Blade of Glass: Chapter 30.5

Meriwether ran after the others until his side hurt. He didn’t look back. The pursuing Knights would make it or they wouldn’t. Looking wouldn’t change anything and seeing the smoke creatures on his heels would just make his last moments more terrifying.

Troubles trotted along at his side, and he thought he sensed something snide in the horse’s sideways glances. He imagined her thinking, Is this the best you can do?

His cloak billowed free of his head in the rush, but it didn’t matter. A little sunburn wasn’t the thing likely to kill him right this moment. He saw Armitage lead the group up a sand dune, their menagerie of horses in tow. Geneve kept an effortless pace on his heels, but the cat was plain annoying. Sight of Day loped along like the speed of both human and Vhemin was glacial. He had plenty of time to look around and enjoy the view.

Meriwether didn’t want to run up a hill, and fate conspired to give him his wish. His foot slipped on loose sand, his other foot sank up to the knee, and before he could react he was rolling down the side of a dune. His view of Geneve and Armitage was replaced by a montage of earth/sky/earth/sky, on increasingly rapid repeat. On the way down, his face managed to find sand more than once, and it felt like someone was using a rasp on his eyeballs.

That was mere discomfort compared to the pain when he starfished face-forward during his downward spiral, caught his injured shoulder, and was tossed into the air by momentum. His arm wrenched behind him, pulling his injury. Bright red pain lanced his shoulder, but when he opened his mouth to scream, he landed eyes-first, getting a face full of sand.

His downward fall was mercifully arrested by the arrival of level ground. He slid for a few moments, then spent a few more groaning. Meriwether sat up, testing his limbs for breaks. Nothing screamed especially loudly. Most of him hurt at a general low level, which was not ideal but also not terrible. Troubles took her time following him down the dune, picking her way with horsely care. She arrived at his side, nuzzling him. He took the offered help, rising to his feet.

West he saw a bright flash of light, then another. The boom of thunder rolled across the distance. I guess that means the Knights are still alive. He didn’t feel disappointment, which spoke more to his character than the quality of his thinking. 

He turned east, meaning to follow the party. The wall continued to track in that direction. He’d found himself at the bottom of a ridge of dunes. He stood on surprisingly flat and level ground. Meriwether couldn’t immediately spy Geneve or Armitage, or the vast array of animals traveling with them, which no doubt meant they’d gone down the side of a dune. It’s fine. We’re going east. No need to panic. Head the same way, and eventually we’ll find each other. The important thing is to not be here when either the Knights or shadow guardians get here.

Thunder nipped his heels, reminding him both teams were still going at each other. He gave a glance back and saw lightning arc from the sky to crack against the ground. He blinked in awe, taking a half-step in that direction before shaking his head. There are things worth seeing in this life, but a pissed-off Valiant at the pinnacle of his power is not one of them.

It was worth bearing in mind the Sacred Storm Geneve sought with all her heart was a power to behold. It conjured the might of the very heavens to fight at a Knight’s side. Handy trick, that.

Spinning on his heel, he headed east. The ground continued to be flat, and more importantly, firm. His aching calves welcomed the lack of sandy give. He paused, scuffing the ground with a boot. After a few more scuffs, the sand parted enough to reveal ground. Not broken stone, or dirt. Meriwether bent, sweeping more aside with his hand. He cleared a patch, revealing an even, white material. It was coarse to the touch. He looked east again, seeing the smooth, flat sand stretching that way, then slowly turned west.

The ground was also smooth, flat, and no doubt solid that way too. The ancients built a road before their city, and while they might have found it useful, it will deliver two Knights to us in record time. If there was a silver lining in any of this, it was another four shadow creatures slipping over the wall. Their red eyes scanned around, marked Meriwether, then ignored him in favor of the westerly threat.

He scrabbled atop Troubles before the horse could bite him and put his heels to her flanks. She tossed her head but set off anyway. Troubles picked up speed, eating the klicks along the much firmer ground. Meriwether kept an eye out for Geneve’s red hair, Sight of Day’s tail, or Armitage’s hulking form, but also the end of the road. If he hit unsupported sand, Troubles would fall, perhaps breaking a leg. She’d toss Meriwether, the outcome of which was probably death for both of them, and he was keen to avoid that.

To the south, he spied Geneve standing atop a dune. She had her sword out, the blade glinting in the light. It gave her position away, and he wondered why she did it.

I’m an imbecile. It’s because she wants me to see her.

He reined in Troubles, waving. “Geneve!”

She saw him, waving back. “This way!”

He cupped his hands into a makeshift speaking-trumpet. “Trust me, but no. Down here!”

