Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  Nordun stepped to the front of the wagon with the dwarf soldiers. They counted eight dead Ratkin and gathered them into a large pile, careful not to touch any infected nodules on the disease-ridden beasts’ skin. The dwarves took the Ratkin weapons and found their hidden loot sacks tucked beneath their tunics. Not much gold or silver, but a decent amount of gems—rubies, diamonds, and emeralds.

  The stones weren’t rough. Each had been well cut and polished by gem cutters. Greed gleamed in several of the dwarves’ eyes.

  “Move the wagon into the wider area ahead,” Nordun said. “We stay the night. Gather what’s burnable from their campsite, and we keep a fire roaring throughout the night.”

  “Here?” Lehrling asked. “They exited through those tunnels, so they probably aren’t too far away.”

  Nordun nodded. “Exactly. Which is why we wait the night out here. Should we go farther and set up a camp, they may take advantage of the darkness and stalk us while we least expect it. At least here, we know where they are.”

  Bausch examined the crudely carved tunnels. “They dug these?”

  “Recently,” Nordun said, nodding. “There’s never been this many Ratkin inside the mountain passageway.”

  “Why are there so many?” Lehrling asked.

  “My guess is that they came with the Vyking invasion,” Drucis said. “Rumor has it that they might have stowed away in the bottoms of their ships.”

  “Bah! Rumors,” Briar said.

  “Aye, but Dwiskter’s the one who told me. Saw ‘em, himself,” Drucis replied.

  Nordun sighed. “Dwiskter’s never been one to exaggerate. So, it’s probably true.”

  “So many of them?” Lehrling asked. “There were at least a couple dozen here.”

  Nordun shrugged. “Like rats, they multiply quickly.”

  “None were female,” Drucis said, “that I could tell, at least.”

  “Probably have dens.”

  Lehrling scratched his golden beard, frowning. “These couldn’t have arrived with the Vykings. These have set up camp for some time here. Tunnels like that take weeks to chisel out.”

  “Probably so,” Nordun agreed. “But they’re here just the same.”

  Bausch kicked at one Ratkin’s dead, limp body and said, “Would Vykings actually associate with such lowly filthy beasts?”

  “Ordinarily, I’d say no,” Nordun replied. “But with so many oddities in Aetheaon recently, it’s difficult to rightly know.”

  “We’ve maimed a few,” Drucis said, pointing at a few missing rat-like hands and legs scattered about. “They might not dare a peek outside the tunnels until after we head on.”

  Blood and greenish pus leaked from the appendages. A strange green mist hovered over the diseased hands and feet. Bausch reached down.

  “No, lad,” Nordun said quickly. “Don’t touch that unless you wish to get infected.”

  Bausch pulled back his hand and gazed quizzically at the hacked limbs. He wiped his hand against his tight black leather leggings, even though he didn’t actually touch any of the Ratkin’s remains.

  Several dwarves pulled bits of dry kindling they found near the snuffed out campfire the Ratkins had previously used. They dropped torches inside the circle of damp rocks, while others continued adding more wood and burnable debris to the flames until the cavern room was well lighted.

  Briar held his bleeding wrist near the fire to examine it. Already, dark nodules blistered beneath his skin. Concern reflected in his eyes. He shook his head in defeat, gazing at Drucis.

  “Looks bad,” Drucis said, shaking his head.

  “Hack it off with your ax before it spreads,” Briar replied. “It’s me only hope to survive the bite.”

  Lehrling’s eyes widened. He hurried over as Drucis steadied his ax. “Is that really necessary?” Lehrling asked.

  “Afraid so,” Drucis said firmly. “One contaminated bite like that and it spreads through his blood, poisoning him. He’ll be dead in a few days. And worse, he’ll be contagious to any of us.”

  Briar placed his arm across a large rock. He winced as Drucis raised the ax. His jaw tightened.

  “Wait,” Lehrling said.

  “What?” Briar asked.

  Lehrling reached into his pocket and took out the potion. “He can have this.”

  “What is that?” Drucis asked.

