by BJ Hanlon
He sighed and stood from the small wooden stool. The old man ambled back toward the door without looking back. A single knock and it opened.
Edin closed his eyes and leaned forward. At least he was seated. He knew, the longer he was down here, the weaker he’d be. Fighting the wan stone’s power was like lifting a boulder.
The torch went out and he was left in darkness. Another dungeon.
He’d have to get out and soon. The dematians may have been halted across the north. It was possible, but they’d be coming eventually. They were swarming like bees whose hive had been rattled. Edin had rattled it and he was certain they’d try to come after him and his friends.
Edin tried to shut off his mind, but in the dark all he saw was Arianne falling. The gap that opened and swallowed her like a shark snatching an unknowing gull.
Later he heard more boot steps. The door swung open and a guard entered, he walked to Edin, pulled his head back by his hair and poured water down his throat nearly drowning him.
The man left and slammed the door. Not uttering a single word.
There were voices outside in the darkness. Muted by the door still and he thought he could hear Dorset. The hangover had gone completely, or at least it was subdued behind the rest of his aching body.
He tried to listen to whomever was out there. The boisterous baron definitely was. Edin heard a laugh and a loud shriek.
No words made it to him.
A few minutes later—at least he thought so, though Edin couldn’t be sure he didn’t pass out—his door opened again. The torch was blinding and large, shadowed figures entered. Edin’s chain was removed from the wall and hoisted up to a latch on the ceiling. A large gorilla of a man stood before him.
“He keeps talking of dematians,” Baron Tolson said. “So does the dying man. Do not give me the same lie or you’ll be in the same pain.”
Despite the water, Edin’s lips were dry and cracked. He barely could wet them when a fist struck his kidney.
Exploding white pain flashed before his eyes and he swung like a man on a noose. Edin grunted then clenched his teeth.
“Give him the root,” the baron said.
Edin’s mouth was forced open and a slimy, slug like object was forced into his mouth. A moment later, water was forced in as well and his jaw was held shut.
Edin hung for a few uneasy minutes, the root had slithered down and he was beginning to feel like he’d just spun in circles for an hour.
“That better?” A voice echoed in his head with the reverberation of a cathedral during mass.
Edin opened his eyes and saw the room was swaying. There were multiple men now and his tongue felt like it’d swollen in his mouth.
“The Por Fen are coming from Glustown. It is barely two days, even in the snow.” The words came from all around him, but Edin was sure none of the men even opened their mouths.
“When they get here to execute you, I want to present them with your purpose. Of course, the mythical Island of Mists could be your destination. But that’s a legend of course.”
“You like to talk…” Edin whispered, his voice cracked and too loud in his head.
A meaty slapping sound came from somewhere. Then a moment later, he felt the pain in his gut.
“What is your name?”
“Edin,” he said quickly. Too quickly, why did it come out so fast.
“I want to know what will you tell the Por Fen when they rip your limbs off? It will be much easier than now. The root will help. It loosens the tongue. Tell me, where are there more magi?”
Dorset… his friends name was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say it, then he didn’t. “The Isle…”
Another smack and pain, this time in his ribs. Edin’s eyes rolled back and he saw light flickering in his mind.
“There’s no such thing. It’s a lie. Abominations living together in peace. That is not real, could never be real.”
Edin’s head lolled back and he looked around again. He could only see two men now, but they shimmered like mirages. The gorilla and the weasel. “Were you not summoned to Ashtol’s side? He must not trust you..”
“Why are you here?”
“Running…” Edin said, the word was out before he even thought of it.
“From what? You came from the west with a savage. Did you slay his people? Did you slay one of his warring neighbors?”
“No…” Edin said.
“Do not tell me dematians…”
“Dematians,” Edin said.
Another spout of pain, but it didn’t hurt as much. The world was growing darker as if a hood was being pulled down over his eyes.
“There are no such things. How many people have you murdered?”
Edin blinked. His mind was wafting, his brain was numb like his body. “A lot…”
Another voice came in. “He’s fading.”
His stomach growled, but even that hurt. Everything was sore. He smacked dry lips and tasted more blood. He was seated again, his arms lanced above his head.
For a few minutes, his mind seemed to dance in the fog of whatever had happened. Edin couldn’t remember.
He tried opening his eyes and they screamed. There was a soft light beyond it and something else… another presence was near him.
Slowly, he remembered being chained to the wall, he remembered someone shoving something in his mouth then nothing.
“The dematians…” a voice said from behind the bright torchlight. It was slow and raspy and didn’t have the same accent as the Coldwater folks. “I have seen them.”
Edin couldn’t turn his head.
“It was in my youth, many years hence and there were only two.”
“Water…” Edin whispered trying to smack his lips. A moment later, there was movement and he heard a soft splash.
A warm, wooden cup was pressed against his mouth and water poured down his throat. It was warm and metallic but it helped.
“Thank you.”
“Tell me boy, how many dematians?”
“Thousands…” Edin said.
“And the earth mage crushed them with the mountains… is that right?”
