Refuge: Kurt's Quest (5 page)

The huge man stalked into the center of the
circle, holding a great sword in a one handed grip.  He swung the blade through
the air, it swishing with speed, and Kurt wondered if maybe it had been a
mistake for Jackie to face the man. 
I should have been the one to challenge
him
.  But all had agreed that it would be more demoralizing to their foe
for a mere woman to beat him.

Jackie stood twenty meters away, holding both
blades in front of her, not making a move.  The big man moved from side to
side, glaring at her.

“Come, attack me woman,” called the big man.  “Or
are you just another whore playing a man’s game?”

“I think you are the one that is afraid,” said
Jackie, motioning at the man with a sword.

M’tasarl roared his displeasure and charged
forward, his sword going up over his head.  Jackie didn’t move, and Kurt cursed
under his breath at the woman who was playing with an opponent that didn’t need
to be played with.  The man slid to a stop and brought the blade down on the
unmoving woman.  Everyone sucked in their breaths, and Kurt knew they were sure
that Jackie would drop dead in the next second, her helm split, her head
cleaved down to her teeth.

Jackie moved in a blur, shifting her body to
the right while her right hand sword came up, pointed into the down coming
sword arm.  The tip penetrated the man’s armor for a couple of centimeters.  She
pulled free and moved away, while the warrior roared out his pain and anger and
brought his sword into a backswing.  He turned toward her and the heavy blade
followed, while blood splattered from his wound.

Jackie ducked under the blade and poked her
left hand sword into the man’s stomach, followed by her right hand blade to the
joint in his thigh.  Both blades penetrated through the chain mail that covered
those areas.  Not deep, just enough to draw blood.  Jackie spun away, then
dropped into a crouch, waiting for the man to come at her again.   She didn’t
have to wait long, as the warrior came at her with another roar.  He swung the
blade in from the side and she jumped over it, rolling in the air to his left
flank and pushing her blade into the man’s neck beneath his chain cowling.

Again it was a flesh wound, but as the man
turned toward Jackie, Kurt could see the anxiety in his eyes.  He came at
Jackie again, then shifted his blade, trying to catch the woman in a dodge.
Instead she stood her ground, brought a booted foot off the ground, and kicked
him in the stomach.  M’tasarl staggered back, and Jackie followed, her blades
blurring into a series of strikes that had blood splashing in the air.

M’tasarl stood there panting, his eyes darting
back and forth as if looking for an escape.  Jackie smiled and walked toward
him, both of her blades trailing.  He swung at her again, wildly, and she
brought both blades up into an X block, widening her stance and pushing the man
back.  With a kick of her left foot she knocked the man’s feet out from under
him.

The huge warrior landed on his back, and Jackie
jumped onto his chest and put both blades on his neck, forming another X.  Everyone
knew that when she moved those blades the warrior’s throat would be cut.

“Do you yield?” asked Jackie, leaning down to
look in the man’s eyes.

“Oh, yield, M’tasarl,” said Duke Larrlson,
“before she takes your damn ugly head off.”

The warrior nodded his head and Jackie jumped
off his chest, then walked away.

“So, can we pass through your lands?” asked
Duke Haraald.

“This man is as she is?” asked the wide eyed
Duke.

Haraald nodded, and Larrlson produced a wide
smile.

“Then I will join you.  For surely these are
the ones who were prophesized.”

Chapter Four

The party looked down on the walled city of
Hrasstad from the hills to the west of the capital.  It was a large cluster of
brick and stone buildings, none above two stories, with some wooden structures
scattered among them.  Kurt guesstimated that a hundred thousand people called
it home.  There was a large arena to the south side of the town, and what had
to be a palace in the center.  What interested him most were the docks along
the bay the city was built around.  There were a number of cogs, single sail
ships like those used in Medieval times, at the docks.  One as making way out
of the harbor.  There were also a couple of war galleys, which could overtake
the cog in the short run.

“The only way we can go in is through the front
gate,” said Fernis, pointing to the wall, which had towers every fifty meters
around its perimeter.  The wall ran around the peninsulas that enclosed the
harbor, and there were a couple of large towers with a boom out at the mouth.

“Well, then that’s what we’ll have to do,” said
Kurt.  “We’ll just have to blend in as best we can.  Now, what about White
Paw?”

“Bring the wolf through in a wagon,” said Duke
Haraald, looking down on the city beside them.  “As long as they don’t look in
the wagon we are fine.”

“And if they do look in the wagon?”

“Then we start talking, really fast,” said the
grimacing noble.  “I still think it is our best chance.”

“Very well,” said Kurt, remembering that the
man really wanted a confrontation, maybe not at the gate, but somewhere within
the city.  “Let’s do it.”

Minutes later a column of a hundred soldiers
was wending its way out of the hills on the road, a half dozen wagons moving in
the center.  As they approached the gate Kurt, Jackie, James, Fenris and Garios
stayed near the center of the formation, trying to look inconspicuous.  To Kurt
it seemed like they were trying to pull off a Monty Python routine, and he gave
it little chance of success.

