The Destroyer (3 page)

The dagger spun sideways as it left my hand in a throw, spinning drops of crimson blood lazily on its fifty-yard journey, before embedding itself into the soldier's neck on the far left. The man choked out a panicked gurgle from the impact of the dagger, and reached up with his left hand toward the hilt coming out of his jugular. I guessed that it would take him a minute to die, but in the meantime he might not be able to aim his crossbow at Paug and his friends.

My left hand returned to the waist of the commander. I took a fistful of belt, armor, and cloth, while the blood from his stomach wound began to gush over my clenched fingers. I lifted with both of my arms and pulled the commander's body off the ground. He somehow seemed lighter than a feather, but would serve my purpose.

I charged the other men with their leader’s body shielding me.

One arbalist to the right took a shot when his commander began to scream in wet horror. The bolt went wide over my head. As I took three more steps, a second weapon twanged, sinking a quarrel into the back of the commander and choking off his cry.

Four more steps and I had made it to the left of the semicircle. A few more bolts whispered past my head as the soldiers tried to kill me without injuring their commander. They should not have bothered trying to spare him. He would die when I finished with them.

The left most soldier tried to draw his sword. His palm had hardly brushed the hilt when I pushed my pointer and middle fingers together and drove them through his eyeball and into his brain. He had a dagger, but to draw and throw the weapon I would have to spin around the body of their commander, temporarily exposing myself to potential crossbow quarrels. These men seemed inept, so I decided to gamble and drew the long dagger out of the dying man's belt before tossing it.

The dagger left my hand at a poor angle, but it somehow corrected itself in midflight like a sparrow and took the final arbalist in the shoulder. The blade sunk into his armor as if it were made of cloth. My target had not expected the toss or the pain in his crossbow-bearing arm. Surprise caused him to pull the trigger and launch the bolt accidentally toward my new companions. I couldn't spare a glance in their direction, but I didn't hear a scream, so I guessed the quarry had not found a living target.

Four of them were left, not including the dying commander I clutched with my right hand, and the one who wouldn't be using his shoulder anymore. The soldier a few steps from me began fishing for his sword, so I pushed the commander's body toward him with as much strength as my weak body allowed. He flew like a small stone, and both of them tumbled backward. The receiving soldier's left foot caught a tree root and he landed with a wet sounding crunch.

The man who had accepted the commander's heavy crossbow before the battle started frantically tried to drop one of his weapons and fire at me with the other. I sprung toward him, light on my feet because I had tossed my body shield, and angled a slashing kick downward against his leg. My left shin connected above his right kneecap where the muscles formed a teardrop shape. I heard a satisfying snap and tear as the leg separated from the tendons and muscles that held the joint together. The force of my kick also carried through to his left leg, and he flipped over my cutting shin kick and dropped head first onto the wet jungle floor.

The last two soldiers stood twenty yards from me with their trembling swords drawn. Without speaking, they each fell back a few steps toward the edge of the jungle and away from Paug and his friends. I guessed from their facial expressions and the glances they made over their shoulders that they considered fleeing into the jungle.

The man whose leg I had broken lay screaming at my feet, so I bent down and pulled the longer sword from his sheath. He reached his hands after mine to stop me, but I smacked his weak arms aside before I freed the blade. The weapon fit well in my hand, but was a bit light, like a toy. Suddenly a brief memory shattered my concentration.

I stood upon a hill overlooking a grand valley. Thousands of soldiers, clothed in animal-shaped armor, mounting red banners, stood at attention. I walked down the slope and into their ranks. Some of the men and women had their helmet visors lifted; their faces were sunken, angry, and eager for violence. I yelled a command and the masses screamed with feral intensity. The flags had giant skulls on them and they twisted and snapped in the sharp, cutting wind.

I shook my head when my memory was interrupted by another screech. I flicked my wrist downward and let the blade of the sword bite into his brain through his skull. Then I tensed my wrist a fraction of a second later to bring the blade back up and silence the man's screams. I stepped over his body and walked toward the last standing men.

The remaining soldiers looked like cornered rats, so I took my time and closed the distance between us with a slow stroll. My feet were still bare and crushed the rocks, moss, leaves, and damp earth beneath them, just as I was about to pulverize the life from the man before me. This soldier seemed to be the youngest of the bunch, and I inhaled the sickly scent of fear on him and heard his heart beat faster than Paug's. The man hadn’t expected this outcome, but we both knew at this moment that I was going to destroy him. Our eyes made contact, and I read his feint before he tried to make a small cut, pull back, and thrust into me.

My blade swung out to meet his like he expected. He pulled back at the last second and my sword went wide, leaving me open. He dove forward with a thrust aimed at my midsection, but the flat side of the blade glided against the palm of my hand and I pushed the sword wide. His eyes opened in shock as he realized I had read his feint. My relaxed blade swung back with precision and I took the top half of his head off with a horizontal cut. His eyes darted around the jungle frantically while his body toppled. His brain hadn’t realized it was missing its top half and may have tried to send interrupted commands to the rest of his body.

My left hand grabbed along the blade of the falling man’s sword, and I flipped the pommel into my palm as I turned around to face the last attacker. He dropped his sword and kneeled as I walked toward him. His hands went on top of his head and he started pleading with me. I didn't like the balance of the sword in my left hand so I left the blade buried in his chest.

I surveyed the clearing for any more opponents capable of attacking. I had not expected to live through such an assault, but these men proved so unskilled that even in my frail state they were easier to kill than the bugs in the tunnel. I shook my head in disappointment before sliding my sword through the neck of the one who had the dagger buried in his shoulder. Once his annoying cries of agony were silenced I made my way over to the last living soldier.

