Jen grabbed his leg, picked him up off the ground, and threw him like a javelin through the saloon door. She walked past Edward who raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Not exactly subtle,” he said.
“Does subtlety strike you as the best approach to take with this idiot?”
Talon chuckled and Edward shook his head. “I suppose not.”
Jen pushed through the swinging doors in time to find the bouncer on his knees groaning and surrounded by staring patrons. It appeared she’d dented his aura of invincibility. Assuming the baron didn’t hang him, he’d need to find a new line of work.
The interior of the saloon surprised her with the quality of its furniture. Half a dozen fine hardwood card tables filled one side of the room. On the opposite side, a long, curved bar had a shelf behind it with dozens of bottles and a polished mirror that probably cost more than the patrons made in a year. A set of stairs led up to the second floor where the bouncer no doubt expected Jen to find work.
“Saloon’s closed!” Jen shouted. “Alec, Rhys, Talon, kindly escort the patrons off the premises, but be sure to check their identification first.”
“You want us to see if they have tattoos?” Alec asked.
Talon punched him in the shoulder. “Yes, dummy. Let’s get to work.”
While the others escorted the locals to the door, Jen and Edward collected the staff and lined them up in front of the bar. The bouncer had finally made it to his feet, so Jen kicked him in the back of the knees and sent him crashing to the floor.
“You stay there until I tell you to get up.”
“You’re dead, woman,” he snarled. “The Dragons are going to find you and cut your head off.”
“I’m not hard to find. They may have a bit more trouble getting my head. Now shut up, before I shut you up.”
He lapsed into sullen silence and the rest of the employees didn’t seem inclined to talk. The quiet didn’t last though. A man appeared at the top of the stairs, long wild hair going in every direction. He wore the flashiest red silk shirt Jen had ever seen and a long gold earring dangled from each ear.
“What the hell’s going on here? What are you people doing? I’ve got a business to run. Morg! What am I paying you for if not to keep people like this out?”
Jen glanced at the bouncer. “Morg? Really?”
He grunted, but wisely kept silent.
“And who are you?” Jen asked.
“This is my establishment and I’ll ask the questions. I want to know who you are and what you think you’re doing?”
“Edward?”
Her second vanished, reappeared beside the owner at the top of the steps, and grabbed him by the throat. Edward carried the croaking, kicking man down and deposited him on a stool in front of Jen.
“Here you go, Commander.”
“Thank you, Edward. Now, you were saying?”
The wild-haired man coughed a few times and said, “I’m Julianus the Magnificent, former sideshow operator and owner of this fine saloon.”
“Jennifer St. Cloud, commander of this fine squad of warlords. To be clear, I’m the one asking questions, not you. If you answer me, honestly and completely, I might be inclined to allow you to resume your business. If your answers displease me, I’ll see you hung for conspiring with murderers and thieves. Are we clear?”
Julianus went from preening and cocky to trembling and terrified in ten words. The rest of her team finished checking the guests and joined them at the bar. Rhys gave a little shake of his head. The lack of Dragons among the patrons didn’t surprise her.
“Alec, Talon, check the second floor. Rhys, the workers here.”
“Please,” Julianus said. “If you tell me what you’re looking for I might be able to help.”
In a blink Jen grabbed his arm and twisted it, no tattoo. Maybe this fool could be of use after all.
“I want to know where he came from.” Jen pointed at the still-prone Morg.
Julianus glanced at the bouncer then away as though he feared to draw the man’s attention. “I’m not sure where they came from—”
“Shut up, Julianus! Shut up if you know what’s good for you,” Morg said.
Jen stepped over and kicked him in the side of the head, not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to keep him quiet for a while. “Go on.”
“Yes.” Julianus let out a titter. “Three of them showed up about four months ago. Barged in here big as you please and made it clear that if I wanted to continue breathing, I’d be working for them. I agreed and they left Morg to keep an eye on me. Someone shows up once a month to collect their cut.”
Jen smiled an evil smile. “When are they due to return?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Outside the cave, the armor shone like polished gold when Marie-Bell mingled her soul force with the holy energy woven into the mail. That energy reflected back at her, making her feel stronger than ever. No hint of corruption remained. As a paladin, finding and destroying corrupt beings was her mission. That made her very skilled in detecting darkness, even in objects. She had no doubt that Grimgar’s corruption had been fully purged.
“So how does it feel?” Imogen asked.
Marie-Bell gave her a thumbs up. “Good to go.”
“Great, go where?”
Marie-Bell stared for a second. She didn’t actually know where the sword ended up. The legends said when the order’s greatest paladin, Aquaria, went into the Haunted Lands she intended to purge the darkness at its heart. Most interpreted that to mean she was going to the center of the corrupt country. According to the limited information remaining from that time period, the Mad King’s palace was the focal point of the ritual that created the Haunted Lands, so that seemed like a good place to start.
“South-east, to the heart of darkness.”
“That’s a little overdramatic.”
