Chapter 14 – The Battle of Angstroll Ferry, Part 2

As Zaphyr and Sir Kyr slowly came back to consciousness, lying in the ash-strewn fields surrounding the smoldering wreckage of what had once been the inn, Zull and Vard tended to their wounds as best they could. While both appeared to have suffered some serious burns, especially Zaphyr along her right side, the most immediate and pressing concern was their thirst, as both appeared severely dehydrated from the heat. Zull too needed water, although he insisted they be aided first. Although there was little Zull could do to help them himself, Vard fortunately still had the canteen he had filled with the river water. The bard poured it slowly into both Zaphyr and Sir Kyr’s open mouths, before giving the last drink to Zull, to whom the relief it brought was immeasurable. Finishing the water in a single quick swig, Zull smacked his parched lips and said, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Vard said as he placed his cloak beneath Zaphyr’s head, propping her up slightly. “Who was that fellow?”

“A notorious killer and a hemomancer,” Zull said, drawing his arms tight against himself and trying to resist the urge to shiver in the creeping chill of the night as he spoke. “I think the Master hired him to kill the three of us. Ironically, the fire he started in his own carelessness killed him before he could finish the job.” Zull shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Zaphyr and I have had to crawl our way through two burning buildings in just over a week’s time.”

“You’ve lived through two fires in a week?” Vard said, amazed. “You must have either the most wonderful luck in the world, or the most atrocious. I’m not entirely sure which.”

Zull laughed, shaking his head slowly. “I wish I knew,” he said. He and Vard attended to his sister and their guardian in silence for a while, until Zaphyr stirred, groaning as she fully regained consciousness once more, saying, “Zared?”

“Dead,” Zull assured her. “The inn collapsed, and it’s still burning. No one could have survived that.”

Zaphyr sighed in relief. “I’ve never seen hemomancy used in the way he did.”

Zull frowned thoughtfully as he recalled their brief but brutal skirmish with Zared. “Me neither. It was a strange choice, using his own blood as a weapon like that. He wasn’t lying when he said he was a powerful hemomancer, but completely untrained if he couldn’t utilize our blood in the slightest.”

“You mean, he was doing all of that off purely his own instinct?” Sir Kyr, who had awoken as well, said in amazement. “What a warrior he could have made, with the proper training.”

“I’ll have to remember how he made those weapons,” Zaphyr said.

Zull shook his head. “I wouldn’t bother. Can you imagine the blood loss creating and sustaining a weapon like that would cause? He kept himself moving purely through his rage, and probably would have collapsed immediately after our encounter, regardless of who ultimately won. I don’t think either of us could maintain that for any length of time.”

Vard coughed into his hand then, drawing the attention of all three to himself. “I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion of battle tactics, but I do possess a rather pertinent question: do we intend to spend the rest of the night lying out here on this field?”

Sir Kyr tried to stand up then, then clutched at his head, wincing and baring his fangs.

“That blow to the head really hurt you, didn’t it?” Zaphyr said sympathetically.

Sir Kyr nodded slowly. “My head is still ringing, and it’s hard to think entirely straight.”

“Zared may have caused serious damage,” Zull said, raising a hand towards Sir Kyr’s skull. “Here, let us help.”

Sir Kyr batted Zull’s hand away angrily. “I’m fine,” he growled. “The bard is right. We need to keep moving towards the capital, and that means fording the river.”

“Couldn’t that wait until next morning when we have some better light?” Zull suggested.

“The boy does have a good point,” Vard added.

“With the morning, villagers will come to investigate the fire, villagers who will have very uncomfortable questions for us to answer. Do you really want to be here when that happens?” Sir Kyr snapped back.

None of them had a response to that. “Are any of us capable of piloting the ferry boat?” Zull asked.

“I could,” Sir Kyr said. Zull glanced at him doubtfully, but Zaphyr, whom Vard helped stand up as she clutched at her burned side, said, “Very well, let’s take the ferry. I don’t want to spend a minute longer here than I need to.”

