear of what she could do. Fear of what she couldn’t. Fear of what she could become if she weren’t careful.

Emiko felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked down. Pink. She turned around and saw the dryad standing behind her. Emiko stared up into the aeon’s eyes: they must be as sad as mine she thought. The aeon wrapped her arms around Emiko. She embraced her, and Emiko hugged her back. They stood still and quiet in the forest, green lights floating around them.

“Who are you?” asked Emiko.

“I am called the Queen of Leaves. Or, I was. I do not know what I am called now. I have little use for names. I am but a healer. By Ulrich’s guidance, I have found my way, been redeemed by the Holy Light. So shall you be, my dear.”

The pain in Emiko’s hands disappeared. Her heart slowed, no longer pounding to escape her chest.

“I have taken some of your pain. The rest has been taken by the Hero.”

“The Hero?” asked Emiko.

“The Son-of-All.”

“I owe Him then.”

“So do we all.”

“Set the bodies in rows,” said Ulrich. “We have created a massacre today. The forest will suffer if I do not pacify its spirits. They will come back with a greater fury and a greater vengeance.”

Emiko and the men set about following Ulrich’s orders.

“There’s something powerful about the lass,” said Roderick to Ulrich off to the side.

“Aye. The fraulein has something awakening in her. It may be a boon to us, or it may destroy us.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Roderick. “We need to find her a master. I cannot train such powers.”

“You can teach her to pray. That should keep them under control for a time. She’s going on a journey the rest of us can only imagine.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I’ve seen it before. Only once though.”

“Your wisdom is great, Ulrich. I couldn’t dream of doing this without you. I need to go speak to Alfreth now.”

“I wonder how soon the others will figure out what he is.”

“Indeed. We need to hurry and press forward. This battle has set us back. The day is ageing.”

“I’ll be done soon.”

“Thank you, Ulrich.” Roderick walked over to Alfreth. The elf-man dragged two lizardmen by their necks and laid them in a row.

“Excellent job, good sir,” said Roderick.

“Thank you, Brother. I should say the same to you.”

“No. I did very little. The belt you gave me has been quite handy. Are you alright?”

“I am. The Queen’s healing has done wonders for me.”

“What of your helm?”

“The alchemist offered to mend it. I was surprised he could do such a thing. Such a handy fellow to have along.”

“Indeed. I’m glad you’re okay, Alfreth. You’re an important member of this party. Here.” Roderick pulled a rag and a waterskin out of the bottomless pouch on his belt. “Use these to clean the blood from your face. Can’t have such a noble knight looking so badly beaten now can we?”

“Thank you, Brother! How kind of you!”

“Think nothing of it. Just take care of yourself. I meant what I said. We don’t want you maimed, friend.” Roderick put his hand on Alfreth’s pauldron and gave him a warm smile.

The monk went over to Valgros who was busy dragging another lizardman into place.

“Well done, Valgros. We were right to trust you.”

The Al-jihen stared at the monk for a moment. You don’t know how wrong you are he thought. I’m only playing along until the time comes that I can steal my freedom from you, elf. “I’m only fighting for my freedom. You’re a madman to bring a slave against perils.”

“You’re not my slave, Valgros.” Roderick stared back his deep-blue eyes becoming stern, almost fierce. “You’re my friend. Even if you betray me and cut me down, you’ll still be my friend.”

“Such kindness will get you killed in the marches.”

“Then the All-Father has chosen me to die here.”

“I might not like you, monk, but I admire your sincerity. Either you’re a well-trained actor, and I’m a fool to trust you, or you’re a real man who would die a real death. A death committed to something.”

“And what are you?”

“Me? I’m the man who would go on living.”

“Is it really a life if it’s committed to nothing?”

“I’ll ask your All-Father before He sends me to Hell.”

“Come, Valgros. That’s a coward’s answer. You’re better than that.”

“Whatever.” I’m not better than that he thought. You don’t know what I’m better than. You’ve only known me for a few hours. You don’t know me at all.

“Just keep up the good work. We’ll find your father’s sword and your book. I mean it. I’ll help you search until I die.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, monk. Your god doesn’t like that.”

“Then may He help me keep it. My word is my word, Valgros. We fight together. I’ll not forsake you, and neither will He.”

