The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (17 page)

The dwarf then followed with a head butt to the man’s stomach, knocking him back and forcing the air from his lungs. He leapt at the man, reversed his hammer, and sunk the spike deep into his chest.

The one-eyed man’s mouth opened as pain hit him, and he fell backward off the spike and onto the ground. Thorne advanced to finish him but was struck senseless as a small, greasy-haired man hit him on the head as he stepped out of a side alley.

The alley was wide enough for the two to attack together, forcing Vaun to backpedal to avoid being struck down. The redhead swung high toward Vaun’s right while the other cut low to his left.

Lunging forward toward the lower attack, he blocked it one-handed and carried it over his head to his right. Grasping his sword hilt with both hands, he smashed both his own and his attacker’s weapons into the higher swing. The contact jarred all the way up the youth’s arms, but instead of disorienting him or disrupting his movements like it did during his last fight, it seemed to blend with that strange tingling in his arm.

As his sword scraped along his opponents’ blades, he could almost tell that both weapons needed care. The redhead’s sword even seemed neglected, as if its owner barely kept it from rusting away.

Disgusted, Vaun cut quickly back to his left and slashed the scar-faced man across the chest. As he fell, the youth returned the slash back to his right, still two-handed. He was swift enough to beat the other man’s return block and cut his throat. Strangely, it seemed he could feel the flesh part beneath his blade, but he wasn’t sure if it was real or merely his imagination. The man gurgled and fell back, dead before he hit the ground. When his opponent’s weapon clanged onto the ground, Vaun felt something very close to satisfaction at saving it from further neglect.

The third attacker, a black-haired man with an ugly grimace of fury on his narrow face emphasized by a new purple bruise, had risen and closed to attack. He chopped down at Vaun’s head with his scimitar, his teeth bared in hatred, his orders not to kill the young one before questioning forgotten.

Still holding his sword firmly with both hands, even though they almost vibrated with the tingling inside, Vaun swung his sword up from where he had finished off the second attacker and horizontally deflected the third man’s strike. As he did, a strange sensation like a kind of rhythm came out of the tingling feeling and invaded his actions. It almost made him lose control, but it seemed to sense his hesitation and guided him on its own.

His wrists snapped downward, guiding his opponent’s blade down his own and off the point. It hit the ground with a metallic clang that resounded on the walls around the combatants. Vaun then rotated sideways and circled his sword over his head. He dropped his body down with his weapon as it slashed across the left side of the man’s chest to the right side of his waist. He felt nothing from the blade’s contact with the other’s weapon or body, so he assured himself his imagination had been playing tricks on him.

The man’s knees buckled, and he fell face down in his own blood, his body twitching as he died. Vaun turned to see how Thorne fared, only to see him knocked down by the greasy-haired man.

Nearly screaming in rage, Vaun launched himself at the small man, who barely had time to turn and see the enraged youth before the Vaulka entered his chest. The man’s mouth opened and blood poured forth, his body going limp and his shortsword hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Vaun
felt
the blade enter the man’s chest and felt it again as it ground against his ribcage when he slid off. The strength of the feeling was undeniable; he knew it had been real. It truly felt as if it was his arm, not his sword, that had stabbed the man, and it sickened him so much he nearly passed out. Vaun fell to his knees gasping, trying to fight off the darkness that threatened to overtake him. That strange noise echoed more loudly in the back of his head, and the tingling in his arms intensified.

His hands felt wet and sticky, but when he looked at them, they were clean. A sudden urge to care for his sword emerged, so he began hurriedly cleaning and inspecting it for nicks. Satisfied the woven steel had proven strong enough to withstand battle, he sheathed the weapon and reached to awaken Thorne, whom he’d forgotten. Strangely, the task of cleaning his weapon released his initial nausea and made his hands feel clean.

