The Tainted Sword

Chapter VIII

Flinn looked down from his vantage point on a small crest overlooking the road to Bywater. The little town was less than an hour’s easy ride away. Although the barren forests still obscured his view, Flinn saw smoke trickle into the air from where Bywater was situated. The cloud looked blacker and more pervasive than the smoke of chimneys. Flinn looked up uneasily at the ravens circling overhead. Their ominous croaks in the winter air grew louder as Flinn, Jo, and Dayin approached the small town. The presence of the birds boded ill. Flinn spurred on Ariac, followed by Johauna on Brisbois’ horse and Dayin on Fernlover. Both the young woman and the boy had noticed the same omens as Flinn, and all three were grimly quiet as they traveled the road.

As they topped the final rise before Bywater, the ruin opened up before them. Flinn’s breath caught short. The once-lovely village of By water lay like a festering scar upon the land. Half the town was nothing more than a charred skeleton. Fire had ravaged the buildings, and thick timbers still smoldered. Bits of stone masonry remained, as did a portion of the second floor of the inn. Ash stirred in the light wind and swirled into the mid-afternoon sun.

The other half of Bywater hadn’t been touched by fire. Flinn at first hoped those buildings had been spared the destruction. But, passing the outskirts and entering the village proper, Flinn saw that he was wrong. Doors had been ripped from their hinges, windows had been smashed, and shutters tom away. Bodies draped the wreckage or lay in the road. An unearthly pall hung over the town. Flinn rode forward, and a lone dog ran barking across the street and disappeared into the remains of the blacksmith’s shop.

“Isn’t anyone left alive?” he murmured.

Stopping, Flinn tied Ariac’s rein to the ring in front of Baildon’s Mercantile. Only then did Flinn notice the long claw mark of a dragon. The gouge ran across the front of the mercantile and must have taken out the double doors, for burlap bags covered the opening now. It had shattered one of the windows, too, and bits of glass lay scattered about.

Verdilith! Flinn’s mind shouted. He bounded up the steps in front of the shop and burst past the cloth partition.

Baildon was inside, trying to restock the wares that had been scattered about in the attack. He looked up when Flinn entered. The merchant’s expression was stupid with fatigue and terror.

“So it’s Flinn the Fallen come to rescue us at last,” Baildon said. His voice was filled with scorn.

Jo and the boy crowded in behind Flinn. Dayin tried to say something, but Jo clasped a warning hand on his shoulder. Flinn threw her a grateful glance and then stepped forward.

“Verdilith?”

“Aye,” Baildon said softly, then sank to the floor. Slowly Flinn sat down beside him. The shopkeeper’s eyes disappeared into the folds of his face, and he began to cry. “He came last night, just at sunset. Nothing stopped him, Flinn. I doubt even you could have. I passed out every arrow and enchanted blade I owned. Esald—” the merchant’s face crumpled at some memory “—Esald attacked with his magic, too, but nothing halted the dragon. Nothing. He killed the horses first, and they screamed and screamed, but we couldn’t stop him. We thought he’d be satisfied with the horses, but he wasn’t. We tried… but… everything failed. Even after most of our men were dead, the wyrm wouldn’t cease his bloodletting. He went after the women and children we’d hidden in our homes and shops.”

The merchant shook with remembered terror, and Flinn saw that the man was near collapse. Flinn touched Baildon’s shoulder in compassion, but Baildon angrily shrugged the gesture away.

“Where were you, O Flinn the Mighty? Where?” Baildon yelled, his voice cracking. “You could have saved us if you’d wanted to, like I asked you to, if you hadn’t been such a coward! I knew you were afraid of the prophecy. I knew you were!”

“Baildon,” Flinn said quietly, “I’m sorry the dragon attacked Bywater. I can’t tell you how much I grieve for you—”

“Better yet,” the man continued as if he hadn’t heard Flinn, “why didn’t you kill the dragon when you had the chance all those years ago? Why’d you let him go? My town lies destroyed because of you. My daughters lie dead because of you.” The shopkeeper crumpled against Flinn. Wracking sobs shook Baildon’s large frame. Awkwardly Flinn tried to comfort his friend. Jo and Dayin stood a respectful distance away, trying not to intrude on the shopkeeper’s sorrow. They began clearing away the damaged goods and straightening the rest.

