NIGHTSEED part 9
Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk
CHAPTER NINE

  "Damn, fucking, damn, fucking shit!"
  V'Daa paced up and down before the surviving horsemen, his 
midnight blue cloak swirling about his legs as he worried an 
unfortunate thumb nail with his teeth. The three men, targets of 
his vitriol, looked nervous, and with good cause. In this mood, 
they knew, he was easily capable of ordering their deaths on a 
second's notice. He ceased his restless pacing and turned to them, 
face suffused with anger.
  One of the men opened his mouth to speak. This would have been a 
fatal mistake, and Amillie quickly insinuated herself between the 
men and her lord. The thought of their deaths did not dismay her, 
and she would have happily carried them out herself if her master 
so ordered. But she knew that, if she did not intervene, he would 
kill them himself right here and now, and his methods tended to be 
very messy. Amillie could not abide mess.
  "I don't believe it!", she spat, informing them by her tone that 
she was saving them from certain death but they were by no means 
off the hook yet. "There were twelve of you. Twelve! And you 
couldn't take care of a woman, a youth, and a dwarf? You disgrace 
the whole Nightseed. What are you, cowards?"
  The rider to whose rescue she had come bowed his head. 
"Apologies, my lady. The woman is formidable. We have never seen 
anything like her. The youth was no threat and the dwarf, although 
handy with his axe, would have been little problem. But the woman! 
Fast. Strong. Like a fighting machine. We couldn't get near her, 
ma'am. And then there was the man..."
  "Man? What man?"
  "We don't know, ma'am. He just appeared out of nowhere. He saved 
the woman from a blow that would surely have finished her, and 
killed Brother Cedral, but other than that, he didn't take much 
part. Just sat on his horse watching the woman fight".
  Moving like a striking snake, V'Daa pushed Amillie to one side 
and grabbed the speaker by the throat. For a long moment, he 
glared into the man's eyes, breath coming in short snorts through 
flared nostrils and teeth bared in an unholy grin. The man 
blanched pale, seeing his own death in the other's insane eyes. 
  And just as quickly, the madman seemed to lose interest. He 
pushed the man from him and turned his back in contempt. When he 
spoke, it was in a deadly calm, flat voice.
  "Get out of my sight. You disgust me".
  The three needed no second telling, but turned smartly and left 
the room with alacrity. As the door closed, V'Daa resumed cursing.
  "Damn! Bloody, buggering, bastard, twatting, fucking fuckwits!", 
he railed. His voice lowered as he began to reason, apparently 
with himself, although Amillie knew it was more likely that he was 
conversing with the voices in his head. It was now, she knew, that 
he was at his most dangerous. 
  "I don't ask much of them, do I? I give them this citadel to 
live in, all the sex and debauchery they could possibly need. Damn 
it all, I even give them me to worship!" His tone became 
conspiratorial. "All I asked of them was that they go out, and 
kill me one woman. One, single woman. Just one! Is that too much 
to ask?" He threw his hands in the air as his voice began to rise 
again. "I think not! And they couldn't even do that one, tiny, 
pissant little thing for me. Me! Their Lord! Who shall be as a 
god, when the Dragonkind comes. Well, they shall see! Oh, yes! 
When I am a god, when I rule over their tiny, pitiful little 
lives, when kingdoms fall at my word, then, then they will all 
see. And all of them, the whole split-arsed, fuck-headed slew of 
them. Not just the Nightseed. All of them". A little white froth 
of spittle collected at the corner of his mouth, and his fist 
smacked into his palm. "They shall feel my power!"
  When he was like this the safest thing, Amillie knew from 
experience, was to let him rave. Let him shout and rant, let him 
get it out of his system, and eventually he would come down from 
whatever self-aggrandised heights he had reached.
  And, finally, he did. His rage blew itself out. His voice became 
calmer and his stertorous breathing returned to a semblance of 
normal. At last, Amillie felt safe enough to speak.
  "What is your wish, my Lord?"
  "My wish? My wish is that this ...bitch woman would go away and 
let us get on with things". His brow creased as he remembered 
something one of his men had said. "This man", he mused, beginning 
to pace again. "What of him? Is he a new threat?"
