Dogged the obsidian path, p.19
Dogged (The Obsidian Path), page 19
Startled, she threw the door open, and I stepped through.
Unlike the mages I’d recently dispatched, these wizards didn’t look quite so clean and perfect. Some were wounded, bloody bandages adorning limbs. Others were smoke-stained and filthy, their eyes reminiscent of cornered rabbits. They’d seen battle in the city and then retreated here like cowards.
A score of heads turned in my direction, and they stared at me in stunned amazement.
I lifted the bright spear. “Leave or die.” I didn’t expect them to obey, but if even one or two chose to flee, I’d face a few less wizards.
Two baby-faced wizards disappeared, popping out of existence. The rest gripped their staffs tight, drew glowing symbols in the air, or grinned at me with smug anticipation. I showed them my teeth, which wiped away a few smiles. Then, using my spear as a bludgeoning weapon, I left a deep dent in the top of the nearest mage’s skull. That erased a few more smug expressions.
As they were still realizing what I’d done, I spun the shaft and smashed the top of another wizard’s skull clean off. Splintered bone, torn flesh and hair flew across the room to strike a young woman in her white robes, leaving a brilliant red butterfly pattern on her chest. So, perhaps not that clean.
People often underestimated how long a wardog’s reach was and always underestimated how fast we were. I guess, because we were big, they assumed we’d lumber like earth elementals.
To give the mages credit, no one else fled. Instead, they unleashed a maelstrom of destructive magic in my direction. Coiling snakes of savage chaos lashed out with whip-like speed. Seething flames boiled toward me from a dozen directions. Lightning crackled, stabbing forked barbs, and other magical manifestations I had no words for lunged at me. I had half a heartbeat to hope I hadn’t misunderstood the spear’s power, or that this amount of raw magery wouldn’t overwhelm its defences, and then I couldn’t see for all the madness raging around me. As I knew where the next closest mage stood, I took two strides in her direction and stabbed blindly. I felt enough resistance to know I’d slammed the point through bone.
The various magical attacks drained away, and I found myself surrounded by the surprised faces of more than a dozen mages. I hadn’t felt a thing, not so much as a single fur singed, though the carpet around me smouldered and a nearby chair had been twisted into an impossible shape without the wood cracking.
I spun, whipping the spear around, and caved in the ribs of another wizard. He dropped with a choked wheeze and lay gagging on the floor, trying to draw breath into crumpled lungs. More fire and lightning lashed out at me as I leapt a sofa to land among a huddled knot of wizards. For all they mocked wardogs for being stupid, I was surprised at their apparent inability to learn and adapt. Instead, they kept trying to take me down with the same attacks that had already failed. I killed three more, stabbing and smashing, sending bent bodies spinning across the room to smack wetly into walls, before a bookcase crushed me to the ground.
Still gripping the spear, I heaved the bookcase off me and staggered back to my feet. Though my ribs had been bruised, I felt I hadn’t even begun to exert myself. The dead god meat fuelled me better than a hearty meal.
Understanding dawned on the faces around me, and I knew they’d figured out the hole in my defences. The spear would protect me from direct magical attacks, but if they used wizardry to throw things at me it still hurt.
A chair twitched and then hurled itself across the room to down the wizard behind me when I sidestepped it. It had been a clumsy attack, easy to see coming. I killed another mage, stabbing the point of the spear through his forehead and leaving a neat round hole. Another bookcase crashed into me from my left, spinning me to the ground. When I tried to stand, my left arm hung limp and useless, the elbow shattered. The god meat hadn’t made me invincible. Blood ran from where shards of bone poked through my fur. Rolling the other way, I returned to my feet, spear still clutched in my right paw. If I dropped it, I’d be dead in an instant.
I killed two more before a foot-long splintered chair leg impaled my belly.
They’d realized it might be quicker to fill me full of holes than to try battering me to death. Another jagged piece of shattered bookcase darted toward me, and I slapped it from the air with the spear. The distraction cost me, as two more vicious missiles caught me in the back.