The four of them walked to the ferry and hastily clambered into it, finding the oar for steering placed in the bottom of the hull as if discarded there by the last user. Sir Kyr picked it up, and taking his remaining sword, the one that Zaphyr and Zull had managed to save, cut the rope tying the ferry to the wharf. “We’ll beach it along the other shore,” he told them. “Then, we will continue onwards from there. Another few weeks of travel on foot, and we should reach the capital.”

Zull and Zaphyr both felt a brief stirring of hope at that. On the water, the air felt even chiller, and Zull tried to keep his hands from shaking by clutching the hull of the boat as tight as he dared. Zaphyr’s teeth chattered as she huddled besides her brother. Although they were now too far from the dwindling remain of the fire for Zull to read her expression clearly, he could tell from her body posture alone how physically miserable Zaphyr was.

“Everyone settled? I don’t want to take any chances. If you go overboard in this current, we won’t be able to save you,” Sir Kyr said flatly. The twins and Vard all mumbled that they were seated safely in the ferry. Sir Kyr used the tip of his oar to push off then from the edge of the pier and out into the open river, then, even as the current began trying to drag them downstream, he used the oar to counteract its pull, each mighty stroke carrying them a tiny bit closer to their ultimate destination.

Amidst the steady din of the river surging past them it was difficult to make out almost any other sound, but Zull’s ears couldn’t help but perk up when he thought he heard a loud splash along the shore they had just left. His head whipped back as he looked along the wharf, but there was nothing there to be seen. Shivering slightly, Zull turned to face towards their destination once more.

“Zull? What is it?” Zaphyr asked, concerned.

“Nothing, I hope,” Zull told her. “Just my mind playing tricks on me.”

The four of them huddled in the boat against the noise and cold of the night as they made their way across the river, moving inch by inch towards the haven of the opposite shore. As the boat rocked back and forth and Sir Kyr’s strokes became increasingly erratic, Zull looked at their protector worriedly. He seemed to have mostly recovered from the earlier blow to his head, but Zull had heard stories from Gerok of unfortunate individuals who had received head injuries and, while initially appearing to have recovered, suffered sudden bouts of dizziness or confusion weeks, months, or even years later. Although, that was all dealing with people who were human, Zull thought. For someone with a biology as unusual as Sir Kyr, I can’t even begin to speculate what that blow did.

Zaphyr noticed Sir Kyr’s behavior as well, saying in a worried voice, “Are you sure you are well?”

“I have to be,” Sir Kyr said, his tone strained and distracted.

“Leave him alone, lass, and let him focus on steering the ferry,” Vard told Zaphyr. “You and your brother can do whatever you need to do to help him recover afterwards.”

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Zaphyr accepted that advice, settling with her back against the side of the boat. Zull tried to relax as well, permitting himself to think, the worst must be over by now. He was corrected a moment later as he heard another splash, followed by the rhythmic sounds of somebody swiftly swimming across the river. Now all four looked back, seeing a figure paddling determinedly towards their boat at uncanny speeds. Although they couldn’t make out the figure’s face in the darkness, there was only one realistic option, one that chilled Zull to the bone.

“Faster,” he said to Sir Kyr. “Faster!”

“I’m rowing as fast as I can,” Sir Kyr said. Nevertheless, the swimming figure slowly but steadily gained on the boat, until whoever it was suddenly dipped below the surface a short distance away, vanishing from sight. Zull and Zaphyr both carefully studied the turbulent surface of the stream for any sign of their pursuer but saw none. Zull started to relax the tiniest amount, before Zaphyr let out a shriek that made his skin shiver with utter dread. He turned to see what she was so panicked about: there was a bleeding hand, slick with both blood and river water, clutching the edge of their boat. Slowly, the hand pulled the rest of the figure into view, revealing something that seemed to have escaped from some realm of nightmares. It was Zared Choler, although he was charred to the point of being almost unrecognizable, his entire body coated in burns and horrific wounds that openly wept blood. His mouth was pulled back in a rictus grin that seemed frozen on his face, and his eyes gleamed with a wild, bloodthirsty light. Sir Kyr swung the oar to strike Zared, but Zared raised his other hand, from which emerged a stream of blood with enough force and precision to shatter the oar’s head. Zared remained perched along the edge of the boat as Sir Kyr wobbled unsteadily, his balance upset by the oar’s destruction.