Edin looked up and saw an old man above him. He wore a brown cloak, much like Master Horston’s. His white hair was almost translucent in the fire light and his eyes were hidden in the shadows.
They knew about Dorset. So much for hoping the scholar would somehow help them escape with his talent.
“My friends…” Edin said.
The old man sighed. “They live, though the big one is close to death. I am trying my best to save his life.”
There was a pause and the old man brought the cup back to Edin’s lips. Edin somehow got the feeling that there was a guard standing outside of the door and listening to their conversation. At this point, Edin had nothing to hide except that he could still use the talent.
“And the earth mage?”
“He is in bad shape as well. The Isle of Mists, are real as far as I’m concerned. There are far too many tales of the misty waters in the cursed sea.”
Edin didn’t know what to say so he stayed quiet.
“What is your purpose here?”
“Passing through.”
“It’d be better for you if you didn’t bring that… man.”
He was talking about Yechill, a good man and a good guide. Though at least the old guy didn’t say the word so oft used by these people.
“We were desperate, we lost much of our gear and…” Edin saw Arianne again and felt tears welling. He didn’t have the water to spare, but they could not be stopped.
“Your woman, the one who claimed to be the actual daughter of the mad king.” The old man sighed and shook his head. “That seems too farfetched even for me. You may have believed she was who she said she was, but I assure you the female wind mage was not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Edin said and it didn’t. The one person he truly had cared about in the world was gone. “She’s dead.”
“Callous.”
“It’s the truth,” Edin said, “I cannot save her anymore… but I can help others. I can help save humanity from these demons. And they are coming. I believe they’ve already swept over much of Porinstol.”
“How do you know this?” The cup was pressed to his lips again and Edin drank more. His sere throat was loosening.
“A vision of prophecy...”
“But more are in the north. Tell me about this artifact you were looking for in the Hietcha Lake?”
Edin motioned for more water and the man provided it. “I cannot, I was told by the seer of the Foci that there was something hidden there… but the dematians beat us to it. It seemed to hold a power I couldn’t contend with.”
There were footsteps beyond the door and the old man glanced over his shoulder at it. Edin saw the small looking window was open.
“I helped raise the baron and will speak with him. He is not unreasonable.”
The old man left but the light stayed.
Edin was unsure of how long he’d been trapped again in the dungeons but eventually, someone brought food.
It was a small woman with a pair of thick guards behind her. They pointed swords at Edin as he ate.
Edin ate with his hands. It was some sort of nasty, dry meat, overcooked potatoes and mushy carrots that were somehow frozen in the center. But it was food.
They locked him back up and he waited. Each hour that passed, Edin grew more and more sure that the old man didn’t get through to the baron. That Edin had to escape and soon.
He wasn’t sure how long it’d been, probably a very long time before the soft sounds of bells rang from above. It roused him from a weird half-awake dream.
It was a tower on the edge of a cliff, he thought it was the Reaches tower, still crumbled from the attack by the Por Fen. But instead of a dirt road he was traversing, he was walking a stone path on a thin peninsula high above a dark blue water.
The tower was stone and the top looked to have crumbled off. There were small white birds circling above the tower and squawking like vultures above a dying animal. The ruins grew and he saw that there were the outlines of other structures. Stones of some long-ago building foundation led to the tower.
He stepped over one mound and got a chill that wasn’t from the air. He was being watched.
Then Edin jerked fully awake, he heard shouts from above, screams of terror, and much movement. Someone ran down the corridor, it didn’t sound like a soldier and he heard the key slide into the door.
With his hands tied above his head, he couldn’t stand. Not unless he broke his arms free which would take a lot of energy.
The old man appeared, he ran to Edin’s shackles and with the deftness of a much younger person, slid the key in quickly and took them off.
Edin nearly tumbled to the side but the old man caught him.
“They’re here,” he said. There was a fear and an abruptness to his voice. In just those words, he knew who they were.
The old man tried to help Edin stand, but despite his quickness, he couldn’t lift him. “We need you up and fighting.”
“Give me time…” Edin said. “Where’re my friends?”
“The big man is in the hospital. The other one is across the hall some ways.”
“Free him.”
The man nodded and ran.
Edin laid his cheek against the cold dirty floor and breathed. He tasted dirt that caked his lips. He could barely move. How could he even hope to help these people? Did he even want to?
He heard Dorset’s voice, faint and weak. His friends were dying and if the dematians over ran the place, there’d be nowhere to go.
Awkward footsteps approached him.
“Edin…” Dorset gasped and stumbled forward. “Are you hurt?”
Edin snorted a laugh, “only all over.”
Dorset reached down and took the wan stone necklace from Edin’s head. “We need to get out… the dematians are coming.”
“You need to help save the town,” the old man said. “Everyone I know will be slaughtered.”
Edin looked up at him. “How many…” he gargled.
“No idea, a thousand maybe…”
Edin pushed his hands to the dirt floor and lifted himself. “Can you heal me?”
