The Toldar Series Box Set

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The Toldar Series Box Set Page 17

by Matt Mememaro


  “I know,” he said kneeling by the bed. “I’m here for you now.”

  “Come, join me and let us recreate our wedding night,” Sophia said. “Let us be one again, Barros.” She rose from the bed taking his hands in hers.

  “Forgive me for everything I have done,” he said.

  Sophia turned her head confused. “You haven’t done anything, my love. Come, lie on the bed with me,” she said.

  Barros hesitated. “You’re different from how I remember you. You’re not the woman I fell in love with.” A flash of something metallic around her neck stole his attention. A memory of seeing something similar to the necklace she was wearing, flashed into his head. But it could not be. His hand went to his own chest to reassure him of what hung there. He paused as his mind became clear once more. “You’re Bonnie Grata!”

  Bonnie snarled, her complexion changing faster than Barros could blink, her fangs erupting out of her mouth. There was a roar from outside and Bonnie sprung off the bed, her angry jaws reaching for Barros’ throat. He caught her in mid-flight with a jab to the throat, cutting her off.

  “How many of you are here?” he asked.

  “More than you and your friend will be able to handle.” Bonnie said, gasping for breath.

  Barros applied more pressure to her windpipe, crushing the life out of her. With two hands he picked her off her feet, holding her skull. Barros ignored the swinging claws as he pushed his hands together. With a loud scream, Bonnie’s head neared breaking point as her bones began to crack. A few seconds later, her head burst, covering Barros in the black Vampire blood. He ripped the fifth amulet from her neck and joined it with the other two that he wore. Retrieving his crossbow, Barros walked out to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard.

  Rowan was surrounded by a pack of a dozen Vampires, swinging his axe in the large circular arcs Barros was all too familiar with. The Highlander missed with one swing, smashing it down through a table, breaking it in half. Barros leveled his crossbow, opening fire on the Vampires attacking Rowan. Within seconds, only three remained standing. The Highlander struck, launching his axe into the belly of his opponent, bringing it up and knocking the Vampire’s jaw before smashing it down onto the skull of another.

  Barros’ final shot took the last uninjured Vampire in the throat seconds before Rowan cleanly decapitated the last one standing. Barros strode down the stairs, looking impressed with his work.

  Rowan cleaned his axe. “I could have handled that, you know,” the Highlander said.

  “From where I stood it looked like you needed the help,” Barros said. “Besides, I don’t like letting you have all the fun. Where’s that pretty girl that was with you at the bar?”

  “Over there somewhere,” Rowan said. “Had to decapitate her, which is a bit unfortunate for me. But it seemed like some of the patrons happened to be Vampires here tonight. I fucking hate it how they can take on a human form.”

  “You did make a mess of the place. I mean the owner will hardly thank us for this. You seemed to have killed half the staff and clients,” Barros said, laughing and slapping Rowan on the back.

  “We’ll just have to send them some gold to pay for the repairs. I did get attacked first, but as they are now dead, they can hardly be relied upon to pay anything. Maybe we could send a petition to a Vampire and order them to pay up?” Rowan said.

  “Always a possibility. Now on a serious note, we need to get out of here, pronto,” Barros said. “We don’t want to get caught in here when these Vampire’s friends arrive to claim their bodies.”

  “Aye, you’re right, we need to get back to the Huntrey and comb the libraries of all the Huntrey’s to see if we can find information on the whereabouts of the fifth amulet. We shall need the gods on our side, as Lars never told anyone where he hid them.”

  Barros nodded. “I also need to visit the Fortress. I have a gift to give Abner and I need to check in with Malvrok. His wife may need more of the potion I’ve been brewing for her.”

  “Take all the time you need, my friend. We’ll examine the amulets when you return. Malvrok is your brother and he’ll want to see you. Now go,” Rowan said.

