Malik the Bard: Legend of the Crystal Dragon

by Scott Moore

  Malik did not get a long time to ponder that.

  “Open the gates,” the man with Egg yelled up to the smaller towers.

  The men in those towers would control the levers to open and close the city gates. One grizzled man stuck his head out. He was wearing chain mail and a metal hat upon his head. He sounded like a bear when he talked low and gravelly.

  “Who is asking and why?” the guard asked.

  The captor pulled the sack over his shoulder and held up the squirming Egg. The guard peered at the moving creature for a few moments.

  “I don’t even know what that thing is,” he finally said.

  The mercenary grunted, throwing Egg back over his shoulder. “Well if that will not convince you then maybe this will,” the man turned, motioning for the two men carrying Minus to step forward.

  The guard only had to look for a fraction of a second to realize who they were holding.

  “Is he dead?” the guard asked, not sounding too torn up about it.

  “Not yet, and likely with help he will survive. Are you going to be the reason he dies?” the man asked.

  The guard grumbled something and disappeared. The guards were scared of the Tempre and that was abundantly clear. Soon the gates started to creak open. Not the full large gates, but a set of smaller gates made for small traveling parties. The man with Egg waved everyone forward into the city streets.

  After each was ushered in, the gates slowly closed behind them. Guards flanked the small party on either side but did not speak. This would not be a causal visit into the city. Malik wondered why he had ever thought it would be easy to get into this city. There would be martial law inside the city streets. He doubted that any of the citizens were walking freely without being surrounded by soldier presence. The guards guided them into a small post and halted them with crossed spears.

  “Here you will wait,” said a soldier.

  The mercenaries were not pleased, evident by the looks on their faces. The two men holding onto Minus were relieved of their duty and Minus disappeared off some other path. Malik secretly wished that Minus would perish before he reached the help of a doctor. With his luck though, Minus would come back soon and much stronger than before.

  The remaining soldiers took up their stone men postures and did not offer any comforts to the mercenaries or their captives. They did not ask questions, tell stories, or even answer those asked.

  It was night before the soldier lines finally parted and a man stepped through the ranks. The man wore his beard long, flecked with gray hair. His hair pulled back in a tail also flecked with the distinct gray of age. The man did not appear old, but Malik could pick out some wrinkles forming across his dark brow. Otherwise, the man looked like he could hold his own in a fight. On either of his hips, he wore war swords, proving Malik right.

  The man studied them and the mercenaries, stunned, said nothing. By mere presence alone there was a demanding of fear and respect. Malik made the guess that this would be the famed leader of the Tempre Warriors. His name, as Malik had heard, was simply Malum. He did not have a family name to follow. His family consisted of the Tempre Warriors. Malik felt the hatred rise up, coming to a boil. He could not claim that Malum had killed his parents, but he had ordered it to be done. This man held responsibility for it all.

  “I see you brought quite the collection of specimens for us this evening,” Malum said.

  The man with Egg on his back looked nervous but did step forward from the crowd. “Sweet Tongue offered a reward for those who brought these three,” the man pointed over his shoulder. “I figured we could get extra for bringing extras,” he lifted Egg off his shoulder, dangling him in front of Malum’s face.

  Malum did look interested in Egg, but his eyes did not linger there. He looked out to the other captives.

  “Sweet Tongue offered a reward, did he?” Malum asked.

  The man nodded. “That is the word in the mercenary camp,” he answered.

  “Well, if it is the word of the camp, then it must be true,” Malum said, shaking his head.

  The man drew in breath to answer again but was never able to exhale or speak. Malum’s sword whipped through the air. It had to weigh at least fifteen pounds, but it flew as if it were a twig. It looked like nothing more than a gray blur. The man’s head departed his body. His body stood for an eerie moment, before it too toppled to the ground.

  Malum drove the point of the blade into the ground at his feet. “Anyone else looking to get a mythical reward from Sweet Tongue?” he asked.

  As expected, not a single other mercenary stepped up to take him up on the offer.