Geneve visored her face with a hand, surveying his position. She no doubt took his meaning because she vanished from sight. Meriwether sat on Troubles, more nervous than he’d normally be atop the vile beast. Waiting sucks. A minute later she came over the dune, Sight of Day and Armitage following her, as well as their horses and a pissed-off bear.

They hurried down the dune. Troubles shifted from foot to foot, perhaps sensing Meriwether’s agitation, but more likely trying to make him more nervous. The beast was uncanny in her dedication toward his discomfort.

The Knight, Feybrind, and Vhemin checked the west. Lightning slashed the sky again, and Meriwether caught what might have been longing in Geneve’s eyes, quickly hidden. Take her mind off everything she’s lost or never found. He pointed east. “The ancients built a road. It heads that way.” He jerked a thumb behind him at the light show. “It also goes that way, where there are two angry people fighting monsters. They’ll be finished soon, at which point they’ll want to fight us.”

Armitage squinted at him. “So, you’re not completely useless. Good to know.” He patted Beck, then hauled himself on the bear’s back. “The better news is there’s a place I know. We can hide there.” He sniffed, as if unsure of his assessment. “Maybe.”

Sight of Day seemed to float onto Fidget. Geneve swung atop Tristan. “Then we run.” She put her heels to her horse’s flanks and set off. Armitage whooped in response, urging his bear after, but the race was lost. Chesterfield galloped past the Vhemin, followed by Sight of Day. There wasn’t a contest. On smooth ground, horses were the fastest.

Meriwether kept Troubles’ speed down, holding level with Armitage. The bear’s gait was the unruliest thing he’d ever seen, but the monster kept to the bear’s back with whoops and hollers. He looked like he was having fun. Armitage glanced in his direction. “Go ahead, manling!”

“You know the way!”

“I’ll catch up.” A shark-toothed grin. “Road won’t last forever.”

Truth. Meriwether saluted, then let Troubles have her head. The horses bent to the task, mane flying. Meriwether ducked low, holding on tight. But for the first time in a long while he felt something tickle the back of his mind. It sat there behind the fear and pain. It was mirrored in the monster’s smile.

I’ll be damned. This is kind of fun.

* * *

The fun didn’t last, but that was the nature of fun.

The horses galloped but as Troubles began laboring under Meriwether, he reined her in, letting the foul-tempered brute walk it off. Geneve and Sight of Day waited for him. Geneve’s cheeks were flushed, and it almost looked like a smile threatened to break free. Chesterfield pranced a ring around her.

Sight of Day’s golden eyes were bright, and the cat half-smiled as Meriwether joined them. The three kept their speed low while Armitage caught up. Beck blew great lungfuls of air and let out a bellow that terrified Meriwether but didn’t seem to bother the Tresward horses at all. Chesterfield slashed a hoof through the air, tossing his head, as if saying, you want a piece?

Beck didn’t, as it happened. The bear was just being a bear.

They walked the horses for a while, then brought them up to a trot until they hit the sand’s edge. It was marked by a massive slab of the white road material breaking from the surface like a jagged bone. Meriwether swung down to examine the material.

“Careful,” Geneve warned.

“Yeah. Could be silk sands.” Armitage didn’t seem too worried.

Meriwether tested the ground as he walked forward, but nothing rose to eat his face, nor did he vanish beneath the surface, never to be seen again. The road material looked like stone, perhaps the finest quartz, but was clearly stronger. It’d sat here in the desert for over eight hundred years, and aside from this broken piece, looked like new. He glanced at the dead city, where the only thing living were shadow guardians. “What did they do to break the world?”

“Same thing you fuckers always do.” Armitage jabbed a finger at Meriwether. “Started a fight.”

“I didn’t start a—”

“Sure you did,” the monster rumbled. “Your Tresward is made for killing, and that’s an organization dedicated to worship.”

Geneve bridled. “I don’t think—”

“And then there’s your clown circus of royalty. They can’t stop fighting long enough to make a credible defense against the Tresward, right? Like, Knights do pretty much what they want, when they want. Yeah, yeah,” he patted the air in a calm the fuck down gesture, “I get the whole unstoppable force side of it. But there just ain’t that many of you. Not enough if the rest of humanity decided they were well sick of you. But they don’t stop reaching for each other’s throats long enough to get a posse together. Fighting’s what you know. It’s what you are.”

Meriwether rubbed sweat from his face. “And what of the noble Vhemin?”

