Judgment

CHAPTER 11

Several days after interrogating the Order guard, Braids and the assassin squad arrived in the foothills of the Pardic Mountains, about a day's march south of the Order troops the guard had been so forthcoming about during their conversation.

"We are close now, boys," said Braids from atop her latest dementia mount, a twelve-foot-long, five hundred-pound, pitch-black mountain lion.

"Very hard to track the barbarian here, mistress," hissed Leer. "The terrain is rocky and many barbarians traveled through here recently."

"Good, then we should have no trouble finding someone to question," said Braids, smiling. "Follow the most recent scent. Today we hunt barbarians."

Later in the afternoon, as the sun began to dip behind the tallest peaks of the mountains, the assassins crept up on a trio of mountain warriors who were sparring with one another on a rocky outcropping.

"Good luck, mistress," whispered Leer, after silently creeping back from the shrub where Nod, Barrel, Soot, and Grim still hid. "They bear the scent of Kamahl on them. These are the same barbarians he met outside Cabal City."

"How ironic," said Braids. "We could have simply followed them into the mountains, but that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun."

"Shall we save one for you, mistress?" asked Leer. Braids swept her hand into the dementia cloud above her head, grabbing some of the dark matter in her clenched fist.

"No," she said. "Too dangerous. If they fought with Kamahl, they won't be as easy to capture as that poor Order guard. Best to simply kill them first and ask our questions afterward."

As Leer crept back to the bushes, Braids brought her fist up to her mouth and blew a puff of air into the recesses of her clenched fingers. From out of the other end came a tiny black gnat that flew past Leer and settled on the top branch of the tallest shrub. Braids closed her eyes and concentrated on her summoned gnat until she could see the three mountain mages through its eyes.

Suddenly, Nod, Soot, and Grim jumped from the bushes into her view, landing just behind the three barbarians, who turned at the sound of the bushes moving. Nod slashed his massive claws at the first warrior, easily cutting through the mage's leather shirt and gouging out a chunk of flesh from his arm.

At the same time, Soot swiped his tail around at the barbarian in front of him, knocking the man to the ground while Grim grabbed his opponent by the shoulders, lifted him off the ground, and began pulling the mage toward his open jaws.

The third barbarian immediately thrust both hands against Grim's scaly chest to push away from the snakeman's poisoned fangs. As Grim pulled him ever closer despite the man's efforts, the mountain mage sent bolts of electricity out of both palms, blasting Grim to the ground and sending the barbarian flying back toward the edge of the outcropping.

The barbarian on the ground in front of Soot rolled to the side as the snake's tail slapped down where the man's head had been, shattering a rock and sending a cloud of dust up into the air. Grabbing an axe from his belt as he rolled, the warrior popped up to his knees and heaved the axe at Soot.

Soot slapped at the incoming missile with the back of his hand, sending it clattering to the rocky ground but slicing his hand on the axe head. He roared at the pain and dived on top of the kneeling mage, scraping his claws across the man's back and digging his fangs into the tough, leathery flesh of the Pardic warrior's neck.

Nod's opponent wasted no time readying his great sword in both hands and advancing on the rattlesnake assassin. He thrust high, right at Nod's head, which the snake dodged easily, ducking down and to the side while pulling his arm back for another slash. The barbarian immediately spun his body around, swinging the large blade around and down at the now off-balanced, crouching snake.

Unable to dodge the incoming blade, Nod dropped to the ground and rolled under his opponent's feet, knocking the man to the ground as his blade dug into Nod's shoulder. Continuing his roll until he lay on top of the barbarian's chest, Nod pulled his arm back and struck it into the man's midsection, digging his claws through the brassy skin to reach the mage's stomach, then curling them up under the rib cage toward the man's heart.

With his last bit of strength, the barbarian reached up and grabbed the sword, which lay on the snake's scaly back, still stuck in his shoulder. Twisting it in the wound to get a firm grasp, the warrior plunged it into the beast, shattering Nod's shoulder blade and ripping through the muscles in his upper arm.

Soot's opponent struggled to free himself from the beast's death grip before the snake could release the venom into his veins. The mage grabbed Soot's jaws with both hands and tried desperately to pry them apart. But the snake's jaws clamped down, and the mage's face went white as the venom entered his body.