  "Perhaps. Perhaps not. The main threat remains in the shape of 
the woman. Lord, we must assume that these three were not the only 
survivors. She would have interrogated at least one, and she may 
know much more than we think. They may even get here before the 
Dragonkind. We must prepare".
  V'Daa stopped his pacing and regarded her thoughtfully. "You 
have some knowledge of the arcane arts. Can you at least delay 
them?"
  "I can try, Lord".

  The soft night breeze stirred her hair as she stood motionless 
in the dark, hands resting lightly on the pommel of the heavy 
broadsword that hung at her side. Her tall figure, limned by the 
red glow of the campfire, looked serene and relaxed as she stared 
into the darkness, a little smile playing about her lips as she 
remembered, a little wistfully, her encounter with the man, 
Chthord, and she hoped she would one day meet him again.
  A short distance to her rear, sitting close to the fire and 
sipping the last dregs of their herb tea, Lon and Brannagh watched 
her. Each had his own feelings about the powerful woman who had 
become their dear friend. 
  To Brannagh, she was like a daughter. As a member of a warlike 
race, he was filled with pride at her achievements and prowess in 
battle, and the sight of her filled him with fatherly feelings.
  Lon was experiencing mixed emotions. The speed at which she 
could instantly turn from a warm, cheery comrade to a coldly 
efficient, deadly warrior, ready to deal extreme violence, 
disturbed him somewhat and frightened him a little. Her immensely 
strong and intensely feminine body excited him enormously, and her 
great beauty coupled with her [usually] serene and warm character 
filled him with love.
  And, he had to admit to himself, the knowledge of what she had 
done yesterday with the stranger made him green with jealousy. Oh, 
he knew he would never have a chance with her. She treated him 
like a well-loved puppy; he knew that, and accepted it gladly. But 
on the rare occasion that she decided to take herself a man, he 
could not help but feel the green-eyed monster raging inside him. 
He sulked as he poked the fire savagely with a stick, sending a 
fountain of sparks skyward.
  "'S no use you gittin' all worked ups". The gruff voice of the 
dwarf interrupted his reverie. "Yer knows 'er's got needses, jus' 
like any womans. Yer bes' bets is ter fergit all abouts that Ker-
thord fella, fergit all abouts gittin' she inter the sacks wi' 
yer, an' jus' enjoy she's company whiles yer can".
  "That's easy for you to say. You don't feel about her the way I 
do".
  "Nope. I doesn't. But I feels jus' as strongs 'bout she in 
t'other ways". He suddenly stopped himself, aware that he was 
about to show some emotions other than blood-lust; that was not 
the dwarven way. Hurriedly, he hauled himself to his feet and 
called out to the woman. "Brenhya. 'S times yer gets some kips. 
G'wan, youse two turns in. I's takin' the fust watches".
  The tall woman looked down at the dwarf and smiled. "Good idea", 
she said. "Wake me in three hours, OK?". She yawned and stretched 
mightily, coincidentally flexing her splendid muscles, which made 
Lon bite down on his lower lip with a tiny moan.
  I wish she wouldn't do that, the young wizard thought as he 
arranged his bedroll. He clasped his hands behind his head and 
stared up at the stars through the filigree canopy of leaves, as 
he lay on his back, conscious of a tight feeling in his groin. He 
thoughts were racing, and he thought he would never be able to go 
to sleep.
  Brannagh sat down on a log near the fire, sharp eyes staring 
into the dark. Very soon, the sounds of Brenhya's rhythmic, even 
breathing, and Lon's gentle snores, came to his ears. The dwarf 
glanced at the two recumbent, blanket-wrapped figures and, 
confident that no-one could see, permitted himself a smile.
  After an hour or so of peering into the night, he felt his eyes 
getting heavy. The fire was dying, now, so he got up and stirred 
the embers with his iron shod boot, and added a few more sticks to 
keep it going. He took his watch duties very seriously, as dwarves 
tend to do with everything they undertake, so to stave off 
tiredness he began to pace up, down, and around their small 
campsite.
  A sudden shock of electricity staggered him as he walked into an 
invisible barrier. It threw him back several paces, where he sat 
down heavily on the turf.
  The crackle woke Brenhya, and she was on her feet with sword in 
hand in a instant. In two long strides, she was kneeling at 
Brannagh's side.
  "What happened?"
