The summers on the coast stay relatively cool with a constant breeze, and when the weather was so beautiful, Cor took to simply walking outside to think on many occasions. He wasn’t sure what else he could do at Sanctum. Though he kept an eye on Cor, Rael clearly had nothing more to teach him, and it was only a matter of time before Rael would have to let him to pursue his own path. Though Cor wasn’t sure what that would be.
He enjoyed the beach on many levels, and as he thought about it, he realized it was oddly paradoxical. He found it calming, soothing, and yet the waves and wind could impact with such terrific force. It was cool and breezy, but the sand often threatened to burn one’s feet after midday. Cor would sometimes wade into the sea, sometimes even up to his waist, and sometimes he would idly wonder why that with having spent so much time at sea he had never learned to swim.
It was the appointed day to purchase their supplies from Cade, and Cor and Rael left shortly after lunch as they had the last time. There had been no events since the last time, and Rael agreed they were safer together as a rule. The day had warmed a bit more this afternoon than usual, and it really was quite hot. Cade met them in front of his farmhouse as he did last time, taking their hands warmly.
“Rael, some men have come for you,” he said quietly, never ceasing to smile. “They’re from Byrverus, and they say you’re a criminal. They’re waiting around back for you, and there’s a priest in the house watching us. It’s strange having a priest lie to me.”
“Cade, you have been a good friend to us,” Rael said, taking the big man’s grasp again. “I never wished to bring anything upon you such as this. We will leave now, as fast as this horse can take us.”
Rael whipped the reigns, spurring the horse into action to turn the wagon about for the road, and Cade stepped back a few paces to keep out of the way. A shout went up from behind the house, and Cor looked back to see a number of armed and armored men charge from the house, barn and nearby animal pens. Realizing their quarry was escaping, they turned back to mount horses hidden in the barn. Cor uncovered their swords as Rael drove the horse and wagon up the road wildly.
“Rael, we can’t get away from them,” Cor shouted over the din of the rickety wagon. “The wagon will fall apart, and it’s too slow.”
“I know!” Rael shouted back. “The road dips into a small gully after one of these hills. When we are out of sight, we will hide on the side of the road and ambush them.”
When they topped the hill, Cor looked back and saw the riders approaching. Rael took them by surprise, no small thanks to Cade. His reckless driving earned them some distance, but that advantage faded fast. Rael headed down the hill and pulled the horse to a sudden stop at the bottom. He and Cor jumped out of the wagon, Cor tossing Rael his sword. Rael pointed Cor to a thick clump of bushes on one side of the road, as he himself hid behind a thick, moss covered oak on the other side.
The riders thundered over the hill, nearly ending themselves in a disheveled heap as they came to a halt. The wagon sat at the bottom of the hill, the horse idly beginning to wander. The men slowly approached the wagon, giving Cor a clear look at them. They were clad in brilliant scale mail for the most part, with plate greaves and sabatons. Some wore plate helms, while others preferred the freedom of chain mail cowls, and every one of them carried the royal crest of Aquis.
“We must find them!” came a voice from the top of the hill, and Cor looked up to see an old man he recognized, the priest Jonn. The sight of a familiar face flooded him with emotions, relief and sadness especially, but then also resentment. This man had the audacity to teach him the rightness of Garod, no doubt knowing all the while what he was, and the thought caused Cor’s temper to suddenly flare.
The soldiers dismounted to make a more thorough search of the immediate area. The two refugees were on foot, so they certainly could not have gotten far in the brief moments they were out of sight. Cor stayed as low to the ground as he could, gripping his sword in one hand and his pestle fetish in the other. He wasn’t sure what would happen, but he intended to follow Rael’s lead.
In fact, one soldier with some degree of skill in reading tracks, headed directly for the tree behind which Rael hid. He was looking at the tracks as he walked and stopped when he reached the edge of the road. The man looked up suddenly to see Rael standing directly in front of him. The soldier, a professional to be sure, reached for his sword without hesitation. He opened his mouth to shout to his comrades, only to have Rael plant the blade of his sword directly into it. The blade burst through the back of the man’s skull, but the sword’s point did not pierce his chain mail cowl and instead pushed it off the back of the man’s head to hang suspended in mid air.
Rael yanked his sword free, jumped over the body as it fell and cleaved into the unarmored neck of another soldier who had not even turned around. Cor stood and watched from his hiding place as the other soldiers shook off their surprise and converged on his mentor. Naran had told him to be a man of action, to be the first to strike, but these men were Westerners and soldiers of the Queen Herself. And behind them, dismounting from his horse, was a priest Cor had known for years as a child. He froze.
Rael had taken off the sword arm and a leg of a third soldier, but was on the verge of being overwhelmed as the others moved in on him. Jonn dismounted and was moving, a staff in hand, toward the melee shouting for everyone to cease combat and lay down their weapons. Rael had no intention of coming peacefully to be certain, and the soldiers were trained to defend themselves from any threat.
Rael’s blade bit into the groove under a soldier’s arm, lifting his forearm to block the soldier’s blow with his shield. It was the reflex action of a trained warrior, and Rael realized too late that his shield was back in Sanctum with the rest of his armor. The soldiers sword impacted Rael’s forearm; if it hadn’t been for his own blow, the soldier may have had enough force to take Rael’s arm clean off. As it was, the sword batted his arm downward, hacking deeply into the flesh; bones cracked.
It was then Cor realized Rael shouted his name, calling for assistance. Rael had retreated with his wounded arm back to his tree, buying himself a few moments as the other soldiers moved in on him. They came slowly, not willing to lose more of their number with a headstrong rush, and Jonn was bent over the one of the soldiers, his eyes closed.