Dorset looked grim and partially angry as if Edin was asking too much. “I haven’t the energy… maybe after a day of rest in a bed.”
“My sword,” Edin said as he leaned back against the wall. At least his arms weren’t wrenched above his head. But still, just moving them hurt.
“The guard captain has it… he’s taken it for his own.”
“Tell him I will kill him if he doesn’t bring it back to me,” Edin said. He pushed with his legs and used the wall to stand. “And I could use some water.”
The old man nodded and jogged out.
“I know we should help… but we don’t have the strength. We’ll be slaughtered with them.”
“And Henny? Do we just leave him here?”
Dorset shook his head. “They stabbed him in the gut. I’ve healed him as best as I can… but they kept punching the wound.”
Edin clenched his teeth. “Who?”
“The baron’s big gorilla.”
Edin nodded. He took a step forward and Dorset steadied him. At least Dorset wasn’t given the same treatment Edin was. Maybe he talked right away.
They walked out the door and into the dimly lit corridor. There was no one at the guard station and the jail door heading up was wide open.
“Who is that man?” Edin asked.
“The baron’s tutor,” Dorset said. “And a mundane healer.”
Above them, Edin heard much movement. Men rushing back and forth someone shouting commands followed by a lot of ‘Yes Sirs.’
“Reinforcements to the west gate. Now, you slagging fools.” It was the guard captain. “This is my sword now old man!”
Edin stumbled up to the top and was in the empty corridor. Near the open door, he saw the guard captain arguing with the healer in the moonlight. Beyond them, men with torches were rushing to and fro with weapons in hand and fear on their faces.
Edin took a few steps forward and caught the guard captain’s eye. In the distance, Edin heard many dogs howling.
“You’re supposed to be in the dungeon.”
“Give me my sword,” Edin said letting go of Dorset.
The guard captain glared at the old man and then back at Edin. “You do not deserve such a blade, abomination. I’ll just slay you.”
The man drew the sword and aimed it at Edin. It split the light and made multiple reflections of the guard captain. The man ran at Edin.
He was weak, but he could feel the talent. In a moment, he raised his hand and a gust of wind smacked the man in the face.
The guard’s feet skidded forward and he flipped to his back. He gasped as breath flew out of him in a single cough.
It was dark and the commotion outside was so loud that no one even noticed him.
Edin stepped forward, it was only ten yards to the man lying confused on the ground, but it seemed to take forever. The guard captain was trying to stand, slowly pushing himself up off the ground when Edin hit him with another gust of wind.
The old man seemed shocked and went white.
“I thought you were a philios…” he said when Edin planted a foot on the guard captain’s wrist causing him to release the sword.
The guard captain screamed and Edin lifted his weapon. It felt good to have it back in his hands. An old friend. He lowered the tip to the man’s neck.
“My sheath,” Edin said.
The man grunted and began to unbuckle the belt. He slid off the sheath and dropped it at Edin’s feet.
“Now, tell me where the dematians are attacking from.”
Edin stumbled out of the keep’s inner walls past scores of men who didn’t seem to care he was free. Following the wall west he saw throngs of women running toward the dark and frozen port as i
f it would somehow offer a measure of safety.
The wall ended abruptly and Edin turned the corner. A city gate stood closed with piles of defenders behind it. On wooden ramparts archers were shooting arrows at whatever was beyond.
About a hundred yards from the gate he heard a thud and following crack. The wall bulged briefly and someone screamed. Then another.
Battering ram. Edin shivered in the cold and wondered briefly where his cloak was.
Spears flew over the wall and slammed into archers; men screamed and dropped.
Suddenly, his vision went white as a sound came over the valley. A brain wrenching screech. Edin covered his ears and everything went blank.
Moments later, Edin found himself on the ground. His hands shook as if from biting cold. Around him, others were quivering as well. He blinked and heard a massive thud. At the wooden wall, one gate was bent precariously inward. Another strike and a crack. The log barring entry shattered.
With it, came the horde.
Dematians ran in like black lava pouring down a volcano. Soldiers on the ground were cut down and chopped apart even before they regained their feet.
Edin blinked and saw black shapes swarming, most unarmed and swiping with claws. His jaw dropped for an instant then he clenched it.
Edin pushed himself to his feet and wobbled. Shards of ice flew like daggers past him. About ten dematians were hit and thrown back, but the surge forward made the bodies flop like dolls and become trampled beneath pounding feet.
Dorset moved next to Edin with his sword dangling limp in his hands. More ice shards flew past them. They looked like ones he’d used.
The old man appeared at the other side of Edin, his face was pale but held a grim determination beneath his beard. A glasorio.
“Back…” Edin cried.
Ahead of them, soldiers were dead or dying. Some tried to flee but were cut down.
Dematians were jumping over the walls and leaping from the ramparts. The archers were pulling swords and shooting but it did little good. They’d be overrun in moments.
“The city will die if we let them in,” the old man shouted.
Edin pictured Arianne and felt a surge of energy run through him. With it, came hate and anger.
