Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “You’re awake.” The woman said with a bright dimpled smile.

  Lehrling didn’t recognize the woman. She wore a white bonnet with her brown curls spilling out and down her back. She looked to be in her late thirties. Her dress was modest and her brown eyes sparkled with interest he had not seen from any woman in a long while.

  “May I ask your name?” Lehrling said with a slight blush.

  She smiled. “Mildred.”

  He cocked a brow and then he smiled back. “Where am I, dear lady?”

  “Woodcrest.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “What of Roble, Odlon, and the others?”

  “They’ve headed on to Ironwood.”

  Lehrling frowned. “Without me?”

  “You were quite ill. You nearly died.”

  He placed a hand to his ribs. No pain. It didn’t hurt to breathe, either, and for that he was relieved. He had also lost quite a bit of weight. “How long have I been here?”

  “Two weeks and a day.”

  “Damn,” he muttered. “The last I remember was the wizard warning us about the Vykings taking over Woodcrest. Was that real or did I dream it?”

  “It was very real. Our town leaders were killed. Two men dressed in armor like yours,” she said, pointing at Lehrling’s armor hanging on a rack in the corner of the small room. “They also died.”

  Sadness tightened his chest. “How?”

  “The Vykings. They fought the Vyking leader, but even together, they weren’t a match for him.”

  “And where are the Vykings now?”

  “The one traveling with you, Riese, he killed the leader. And the rest of your party helped eliminate the rest of the Vykings and the invading dark elves. But they took the town witch away for her deception.”

  Lehrling lowered his feet over the side of the bed. When they touched the cold floor, he lifted them.

  “Here,” she said, slipping warm socks onto his feet.

  He grinned. “Thank you so much, Mildred, for your hospitality and for taking care of me during my sickness.”

  She regarded him with a gentle smile and a bit of hurt and apprehension showed in her eyes. “Are you leaving?”

  Lehrling stood. “Not immediately. I’m afraid that I am still quite weak from not eating.”

  “I spooned you broth while you slept, but that’s not like eating a robust meal, I know. Let me go cook you something more filling.”

  “Mildred, you’ve already done so much.”

  “I insist.” Her eyes beamed with a longing to care for him.

  With a kind smile, he replied, “Very well. I look forward to whatever you cook and serve.”

  Mildred blushed with a slight smile and stepped out of the room. Lehrling rose and walked over to his armor. The leather had been cleaned thoroughly and oiled. Other than a few new patches, it looked almost new.

  He arched his back, stretching, and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he felt no aches whatsoever. He rubbed his stomach. Although not a thin man, he was no longer pudgy. He chuckled, wondering how loose his armor would fit now.

  As Lehrling dressed, his mind thought about Roble and Shawndirea. Fragments of memory bursts came to him. He remembered the Ratkin snatching the faery from Roble and their search to find her again in Glacier Ridge. Then his mind drifted to the old man driving the black carriage.

  His heart riveted.

  The Plague-bringer.

  Lehrling remembered him and the devastation the old man had unleashed upon Glacier Ridge with great disease and death. Riese had lost his son and the majority of the town was doomed.

  He hurried and tightened his leather vest. As he expected, the armor was looser. Once he found his polished boots, he slipped them on and searched through the small cottage until he found Mildred.

  “Where are the bodies?” he asked her, stepping quickly into the room and taking her by surprise.

  Her eyes widened. “What bodies?”

  “The Vykings, your townspeople, and the two Dragon Skull Knights that died when I was brought into your village?”

  “Those that weren’t burned are buried on the outskirts of our village. A couple of the Vykings are impaled alongside the road as a warning to any other Vykings not to venture past them. Why?”

  “Take me to them.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to examine the graves.”

  Mildred looked at him questioningly. Her face paled. It was obvious that she wanted to ask why again, but she held her peace. She folded a towel and set it upon a flour-covered tabletop. She motioned him toward the door.

  Once outside, she waved at a wagon driver. He stopped his two old mules. The flatbed wagon was empty. “Yes, Mildred?”