“What can I do to help, Baildon?” Flinn asked when the man’s cries began to subside and Baildon pulled away. Flinn put his hand on the merchant’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Let me spend a few days here with you, and I will help you put the mercantile back to rights.”

Baildon grabbed Flinn’s elbow. A strange energy pulsed through him. “Flinn!” he shouted. “Flinn! You can avenge my daughters’ deaths!” The man’s eyes fixed on Flinn.

The warrior leaned back. “Take it easy, Baildon. You’ve had a bad shock. Let me help you put your store back to rights, and we’ll discuss vengeance later.”

Baildon stood abruptly, and Flinn followed, though more slowly. “No, no. The best and only way you can help me is to leave now, and hunt the wyrm.”

“But the town…”

“There isn’t a man in Bywater other than me who ever gave you a kind word,” Baildon stated. His color was returning, and a fevered light shone in his eyes. “I’m asking you to do this for me, Flinn, though the town would ask the same of you if they only dared to speak to your face instead of behind your back.”

Flinn was reminded of all the whispered words of spite he’d heard in the past and the ringing taunts that had greeted him on his last trip. He gritted his teeth. To be a good and honorable man, he should stay here and help these people who had scorned him throughout the years. But even the jeering survivors would prefer him to win their vengeance rather than help rebuild their homes. The pain of past humiliations stung. Baildon’s plea was almost enough to tip the scales in favor of leaving Bywater.

“No, I can’t, Baildon,” he said slowly. “I must stay here and help you. It’s what I should do.”

Baildon looked aside. “It’s not quite that simple. Some survivors blame you for their troubles, Flinn. They need a scapegoat. You aren’t welcome in Bywater anymore. Ever. If you don’t leave now, they may kill you.” He looked back at Flinn. “And I cannot stop them.”

Flinn ground his teeth. “As you wish,” he said abruptly, giving in despite his better intents. Baildon clapped the warrior’s shoulders and smiled grimly, but Flinn held up his hand warningly and said, “I’ll go, but first I’ll need some supplies. And I have to go to the Castle of the Three Suns and become reinstated as a knight again, Baildon. Vengeance may take a little time.”

“Take all you want, Flinn. I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Baildon said brusquely. “What do you need?”

“Only enough food for about a week, Baildon. I don’t want the townspeople to go hungry because of us,” Flinn began. “I have money, too.”

The merchant stared back at Flinn, his eyes colored with pain again. “There are so few of us left. The food’ll go bad before we can eat it all. And I know it’ll take you more than a week to get to the castle and then find Verdilith’s lair. Besides, this is for my daughters.”

Baildon began gathering up the supplies Flinn requested: flour, salt, sugar, grainmeal, jerky, salt pork, dried fruits, and twice-baked bread, all packed inside two burlap bags that would straddle Fernlover. At the last moment Baildon insisted on adding a pot of honey, a fresh haunch of venison, and a flagon of mead.

While Baildon gathered the supplies, Flinn looked over the few remaining short swords, none of which were magical. He checked the blades for balance and keenness of edge. Finding one to his liking, he threw it to Johauna, who promptly checked the blade for herself. She nodded her approval to Flinn. The former knight turned to the shopkeeper.

“I’ve only thirty-five goldens, Baildon,” Flinn said and pointed to the blade. “Can I afford the sword, too?” Baildon gazed intently at the well-wrought blade in Jo’s hands. “Give me thirty for the food and the sword, Flinn, and we’ll call it even,” Baildon said finally. “You’re getting the best deal I’ve ever made, but I wouldn’t want to take the last gold from the man who’s going to lay my girls’ spirits to rest.” The large man finished packaging the supplies and handed them to Flinn, who put his coins on the counter. The two men clasped wrists.

“My thanks, Fain Flinn,” Baildon said steadily, his eyes bright with tears.

“I will bring you the head of Verdilith himself,” Flinn promised. “You can mount him over your doors.”

