Marked for Death

Chapter 14

Kandler got to his knees, the changeling still in his grasp. For a long moment, he considered killing the creature then and there. If he was quick enough about it, she might be dead before she could even think about Esprл. It was impossible from this angle though. He could choke the changeling to death, but it would take too long. He loosed his hold and shoved the creature to the ground.

The changeling dusted herself off as she made her way to her knees. She winced at her cracked ribs and turned to look up at Kandler. The creature’s face looked like a moon in the dim light spilling out of the house, soft and distant, yet still strongly feminine. The scratches and cuts on her rounded cheeks and on her thin slash of a mouth disappeared as Kandler watched. Her blank, white eyes seemed to glow softly in the darkness. She spoke as she started to her feet.

“Now let’s see who’s in charge he-”

Before the changeling could finish, Kandler lashed out with his boot and caught her across the jaw. The blow stunned her, he saw, but it did not put her out. She reeled backward. Desperate to save Esprл, Kandler pressed his advantage, never giving her a moment’s respite. He brutalized her with foot and fist, beating her until she stopped resisting, until she stopped moving.

Kandler grabbed the psion by the front of her tunic and hauled her toward the beam of light stabbing from his home’s front door. Pinkish blood dribbled from her battered face. Her breathing was shallow but steady. He tossed her aside, picked up his sword, and dashed back into town.

With any luck at all, Kandler figured he would reach Esprл before the changeling regained her senses. He considered killing her there and then, but he feared he might need her later. Also, he didn’t know if he could bring himself to kill her in cold blood. Taking a life in the heat of battle was one thing. Executing a helpless foe was something else altogether.

As Kandler sprinted toward the town square, he heard clashing swords and screams of terror and triumph up ahead. Someone had tossed more kindling on Shawda’s still-smoldering funeral pyre in the main square, and the flickering light reflected off the low-hanging tendrils from the Mournland that were always reaching out over the Mardakine crater.

The justicar turned a corner, and battle lay before him. Men and women of Mardakine fought toe to toe with more of the tall, dusty figures dressed in ill-fitting armor forged in the fires of Karrnath. Their bones rattled as loudly as their swords as they clashed with the desperate townspeople.

“For Cyre!” Rislinto thundered, silhouetted against the flames. One of the strongest men Kandler had ever known, the warrior-turned-blacksmith bore a dwarven warhammer instead of a blade, his long years at the forge having made his skill with such a tool a second nature to him.

As Kandler ran to Rislinto’s aid, the blacksmith’s warhammer fell again and again, crushing undead flesh and snapping bones. “We lost one home!” the bearlike man thundered. “We won’t lose another!”

At these words, a cheer went up from the townsfolk in the square, and they redoubled their efforts. As Kandler sprinted toward the action, he saw a pale, black-cloaked figure coalesce from a cloud of reddish mist hanging over Rislinto’s broad shoulders. The justicar shouted a warning, but he knew it was too late. The blacksmith was too far away to hear him, and Kandler knew he’d never reach his old friend in time.

Kandler and Burch had scouted out this crater with Rislinto and Mardak back when the two sons of Cyre had first come up with the idea of establishing a settlement on the edge of the Mournland. The four had founded the town together, and now it was all falling apart. All Kandler could do was watch his friend die.

The telltale clack of Burch’s crossbow sounded out, and the vampire behind Rislinto fell over with a wooden bolt in its heart. Kandler looked about for the shifter on the nearby rooftops as he sprinted toward the square, but Burch had already moved on.

As Kandler neared the square, he angled to the right, his eyes hunting for other black-clad creatures and for Esprл’s shimmering golden hair. On the other side of the bonfire, he saw the flaming swords of the Knights of the Silver Flame swinging in the darkness, the light reflecting off their polished armor.

Right before the justicar, Priscinta and Pradak-mother and son-fought back to back, the Karrn zombies closing in on all sides. For a moment, Kandler wondered where Mardak might be, but he pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter. The important thing was that Priscinta and Pradak were outnumbered two to one. They would be dead in moments without help.

The justicar cursed. He needed to find Esprл before the changeling woke up, but he could not bring himself to abandon others so clearly in need. He charged into the relentless creatures from the rear, slashing all about with his sword.

Kandler’s blade clanged ineffectively off the Karrn armor, but it just as often bit into rotted flesh and dried bone. The justicar hacked back and forth, spinning wildly as he went. He had to kill these creatures quickly, or Esprл would be doomed.

As Kandler cursed the vampires, the zombies, and the knights who he guessed might have brought them there, he glanced over and saw Pradak stumble before one of the undead Karrn warriors.

Pradak had been but a boy during the last days of the war, just four years past. Although he bore the promise of his father’s legendary skill with a longsword, he lacked the hard-won experience earned only on the field of battle. Having laid one zombie low, he had stepped forward to press his advantage and slipped on his victim’s corpse.

Kandler had seen many a young warrior make this same mistake. Few of them had lived to repeat it. War had no mercy, no matter how young the warrior.

The zombie standing over Pradak rasped a horrible laugh and raised its jagged blade high in both hands, its tip pointed toward the young man’s chest. As the creature jammed the blade down to impale Pradak on its steely length, Priscinta dove at the zombie, bowling it backward. The two rolled away in a ball of thrashing arms and slashing steel.

Kandler ran over to Pradak and hauled the young man to his feet with his free hand. “You’re a lucky boy,” he said.

Pradak hefted his sword once again and began to offer his thanks. Before he could speak, the zombie battling Priscinta ran her through. The woman’s gurgling cry ended with a snap as the Karrn bashed her with its free hand, and she fell to the ground.

Kandler reached out to try to stop Pradak from throwing himself into a suicidal attack to avenge his mother, but it was already too late. Mad with grief, Pradak launched himself toward his mother’s killer.

What Pradak lacked in skill he made up for in rage. The youth lunged at the zombie standing over Priscinta, still gloating over its victory. Kandler watched as Pradak leveled a two-handed slash at the creature’s neck, and an instant later its head spiraled away. Before the young man could enjoy his victory, another of the undead warriors laid into him.

Kandler stepped up beside the youth and lent his sword to his efforts. “Deothen!” he shouted. “We need a healer here!”

The senior knight did not respond. Kandler glanced over, and he saw one of the black-robed creatures turn to dust before Deothen’s righteous wrath. The wind caught the dust and blew it into the fire where it formed an ascending spiral of glowing embers reaching into the night sky.

Deothen spat a single word at Sallah, who was standing next to him as the vampire vanished. While the senior knight directed the efforts of the others against the Karrn, she turned and ran over to Kandler. “Are you hurt?” she called as she ran, panting with the work of battle.

Kandler parried a blow from one of the undead Karrns and wrenched open its breastplate with his sword. The zombie screeched in surprise, but the justicar cut that short with a slash across the creature’s exposed lungs. Two more quick moves, and the creature lay in a heap of bones and old, rotten meat at Kandler’s feet, just as Sallah reached his side.

“Not us.” Kandler pointed to the body lying at Pradak’s feet. The boy stood staring wide-eyed out into the darkness, waiting for something else to come careening out at them. For the moment, the Karrns were elsewhere, but Kandler could hear the telltale sound of the shuffling gait of the undead circling out in the darkness.

“Priscinta,” Sallah said.

The justicar scanned the darkness with one eye. With the other, he watched as the red-haired knight knelt beside Priscinta and checked her for signs of life.

“May the Silver Flame shine brightly on your final journey,” Sallah said softly as she closed Priscinta’s eyes. Pradak bent his head over her and wept.

Kandler bowed his head for a moment to fight back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. There would be time for grieving later. Right now, he had to find Esprл.