  Malum did not pull his blade from the ground. He just moved around it, bending down near the rope sack holding Egg. He tentatively stuck a finger out. Egg gnashed his teeth hard.

  “Feisty little fellow,” Malum said.

  “Do not try to hurt him,” Mollie’s voice rang out over the empty soldier posting.

  Malum looked up. Malik felt the hatred still, but there, under that, fear of this man crept into his heart. Malum’s eyes too blazed with hatred, a hatred of everything; an anger ready to escape at any moment. Malik wished that Mollie would have chosen to keep her mouth shut. Maybe Malum did not care that Sweet Tongue had desired their company. Maybe Malum would have ordered the mercenaries to leave the gates, taking them in tow. He did not feel like they would fare any better with the mercenaries, but at least there remained a flicker of hope. With Malum, their hope died. Malum would not hesitate to kill them. He would not care that they were dead, and Malum obviously did not fear Sweet Tongue or his wrath.

  “Is this creature your friend?” Malum sounded interested.

  “If you hurt him, I will…” Mollie started but a fist from the mercenary holding her shut her up.

  Malum rose to his feet.

  “I want to hear her talk,” Malum said. The mercenary backed away; his best idea ever.

  Malum reached out his hand, cupping the jaw of Mollie. Malik’s skin crawled. If only he had his bow, he thought for a moment. Then he came to the reality that even if he had his bow, he would not shoot it. Instead, Malik just clenched his jaw and watched in silence, trying not to draw the attention his way.

  “Do you fathom that this creature has feelings?” Malum asked, tilting Mollie’s chin roughly with his fingers.

  Mollie’s eyes were set in a stare that would have made many men flinch, but Malum did not show he even noticed.

  “Wag your tongue again,” Malum said.

  Mollie reared back, swinging her head forward, trying to drive it into Malum’s exposed nose. Malum flexed his forearm muscles. Mollie’s head stopped in mid thrust. Malik knew then that they would all die.

  “Not a good idea,” Malum said, not loosening his grip.

  Mollie’s face turned red from the force being applied to her jaw. Malik wondered if Malum could break her bones with just his fingers. He hoped he would not find out.

  “Are you ready to answer my question now?” Malum asked, loosening the grip enough for Mollie to move her mouth.

  “I will do nothing for you,” she said.

  Malum sighed and let her go. He walked back over to his sword, still stuck into the ground. He lifted it out of the dirt and walked back to Egg. “Then I guess you won’t care if I do kill it after all,” Malum suggested.

  Mollie’s fists clenched in anger. She darted forward and stood in front of Egg. Malik was defenseless to help her against the waiting death.

  “So, you do think him a friend. Interesting.” Malum tilted his sword back down toward the ground. Mollie had bought herself at least a few more moments.

  Malum waved over a group of soldiers. “Take these two back to my rooms. I would have a showing with them,” he said.

  Before they could move Embre stepped forward away from her own captor. “You will not separate us,” she demanded.

  Malik wondered where she had gained her courage. Malik did not feel any extra courage running through him. Just hat
red, anger, and fear; mostly fear.

  “Who are you?” Malum asked.

  Embre did not answer, when Malum’s eyes flickered off her and over the others. First, he looked at Malik, but his eyes did not linger. Then he saw Khris in the back. He did stop then and cocked his head to the side. Then his lip curled into the most sinister smile that Malik had ever seen.

  “Well, well, well…” he said, moving forward away from Mollie and his sword.

  Khris’ eyes perked up as Malum made a straight line toward him. Malik thought that at the moment he would not blame Khris if he loosed his bowels all over the ground.

  “I would have believed you dead by now. The village of your father really did hate you. Once he died, I figured they would take the very first opportunity they could to dispose themselves of you,” Malum said.

  Khris’ eyes did not show that he understood the meaning of Malum’s words.

  “I suppose they did get rid of you though, eventually. Here you are standing before me.” Malum reached down and untied the ropes from Khris’ wrist. They came away easily and fell to the ground at his feet.

  Khris did a double take. Malik’s confusion did not lift.