  “It’s what the medic gave me for my ailment.”

  Drucis took the vial and studied it in the fire’s light. He shook his head and handed it back. “Aye, your gesture is very noble, but that’s only a temporary remedy. T’won’t help him none.”

  Lehrling tucked the vial back into his pocket and sadness filled his eyes. “There’s nothing else that you can do?”

  Nordun shook his head. “Nothing other than to turn back to Icevale.”

  Lehrling was disheartened. His chest ached. As much as he wanted to ride with the protection of the Icevale warriors, he didn’t want to sacrifice a warrior’s good arm or his life to have them continue the journey to Glacier Ridge.

  He looked at Bausch and then to Nordun and said, “Aye. That is what you must do. No need for him to become maimed on our part. Bausch and I are capable of heading through the mountain passes to Glacier Ridge.”

  “Alone, lad?” Nordun asked.

  Briar’s face expressed his relief of not losing his arm, but regret also filled his eyes. He said, “With Ratkin setting up camps this early into our trip, there’ll be more dangers ahead. You can’t make the journey by yourselves.”

  Drucis said, “They won’t journey alone. I’ll take Draken and Sorgen with me. We’ll escort them through the mountain passes until we reach Glacier Ridge. I doubt that we’ll be seeing the lot of Ratkin that cowered inside the stench-filled tunnels. They know we’re the better warriors.”

  “Very well, Drucis,” Nordun said with an approving solemn nod. “But we rest part of the night while we know where the Ratkin are hiding. Tie a tight tourniquet to slow the spread of the toxin. We head back after the horses are rested. Icevale needs to know how close these filthy beasts are to the city. While they pose no real threat in combat, their ability to spread disease could prove to be more deadly.”

  “But before we rest our eyes,” Drucis said with a broad smile, “we be cracking open a keg of ale for the hearty fight we just won. Who’s with me?”

  All the dwarves shouted, “Aye!”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Shae’zar slept under a bundle of bear and badger hides in the hollowed out top of an ancient duskwood tree on the isle of Evenfar. Her dreams recalled the incidents that had brought her back to the thickly forested island a few days earlier. Her home.

  A demon hunter of the Pantheran catlike race, Shae’zar had grown weary and weakened from her last battle in the harbor village of Shadeport, which had almost cost her a price she didn’t wish to pay—her life.

  The shale-stone demon had been powerful, a trickster, and capable of vanishing instantly whenever she had it cornered. She felt its strength as its razor claws tore into her flesh, slicing to the bone in her left arm. The injury proved to be the one mistake the demon had made that gave her an instant advantage.

  Her tainted blood prevented the demon from vanishing by temporarily paralyzing it, making it unable to pull free and escape. Demons were strong but not often very intelligent. Otherwise, this one would have realized that her Pantheran blood was toxic to demons.

  The demon’s frightened yellow eyes peered into her iridescent emerald irises. Life fleeted from its gaze as she thrust the tip of her curved, serrated blade deep into its abdomen. A slight grunt escaped its mouth while pain creased its confused facial features.

  “Whom do you serve?” she asked.

  The demon hissed, tried to back away, but realized it was helpless. Its death was unavoidable. Yellowish blood leaked from its foul-smelling mouth.

  She thrust the blade deeper. “Who? Tell me.”

  Sputtering bubbled blood mixed with vile bro
wn spittle, the demon forced a wild fierce grin and stammered, “Tyrann.”

  Shae’zar recoiled at the name. Her mind raced to the City of Mortel and the prince that had formerly ruled there. However, if this information was true, then Tyrann still lived.

  Quickly, she brought the sharp blade upward, tearing and slicing through the demon’s gut until its greasy entrails spilled onto the ground between their feet. She yanked the blade free and watched the demon drop slowly to its knees and fall face forward.

  Dead.

  Just as she had thought she had left Tyrann years before.

  The heated sulfur stench of its guts permeated the air, causing her to hold her breath momentarily. She wondered why dying demons emitted the hellish odor before their souls were returned to the abyss. She thought Tyrann had already gone there along with all of the other demons she had killed over the years.