“Even if I had let you hit me with that, do you really think it would have done anything?” Zared asked, his voice deep and harsh, a perfect mirror for his scorched body. “I’m invincible. And all of you will soon be dead.”

Zared spread his arms wide, and countless tiny blades of blood emerged from the wounds along his arms, which he sent flying out towards the four of them. Although none of the weapons were particularly large or aimed accurately, the sheer number of them meant all four had to dive to the bottom of the vessel to protect themselves. Before they could stand upright again, Zared leveraged his hold on the side of the vessel to catapult himself into the ferry, landing atop Zull, who he slammed against the ferry’s floor. Without hesitation, Zared then wrapped his hands around his foe’s throat. Zull struggled, trying to break free, but Zared’s grip seemed to be made of iron. Zull found himself pinned, unable to escape. Zared cackled manically as water ran in rivulets down his face, dripping to the hull below. Zaphyr struck with her fists at Zared, but he ignored her punches as if she weren’t even there. Zull’s vision began to blur, his sister’s anguished cries mixing with Zared’s cackling laughter as the world seemed to melt around him.

Sir Kyr hefted the splintered shaft of the oar and, pulling back his arm, hurled it with all his strength at the demented killer. Its splintered end pierced Zared in the chest, the sheer force of the blow sending him tumbling off Zull, who, able to breathe at last, gasped frantically as he scrambled away from the killer. Zared turned his hate-filled glare towards Sir Kyr.

“I almost killed you before, animal,” Zared spat. “Now I-”

Zared was interrupted in the middle of his statement by Vard, who had drawn his wooden flute from within his coat, striking Zared over the head with it. The instrument shattered, and Zared reeled, twisting to face his foe with obvious bewilderment.

“The bard?” he said, confused. “How did you get here?”

“One could say I’m along for the ride,” Vard said with an apathetic shrug. “The ferry ride, at the very least.”

Zaphyr, taking advantage of Zared’s temporary distraction, used her own hemomancy to try and draw the blood leaking from his wounds and then wrap it around his body to bind him in place. Zaphyr struggled to maintain the bonds, her face covered in sweat as she focused on the task. Zull stared at her, eyes wide. “You can’t do it!” he said.

“I have to try!” she retorted, clenching her trembling fists at her sides as the chains of blood finished encircling Zared’s body. Zared looked down and, with a simple laugh and flick of his head, the chains dissipated.

“Don’t you get it?” Zared asked tauntingly. “My hemomancy is far stronger than either of yours, and it protects me from the consequences of any injury. No matter how much you injure me, I can simply reinforce my body. I’ll keep attacking you, and attacking you, and attacking you, until either you die, or I do.” His smile grew even wider then, and for a moment he truly appeared to be some kind of twisted ghoul, incapable of dying.

Zull turned to Zaphyr, a solemn look in his eyes. “No,” she said quietly, understanding what he intended instantaneously. “No, we can’t do that, Zull. We can’t!”

“We must,” he said softly. Zaphyr wanted to protest but knew intuitively that he was correct. The twins faced off against the grinning killer, who, despite being surrounded by the four of them, still smiled triumphantly, confident in his inevitable victory.

Zared formed another spear of his own blood, hurtling it at Zaphyr’s heart. Working together, the twins managed to not just stop the spear, but send it hurtling back at Zared. Zared, eyes’ widening, halted the spear in mid-air, where it hovered, swirling, mere inches before his face.

“Now!” Zull shouted while Zared was occupied. As one Vard and Sir Kyr jumped forward and, grabbing the deranged killer, pinned his arms against his sides.

“What are you doing?” Zared bellowed. “Let go of me! Let go of me!”

Ignoring the killer’s complaints, Zull said in an even tone, “Hold him under the water. Drown him. It’s the only way to make sure he’s dead.”

