Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (10 page)

“And as far as concerns my parents … think of them
what you will. They gave me the name, and I have learned to live with it.” The
hermit—Rashan—rose from the log and began to walk back toward his cottage. “Now
that you have my secret, I trust you not to make a fuss over it in front of
your men. I doubt many of them have much of a grasp of history, but that
accursed idiom has plagued the name ‘Rashan’ for all time, it would seem. I do
not keep pitchforks or torches lying about, but I am sure the superstitious
peasant-folk you command could make do with swords should they decide to rid
themselves of an unfortunately named stranger.”

“Wait,” Brannis called quietly after Rashan, concerned
not to let his voice carry as far as where his men lay sleeping. “What do you
mean by that? Do you think that my men will kill you just because of some
coincidence about your name?”

Brannis got up and followed after the hermit.

Still walking, Rashan replied, “I expect them to think
it an ill omen, and yes, perhaps even to try to end my life. I am sure to be
blamed for anything that goes amiss. That is how the ignorant get by in life:
they blame that which they do not understand for their troubles. I know these
woods well and could probably elude any of you for longer than you would care
to look, but I do not wish to be driven away. I am concerned for your sorcerer
friend, Iridan, and would not leave him untended if I am able.”

He shot Brannis a sharp look, and his point was all
too clear.

He will take care of Iridan, but I must ensure that
the rest of the men do not find out his name. I wonder if I should not have
asked him in the first place.

Brannis followed Rashan back to the cottage in
silence. His mind was now a blur of varied worries, and the dark thoughts that
had haunted his mind and driven away sleep now had company in plenty inside
Brannis’s head.

What drove this hermit, Rashan, into seclusion? Was he
persecuted because of his name, or was there some other reason?
That was something to consider, certainly. Brannis
sighed, knowing as well that he had gotten caught up as keeper of an unwanted
secret.
What if I let slip his name in front of one of the commoner
soldiers? Would he really be in danger from them?

As Brannis lay once more on the soft forest floor, the
weight of his fatigue pressed down on him anew. But now without the recurring
vision of Sir Aric’s face to afflict his thoughts, he was able to surrender,
finally, to the urgent calling of his body for rest.

Rashan, who had watched through half-closed eyes until
the rhythmic rise and fall of Brannis’s chest proclaimed his slumber, quietly
arose from the tree against which he rested and went to check on Iridan.

Chapter
7 - Bearers of Bad News

The morning sun was high above the horizon and the dew
that had graced the leaves and wild grasses had burned away already. There was
a nervous edge to the mood of the goblins as they took their morning meal.
Jinzan Fehr was stomped through the camp, his glare clearing a path before him
as he the human sorcerer waded among his goblin hosts. He sought out G’thk to
find out what had befallen.

“What is this about?” Jinzan demanded of G’thk when he
found the goblin general. He was ill-kempt and bleary-eyed from having just
awakened, having come directly from his tent, seeking neither grooming nor dawn
feast. “I was supposed to be informed as soon as the runners arrived with news
of the battle! Here it is, full morning, and yet I was not awakened!”

[They have not returned yet,] G’thk replied simply and
calmly. This stopped Jinzan short. [You were not alerted due to this event not
happening. Had we received news from the battle, this news would have been
yours to know as well.] The two of them each understood the other's language
but each spoke his own. Jinzan could hack and cough out bits of the harsh
goblin tongue when he had to but prefered to spare his throat the pain it
caused him. G'thk would grow winded with all the vowels of the Megrenn dialect
of human that Jinzan spoke.

“What do you mean? The runners should have been sent
as soon as there was word. The battle should have been over hours ago. Send out
a search party immediately to find out what has become of them,” Jinzan
ordered, not even bothering to beg askance of the goblin general.

G’thk’s eyes narrowed. [My commanders are given
discretion to choose how best to carry out their orders. I ordered that the
humans be eliminated and that none be allowed to escape. I ordered that runners
come with news when news is to be had. I gave no order that runners must be
back in time for dawn feast so as not to anger human sorcerer and plan battle accordingly.
I gave no such foolish orders. You will wait, as I do. Go eat.]

"Has there been any word on the progress of the
construction efforts in Tnk’Ch’Nck?” Jinzan asked as the general turned to
leave. He stumbled over the awkward goblin city name but had nothing else to
call it.

[I have received no news of any new progress. The
tinkers are still working with the plans you provided, and their last report
was favorable. This device is new to my people, but we are eager to learn more
about the wondrous things you have described to us. Do not despair, sorcerer,
for your plan seems sound. We will build your device by the time it is needed.]
The general patted Jinzan on the arm. [Have faith in our metallurgists and
alchemists.]

