Episode 4: The Swarm

Gundar's hands clenched spasmodically. Could he survive the onslaught without a weapon? And even if he did, how could he live with the shame of letting others defend him?

Arestasis stood tranquilly, green eyes unblinking, rocking gently with the rhythm of the waves underfoot. Gundar stared back, trying to read the heart of the man. What kind of master would he be? Lexa seemed easy enough with him, but she had been Arestasis' pupil for long enough to know exactly how far she could try him. Furthermore, it was unlikely that she had ever treated him with the gross disrespect that Gundar had shown the beggar Tasso. Would Arestasis take advantage of the opportunity to exact revenge?

"I will bind myself to you for three days," Gundar offered.

Arestasis' face did not change. "You will have to do better than that."

Gundar searched the depth of the mage's eyes. Was is merely his hopeful imagination, or had a twinkle appeared?

"Come, my boy. What price do you put on your life and honour?"

"A year and a day," Gundar said hoarsely. "I will pledge myself to you for a year and a day." He fell to one knee and bowed his head.

"Done," the mage said, holding out his left hand and hauling Gundar to his feet. "We will dispense with the formalities for now. Choose your blade."

Before Gundar had time to ask what blades he meant, a pair of swords appeared in the mage's right hand -- one that appeared to be constructed of clear glass, and the other a slender two-edged blade that shone silver, with a dark blue hilt.

"This one is more like what I am used to," Gundar said, taking the silver one. It felt weightless in his hand. His heart sank. How could they do battle with such toys?

"Fear not," Arestasis said, releasing his hand. "You will find this blade cuts as deeply as any you have wielded." He pulled a dagger from his belt and offered it to Gundar. "Perhaps this is more to your liking."

"Thank you." White-knuckled, Gundar gripped his weapons while the chittering swarm closed in. The eagle's scream from above informed him that Lexa had already engaged the enemy. "Back to back?" he asked his companion.

"Back to back. Keep your head and pace yourself. It will seem that there is no end to them, but we must endure."

Gundar nodded grimly and turned away just in time to impale the first of the attackers on his blade.

The iccubata, who were the approximate size of Gundar's forearm, had the appearance of misshapen men covered with brown leathery skin. Their featherless wings were equipped with a flexible network of sinews and bones which lent them astounding agility. Their arms and legs ended in a prehensile hand with four fingers and a long thumb tipped with nails that resembled the claws of a chicken, not razor-sharp but capable of inflicting painful scratches. Their hairless heads reminded Gundar of bats' faces, with tiny teeth that ripped easily through clothing and skin. When he sliced through their bodies, they did not bleed. Instead, viscous yellow fluid oozed and slimed over everything, prompting Gundar to gag from the stench, which was infinitely worse than that of a decomposing horse carcass.

Remembering Arestasis' admonition to pace himself, he fought down his panic and kept cutting steadily with both hands, ignoring the scratches and bites. He could no longer see the sky or the sea or even the deck of the Lili. His entire universe was reduced of a tangle of brown bodies, putrid ichor, and eager teeth.

Just as Gundar's arms grew so heavy from the strain that he thought he could do no more, Orestes and Lexa came sweeping through the brown cloud that surrounded the boat, momentarily disorienting the iccubata. Gundar raised a war cry and brandished his sword in a salute to the valiant basilea, while her conquered enemies dropped into the waves like rain.

A goodly portion of Gundar's foes veered off after the warrior eagle, which flapped its wings mightily and flew off, keeping just out of their reach while Lexa kept busy dispatching the creatures which were clinging to its body. Heartened, Gundar returned to the slaughter.

His movements became mechanical, and his mind retreated from his body, leaving behind the pain and fatigue. He was flying through the clouds, back to his homeland, his horses, his precious Lili. His father Baldur, wearing the robes and crown of high king, was presiding over the marriage of his youngest son to the red-headed Lili, daughter of Muktar. Her wild curls tumbled over his face as he kissed her, tasting the sweetness of her lips and her tongue in anticipation of their night of consummation, while the honour guard of warriors beat their shields with their swords.

His imagination wandered further into the future, to the sons they would bear and war-craft he would teach them, to the hunts, the feasts, the weddings, and the grandchildren. Finally, he felt the weakness of old age and approaching death, and realized that his time was almost spent. He came to himself again on the boat, leaning back against the mage, barely able to lift a finger. Yet, somehow, the sword continued in its dance and the dagger wove in and out, turning the horrid creatures into slack-jawed carrion which piled higher and higher until it seemed that the boat must sink under the weight.

Was he only imagining it, or was the horrid cloud becoming less dense? It no longer mattered. Come death or glory, he would show his new master that he was a worthy vassal.