“Once they’re in place again,” Baildon managed to say with something of a smile. “I’ll see you to the edge of town. Go out the way you came in. The others are burying their dead out on the knoll to the east, and the sight of you would be enough to start a lynch mob. I buried Enyd and Naura there this morning,” he added in a strangely calm voice.

Flinn called to Jo and Dayin, who joined the warrior and the merchant outside. Flinn put the supplies on Fernlover. Leading their respective mounts, Flinn, Jo, and Dayin all followed Baildon as they walked back the way they had come. Flinn gritted his teeth. By rights he should pay his respects and then leave Bywater. Instead he was slinking through town hoping not to be seen!

They saw no one as they left the ruined village. Baildon and Flinn clasped wrists one last time, then parted company without saying anything. Flinn gave the signal, and he and Jo and the boy mounted up.

“Shouldn’t we be heading west for the castle by now, Flinn? Or are we headed somewhere else first?” Johauna asked after Flinn signaled a quick halt. They were less than an hour’s ride north of Bywater, and the crippled village lay out of sight behind the winter forests. The sojourn in town had been painful to Jo, though she had seen worse destruction done to parts of Specularum when the lords had decided to “clean up” the slum quarters. But the poor folk of Specularum had learned of the coming disaster and fled. The people in Bywater had had no such warning.

“To keep my word to Baildon and avenge Bywater, I must see if I can locate my sword before I do anything else,” Flinn said slowly. His moustache twitched a little, and he leaned against Ariac as he looked at Jo and Dayin. “I lost Wyrmblight deliberately—I won’t tell you why—in a game of bones to a dwarf. His name is Braddoc Briarblood, and a finer man I never knew. He lives somewhere north of Bywater and to the west of the Castellan River.”

“Somewhere? Don’t you know where he lives?” Jo asked. “No. I’ve never visited his home. You see,” the warrior hesitated, “we were mercenaries together for a while before I began trapping.” Flinn shrugged. “It was a living.”

“You lost Wyrmblight—the most fabulous sword in history—to a mercenary?” Jo’s voice rose. “Of all the—! What makes you think this—this paid raider still has Wyrmblight?”

Flinn shook his head. “I don’t think he has it. In fact, I’m sure he doesn’t. But I’ve got to find Braddoc to see if he knows where the sword is. The dwarf is notoriously well informed. He should also know the news of the castle—why the order hasn’t killed or banished Verdilith, who Yvaughan married, and whether she had her baby like Brisbois said.” Jo stiffened. “So we’re going to run around the Wulfholdes in the middle of winter until we find this dwarf?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes, we are. I know how to find his place, and it’s not that far out of our way,” he answered, growling slightly. “We head north along the Castellan, then turn west at a rock formation called the Broken Arch. That’ll bring us to Braddoc’s and head us back toward the castle.”

“What about Karleah?” Dayin asked quietly. Jo and Flinn glanced questioningly toward him.

“Karleah?” Jo asked.

“You said Karleah was northeast of the castle,” the child said to Flinn. “Couldn’t we stop to see Karleah on the way to the castle?”

“It’s a possibility I considered, but the decision’s Jo’s,” Flinn said heavily, then looked at Jo. “I know how eager you are to get to the castle, Jo.”

“Aren’t you eager, too?” she retorted.

Flinn cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve waited seven years; I can wait another few days.” He put his hand on Jo’s shoulder. “Jo, we can head straight for the castle if you want. I know time is precious to the young. I only wanted to go to Braddoc’s so I can find my sword, because I won’t be able to defeat Verdilith without Wyrmblight.” The warrior shook his head. “And if there’s trouble at the castle… if Brisbois and his cohorts are waiting for me, as they likely will be, I’d feel better with Wyrmblight in my hands. That’s assuming I can retrieve it between Braddoc’s and the castle, of course.” Jo paused to consider the options. “You still think Karleah might show us how to use the abelaat stones to see past events?”

“Yes, I do,” Flinn nodded.

“Then, let’s do it,” Jo said agreeably. “Braddoc’s first, crazy Karleah’s second, and the castle’s third. If we can use the crystals at the council, we’ll be sworn in as knight and squire that much quicker.” Jo smiled wistfully at the warrior and the boy.