Jinzan kept his face impassive but nodded an
affirmation to the general. Inwardly he groaned.

Of course … faith,
Jinzan thought.
Everything comes down to that with you goblins, does
it not?

Jinzan had lived among the goblins for a more than a
season and had learned a great deal about their culture, including their
religion.

The goblins believed that so long as they followed
their dragon gods’ precepts, everything would work out in the end. It was a
philosophy that grated on Jinzan, for he had never believed that anything would
go right unless he forced it to do so by his own will. Nevertheless the belief
in the rightness of their own actions made the goblins fearsome opponents. The
very fact that goblin sorcerers engaged in combat at all—especially given that
most human sorcerers considered magical combat one step removed from
suicide—showed that this belief system aided his plans. Without goblin
sorcerers on the battlefield when the time came, his plan might be revealed too
soon.

Surrounded by a small army of goblins, Jinzan had
little choice but to obey the general, so he made his way to the mess line. He
more poked at the mush that made up dawn feast than ate it, though, as he was
preoccupied with the lateness of the army’s report. By all accounts, the
raiders should have made it to the Kadrins’ campsite before midnight, and he
could not imagine a scenario that could cause the battle to be so prolonged
that it would still be raging come morning.

Jinzan had not half-finished his mush when the goblin
sentries raised the alarm thatthe survivors of the battle had been spotted.
Initially the sentries believed them to be runners bearing news of battle, and
they sent them directly to G’thk. Jinzan discarded the remains of his meal
hurriedly, eager to hear what had happened.

Eleven goblins in all had returned, the survivors of
the battle with the Kadrins, but they only had five spears among them. All were
fatigued from having fled the battlefield at a run. Jinzan suspected he was not
the only one to think these looked less like runners than they did deserters.

[Report! How went the battle?] G’thk demanded. There
was nervous shifting among the survivors, as none seemed to want to step
forward and admit what had taken place. [Well, which of you is the runner? One
of you had best answer me.]

A garbled mess of goblin-speech followed as several of
the survivors began to speak at once, each relating their version of events,
which Jinzan struggled to understand. G’thk quieted them with a raised hand and
pointed to one of the goblins who had been speaking.

[We … We were defeated, General G’thk,] the selected
goblin said. [Our sorcerers, three even, could not overcome the humans’
sorcerer. One of the human knights wielded a foul sword that seemed enchanted
to belch forth fumes, which harmed all that they touched. We fought them well
and killed many. The human sorcerer lost control of his aether and began to
throw flames wildly. If he is like our firehurlers, he must be dead now, as he
fell to the ground and lay still afterward. The human knight with the sword we
could not kill, though, and the few of us left could not fight off the last of
the humans.]

Jinzan kept outwardly calm but his mind was spinning.
How
can this be? The Kadrins should not have been able to withstand the attack. The
scouts reported that their numbers were few, and three sorcerers should have
been enough.

The survivor’s report held but one bright spot, which
was the apparent demise of the Kadrin sorcerer who had defeated three of his
own. The Kadrins were not know for employing firehurlers in their battles; the
term referred to inept sorcerers with so little control they could manage no
better than to ignite aether as a weapon—a crude tactic, wasteful of aether,
and dangerous. It was not uncommon for goblin firehurlers to draw in more
aether than they could safely handle in the heat of battle. When overcome in
such a manner, it was almost always fatal to the goblin that had lost control.
The bodies became burned-out husks, charred from the inside. Goblins were not
above bringing such dangerous liabilities among their number, but the Kadrin
sorcerer had to have been better than that. He had bested three goblins who
were far better than the common firehurlers G'thk had originally wanted to
bring along before Jinzan objected. If the Kadrin had been overcome by the
aether he had drawn in, it was possible he had survived; maybe not likely, but
possible.

G’thk turned from the survivors and clasped his hands
behind his back. He appeared lost in thought. Jinzan, however, was not so
pensive.

“What are you doing back here, cowering like
misbehaving children?” Jinzan demanded. “Why did none of you think to stay
behind and watch over the army.” Jinzan paused, seeming to take note of the
blank look on the goblins’ faces. They did not understand a word of what he was
saying, though they could understand well enough that he was furious with them.
Angrily resigning himself to using goblin, he tried again: [Why you soldier
goblins not stay and die or stay and see? Now soldier humans leave, you not
know where! We blame you! Plan say we not have humans know we come. My plan,
and you break it!]