  24

  A Parting Gift

  Several days later, the Bulldrag Lake surrounded by the forest that bordered its eastern edge and Malvrok’s forest, came into sight. Barros found himself strangely at peace as he rode in solitude. The birds sailing overhead were the only interaction he had with another living creature, aside from his horse. A fishing boat came close to him once, only to retreat back down the shoreline to report to Malvrok. No doubt his brother would send out a scouting party to search for the Hunter.

  Barros enjoyed the game of cat and mouse he played with Malvrok’s men avoiding detection amongst the thick forest. As he ventured south, he remained just within sight of the lake, following it until he could hear the sounds of the Fortress. Barros dismounted several hundred meters from the double walls that were now completed. It was an impressive sight, and he was pleased to see his brother had come so far in a few short years. He gathered from his horse, what he needed for the journey including a long thin package wrapped in a cloth.

  Sentries dressed in thick leather armor lined the walls, pacing the entire length. Barros regarded their movements. The guard’s eyes randomly swept the forest floor below, covering most of the area before the first wall in a few seconds. Their movements were remnant of Sauriaan Hunters, a back and forth drill with stops at random increments along their path.

  Malvrok had taught his people well, thought Barros as he watched them from his camouflaged location. Slipping past them would be near impossible, but the low light provided him with much needed cover. Barros crawled forward, inches at a time; his miss matched green and brown cloak and hood helping him blend into his surroundings. Within minutes of deliberate stop and start crawl, Barros was underneath the wall.

  He looked up at the ten-meter high wall and considered his options. The grappling hook he carried would be too loud; he’d have to draw his climbing knives. The process of climbing was as slow as the crawl. In silence, he wedged each knife into a crack in the wall.

  Barros raised himself onto the battlements and dropped into cover behind a large stack of wooden crates. He waited for the sentry, walking towards him, to stop and turn outwards. The Hunter looked up at the second wall and saw another sentry, longbow in hand, preparing to stop. Without hesitation Barros threw himself off the first wall and rolled into the shadow of the second.

  With no voices or alarms raised, Barros stood and marched confidently through the second gate. For some reason it had been left open against Fortress policy. Barros took to the winding backstreets that would eventually lead to Malvrok’s house. He ducked low as he rounded a corner, careful to avoid someone looking through their window. Barros turned into a second alley and came face to face with the drawstrings of two longbows.

  “Halt!” a commanding voice called out, breaking the silence.

  Barros turned, flicking his crossbow off his back and pointing it at his challenger. Three men stood in the alley before him, their faces covered. The tallest amongst the group, removed his hood.

  “Of course it’s you. Barros.” Malvrok smiled at his brother. “It’s been six years since you last pointed a crossbow at me.”

  “It probably won’t be the last time either.” Barros embraced his brother.

  “If you’re here to see me, why didn’t you just knock?” Malvrok asked.

  “Your men wouldn’t be doing their job if I made things too easy. What if an assassin was to slip into this place during the dead of night, hell bent on killing you? What would you do?” Barros backed away, breaking the embrace.

  “Probably kill them myself,” Malvrok said. “You know I sleep with a dagger under my pillow and my sword beside my bed.”

  “That’d go down well when you’re doing your thing with Talia,” Barros said.

  “The dagger is for her to use, while I get to my sword. She’s not
bad, you know. I trained her how to use the damn thing,” Malvrok said.

  “In other words, I should be more worried if she’s wanting to stab the man next to me,” Barros said.

  “I’m glad you haven’t changed since I last saw you,” Malvrok said. “Men, get back to your posts and thank you for your assistance.”

  Barros heard footsteps from above him, tapping down on the roof tiles above. He saw the flash of a cloak and longbow as a man leapt overhead from one building to the other. “Just how many men did you have with you?”

  “Around two dozen,” Malvrok said. “I had to make sure if I couldn’t kill you, Hunter, that someone else could do the job.”

  “If you had a hundred men, that wouldn’t help you Mal,” Barros said.

  “Oh and you’re so sure of that are you, Big Bear?” Malvrok’s eyes lit up, a clear challenge appearing in them. “Tell me, who beat you in a sword fight the last time we battled?”