  “This one is free to go. I will house him. Get him food and drink. Maybe he too can come enjoy the festivities,” Malum said.

  No one moved to impede Khris or stop him from running away. Malik looked over the boy again and Khris seemed to be just as shocked, but it could have been a show. Was Khris part of a bigger plan?

  “Who are you?” Khris asked before Malum turned away.

  “Let’s just say I knew your father well. He served me for many good years,” Malum answered.

  Khris shook his head. “My father was a trader!” he yelled.

  Malum laughed for a moment. “Your father was one of my finest warriors. He killed so many men I once feared he would usurp me someday. Then he came down with the illness that eventually killed him. Even the mighty fall, it seems,” Malum said.

  Khris had tears streaming down his face, but he did not fight back. Maybe he had known, or maybe it was not hard to see it. Malik did not know, but his hatred grew for Khris at that moment. No wonder his village wanted to banish him.

  Khris stayed quiet, shocked into silence, or excited at the prospect of being free, Malik did not know.

  Malum did not get a chance to fully turn around before Mollie swung his own sword at his head. Malum did not look shocked or worried about the prospect of his head being lopped from his shoulders. Instead, he stuck his hand up and turned his arm sideways exposing his forearm to the blade.

  Malik’s emotions leapt. He was about to witness Mollie killing the leader of the Tempre Warriors. He had the opportunity to watch the Tempre be cut off at the head. He had to hold in his whoop of excitement. Mollie gave a loud grunt as the heavy sword struck Malum’s forearm. The sound of death did not resonate with Malik, however. The sound he heard above everything; the clang of metal on metal. Malum did stumble back a smidge, not much, but a bit. His arm did not bleed, and he did not die.

  “Quick on your feet, you see some people would respect that.” Malum reached out his hand and grabbed Mollie by the throat. “I am not one of those people. I don’t like the prospect of dying, or almost dying,” Malum lifted her off the ground. Mollie’s face instantly grew red again. Her feet started kicking, looking for solid ground. Malum was too strong for her to break free of his grip. He would kill her this time and it did not matter if she was friends with Egg.

  Malik looked back to Egg, noticing he was no longer trapped inside the ropes. Mollie had freed him, before she grabbed the sword. Egg leapt into the air, there lived a small sliver of hope. His claws tried to dig into the chest of Malum, who did drop Mollie to the ground, but the clanging of before sounded. Malik realized that Malum would be covered in armor all across his body. Malik supposed that hundreds of people wanted to see Malum dead daily.

  Egg bounced to the ground and hovered over Mollie. Mollie gasped for air, but she would survive if Malum did not attack her again.

  “We will all go with you, if you don’t kill her,” Malik said.

  Malum looked up seeing him.

  “Who are you in all of this?” he asked.

  Malik did not answer. Malik was the coward in all of this, but it would do them no good for Malum to realize this. Malum bit his lip and then looked around at the group again.

  “Bring them all back to the King’s castle. Tonight, they can sleep in the dungeons, aside from Khris. The others will be taken in the morning to Sweet Tongue. I think he will be most interested in the little creature. I think it may help us on our little goal,” Malum laughed.

  He had seemingly forgotten all about taking Mollie and Egg back to his quarters. The mercenaries made room for the soldiers to grab the captives. They did not bother to retie the bonds or put Egg into another sack. Malik figured that they knew there was no escape for any of them.

  Chapter 28

  Across the Gray Waters

  Malik did not sleep. None of them slept. There was no conceivable way they could have even tried to get any rest. The area they were confined to was no wider than Malik’s outstretched arms. There were no places to lie down or to even sit and rest. The ceiling was only just high enough for Malik to stand without having to crouch down. He was at least thankful for that. Mollie, Malik, Embre, and Egg were all shoved into the small cell. Then they were left alone with no nourishment or a private place to evacuate if they needed to go.

  Malik did not have the nerves to think about his discomfort. The entire night he worried about the morning to come. What were Malum’s plans with them? When the soldiers came in the morning, they were instructed to take them to Sweet Tongue, but Malum never said where that would be. Sweet Tongue could be anywhere in Luberg or even outside of Luberg by now. Malik tried to focus on anything else. He tried to think about Khris and his betrayal of them.

