In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) (5 page)

Horses were in high demand throughout Largo by all of the men and women joining the army (either voluntarily or involuntarily). Squeezing a simple pack horse out of Wybert had been quite a feat, but Maelgyn felt the effort was worth it. When he fled Svieda Castle, he was woefully under-prepared: He had taken a blanket to keep him warm at night, a saddlebag full of preserved foods that were long since expended, and the clothes, sword, and armor he wore. This time, he would go out better equipped. Wybert had supplied him with a tent, a mess kit, several changes of clothing (including some cold weather gear for the hike through the mountains), a month’s supply of travel food, rope, climbing gear, and a number of other things to make his trip through the Mar’Tok Mountains safer. Not to mention his maps, various papers, and a large sack of mail.

That last item was how Maelgyn had finally wheedled Wybert into giving him the pack horse. He had agreed to take a load of mail addressed to locations in Sopan. It likely would be the only chance the people of Largo would have to send mail to family and friends in Sopan until the sea routes were clear. It was a burden, yes, but one Maelgyn bore gladly.

Before getting far into this trip, Maelgyn knew he would have to cross at least one river that had no bridges. There were, according to the papers Wybert had supplied him, a few small villages which offered ferry services across the river, but those papers didn’t identify which villages those were. So far, he’d been to two river-side villages, but no ferry service was offered at either one. He wasn’t happy, making no more progress beyond wandering up the river for days with nothing to show for it.

He was just entering the third village, Rocky Run, when he spied a situation that made a little delay crossing the river unimportant. A very attractive but bizarrely dressed young woman was leaning back against a stone fence, smiling as if she knew a big secret. She was wearing battered leather pants that seemed to be partially armored and a hardened leather bustier which also appeared to serve as some kind of light armor. Surrounding her bustier, however, was a brightly colored – and strikingly mismatched – light silk vest. Her darkly colored hair was the strangest part of her appearance. It was a fairly standard length in the back, tied into a ponytail, but her bangs were the truly odd part. Neatly trimmed, the style nevertheless covered her eyes completely from view. The hair was so thick that Maelgyn had no idea how she could see out of it. Finally, there appeared to be an odd dust storm swirling lightly around her feet, spiraling around her in a slow whirlwind.

The girl, however odd-looking, was not what displeased him, however. It was the large number of rough-looking rogues surrounding her.

“Hey, darlin’,” the lead thug said, approaching the girl with a swagger. “How ‘bout you come with us and show us a good time?”

“Nah,” the girl said simply, apparently not caring that the guy was leaning into her.

“I think you should reconsider,” he said, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek roughly. “See, either you come with us, or we force you to come with us. And I think you’ll enjoy it lots more if you come with us.”

She flinched a bit when he touched her, sidestepping his advance. She refused to say anything, and instead just shook her head carelessly.

“Now what did I just say?” the thug growled. “Let’s start by you showing us your eyes…”

He’d moved his hand to her bangs, but the moment he touched her hair one of her hands shot up and grabbed his wrist. “No!” she stated emphatically.

The thug seemed surprised at her inherent strength as his hand was forced away, but he didn’t retreat. “Okay, bitch, I tried being nice. It seems you don’t want to play nice.”

“It seems to me as if she doesn’t want to play at all,” Maelgyn said, hopping off of his horse. “So why don’t you let her go?”

“And what’s it to you?” the lead punk growled, turning his attention away from the girl. “My friends and I were just having a friendly conversation with this girlie here. Haven’t you heard it’s rude to interfere in another man’s business?”

Maelgyn unobtrusively released the catch on his sword, using a hidden thumb to push it out an inch. “As a matter of fact, I have. But what if this just might happen to be
my
business?”

“What, is it your business to mess with people using a whore?” the man growled crudely.

Maelgyn raised an eyebrow, and glanced at the woman carefully. Allowing a shade of mocking humor into his voice, he asked her, “Hmm... ma’am, forgive me for being indelicate, but I suppose I shouldn’t interfere if these people have the right of it. You wouldn’t, by any chance, be a professionally licensed courtesan, would you?”

“Nope,” she said, grinning. Maelgyn was pleased to see she got the joke, and wasn’t offended by the question.

“I see. I didn’t think so, since I’ve always been told Sword Wybert outlawed prostitution in Largo so long ago I doubt either of us had been born. Well, then, gentlemen, I must ask you to refrain from bothering this young lady any more.”

“And just how will you stop us? There are five of us, and...” he pulled out a rusty, beaten sword, “we’re all armed. There’s only one of you, and I don’t see a sword on your person.”

“No?” Maelgyn brushed aside his messenger’s cloak, flashing his sword. One of the thugs gasped, but the others seemed unphased. “I think I’ve got enough of a blade to handle the lot of you.”

“Ah, cut the crap. Kill him!” the lead thug exclaimed, charging in.

Several of his friends joined him, but the one who had gasped cried out, “No, wait!”

Maelgyn’s sword sung as he drew it fully. Magically reinforcing both his own and his sword’s strength, Maelgyn’s first strike shattered the lead thug’s sword into pieces. Without magic Maelgyn might have ruined the edge of his own sword with that move, but that was one reason magic was considered so handy on the battlefield. It was almost certain he could cut through all of their weapons with the same technique, but he didn’t need to bother – as he had planned, they were intimidated from the very first blow.

Switching gears, he stepped back, using more magic to take the broken sword’s shards and send them flying, wounding two of the other thugs and pinning a third to the wall. The last armed thug in the attack, seeing the destruction wrought upon his friends in mere seconds, held back. It didn’t help him, however.

Maelgyn had noticed before the fight began that none of the thugs carried any form of lodestone protection... not that he couldn’t have worked around such protection. A mage of average strength – third rate or lower – might have difficulty with lodestones, but despite limited training Maelgyn had tremendous magical reserves. It would take something far stronger than a few personal lodestones to bother him.