  “You did, but it was ten years ago,” Barros said. “Hardly relevant now. Let’s get back to yours and talk like civilized men, not children.”

  “Things seem to have improved greatly since the last time I visited,” Barros said as he took a sip of the fine Renori spice wine.

  “They are indeed,” Malvrok said. “We got rid of that disease that was killing our livestock. Turns out a Vampire had slipped right under my nose.”

  “Don’t worry, Mal. We’re all bound to slip up once or twice when it comes to a Vampire. Even I’ve had my moments,” Barros said.

  “What, you, the flawless son? You’re the man that killed every Vampire standing in his way when he went out to find father after he didn’t return from a scouting trip. You were only fifteen, Barros. Whatever your faults are, in your life you’ve more than made up for them,” Malvrok said. “And even in your biggest mistake, you somehow managed to turn that into an asset for the Hunters.”

  “Abner will only succeed if you train him well,” Barros said placing the cloth package onto the table. Malvrok eyed the parcel. “Yes, it’s what you think it is.”

  “You can’t seriously be giving it to him now?” Malvrok asked. “He’s six years old for fuck’s sake, Bear. When we train them we start with wooden blades, not the real deal. Hell, we don’t even know if he’ll react to that blade. We don't want the Dreyth activating when he's around it.”

  “Abner will adapt or perish,” Barros said. “He’ll use this sword as soon as he learns how to swing a wooden one.”

  “Barros, need I remind you that the boy is six?”

  “I know how old he is.”

  “Then treat him like a child. He needs to go through everything in the proper order, to get the most out of his training,” Malvrok said. “Regardless of what blood he has running through his veins.”

  “Abner is my son and your nephew. I left him here for you to train!” Barros raised his voice.

  “And therefore it is my responsibility to train him how I see fit. Not yours, Barros. You gave up the right to have a say in how the boy is raised when you left him here. You know that. Don’t go bringing this back on me!”

  “Fine, you train him how you want and I’ll take over when he gets to the Huntrey.” Barros curled his upper lip.

  “That was the original agreement we had, was it not? You’ve become strange, there’s something different about you. What’s gotten into you, Bear?” Malvrok asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Barros said. “I’m sorry. Just give Abner the sword when you think he’s ready. I best leave before we come to blows.”

  “Yes, that would be best,” Malvrok said. “The gates will be open for you. I’ll see to it that Abner receives his gift when he is ready. Just remember, I am always here for you, Bear. That’s what family does even when you think you’re alone in the world. Calm your mind and find that inner peace you once had. I grew stronger through Talia and the Fortress. You can surely find something to grow strong through as well.” He picked up the sword and carried it away as Barros left.

  The Fortress was truly a bustling area, with hundreds of people in the main streets going about all sorts of daily activities. Men and women traded with vendors, handing over small coins for goods such as linen and other essential items. Children played down by the water while the small rafted fishing boats docked alongside them.

  The armored men patrolled the walls, watching over everything inside and outside the Fortress but what caught Barros’ attention the most, were three boys, no older than ten that were crouched beside a mound of rocks. As Barros neared them, he saw they were tossing stones at ants in an attempt to squash them.

  “Should you boys be doing that?” he asked as he walked up behind them.

  The three boys turned, gazing up at Barros, their faces filled with shock. “No sir,” they muttered.

  “There’s no need to be embarrassed or ashamed of what you’ve done,” Barros said kneeling down next to them. “I need you to do a special job for me.”

  One boy’s eyes lit up. He had been gazing at Barros the entire time he spoke. “What do you need us to do, sir?” he asked.

  “Do any of you know Abner?” The three of them nodded their heads. “I need to know if he has anyone he is close to,” Barros said.

  “Umm… there’s Malvrok who’s basically his dad. Some of us even think he is. They kind of look similar,” one boy thought out loud.

  “Ok start again,” Barros said. “Is there anyone around your size or just smaller than you that you might be able to pick on?”