Rael was the killer of his parents’ murderer. He had helped Cor, shown him how to readily use his strength and taught Cor the real history of the West. Cor had already decided to not let the past, the West’s or the Dahken’s, shape his future, but right now his friend needed help. The fog of indecision cleared.
Cor leapt over the bushes, charging into the soldiers from behind on their right flank. One soldier had opted for a steel breastplate as opposed to scale mail, and this gave him superior protection in front, but left him soft leather in back. A thrust deep into the middle of his back, severing the spine was Cor’s first strike. He pulled the blade from the man’s back and immediately thrust across his body to the left, sliding his sword between the buckles of another man’s scale mail hauberk. The soldiers reeled momentarily at this new attack, leaving Rael to take advantage of the confusion.
Cor felt himself struck on the right, but he was in motion away from the attack when the blow landed, so it was only a slashing wound across his ribs. The wound seared with pain, his cheeks flushed, and his fetish warmed in his left hand. He wheeled to his right, swinging his sword before him. The force of his blow knocked his attacker backwards, the blade rending scale mail through shear force alone. Cor recovered quickly and thrust the weapon into the man’s body, punching it right through his armor. As he reaved and slew, Cor felt strength he never imagined. His blade tore through armor and shield as easily as flesh and bone and forced his enemies back with horrific force.
Rael had fought free of the soldiers, his arm completely healed, but other wounds bleeding. He saw the priest a few short yards away leaning over one of
the fallen soldiers, and the man’s wounds were closing, his eyelids beginning to flutter.
“Cor, the priest heals the wounded! We must kill him!” Rael shouted.
Rael charged, and seeing the oncoming Dahken, Jonn broke off from healing the soldier, who was attempting to stand. He picked up his staff as he backed away, but Rael came on fast, simply charging through the rising soldier like a mad bull. He prepared to strike the priest, who suddenly planted his staff into the ground in front of him with both hands. A wall of power struck Rael with a great flash, snapping his head backwards and causing him to careen through the air and into the great oak he had hidden behind only a few minutes earlier. He crumpled to the ground limply.
Cor saw this and nearly bolted to Rael’s side, but there were yet two more men in front of him and then the priest, Jonn. Cor feinted to the right, and one of the soldiers fell for the maneuver, shooting out his sword to attack Cor, who of course was no longer there. Cor whirled and brought his own blade right into the side of the man’s head. The blade connected with the soldier’s plate basinet, caving it in to a degree that no man could survive, but the sword broke with the terrific impact, over a foot of its length breaking off to fall and stick into the ground point first.
The second soldier took the opportunity and skewered Cor right below the ribs on his left side. The sensation was extraordinary as the cold steel pierced Cor’s body, sliding through his organs, and Cor felt the blade come out his back. He was vaguely aware of Jonn screaming something, and the priest stood transfixed by the scene over fifteen feet away as the soldier slowly pulled the length of his sword from Cor’s body. Cor stood staring at the soldier for a moment and felt as if he may collapse. He never could ascertain what drove him or where he found the strength for what next happened. His body poured blood from the mortal wound, and everything inside his gut felt torn asunder. The soldier lowered his sword briefly, realizing he had slain his foe, a young man or boy little older than his own son, and Cor struck with the lightning quickness of a snake. He brought his broken blade around and beheaded the soldier. The body fell rigid, a great shock of blood soaking the road, the face on the severed head registering unabashed surprise. Cor fell to his knees, exhausted, but he could feel the wound closing, arteries, veins and organs mending as the soldier’s body bled itself out.
“Let this nonsense be over Cor,” said Jonn. He still had not moved from the spot from which he had thrown Rael, though the staff was back in his left hand. Cor looked over at Rael’s limp form, and he could not tell if the man was breathing.
“You tried to kill me,” Cor said, locking eyes with the priest.
“The Dahken attacked us first. He is a criminal who abducted you from your family. Come with me Cor; come back to Garod, as your father would will it. Queen Erella has every desire to meet you.”
“You know nothing of what my father would have willed. I’ve my own path, and it isn’t with you,” he sneered. Cor stood to his feet. His wound was completely healed, and his strength returned. He walked casually toward the priest, his broken sword in hand.
“Cor, I have known you since you were a boy. I do not want to hurt you. Consider your actions now,” implored Jonn. “Who talked to you as a boy when village children would not? Who helped you learn right from wrong? Come. Be the smart, sweet boy I remember.”
“You also spied on me for your Queen. I can see that now,” Cor retorted. He had stopped.
“Keeping you safe was one of my duties,” Jonn appeared to concede.
“Safe? This Dahken,” Cor said, pointing his sword at Rael’s crumpled form, “kept me safe. Captain Naran, a Shet, kept me safe. Your people killed my only friend!”
Cor again approached, having closed half the distance between them, and Jonn realized Cor was not going to consider anything he said. He called to Garod for strength and pointing his staff at the oncoming Cor, a ray of pure white light shot from its tip. It hit Cor fully in the chest, causing him to stop and look with awe. The ray pierced him, and he could even feel it pass through him. It was warm, and it did nothing.
Cor laughed as he approached, faster now with confidence. The priest gripped his staff with both hands and waited until Cor was mere feet away. Jonn planted his staff before Cor in the same way he had Rael, and the same flash of light burst forth, this time with a sound as of thunder. And Cor still stood in front of the priest, unmoved, broken sword in hand. Cor reared backward, then thrust his broken blade forward. It tore through the priest’s robes, met his body and pushed through it. The blade bisected the priest’s heart almost perfectly, blood spurting behind and before him onto Cor’s hand. Jonn’s life poured from him, and he died quickly asking Garod why he had been forsaken.