A Wizard and a Warlord

4

Gar stepped back, knocking the spear aside with one end of his staff, then swinging the other to clout the man on the side of the head. Teak gave a shout of surprise and pain and sank to his knees.

The other bodyguards bellowed and leaped in. Gar fell. The three rushing behind him tripped over his body—pain ripped where they kicked—and fell into the three charging from the front.

The two at either side stepped in, jabbing downward with their spears and yelling in anger.

Gar swung his staff, knocking one’s feet out from under him, then rolled to avoid the other three spears. One jabbed between his ankles, the other two behind him. He shoved himself up just as the fourth man fell on him, knocking him back into the earth; his spear point tore Gar’s sleeve and pain flared in his arm. Gar swung a hard punch to the short ribs and the man’s mouth gaped, eyes bulging, the wind knocked out of him. Gar shoved him aside and sprang to his feet.

But the six at front and back had sorted themselves out and turned on him. He backed away, staff whirling like a windmill. At least he had all of them in front of him now. They followed, wary and watchful.

General Malachi watched too, grinning, eyes bright, enjoying the show.

Two bodyguards stepped in, jabbing with their spears. Gar struck one with the full momentum of the whirling staff; it cracked across the spear shaft and the bodyguard howled with pain as it leaped out of his hands. With the rebound, Gar struck the other spear down. Its owner too bellowed with pain as the shaft kicked him in the ribs.

But they had bought time for the eight remaining to form a semicircle around Gar, backing him toward the trees, grins gone and eyes grim. There would be no more surprises; they were braced for a real fight. Gar retreated, staff still whirling as a shield between them and him, but felt his stomach sinking; six he might have managed, but nine?

Then he heard a voice call, “Lay off him!”

One man frowned and looked back at Malachi, calling, “What did you say, sir?”

“Me? Nothing!” Malachi scowled, surprised.

But the man had heard what Gar had. He hadn’t known, though, that the voice was inside his head. “Finish him off, Calaw!” Malachi shouted.

But another man turned to Calaw. “We should do what?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Calaw protested. “Stab him!” Malachi howled.

Two more men looked up in surprise at something they alone heard. Gar seized the moment and their spears—with his mind. The weapons twisted in their hands and thrust sideways at the five men who did step forward. They shouted in shock and anger and leaped away. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing, fools?”

“We didn’t,” one of the men protested. “They just moved! ”

Gar took two giant steps backward and felt leaves brush his back and sides, then close in front of him. “Catch him! He’s away!” shouted one of the other bodyguards and suited the action to the word.

With the baying of a hunting pack, the others leaped to follow.

A staff thrust out of the underbrush; two men tripped over it. It pulled back, then struck down to brain both. Three more, not seeing, charged toward Gar, thrusting, bumping into each other as they twisted to avoid tree trunks, then thrusting again. Gar sidestepped, caught one by the collar, and threw him into the other two.

Two more came plodding warily but quickly. The stranger’s staff struck from behind and they fell.

For a moment, the way was clear as the conscious tried to sort themselves out and climb to their feet. “Now!” Gar shouted, and turned to run zigzag between the trees. In two steps, Alea was at his side, glancing back with every step.

“Just listen to their thoughts,” Gar told her. “Then you can spare your eyes for the road ahead!”

She matched him in twisting between trunks. The shouts behind them grew more distant. Soon only one pair of footsteps was crunching through the brush behind them.

Alea hurdled a log, then realized she was alone. She turned back in alarm, staff up to guard, and was just in time to see the lone bodyguard leap the fallen tree and tangle his legs on a staff that thrust up from behind the log as he landed. The man fell heavily and Alea didn’t need a suggestion—she stepped in and brained him with her own staff.

“Nicely done,” Gar said as he climbed to his feet, “and thanks for the help. Now let’s run!”

When they reached the bottom of the hill, they slowed to alternate jogging with running.

“Why … isn’t … anybody … following?” Alea asked.

“Read … them,” Gar panted in answer.

Alea frowned, listening for thoughts as she ran. She heard satisfaction that the soldiers had chased away the intruder, along with chagrin that he had escaped—but overall, fear of the unknown that made them seek excuses not to follow Gar. Staves had, after all, twisted in hands, other staves had swung from hiding, and there was no way of telling how many companions Gar had with him. Worse, voices had called from nowhere. Not even Teak was overly eager to follow, so long as the suspect giant had been chased away.

