Magician's Heir

by D Bruce Cotton

  The burly innkeeper turned his attention back to Henslow and Aristomus and continued, “And what can I do for you gentlemen this fine evening? Dinner? Rooms? Please, you have but to ask.”

  A smile spread over Henslow’s face, shocking Adam. The Captain stepped forward and grabbed the big innkeeper in a bear hug, slapping his back with both hands. “Nestor, you old war dog! It has been too long.”

  Burliman returned the embrace for a moment. Then holding Henslow out at arm’s length, he looked him up and down. “It has indeed, Jacob. But what are they feeding you back in Lakeshore? You are as skinny as a Karlounian beggar. Well, fear not! A few days of my cooking will fill you out!”

  “Your abilities in the kitchen are a thing of legend, Burliman,” laughed Henslow as he gave his friend’s belly a pat. “But I fear we are here for the night only. We travel to Seir and must get there as soon as possible.”

  “Mayhap you will tarry a few days on your return then; a chance to reminisce of the old days! But forgive me. You are tired and travel-worn and here I babble on like a schoolgirl. Menlen!” he shouted back toward the kitchen. “Awake, you sluggard! There are horses to care for!”

  A sleepy-eyed young man burst out of the kitchen and raced through the crowd to the fat innkeeper. “Eighteen horses, my friend,” said Henslow. “My men will bunk in the stables with the horses, but we will need two rooms, one for me and my lieutenant and the second for Master Aristomus and... him.” Henslow’s smile curdled as he looked over at Adam.

  “Of course, of course,” answered Burliman. “I will have meals sent out to your men. As you can see, the common room is crowded tonight, but I will be happy to clear room for you and your companions.”

  Aristomus waved a hand. “Unnecessary, Burliman. Dinner in our rooms will be satisfactory. Now, if you will show the way...”

  “Of course, Master,” replied Burliman with a polite bow. “This way, please.” The innkeeper led Henslow, Aristomus and Adam to a curtained doorway next to the kitchen entrance. A set of stairs led to a short hallway with three sets of doors on both sides. Burliman passed the first two doors then opened the next set of rooms to his left and right.

  “I am sure you will find these to be most acceptable,” he said. “They are my best rooms; better than my own in fact.”

  Aristomus looked inside and replied, “Aye, these will do, Burliman. You have our thanks.”

  “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” urged Burliman. “I will have supper brought up to you soon.” The fat innkeeper bowed once again before heading back down the hallway.

  Henslow closed his door, but remained in the hallway. “I will check on my men first, Master Aristomus. I trust you will keep a close eye on our prisoner?”

  Aristomus sighed. “Of course, Captain.”

  Henslow headed back down the hallway. Aristomus motioned for Adam to enter, then followed and closed the door behind him. The tiny room held two single beds separated by a small table. A small room, the furnishings left the two mages little space to move. An oil lamp provided meager light. A fireplace sat at the far end of the room and, after he placed his and Adam’s staffs in a corner, Aristomus busied himself starting a fire.

  Shivering, Adam noticed a pile of towels and soft robes stacked on the beds. After undressing, he used a towel to dry himself and then pulled on a robe. While Aristomus did the same, Adam sat on the edge of the bed closest to the fire and tried to warm himself.

  A few moments later, there came a soft knock at the door. A serving girl entered, placing a large tray on the table before stooping to pick up their clothing. “Burliman instructed me to have your clothing cleaned and dried to prepare for your departure, m’lords.”

  Aristomus and Adam both muttered their thanks as they sat down to steaming bowls of the spicy fish stew the mage had commended earlier. Surrounded by large chunks of fresh baked bread, the hot stew sat next to tall mugs of ale. Adam took a tentative bite of the stew, surprised to find himself in complete agreement with the mage. Before long, he mopped out his bowl with the last piece of bread.