  Shae’zar sighed. “And yet, you live,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “But how?”

  The fact that the demon prince lived, explained why she no longer had to hunt the demons. They were hunting her. Tyrann was sending his minions to kill her because of his bitter vengeance. He’d keep trying to kill her, just as she would continue to pursue once more. The biggest ordeal for her though was that she spent more time fighting the attacking demons than she ever had searching for Tyrann, which was working in his favor now.

  Shae’zar inspected her injury. Blood spilled from where the demon had flayed her arm open. The sudden cool breeze caused the wound to burn like fire. She sheathed the sword and carefully pressed her loose flesh back into place. She was losing a lot of blood. Her vision blurred. Dizziness made everything spin and her knees weakened.

  “Shae!” a voice cried somewhere in the fading distance. She didn’t recognize the voice and that concerned her.

  She shook her head, trying to remain conscious. Her sudden weakness might have occurred from blood loss, but most likely not. Some demon claws were capable of injecting poison to incapacitate their victims, and she feared this was possibly what she was experiencing. Although she was immune to their toxins, sometimes her body had to delve into a hallucinogenic comatose state while it decomposed the stronger poisons. But losing consciousness now, with the amount of blood she had lost could prove deadly because it left her incapacitated with a possible enemy. At least she’d die peacefully.

  A robed figure stepped from the dark shadows and approached as Shae’zar collapsed. Darkness claimed her before she saw the person’s face.

  Hours, perhaps days later, she awakened inside what she assumed was a small hut near the harbor. At least the scents and sounds indicated that was where she was.

  She immediately examined her arm. The tight bandages were stained with dark blood. Her fuzzy eyebrows rose with interest while her eyes narrowed with sudden grave concern. Someone had ensured that she’d live, but whom and why?

  Waves sloshed outside and the scent of dead fish carried on the air. Her nose crinkled. Sea birds squawked outside.

  “Where am I?” she asked, trying to sit up.

  No answer came.

  Her quick movement to rise sent everything spinning. Her stomach sickened. She lay back on the cot and stared at the rough ceiling. That’s when she realized that she wasn’t actually dizzy. Apparently everything rocked around her because she was inside a small boat or a ship’s cabin.

  Slowly she pushed herself up again and swung her feet off the edge of the bed. Her sword and dagger set against the wall, which indicated that she wasn’t being held prisoner. It also meant that they didn’t fear her skills or view her as a threat, which, in a sense, she accepted as a partial insult.

  The Pantheran race were mostly solitary and trusted few individuals, no matter what race they were. Most humans, dwarves, and elves feared crossing their paths because the catlike people were so unpredictable. Only once every few years did a female Pantheran abandon independence to pursue a mate. Their heated pheromones forced them to court any available Pantheran. Otherwise their species would die out.

  Shae’zar placed one foot to the floor and waited. The motion of the boat rose and fell as powerful swelling sea waves undulated beneath the boat. She closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing on the rhythm. Once she was confident of the ship’s rocking pattern, she stood and made her way to her weapons near the door.

  After sheathing them on her belt, she grabbed a hooded robe and put it on. She listened for movement outside the door. Nothing stirred except the endless sloshing waves. She opened the door and was immediately greeted by the swell of ocean waves for as far as she could see. The white caps rolled beneath a partially gray sky. Mist sprayed her face, making her wipe the water from her whiskers. Her panther-like eyes narrowed.

  Her heartbeat increased. She gripped the side of the door with enough force that her claws bit into the wood. Being a cat-humanoid, she hated water. She could swim but did everything possible to avoid getting into any body of water. She wasn’t certain why she held an innate fear of getting wet, and yet here she was on the open sea aboard the tiniest of boats.

  “I see you have survived, Shae,” the woman said, shouting over the roaring sea waves.

  Shae’zar turned quickly to see the woman dressed in midnight blue armor standing at the small ship’s wheel.

  “To whom do I owe my gratitude?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

  “Neela,” the woman replied.