The guards at the gate halted the group, and
Duke Haraald sat his horse and talked with the man.  Kurt couldn’t hear what
was being said, but the Duke became more agitated, and it was obvious he was
not winning his argument.  Kurt thought it must be because of the number of men
the Duke was trying to bring into the city.  He wasn’t sure he would have
allowed a hundred armed men into his city if he had been an unpopular ruler.

“He says we can bring in fifty,” said the Duke,
riding back, then waving the tail of the column away.  “The King will allow no
more.”

The guards started to wave them forward.  Kurt
felt like cringing as he passed the guards.  He could feel their eyes on him,
and even though he wore a helmet that covered most of his face, he was sure
they could tell he was different.

The wagons rolled through, the guards checking
half of them, but there were no outcries, so he was pretty sure the wolf had
not been found.  When the last of the men was through, the gate closed behind
them.

[I don’t like that] sent Kurt to his party
members.  [The gate was up when we approached, and it’s still morning.  So why
in the hell are they lowering it now?]

Nothing happened on the way through the town,
until they reached the center, where they were waved onto the road toward the
castle.  That had not really been the plan.  They had hoped to get lodging in
the town, and then try to make contact with the underground there, learning the
lay of the land and trying to figure out how to stage a successful coup.  It
seemed that their plan had been changed without their approval, and they were
going to be met at the castle whether they wanted to be or not.

It seemed that the further they rode into the
city, the more soldiers were apparent.  Some were hanging around on street
corners, or at the entrances to taverns that were yet to open.  Others were
mounted, and rode by as if on their way to someplace else.  But Kurt noticed
the same faces, and surmised that some of these men were riding around in
circles, making sure that a large number of mounted, armored troops were nearby
at all times.  He sent as much to his people, letting them know his suspicions.

[Perhaps we need to attack them,] sent Garios,
looking decided uncomfortable about the thought of fighting from horseback.

[I don’t think so, friend dwarf,] sent Kurt,
taking stock of their surroundings.  All of the high ground, in this case the
tops of the buildings, were under the control of the enemy.  [I’m beginning to
regret coming into this place at all.  But we must find a place to make a
stand.]

Kurt looked over at the Duke, who also had
strong mind speech.  [Duke Haraald.  I have  a bad feeling about this place.  I
think we are being led into a trap.]

[In that you are correct, my Lord Kurt,] sent
back the nobleman, looking straight ahead, giving no physical sign that he was
paying any attention to his guest.  [I was afraid of this, but thought it worth
a try to get close to the king, where we might be able to win the fight with a
single stroke.  Since that is not going to happen, I have signaled to our army
to look into attacking the gate.]

[Can they take it in time?]

[Of that I am not sure,] sent Haraald. 
[Perhaps your wolf can help.  Though I still wish we had someone of yours, or
the young lady’s, abilities to help take the gate.]

Kurt nodded, his eyes constantly on the move,
looking for a place they could hold until the army outside the gates could get
to them.  He ordered White Paw out of their wagon as they moved through a
crowded market area.  There were a few cries of alarm as the large animal ran
through the people out to market, before the wolf was into an alley and
disappearing from sight.  Kurt linked with the wolf, looking out through its
eyes, smiling as it ran down the alley, its vision taking in its surroundings
in the strange color pallet of the animal’s sight.

White Paw ran through the alley, taking a turn
and moving much faster than even the swiftest horse.  Cats howled and got out
of the way, distracted from their task of catching vermin. The vermin ran as
well, frightened by the sight of a predator they were not used to seeing. 
Stray dogs backed away with whimpers, or tried to bravely confront the wolf,
until a burst of psychic energy chased them away.

[There,] sent Kurt to everyone in the party
capable of telepathy, showing them the entrance to the alley that the wolf was
looking at.  There were soldiers in that alley, hidden in the shadows,
anxiously gripping their spears and crossbows.  The wolf was sampling the
thoughts of the telepaths among them, and reading their readiness to attack. 
[We’ll wheel into that alley and take out those soldiers, then hold it against
the rest of them.] 

The Duke looked thoughtful for a moment, as if
weighing the plan.  Finally he nodded yes, and sent out his own acceptance of
the plan, while the telepaths whispered to those not gifted as they what the
plan was.

“Now,” shouted Kurt in German, sending out the
same signal through his mind.  The riders opposite the alley mouth pulled their
horses hard by the reins and charged into the alley, while Kurt and Jackie rode
forward, blades swishing from their sheaths and aiming their mounts toward a
pair of the mounted warriors.

Ten of Haraald’s men were in the alley in an
instant, riding toward the King’s men with drawn blades.  Fenri followed them,
his bow strung, eyes searching the rooftops for archers.  As soon as he saw one
he pulled and released, and a screaming man fell from the two story building
with a shaft sticking from his chest.  A bolt came flying from the end of the
alley, then another, neither on target, and Kurt picked up the laughter of the
wolf as he sent images of terror into the minds of the crossbowmen.