  Unused to strong drink, the ale left Adam sleepy. Aristomus smiled as he watched Adam cover a huge yawn. “Perhaps we should both get some sleep,” said the old mage. “It is likely the good Captain will make an early start on the morrow.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Adam replied. Pulling back the covers, he crawled into the soft bed while Aristomus snuffed out the oil lamp. The fire cast a soft glow over the room as both men fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 8, Attack

  A loud pounding on the door jerked Adam awake. Muttering to himself, he pulled the covers over his head in hopes of a few more minutes sleep.

  But the noise didn’t stop. And now Adam heard shouts as they echoed up and down the hallway outside. By the time he sat up, Aristomus had already opened the door. A serving girl stood there, her face white and twisted in panic.

  “Masters! Come now! We are under attack!”

  Aristomus grabbed his staff, then hesitated a second before tossing the second one to Adam. “Come with me! And stay close!”

  Adam paused long enough to slip on his still damp boots. Rushing into the hallway after Aristomus, he noticed the door to Henslow’s room stood wide open, beds rumpled and empty.

  Adam caught up to the mage just as he flung open the front door to the inn. People dashed up and down the muddy street, fear stretching their faces. Adam heard distant screams and saw the glow of flames against the night sky. A pall of smoke hung heavy in the air. In the middle of the street, Henslow shouted instructions to his men as they raced about, still pulling on clothes and weapons.

  Aristomus headed straight for Henslow. After snapping a final order to one of his soldiers, the Captain turned to the mage and reported, “It is the Unsouled. They caught the town sentries off guard. Probably asleep, damn their eyes!

  “They bypassed the town and attacked the village outside the northern gates. Those people had no warning!” Just then, the mournful sound of a horn blasted through the night. Henslow looked up in disgust. “Too late for an alarm now! If we do not help them, those villagers will die!”

  “Go then,” said the mage. “But ’ware the Dread. The Unsouled cannot coordinate such an attack alone. I will provide what aid I can.”

  Henslow motioned for several of his men to follow and then sprinted across the square and down an alley between the dry goods store and blacksmith shop. Adam stuck close to Aristomus. In moments, they arrived at a side gate overlooking the village. Three bowmen launched arrows from the battlement atop the low wall.

  “Get down here!” snarled Henslow.

  “But, sir, we have orders to protect...” stammered an archer.

  “You will protect nothing by wasting arrows! The village is too distant for accuracy. You are as likely to hit a villager as the Unsouled.” Henslow pointed at two of the archers. “You two, come with me! And you,” he pointed at the third bowman, “seal this gate once we are through.”

  Henslow’s men removed the heavy wooden crossbar and pulled open the gate to reveal a nightmare come to life. Codtown sat at a higher elevation than the nearby village. Through the heavy smoke, they saw flames engulfing the thatched roofs of several homes, despite the earlier downpour. The screams sounded louder on this side of the wall and people fled through the streets as they headed toward the walled town. Adam paused and gripped his staff hard, palms sweaty. The strange scene seemed somehow familiar, as though he’d been here before. But his concentration broke as Aristomus tugged at his robe.

  “Pay attention, Adam,” rasped the mage. “I cannot protect you if you do not keep up!”

  Henslow motioned to two of his men. “Derrik, you and Aden protect Master Aristomus from the Unsouled. Should we face a Dread, he will need to focus all his attention there.

  “This way!” he shouted, heading downhill. As they got closer, the roar of the flames made speech difficult. “Stay together, everyone!”

  The group entered t
he village through a gap between two houses and made their way forward. While the smoke continued to thicken, they reached an open area Adam assumed must be the village green, the communal center surrounded by village homes. Most of the buildings on the far side were awash with flame. Adam held the crook of his elbow against his nose and mouth as he tried to filter the air. Despite the cold night, the tremendous heat pulled sweat from his pores.

  Just ahead, a small group of terrified villagers—women and children among them—ran from between two burning homes into the clearing. Soot and splattered blood stained their torn clothes. The men carried an assortment of wood axes, knives, scythes; whatever they’d found near to hand to use as a weapon. They paused and glanced at one another, their dirty faces pale with fear. With grim but resolute looks, they turned to face the way they’d come, determined to sacrifice themselves so their wives and children might escape.

