f4f3 | The baldy sod does go on a bit...1,700 words worth

Chapter Four:

Tales in the dark, fortunes told. One sword, two swords, three swords more. A visitor.

Erik sipped again from his whisky, stared into the flames, looked up with his night vision wrecked and decided he’d stalled for as long as he could. If BloodRaven was to be useful to him, he would have to stay alive, and his ignorance of some things could kill him. Han too, had linked his life with theirs, and deserved to know something of what he’d gotten himself into…

It had been a long time since he’d sung a saga, but the temptation never really went away, and the setting was too good to resist. He’d sung to smaller audiences than three, although not lately. Not a saga, though, there wasn’t time.

“Listen well, then, and I will tell you a tale. You need to hear of Hounds, of their Master, and, I’d judge, something of the blade you carry. You never told me how you came by it, BloodRaven.”

The big man shifted, seemed about to speak and then shook his head. “That’s my story, old man, and I’ll keep it to myself for now.”

“Very well. But you know that it is one of twins, the blades of Ruby and Diamond? Their story is an old one, older by far than you, and I have neither time nor inclination to tell you it now. Some other time, perhaps, but not this time.

It is enough for you to know that those twin blades are joined by a powerful magic, that in some ways they share a single soul… Enough. They are magic blades. The magic is lessened when they are apart, for much of its strength goes into calling one to the other. Alone each blade is mighty. I’ve seen you throw it through a horse, slice it through an enemies blade is if the steel wasn’t even there. When you wield it you do not tire. If you carry it, no poison affects you, and very few enchantments will have power over you. And it has powers you’ve probably never discovered.”

BloodRaven stirred again, Han’s eyes glittered. “What sort of powers?” asked the boy.

“Never you mind. The powers have a price – it takes a strong man to hold the blade for long. It never ceases to amaze me when people talk of the hidden cost of magic… There is no hidden cost. The cost is obvious, and in the end it leads to death.”

“Rubbish, old man. The blade has saved me more times than I can count. I’ve won more combats than any man has a right to, rode off battlefields that should have seen me dead a dozen times over.”

“And what took you to those battlefields, why did you fight so many men? You are strong, Barbarian Who Calls Himself BloodRaven. Your strength came to you early, with your height. I’d bet that you never had to fight to prove yourself – strong men are given that by right. Only the small, the frightened look for fights, for somewhere to prove themselves. Do you fight more often now you’ve found the sword?”
BloodRaven didn’t answer, but he shifted again, reached out towards his sword, drew back.

“Anyway, I digress. If the two swords were brought together, their power would more than double. Weapons of their might have laid waste armies, have brought countries to their knees. In the wrong hands, they would create a monster. Even in the right hands, the best you could hope for was years of exile, wandering as far as you could from other men so that the swords could not feed.”

“Horseshit, old man. Those swords are the weapons of a hero – with them in my hands I would uphold justice, punish the evil, defend the good. Just as I did before I lost the diamond blade.”

Erik was looking away from the fire now, towards the furthest away of the stones, and the bushes which grew up behind it.

“Of course, BloodRaven, forgive me. I spoke of normal men, not heroes… Anyway. Whatever their nature, you’ll admit that the swords are strong in magic. Some men can feel that magic from a distance. For most it takes years of training, but everyone has a trace of the power. In some it is almost too small to be trained. For most of us, it’s a skill that comes as hard, or as easy, as learning to use a weapon. And for some, well, you must know men who can pick up a musical instrument for the first time and play it, who learn languages faster than most of us, who are just naturally skilled. Well, some men are that skilled in magic.”

He reached around to cuff the back of Han’s head. “You, boy, are not one of them, so stop bugging your eyes out of your head. You’re trainable, but you’re no speyman.”

The boy looked downcast for a moment, and then sighed. “Well, a boy can wish.”