He had pushed his commander's body off and clawed at the ground to scoot away from me. My sword cut the strap attaching his helmet to his skull and I smacked it off with the flat side of the blade. Then I grabbed onto the thick, oily hair on his head and dragged him back across the wet mud to Paug's companions while he kicked and screamed. Perhaps they would want to question him. The small group hadn't moved from their position on the ground in front of the entrance to the tunnel. They surveyed the massacre with fear and shock.

"Do you want to talk to him before I kill him?" I asked Paug. I put the edge of my sword to the soldier's neck and he started to say frantic things in the unfamiliar language.

Greykin got off his knees with a grunt and began to ask the soldier questions. The man replied with hysterical passion, but the words were still intelligible. Nadea further interrogated him before Iarin had his turn. They each stared at me in fearful awe after they finished their questions. Jessmei's skin was white and I wondered if it was her normal hue or if she was about to faint. I guessed that the young woman had not seen many battles.

After a few minutes they had finished with their questioning.

"What did they ask him?" I yelled to Paug. He didn't respond immediately and I realized he had sprinted a few dozen yards away from the group to vomit. He also must have been unused to combat.

"More?" I asked Greykin, wondering if the older man would understand me. He shrugged his shoulders, so I drew the sword across my captive’s neck and held his head while he bled out. My companions gasped in horror and started to yell, but they didn't move toward me. I regarded them with a raised eyebrow. They couldn't possibly wish to keep this man alive. He had tried to kill them and would be of little use as a prisoner.

When he stopped struggling I let go of his hair and pulled the weapon belt off of his body. Then I walked over to the other corpses and began to organize their weapons into piles. The commander had the best sword, an ornate affair that appeared to be better crafted and a bit heavier than the others. I tied his belt across my robe before I grabbed the next best sword and attached it on the other hip. I gathered the five best balanced daggers and attached them to another belt I slung over my shoulder. The work occupied me for ten minutes or so, and put my mind at ease. Had I done this before? The familiarity of the task helped to relax my nerves.

My companions spoke a short distance away from me. They sounded angry as they argued amongst themselves. I couldn't understand them so I didn't bother devoting any energy to trying.

I contemplated taking a pair of boots from one of the corpses before I realized the robe I wore wasn't very good for traveling. The soft, thin shroud was wet with mud, water, and blood. These dead men weren't wearing any travel gear, so their camp had to be within walking distance. One of the corpses had a pair of leather boots that I guessed would fit, so I sat on a nearby rock and tied them around my bare feet.

While sitting, I noticed the trail through the jungle the soldiers had used to find us. I looked back at my companions and saw them involved in a passionate discussion. Nadea and Greykin were arguing. Paug had returned to them from his vomiting break, but his back was to me. They did not seem to be paying any attention to me or the trail, so I debated my next action. I needed Paug to learn this language, but I did not need to know any of the decisions the group would make in the next few minutes.

I set off down the trail at a comfortable jog. The soldiers' campsite would be close by, and once I reached it I could acquire pants, socks, and maybe a horse. I could hear and smell Paug, so I didn't have any doubt I would find him again after I obtained some gear. As I ran, the energy of the sun, earth, and water invigorated me.

I was not tired anymore.

"This is complete bullshit!" Nadea screeched at Greykin. "The king granted me charge of this expedition. You shouldn't even be here!"

"I took over this exercise in stupidity the second that I arrived. If that man really is the O'Baarni then we have no business with him anywhere near Jessmei."

I didn't know Greykin, but he scared me. He seemed to have two purposes in life: being grumpy and protecting Jessmei. Each punctuated word from his bearded mouth deepened his skin to a darker shade of red. He walked toward Nadea, but the duchess stood confidently with one graceful hand placed on her beautiful waist, while the other rested on the small sword on her side. I didn't think she would use it on Greykin, but they were both so mad that anything seemed possible.

It was the same conversation they had every night for the last three weeks. Of course, now the O'Baarni was awake and had killed eight Vanlourn warriors with ease. So I understood why Greykin brought up the danger of this mission again. The legends said the O’Baarni had slaughtered thousands of the Ancient people.

"He is coming with us. I was ordered by the king to find him and bring him back to the castle. Jessmei was not supposed to come and neither were you." Nadea shot an angry glance at her cousin.

"I'm sorry Nay. The castle is so boring and I figured we would only be gone for a few weeks." Jessmei's voice sounded like the beautiful bells at the temple. Sometimes I couldn't even look at her, every time she spoke to me I got nervous and stuttered.

"The Vanlourn soldiers must have found out you left Nia and tracked you," the tall woman glared at Greykin, "or your pompous bodyguard."

"I'm about as pompous as you are, girl. I've completed more sorties in this country than you've had bedtime stories. I am experienced with--"

"Your experience means naught to me. Jessmei slipped out of the castle on your watch and traveled a month before you caught up to her." Nadea took her hand off of her sword hilt and pointed at the massive man. "I'd take your advice if I wanted to find a tavern."

"Are you inferring that I am a drunkard who failed his duty?" Greykin's face turned a whole new shade of red and his hand clutched the haft of his axe so hard that his massive knuckles turned white.

"You just said it. But I would agree." Nadea's thin leather gloves rubbed against the hilt of her sword with a squeak. The tension seemed to rise to a boil and I wondered if they would come to blows this time.

"Hey, hey, hey." Iarin bravely thrust his body between them and raised his hands. "Can we calm down a bit? Half a minute ago we faced violent murder and now we are alive. It's a great day, no?" Nadea took her hand off of her sword and crossed her arms over her chest.