“Tell us what happened,” Brugo said calmly, his voice booming over the scattered whispers of the townspeople who had gathered outside in the morning sunshine.
They’d managed to put out the fires started by the lightning, leaving only a few charred marks in the fields closest to the edge of town. Now, the three companions stood together, surrounded by the common folk, listening intently to their tale.
“You saw him!” One of the men came forward. “He had a sword, gold and glowing. I ain’t ever seen anything like it. And when he swung it, lightning! Who’s ever heard of a sword that makes lightning?”
Harpyn and Anaya exchanged uneasy glances.
“When did he first arrive?” Brugo asked, trying to maintain order.
“Yesterday morning. He rode right into town and started making demands. At first, he wasn’t too unfriendly. But then my lady told him we didn’t have any meat to spare and he turned downright mean. Started spitting and cursing us, and that’s when he drew the sword.”
A shudder ran through the crowd.
“Did he give you a name?”
The man shook his head. “No, sir. He just kept saying he was sent by the king’s guard. King’s guard this, and king’s guard that. And he was wearing the proper armor, so I guess we took him at his word. The king’s never cared too much about the likes of us anyhow, so it wasn’t that unusual for a man of the king’s guard to come out here making demands and paying no respects.” There was a murmur of assent from the crowd.
“I understand. If it is as you say, this bears investigating. My friends and I need time to confer, if you wouldn’t mind.”
The crowd nodded, breaking away into disparate groups as the people went about their business. The man, apparently some kind of self-appointed leader in the town, remained nearby.
“I don’t like this one bit,” Harpyn muttered.
“Me either,” Brugo said in a low tone. “But these people are expecting us to help them. Now, I think we can make a good show of it and then slip out of town this evening.”
“No,” Anaya cut in, giving him a sharp look. “You saw that sword. That was no ordinary weapon. And he was wearing the uniform of the king’s guard. I’d bet anything that he stole it from the tower and then deserted the company.”
Harpyn nodded. “She’s right. I’ve seen that sword before, and it does not belong in the hands of just anyone. I don’t know what it is capable of, but I do know that there are no bounds to the corruption of a man who stumbles into too much power.”
Brugo sighed, rubbing at one of his tusks irritably. “Fine. We’ll find the man with the sword. But you two aren’t going to stand back and let me do all the work. I don’t like magic, and I didn’t sign on to end up chasing crazy lightning throwers all over creation.”
Harpyn and Anaya shared another worried look, but they both nodded their understanding.
“If I can take that sword to Yaal and presented it to the mages there, there’s no chance they’ll ignore me. Not if they know what it’s capable of. They’ll know just what to do with it.”
“This’ll delay our arrival in Yaal. If we don’t find him within the day, we’ll have to move on. I have people waiting on me.”
“I don’t think it’ll be hard to track down a lightning wielding man on horseback,” Anaya cut in softly. “Let’s just get this over with, and then we can go.”
With all of them in agreement, they turned back to face the town’s leader.
“We’ll find the man and deal with the problem,” Brugo announced. A few heads turned in their direction at his words, but the people seemed satisfied and went back to what they were doing. All, of course, except the leader.
“How are you going to do it?” The man asked.
Brugo shrugged. “Hard to say. I’ve never fought a man who could call down lightning. But I imagine his flesh cuts the same as any beast.” He laid his hand on his axe meaningfully.
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“Just be careful out there.”
As the three of them stood looking out into the field across the way, they considered their options. There was a clear path trampled through the tall stalks, and some of them even looked singed by the sword’s passing. The whole thing was making Brugo uneasy, and he wished he could disappear into the field, parting ways with Anaya and Harpyn so he could make his own way. After seeing Anaya’s power, he was seriously beginning to doubt she needed him at all. Over the course of only a few days, he’d come to regard her as a strangely powerful force, far from the vulnerable young girl he’d met outside of Torg Uyen.
And then there was Harpyn. Brugo didn’t know what to make of the young mage. By all accounts, he was a member of the mage’s order. He wore the robes of a mage. But Brugo had yet to see the young man conjure so much as a single spell. Well, except for popping in and out of portals whenever he wished. But if Harpyn harbored more power within his bones, there was no sign of it yet. Besides, Brugo was sure he’d heard a tinge of jealousy in Harpyn’s voice as he questioned Anaya about her magic.
He didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about it. Drawing his axe, he wielded it one handed, slicing left and right to clear a better path through the field. Wherever the horseman was, they would find him, and they would bring the sword to Yaal. Then they would part ways, and Brugo would never have to worry about lightning and magical harpies ever again. It would just be him and Mabel, like old times.
The deeper they got into the field, the harder it got to spot the horse’s trail. More than once, Brugo was sure they’d lost it, only to find another bit of burnt wheat here or there. Eventually, they were so deep into the fields, they could only just see the dark curls of smoke from the town rising overhead in the distance. The high road was some way back, and none of them were entirely sure which direction they were moving anymore.
And then they found what they were looking for.
Pushing through one last stand of thick stalks, they came into an area blackened by fire. The horse, previously strong and towering, lay on the burnt ground, it’s eyes white with terror. Beneath it, the rider lay, trapped. He did not make any discernible sounds, but his head thrashed side to side and as they stepped closer to investigate they saw that the sword was still clutched in his hand, spraying fits of lightning from time to time that arced and fizzled.
The three of them watched for several long moments, unsure of what to do next. It didn’t seem prudent to reach for the man or the sword, as it was. Brugo considered that he might be able to budge the horse a little to free the man’s trapped leg, but he wasn’t too keen on that either.
“Well?” Brugo said, looking to his companions expectantly.
Harpyn frowned, inching forward to peer over the horse’s girth. “I, for one, am happy to have avoided a fight,” he said, his peculiar brand of optimism rising to the surface.
Anaya sighed. “I guess that’s something. But what now?”
The man let out a tortured moan, and as they watched, the sword crackled with electricity. Each of them took a large step back, afraid to get too close. But it turned out, this wasn’t necessary, because instead of shooting lightning out, the sword sent the bolt coursing up through the wielder’s arm. In an instant the man’s veins bulged and blackened beneath his skin, snaking all the way up until the dark tendrils disappeared beneath the armor.
The man convulsed violently, his moan turning into a scream and then a strangling sound before his body went limp, and a thin trail of blood snaked from his mouth and down his cheek before dripping languidly into the dirt.
The three of them stood in shocked silence. The sword, previously quite active, had fallen still as well.
Finally, Brugo threw his hands up in the air, turning away. “Well, I’m not touching it. And I’m not going to stand here and watch you get roasted from the inside out, either. I’ll go talk to the townspeople. Come find me when you figure out how you’re going to move that cursed thing.”
He stalked away down the path he’d cleared with his axe, leaving Harpyn and Anaya in his wake. When he was about thirty paces away, he paused, listening for them to follow, but they did not. Shaking his head with disapproval, he continued walking until he emerged at the edge of the village.
The village leader rushed out to greet him. “Back so soon?” Then he frowned, looking around Brugo’s bulky frame before taking a step back. “What of your companions?” He asked in a more somber tone.
“The rider is dead. Slain by his own sword. And my friends… well, they were alive when I left them,” he answered dully.
If the townsman had further questions, he seemed determined to put them away. In fact, Brugo watched the man’s curiosity transform into something closer to satisfaction and then the stranger clapped his hands once and his face lit up with a smile.
“Well then, it seems we chose the right people for the job! I knew you could help us when I saw your mighty axe. We were all so worried that he’d come back here and burn the whole town to the ground.”
Brugo waved the man off and sighed heavily. “We are glad to be of service, of course, but I’m afraid we must be on our way.”
“Ah, we can’t have you running off so soon. First, we must repay your kindness. Tell us, warrior, what can we repay you with?”
The man was watching him eagerly, wringing his hands in front of him.
Brugo thought for a moment. For the first time, he was beginning to think that something positive might come of this whole ordeal.
“A dress for the lady and a pair of breeches for the young man.” He didn’t want to be too greedy, but they were in need of some clothing.
“And for yourself?”
Brugo grunted. “A strong drink and a means of sending a message to Yaal.”
The man clapped him on the shoulder and then hurried away to speak with a couple of women near one of the houses. They listened intently and then nodded before disappearing inside.
Brugo remained standing in the center of the small town, turning so he could watch the edge of the field for any sign of his companions.