  “Everyone knows there’s Lois he’s close to,” the first boy said. “You must be either stupid or not from here to not know that.”

  “Be careful who you insult, little man. It may hurt you one day,” Barros said. “Now this job is simple. I need you to pick on this Lois, make sure Abner can see you doing it. You’ll have to hurt her, just like you were hurting those ants. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” the boys said in unison.

  “Good, now I don’t want you to take things too far. Lois has to still be able to breathe once you’re done with her. Abner and Malvrok would be very upset if something were to permanently happen to her.”

  “What do we get out of this?” the first boy asked, sticking his nose up at Barros.

  “Does ten gold pieces between the three of you sound like a good deal?” Barros asked.

  The boy’s faces soured. “No, that doesn’t go evenly. You really are stupid. We want twelve.”

  “Fine,” Barros said pulling the additional gold out of his pocket. “But just know that if you boys don’t do this, I will do something very bad to you. I kill bad people for a living and I wouldn’t want to hurt three young boys, now would I?” The boys shook their heads in unison. “Good, run along then and remember, find Lois and hurt her. But make sure Abner sees it or everything you do, will be for nothing. I’ll be watching, boys.”

  25

  The Beginning

  The sun rose over the Fortress, slowly beginning to break through the gaps in the trees, shining light into Abner’s eyes as he threw on a plain white linen tunic. With a start he quickly pulled on his boots, fearing he would be late to the chicken coup. Even though he was a young boy, Malvrok used every able hand to the best of their ability.

  Abner was of average height and size for his age and he often tended to the various livestock at the Fortress with his older friend Hanson. While they had only been paired together for a short amount of time, Hanson respected Abner and the skills he possessed in assisting with the animals. The older boy treated Abner like a baby brother and always kept an eye on him.

  Abner bounded out of Malvrok’s guest room where he had lived for as long as he could remember, struggling to pull a cloth shirt over his light brown hair. Talia was busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen as he ran past, barely stopping for a bite to eat. She smiled and said goodbye to him as he ran out the door towards the chicken coup at the southern side of the Fortress.

  Hanson waited for him on
the main street next to the majority of the market stalls. He towered above Abner and bore a broader frame. His hair was similar to Abner’s, only twice as long, curling underneath his ears. Hanson wore a plain leather vest with matching pants and boots. He was carrying several large net baskets. He smiled as Abner raced towards him full of energy.

  “Do you think Natty will have laid eggs today?” Abner asked, referring to the biggest hen inside the coup.

  “Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Hanson said. “We don’t know for sure until we get there. One of the other hens might have had a clutch overnight.”

  Within minutes, the friends arrived at the southern-most chicken pen that backed onto the forest. The Fortress’s livestock feared no predators, and a small fence, no more than knee high on Hanson surrounded the chicken house. There were many chicken coups scattered throughout the Fortress in order to ensure an even spread of poultry to each part of the town.

  Abner dived in head first, reaching through the flurry of feathers and claws that assaulted him. Natty was at the back and he made a grab for her first, shoving the plump chicken off her roost. Abner was pleased to find one warm brown egg waiting for him. He retreated back to the outside world.

  “She’s finally had one!” he said.

  “Good, get back in there and get me the rest,” Hanson said. “Hopefully we’ll get a decent reward for being scheduled on a good day.”

  Abner dove back into the chicken house, grabbing a handful of eggs at a time, fitting two in each hand. Every time he returned to Hanson he placed them into the basket that Hanson carried. After half a dozen trips Abner was finally empty-handed.

  Hanson smiled down at his younger friend. “Nice work, Ab. Now you get going to our eastern pen and start collecting. I’ll need to get these to Lois’ mother before the sun rises.”

  Abner nodded his compliance, taking a spare basket from Hanson and taking off towards the eastern chicken pen. In his short life, Abner had already memorized the shortest routes throughout the Fortress. He ducked down an alley, heading back towards Malvrok’s house. As he passed, he saw dozens of warriors on the training fields with his father figure.

 

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