Silverkin

“My mother was a Shae. But I am a Zerite. I have no weapons.”


Someone tugged at the Druid medallion and bent him forward. “We don’t need the Zerites any more, do we Mordon? Not with the Root. Where are you from, boy?”

“I was sent by the Druids of Isherwood. I am on my way to Landmoor.”

Someone snorted and the pain in his shoulder increased. “I don’t think so, priest. We don’t need the Zerites.”

“The dying never say that,” Exeres whispered. He bowed his head and drew in a little of the Earth magic to ease his pain. It welled up inside him, sparking sharp flavors and colors in his mind. The pain ebbed.

“What have you seen coming down from Isherwood, boy?”

“We are not spies,” Exeres replied. “I am here to comfort the sick and ease the suffering.”

“I asked you a question, boy.”

Exeres was dumbfounded at the man’s audacity. His mouth went dry. “I am here to comfort the sick and ease the suff…”

A knife went to his throat and he felt its edge slide across his skin.

“Last chance, boy.”

The man was right. An arrow whistled from the woods and struck the soldier in the throat, from the sound of it. Exeres inhaled the Earth magic, drawing it into him like he had with the fire. The thrill of it exploded in his heart, but he tamed it quickly, focusing his mind not on enjoying it but on using it. He brought his arms around and together, infused with the strength of the stones and trees. The men holding him were powerless to stop him. Another arrow whistled from the woods and brought a second man down.

“Over there! Behind that one! It’s Devers!”

Exeres was not sure who they were referring to. Reaching down, he felt on the ground for his walnut-wood staff and grasped it tightly. Coming up in a low stance, he swung it around and hammered a man in the lower back with it—right where one of his kidneys would be. He let the Earth magic be his eyes as he had always done. Dodging to his left, he felt a sword whoosh by his ear and brought the stick up to the man’s armpit, along a certain line of sensitivity running along the arm. It would cause an immense amount of pain. Exeres did not fight to kill. He never did. But he knew right where to hit a man to bring him to his knees and take the fight out of him.

The sound of horses charging rushed through the woods as more soldiers joined the scene. Exeres brought another soldier down with a well-placed blow to his temple and summoned the Earth magic in a wash to frighten away the horses. He caused the air to smell of danger and fire and soon the animals were panicking and struggling against their riders. In his mind’s eye, he could see another Kiran Thall go down, an arrow in his chest. He hated death in all its forms, but he accepted it as the natural order of the world. A brief spark of Life magic snuffed out, never to rise again. Exeres’ staff snapped as he struck another man and so he tossed the weapon aside, using his hands next. His blindness had sharpened his other senses. He could hear on his blind side and know danger coming. Drawing in more of the magic, he felt his strength bloom. He grabbed a soldier’s arm, took the man off his feet and flipped him upside down before letting him fall. The snort and whine of startled horses echoed through the trees only slightly louder than the wailing of men.

A last arrow whooshed nearby, and someone collapsed while trying to flee.

Exeres rubbed and blinked the dirt from his good eye before tugging the patch securely in place. He looked around and saw the members of the Kiran Thall sprawled around the area. It saddened him, but he had not chosen to start the conflict. One of the soldiers writhed with pain, the arrow in his lower back. Exeres hurried over to the man and rested his palm on the man’s shoulder.

“Hold still. You’re only wounded.”

The man had blood coming out of his mouth, but he writhed at his belt, trying to reach a wineskin or a pouch.

“Hold still. I’ll heal you.”

Steps approached and a hand clamped down on Exeres’ shoulder. “He’ll live, lad. Trust me. Better run while we can.”

Exeres cocked his head and looked up at the man holding a longbow. He was a rugged-looking fellow with a short beard with flecks of gray. His woodsman garb had a different style than any custom or pattern that he was familiar with. A broad sword was belted to his side. He had brought down half a company of Kiran Thall by himself. Exeres had seen the Kiran Thall kill before.

“I appreciate your help, sir,” Exeres replied and turned back to the wounded man. “But I’m a healer. I must…” Something caught his attention. A smell…a sharp bittersweet smell. A cloying smell. He looked up and saw one of the dead Kiran Thall sit up and shake himself off. It was the man who had taken the arrow in the throat. The smell of Earth magic grew thicker.

Other soldiers started twitching, and for the first time, fear began seeping into Exeres’ stomach.