by David Adams
“We didn’t have a long term goal, if that’s what you mean. We were trying to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, and to fight back while we could. Everyone here understands we’re likely fighting a losing battle, and that a reckoning will come for each of us, sooner or later. Oddly, as difficult a task as you’ve set for yourselves, if you succeed… I guess there’d be hope for this world after all.”
“There is always hope,” Silas said.
“Sometimes that isn’t enough.”
“Sometimes it has to be.”
Yosh met his look for a moment, then gave in with a sigh. “I suppose you are right. Why else do we carry on, if we really believe we are doomed?” He then addressed the group as a whole. “We all have much to think about, and the hour grows late. Perhaps some rest will help us see the best path forward. Surely we can aid you, in one way or another.”
“We’d be grateful for it,” Darius said.
“We have a few spare tents. Thin, but better than nothing.”
They thanked him, and after they had been shown where they could rest they decided that they too might better discuss things after a decent night’s sleep. The small tents could hold two, so they paired up and said goodnight, each happy to know they weren’t the only one’s fighting against the power enveloping their world.
Darius struggled to find sleep, long days on the road driving an ache deep into his muscles that called attention to itself when he tried to be still. He heard Xanar’s soft, steady breathing, knew the elf had been asleep almost since his head touched the folded blanket he was using as a pillow. Darius was envious and happy for his friend at the same time. Quietly he got up and went outside.
The tent might have been thin, but along with the heat of their bodies it must have been doing a good job of keeping them warm, as the cold air outside was like a slap, bringing Darius fully awake. Through the trees above he could see the stars shimmering like blue jewels, and he took a deep breath, the air fresh and clean, invigorating. A few men were about, guards circling, a group roasting a small rabbit over a fire while conversing in whispers so as not to disturb those already asleep.
Darius moved to the edge of the camp, careful to make himself visible as one of the guards approached. “Just getting a bit of air,” he told him. “Having a hard time nodding off.”
“Not an uncommon problem. Don’t wander off too far, and make sure you identify yourself promptly when you come back. Don’t want any accidents.”
Darius fully intended to keep the camp in sight and had no interest in startling the guards, so he readily agreed. On a gentle rise he found a large, nearly flat stone where the trees weren’t so dense, and so he could sit and look up at the heavens. The stars seemed so tranquil, so peaceful, hanging there in the night sky as they always had. Darius reached out and closed his forefinger and thumb in front of his eye, giving himself the illusion that he was some god ready to pluck the star from the sky. As his fingers closed on nothing he laughed softly at himself. If only he was such a god…
He heard movement off to his right, his hand going immediately to the hilt of his sword. When he saw that it was Xanar he relaxed. “You can’t tell me you couldn’t sleep. I know better.”
“One of my many skills,” Xanar said with a shrug. “But I’m a light sleeper. After you’d been gone a while, I thought perhaps you might like some company.”
Darius indicated the rock he sat upon. “Plenty of room for two. Your rear end adapts to the cold, soon enough.”
Xanar sat down with a laugh. “You forget my heritage. My rear end might even warm the rock.”
Darius thought of a dozen replies but decided to let them remain unspoken. As the quips drifted off, his mood became one of contemplation once more. He knew Xanar was wondering what was on his mind, but his elf friend waited patiently rather than asking, knowing Darius would share if and when he was ready. After a time, Darius did so. “Sometimes I wonder about what we’re doing. Not the rightness of it, or whether we should reconsider for the sake of our own necks. It’s just…we aren’t heroes, at least I’m not.”
“Thanks for that last clarification. Up north they sing songs in my honor.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Darius said, matching his friends feigned seriousness. “But sometimes I think about who I am, what I’m doing… These are deeds for great men and women, the sort of which legends are born.”
“You know none of us were sent down from the heavens to win this fight.” He pondered his own words, then added, “Except maybe Silas. Barlow, certainly.”
Darius smiled, but said, “You shouldn’t joke about that. I have a lot of respect for them. They’re living what they believe, and risking all.”
“Joking’s what I do. But you know I respect them, too.”
“I know. And keep joking. It’s good for me. For all of us.”
For a time they both studied the stars in silence. After a while, Darius said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Yosh said, how he and all these men expect to die in the end.”
“He didn’t say that. He only said—”
“We both know that’s what he meant. I have that same feeling, deep inside, that we’re going against foes we can’t hope to defeat in the end. I’m not afraid of dying, but I’m afraid of failing, of all of us failing. If we do, our whole world will be left in ruin, and Luke…”
“Will have died for nothing, at least in your eyes.”
Darius nodded and looked heavenward once more.
“That’s too much to put on yourself,” Xanar said. “None of us can bear such a weight. We need to focus on the next task, the next day, the next minute if we have to, just to keep moving. No one can save the world, certainly not alone.”
Darius forced a smile, wanting to ease the heaviness of the conversation. “Good thing there’s two of us in that case. Saving half a world, no problem.”
Xanar clapped him on the back. “You might need to go for three-quarters. I can be a bit lazy. Speaking of which, I’m going to head back now. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep before the night passes.”