“Nicely done, that,” Gar said. “I didn’t know you could project thoughts into other people’s minds yet.”

“Neither did I,” Alea confessed, “but I had to try something! ”

“Pretty good for a first try,” Gar said dryly. “How did you imitate the different voices?”

Alea looked very confused. “I didn’t.”

“They filled that part in for themselves, then.” Gar nodded. “Heard what they expected to hear. Well, part of it may have been luck, but it was still well and cleverly done—very well. Thanks for the rescue.”

Alea glowed at the praise and scolded herself for letting it make any difference to her. She floundered for a minute, wondering how to respond, then realized that simplest was best. “You’re welcome.” Then, with sudden chagrin at her interference, “What would you have done if I hadn’t?”

“I hadn’t quite figured that part out yet,” Gar admitted.

Alea’s spirits soared again, the aftermath of battle making her heady.

“What’s General Malachi thinking?” Gar asked. Alea bit back the retort that he could listen for himself. Of course he could, and probably was doing so even now—but he wanted her to practice. She concentrated on the welter of thoughts in the camp and picked out the flaring anger of the self-proclaimed general. Her eyes darkened with apprehension. “He’s livid with rage,” she said, “and giving orders for patrols to go out hunting us.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Gar said. “Patrols will stick to the roads. No one is eager to come into the woods to chase us, and even if they did, their horses would slow them down; there are a lot of low branches here.”

“But you’re a marked man now. I hope you discovered a great deal in that camp, because we’re surely not going to learn anything more after this!”

“I learned quite a bit, actually,” Gar said thoughtfully, “mostly that there doesn’t seem to be any government strong enough to keep this bandit captain from doing whatever he wants—except perhaps the Scarlet Company.”

“Yes, I eavesdropped on your mind and heard them saying that.” Alea frowned. “What is this ‘Scarlet Company’?”

“Not a government, that’s certain.” Gar made a wry face. “I peeked in Malachi’s mind, of course—he was enough of a bully that it seemed a good idea—but that didn’t tell me anything more; all I had was a confused impression of blood and violence, and massive frustration that they stood in his way at all.”

“How do they interfere, though?”

Gar shrugged. “By killing him, I guess—they’ve tried three times already. Since Malachi thinks bodyguards are the answer to the threat they pose, my guess is that this Scarlet Company is a band of assassins. I’ve heard of such things before—criminal organizations that kill people for hire. If Malachi has conquered half a dozen rival bands and three villages, I’m sure people are willing to spend their last penny to stop him.”

“But you just said there wasn’t any government strong enough to stop Malachi,” Alea protested. “Why don’t the governments just hire the Scarlet Company?”

Gar sat very still for a minute. Then he said, “You’re right, of course. That’s what they’ve done.” He was silent another minute. “But that’s just a guess. We’ll have to go into one of the bigger towns, where the government must be, and make sure.”

Alea frowned. “I thought this mission was over.”

“Why should you think that?”

“Well…”Alea floundered, surprised that he didn’t see the obvious. “They’re hunting you now. How can we walk the roads if we have to keep hiding?”

“I’ll travel in disguise, of course.”

“Disguise! All seven feet of you? How will you disguise that?”

“By stooping,” Gar said. “You’d be surprised how quickly I can age. I could be an old man of any kind; an ancient peddler with a heavy pack would have plenty of reason to stoop. Or I might be your crazy half-witted brother, cringing and fearful of everything about me—I’ve done that before, several times, and it’s worked well. I don’t think any of these troops will have the wit to guess how tall I would be if I stood straight. They’re looking for a fighter, not a beggar.”

“Well, it might work,” Alea said doubtfully.

“I think we’d better make a few more miles through the woods before we try the roads again,” Gar suggested. “And keep an open mind—open to hear other people’s thoughts, that is. The patrols might try the forest, after all.”

Alea hid a shudder as she stood. “They should be easy to lose in these trees.” But she had memories of sleeping in branches and didn’t want to repeat the experience.

A few hours later, she led Gar to their packs; she had hidden both when she went after him. Burdened again, they strode through the woods as quietly as possible.

As the forest darkened around them, Gar marveled that Alea’s sullenness and anger seemed to have vanished with the landing. Perhaps it had just been cabin fever, after all.

On the other hand, there hadn’t exactly been a great deal of time for an argument—and if she’d wanted a fight, she’d had a chance for a real one. He decided there was a great deal to be said for having common enemies.

They slept in the forest that night, and it was a cold camp with only a small and nearly smokeless fire. “I’ll take first watch,” Gar offered.

