In the shade of the lookout boulder and adjacent foliage I peeled off my black dustcoat and rolled up my sleeve nearly to the elbow.
What a terrible waste
It was just after midmorning on a golden autumn day, but I would be unable to appreciate its full splendor. I drew my small knife and laid the cutting edge against the alabaster underside of my wrist.
Wish it didn't have to be this way
I took one firm, deft stroke across my arm with the knife. It made a sching and a streak of iron across my stone skin.
I hate working weekends! Why did he have to show up today?
"What is it you're looking for, Rustiven?" I asked him. Rustiven was standing on top of the lookout boulder, where the view of the other peaks is magnificent, with the benefit that it is possible to see a great deal of the road without being seen. However, at this time of day, that part of the boulder was in full sun, and Rustiven always wears a huge, dark, cowled cloak; therefore this morning he was preoccupied indeed.
"A rumor," he muttered, squinting off into the distance throught my spyglass, and forgetting to say more. I paused to scrub the steeldust off my arm, waiting expectantly for a lengthy elaboration. The man was a born hypnotist, with a voice meant for a background drone and little detectably personality, and when all was routine I usually had an even stream of his substanceless blather trickling in one and out the other of my delicately pointed ears. At this moment, all his attention was poured through my spyglass; therefore this morning he was preoccupied indeed. I put away my small knife and waited....
"Aha! It's them!" he exclaimed with uncharacteristic vigor. "Ana, quickly, you must see this!"
I jumped up beside him and took back my spyglass. He grabbed my shoulder in his excitement.
"There," he breathed, pointing. "You see them? A party of four - "
"Yes," I squinted. They were hard to miss, dressed more brightly than the leaves would ever be this year, in red, blue, and yellow - obviously city folk. Two of them wore white, one considerably stained by weather and travel ... the other was apparently hyperactive.
"The smallest one," Rustiven was telling me, "is Princess Amelia of Sailloon; she must be taken alive and unharmed - "
"What for? Ransom?" I asked, adjusting the focus.
"Of course not - but there's bound to be a nice gratuity from her father, upon her safe return.... It's her companions my grudge is against." I handed him the spyglass, and he peered through it again. "The tallest one is a mercenary; I think you'd enjoy that king of challenge.... What in hell are they looking at? Did you leave body parts by the roadside again?"
"Just some troll skulls ... I thought they'd help keep the buggers away from the road," I explained mildly, and Rustiven gave me The Look.
"We'll have a discussion about that later," he promised darkly, and took one last squint at our target. "For now ... how about this: I'll take out the women, and you take out the men," he offered, and handed back the spyglass. He knew I wasn't good at taking prisoners. I permitted myself a small, slightly feral smile.
"That sounds perfectly fair," I told him, and went back to my shady spot.
"Get ready, they'll be here in just a few minutes," Rustiven warned.
I put on my coat, collected my staff, and sat down to wait. It was really a splendid morning; the last of the low-lying mist, transmuted into a dust-fine atmospheric haze, glowed like fairy-dust where the tree-filtered sunbeams fell. Something rare and shiny caught my eye: a late dragonfly, lit on a nearby stone.
Now, even a very strong talent of Beastmastery is not of much use without skill, and even with skill, I could not resist a moment of practice. With casual subtlety, I extended a smokelike wisp of mastery toward the dragonfly. Insects are difficult to handle individually, because what passes for their minds is so small, primitive and fragile, but it could be said that I have mastered my mastery - and presently the dragonfly stirred itself to drift in my direction and settle on my knuckles. It looked so beautifully lethal....