  She cupped her hands together. With a pleasant smile, she spoke in a gentle sweet tone. “Are you headed out to the wheat fields?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you give us a ride to the edge of Woodcrest?”

  “Certainly, but you’ll have to find another way back. I have several more loads to make before sunset.”

  Mildred took Lehrling’s hand and led him to the rear of the wagon. They sat on the back with their feet hanging just inches above the cobblestone road. The driver snapped his whip and the mules pulled ahead. The wagon rocked and creaked as they rode.

  From the corner of her eye, she regarded Lehrling with an uncomfortable silence. Lehrling caught her gaze.

  “Why do you wish to see the bodies?” she finally asked.

  “It may prove to be nothing, but . . . the Plague-bringer had passed us between Woodcrest and Glacier Ridge. All those inside Glacier Ridge died from disease, or maybe they’re undead creatures still roaming about.”

  “What did he look like?”

  Lehrling gave a brief description of the wagon and the strange old man that was nothing less than something he might have nightmares about.

  “This man . . . the Plague-bringer, did not come here,” Mildred replied.

  “I still would feel safer seeing the graves for myself.”

  They rode a half hour on the rear of the wagon passing endless fields of wheat, rye, and corn. Field hands used sickles to harvest the grains. The driver pulled the reins, stopped the horses, and allowed Lehrling and Mildred to get off the wagon. He then turned the wagon and nodded to them as he headed down the edge of the closest field so the workers could load the wagon with grain.

  Mildred walked toward the narrow bridge that crossed the winding creek. On the other side of the bridge the two impaled Vykings were positioned atop sharpened pikes. Their arms and legs were tied out on planks to form a large X.

  Flies swarmed around their decaying bodies, and the stench of decay drifted with the breeze.

  Lehrling stared at them for several long moments before he glanced at her. “That’s not something I’d ever have expected the townsfolk of Woodcrest to do. I’ve always been informed that Woodcrest is a peaceful passive village.”

  Mildred shook her head and then she looked down. “We are. We did not do this.”

  “Who did?”

  “Riese. We begged him not to, but he insisted it would act as a greater deterrent. He said that Vykings have a superstitious nature, fearing what shocks them or things that they do not fully understand. Two dead Vykings impaled like that would frighten more than anger them.”

  Lehrling sighed. “I suppose you cannot get a better shock value than that for a welcome. Where are the graves?”

  She pointed toward a narrow path that ran alongside the creek. They followed the path until the creek crooked sharply. The soil became darker and wider where the path ended. Crude stones stood as markers and detailed the outlines of the graves.

  Mildred tucked her chin against her chest, closed her eyes, and mumbled a few words. A prayer, if he had to guess. The fresh graves showed no sign of disturbance.

  “Satisfied?” she asked.

  Lehrling nodded. “Yes.”

  “What did you expect to see?”

  �
��I hoped to find these graves exactly as they are. What I dreaded to discover was that all of the graves had been dug out and the dead bodies alive and walking about.”

  Mildred eyed him suspiciously. “Are ye still unwell?”

  “No. I’m clear in mind, and what ailments I suffered have healed, thanks to you. You don’t believe such things exist?”

  She shook her head.

  “As a Dragon Skull Knight that has traveled throughout all of Aetheaon, I can tell you, dear lady, that far worse exists. The fall of Hoffnung and the brief occupation of Woodcrest should be enough to make your village realize the importance of defending yourselves.”

  The look of affection her eyes had held for him earlier shifted to cold and spiteful. She suddenly looked like a bitter old woman when she faced him. “Perhaps, Dragon Knight, I have done a disservice to my village by volunteering to nurse you back to full health. I had thought that maybe my kindness . . .”

  “Would make me what? Not a knight willing to sacrifice my life to protect those around me? To not protect the crown of Hoffnung and return Lady Dawn—provided she’s still alive—to her place of power?”

  “I had hoped you’d lay down your weapons, yes.”

  “Dear lady, our kingdoms are at war. Good vs. evil. For a good man to set his weapons down in the face of the enemy is to lose everything we value as sacred.”