Vard’s face turned pale, but he swallowed once then nodded his assent. Sir Kyr said nothing. Zared shrieked, “Unhand me! You can’t kill me! I…I…”

Acting as one, Sir Kyr and Vard lifted the struggling killer out of the ferry and shoved him into the tumultuous water surrounding their boat. Zared desperately lifted his head above the water to keep breathing, but Sir Kyr grabbed him with a clawed hand and shoved his face back beneath the surface of the river. Zared thrashed back and forth, trying with all his strength to break free of his captor’s grasps. Zaphyr watched on, horrified, but unmoving. Zull’s expression turned into one of stony calm. As time passed at an agonizingly slow rate, Zared’s struggles grew weaker and weaker, as he lost his strength and fought simply to stay conscious. Eventually, he stopped moving altogether, and simply hung there limply, faced buried beneath the waves, still held by Vard and Sir Kyr.

“Can we release him now?” Vard asked, his voice queasy and uncertain.

“Not yet,” Sir Kyr said calmly. “We must wait a little longer to ensure he’s dead, and not merely unconscious.” He nodded his head a few times as if counting to himself, then said, “Very well, let him go.”

They released Zared’s body, which floated away from their boat downstream, turning slowly in the current, but remaining with the face submerged in the water. Soon, the body disappeared entirely from their view.

Vard sat back down in his seat at the prow of the raft, then looked down at his hands, his expression one of sick disgust. “What have we done?” he asked aloud.

Sir Kyr did not answer him, instead picking up the paddle and resuming the task of steering them towards the opposite shore. Zull looked back and forth from Vard to Sir Kyr, remaining silent as well. Zaphyr, breathing heavily, leaned over the side of their raft and vomited into the river, weakly leaning against the raft’s hull for the rest of their voyage as she continued to periodically retch.

“Don’t worry,” Sir Kyr told the others. “We will reach the shore soon enough.”

The knight was true to his word. Despite the water becoming increasingly rough and choppy as they traveled, Sir Kyr managed to keep them on a steady course, steering then unerringly towards the opposite shore, which they landed on a short while later. Zull and Zaphyr dragged their way out of the vessel onto the sandy shore, where they lay, shivering. As exhausted as they were from the night’s events, both soon fell asleep. Vard slowly got out of the vessel, his expression glassy and blank, as he walked over to where the twins had fallen and sat down besides them. Sir Kyr stood up and, shoving the boat away from shore, watched impassively as it began to float downstream, pulled along by the current.

“Why did you do that?” Vard asked.

“I don’t want anyone following us, or even knowing that we passed this way,” Sir Kyr told him. Stepping out of the raft, he shoved it off the shore and into the river once more, where the current carried it, now abandoned, downstream and away from them. “That lunatic was doubtless far from the only hired killer on our trail. This way, anyone pursuing us will think we landed further down the river, which should hopefully buy us more time to cover our true trail.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Vard said, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm.

“If you had spent as long on the run as I had, you would have considered this as well,” Sir Kyr told him.

“The life of a fugitive is a new one for me,” Vard replied. He looked down at his hands once more. “As is the life of a murderer.”

“It was either kill him, or let him kill the twins and ourselves,” Sir Kyr said with an apathetic shrug. “I won’t lose any sleep over the world’s loss of such a sick, twisted madman.”

“You won’t,” Vard muttered to himself.

Sir Kyr stopped, walked over to where Vard stood, and poked him in the chest. “Listen to me, Vard. You wanted this, remember? You wished to take part in our heroic quest. Did you really think that wouldn’t involve killing? How childish.”

Vard, stung, drew back from Sir Kyr as if the knight had just threatened to disembowel him with his claws.

Ignoring him, Sir Kyr continued, “Somewhere out there is the Master, and he will stop at nothing to kill both Zaphyr and Zull. He and his agents cannot be reasoned with, and we can only flee from them for so long. We killed tonight, and we will have to kill again, if we are going to protect those children. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Vard said nothing, simply glancing away into the night.

“That’s what I thought,” Sir Kyr said with a nod. “Here, help me set up camp. In the morning, once the twins awake, we will continue. Until then, best if we conserved our strength. Our trials are only beginning, I fear.”