“Haru bedaessi leoki kwatuan gelora,”
Jinzan quickly growled out under his breath and then
made a sweeping gesture with his arms. The goblin who had given his report to
G’thk went flying through the air, landing in a bush a score of paces away. The
surprised screech the goblin let out at being lifted into the air by magic gave
way to a yelp and a dazed moan, as the unfortunate soldier apparently survived
his flight.

[No fail plan, or more goblin-birds there will be,]
Jinzan warned all the goblins present, survivor or not. He turned and stalked
back to his tent to think in peace.

*
* * * * * * *

It was a disaster in the making. Jinzan sat fuming in
his tent, trying to think of a way to prevent word of their army’s presence in
Kelvie Forest from reaching Kadrin. Surely they must have already been
suspicious, thought Jinzan, or they would not have sent an armed force into the
woods to investigate. They had obviously underestimated the goblins’ presence,
for if they had known of the true strength of the expeditionary force, they
would have sent far more troops than they had.

Jinzan was also troubled by the presence of a knight
armed with a magical sword. Such artifacts were rare indeed, since sorcery was
required to create them and sorcerers had little use for them. Most were gifts
given to heroes of the Empire in reward of great achievement, and they were
passed from generation to generation. That could mean that either the knight
was distinguished among his peers for his accomplishments, or was the
descendant of such a one. The only other aether-forged swords that Jinzan knew
of within the Empire were those that had been wielded in the bygone days of the
warlocks. While he considered it unlikely, Jinzan knew that there existed the
possibility that this was a warlock’s sword, given to the knight for this
assignment due to an especial effectiveness in combating goblins. It was not a
comforting thought.

Jinzan needed to find answers. He hugged his arms
closely to his body, shut his eyes, and lowered his head. He took a deep,
steady breath. As he focused on each breath in turn, he gradually extended
feelings into the aether, and he began to discern the Source of every plant,
every goblin, and every stinking oxen in the area. With his eyes closed, he
could see the flows of aether wafting from each Source, stream into river,
river into ocean, filling the very air around him.

Every muscle in Jinzan’s body tensed as he willed his
consciousness into ever-clearer focus. He was not attempting to create magic,
but to find it. Two human soldiers had been marked by the assassin Gkt’Lr
during the night of the first raid, a bit of tracking magic to help locate them
should the hunters lose their quarry. Gkt’Lr was no sorcerer, though, and the
magic had been a paltry thing. Jinzan had monitored the fighting, waiting for
the marking magic to appear to him and had kept tabs on the two men until the
magic on one of them failed. The one that he had been able to watch had been
found by G’thk’s raiders and had led the way to a second human army camped in
Kelvie Forest. The loss of the other man still nagged at Jinzan and he now
sought to find either one of them, hoping to pick up some trace of the marking
magic.

Jinzan’s musing was broken by someone opening the flap
of his tent. Turned from his introspection, he was suddenly aware of a clamor
of activity outside in the goblins’ camp.

[Sorcerer, we are moving out. We are going to occupy
the humans’ campsite and lead our search from there. If any returns to the
battlefield, our sentries will find them,] G’thk called into the tent.

Good,
thought Jinzan,
they are not going to sit idle.
Still, Jinzan worried
that the humans had a head start in their escape, for surely they would not
have remained long after such a battle.

“Send for that assassin. Have him meet us at the
Kadrins’ camp,” Jinzan ordered G’thk.

 G'thk glowered at Jinzan, who realized he had
overstepped himself. The infraction went unmentioned, but Jinzan knew he had
only so much rope before his noose pulled taut.[I will dispatch a runner to
fetch him. Do not worry, sorcerer. My people do not leave business unfinished
in such a way. We will hunt those humans down and finish them off before they
give away your plan.]

G’thk managed to save a little face by that last
remark, subtly pointing out that it was Jinzan’s plan—and not his own—that was
going awry. With three of his sorcerers apparently killed by the Kadrin humans
and without even the small protection that the assassin’s presence would have
afforded him, G’thk was in no position to have a confrontation with the
dangerous Jinzan Fehr.

*
* * * * * * *

The runner had been sent to seek out the elite goblin
assassin, Gkt’Lr, and the goblin army had set out toward the battlefield,
guided by the survivors of the slaughter. The camp had been broken down in a
remarkably short time. Tents were packed up, gear was stowed, oxen were laden,
and troops were assembled. Quartermasters had overseen the whole of the
operation, and Jinzan could quite honestly say that he had never before seen
such an organized group in his life. Each knew where everything belonged and
directed soldiers to move each item quickly and accurately onto the proper ox.
Jinzan lived in the huge port city of Zorren and had seen many cargo ships
loaded and unloaded in his lifetime. Those chaotic productions could hardly be
any more at odds with the neatly efficient coordination of the goblins.