With a theatrical wave of his hand, he used those tremendous magical reserves to pick up the fourth rogue and throw him down onto the ground, knocking the sword out of his arms in the process.

The one attacker still on his feet, now disarmed, stared in horror at what had happened. “Who are you?” he asked in wonder.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you!” the lone thug who’d held back said. “Don’t you recognize that weapon? He’s one of the Swords! One of the bloody Swords of the Realm!”

“Sword Prince Maelgyn, Duke of Sopan, at your service,” he sighed, nodding his head in acknowledgement. He didn’t want his presence known, but it was out, now. He considered cutting the men down to silence them, but they were just petty thugs – not foreign enemies – and they just might be useful. “I’m looking for a ferry across the river. None of you boys would happen to know where to find one, would you?”

“I do,” the girl, who he’d almost forgotten about in the ten second battle, chirped. With a wave of her hand, all of the thugs weapons – both intact and broken – flew into a pile at her feet and melted, reforming into a set of bracers for her wrists, a knife, and a bag full of rough “magic powder” – the common name for mustard-seed sized pellets of magically reactive metals typically used by mages.

The gang momentarily stopped gawking at the royalty which had suddenly appeared in their midst, and turned their attention back to the girl they had planned to rape. Apparently, she was a bit more than they might have expected as well. “That whore is a mage?” the lead thug exclaimed incredulously.

“Hush,” she answered, knocking him unconscious with a (almost certainly magic-enhanced) rap to the forehead as she walked by. Turning to Maelgyn, she smiled even wider than he’d seen from her before. “Coming?” she beckoned, turning down the street. Somehow, that slow whirlwind of dust followed her along.

Maelgyn himself was rather shocked at her casual display of power, but nodded nonetheless. Ignoring the fallen and wounded of the battle, he grabbed the reins of his two horses and started following.
Hmm, seems I blew my cover for nothing.

Chapter 4

As Maelgyn followed the mysterious girl through the back roads of a surprisingly large fishing village, a number of questions filled his mind. One of them stood above all others, however, and Maelgyn found he couldn’t pull his attention from it:
Who is this girl, anyway?

She hadn’t said anything since she almost casually called for him to follow her to the ferry. She was quite in control of herself, and was obviously quite familiar with the area – she didn’t seem to be looking where she was going, although the hair over her eyes made that hard to tell. The powerful magic she had displayed earlier seemed to be passive again, yet she walked with the confidence of someone who believed themselves invulnerable to any kind of attack – not normal behavior for someone just accosted by a gang of armed men, regardless of how handily those men were disposed of.

She knew who he was, thanks to those thugs. If she turned out to be a spy of some kind, she might be leading him into some kind of trap. She might be working with Sho’Curlas – a powerful mage sent to capture a vulnerable Sword in some backwater town where he would have no allies.

He very nearly hit himself at that thought. Yes, he revealed his identity, but he’d been fairly careful with it since that incident with the indiscrete messenger. It’s not like Sho’Curlas knew he would be in this particular village on this particular day when even he had no idea he would be here. Worrying about her being a spy was blatant paranoia.

He felt he could trust her, although he didn’t know why he felt this way. Perhaps it was because, given the magical strength displayed earlier, she could have already wiped the floor with him easily. Despite many opportunities, she hadn’t done anything to him. She had yet to give him her name, however.

Still, he followed her all the way to the ferry without question. She appeared to be planning to join him on the trip across the river. At least, he figured that when she paid both their fares.

“You don’t have to do that,” he noted, embarrassed. “I’ve got more than enough money to pay for the trip.”

She just shrugged, and then got on board the ferry. He followed her, feeling increasingly unsure of things, and allowing that paranoia to creep back in. After all, she had hardly said anything since he met her. It might help if he knew why she was joining him on the trip across the river, at least. Or even just what to call her.

“So,” he began hesitantly. There were so many questions to ask her, but what to ask first? “What’s your name?”

She seemed to not hear him at first, holding out her hand. It was then he noticed the whirlwind of dust that had been surrounding her since he’d first seen her was disappearing... or rather, was collecting in her hand. It didn’t take him long to realize that what she was collecting was a very fine form of magic powder. It wasn’t the usual iron powder, but rather a fine, silvery-colored powder based on nickel -- more expensive, less effective, but favored by certain mages because it was easier to conceal. That little act just added to his questions about her.

When she finally collected the last grain of dust, she poured the handful of magic powder into a pouch around her belt -- one of several, Maelgyn noticed. He only had one pouch, himself, and he didn’t know why someone would need more than one. Perhaps it could be because she had more than one kind of magic powder; he had noticed that the iron powder she had made from the thug’s weapons had been poured into a different pouch. However, there seemed to be more pouches than there were commonly available types of magic powder. That question, like many others, could wait, however... at least until he got her name.

“Euleilla,” she answered finally, sitting back on their bench. Even though she was just sitting, every move she made now seemed hesitant and uncertain, whereas before it was nonchalant and confident.

“Okay,” Maelgyn replied. “That answers one of the questions that have been burning in my mind for the past half hour. I suppose the next would be... are you following me, or did you just coincidentally need to cross the river yourself?”

“Following,” she said, smiling. Well, ‘smiling’ perhaps wasn’t the right word – she always seemed to be smiling. However, her lips twitched a bit to make him think she was smiling more honestly, like she was just joking with him. He didn’t get the joke, however.

“Er, I see. Why?”

She shook her head. “No questions, now. Napping. Wake me when we’re across.”

That, he realized, was the longest sentence he had yet heard her speak. At least it showed him, finally, that she could say more than one word at a time. Still, it was a rather... frustrating answer considering all of the questions he had.