“I will,” Darius said as the elf headed back into the camp. He sighed and turned his face upward once more, while the tempest of his own thoughts washed over him like a storm-tossed sea.
* * *
At the same time Xanar ducked back into his tent, the men guarding the road intercepted a pair of travelers, one of their own and a stranger. The discussion was brief, and no challenge was offered. The stranger was escorted toward the camp, and arrived unannounced, a request his guide was eager to fulfill.
A short distance from the edge of the camp Praad called them to a halt. All around him the limbs of the trees were wilting, as if bowing to him, and under the thin layer of snow the dormant grass was turning to deeper shades of green and brown and even black. Where he stood for too long the grass would never recover, leaving a pair of barren spots as a memorial to his passage. He sniffed the air, could smell the fear, but it was something else that made him pause. He laughed quietly to himself, the pieces coming together beautifully. He ordered his escort to remain where he was and moved off a bit so he might be alone.
* * *
His musing over, Darius glumly went back toward the tent. Xanar’s visit had helped, but somehow his dour thoughts had swiftly returned, stronger than ever. He thought of Luke, thought of how they’d all likely soon join him in death. Who were they to take on such mighty, eternal beings?
* * *
“You’re sure?” Kaelesh asked, his pleasure apparent.
“Most definitely,” Praad answered his brother’s ghostly image. “Apparently the Dezku allowed them to leave the Auerl Forest undetected. I told you there was powerful magic there.”
“So you did, my brother,” Kaelesh replied. “So you did. No matter. They are far from such protection now, and the book is with them. This Yosh was not with them before, correct?”
“Correct. They seem to have added him and his men to their number. What are y
our wishes?”
“How well can you control the group? I’d like to have those that had the book and this Yosh brought before me, if possible. The others you can dispose of.”
“It won’t be a problem.”
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you again, my brother.”
“And I you. It won’t be long.” Praad moved through his brother’s image before it had dissipated and headed back toward the camp.
Chapter 12: Praad, Lord of Desolation
The four men were gathered around a low fire, their hunger suddenly forgotten, the scrawny rabbit they had taken starting to char over the flames. They did not speak to one another, but to a man they knew beyond a doubt that the strangers in the camp were enemies. The fact that such obvious foes could come right into their own camp and be welcome made them wonder about Yosh as well. He had seemed to have a heart for things that mattered, but in truth where had he led them? To despair, a life on the run, and for many, to death. The four did not know what they would do come the new day, but for now their path was so apparent that it was a wonder they could have missed it. They exchanged nods, not needing words, and moved on the strangers.
Silas and Barlow were taken completely by surprise. They had each drifted off to a light sleep, telling themselves they were among friends but knowing these men were still strangers. They awakened at each out-of-place sound or odd noise, especially any footsteps headed toward their tent, and they slept with their weapons by their sides. But the last few minutes their sleep had deepened considerably, as if a dense fog had settled over them, and when the four soldiers came for them they had lost any potential advantage and their weapons as well.
They were pushed from their tent and easily prodded along. Past the initial rush of adrenaline now, they had little thought to resist, although some small voice inside cried out for them to fight now, while there was time. But the swords pressing into the small of their backs pushed such notions into ever deeper recesses. Adrianna, Xanar, and Uesra were being treated likewise, and although there was no sign of Darius, his non-presence was taken as little more than an trivial oddity by the two men, rather than a reason for hope.
In fact, Darius was heading their way on his own, his head down, his thoughts of Luke and of what might have become of Sasha, a parade of ugly images. Death seemed close and he didn’t fear it. Rather, he welcomed it as a relief from suffering. Something had called him back to the camp, to fall into step with the others, and he obeyed.
Adrianna, like Darius, was of no mind to fight back against those moving her into the center of the camp. However, Uesra and Xanar, while obeying unspoken commands for now, were neither feeling hopeless nor were they defenseless. While neither could escape their tents without being taken, they were alert to the danger in time, and both had managed to grab their weapons. For some reason they had not been forced to relinquish them, and so they allowed themselves to be herded along, to see what might happen next.
For the most part weapons were of no concern to Praad. Although more than capable of dealing out and dealing with physical attacks, he preferred to assault the mind, and this camp was little different than the cities and towns he had visited of late in regards to the ease with which he could push people to do his bidding, to see the utter futility of resistance. But he made a rare exception here, for the sword carried by the man known as Barlow frightened him, and so he ordered it taken before anything else transpired. This accomplished, he felt firmly in control.
In the darkness the auras cast by the people and items of import in the camp were especially brilliant to Praad, although most were unexceptional. The two holy men he had encountered earlier, so their white auras weren’t new to him. He scanned the approaching men for some sign that Yosh was special in some way, but could not pick him out based on his aura alone. Gabriel, however, he had no trouble spotting, and he squinted against it and shifted his sight back to the normal visual spectrum. “Get that thing behind me,” he hissed to the man nearest him, “and wrap it in cloth. I don’t want to see it again.”