“Be careful what you wish for boy, it might come true. The Hounds are drawn from those with that talent. Every powerful ruler has his own dogcatchers, who sweep the countryside for such useful men. If they’re caught, they’re chained and dragged off to be, well, taught is too kind a word for it. When you see the Kennels, you stop being surprised at what they become.

“But as I say, they can be useful. They can sense magic at a distance, see enchanted objects however they are hidden. Mostly this sense works over a few score yards, a mile maybe. Speymen have their own form of this power, one which works at a distance. They call it dowsing. Give them a map, and they can tell where certain power sources are. Gold, water, magic. It’s not an exact skill, but they can find something to within a few miles. A speyman could follow your sword, BloodRaven, and send out Hounds to seek it. It would take them some time to find your trail, once they were close, but they would find it. You are being hunted in this way. Someone rich enough to have his own pack of Hounds is using a speyman against you. ”

“What you say has a ring of truth to it. But why? And who? I’ll admit, I’ve made many enemies. Some of them, although not many, mark you, are still alive. But none of them were rich. At least, not after they’d met me.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious. The man who is hunting you is the one who has most to gain from seeing you dead. You remember the Hounds said they were ordered to take your head and your sword back to their masters? (WELL THEY WILL HAVE SAID IT WHEN I EDIT!)”

BloodRaven nodded his head. “I thought that was a good way of getting proof it was me.”

“It is. It’s also a good way of getting the Ruby Blade back to its twin. The man they serve already holds the Diamond Blade. With one blade, he’s made himself absolute master of his own kingdom. With both blades, the borders of that kingdom would swell beyond his little land of mountains and lakes, to the seas, and maybe beyond. This world hasn’t been a single empire for three thousand years. He could conquer the world in that many days.”

BloodRaven swore, and spat in the fire.

“And I suppose you know where he is, this tinpot emperor? I suppose he’s marked on your wonderful Map?”

Erik nodded. Han seemed to start, his eyes widening. When the boy spoke his voice trembled, with excitement or fear.

“So we can find him? Kill him and take the blade? It’s the only way BloodRaven will be safe. We must do it!”

BloodRaven laughed, bitterly.

“Boy, if you knew that you were being pursued by a rich, ruthless warlord, one carrying a blade as powerful as your own, one who could command armies of Hounds and Speymen, and who wanted your head, well, you’d know there was only one sensible thing to do.”

Erik moved around the fire, turning his back on it, and the raving barbarian. BloodRaven was on his feet, his hands clasped in front of him as if strangling his distant adversary.

“Run, run as far and as fast as I can, find the ocean, take a boat, and sail to where there are no maps, where no one could dowse for me, where I’d leave no trails. That’s the only thing to be done.”

Han seemed near tears. “Run? Is that what you’ll do?”

“No boy. I won’t. The dammed sword won’t let me. I’ll follow this old fool like a moth searching for a lamp, except this is no lamp, it’s a fucking volcano.”

He whirled away from the fire, his voice somewhere between grief and anger.

“Well, old man, I hope your happy. You get to lead two of us into the Shadow. I just wish I knew what in the name of Hell you got out of it. Old man?” his eyes sought Erik in the darkness, but all he could see was shadows, until he heard bushes rustle and the sounds of a struggle, cut short by the thump of leather meeting flesh, and the sound of running feet heading away from them. The bald man limped back to the fire, clutching his groin.

“Bastard’s been listening to us since we got here. I tried to circle behind him while you were having your little moment of self pity. All I got was a boot in the balls for the privilege. Almost had him, though.”

A contemptuous snort came from the darkness.

“Almost had me my arse. And what do you mean ‘him’.” The figure that walked into the firelight was anything but male. Easily taller than Erik, even if he hadn’t still been hunched over, she was slim as a bow, and tauter too. She swung towards BloodRaven.

“And what do you mean, big man, ‘Lead the two of you’? Do you think you’re the only ugly bastard with a stake in seeing Darkholme fall?”