I kicked an aging mage in the chest, sending her crashing into the young wizards behind her, and then killed two more with the spear. Blood loss was making me sloppy. When I spun to crush the head of the third, he ducked under my wild swing. That was a bad sign. If a chubby mage could avoid my attacks, it meant I was slowing.
Each breath caused a sharp, stabbing pain. One of those bookcases had cracked a few ribs.
I impaled the chubby mage and then realized I didn’t have the strength to send his dying body spinning toward the last two mages, who’d retreated to the far corner. Instead, I had to settle for kicking him off the end of my spear.
Something struck me from behind and I looked down to see a length of twisted wrought iron railing sticking out of my belly.
That hurt.
Cold in my gut, it felt wrong. I wanted to pull it out but dared not release the spear to do so. Anyway, I’d suffered enough similar wounds to know it was better to leave the iron where it was until there was some kind of medical assistance nearby. Bad as it felt, I’d bleed out faster without it plugging the wound.
I staggered toward the wizards as they sent bits of furniture lancing into me. One rose up off the floor, hovering near the ceiling, well out of reach of my spear. I recognized Theramynn, the mage from the embassy. The other backed away, easily matching my pace. I knew then I was done. I couldn’t move fast enough to catch the one on the ground and couldn’t kill the other without throwing my spear. Even if they did no further damage, eventually I’d bleed out.
The retreating wizard passed before the door I’d exited, and it swung open to reveal Balen gripping the staff he’d taken in both hands. He clubbed the mage from behind, crushing the back of his skull.
The floating wizard looked from me to Balen and Sahar as they entered the room. “I’ll make you a deal,” Theramynn said. “If you leave now, I won’t boil your friends’ blood.”
“No deal,” I growled, and hurled my spear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I stared up at Theramynn, pinned to the wall, high beyond my reach. “I did not think that through.”
Glancing around the room, I found the furniture in various states of ruin. Not enough remained that I might stack it so I could reach my spear. Apparently, I’d lost count of the number of bookcases I’d been hit with.
“Dogged?”
I turned to face Balen’s worried expression. “Hmm?”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “My left arm is broken, too.” I looked down at the chunks of wood and steel impaling me. The pain was considerable, but I knew better than to show weakness. I would continue, uncomplaining, until I fell. “I can’t tell if any internal organs have been damaged.” The wrought iron felt like an itch I couldn’t reach, but much worse. “We must leave Aszyyr. Once you’re safe, we can figure out what to do about…” I gestured at the iron railing sticking from my belly. “… this.”
“You’re sure?” Sahar asked.
“Yes. When it comes out, I will lose a lot of blood. Fast. It will weaken me. I might lose consciousness.”
Truth be told, I already felt myself slipping away. More than anything, I wanted to lie down and take a nap.
With a last rueful look at my spear and the dead wizard still dangling from it, I led my friends from the Wizards’ Guild Hall.
Balen and Sahar propped me up, one under each arm. Careful as they were, each time my broken arm swung loose, grinding fragments of bone together, I clenched my jaw in pain. The iron and splintered wood in my gut moved with every step, lighting my innards with agony. I didn’t embarrass myself by making a sound.
No reason to be ‘a little concerned,’ I thought, remembering my Kennel Master and the way she said that before removing a wardog from duty.
I wouldn’t let Sigaria down.
After following countless winding hallways and passing through rooms both strange and familiar, we stumbled into the streets of Aszyyr. Even though I now stood outside the same entrance where I’d first faced Airyn Thelm, I recognized nothing. Entire city blocks had been smashed flat. Buildings burned, flames reaching far into the sky. The harsh sounds of battle, magical and otherwise, echoed through the smoke-choked streets. Looking back to the Guild Hall, I saw the gaping wound where a horror lizard had crashed into the structure and bared my teeth in a feral grin. If nothing else, the wizards would have to rebuild their pretentious homage to purity and cleanliness.
“Where to?” Sahar asked, looking up at me with more than a little concern.
I mumbled, “I’m fine,” and she gave me an odd look.