  “And how do you know me?”

  “I’ve watched you for some time, ever since you attempted to kill Tyrann.”

  Shae’zar’s hand went to her sword. Her nervous cat eyes focused on Neela.

  “Now, is that any way to treat a friend?” Neela asked.

  “Pantherans have no friends.”

  Neela smiled. “Everyone needs friends.”

  Shae’zar’s large cat eyes studied the female warrior with caution. “I don’t know that you are one.”

  Neela smiled and shook her head. The wind caught the triangular sail and pushed forcefully. Waves tossed the ship slightly to the right, and Shae’zar fought hard to keep her balance. Her nervous eyes shifted from Neela to the sea and back again.

  “Nonetheless, I’m not your enemy,” Neela said, tightening her grip on the wheel.

  Shae’zar’s hand eased from the hilt. “While I appreciate your aid and protection, where are you taking me?”

  “To Evenfar.”

  “The homeland of my people?” She asked, frowning. “Why?”

  “That battle against the demon almost ended you. You’ve been asleep for several days.”

  “I’m immune to most poisons. That’s what makes demon-hunters strong.”

  “You are few in number these days.”

  “I know, but demon toxin regenerates in my blood, which makes my blood even more poisonous to them. I have recovered. The worst for me is that I’m starving.”

  Neela smiled. “There is food below the cabin. Help yourself.”

  The waves sickened Shae’zar’s when she thought about eating. Her clawed feet pressed into the deck without her even realizing it.

  “Perhaps later,” Shae’zar said. “If you needed my assistance in Evenfar, for whatever you plan to do, we could have traveled across land.”

  “Too risky.”

  “No more than any other day for me.”

  “I’m afraid it’s much worse than before since Hoffnung’s fall.”

  Shae’zar’s furry brow rose with her shock.

  “You’ve not heard the news?” Neela asked.

  “No.”

  Neela nodded. “It’s true. Taking this small ship is the best insurance that Tyrann won’t try to kill you again, at least for now. The salt water acts as a barrier and conceals you from his magic should he be seeking you.”

  “Who invaded Hoffnung?”

  “Vykings from the Isles of Welkstone.”

  “Do you think Tyrann is in allegiance with them?”

  “Don’t you?” Neela asked.

 
Shae’zar shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly.”

  “All dark things have some connection to the Black Chasm where he resides.”

  “You mean where the City of Mortel once stood?”

  “No. The city is still there, but hidden and protected by a black poisonous mist.”

  Shae’zar looked toward the ocean. The overhead gray clouds were similar to the dismal feeling that shrouded her heart. She said, “I truly thought I had killed Tyrann.”

  “I wish that you had,” Neela said.

  “I pierced his heart with my dagger and when I left him, he lay lifeless on the obsidian altar near his throne room.”

  “I know. I believe that is what made him stronger.”

  “How?”

  “He is a demon prince and a warlock. Killing him only allowed him to resurrect himself, which made him even stronger. You’re not the first who thought he had killed Tyrann.”

  “There have been others?”

  Neela nodded. “Many. He thrives on the rewards of resurrecting.”

  Shae’zar frowned. “What rewards?”

  “His father bestows new additions to his armies. After this last time, which was your attempt, the black mists shrouded the City of Mortel. The winds cannot drive away the poisonous mists. None have survived entering the Black Chasm. No mortal, that is.”

  “Then how can we kill him?”

  “That’s where the mystery lies,” Neela replied.

  “I’ve killed dozens of his demons during the past three full moons. They were weak, but the last few have been stronger.”

  “Tyrann is far more powerful than any of the minions that he sends after you.”

  “I realize that.”

  “Good.”

  Shae’zar crossed her furry arms and studied Neela. “So what exactly do you need from me?”

  “We need those capable of killing demons effectively. I’ve watched you. You’re a seasoned demon-killing huntress, and we need many more like you.”

  “For?”

  “Our battle against Waxxon and his Vyking alliance. With your help, Hoffnung will rise again. Waxxon will be dethroned.”