Arcana: Creatures

Battleflies

A Creature Story for Everway

by Mark Edwards
as inspired by Gerry Grace's art

"I ask you for weapons to arm my warband, and this is what you give me!" Ratcatcher was furious, so angry that Needle felt a shimmer of fear.

The raider and the mage stood on the edge of the waste, and the ancient remnants of carnage swept away from their view towards the horizon. Behind them was lush jungle, before them were leagues of dry bones intermingled with arms and armor.

"I promise you, Khan, that the weapons are in good order. The waste is dry, and there is little rust," said Needle. "Of course there are some minor problems..."

"Minor?" yelled Ratcatcher. "Minor? You call a curse a minor thing? The gods of war cursed this field centuries ago. To even touch these weapons is to die."

Needle's smile played across her thin lips. "To a mage of my skills, it is a minor thing. I have brought you your armaments, with which you can conquer this land. Armaments for an army of five thousand. For that you have paid me. Now for a reasonable price, I can remove the curse."

Ratcatcher had already given this woman a fortune, but she had always brought him luck, victory, and his warriors thought that they were undefeatable with her blessings.

"Name your price."

"I wish to rule beside you when you have conquered."

Ratcatcher bit back laughter. The sorceress was useful, but this price was arrogance. His tottering structure of alliances was held together by his promise to wed the daughter of Blueriver Khan as his queen. To have this woman rule beside him was impossible. He hadn't known Needle was so ambitious. Needle waited, guessing at Ratcatcher's thoughts. "Great Khan, that is my final price. As your wife and co-ruler, my powers would be at your behest. It is one thing to conquer a realm, another to hold it. My magic and advice would be most valuable."

Ratcatcher caught the implied threat--better to have my magic working for you than against you. "Done," he said.

"Once you have won your battle, we will begin to rule?" she asked.

"Before removing my armor or washing away the blood of the fighting, I will wed you," he answered.

Needle turned and approached the edge of the field. There were thousands of skeletons collapsed across the plane, thousands of pieces of armor and scattered weapons. Needle knew that each blade, each buckler, each helmet, was still cursed by the magical blight that had struck down this army. Four hundred years before, a mage, whose powers must have dwarfed Needle's, had ended a war with a dire magic.

She spoke one word. Ratcatcher Khan could not hear it, because it disappeared on the wind.

But something else had. The forest rustled behind him, a sound rising above the wind in the trees, like linen drying on a line in a gale.

And a cloud of them came. Butterflies, a dark fluttering mosaic of colors, turning day to dusk for a moment before they settled on the field. Each found a separate piece of bronze or steel, and sipped, as it would normally have drunk from a blossom.

The field lived for a moment as wings fluttered gently, and then as a mass they rose again. This time their sound had something of the hum of an angry storm, and the cloud seemed darker. They disappeared into the forest.

Ratcatcher turned to see Needle holding a sword out to him. He was wary at first, but took it.

"Believe me, Khan, if the metal were still cursed, I would have died in agony the moment I touched it. But the butterflies have taken the curse away."

"This is fine steel," said Ratcatcher, and then he swung. The blade was also very sharp. He stepped back to avoid the sudden blood.

He wiped the blade off on her cloak. If she had lived until the next battle had passed, he would have kept his deal. Now it was unnecessary. Rule with him? Not likely. Better his unambitious betrothed. Now to call his troops and arm them for victory.

He stood and felt a delicate touch on his sleeve. A small red butterfly had lighted there, the blue pattern on its back shaped like an axe. Was that a coincidence? A second lighted next to it, its yellow pattern shaped like a wall of spears. And he heard the angry hum again.

Ratcatcher looked up to see the dark cloud descending, and then his vision, and after much fuss, his breath, was cut off.

His officers found him later amidst the crushed bodies of the insects and Needle's blood. Ratcatcher's nephew led the army in the coming war. Lacking his uncle's ruthlessness and tactical skill, he was defeated, and Ratcatcher's clan was destroyed.

And that jungle still hums with bright colors and menace.

Battleflies copyright © 1999 Mark Edwards, used with permission.
Image by Gerry Grace copyright © 1995-2001 Gaslight Press. All rights reserved.