  Mildred turned and followed the path, heading back toward the road.

  Angered, Lehrling followed. “Tell me, what did your villagers do to help the two Dragon Knights that fought to protect you?”

  She kept walking, not bothering to reply.

  “Nothing? You did nothing?”

  Mildred stopped walking and glanced over her shoulder “Bloodshed never solves the issues at hand.”

  “Neither does exposing one’s neck to be slashed open by those under Waxxon or Tyrann’s influence. There is a time for people to defend themselves. If you don’t understand that, I fear Woodcrest will suffer the same fate as what you see in the Ruins of Sturn. The tilted decaying statues are testimony enough of what happens when a people yields to their darkest foes because they vow to never defend themselves.”

  “How dare you!”

  Normally, Lehrling wouldn’t argue with a woman, but he didn’t like how she had assumed he should do her bidding because she had taken care of him during his illness. Indeed, he was thankful for her hospitality, but he didn’t owe her a change in his standards in return. She was not about to convert him to Woodcrest’s beliefs.

  He continued, “Not one priest, priestess, or monk bothered to fight the dark elves that ransacked the Sturn Monastery. They allowed themselves to be slaughtered, as what? Martyrs for peace? Dear lady, unless you and your townsfolk open your eyes, you’re doomed to the same fate. From my understanding, Riese and the others in my group must have risen to the cause to prevent you from being slaughtered. Is that correct?”

  Her angered eyes regarded him for several long silent minutes, but she never replied.

  “Is that what happened, Mildred?”

  “When you return to Woodcrest, gather the remainder of your belongings, your horse, and head to whatever town you wish. I pray you never return to Woodcrest.” She covered her face, sobbing. “I was so foolish . . .”

  Lehrling watched her storm onto the road as she marched back toward Woodcrest. Flabbergasted, he shook his head and expelled a long sigh. He didn’t understand how she didn’t see his reasoning. While he favored peace himself, he knew all too well that peace often came at a higher cost than most were willing to accept or pay.

  It hurt to see her stomp away. For a little while he had found himself flattered by her gazes when he had first awakened, and yet he wondered now if that had been simply a ruse. On the surface all the farmers appeared friendly and generous, but now he worried that was only superficial. Were they like that only around those who accepted their beliefs and adapted to follow the same lifestyle?

  Yes, he’d saddle Bleys and leave this village immediately. He doubted he’d ever return, and should he find it necessary to travel this direction again, he’d sweep well around the village altogether, even though the better roadways crossed through the center of the town.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Once Neela sailed her small ship into the port of Evenfar, the Pantheran guards on the docks allowed Shae’zar off the ship but were hostile toward Neela. They demanded that she not set foot onto the dock.

  Her patience was thin on most occasions, and this situation was wearing near to her turning into her dragon form and incinerating half of the port. With all the thatch-roofed shacks, she imagined the chaos a few fireballs would cause and how devastating her attack could be. Fire would spread through this tiny fishing village in minutes, leaving the place smoldering in ash and ruin. If she didn’t believe they needed the demon-hunters for the battle to reclaim Hoffnung, she’d have scorched a path through the village to where Pan’zar was.

  Shae’zar pleaded with the two muscled black panther-like men but her words fell on deaf ears. The guards still refused Neela’s entrance.

  They wore leather chest pieces and leggings weaved from thick leaves and long blades of grass. Both had spears with razor-edged tips on each end. Their sharp teeth and claws seemed a greater threat than their weapons.

  “She is here to talk to Pan’zar,” Shae’zar said.

  “No human comes onto Evenfar,” the one guard said, staring into Shae’zar’s eyes.

  Shae’zar gazed back at Neela.

  Neela forced a smile. “Perhaps you might consider my alternative?”

  Shae’zar shook her head and her eyes widened. “No. I’ll plead my case with Pan’zar.”

  “Make it quick,” Neela said. “My patience is gone.”