With only seconds to live before the deadly poison reached his heart, the mage brought his arms together above his assailant, cupped his hands into a ball, infused them with mana, and dropped a small glob of molten fire onto the snake. As the fist-sized glob of fire struck Soot on the back, it erupted into a huge fireball that engulfed both the dying mage and the snake assassin.

Just outside the fiery conflagration, Grim glanced down at the twin scorch marks on his chest and then clambered to his feet and advanced on his opponent. On the other side of the fire, the last warrior had also regained his feet and bore two long daggers, one in each hand. The two opponents circled around each other cautiously, the barbarian waving his daggers in front of him and Grim swinging his large clawed hands back and forth as he moved in.

As Grim and the last mage danced around one another, looking for an opening, Leer stepped silently into Braids's view-right behind the Pardic warrior. Lashing out at him with his long, forked tongue, Leer struck the barbarian hard in the neck, thumping a pressure point that paralyzed the man for a moment. Leer moved in quickly, grabbed the mage by the head and shoulder, and broke his neck with a quick snap.

Looking at Orim's scorched chest, Soot's burned back, and the sword pinning Nod's arm, Leer shook his head, and said, "This is not good. Not good at all."

Breaking her gnat's eye spell, Braids sauntered up the hill to the battle scene to give her opinion. "There's a moral here for us, boys. We can't fight these warriors face to face. They are much too powerful. Leer and Barrel, tend to the boys' wounds while I talk to our dead barbarian friends. I'm sure they'll be willing to tell us where to find Kamahl."

Jeska barged into the meeting room of Auror's great hall to see Kamahl standing before a table encircled by a half-dozen barbarian warriors.

"Brother, we must talk," she said as she strode up to the table and pushed her way into the circle.

On the table was a roughly drawn map of the Pardic Mountains with a hundred hand-carved wooden warriors placed around the map to represent members of the two warring factions.

"Are these your little toy warriors, Lamar?" Jeska asked the barbarian standing next to her as she pointed at the figurines on the table. "I remember you playing with these as a boy. Haven't you outgrown such childish games."

"War is not child's play," stated Lamar, his face red.

"We are busy here, Sister," said Kamahl, saving Lamar from Jeska's wrath. "Can this wait until later?"

"No, it cannot. I'm afraid there won't be any later."

Jeska pointed to the two factions represented by Lamar's toy warriors on the map. "Talon's forces are camped at least a day away from Auror. Either you talk to me now, or I will disrupt this meeting until he attacks."

With Jeska's ultimatum hanging in the air, the siblings glared at each other for several tense seconds until Kamahl broke the silence.

"We will complete our battle plans this evening, men. We can do nothing more until Balthor brings back the latest scouting reports, anyway. Return once the moon rises. Until then, look after the warriors under your command. We must all be prepared for battle, both mentally and physically."

After his warriors left the hall, Kamahl turned back to his sister. "Never talk to me that way in front of my generals again," he said, crimson rising in his cheeks.

"Generals?" huffed Jeska. "Hah! They're nothing more than boys, most of them. And you are going to get them all killed in this foolish war of yours."

"Foolish am I," yelled Kamahl as he clenched his hands in frustration. "Is it foolish to try to unite the tribes? Is it foolish to work for a better life for my people? Is it foolish to prepare our people for the invasion that is surely coming?" Kamahl slammed his fist down onto the table, knocking over most of the toy warriors.

"It is when you begin your work by pitting our people against each other," countered Jeska. "How many must die before you realize the folly of this civil war, Brother?"

Jeska picked up one of the fallen toy warriors. "Must Talon die?" she said as she tossed the figure into the comer of the room.

She picked up another fallen warrior, this time from Auror village and threw it on top of Talon. "Must Lamar die?"

She continued scooping figures into her hands and flipping them across the room. "What about Joha, Thurmon, Brue? Must they die as well?"

Jeska picked up two more figures from the warriors surrounding Auror village and showed them to Kamahl.

"What about Balthor?" she said. "Must Balthor die to prove you are right? And what about me? What about me, Brother? Are you willing to sacrifice your own sister to extend your power throughout the mountains?"

"If that is what it takes," said Kamahl through clenched teeth as the last two figures clattered to the floor in the corner of the room. "The safety of the mountains is far too important to worry about the life of any single person. I am only thinking about the future. Surely you can see that, Jeska."

