Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  Like an admonished child, Thor’zar and the other guards hesitantly lowered their spears and stepped aside. Neela held the orb of fire up and acted like she was going to throw it. They cowered and backed farther from her approach. Before she entered the hut, the orb quenched itself and billowed up into one big puff of black smoke.

  “You lack patience,” Pan’zar said as Neela entered the hut.

  Neela shrugged. “What did your council decide?”

  Pan’zar sat on her throne. Her amber eyes darkened. “It wasn’t too difficult a decision for us. We have chosen to aid your cause, but Drae’zar only has six demon-hunters nearby who are seasoned enough to be beneficial. The others are all novices. There are others, but like Shae, they are loners and their whereabouts are presently unknown.”

  “Six, plus Shae’zar, are better than none. I thank you as does Aetheaon.”

  Pan’zar gave a modest nod. “You can be quite persuasive. Not to mention, quite dangerous with your ability to call up fire.”

  “I don’t like to be threatened,” Neela said sternly.

  Pan’zar’s paws tightened on the arms of her throne, her claws extended. She leaned forward and her amber eyes brightened. “Nor do we.”

  “I reacted in response to your guards’ behavior.”

  Pan’zar relaxed her grip on the throne arms, leaned back, and sighed. “We’ve never been an inviting people to outsiders. Quite possibly, we never will be. It is something engrained into our culture. Something Thor’zar knows no difference. He’s a bit zealous when it comes to protecting me and Evenfar’s inhabitants. So please overlook his actions.”

  “Very well.”

  “Drae’zar should have the six demon-hunters at the docks in less than an hour. You’re free to wait here or head on to the docks.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” Neela said. “I shall wait for them at the harbor. Until next time.”

  “I pray we don’t have to endure another one.”

  Neela smiled. “Indeed.”

  Chapter Sixty

  The wagon creaked as the iron wheels rolled and bumped along the crude dark path that meandered through the forest. Having passed Bridgebarrow hours before without stopping, Boldair was still grumbling because they didn’t stop at a tavern. But, as Taniesse pointed out, there wasn’t any valid reason for stopping when they had two barrels of unopened ale setting in the wagon bed.

  With all the ale-makers dead at the tiny hamlet that had tended the vineyard and hops bines, Taniesse insisted they hook two horses to the wagon and use it, instead of riding separate horses. Since the owners no longer were capable of using the wagon, she needed a way to transport her treasure. Two horses loaded down weren’t enough to move her vast amounts of gold and gems. Rather than hiring others to move her gold, using the wagon made better sense. They gathered up empty heavy burlap sacks and placed them into the wagon.

  Boldair pulled back on the reins as the road descended sharply and the air became drastically cooler.

  After setting the brake, Boldair tied the reins to a small sapling at the edge of the trail where the fir forest thickened. Taniesse climbed down from the passenger side of the seat, and Viorka leapt from the wagon bed onto the slick road.

  The frigid air produced clouds from the horses’ noses as they exhaled. Some of the fir trees were dusted with snow and ice while those deeper in the forest sagged beneath heavy snow. Low-lying fog made it difficult to see more than the tree outlines or what might be hiding amongst them.

  “So we’re near?” Taniesse said.

  “Aye, the Boneyard isn’t too far from ‘ere,” Boldair said. “I thought you knew where it was located?”

  “I do when I’m in flight. Everything looks much different at ground level.”

  “I suppose it does. Soon, O’ Great One, you’ll be reunited with your treasure.”

  “Provided no graverobbers beat us to it,” Taniesse replied.

  “That I can guarantee has not happened.” He offered a quick wink, and then he pulled his ax. “This way.”

  “Back to your boastful self, eh?” Taniesse asked.

  “Few thieves know how to check for the traps I set.”

  “But if the thief is another dwarf?”

  Boldair chuckled. “I suppose that increases the chances for the traps being jimmied without incident, but ye still need to know the proper combination.”

  Wolves howled deeper in the forest. Viorka’s eyes shifted uneasily toward Taniesse and then to the dwarf.