Then a second wave of dizziness swept over him, making the walls swim and the ground lurch. He felt like waves of steel blades hit the inside of his head, and he swallowed down the urge to vomit. He wanted to be stronger than that, and be able to cope with killing when it had been necessary. That strange noise in his head resolved into a curious ringing, vaguely resembling music. It bounced in time to the rhythm that still pounded behind his thoughts. The tingling feeling persisted, traveling up and down his sword arm like a trail of ants. His right arm felt enclosed in a tight space that seemed secure but not reassuring. He didn’t understand it, and he was scared.

Vaun could hardly believe what he’d just done and wished it could have been avoided. He knew that was impossible, for if he hadn’t acted, he’d be dead, but that didn’t stop him from wishing otherwise. He shuddered at the almost instinctual rage he’d felt toward the man who’d hit Thorne, and chill bumps rose on his arms as he remembered the feel of his sword slicing into his attacker’s flesh. He still couldn’t bring himself to admit that it had been real, but he knew it had been. That last sensation had felt too real, too genuine, for it to have been his imagination, and the thought of it horrified him.

He had always made a point to remember the details of his fights, both real and play. But this time he couldn’t picture clearly what he’d done. Everything seemed to be a jumble of physical sensations, with no coherent thought to them at all. Except one.

It had all been too easy.

*
*
*

Drath and Rush had risen to search for their two missing companions when Vaun and Thorne entered the tavern. The two spotted the others and made their way to the table, both sitting down heavily and all but dropping what they carried. They’d been too tired to take the bags to the inn. Drath glanced from one to the other with concern but held his tongue while the serving girl brought the two late arrivals their drinks and food, Vaun having water now instead of ale. Finally Drath could suppress his curiosity no longer. “What happened to you two? We were about to come looking for you.”

Thorne frowned sourly. “Nice to know you care about us so much.” They were over two hours late, and the dwarf seemed displeased that they had waited so long before beginning their search. “We ran into a spot of trouble.”

“I can see that.” Drath pointed to the dried blood on the dwarf’s temple. “What kind of trouble?”

“Bad trouble.” Thorne barely stopped eating his stew to answer Drath’s query.

Drath sighed. “Thorne…”

“Stones, Drath. The lad and I are both very tired, and my head feels like it was kicked by a mountain goat. I’ll answer your stone-blasted questions after this ale dulls the pain.” So saying, he drank off the half full tankard and poured himself more from the pitcher in front of him.

The tall man waited a few minutes before trying again. “Did you get in a fight?”

It was Thorne’s turn to sigh. “That’s obvious, ’tisn’t it?”

Drath clamped his mouth shut on a scathing rebuttal when Vaun, who’d been quietly eating since they sat down, dropped a black handkerchief in the middle of the table. Doing so, the youth turned back to his meal, ignoring the stares of his four companions seated across from him.

Drath had difficulty breathing. “Where…?”

“We were followed.” Vaun’s tone was dull. “By men from this tavern. They stayed with us all day and even joined us in the bathhouse. On our way back here, we decided to find out what they wanted. So we walked through the alleys until they stopped us. The rest can explain itself.” He had stopped eating while he talked, then went back to spooning the stew into his mouth.

“Followed?” Drath refused to acknowledge the black handkerchief, not wanting to think about all it implied.

“Aye, followed,” Thorne growled. “Did the youth stutter?”

Drath decided not to respond to Thorne’s hostility this time. Merdel, checking to make sure no one else in the tavern had seen it, picked up the handkerchief and studied it. He mumbled under his breath and passed his hand over it twice before putting it into a pouch at his belt. “Well, at least now we know Elak’s on to us. I suspect he knows our destination as well.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Thorne belched, now through with his meal. “I think those men were not goin’ to kill us.”

Vaun coughed and choked when the dwarf said that, but quickly recovered and finished eating.

Thorne glanced sideways at his companion. “At least not at first. The leader asked me what we’re doin’ here and where we’re goin’. That may be why that greasy little snot didn’t cut my head off when he had the chance. He wanted to question me first. Anyway, he may know we’re here, but it doesn’t seem like he knows where we’re going. Were any of you followed?”

Drath and Merdel looked at each other, then Drath replied, “Not that I noticed, no.”

Thorne questioned the elves. “What about you two?”