  The dwarf put a hand to his head and groaned. "Dunno", he 
admitted. "I's just walkin' alongs, an' bam! 'S like I walks into 
a walls. But there's nuffin' there".
  "Psychic barrier", Lon said as he came up, rubbing the sleep 
from his eyes. They both looked at him as if he was crazy. 
"What?", he asked, spreading his hands wide. "Why're you looking 
at me like that? You got a better idea?"
  Brenhya and Brannagh looked at each other, and shrugged in 
unison. "I suppose not", she agreed. "Let's have a closer look".
  At the dwarf's direction, she approached the spot where he had 
encountered the barrier. Taking a long stick, she probed ahead of 
herself. There was a little sizzle and a few blue sparks as the 
point of the stick touched the invisible wall. Peering very 
closely, she fancied that the trees on the other side seemed to be 
shimmering ever so slightly.
  Investigation showed that the field was about forty feet across, 
and extended all the way round their camp. Vertical probes showed 
that they were, in effect, enclosed by a clear, hemispherical 
bubble.
  Her sword swung hard. With a clang and a shower of blue sparks, 
it rebounded off the wall, shock waves reverberating up her arms. 
  "You can't break it from inside", Lon said confidently. This was 
his turf, at least in theory, and he knew whereof he spoke. "And 
you can't tunnel under it", he added, as Brenhya began to 
investigate the apparent bottom of the dome. "It'll be a complete 
sphere, extending just as far underground as it does up here".
  Brannagh sat down on a log. "Then we's trapped".
  "Hush a minute, Brannagh". Brenhya made calming hand motions in 
the direction of the dwarf. "What else do you know, Lon?"
  "Only what I've said. It's an impenetrable psychic barrier, 
completely unbreakable from the inside. It could be broken from 
the outside, but that's not a lot of use to us, is it?"
  Brenhya looked thoughtful. "How difficult would it be, to break 
it from outside?"
  "That all depends on the strength of the mage that cast it. The 
more powerful the mage, the tougher the barrier. But it wouldn't 
be impossible". He let out a long sigh. "But what good is that to 
us? We can't do anything to the outside".
  Brenhya was staring upwards, tapping her nails against her teeth 
in a pensive manner. "Not necessarily", she muttered. 
  Almost in the centre of the bubble, about as thick around as 
Brenhya's waist, a tall ash tree grew. Some winged seeds, 
prematurely fallen, had landed on top of the dome, and sat there 
looking as if suspended in time. The tree actually grew up through 
the barrier, and extended above it some eight or ten feet.
  She called to her horse, grazing outside the barrier. Sound, it 
seemed, could pass through unimpeded. The mare walked toward her 
and met the resistance. There was no spark of electricity from 
that side, and the bubble appeared to give a little as the animal 
encountered it. She was not able to pass through, however.
  "What would happen", she mused, turning back to Lon. "What would 
happen if we could fell that tree?"
  "Well, it would have the effect of attacking the barrier from 
outside, of course. As the tree falls, it'll put pressure on the 
outside, The inside will try to keep it up, but because the 
outside is weaker, it'll shatter, eventually. But how're we going 
to fell ... ah! Brannagh's axe!"
  "Exactly", Brenhya said, looking expectantly at the dwarf, who 
rubbed his hands together at the prospect of being able to do 
something.
  "Rights!". He took his axe from its sling at his back, and 
approached the tree. He swung the blade with all the considerable 
strength of his compact body. A piece of bark with a tiny sliver 
of wood attached, was all that fell from the trunk. The wood was 
hard and seasoned.
  Again he swung, and again, and again. He kept on swinging for 
some minutes, but all he managed in that time was to remove a 
bite-sized wedge of timber.
  "'S no use", he complained, holding out his axe to Brenhya. "You 
'as a go. You is stronger'n I is".
  "No. This is going to take too long. It'll be light, soon, an we 
have to get going. Here". Taking her heavy sword, she began to 
plunge it into the ground around the base of the tree. "If we can 
loosen the roots, and perhaps even sever a few, we might be able 
to topple it. Give a hand, Brannagh".
  The dwarf willingly applied his axe to some of the thicker roots 
exposed by her digging. He chopped through some, and made a dent 
in others,
  "What shall I do?", Lon enquired.
  "Start packing up. And move everything over to that side, as 
close to the barrier as you can".