“The dock?” Balen suggested from under my other arm. “Maybe we can find the BlackThorne.”
“I saw the harbour from my cell window. I don’t think anything survived.”
He sagged, and I realized too late my careless words had hurt him.
The ground shook and we braced ourselves to keep from falling. A distant rumbling grew in volume until it became louder than the loudest thunder. Unable to maintain our balance, we fell in an awkward heap. I landed badly, the wrought iron rail grating against the stone behind me.
I’d heard an earthquake before, in some faraway reality, but this was different. It built and built, the ground shaking harder and harder, like the world meant to tear itself apart. My friends yelled as they desperately tried to cling to anything that might anchor them, but I heard none of it. Ears flat, I cowered beneath the crescendo. Someone had summoned a Lord of Hell or perhaps the Demon Emperor himself had called his god, She Dreams in Blood, to our world. The castle on the next block, which had miraculously survived the fighting, exploded onto the street, individual carved stones coming apart like scattered wood blocks. A raging mountain smashed through the castle’s remains, and scores of streets disappeared beneath its stone bulk as it ground to a stop. Not the largest mountain I’d ever seen, but the biggest I’d seen awake and goaded into battle. A tiny dot stood high atop the colossal stone beast.
“Is that a person up there?” Balen asked in stunned amazement.
Sprawled on the ground, he made no attempt to rise. I decided that was a wise choice and did the same.
“One of the emperor’s cadre elementalists,” I answered, recognizing the deep brown of the distant robes. “They’ve woken the mountain and ridden it to war.”
I was only vaguely aware of the local geography but was certain the Krsak Mountains were weeks north of us. Either the elementalist had left long before this attack started, or mountains travelled faster than I thought.
I heard a screamed command, pale and thin with distance, and the lumbering rock monstrosity surged into motion. Once again, the ground shook and I was glad I’d stayed down. We watched, helpless, as the mountain crashed through the next city block, crushing everything beneath it. This was death without discrimination. Wizard or sorcerer, rich man or peasant, everyone in its path died.
A horror lizard swept by overhead, low enough its passing ruffled my fur, and I smelled the reptilian stink of it over the pall of smoke and dust throttling the city. The dragon, ridden by a figure in brilliant white robes, banked hard and then rose in a steep climb, wings beating frantically. It belched roiling green flames as it passed the dot of an elementalist and then those brown robes were burning emerald and the tiny figure tumbled down the side of a steep cliff face. I watched it bounce off an outcropping of rock before disappearing into a crevice.
The mountain screamed, a deafening roar of rage and loss and sadness and hate. No longer beholden to the elementalist, it lurched awkwardly through the city, wreaking destruction and leaving ruin in its wake. Though the wizards had killed the elementalist guiding it, I wasn’t sure they’d achieved anything useful. In a deranged frenzy, the mountain charged straight toward the harbour. Horror lizards circled it, breathing their fire upon its stone shoulders to little effect. If the mages attacked it too, their attempts were so pitiful I couldn’t see them.
The mountain rampaged across the docks. Even the largest warships looked like flecks of flotsam and jetsam as they disappeared beneath its bulk. It plunged into the water, its roars becoming agonized cries of sundered rock. Boulders shook loose as the ocean responded with its own anger at the invasion. I’d always heard that it wasn’t safe to bring earth elementals near any sizeable body of water but had never seen it. The ocean attacked the mountain, wave after wave, each larger than the last, slamming into it, trying to smash it apart.
The mountain no longer rampaging, the ground stopped shaking and I could hear, though my ears rang. Down by the docks, the waves suddenly stopped, all the water rushing away like it meant to flee out to sea. Fishes, sharks, and strange ocean creatures flopped about in the mud left behind.
Confused by the sudden retreat, I said, “Why?”
Balen and Sahar rose to their feet, but I didn’t feel like moving quite yet. I wasn’t exactly comfortable, but standing seemed like more effort than it was worth.
“When the ocean returns,” Balen said, “it will come as a single massive wave. It will smash the mountain and destroy what remains of Aszyyr.”