“Good girl,” Flinn said briskly. “Mount up! I want to be north of the river before we set up camp.”

Nightfall found them north of the Castellan. They had located the wide river’s shallow ford just before the Castellan branched off into the upper Castellan and the Highreach. Flinn had not traversed the Wulfholde Hills in a long while, and he felt uneasy. The Wulfholdes were a rugged, treacherous range, home to Ogres, bugbears, orcs, and other humanoids. The Order of the Three Suns had often tested its mettle in these hills. Flinn set the boy the task of rubbing down and feeding the animals, while he and Jo set up the tarpaulin and the rest of camp. He scanned the sky nervously.

“Is something wrong, Flinn?” the girl asked.

“Something feels wrong,” he answered. “Don’t start a fire just yet. I want to check around a little before true night falls.”

She nodded, and Flinn slipped away from camp. His sword drawn, he began a systematic search of the half-mile or so of surrounding hillside. Their position by the riverside allowed the water to protect their backs. Few creatures would cross the river before morning, and by then they would have already broken camp. The hills surrounding him now were another matter. They seemed too quiet, as if something was on the march and silencing the lands as it went. Flinn cursed himself for not asking Baildon about activity north of By water. As a rule, none of the humanoid tribes moved in winter, for the Wulfholdes were too wild and treacherous even for them. Still, a small band of orc hunters or scouts might be on the move.

The warrior scanned the terrain as well as he could in the fast fading light. The wind blew from the south and the air was moist. They’d have snow on the morrow. He frowned. The Wulfholdes were no place to get caught in a blizzard. He could only hope he was overestimating the strength of the coming storm. At last, satisfied that nothing imminently threatened their camp, Flinn returned to the river.

“Did you see anything?” Jo asked, handing Flinn a bit of smoked pork on bread. She added by way of explaining the cold meal, “I figured we weren’t having a fire.” She and Dayin turned to their own food.

“Thanks,” Flinn said. “No, I didn’t see anything. Something still doesn’t feel right, though maybe it’s the weather. We’re in for a storm tomorrow. I think we’d best break camp before first fight,” Flinn added, wolfing his food. “You two turn in after you’re finished eating. I’m going to stand watch for a while.”

“Wake me at midnight for the next watch,” Jo said. She and Dayin disappeared into the tiny tent.

“If it’s necessary,” Flinn called after them. He made a tour of the campsite one more time while he finished his meal. Then he checked Ariac, Fernlover, and Jo’s hone. She had named the roan gelding Carsig, though why she wouldn’t say.

Flinn stood watch for the next several hours, restlessly roaming the camp’s perimeter. His thoughts were occupied by the bloody massacre of Bywater. The carnage there had forcibly reminded Flinn of the unspeakable evil of the dragon. Somehow he’d forgotten that evil in the last seven years. Verdilith was a threat to the entire region, and Flinn had to address that threat. At the least he should discover why the order hadn’t hunted the dragon. By rights, the Order of the Three Suns was supposed to protect all the citizens of this region. That right had been stripped of Flinn upon his dismissal as a knight. He had been strictly forbidden to act in any manner as a knight for fear his actions would mock the sanctity of the order. If my petition to be reinstated is denied, he thought, perhaps they will at least let me help track Verdilith. I know Verdilith’s mind better than anyone else.

At midnight he checked the perimeter one last time, but only a few wolves were moving in the hills. Flinn quietly entered the tent. He decided against sending Jo out on watch.

Flinn crawled to one side of the tent, Jo to the other, and Dayin took the middle. Flinn had instructed the child to sleep between the two adults. The warrior slid between the furs and knew immediately that it wasn’t the boy’s slim form next to him.

“Dayin? Dayin?” Flinn whispered, his voice cracking.

The child responded only with rhythmic breathing. Jo, however, said sleepily, “The boy’s asleep, Flinn, and so was I until you came in.”

“What are you doing in the middle?” Flinn asked, trying to relax his suddenly tense muscles.

“I told Dayin I was often cold in the morning, and he offered to trade places with me. I accepted. Am I supposed to stand watch now?”