I heard Rustiven call attention to himself - still standing on the boulder - from the road, and I concluded that the city folk had arrived. It was a nearly formal spiel he was giving, but not the kind I'd come to expect from him. This is what I heard through my Automatic Rustiven Filter:
"Halt, villains! Blah blah blah, blah blah owe you a small debt. (Pause for reaction) Blah blah blah blah vengeance - blah blah, blah blah blah blah my brother Vrumugun - blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah so brutally murdered him in Sairaag. Blah blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah my duty to blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah is exempt from my wrath and will be escorted safely home. (Pause)"
My ears pricked up (further than they are already pricked). I was unaware that Rustiven had had a brother.... One of the city folk, a woman, was responding with an idea I couldn't quite make out - apparently Rustiven's brother had been killed ... more than once? How was that possible? I let go the dragonfly and pulled on the deep hood of my coat. Everything about this confrontation was rapidly growing Interesting - except, naturally, Rustiven:
"Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah, blah of no account - blah blah blah blah blah pay for your misdeeds - "
One of the male city folk interrupted with an argument I had to strain to hear, since his voice was quieter than Rustiven's, and at a lower pitch: he advocated that Rustiven's brother had been a victim of occupational hazard. Rustiven's patience ran out:
"Blah blah blah, blah blah - Vrumugun will be avenged! Ana! Take this creature out of my way!"
That was my cue. I picked up my staff and a small stone and paced around to the front of the boulder, where I assumed the expected Position (but not the Posture) of Confrontation. Then I dropped my hood back, the better to throw my opponent off-guard as I sized him up -
!!!!!!!!!!!
This man - he looked - like me! .... Except that his mouth had fallen open in disbelief. The expressions on the three behind him were considerably more extravagant. Rustiven could have knocked us all down with a feather - except for the princess of Sailloon, who had already fallen down by herself.
"Impossible!" he said. I don't remember my own reaction; I was assessing his characteristics with desperate haste. It was highly likely that we were a match for speed and strength; that would leave the battle to skill. He was a right-handed-swordsman, but he hadn't drawn his weapon yet, perhaps remembering the ineffectiveness of a blade against stone skin. At first, I seemed to have the advantage with my staff....
He had reasonably tasteful fashion sense - but if he knew how to use the red mage-stone on his chest, I was already beaten (I have a similar stone on my belt, but I got it off a bandit who didn't know how to use it either). I supposed I had a chance, if I could distract him with birds, or get him in the eye somehow ... how could he see, with his hair in his face like that? But then, I manage just fine.... I lost my train of thought completely and just stared for a moment. His ears were set lower than mine, and there was more stone to his face ... and he was staring back in just the same manner....
After about five mesmeric heartbeats in all, I snapped out of it.
"This is - a futile engagement!" I alerted Rustiven over my shoulder. "It's an even match!"
"What's futile is disputing my judgement!" Rustiven snapped, in a voice he nearly never used. "Get on with it!"
I winced, I'm afraid, and turned back to my curious opponent. We circled hesitantly. Something was ringing in the back of my head, as if it were made of glass. The first move was meant for me, and this man had the posture of an experienced fighter, but he still hadn't drawn his sword yet; he just gripped it.
Probably planning to break my staff with it, and go hand-to-hand Unless he was a sorceror. It was already bad enough that the weak points of his human shape were armored in stone.... Now we circled anxiously....
"Well?" I prompted.
"It's your move," he reminded me.
"Hmmm.... "
It was at that point that Rustiven lost it completely.
"Damn you both!!" he snarled (in a voice I'd never heard before), and hurled a mega-bolt from the top of the boulder. [The mega-bolt, I should explain, was his own original spell; simply a ball-lightning form of digger bolt.]
Whatever had been ringing in the back of my skull, shattered completely.
"No, you don't," I muttered sharply, interposing myself very swiftly between my counterpart and the mega-bolt. I batted it precisely with the end of my staff, making it detonate prematurely (and blow half of the rod all to splinters). Then I jumped above the shock wave, and the next events take place over the space of a heartbeat and a half. To me it seemed more like a minute and a half, since I was operating in the super-accelerated state of blur-speed.
Above the shock wave of splinters and static electricity, I flung the stone at Rustiven. Now, I'd always been as accurate with a stone as with a throwing knife, but I think my aim was off because I'd never practiced in midair, so I struck him though the shoulder instead of the head or heart. I perceived my error immediately, drew my small knife and waited, hurtling through the thick, syrupy air, for the range I needed to execute a quick grab-and-stab motion ... the distance closed.... Too late, I saw his right hand illuminate - my fingers brushed the front of his cloak -
And he slammed a Blam Blazer into my chest at immediate range.
I went off for a while to a grey place I don't remember well....