“Oh,” I said, looking up at him. “You should get moving then.”
He stared down at me, brow furrowing. “We should get moving.”
I was too tired for his need to be oddly precise. “Yes, you and Sahar should get as far inland as you can.”
“He meant the three of us,” Sahar corrected.
I thought about getting up and discovered a lack of motivation. “I’ll wait here.”
There was more, but I was tired. I’d failed Sigaria and Nhil. I’d failed to avenge Vigilant Aggression’s death, and I wasn’t at all sure I’d truly managed to answer my one question. I knew now why he’d died, but not specifically who killed him. Worse, I’d failed my emperor. Waiting for the ocean to end my pain, wash away my many failures, seemed better than a pointless struggle for survival.
Balen crouched at my side. “I’m not leaving without you.”
Sahar looked terrified as she crossed her arms and nodded agreement.
“Because a Sofame never abandons a friend,” I grumbled, very tempted to use one of the bad words I knew.
Balen nodded, lips twitching toward a smile.
If the only way to get him to safety was to stand and walk, then stand and walk I would.
I rose, with much help from my friends. Blood soaked the ground where I’d lain, more than I wanted to see. A lot more.
We walked north, picking our way across the rubble of a ruined city. Clambering over toppled buildings or cutting through the remains of what might have been libraries and mansions, the going was slow and painful. My wounds left me weak, the many shards of wood and steel that impaled me making the climb difficult.
My legs buckled beneath me as we reached the far side of a tower that had toppled across our path. We were at the north end of the city.
“I need to rest,” I said, sliding to the ground. Too heavy for them to possibly carry, they had no choice but to ease me down. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I lied.
Balen turned, searching the night. The sounds of war had faded to nothing, and silence reigned like a sulking god. We hadn’t made it nearly far enough to be safe when the ocean returned.
Balen glanced at Sahar. “I’ll be back soon, but if you don’t want to wait, I understand.”
“I’ll be here.”
Sahar and I watched him jog off into the darkness.
“I hope he doesn’t come back,” I said.
“Me too.”
“Follow him. If it looks like he means to return, convince him not to.”
“He’ll return.”
“I know.”
That seemed to be the end of the conversation.
Sahar knelt beside me, frowning at my wounds in the dark. “You don’t seem to be bleeding quite so much.”
“All my blood is already on the outside.”
“And you said that wardogs don’t have a sense of humour.”
I hadn’t been joking but was too tired to argue.
My eyes slid closed, and I felt myself slip away from the world like sinking into warm mud.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I woke, annoyed at being repeatedly hit in the back of the head. Staring at the sky, watching unfamiliar stars pass by overhead, I didn’t realize I lay in the back of an open wagon until it hit another bump, and my skull bounced again. I heard the splashed sound of people walking through water and caught the distinct smell of two donkeys. My stomach rumbled but I was too tired to eat anything, much less kill it first.
“Balen?”
He appeared at the side of the wagon, looking down at me. “We survived.”
“So far,” I agreed, though lying in the back of a wagon didn’t change the number of sharp things impaling my body.
“The wave came,” he continued. “We were far enough from the coast the water only reached to our knees. It’s been draining away for the last while and is only ankle-deep now.” He grinned at me. “You’re heavier than you look. We almost couldn’t get you into the wagon. I was worried our awkward efforts would cause even more damage.”
They had, but I didn’t complain.
We passed a tree and then another. Soon, we were surrounded by forest and the scents and tentative sounds of the jungle at night. Impossibly, they’d done it.
The wagon halted, but not before my head bounced one more time, sending bright stuttering sparks through my vision.
Sahar appeared at the other side of the wagon, studying me in the dark. “I think we should try and get that stuff out of her now.”
Balen glanced from me to her and back. “I don’t know how. Sometimes the BlackThorne travelled with a medicker who took care of splinters and broken limbs, and we used to have a mage who specialized in healing until Captain Kyyrish decided she cost too much. But this…” He waved a hand at me. “She’s going to bleed to death if we pull all that wood and metal out.”