  Khris had been with the Tempre the entire time. He had led them right to where they needed to be, pretending to be the voice of reason. Malik assumed that Khris sipped wine with Malum in his rooms. They would reminisce about how much of a fool the others had been. Khris would laugh as he recounted their whole desperate tale.

  Sometime in the night, Mollie’s hand slipped into his. Malik curled his fingers around her cold palm. They did not say anything, but Malik knew that Mollie shared in the same fear that ran through his veins.

  When the keys to the door rattled sometime later, Malik shook the daze from his mind. He had not slept, or at least not a normal sleep. He had been in a daze, thinking of a faraway place, but his body did not feel rested. His legs and back were stiff from standing all night. His neck ached with stiffness from him leaning his head, in fear of smacking the ceiling. Mollie and Embre looked no better. The soldiers did not care. They prodded and poked all three of them with the ends of their spears. They did not verbalize any instructions, but Malik did not need to hear the words to know he must follow.

  “Theoretically, how many could Egg kill?” Malik asked.

  Mollie did not lean over to whisper back to him. “There will be no killing,” she said.

  Malik thought the answer reeked. He knew that the only way out would be to carve every last man and woman who tried to stop them. There would be none of that without Mollie and Egg helping. Even then, it seemed unlikely. Malik closed his eyes, trying to keep from wobbling with fatigue. He felt more tired than he had ever felt before. There had been countless nights that Abrie had pushed him through the night and again through the next day. Standing in that cell had been different somehow. Maybe being captured and held like an animal weighed on him. Or maybe, it was the pain that squeezed his muscles. Malik did not have the time to discover the reason; he just knew that it existed.

  The guards led them back the way they had come the night before. There were several sets of winding stairs, followed by cold stone floor, and oil lamps hanging on all the sconces to guide them along. Malik doubted that Bently even k
new this wing of his castle existed. There would be no servants, maids, or royals wandering here. Instead, there were cobwebs, cold drafts, and empty hearths. Malik wished to be anywhere but here.

  The men did not show care for his sore legs, setting a demanding pace. Wherever they were being taken, it was important that they arrive with haste. Malum must have ordered a prompt arrival. He wondered again if Sweet Tongue was in the city of Gray Waters. Would Malik be slit from ear to ear by Sweet Tongue here in this castle? Would he get to see Abrie again before it happened? He resolved that if he did, he would apologize to him. It had never been Malik’s intentions to be a coward. Abrie had known all of these years though. That must have been why he never trained him or guided him toward the Tempre Warriors. Abrie had known his charge was a coward and had protected him from getting himself killed.

  Abrie deserved much more than the simple sorry he would receive. That would be all Malik had left to give him. There was nothing left. Even Callie and Sally were still tied up out there in front of the city. They had not tethered them to trees and Malik hoped that they would wander to a nice farm. Animals would receive a much better welcome than any human ever would.

  The first guard stopped so abruptly in front of two wooden doors that Malik almost ran headfirst into him. Luckily, Malik had stopped just in time. If he had not, even with Malum’s word, Malik decided he would have been hit. The two soldiers looked back over their shoulders. They did not say a word, but they counted with their eyes to make sure no one had gone away.

  Satisfied they heaved on the doors together, opening them up into the outside. Malik felt the cool air pulling at the front of his shirt. Then he heard the hustle and bustle of daily working men. They were yelling out terms that held no meaning to him, but Malik soon gathered that they were standard terms for boats, ships, and rafts. They had been brought out next to the Gray Waters that the city had been named after.

  Hundreds of boats were coming and going. Many of them were docked from the night before or coming in to be checked today. Others were pushing off to start on the next leg of their trading journey. Some of the vessels were transportation rafts, tasked with guiding nobles, workers, merchants, and others across the expansive Gray Waters to the other side of Luberg. Malik knew that the mountains lay just on the other side of the Gray Waters. There was no way to see them from here, but if you sailed for a day or two you would see them.