Hot Obsidian

“Yeah, it is,” confirmed Juel. “Lots of swords are involved, too…”

Orion moved to the head of the caravan and squinted his eyes, listening. Jarmin’s foreboding turned out to be true, after all: there were bandits nearby all right. Maybe they even watched the team from the hilltop. Only they weren’t after the Lifekeepers; they choose a different prey…

A reckless, fiery feeling filled Orion’s heart to the brim. ph, Lar would be so angry with him if he knew.

“I’ll help them!” said Orion Jovib in a tone that allowed no arguments, and ordered his charga to run.

“Get back, you fool!” yelled Juel but Orion didn’t listen; his figure grew smaller and smaller with every passing moment.

Juel uttered the foulest Faizulish curse he knew, spat to the ground, and turned to the team, “Irin, Bala, follow me! Lainuver, stay with the kids!”

Far away, in clouds of dust raised from the road by dozens of feet, under the crowns of slender birches, amidst the lazy symphony of distant bird singing, a battle was raging. It could be barely seen from where the younger part of the Lifekeeper team stood. The kids tried to distinguish their elder teammates in the dusty crowd but that was easier said than done.

Lainuver, the only adult among the frightened children, seemed so tall and so serious now. He did his best to look confident, too, even though he didn’t feel even remotely like that. To him, a shadow master, forests were alien territory full of unknown dangers he was not trained to handle.

He felt even worse when he glimpsed dark silhouettes moving among the trees. The creatures ran on all fours but didn’t resemble dogs of wolves. Soon, everyone saw why. As the first creature jumped out of the undergrowth and met Lainuver’s blade, their nature and origin became as clear as day. The animals were tamed shlaks – ugly, massive brutes that looked like a weird mix between a wild boar and a dog. Armed with sabre-teeth instead of tusks, heavy in their front part of the body, they flew forward like bricks. The shlaks’ masters followed their animals soon. They looked relaxed, even careless, so sure they were in their victory. For real: who were they to be afraid of? Chargas? Shlaks would deal with them. Kids? Pfft! They’re good enough warriors to deal with kids. Aren’t they?

Chargas growled and formed a line in front of the young Lifekeepers…

…Orion jumped into the battle with very little idea about the side he would be on. But everything became clear to him as soon as he saw the tamed shlaks: the bandits were Shlakers aka the cheapest professional assassins in the No Man’s Land. They are not very subtle in their ways but are brutally effective. Someone must really have wanted their current victims dead…

Now, once Orion knew which side he was on, he spent no more time pondering the situation and a

“Oh, Jovib… you brainless son of a…” thought Juel as he bellowed a Faizulish battle cry and clashed into the assassins’ formation from the side while his charga took a juicy bite out of one of the shlaks that wasn’t smart enough to run away while it still had a chance.

…Chargas growled and formed a line in front of the young Lifekeepers. It’s not that they were determined to hold it, though: you just don’t do that when fighting against shlaks. A shlak is built like a brick armed with four sabre-teeth, a brick with its centre of mass skewed heavily towards the head. When that creature runs at you, it’s wiser to step aside and attack its back and thin hind legs instead. But to make that tactic work, you need the stupid beast to firmly believe that you’re holding the line. Pretend to be ferocious and determined or paralyzed with fear, whatever works for you. Chargas knew that. And their acting was top notch.

The shlaks charged, putting everything they had into that. The chargas let them come close, jumped aside with cat’s grace, and attacked their backs. The Lifekeepers did the same. Stepping aside from the line of a direct attack is a simple skill every child warrior knows, so even Jarmin had no difficulty evading the shlak that tried to ram into him.

The shlaks tried to slow down and turn around, but it wasn’t easy, considering all the effort and force they had put into that charge. Most were gravely injured or killed before they could regroup and do any damage. That was when the Shlakers joined the fight.

Most of their assassin brethren were away, fighting their main targets, only five were here to deal with the ambasiaths. With chargas busy fighting the shlaks, the boys had to deal with the Shlakers themselves. The boys: eighteen, six, twelve, thirteen, and… thirteen years old. Milian totally forgot about his birthday today…

Four of the Lifekeepers stepped forward to meet the assassins, shielding Jarmin from them. Every handguardless katana was already red with shlak blood. Every young face was grim and deadly calm.

Adult assassins couldn’t hold back their sneery comments as they faced the boys. But a cry from one of their brethren that fell on the ground with Jarmin’s knife in his throat wiped the smirks from their faces in an instant. The remaining four assassins charged, with a roaring battle cry.

…Orion’s charga got careless or maybe he did… anyway, he found himself in the air – and time slowed down for a moment – before hitting the ground so hard it knocked all the wind out of him. As he staggered up to his feet, he saw Juel and Bala fighting their way to him. Bala was good but Juel… Juel was amazing! Orion made a note to himself to never get on the Faizul’s bad side.

Three skilled warriors and a master archer that had unexpectedly joined the fight messed up the assassins’ plans completely. Soon, the Shlakers were retreating. No one pursued them.

Silence fell on the battlefield, only to be replaced by the forest’s careless symphony of singing birds and rustling leaves. The saviours and the saved ones took a good look at each other for the first time.

The saved ones wore simple black clothes, well-worn and salt-stained, and carried heavy, broad cutlasses bearing an unca

Shoving his people aside, the leader of the saved ones approached the Lifekeepers. He was a ghastly pale man; the way he was dressed suggested that he wanted to hide as much skin from the sun as possible. He wore a cloak with a tall collar; his thick gloves reached his elbows and were wrapped with extra cloth where they met the sleeves; a pair of obsidian-black glasses and a wide-brimmed hat with a broken feather completed his outfit.

Even though it was obvious that the saviours’ leader was Juel, the pale stranger looked at Orion alone and gave his thanks to him.

“Thanks for your help, guys!” he said in a voice that seemed strangely familiar to Orion. “I’m in your debt forever! If you need any help, any problem solved, just ask for Sumah – that’s me! – in any tavern of Tammar, Gurron, or a port city. I always pay my debts.”

“May I take a look at the wounded?” Bala interrupted him. In a moment, all the eyes were on his dark, lanky figure. “I’m a healer,” he explained.

“Do that,” said Juel. “Orion, let’s go check on the kids.”

“Allow me to keep you company,” Sumah unceremoniously chimed in. No one argued with him. “Meanwhile, my people will stay here and help your healer… So, what are your names, my saviours?” he asked.

“Juel Hak.”

“Orion Jovib.”