Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) (8 page)

Each of the survivors knelt before him, pledging themselves to him. The floor seemed to spin and Ilfedo stepped back. Him, a new Lord Warrior?

The five sisters did not bow, yet they watched him as he nodded to the people. It made sense. A Lord Warrior was needed, and no one else could fill that role. Only a short time ago he’d have thought this impossible. Now these people knelt before him, and he reached out, embraced the idea.

He did wish it. For the sake of his daughter and all children within the Hemmed Land’s borders growing up with the knowledge that the Sea Serpents and many other creatures might, at any time, encroach upon their heritage and possibly take their lives.

He looked at the sword sheathed at his side. It offered him a chance to become a greater warrior than ever the Hemmed Land had seen. This weapon was the key to his future.

Except he no longer had a future, not without Dantress. His heart rent within him as he recalled the face of his beloved wife. So young, so beautiful, when she was torn from him. His future had died with her.

No
, he cursed himself. He had loved completely, without reservation, and it had cost him his joy. Maybe he didn’t have a future, but he did have the responsibility to build one for his child. Oganna was all he had that mattered. He would build a hedge of protection around her that nothing could penetrate.

He addressed the townspeople. “If you will follow me, then remain here and wait for my return. The Sea Serpents must be forced back into the sea from which they came, and I intend to make certain they never return.

“Your town is in shambles. Go! Put out the fires, clean your streets, tend to your wounded, and bury your dead. I will return.”

Without looking back he exited the building. On the ground near the steps lay his bearskin coat. He left it there, left it in the dust. Behind him the sisters kept pace, their swords still drawn.

Ilfedo headed south, out of town. The fresh sea breezes cleaned the smoke from his lungs. The clear blue sky tempted his eyes upward, but he ignored it. His gaze searched the fields along the coast, looking for signs of other serpents.

Once, he ventured to look back at the town, now receding into the distance. Only scant wisps of smoke wavered above the buildings, a good sign that the townspeople were following his instructions.

He sighed. By accepting the title of Lord he had allowed himself to become an icon, a hero to the people. This would change his life forever. No longer would he be able to hide out in the wilderness. His name would be known, the tales of his deeds told, his prominence assured.

Ahead lay a life far different from that which he’d come to love. But sometimes change—even this sort of change, destructive as it seemed to him—was necessary.

Leading the five sisters along the coast, he pressed southward in search of other Sea Serpents.

A gust of wind struck Seivar, and he angled his white-feathered wings to take advantage of the updraft. The air carried him a little higher, just enough to skim the top of a high oak tree poking above the forest.

Beside him and a little behind, Hasselpatch followed suit, gliding effortlessly in his wake.

Both of them searched the forest, their silver eyes darting about, sharp vision piercing the forest ceiling to scan for signs of Sea Serpents. Not many hours before they had found Honer and Ganning leading a party of hunters.

Hasselpatch had spotted a Sea Serpent slipping through the trees toward the hunters. She angled her wings for a swift descent, reversing her direction and returning in time to warn Honer and Ganning.

Forewarned, the men spread out and surprised the serpent, falling upon it from all sides and efficiently dispatching it.

Since that incident neither of the birds had seen anything of consequence.

Seivar glanced back at his mate. “Master must have reached the coast by now.” He noted with pride how the sunlight glinted off Hasselpatch’s hooked beak. No Nuvitor rivaled his mate’s graceful form and, though they had not spent much time in the company of their kind, he had noticed envy in the eyes of many Nuvitor males they’d encountered in the Hemmed Land forests.

Snapping her beak at him, Hasselpatch twisted in the air, unabashedly flirting with him. For that he admired her all the more.

But as he twisted in the air to return her play, a wedge-shaped, black-scaled head penetrated the forest’s ceiling. A Sea Serpent closed its white eyes and opened its jaws to intercept Seivar’s mate.

With a screech of terror and anger, Seivar pulled himself with natural fluidity through the air. He dove for the serpent’s closed eyelids, ripped into them with his talons and pulled them apart. The big round, white eye of the serpent lay exposed for that moment. And he opened his silver beak as wide as possible, stabbing deep into the rubbery ball.

The Sea Serpent recoiled from his attack, dropping through the tree, uncoiling from its branches as it fell.

Tightening his bite, Seivar yanked out the apple-sized eyeball and flapped his wings, using them to carry himself back above the forest. After flying a victorious circle around his mate, making certain she saw the prize he’d obtained in her honor, he dropped it into the forest and dove back in.

It was his intention to take the serpent’s remaining eye, but the serpent was thrashing about, knocking into tree trunks. The commotion had brought several men armed with spears and axes.

Seivar left them to attend to the creature, shooting through the forest canopy to join Hasselpatch. Her silvery eyes regarded him with soft affection, and he indulged in flying another circle around her before leading her eastward.

The forest passed easily beneath them. Not much farther and the birds saw the end of the forest. The harvested cornfields stretched to the white shore of the Sea of Serpents and the town lying in their midst. Smoke rose from the town, the buildings crumbling, burning.