  The young man leapt to comply, and the warrior and dwarf 
continue hacking at the ground and roots for several minutes. 
Finally, Brenhya stood upright.
  "OK", she said. "That should do it. You two stand ready. As soon 
as it goes, grab everything and get out. I'll be right behind 
you".
  Lon and Brannagh looked at each other for a second. Then the 
young man shrugged his shoulders.
  "If Brenhya thinks she can do it ...", he began.
  "..'er kin do's it". 
  She stood with hands on hips, looking up at the tree, breathing 
deeply to force oxygen into her muscles. He lovely face was a 
picture of concentration as she became totally focussed on the 
task in hand. She laid a hand against the trunk and experimentally 
gave it a hard shove. High above, the thinner branches shuddered 
but the tree itself, for all they had loosened its roots, stood 
fast.
  She positioned her shoulder, protected by her stiff leather 
pauldron, against the ash and braced her feet. She wrapped her 
muscular arms around the bole and locked her strong hands 
together. The stupendous muscles of her thighs stood out in relief 
as they began gradually to take the strain, and her diamond 
shaped, sharp edged calf muscles bunched as her legs drove forward 
and upward. Sinuous, strap-like muscles in her arms and the 
powerful muscles of her back coiled and slid under her golden skin 
as she poured more and more power into her effort, lifting and 
pushing simultaneously.
  The tree shivered, small twigs and leaves falling from the upper 
branches to slide down the sides of the dome, but still the trunk 
remained immobile. Brenhya's beautiful face contorted into a 
grimace of effort as she threw everything she had into the battle. 
But one thing she had that the tree did not was and indomitable 
will and enormous determination. 
  He mighty legs pile-drove into the turf, tearing up big sods as 
she heaved, her tremendous strength pitted against the  
implacability of nature. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead 
and her breath rasped with effort, but still she continued to 
push.
  After several minutes of sustained and incremental effort, there 
was a small creak. By just an inch, the tree moved. A tiny puff of 
dust appeared among the roots. Encouraged, Brenhya found even more 
power from somewhere, and the tree gave a longer creak as it began 
to move. But she was not only heaving against the immovability of 
the tree, but also the strength of the psychic barrier which 
strove to maintain its own integrity in the face of her assault; 
this made her job doubly difficult.
  But once the bole began to move, once the remaining roots began 
to give up their tenacious grip, the outcome was inevitable. With 
a guttural roar, Brenhya poured almost inhuman strength into her 
final effort, and the ash began to topple.
  It's demise was delayed, as if falling through water, as the 
invisible shield strove to keep it up, and the powerful warrior 
woman was forced to continue her effort until the tree was close 
to horizontal. Then, with final surge and an explosion of soil as 
its roots were ripped from the earth, it gave up the unequal 
struggle and gave in to the strength of the woman. There was a 
noise like breaking glass as the invisible dome shattered, and the 
ordeal was over.
  Falling to hands and knees beside the knot of gnarled roots, 
Brenhya was close to collapse with exhaustion. Forgetting her 
orders to get away, her two friends rushed to her side. Between 
them, they dragged her from the area, well away from where the 
bubble had been, and laid her on a mossy bank. Lon knelt behind 
her, propping her up while she sucked in huge lungfuls of air, and 
Brannagh ran to grab their gear from where it had been left.
  Due to the tremendous recuperative powers endowed by her superb 
athleticism, Brenhya recovered her breath and much of her 
composure within a few minutes and with just a little help from 
Lon, hauled herself to her feet.
  "Are you all right", Lon asked solicitously. "OK to ride?"
  "Yes. I'm OK",
  "Didjer sees she?", Brannagh said, bustling up with their gear. 
"I's never seed nuffin' likes it!  If'n trees gets in she's way, 
'er jus' pushes 'em over!"
  "Yes, I did", Lon agreed. "But we have to get moving, and keep 
moving. Brenhya, the practitioner that cast this spell is not 
fully adept. I can tell that from the lack of strength in the 
outside of the barrier. At his or her level, that kind of spell 
can only contain us if we're still. As long as we keep moving, 
we'll be all right".
  Brenhya gave a whistle, and Maakar trotted over. "We better get 
going, then", she announced. "And everyone stay together".