"I can see that you are thinking only about a future where you are hailed as the hero of the Pardic Mountains," said Jeska, coming around the table to face her brother. "Look at yourself,

Kamahl. This is not like you. You are so caught up in your own glory that you can't see how destructive your actions have become. If you aren't careful, you will destroy everything you are trying to build, just like Chainer did."

"Get out!" bellowed Kamahl in his sister's face. "You know nothing about Chainer. I am doing this as much for him as for the tribes. 1 must keep the Mirari safe. I made a death oath."

Jeska reached out and grasped her brother's clenched fists in her hands and held them tight. "I know you did, Brother, and I am trying to help you keep that oath. If you go through with this war, you will certainly destroy any chance you have of uniting the tribes and keeping the orb safe from that horrible mer mage."

Kamahl refused to look at his sister, instead glaring at something behind her, but Jeska pressed on. "Talk to Talon. Find a way to end this strife before it's too late. Even if you have to give him the Mirari, it will be safe in his hands. You know Talon. He is an honorable man and a good friend."

"Never!" shouted Kamahl, as he pushed his sister's hands away from him, shoving her so hard that she fell back onto the table, shattering it and sending the rest of the wooden warriors flying across the room.

Sprawled on the floor amid broken boards, Jeska peered up at Kamahl, trying to find her brother somewhere behind his wide, bloodshot eyes, but all she could see was the seething rage that now consumed him.

Pulling his sword slowly out of its scabbard on his back, Kamahl lowered the blade until it was mere inches from his sister's face.

"The Mirari is mine. The tribes are mine. Only I can lead our people to victory over Laquatas. If you do not stand with me, then you stand against me. Which will it be?"

Without flinching an inch, Jeska said, "I cannot stand with you this day, Brother."

"Then leave," he said, waving the sword at the door. "The next time we meet, we will be enemies."

Jeska stood up, dusted off her long, leather skirt, and deliberately turned her back on Kamahl and the sword before walking toward the door.

"If that is what it takes, Brother, then so be it," she said without looking back, slamming the door behind her.

Outside the meeting room, Jeska took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. What now? she asked herself. I need an ally. I need someone who's not afraid to stand up to Kamahl, someone Kamahl will listen to. I need to find Balthor.

News of the argument between Jeska and Kamahl spread quickly through the village, and by midafternoon none of the warriors in Auror would speak to Jeska. They stared at the ground as she passed or turned and walked away when she approached. Conversations stopped when she entered the ale hall, and she could feel everyone's eyes staring at her back and hear the whispers start up when she left.

Jeska didn't care what anyone thought. She was a Pardic warrior, more than a match in battle for any warrior in Kamahl's army, and used to being on her own. But the silence made it impossible for her to find Balthor, especially without calling attention to herself.

Kamahl had said that Balthor was returning today with new scouting reports, thought Jeska as she drank an ale by herself in the back of die hall. So he's either out scouting, or he's gone to die watchtower to wait for die scouts to return. Balthor's not that good at waiting, but I doubt Kamahl would risk him on a scouting party. I'll head to the watchtower first.

As Jeska left the ale hall, she barely noticed the warriors, Lamar among them, who were busy ignoring her while staring and whispering. She was too worried about her brother and what she would say to Balthor to care what boys thought of her anymore.

A half-mile past the edge of town, down a rocky path that hadn't been used in years, Jeska found Balthor atop the stone and wood village watchtower. Each village had similar structures, but most had fallen into disrepair as the barbarians had few enemies in the mountains. This one had been hastily patched and shored up.

"Balthor!" called Jeska as she approached. "May I speak with you?"

"Climb on up, girl," called Balthor. "I'm just waiting for the scouts to return, and I'm bored out of me skull. I could use a good argument."

Jeska clambered up the makeshift ladder that had been erected to replace the crumbling, stone stairs.

"I suppose ye want to talk about Kamahl and the Mirari," said Balthor when she reached the top.

"You heard?"

"Aye," said Balthor. "Kamahl was here earlier ranting about how ye had turned traitor."

"You know that's not true, Balthor," said Jeska, leaning against the stone crenellation opposite the dwarf.

"I know, girl. I know," said Balthor. "Your brother's not seeing everything too straight right now. Give him some time to cool down."

"That's just it, Balthor," replied Jeska. "It's like he's in a different world."