“Why?” Alea demanded. “Because you don’t think I can stay awake?”

Gar blinked in surprise. “Of course not. It’s only that you’re looking terribly tired.”

“You’re not looking terribly fresh yourself.” It wasn’t true, but he was probably feeling worn. “I suppose you think that I have to rest because I’m a weak woman.”

“Scarcely weak, but very much a woman.” Again, that brief flash of admiration that so irritated her. “Still, you should have the right to rest if you wish it.”

“Oh, really? So that you can sit up and feel virtuous?”

“More to the point,” Gar said, “so that I can meditate for a while. I couldn’t sleep, not yet. Too much has happened in one day.”

“Don’t you think I need some time to let the day’s events sort themselves out?” Alea retorted.

Gar nodded slowly. “Then take it.”

“Oh, so now I’m to sit up while you take your ease, am I? Shall I serve you breakfast, too?”

“Only if you take the second watch.”

“So that’s it! You want to wake up and find your food hot and ready, so you’ll make me wake up in the middle of the night and start cooking!”

“Why don’t we make it three watches tonight?” Gar sighed. “I’ll take the first and the third, so I’ll cook breakfast.”

“So you can feel injured and nurture your resentment all night long? Not a chance! I’ll take the first and the third!”

“Done,” Gar said, “if they’re each three hours long.”

“And let you sleep six hours without an interruption? Just how selfish are you?”

“Incredibly,” Gar said gravely, “selfish enough to want the first watch and the third so I can feel like a martyr.”

“Well, it won’t work!” Alea snapped. “I’ll be the martyr, thank you! You can sleep and dream of me forcing myself to stay awake, pinching myself and holding my eyelids open!”

“You win.” Gar sighed. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“Well, I should think you would!” Alea turned away, lay down, pulled up her blanket, and glared at Gar’s back where he sat by the fire—legs crossed, back straight, hands on his knees, already meditating as he had said—and wondered why she felt as though she had lost.

Gar woke Alea in the middle of the night for her watch. She felt as though she were clawing her way up off a sheet covered with glue, but she fought off the yearning for the bed and pulled herself to her feet, then settled on a log by the fire.

Once she had moved that much, though, energy started to flow, and she didn’t feel anywhere nearly as tired as she’d expected. Anger coiled; she suspected Gar had kept watch for the full six hours after all, letting her sleep—but she couldn’t see the sky, so there was no way to tell time by the stars.

Alea eyed Gar covertly as he settled himself under his blanket and closed his eyes. When his breathing deepened in the slow rhythm of sleep, she turned to watch him openly. The man was an enigma to her, a puzzle that she despaired of solving. Her most spritely conversation, her tempers, her arguments, their verbal jousting—nothing could crack his shell, make him seem to care or to reveal anything about himself. Was she so ugly as to repel him, make him want to present only the blank public face he showed the rest of the world? If so, though, why had he invited her to come with him?

And why, in Loki’s name, did he give her that admiring gaze now and then if he didn’t want to do anything about it?

She sighed and turned away to scan the woods to the one side of the road, then the fields to the other. All other men were quite easy to understand—they wanted something, and you either gave it to them and let them go their way, or refused and endured their tempers or even, sometimes, their blows. Of course, since she’d met Gar, she’d learned to give as good as she got if a man tried to strike her—but that was another riddle about Gar: why would he teach her to fight when he knew it gave him that much less power over her?

Her gaze lingered on his sleeping form again; she forced it back to the woods. Of course, Gar was still far more skilled at fighting than she was, and much stronger—not that the last mattered; he had shown her how to use a man’s strength and size against him. Still, he couldn’t think of her as much of a threat.

Or much of a woman? If he had taught her men’s skills, how feminine could he think her to be?

She absently noted the movement among the trees—an owl launching itself from a branch and skimming away to the fields, where it plunged. She looked out over the furrows, frowning and pondering. Apparently Gar didn’t see her as being either feminine or a threat—so if he were to see her as a woman, would he feel a threat from something other than the blows of her staff? Certainly boys verging on manhood seemed to be afraid of the very femininity they desired. Was Gar still a boy in that sense?

She realized that her thoughts had begun to go in circles and gave up the puzzle with a sigh, turning back to scan the fields again, then the road and the woods—but the problem would not leave her alone, it kept nibbling at her mind…

Then she saw the monster and the sight of it made her forget everything but its own grinning presence.