  "Hmph!", Brannagh grunted, climbing onto his pony. "No rests 
from nows on".

  Amillie slumped back with a gasp from her position of intense 
concentration. V'Daa was at her side in an instant, although the 
look of concern on his face was not for her well-being.
  "What happened?"
  "They broke the barrier, Master".
  "Damn! What else can you do?"
  The woman sighed wearily. "I have some ideas".

  Brenhya, Lon, and Brannagh rode abreast along the trail. The 
woman, fully recovered but nonetheless tired from her stupendous 
effort, dozed in the saddle as the horses ambled along, setting 
their own pace. A stiff breeze had sprung up, and they all wore 
their travelling cloaks to protect them from the cold wind.
  The trail meandered through the woods, twisting this way and 
that, but always leading them toward their objective. Brenhya, in 
one of her waking moments, let Maakar pick her own way around one 
of the gentle curves. Something pricked her warrior's instinct 
and, instantly fully alert, she stood in her stirrups, eyes wide 
to detect any threat.
  "What's wrong, Brenhya?" Lon asked.
  "This wind", she replied. "It's not right".
  "Wassup wi' it?" Brannagh wanted to know.
  "It's always in our face", she explained. "No matter which way 
the trail turns, the wind is always in our face. Lon?"
  "I hadn't thought of it before, but you're right", the wizard 
agreed. "It could be a prelude to another psychic attack".
  "Well, we'd better stay alert. It's not too bad, just now, so 
we'll keep going. But stay sharp".
  The three rode on. Gradually, the wind grew in strength, blowing 
steadily, with none of the swirling gusts they associated with 
natural winds. They plodded on, their cloaks held over their 
faces. The horses put their heads down, anxious but steadfast in 
the face of the unknown, and closed their eyes against the gale. 
The humans were now forced to lie close on the backs of their 
mounts, to avoid being blown off backwards, the wind had become so 
strong.
  And now hailstones, blown horizontal and stinging where they 
impacted on bare or lightly covered flesh. The horses began to get 
skittish, and danced around as the hail grew in intensity and the 
stones themselves got bigger. Like some sort of ballistic weapon, 
the storm threw its white missiles in a continuous stream at the 
travellers.
  "Everybody behind me!" Lon shouted against the rising howl of 
the wind. "I think I can handle this".
  In the absence of any better idea, Brenhya and Brannagh fell in 
behind him. He raised himself erect, and began to chant, making 
complicated gestures in the air, face screwed up against the 
stinging hail.
  An invisible magical barrier, "V" shaped and about eight feet 
high, formed in front of them. The hail beat against it, and the 
wind screamed around and over it but, tucked in behind, the three 
were protected against the worst of the assault. From time to time 
it buckled slightly, and small holes appeared periodically, all 
testament to Lon's limited magical skills, but by and large it 
gave them adequate protection.
  Humans and horses huddled behind the shield, keeping their heads 
down to avoid stray hailstones and wind, and even managed to make 
some progress, until eventually the storm blew itself out. It came 
to a stop with an abruptness that was almost shocking, and the 
sudden silence was almost deafening.
  "Well done, Lon" Brenhya praised. The young wizard preened at 
the compliment.
  "Thank you", he smiled. "But really, it wasn't much. Just a 
variant on the barrier we were trapped in earlier. Not a 
sophisticated, though".
  "You's tellin' I it weren't fistcated", Brannagh complained. 
"More 'oles 'n a colander. Looks at this". He indicated a small 
bruise on his cheek where a hailstone, shot through one of the 
holes like an arrow. He prepared to levy more criticism, but a 
severe look from Brenhya changed his mind. "So, er, well dones, 
then. I supposes".

  Again, Amillie fell back in her chair, breathing heavily. So 
much magic in so short a time was taking it out of her.
  "Now what?", V'Daa demanded.
  "They're more resourceful than I gave them credit for, Lord. 
They've countered the storm, and we have slowed them hardly at 
all".
  "So?" The madman cared for her exhaustion not at all. "Do 
something else".
  She flinched mentally at his uncaring attitude. "I have another 
idea", she informed him. "But I must rest, first. I need to gather 
strength".
  V'Daa looked at her. His expression showed his frustration, and 
he glared at her intensely.           "Very well", he agreed with 
a sigh. "You may have one hour".