Black, shiny forms slipped through the streets, crashing into the buildings with their tails. Other serpents slid from the forest, first a few, then more. They cornered a group of perhaps fifty people, huddled together in the fields.

The serpents in the town left their destructiveness in order to join the newcomers.

Seivar angled to the left, Hasselpatch flying above him. He watched the line of trees as the mighty sea creatures slithered out in great numbers. He stopped counting at sixty.

He had to find Ilfedo and warn him.

Sensing his urgency, Hasselpatch extended her wings with greater speed and followed him high above the gathering, coiling mass of serpents. They cut through the air, their talons curled to their bodies, their white feathers smoothed back.

In the distance, northward along the shore, six human figures approached. A tight cluster of smoking buildings lay behind them.

The line of white sand bordering the Sea of Serpents brought Ilfedo and the sisters within sight of a walled town.

Evela stepped up beside Ilfedo as he surveyed the weathered, wooden buildings and the fields surrounding them. “Is something wrong?”

He looked down into her dark eyes. She gazed back with humble honesty, as if seeing through his flesh and into his soul.

“They’re here, my sisters.” He generalized his statement on purpose, uncomfortable with Evela’s proximity. There was something about her that most reminded him of Dantress.

“Good,” Rose’el retorted, “it’s about time. Now, this time, you’re not taking them on alone.”

“Agreed.” Caritha set a hand on her shoulder, but rebuked her with a glance. She directed her attention to Ilfedo. “But we will follow your lead, Ilfedo.”

Laura and Levena nodded. Evela stepped back and stood ready with her sword pointed at the ground.

Surveying the town up ahead, Ilfedo recognized the wall surrounding it. No high buildings poked above the barrier. This was the place where he first faced the Sea Serpents. Here, where it began, he would end it. Smoke curled up from some place near the wall. A dark mass appeared.
Serpents
.

“If you are coming with me, my sisters”—he drew the sword of the dragon and let the living fire cover his body, clothing him in the armor of fire that glowed with white light—“then stay close.” He fastened his gaze on each of them in turn, raised his sword aloft. “As long as you stay with me you will be safe.” He glanced at Evela. “I promise.”

An eagle-like screech caught his ear. He looked up and smiled as his faithful Nuvitors dove from the sky, flapping their wings to slow their descent and land on his shoulders.

“Master,” Seivar snapped his beak, “the serpents are gathering prisoners.”

Hasselpatch fluffed her feathers. Her silvery eye regarded the sisters.

“How many?” Ilfedo asked.

Seivar cocked his head, his eye rolling as he considered. “Almost a hundred, Master. At least.”

“You’ve done well, my friends,” Ilfedo stroked Seivar’s chest and then Hasselpatch’s. “Now … I want both of you to go to the forest and wait until the fight is over.”

“Master!” Seivar protested.

But Hasselpatch reacted by flying off of Ilfedo’s shoulder and circling his head. “We will not leave you, Master.” Then, in evident rebellion, she landed on a startled Rose’el’s shoulder.

The tallest sister cautiously stroked the bird’s chest.

Ilfedo knew the Nuvitor too well to try and change its mind. With a resigned sigh, he faced the town and walked toward it. The five sisters flanked him on both sides, their expressions hardened, their hands tightening around the leathern grips of their rusted swords.

Rose’el’s mouth froze in a frown and she glanced at Hasselpatch. The Nuvitor remained perched on her shoulder.

Pushing the sisters and the birds from his mind and focusing on the fight ahead, Ilfedo put on a burst of speed to reach the serpents first. He could see their forty-foot lengths gathered a quarter of a mile from his position. The first of the serpents’ prisoners was plucked from their midst as he approached, tossed into the air by one of the vile creatures. Ilfedo’s heart flamed within his chest as the helpless individual was ripped in two by a pair of serpents that raised their heads, one grabbing the legs and the other taking the torso.

Like a living firebrand, Ilfedo rushed upon the Sea Serpents. Seivar launched from his shoulder, pecking out the eyes of the first serpent to turn and face him.

“Come on!” Ilfedo screamed, laying about him with the sword of the dragon. “Face a real challenge! Face me and die, you cowards!” His blade opened the blubbery forms with ease, spilling blue serpent blood on the ground.

Standing back as the serpents turned to face him, he pointed his sword’s blade at them and willed destruction upon them. Five of the creatures fell immediately beneath a torrent of fire thrown from the sword’s blade.

Uniting with his blade in a mental bond, he half-closed his eyes, sensing rather than seeing his opponents around him. The serpents lashed out with their fangs and swung with their tails, stabbing at him. But he evaded them, ducking under their blows.

Three of the creatures slithered around him, working together against him. Their numbers were overwhelming. A few of them would have been difficult enough; now he felt a hundred pairs of white eyes focusing on him.

The townspeople in the serpents’ midst ran for freedom. Some were killed by the massive bodies thrashing around and over them.