Marie-Bell smiled sheepishly. “I know, but I always wanted to make a grand pronouncement, you know, declare my intentions to the world. Now that I have the armor I’m halfway to completing my quest. That’s a big thing.”
“I suppose so.” A golden aura appeared around Imogen. “Shall we?”
Marie-Bell conjured her mount, climbed on, and they were off. Hopefully the second half of her mission went as smoothly as the first. She didn’t dare let her hopes get too high. Connor’s cave had been barely inside the Haunted Lands. It would take days or maybe weeks to cross the demon-infested wasteland. No, the real challenge had just begun.
They flew for most of an hour before Marie-Bell sensed something approaching. Donning the armor had made her awareness far sharper than before. It also filled her with warmth and confidence. The great heroes of her order had worn this armor into battle. She hardly felt worthy.
“Imogen!” When the sorcerer looked her way Marie-Bell pointed to the south. “Company coming.”
Imogen pulled up and hovered, peering into the gloom. “I can’t sense anything.”
“It’s still a ways out. Should we attack or let it come to us?”
“How strong?”
“Can’t tell yet, but if I can sense it this far out, it must be pretty powerful.”
Imogen grunted. “I’ve never been much for waiting. Let’s go get it.”
Marie-Bell grinned and readied her hammer. They flew south toward whatever hunted them. The demonic aura grew stronger as they went until Marie-Bell knew exactly where it was. The monster wasn’t as strong as Grimgar, but it was no weakling.
Imogen lashed out with a blast of golden energy. Something shimmered into view. The demon had a humanoid body covered in gray scales, bat wings, and a crocodile head. It flew backward with the impact of Imogen’s blast, but the scales resisted any damage.
“What is it?” Marie-Bell asked.
“Who cares? It’s ugly and evil. I say we kill it now and figure out what it is later.”
Marie-Bell liked that plan. She charged the head of her hammer with divine energy and raced in.
The armor grew warmer around her as it poured strength into her arm.
She swung, taking the demon square in the chest. Light exploded outward, blowing the demon to black motes.
Marie-Bell stared at the head of her hammer. She’d never delivered a blow that powerful before. What would she be capable of when she found the sword? Thinking about it frightened her.
“Wow.” Imogen flew beside her. “That was impressive. I thought we were in for a real fight. Looks like this is going to be an easy mission now that you have that armor.”
“Yeah. We should go. A blast like that will draw unwelcome attention.”
“Nothing you can’t handle.”
“Maybe, but we can’t fight every demon in the Haunted Lands, armor or no armor.”
Marie-Bell turned her mount back on course and willed it to maximum speed. For an instant she sensed another dark presence, but it disappeared so quickly she wasn’t sure. Maybe something thought better of attacking. Or so she hoped.
Half a day and three battles later, Marie-Bell’s newfound strength started to flag. Imogen’s skin had gone pale and waxy and sweat plastered her hair to her face. Much as she hated to stop with daylight remaining, if they failed to find a place to rest, they were going to get worn down to nothing after a single day.
“Did you see any shelter?” Marie-Bell asked.
“Just ruins, nothing that would work for the night. You look beat.”
“You should see yourself. We need to make camp.” A gust of wind sprang up and shot grit into Marie-Bell’s eyes. She glanced over her shoulder. “Heaven’s mercy.”
A wall of sand rushed toward them. A black aura of corruption ran through the storm. It felt like it had a will of its own, a will that wanted to claim their lives. Marie-Bell had read about such storms but hoped to avoid them. They were called Demon Winds and represented one of the gravest threats to crusaders traveling the Haunted Land.
She plunged toward the ground in hopes of spotting something useful for shelter. Armor or not, a storm like that would wear their magical protection down and scour the flesh from their bones.
The Demon Wind had closed half the distance between them when Imogen shouted, “There!”
Marie-Bell barely heard her over the howling storm. Only her awareness of Imogen’s soul force allowed her to turn left and stay on the sorcerer’s heels.
What had she seen? A moment later Marie-Bell spotted something jutting out of the endless sand. It looked like the top of a leaning tower. As long as it had four intact walls, it would do.
The Demon Wind was only a hundred yards away when they landed at the base of the tower. The roof was long gone, but somehow the door had survived. The walls looked solid too. She doubted they’d find anything better and they lacked the time to look anyway.
Imogen gestured and the door flew open.
They ran in and Marie-Bell slammed it shut half a second before the wind hit. Both women put their backs against the door. Even with her enhanced strength it was all Marie-Bell could do to keep it shut.
“The brackets look solid,” Imogen said. “Too bad we don’t have a bar.”
Marie-Bell did a quick estimation of the door’s width, shifted, and slammed her hammer across the opening and down into the brackets. It fit with inches to spare.
They stepped back. The door rattled but showed no signs of opening.
“Good thinking.” Imogen slumped to the sandy floor. “How about I fix dinner?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Imogen conjured a soul force fire and pulled an iron pot out of their supplies. Water and preserved meat and vegetables combined to form a quick soup. Marie-Bell held out for twenty minutes before the savory aroma got the best of her and she conjured a bowl and spoon.