Armitage guffawed. “We’re about as noble as your horse’s ass. We’re killers, like you. Worse in every way, too. No tribe around here larger than about fifty guys, right? When we meet each other, it’s a real struggle to work out whether we want to fight or fuck.” He scratched his head. “No, that’s easier, come to think of it—”

“Which raises the issue of our mission,” Geneve interrupted. “We’re trying to work out how the Vhemin raised a coordinated force.”

“Got a bigger boss, most likely. Someone ornery enough to punch-drive the rest of those assholes in the same direction. It happens. To be chief, you fight everyone. Win, you’re in charge.” Armitage nudged Beck into motion. “Come on. Daylight’s wasting.”

Meriwether led Troubles, following the rest. Armitage slipped off Beck’s back, even though the bear could manage well enough on the sand with paws instead of hooves. Meriwether wondered about the Vhemin’s reputation as heartless monsters. This one at least cared for his mount.

Sight of Day said nothing to any of them, his hands still and silent. The cat’s half-smile left, gone on a breeze, as he watched the Vhemin. Not suspiciously, or with anger. The Feybrind’s head tipped to the side like he was curious. Makes two of us. I don’t understand that creature at all.

They led their horses along the sands, heading east. Armitage squinted at the sun as if it held a map he could follow, sniffed the air, then turned them north again. The city was large, keeping to their west for a couple hours, but they eventually left it behind.

Meriwether hadn’t seen lightning strike for both those hours, but he hadn’t seen the shadow guardians follow. “I’ve been thinking.”

“First time for everything.” Armitage laughed. “How’s it feel?”

Geneve rounded on the monster. She got right in his face, staring up at the Vhemin without fear. “This man,” she jabbed a finger at Meriwether, “is one of the cleverest people I’ve met. He kept ahead of Knights after his blood. He contrived a ruse to get away from a horde of your kind. Meri’s learning Feybrind handspeak, and he picks it up faster than anyone I’ve seen. You’ve chipped away at his pride and his courage for days, and I will not stand for it!”

Armitage didn’t move. “That’s because he’s tiny.”

“You think size matters?” She slapped her chest, giving no ground. “Would you like to test yourself, creature?”

“I don’t think so.” Armitage shook his head, nice and slow. “Not today, anyway.” He took a careful step backward, then gave a mocking bow to Meriwether. “My apologies, manling. The squealing of your much stronger female convinced me. You are clever, oh mighty thinker. I stand ready to receive your wisdom.”

Meriwether’s mouth opened and closed a couple times without anything coming out. Too many impossible things just happened. He wasn’t sure if it was Geneve standing up for him, or Armitage apologizing that was the most confusing. He looked to Sight of Day. “What just happened?”

The cat gave a half-smile, touching the closed fingers of both hands to his chin, then spreading them forward like cascading stars. {Miracles.}

Make the most of the moment. Geneve hadn’t backed down, so Meriwether cleared his throat. The Knight glared at Armitage but swung aside without another word. Her cheeks were flushed, and Meriwether wouldn’t have put a silver regal either way on whether it was anger or embarrassment. “Anyway. The thinking part is this. The shadow guardians seek the highest threats out first.”

Armitage gave a last glance at Geneve, then nodded. “Okay, yeah, that sounds right. I mean, they wouldn’t attack you—peace, Knight!” He held up his hands as Geneve rounded on him again. “I mean no disrespect.”

“He speaks truth,” Meriwether offered. “They saw me on the sands. No sword or armor. Just a man with a horse. They saw another two with glass ready and dealt with them first.” He sighed. “It gives us a tiny piece of tactical knowledge. If we need to face shadow guardians again with a horde of Vhemin on our heels, we shouldn’t keep our weapons.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Armitage rumbled. His eyes sought the massive club lashed to Beck’s side. “Weapons are useful.”

“Or you could fight the shadow guardians,” Meriwether offered. “That’s a thing you could try. I don’t think it’d be that useful a test, though.”

“It’s a good idea.” Geneve nodded her agreement. “We don’t need weapons.”

“You might command the Sacred Storm, but the rest of us don’t have the same sense of style.” Armitage’s shark teeth showed.

“You’re the size of a house,” she countered, but her eyes slid away, perhaps not wanting to bring up her complete lack of Storm-ability. “Let’s press on. Night closes.”

Armitage nodded amiably enough, taking the lead once more. The monster doesn’t seem to hold a grudge. Are all Vhemin like that, or is this one unique? Meriwether followed, casting glances behind them, but he didn’t make out the telltale glint of steel in the setting sun’s light.

Maybe they’d made it after all.

If you enjoyed this, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or hopping on my mailing list.

Miss the other parts of Blade of Glass?

[First Chapter] | [Previous Chapter] | [Next Chapter] (Live 8 October 2024)