Valgros turned away and went to grab another lizardman. “Let’s just get this work done,” he said over his shoulder. You stupid monk. You’re making it hard to hate you. Perhaps this is a test of Balfometh. Perhaps this is the way to becoming a true demon: murder a man who has done only good to you and for you. “You wish to make me a ‘king,’ but what if I wish to become a devil?”

“I cannot stop you, Valgros. I can only die for you.”

Damn you thought the devil-man. You’re making me choose between two roads, two roads that run in very different directions, as far opposed as the east and the west. Forget it. Just do what you have to, Valgros. Find your father’s sword. Go from there.

Roderick went over to Rayn and Leofric who were also dragging bodies into line.

“How are you two?”

“A little older than I remember, Brother,” said Leofric with a sigh.

“No kidding!” said Rayn. “I feel like I got my ass handed to me. I wasn’t even struck once.”

“Rayn! Don’t speak that way in front of a monk.”

“What? He’s a freelancer. I’m sure he’s heard worse. A mean tongue is part of the trade. Tell him, Rod.”

“Well, I have heard worse.”

“You’re still a man of the cloth. You deserve respect. Rayn has no piety. No reverence.”

“I have reverence! I told you, me and Da have an understanding.”

“An understanding, eh?” chuckled Roderick. “Would this be one where you promise to repent on your deathbed?”

“Yeah, see! Rod gets it!”

“I’ll pray for you then,” said Roderick, only half-joking.

“Even better! Surely your prayers mean more than mine.”

“You’re a mighty warrior, Brother,” said Leofric. “What’s brought you this way?”

“Many things,” said Roderick. “The call of God. My abbot’s orders to master the sword. My bishop’s orders to bring justice and order to the marches. Rolandus’s guiding hand, itself guided by the Hero. Many things are at work when a man is sent down the path he’s on.”

“Of course. You are consecrated to Rolandus,” said Leofric.

“Indeed. I am bound to the Order of the Ardent Crown.”

“What the… heck is that?” asked Rayn.

“We are monks consecrated to Rolandus, the King-Throne. We seek to keep and instil justice. Are you consecrated, Leofric?”

“That’s Lord Leofric, Br. Rod!” said Rayn.

“Shut up, Rayn,” said Leofric with less than half a laugh. He understood the jab was at him, and not Roderick.

“Forgive me, milord!” said Rayn in a pathetic voice. “Don’t flog me! Please, don’t flog me! I’m but a humble cheese-maker!”

Leofric wrapped his arm around Rayn’s neck and ran his knuckles across the elf-man’s head. “I’ll teach you to sass me! Cheese-maker, eh?! Humble, eh?! Where’s your cow, cheese-maker? I’ll teach you to mock your betters!”

“Ah! Ah!” said Rayn. “Your armour! It’s pinching. It’s pinching. Uncle. Uncle!”

Leofric let go of Rayn. “Forgive me, Brother. Sometimes the cheese-maker has to be taught a lesson. I am consecrated. To Titus.”

Rayn stood off to the side, straightening his hair back out. That bastard! I didn’t think about his armour! thought Rayn.

“The Hero-Throne. Quite the yoke,” said Roderick.

“I do not bear it well.”

“Your humility will help you.”

“They do say it’s the only way to escape the snares of Hell.”

“Indeed.”

“Not that this chat isn’t nice and all, but this isn’t Mass, boys. We’ve got work to do.”

“Indeed.”

“Right once more, Rayn. How many times is that now?”

“I dunno, but it’s not enough. I’m starting to doubt coming out here.”

“Don’t, Rayn,” said Roderick with a warm smile. “You’re on the right path. I believe so, at least. Just start praying for yourself. It’ll help. Or you can choose the hard way, and—”

“Repent when I die. Right. You call it harder, but I call it simpler.”

Roderick laughed, rubbing the back of his neck through his hood. “What’ll we do with you, you spoony bard.”

“You’ll watch me. I’m destined to turn the heads of gods,” said Rayn with a snap and a grin that’d make men scowl and women blush.

“God love you, Rayn. May Titus help you, Leofric.”

“And Rolandus help you, Roderick.”

“Yeah, thanks, Roderick. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Move out of the way,” said Ulrich. “I’m going to begin the pacifying.”