  “Ah, don’t be worrying about those wolves, little cat,” he said. “They be howling from the Vale of Frozen Tears, still quite a ways from here. Should they approach and try to nab you, I’ll use me ax to pry them off of ya.”

  Viorka stopped walking, her eyes narrowed, and she huffed.

  Boldair reared back his head with roaring laughter and slapped his knee. “You know better than that. For what you did to destroy that orb, I’d never let ‘em get near enough to harm ye.”

  “Thanks . . .”

  “Ah, don’t mention it.”

  “Boldair,” Taniesse said softly but firmly. “This is a time to become more serious. Graveyards do harbor more than random thieves.”

  “Aye, milady. But trust me, this Boneyard has few to ever visit it. Alive, that is.”

  “It’s not the living I’m concerned with,” she said.

  “Spirits? Ghosts? Eh?”

  Taniesse shrugged. “Wraiths, demons, or the undead. Those concern me the most.”

  “Never saw any here.”

  Viorka hissed. “Doesn’t mean they won’t be there this time.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  The frozen fir needles on the forest floor crunched underfoot as they walked. Wind whistled through the branches, blowing powdery snow into their faces. Viorka shivered in spite of her fur. Boldair didn’t shudder, nor did Taniesse. The worn snow-covered path made a sharp turn along the edge of a rocky ridge.

  “See, no recent footprints anywhere.”

  “Can we drive the wagon to the graveyard?” Taniesse asked.

  “I’m checking on foot to make certain. It was wide enough before, but I’d rather see firsthand before we bring it through in case some rocks have fallen from the mountain ridge. I don’t want us to get wedged in.”

  Viorka crouched behind the wide trunk of a fir with low thick branches. “Something moves.”

  “Where?” Boldair asked, peering ahead.

  A small branch cracked, followed by a crunch in the breaking snow.

  The fynx pointed. “There, where the trail dips downward.”

  Boldair chuckled. “That’s nothing more than a plump snow hare. See?”

  Viorka stepped around the tree to stand beside the dwarf. Slowly, she nodded her head. “I do now.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so timid.”

  “Only near graveyards.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  The path widened and went beneath a cliff overhang. Frozen stalactites clung to the ceiling, almost blending in with the icy blue icicles that hung from the outer edge of the rocks.

  Clean bones and ripped pieces of fur were scattered across the path.

  “Wolves were here,” Taniesse said softly.

  Viorka took a deep breath. “I thought they were farther in the Vale of Frozen Tears?”

  Boldair shrugged. “They roam about to hunt, I suppose. But none have howled nearby.”

  “Would they?” Viorka asked. “If they were stalking us as prey.”

  “Oh, little cat. You worry too much.”

  “You don’t worry enough,” she replied.

  Boldair laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  After they walked beyond the overhang, they came to a large gravestone that was covered with a thick layer of snow. Fog drifted around them. Flicks of tiny snowflakes spiraled, almost floating, in the mist. Silence was enough to make their ears ring. Like a silent army, rows of gravestones came into view.

  �
��Which grave?” Taniesse asked.

  “Oh, no. Not a grave. The sepulcher. There’s no possible way I could stash your treasure in one of these graves. There are two other sepulchers where I placed your sisters’ treasures.”

  “Where are the sepulchers?”

  “Ah, they’re at the far end of the cemetery.”

  Viorka shuddered. “Of course, they would be in the darkest corner of the graveyard.”

  Small frozen figures stood amongst the gravestones. At first they appeared to be carved statues, but upon closer examination, they were obviously gnomes frozen inside sheets of blue ice. A few halflings, a couple of dwarves, and several elves were also victims.

  “What happened to these?” Viorka asked.

  Taniesse flicked her gaze toward Boldair.

  “Don’t rightly know,” he said. “These were here when I buried the treasure.”

  “So they’ve been here quite some time?” Taniesse asked.

  “Aye.”

  Taniesse frowned. “And no one attacked or threatened you when you were here?”

  “No.”

  A slender snowdrift hid a rock wall. Dead, needleless firs and cedars stood like skeletons along the wall, and beyond them was a large sepulcher. Three dead would-be grave robbers lay frozen outside the door. Arrows had pierced deadly strikes for each of them.