Uesra struggled to make out what was happening. They had been betrayed, it seemed, but they were being marched from the camp now, and had yet to be ordered to do anything except leave their tents and move along. She decided to risk a whisper to Adrianna. “What do you make of this?”
“Does it matter?” Adrianna replied, her voice flat. She stared ahead while she talked. “It seems we find enemies everywhere we turn.”
Uesra noticed the odd tone in her voice, but though it might be due to being awoken in the middle of the night. “Have you seen Yosh?”
Adrianna shrugged. “Why?”
“Because I’m not sure this is his doing.” She started looking around, and even in the dark was eventually able to spot Yosh. She did not notice that Adrianna had not joined in the search, nor would the sorceress even bother to turn her head when Uesra said, “There he is, and under guard, like us. Now the question is: Who is behind this?”
They cleared the camp and started back toward the road with the question still unanswered. Uesra saw Barlow and Silas, and noted they were without their weapons and very well guarded. Xanar, however, had his bow and only two guards near him. “Prepare a distraction, if we need it,” she said to Adrianna. “I’m going to see if I can reach Xanar.” Slowly she inched her way to the left, and Xanar, acknowledging her, came to the right. The guards did not seem to mind. Adrianna marched ahead with heavy, plodding steps, struggling to muster the concentration needed to prepare any magic.
Praad had had Yosh pointed out to him, and had been somewhat disappointed. He probed his mind and felt little in the way of resistance—more than his men, but not by much—and realized he would be no challenge to control. At least, Praad thought, he would be able to deliver him to Kaelesh. Perhaps he might provide some sport then. He slid behind a row of trees and into the now-empty camp, the dark aura of the book easily detectable. He flipped open the tent flap and pulled it from a pack, fingering it gently, like a priceless treasure lost and now found. Seeing nothing else of interest he made his way back to flank the line of prisoners marching toward the Coast Road. He congratulated himself on his work this night: the book, the sword, and almost forty self-styled rebels, some of whom he now had guarding the others, unaware that they too were under his power. He wished his brothers were here to witness this, but they’d see soon enough. Orgoth would have returned only with their heads, and while such direct methods were often useful, his way was so much more satisfying.
Neither Uesra nor Xanar had missed the shadowy figure in the trees moving back toward the camp. When he returned, still utilizing the cover of the wood, they could see he had taken a prize, and they thought they knew what it was. They raised their hoods to conceal their faces and make it a bit easier to speak.
“Think he’s the leader?” Xanar whispered.
“Might just be a runner,” she replied. “But either way, he bears investigating. You have my back?”
“As always.”
Again she subtly veered left, and the men guarding her dutifully followed.
Uesra kept her head bowed, trying to maintain the image of a despondent, helpless prisoner. But with her hood up she was able to keep her eyes steadfastly on her target without it being noticed. As she angled away from the others, she kept expecting to be prodded back, but the nudge was long in coming. Ahead the shadowy figure finally halted, and the gap between them started to vanish. As she neared she could see the figure wore a dark cloak and hood, just as she did, and that his or her face was equally hidden. The figure appeared to be watching the passing parade of guards and prisoners, and the man next to him did the same, but also took several quick, sidelong glances at the hooded figure. Of the two, there was no doubt as to which was the superior.
Uesra passed within ten feet of the mysterious figure, but even with her elven sight she could not penetrate the darkness concealing his face. She gave an involuntary shiver as she passed, as if the figure radiated a pene
trating cold far more deadly than anything the northern winter could dish out. She had to fight off the urge to fully turn and face him, or to flee.
Uesra made her way back to her brother. “I think he’s the leader. And he does have the book. I saw him tuck it under his cloak. We have to act before he wonders off with it.”
“Numbers aren’t real good,” he pointed out.
“Never are. See if you can get Adrianna to create a distraction. I want to stay close so I can move when the time comes.”
“Got it.”
“Make it soon,” she said as she prepared to drift away again, “before we reach the road. There may be others waiting there.”
“He’s moving with us,” Xanar told her, taking advantage of the line of sight their conversation gave him. “One guard with him.”
“And the two with me,” she added. “Might be possible, but I’d prefer to have them lose their focus for a moment.”
“I’m on it. What about the others?”
“Hopefully they’ll act when they get the chance.”
Xanar couldn’t see the road yet, but he felt they were closing on it all the same. He angled toward Adrianna more directly than he wanted, but his guards seemed not to care. He wondered what they’d do if he made a break, but now wasn’t the time to test it. “We need a distraction,” he told her. “What can you do?”
“Not much,” she replied.
As much as Xanar liked a bit of self-deprecating humor, now was clearly not the time for it. “I’m serious.”
She shivered and shook her head, trying to clear her mind. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Hard to concentrate.”
“It’s sort of important.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I’ll try.”
He let her work, and as the seconds passed his eyes kept searching forward, the looming road pressing on his thoughts.
Just as Xanar was ready to give up and ask what the problem was, Adrianna managed to cast a spell. She went with the first she had learned, but the fireball she cast was weaker than even that feeble attempt so many years ago. She directed it upward, and it seemed less a ball of flame than a simple light, easily snuffed out.