"Aye," said Balthor. He turned and peered over the wall to check for the scouts. "I keep telling meself that he'll come to his senses. I hoped that once the stress of the tournament was gone, he'd be back to his old self, but now we have this blasted war on the horizon."

"It's the Mirari," said Jeska. "We both know it."

"Aye, that we do. Do ye suppose it's controlling him?"

"I don't know," said Jeska. "I don't think so."

The top stone in the crenellation behind Jeska moved slightly, coming loose in its mortar, so the red-headed barbarian stepped away from the wall.

"Look, I went to see the dwarves during the tournament to find out what they might know about the orb."

"Ye did what?"

"I didn't tell you or Kamahl because I knew you'd both object," said Jeska, "But we need more information about this artifact."

Balthor raised his finger and opened his mouth but then stopped, dropped his hand to his side, and said, "What did ye find out?"

"They have no records of anything quite like the Mirari in their histories, but they have been tracking its course around Otaria," said Jeska, pacing the top of the watchtower. "Everywhere this orb goes, destruction follows. It possesses great power, but no one seems to be able to control it. The orb reportedly reflects the bearer's ultimate dreams and aspirations. I don't think the Mirari controls or corrupts so much as it amplifies the wielder's true nature to such an extreme that his dreams and desires get distorted, perverted."

"Aye, that pretty much describes what Kamahl's doing."

"Right," said Jeska. "Chainer was a dementia summoner with a strong sense of family. I could sense that when we talked to him after our battle. He tried to remake the Cabal to strengthen his family and ended up destroying it. Kirtar, the aven Order lieutenant, was, according to Kamahl, a cold-blooded warrior who longed for order in the world. He turned half the Citadel into solid crystal. Kamahl lives for battle and is obsessed with proving his skills to the world, and now he's brought the tribes to the brink of civil war over a challenge match."

"All right, ye convinced me," said Balthor. "What can we do, girl?"

"We must get the Mirari away from him," said Jeska, as she stopped pacing in front of the dwarf, "and then calm him down, so he'll talk peace with Talon. After that, I don't know. That accursed orb should be destroyed or at least buried in a deep hole. I say we take it to the dwarves, but I know how you feel about them."

"Nah, it's a sensible plan," said Balthor. "The clan's got no dreams beyond moving rocks. The orb should be plenty safe there. But how do we get the thing away from Kamahl? It's attached to his sword."

"We take it tonight while he's asleep."

"Steal it? That's not very honorable girl," commented Balthor.

"Would you rather try to take it by force?" asked Jeska. "Besides, according to the stories grandpapa used to tell, you weren't above a little larceny in your youth."

"That was a long time ago," said Balthor with a smirk. "All right, I'll sneak into Kamahl's room tonight and bring the Mirari back here for ye to take up to the clan."

"No. I should be the one," said Jeska. "Kamahl already doesn't trust me. If you get caught, we won't get a second chance. Besides, he'll kill you if he catches you. I, at least, have a chance against him in a battle."

"I may be getting old," said Balthor, "but I survived the great war against the phyrexians, and I can still handle meself against one slow barbarian carrying a big sword-a sword I forged for your grandpapa, if ye remember from the stories."

"Look, I don't want to argue about this," growled Jeska, as she pressed her hands against her head in frustration. "He's my brother and my responsibility. Besides, we barbarians are a bit faster than you give us credit for."

With that, Jeska grabbed her steel hairpins, pulled them from the bun atop her head, and whipped them down on either side of Balthor's face. Instantly, lightning crackled along the metal spines and arced from one hairpin to the other, right through the dwarf's ears. Jeska held the spell for a full ten seconds, remembering how grandpapa had told her that dwarves have very thick skulls.

Balthor dropped to the wood floor, twitching as residual electricity coursed through his body trying to find some place to ground.

"Sorry, Balthor," said Jeska. "You're going to have a horrible headache when you wake up, but you left me no choice."

Jeska leaned down to make sure Balthor was still alive and to make him as comfortable as she could atop the watchtower, but then heard a rustling in the brush below.

"Fiers's blood," hissed Jeska. "It must be the scouts."

Jeska stood up and peered down at the ground. She saw Lamar, crouched low, slinking back toward town.

"Damn!" growled Jeska. "He'll ruin everything."