  Henslow sent a man to escort the women and children back to the town. Then he continued toward the armed villagers, shouting to get their attention as he drew near. The men looked back just as the first of the Unsouled appeared from between the burning houses. The creatures’ red eyes glowed like fiery sparks.

  Heedless of weapons, the Unsouled fell on the closest villager. Blood sprayed from the man’s torn throat. The others tossed down their weapons to run just as a flood of the Unsouled poured into the clearing.

  “Flee!” Henslow shouted at the villagers. He pulled his sword and swung at an Unsouled tearing at the dead villager’s neck. His blade bit deep into the creature’s head and split it in half. The red light in the Unsouled’s eyes flickered and died. Placing his foot on the monster’s chest, the Captain wrenched his sword free before turning to face the next attacker.

  Training took over as the soldiers spread out in a semicircle designed to protect each other’s flank. The two archers hung back and launched arrows whenever the creatures threatened to encircle the group. Adam stayed behind with Aristomus, just behind the wall of soldiers.

  Then the faint, white aura sprang up around the mage. He raised his arms and a bolt of lightning shot from his staff to strike an Unsouled full in the chest. The blast threw the creature hard against a building yet untouched by fire. Its chest a charred and smoking ruin, the monster got right back up and charged again, undaunted.

  “Go for the heads, damn it!” shouted Henslow. “The heads!” Again, lightning shot from Aristomus’ staff. This time the creature’s head exploded and its body slumped to the ground.

  One soldier decapitated an Unsouled woman, but he overextended and lost his balance. Before he recovered, another of the creatures pulled him to the ground. He screamed as the Unsouled bit into his face, tearing his cheek open to the bone. The screams faded as two more of the creatures dragged him away. His comrades closed ranks, but every loss weakened the group, while the flood of Unsouled seemed endless. Forced back, the soldiers gave ground to avoid being overrun.

  The constant flashes of lightning from Aristomus’ staff dazzled the eyes. They came faster and faster until it seemed one solid bolt of lightning shot from the metal-shod tip. The devastation laid waste to the Unsouled on all sides. But when another soldier fell, the flood became an avalanche threatening to bury the small group of defenders. Henslow opened his mouth to order the retreat.

  Without warning, the Unsouled stopped their advance. Several cocked their heads as though listening to a voice only they could hear. Villagers still fled from the homes behind them, so Henslow motioned his soldiers to fall back while continuing to cover their flight. Aristomus leaned on his staff, his breath a ragged gasp. Adam felt helpless. He knew he should aid them somehow, but fear kept him glued to the mage’s side. He felt helpless to do anything but wait for the next charge to finish them.

  Then his vision wavered, the burning village turning indistinct. What the...? Adam rubbed his eyes and looked again. What is that?

  The surrounding flames seemed to dim. He shook his head, blinked hard, and looked again. No, the flames towered just as high, burned just as hot, as they did a few moments before. Yet it seemed they faded, as if something leached away the light.

  The effect intensified. And darkness took its place. It flowed like an oily liquid past the edge of the burning buildings and into the clearing. The Unsouled grew louder, more animated.

  The darkness edged closer to the small group of defenders. As soon as it grew wide enough to engulf all the Unsouled, something else appeared in the inky dark behind them, a creature out of a lunatic’s nightmare. Black as the gulf between stars, it gathered the shadowy darkness around itself like a thick cloak. It seemed hunched in on itself, yet still stood over seven feet tall with a thick body covered in coarse, black hair. The head seemed small for its size with tall, leathery ears flaring back from its skull, ending in needlelike points. A mouth full of razor-sharp teeth protruded from a wrinkled and upturned snout. Tiny black eyes, without iris or pupil, stared out from beneath a horn-like ridge bulging from the top of its head. The creature raised one thick, shaggy arm. Its hand ended in long claws, almost like elongated knives, which clicked together with a metallic rasp. It pointed straight at the group of defenders.

  “What the hell is that thing?” whispered Adam.

  His voice broke the spell. “’Ware the Dread!” shouted Aristomus. Lightning flashed and arced between the two heels of his staff.