  Boldair chuckled. “Aye, see? Told you. The door’s seal is still intact.”

  “But you did have visitors,” Taniesse replied.

  “No more convenient a place than to die than in a graveyard, eh?”

  “That’s true. Now, the lock?”

  Boldair grinned and rubbed his hands together briskly. From his belt he removed several lock picks, but instead of walking to the main door, he went to one end of the sepulcher front wall and inserted the three picks.

  Wind whistled through the graveyard, kicking up snow, and swaying the branches of the dead trees as well as the living. It spiraled in the center of the graveyard. Moments later, the wind died abruptly.

  “Aye, I almost have it,” Boldair said.

  “We have company,” Taniesse replied.

  “What?” Boldair asked, glancing in her direction.

  The ground shook. Gravestones toppled. Ice and snow cracked atop the graves. From the frozen earth, undead hands reached upward, clawing at the hard soil, trying to emerge.

  “Undead!” Viorka exclaimed.

  The three grave robber corpses near Boldair writhed. Bones and joints popped as their frozen tissues reanimated. Slowly they crawled, pushing and pulling, until they started to rise to their feet.

  A pulse of dark energy flowed across the ground, sparking like jagged streaks of blue lightning. Groans and grunts came from the opening graves. With the ground harder than ice, the power to split open the earth and reanimate frozen dead corpses was evidence of a dark and powerful necromancer.

  Taniesse looked around the graveyard. She knew the Plague-bringer was nearby. No one else held the power over the dead like this man. But the foggy mists hovering over the Boneyard made finding him difficult. She had expected that he would have appeared within that swirling gust of wind, but he didn’t.

  Crimson eyes glowed on the narrow ridge that towered above the sepulcher. His evil gaze seemed to slice through the frosty air like a searing fire poker. Taniesse’s back stiffened and her jaw tightened.

  The Plague-bringer.

  With every fiber of her being, she wanted to return to her dragon form and fly toward him, torching the entire mountainside where he stood, but he’d vanish well before she reached his location. And then he could report to Waxxon and Tyrann that the dragons were still alive within Aetheaon.

  As much as she wanted to transform, she resisted. She needed the element of surprise in their favor. It was the only surprise tactic they had that might turn the tide in Hoffnung’s favor.

  Boldair stopped fidgeting with the trap, grabbed his ax, and lobbed the head off the closest undead grave robber. The undead’s spine crackled like ice. He turned toward the next and beheaded it.

  Viorka mewed in terror. A reaching hand from one grave wrapped cold undead fingers around her ankle with a fierce grip and yanked. The fynx fell and rolled into a seated position, slashing helplessly at the undead arm with her claws. She spat and hissed like a cat while raking her sharp claws across the back of its hand. The undead felt no pain and continued tugging her toward the edge of the grave. Her eyes widened.

  Taniesse ran toward the fynx, drew her sword, and chopped off the hand. The fingers released her ankle. She scooted backwards on her tail until her back rested against the snow-covered wall. She pushed herself to her feet and ran from the graveyard toward the path that led back to the wagon. She didn’t even pause to look back over her shoulder.

  Taniesse looked toward the ridge where she had seen the Plague-bringer. He was gone. No sign of him or the black carriage at all. She chanted softly. Orbs of fire rose from the palms of both hands. One after the other, she tossed the fireballs, striking undead bodies and skeletons with dragon’s fire. The intense heat smoldered, burning decayed flesh and bone until nothing but ash remained. She could have swept the entire graveyard with a blaze of fire in her dragon form, charring everything in sight, but she didn’t want to chance that the Plague-bringer might still be hidden on the ridgeline where he could see her.

  After a few dozen orbs of fire, the burning corpses produced enough heat to melt away the icy fog, giving Taniesse a better view of the trees, the gravestones, and the ridgeline. Wolves howled in the distance, but they seemed to be a lot farther away than they had been when Boldair had parked the wagon.

  “Dat all of them?” Boldair asked, hefting his ax and looking around.