“No, you don’t have to. Things are quiet out there.” Flinn shifted his position, wondering why he wasn’t comfortable.

“Good,” the young woman murmured. Then she rolled over, her head unexpectedly finding the hollow of his shoulder and her arm resting on his chest. He wondered if she could feel the rapid beating of his heart through all the clothing he wore. Flinn found himself putting his arms around her.

“Tell me about your days as a mercenary, Flinn. There aren’t any tales about that,” Jo mumbled sleepily, her breath warming his body.

“There’s not much to tell, really,” he said quietly. Lost in thought, he began rubbing his thumb back and forth where it rested on Jo’s arm. “I was dismissed from the castle with literally only the clothes on my back. I had no money, and only a little food. I quickly became impoverished. There’s not much call for a former knight.”

“Save as a sell-sword,” Jo added. One of her fingers kept curling and uncurling a leather thong on his shirt.

“Exactly,” Flinn sighed. “I met Braddoc in a tavern in Rifllian, over by the Radlebb Woods. We… we hit it off, though not immediately. He didn’t care about my fall as a knight, though he’d certainly heard all about it.” Flinn’s voice grew bitter. The months following his dismissal from the order had been the hardest ones of all to live through. Every town, every village tavern, had heard the tale of his supposed disgrace, and many people greeted him with jeers and even rotten fish or vegetables. His humiliation had been complete by the time he reached the town of Rifllian.

“Go on,” whispered Jo. Flinn wondered if the young woman was falling asleep, though he detected a certain tenseness in her back.

“I entered the Flickertail Inn that night in a foul mood.” Flinn gave a snort. “I was spoiling for a fight, and Braddoc and his cronies knew it. They knew who I was, of course, and that only made them all the more eager. Anyway, I insulted them—they were obviously mercenaries by the looks of them. I told them that even I wouldn’t stoop so low as to take up their profession.” The last words rolled out bitterly.

In the darkness he felt Jo turn to look at him, but the tent was swathed in blackness and he couldn’t see her eyes. She kept her hand on his chest, and Flinn found himself wanting to touch it. Biting his lip, he took hold of her hand.

“Go on,” Jo whispered.

“Braddoc and the others beat me up. Worse thrashing I’d ever had, too,” Flinn added. “But after it was over, Braddoc reached down and gave me a hand standing up. He offered to buy me a meal and a mug of ale, and I accepted. I was starving, and I think he knew that. Over our food he told me about himself and why he had joined the others. He asked me to join him, and I did. That was the beginning of my days as a mercenary.”

Jo snuggled against his chest again, sleep overtaking her. “Why’d Braddoc become a sell-sword?” she mumbled.

Flinn stroked her hair and said, “Another time, Jo. It’s time to sleep.”

Her only response was light breathing.

Flinn had always had the innate ability to awaken whenever he chose, be it dawn, the middle of the night, or a half hour after closing his eyes. He opened his eyes now at early dawn. The shelter was still dark with night, but the time had come to break camp. Slowly he eased his way out of the furs to give Jo and Dayin a few more precious moments of sleep. He left the shelter and walked about, stretching his muscles.

Dawn approached slowly; darkness still lay heavily on the valley by the river and the surrounding Wulfholdes. The warrior arched his back, feeling the bones slip into place. The hills were silent—strangely silent. Flinn scanned the land, west, south, east, and north.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

More than a dozen shapes—each darker than the hills surrounding them—were moving toward the encampment. Flinn’s senses newly aroused, he heard the rustle and clink of chain mail on leather as the shapes shifted position. They were slowly advancing, though their movements were still cautious. Good, thought Flinn. They aren’t sure of us. We can still escape this situation. He was acutely conscious of the ford behind him, and he cursed himself for not having pushed farther inland last night. Whatever was coming at him wanted to cross the Castellan, and this was the only ford for miles around.

The slowly dawning sunlight glinted off metal axes and spearheads. The shapes trudged nearer, their faces forming in the darkness. Their teeth jutted forward from protruding lower jaws, and their snouts were pushed back and flattened.

Flinn slowly reached out and pulled back the tent flap. “Break camp—now!”