  Shae’zar held both paws toward the ship, signaling for Neela to wait and not do something drastic. Not quite a quarter of an hour later, she returned with another female Pantheran. Her amber eyes shimmered as she studied Neela. She wore a gray silken robe that flowed to her ankles and her cloak was a light blue. She wore a golden headband with large rubies and had her hood pulled over her head. Her sandals were woven from palm leaves.

  She walked up behind the two guards on the dock. “Let her come ashore.”

  Stunned, they peered over their shoulders to see Pan’zar standing behind them. “But, Your Majesty . . .”

  “Are you questioning my order?”

  “Not at all, Your Highness.”

  The guards stepped aside and bowed toward Pan’zar.

  Neela walked down the ramp onto the dock. She stopped near the bowing guards. Fury brimmed in her fiery eyes. Her firm jaw tightened, and her hands balled into fists.

  “This way, Neela,” Pan’zar said softly. “Follow me.”

  Neela stepped between the two guards and followed the Pantheran leader to the dusty street. Shae’zar walked directly beside Neela. They walked past several blocks of bamboo huts with thatched roofs until they reached a longer building that stood several stories high. The bamboo walls were strung together with golden-colored rope. More guards stood at the door and inside the modest palace.

  Pan’zar led them down a long narrow path. At the far end was a small high-backed chair that Neela assumed to be a throne. Pan’zar seated herself and then looked down at them. Her amber eyes beamed.

  “So Shae’zar tells me you have something of great urgency to discuss?” Pan’zar asked.

  Neela nodded.

  “As I’m certain she has told you, and my faithful guards as well, we do not like humans on our island. But with Shae’s pleading and the evident fear in her voice, which she’s never shown before, she has convinced me that the information you have is quite essential to our survival?”

  “It is.” Neela’s countenance had not softened. She remained perturbed.

  “Am I to take this as a threat?”

  Neela shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “Then explain this . . . urgency.”

/>   “I have come here with Shae’zar to request the aid of your demon-hunters.”

  “For what purpose?” Pan’zar studied Neela closely.

  “So Aetheaon does not succumb to the demon assault that is arising.”

  Pan’zar’s brow creased. “What assault? I’ve heard of no such thing.”

  Neela formed a water orb in her hand. The inside of the orb was hazed. Gradually, the swirling black smoke spun like a developing tornado.

  “The Black Chasm?” she asked.

  Neela nodded.

  Offering only a slight shrug, Pan’zar said, “So? No one knows what lurks inside. Maybe there are demons present. Perhaps there are not.”

  “Look closer.”

  Beneath a wisp of circling black mist, a creature hobbled into view. It was a demon with four arms, two legs, and a long spindly tail.

  Pan’zar’s eyes widened slightly, but narrowed quickly to contain her surprise. “One demon?”

  Neela shook her head. “No. One demon of a legion. Tyrann rules the City of Mortel inside the Black Chasm.”

  Pan’zar eyed Shae’zar suspiciously. “Tyrann’s dead. Isn’t he?”

  Shae’zar looked down at her feet. “I thought he was. But he’s still alive.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Pan’zar stiffened on her throne.

  “This is the first I’ve returned to Evenfar in a long time. And it’s why I’m here now. Neela insisted that I come to find others like me.”

  Pan’zar flicked her gaze to Neela. Her eyes narrowed. “So this really is serious?”

  Neela nodded. “Yes. And it’s only beginning. As Tyrann’s power increases, the number of hellish minions he can summon grows in magnitude.”

  “How did he survive?”

  Shae’zar shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You?”

  Neela stared, deep in thought. “He has powers and magic that are undefined. It could be because he is part demon or a dark sorcerer is protecting him. But he is not the only challenge we face.”

  “What else?”

  Neela explained the fall of Hoffnung and the ongoing search for Lady Dawn as well as the need to remove Waxxon from power.

  Pan’zar shook her head. “We have had our dealings with Vykings in the past since we are an island kingdom. But our wealth comes only from farming and fishing, which holds no true interest to the plundering Vykings. It has been ages since we’ve seen one of their vessels.”