  In response to the Dread’s silent command, the Unsouled surged forward. They drew strength from the darkness. And without doubt, their vision improved. They leapt at the soldiers with unerring accuracy, driving them back across the green toward the terrified villagers. To a man, the soldiers would have fallen in the first rush if not for the village men. They ran forward, fighting with clubs, rakes, sometimes with their bare hands, desperate to stem the tide and give their families time to escape.

  Aristomus became a fiery cataclysm of lightning. He threw bolt after bolt at the Dread. The beast shrugged off the blasts, deflecting most of them aside. By chance, a few struck the Unsouled from behind. But the darkness it projected grew less dense; the Dread forced to use more of its strength to fend off the mage.

  Adam ducked just as a sword passed over his head and through the neck of an Unsouled. As they retreated, it became harder for Adam to stay out of the defenders’ way. Every wrong step put a soldier at risk. Adam had never felt more afraid or helpless in his life.

  Then he heard a shrill scream that sliced straight through his heart. To his left, just inside the doorway to a cottage, he saw a young girl, only four or five years old. Left behind in the initial confusion of the attack, her eyes widened with terror as she screamed again. But now her screams drew the wrong attention. Three Unsouled broke away from the soldiers and rushed in her direction.

  Adam didn’t stop to think. He took off after the little girl.

  “Adam, no!” shouted the mage.

  Adam’s fear evaporated, overtaken by burning anger. As he ran, it grew until it filled him with a white hot rage. “Stay away from her!” he screamed. When he reached the first Unsouled, he used the only weapon he had. Adam swung his staff like a baseball bat and hit the creature in the back with everything he had. And as soon as his staff connected, it erupted in white flames.

  In shock, Adam nearly dropped it. But the flames didn’t hurt him. They danced over his fingers where he gripped the wood as though made of tinder. The staff felt warm in his grip and emitted a vibration faint enough to seem almost subliminal. Adam expected the creature to rise, so he drew back to hit it again.

  But the Unsouled remained crumpled on the ground, engulfed in white flames. It didn’t rise, but instead seemed to dissolve as though drenched in acid. Another scream pulled Adam’s attention back to the child. The two remaining Unsouled had reached the girl. She remained alive only because the two wrestled with one another as they reached for her at the doorway.

  Adam screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to distract the creatures and give himself time to reach the girl. On
e of the Unsouled turned and rushed him. But it gave the second free access to the cottage. Adam stabbed at the creature with his staff and tried to push it aside. But he misjudged his thrust, and the Unsouled grabbed hold. The white flames, which had almost guttered out, came alive once again. Adam felt the flames as they pulsed in the wood. Without conscious thought, he pushed them away.

  White fire surged down the shaft and exploded into the Unsouled. Heat blasted the creature and threw it back as uncontrolled energies pulsed through its body. When it fell, black smoke rose from empty eye sockets and a yawning mouth. Adam spun back to the house and prayed he wouldn’t arrive too late. But an empty doorway greeted him. The child must have fled inside. And the second creature had gone in after her.

  Adam rushed inside the small house, heedless of his own safety. Eyes dazzled by the staff’s white fire left him blind in the dark room. The Unsouled crashed into him. Adam fell back over a chair and the staff flew out of his hand. White flames guttered and winked out, leaving the room immersed in near total darkness. Adam’s head bounced hard against the floor, but he rolled and pushed the Unsouled away. Scrambling to his feet, he put a table between himself and the creature. It bought a precious few seconds to clear his head while his sight adjusted to the dark. Quiet whimpers from behind drew his attention, and he risked a quick look over his shoulder. The little girl had crawled under a bed. She lay on her side, knees pulled up tight against her chin.

  When he turned back, the Unsouled had regained its feet. The creature hissed and rushed him, but came up short against the edge of the table. Adam dodged the creature’s grasp and shoved hard. He pushed the table across the room, pinning the Unsouled against the wall. Then he looked around, frantic to find his staff. There! Next to the fireplace!