They, too, eyed each other. After debating some time in low whispers, Rush turned to Drath. “No, not by anyone who’d mean us harm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Drath squinted suspiciously, knowing the elves’ penchant for disregarding danger.

Dart’s small hands opened in appeal. “We were followed, but only by small children. They seemed intrigued by us, so we entertained them a little while.” He smiled, as if that explained everything.

“You what?” Drath shook his head. “No, don’t tell me. I probably don’t want to know.”

Merdel frowned. “Well, I certainly hope Thorne is right and they saw all of Elak’s men. How many did you fight?”

“Five all together.”

“Five?” The wizard seemed surprised. He knew Elak’s soldiers would never have let the two escape alive. “Where are they now?”

“Rotting in the back of a warehouse.”

“You two killed five men by yourselves?” Drath sounded astonished. “How?”

Thorne shrugged. “The usual way. And I only killed one. Vaun got the other four.”

The four men across from them again regarded their grey clad companion with wide eyes, and Drath’s jaw dropped for the second time. “How…?”

Vaun shrugged. “It wasn’t really all that hard. None of them were very good, and the last one didn’t see me coming.” He seemed to shudder inwardly, closing his eyes as if he was trying to blot out the images flashing through his head.

Drath reached out and gripped his friend’s wrist, stopping him from putting his empty spoon in his mouth. Vaun had been mechanically scraping his empty bowl and eating nothing for the past several minutes now. “What’s bothering you, Vaun Tarsus?”

Vaun shook at something only he could see and spoke with his eyes still closed. “It was just too easy. They were living men, and I killed all four of them with little effort. When I think about it, it seems like they were moving at half speed and I was moving at three times that. It was just too easy.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and he shivered at repeating what he’d done.

Merdel scratched his chin. “What do you mean by easy?” The mage leaned toward the youth with his fingertips on the table. He stared directly at, and almost into, Vaun, but the young man’s eyes were still tightly shut and his chin down. “Tell me what you did.” The wizard’s voice was calm.

Vaun trembled more when the mage said that, but he still complied with the request. “That’s just it. I’m not sure what I did. When I think about it, all I see are a series of disconnected pictures. I see the men moving, but their movements are slow. They almost drag through the air, like it was thick. But when
I
move, it’s like there’s no air at all. There is nothing in my way but their swords, but they’re moving so slowly they might as well not even be there.”

He now looked back up at his companions, his pale eyes finally open. “It shouldn’t be that easy to kill people. I’m not saying I wish they’d killed me. But I wish it seemed harder than killing unarmed babies. The worst part was the feelings. It seemed…almost like I could feel their movements before they did them. I could feel their sword blades as if I touched them, and one of them I know took poor care of his sword. But I don’t know how I knew that. I just did.” It appeared he had more to say, but he clamped his lips tight on further explanation.

Silence dominated the table for several minutes after Vaun finished. Finally breaking the quiet, Drath cleared his throat. “So much for us not causing any trouble in Landsby.”

“It wasn’t our fault.” Tears welled up in Vaun’s eyes, but he regained control of himself before continuing.
“They
followed us.
They
attacked us. Not the other way around. They drew first. We only defended ourselves.” He only briefly met the gazes of his companions before lowering his head again.

Drath tried to smile comfortingly. “I know that, Vaun. It’s just that now we’re going to have to explain the five bodies when they’re found, because I’m sure no one will be allowed to leave until someone explains them. And it would be much easier if I went ahead and talked to the Baron about it so he doesn’t order the gates locked.

“We still need two more horses, and the elves said they needed more time to buy provisions. Do you still have some things to get, Thorne? Good. While I’m out tomorrow I’ll seek an audience with the Baron and explain this to him as best I can. But don’t worry, Merdel, I won’t tell him everything. I’ll tell him only enough to satisfy him. I’ll make sure he understands our situation, and maybe he’ll overlook the deaths. After all, he won’t grieve the loss of men he’d rather have dead in the first place.”

Vaun nodded, accepting the tall man’s explanation and reassurance. He sat unmoving the rest of the night and argued with Drath during their unusually brief talk.

*
*
*