Part 28 (2/2)
Gjerdrum and Derel tried to intercept the third a.s.sa.s.sin. Both failed.
Mist's eyes widened. Surprise, fear, horror plundered her beauty. The sword bit deeply....
Something like a shouted song parted her lips.
Thunder rolled across the blue sky.
Haaken, two a.s.sa.s.sins, Gjerdrum, and Prataxis stopped rolling across the hillside.
Ragnarson gave up trying to smash heads. Valther stumbled, flung headlong from the impetus of his charge toward his wife. The crowd stopped yelling.
For an instant Mist was enveloped by fire. Then the fire stepped away, leaving behind a feminine silhouette in thick fog. The fire wore Mist's shape.
The a.s.sa.s.sin screamed and screamed, thras.h.i.+ng like a broken-backed cat. The fire- thing was merciless. It grew brighter and brighter as its victim became a wrinkled, sunburned husk sprinkled with oozing sores.
Finally, it left him.
And turned to the man who had tried for Valther.
The crowd began withdrawing, threatening panic.
”Wait!” Ragnarson bellowed.”It'stheenemy ofourenemies. It won't harm anybody else.”
n.o.body believed him. Common folk didn't trust anything about sorcerers and sorcery.
The man who had attacked Haaken ran for it. He and his comrades had been pledged to die, but not like this.
The fire-thing caught him.
”You all right?” Bragi asked Haaken.
”In a minute. He kneed me.”Bragi examined the sword cut. Haaken would need new clothes, and his hauberk the attention of an armorer, but his only injury would be a bruise.
M ist's fire avatar finished the third a.s.sa.s.sin, floated up thirty feet, hovered.
Ragnarson again tried to calm the crowd. A few braver souls listened. The panic began dying.
The fire avatar drifted, hunting enemies.
”Mist,” Ragnarson growled, ”stop it. You might nail somebody we don't want to lose.”
The fire thing seemed interested in the Nordmen knights. With Nordmen, sedition was a way of thought.
It drifted to the shadow-Mist. They coalesced.
Ragnarson ordered the ceremonies resumed, joined Valther.
Mist was badly wounded, but didn't seem concerned. ”I'll heal myself,” she gasped.
”Won't be a scar.” She touched Valther's cheek. ”Thank you for trying,” she told Gjerdrum.
Then Ragnarson noticed Prataxis. He rushed to the man. What would he do without Derel's steady hand directing the everyday work of his offices?
But Prataxis wasn't dead. He had the same problem as Haaken.
Those who spoke after Achmed gave short speeches. Crowd noise settled to a buzz.
Then the Unborn made its public debut. It followed the road from Vorgreberg, floating twenty feet high. Beneath, three men marched with jerky steps, frequently stumbling.
The people didn't like what they saw.
Neither did Ragnarson.
The thing in the milky globe was a malformed fetus thrice normal birth-size, and it radiated something that drove people from its path. Its captives, strutting like the living dead, wore faces ripped by silent screams.
Straight to Ragnarson they came. Haaken's Guards interposed themselves. They had seen the Gosik of Aubuchon at Baxendala, had seen fell sorceries, but they were frightened. Yet they stood, as they had stood at Baxendala, while facing the terrible might of the Dread Empire.
”Easy,” Ragnarson said. ”It's on our side.”
Unhappy faces turned his way. Men muttered. It wasn't right to form alliances like this.
The automaton-men halted five paces away. Ragnarson saw no life in their eyes.
One's mouth moved. A sephulcral voice said, ”These are your enemies. Ask. They will answer.”
Ragnarson shuddered. This thing of Varthlokkur's.... Powerful. And terrifying.
The crowd began evaporating. Fiana had been popular, especially with the majority Wessons, but folks weren't going to bury her if it meant suffering a constant barrage of unpleasant surprises. All they wanted was to run their homes and shops and pretend, to hide from tomorrow.”What's your name?” Ragnarson demanded.
”Ain Hamaki.”
”Why are you here?”
”To slay our enemies.”
”Who sent you?”
No response. Ragnarson glanced at the Unborn.
Another captive replied, ”He doesn't know. None do. Their leader brought them from Throyes.”
”Find the leader.”
”He lies behind you.”
Ragnarson glanced at the withered bodies.
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