  Taniesse walked to the front of the sepulcher. She nodded.

  Boldair lowered his ax and continued tinkering with the trap. “That was greatly unexpected.”

  “The Plague-bringer was here.”

  “You saw him?” Boldair asked. His bushy eyebrows rose with the question.

  She pointed to where she had seen him. “He was there. He brought the dead to life and then he vanished.”

  “Tis a shame you couldn’t have killed him.”

  “I know, but I can’t risk him knowing what I truly am.”

  “Aye. That would cause other problems as well.” The mechanism Boldair toyed with, clicked. “Ahh, I got it. Now I can open the door. But we should have brought the wagon first.”

  On the far side of the graveyard, a rattling, creaking sound echoed.

  “What’s that?” Boldair asked, grabbing his ax.

  Taniesse turned, forming a ball of fire on her hand. She expected the black carriage to round the bend and enter the graveyard. The sound became louder. Boldair held the ax handle in both hands, stepping beside Taniesse. A few seconds later, the wagon came around the corner with Viorka holding the reins. Boldair and Taniesse relaxed.

  Taniesse turned toward him. “Open the vault. Let’s see what you’ve hidden.”

  Boldair twisted the door handle and pulled the door open. Taniesse held the ball of flame at the door. Gold coins gleamed. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled like multicolored stars.

  “My apologies, O’ Great One,” Boldair said, bowing.

  “None needed. All appears safe. Besides, if you hadn’t found my lair, surely someone else would have.”

  Viorka stopped the wagon outside of the sepulcher.

  Taniesse grabbed the tied bundle of bags and tossed them to the ground. “Sack up the treasure and let’s get out of here. We have armies to hire. Should my sisters need theirs, we’ll come back for theirs.”

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Tyrann sat upon his obsidian throne of skulls and stared into the dark crystal orb levitating before him. It glowed with a purplish tint. His concentration was upon the female’s face inside. Xaeeria, the demon wife of King Obed on the Isles of Welkstone, looked trouble. He kept intense eye contact with her as they conversed.
>
  “So sister,” Tyrann said, staring into the dark orb. “Why have you beckoned me? It is seldom we talk nowadays.”

  Her orange eyes glowed like molten lava. Her reddish skin resembled shimmering serpent scales. In spite of her strange appearance, her breathtaking beauty was enough to seduce almost any man, regardless of race, which was how she had swayed the Vyking king to wed her.

  “My son, Prince Xylus, is dead.”

  Tyrann’s eyes narrowed. He feigned sorrow. “Dead? How?”

  “From what I can gather, he was killed by an Overlander.”

  Tyrann frowned. The muscles in his face tightened. Rage filled him. “Are you certain it was an Overlander?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you asked Mors to confirm this?” Tyrann asked.

  “No. He’s too preoccupied raising undead armies for Waxxon.”

  “I see. Mors is one of few who can search the abyss and talk with those bound within the fiery pits of Hell.”

  “I’m aware of what my son can do.”

  “On the bright side,” Tyrann said, “it lessens the challenge for Obed’s throne.”

  “How dare you!”

  Tyrann grinned and offered a slight shrug. Xaeeria was his least favorite sibling and only sister. Xylus’ death only concerned him because of the Overlander. The Overlander had somehow trespassed through Botis’ magical cavern maze with a faery into Aetheaon. Just days before, the same Overlander had traveled into the Black Chasm with a small band of disparate soldiers that could hardly pluck a chicken, much less expect to kill a single demon.

  Poisonous gas had killed all of the invaders . . . except the Overlander. He had almost died, but before one of the demon guards grabbed him, a magical portal opened and someone pulled him through it.

  Had Tyrann known that this man was responsible for the death of Tyrann’s nephew, he would have acted faster to detain the man and prevent his death until he knew more about the Overlander.

  Tyrann had had Xylus’ murderer within his grasp and allowed him to escape. Although he wouldn’t mourn the loss of his nephew, he was curious about why the Overlander chose to stay in Aetheaon rather than return to his homeland. He had a lot of impudence to invade the Black Chasm, and for what reason?