Then he had no time for other thoughts as his
horse slammed into the chest of a lesser mount, and he had something more
immediate to take his attention.  The other horse went back, its hooves sliding
out from under it in its failed attempt to remain on its feet.  Horse and rider
crashed to the ground, and Kurt’s warhorse struck out with a front hoof that
connected with the head of the warrior.

Kurt brought his blade around to parry the long
sword of another warrior. 
Lenoris was not glowing with power in this battle against
mundane foes.  Still, it was a lighter than normal, sharper than seemingly
possible, two handed sword in the grip of a man stronger than any the Nordican
soldiers had ever before faced.  The sword batted aside that of the enemy
soldier, then reversed easily into a swing, propelled by Kurt’s massive
strength, to cut through the pauldron of the other man and knock him from his
horse with a gushing wound.  Kurt pulled the blade away and into a backhand
that took down another horseman.

Jackie’s blades did not need the catalyst of an
evil creature to work.  Her right hand sword, a katana, glowed with the red of
heat, while the left hand sword shone an icy blue of super cold.  She swung
both blades in perfect rhythm, taking two men from their horses.  One fell with
his skin on fire under the hole in his armor, the other with a look of fear on
his frozen face, which shattered as he hit the cobblestones of the street.

Crossbow bolts flew in, the Nordican soldiers
trying to down the two, to them, demons that were killing their close in
fighters with ease.  Jackie took two bolts out of the air with her swords,
moving in blurs of motion, one a streak of red, the other of blue.  One bolt
fell from the air melted in the center, the other shattered as it hit the
stones.  Two bolts flew at Kurt, bouncing from his tough enchanted armor in
showers of sparks.

Kurt rode hard toward the pair of crossbowmen
who had taken him under fire, his two handed sword pointed outward in one hand
like a spear.  It sliced through the studded leather of the bowman like thin
cloth, skewering the man.  Kurt raised the squirming, dying man into the air
and flung him from the sword, then swung the freed blade into the other
bowman’s neck, decapitating the man.  By the time he turned toward Jackie to
see how she was doing, she had killed both of the men foolish enough to shoot
at her.

[We need to get to where the rest of our people
are,] he sent her way, turning his head to see a wagon now set up to block the
entrance to the alley.  The mules that had been pulling it had been unhitched
and driven off, along with many of the Duke’s men’s horses.

[What about our horses,] sent Jackie as she
took another arrow out of the air, this one from a longbow.

[Jump over the wagon, and let the horse go,]
sent Kurt, pulling the reigns and kicking his mount into motion.  [Once you’re
away from the beast the enemy won’t target it, and it will run off.  If we win,
we can get them back later.]  He didn’t bother sending what would happen to the
horses if they lost, since it would not be their concern at that time.

Garios stood atop the wagon, his shield
covering himself as he swung his ax into the shield of a horseman who was
leaning over his saddle to engage the dwarf.  Kurt took the man’s head off just
before vaulting out of his saddle and onto the top of the wagon, almost losing
his balance on the tarp covered boxes and barrels.  He kept his footing, and
turning around to strike the head off a lance, then swung his blade to take the
right hand of the lancer off at the wrist.

Jackie landed beside him, keeping her footing
with perfect balance in a display of agility that made Kurt feel like a clumsy
buffoon.  She spun in place, taking another pair of arrows from the air, then
jumping backwards into the alley behind the wagon.  Garios caught another arrow
on his shield, while Kurt jumped down to the ground beside Jackie.

*     *     *

“We have mages coming,” shouted the Dwarven
Priest, looking nervously at the approaching men in robes.  The street was now
crowded with men in armor, bowmen in leather, swordsmen and spearmen in chain,
and full armored knights in plate and mail.  And pushing their way through them
were a half dozen men in robes, long staffs in their hands, murder in their
eyes.

Drake climbed up beside the priest, his own
staff in hand, his eyes flashing the red of fire. Fire was his element, his
power, his to do with as he pleased.  He straightened up and pointed the staff
at the other Mages, who were mumbling words and erecting shields against the
power of one they recognized as a master, despite his young age.

A gout of fire flew from the staff, striking
the barrier and splashing off like water.  Unlike water, it still contained
dangerous heat, and many of the soldiers not covered by the barrier shrieked
and beat at themselves as fire sprouted on their exposed clothing and scorched
their flesh.

James cried out, and the spout of flames grew
both wider and brighter.  Garios started the words of a protective spell, his
eyes wide as he watched the unbelievable power coming from their Mage.  The
flame went from red, to white to blue tinted in an instant, something that the
Dwarf, having been around wizards all of his life, had never seen anything like
it.  The Mages who were trying to deflect the fire were all at least of the
master level, and no Mage, no matter how powerful, should have been a match for
so many other wizards.  With scrunched up faces, they mumbled words and
continued pouring power into the only thing keeping them alive.