Neither woman spoke as they ate. The storm more than made up for their quiet, roaring and rattling the door in a vain attempt to get at them. Marie-Bell shivered. They’d gotten lucky finding this place, but they couldn’t count on getting that lucky a second time. Unfortunately, there was no map of the Haunted Lands. Ruins poked up then got buried again with each storm.
Imogen yawned. “Do you mind taking first watch?”
“No, I can use internal soul force to stay awake. You go ahead and sleep.”
Imogen didn’t argue. “Wake me in five hours.”
Marie-Bell nodded and settled in against one of the tower walls. Even a demon wouldn’t want to be out in a storm like this, so she wasn’t overly concerned about unwelcome visitors. Still, better safe than sorry.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sig made a final pass around the spruce grove but sensed no others in hiding. It looked like Ilda was alone, foolish as that seemed. He sent extra power to his personal shield and landed across from her. A cast iron pot had been added to the fire. Whatever was in it smelled delicious.
“I wondered how long you’d fly around before you found the nerve to land,” Ilda said. “Take a seat. Lunch will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
Sig looked around one last time and sat. “You’ve got guts, setting up in the open like this. Gorn or one of the others might decide to get rid of you, thin out the competition.”
“I’d hear those fools coming long before they got close.” She smiled and his heart skipped a beat. “They put on quite a show with the linnorm.”
“You saw that?” He hadn’t sensed her presence or spotted her in the area.
“From a comfortable distance, I assure you. It’s amazing what you can make out with soul force enhanced vision.”
“I’ll bet. The only thing I learned is that attacking those worms straight on is a recipe for disaster. Their ice weapons didn’t bother it at all.”
“That’s because they didn’t attack the right place.” Ilda stirred the stew. “Did you notice the joint where the talon attaches to the mandible? That’s the weak point. One strike there and the talon will come free, I’m certain of it.”
“Is that what the dragon wanted us to figure out? I can’t imagine it would be something so simple.”
“The others didn’t notice it and neither did you.” Ilda’s voice held a hard edge. She didn’t like having her accomplishments minimized. Probably got a lot of that from the male ogres.
“Say you’re right. Why tell me? Why not just go get the talon yourself?”
“I can’t get it on my own.” Her honesty surprised him. “Its head moves too fast for a straight-line attack. I need to be able to maneuver.”
Sig thought he saw where she was going with this but wanted to make sure. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”
“That we team up. I’ll cut off a talon for each of us if you agree.”
He tapped his chin as he considered her offer. Teaming up wasn’t a bad idea, assuming he trusted her. And to his surprise, he did. Ogres were different enough from humans that he had trouble discerning the truth from lies, but his gut said she meant it. If they defeated this challenge together, they could go head to head in round two.
“Very well. What do you want me to do?”
“You can create walls of solid soul force, yes?”
He nodded.
“If you create multiple walls around its head, I can kick off them and attack from different angles until an opening appears. Once the talons are in my hand, you can shield me until I get clear. Then we go our separate ways.”
Her plan sounded straightforward and it would keep him a safe distance from the linnorm’s fangs, which pleased Sig a great deal. “When do we strike?”
“After lunch, the stew’s ready.”
Sig ate the surprisingly tasty stew – after checking it for poison of course – out of a conjured bowl, with a soul force spoon. The meat had a mildly spicy taste that he’d never experienced. It was far better than the half-cooked mammoth meat he’d had the night before.
When they were finished, Ilda stood and asked, “Are you prepared?”
“As prepared as a man can be to fight a giant armored worm
.”
“Good, you’ll have to fly us back since I don’t want to warn the beast we’re coming.”
Sig conjured a simple box around them and took off. When they’d been in the air for a few seconds he asked, “Are you afraid it will flee if it detects our approach?”
“No, that it will set a trap. Linnorms are nowhere near as stupid as some think. They hunt by digging pits in the tundra and waiting for mammoths to stumble into them. That argues for at least some level of awareness.”
Spiders did basically the same thing and Sig didn’t consider them especially bright. Intelligent or not, Sig didn’t mind flying them back. Ilda would need all her strength to have a chance of outrunning the linnorm.
Ten minutes later they reached the worm’s hole. It had a jagged edge made of upthrust ice and permafrost. A short distance down it grew so black Sig failed to see any sign of the linnorm. Maybe it had withdrawn to a safer locale. Either that or it hid just out of sight, waiting for them to get within striking distance. He shivered at the thought of the gruesome monster lurking down there.
Ilda’s expression remained serene. If she had any fear of the coming battle, she gave no outward sign. Sig considered himself reasonably good at hiding his emotions, but she put him to shame.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked.
Ilda drew her ice sword, a slender, though still formidable weapon measuring near five feet long. “I’ll jump down, it will detect my impact and come boiling out of the tunnel. When I spring at its head, you conjure the walls. After that either my reflexes will be good enough or they won’t.”
“You seem pretty calm about this. After what that thing did to the others, I’d be reluctant to attack it at close quarters.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “An ogre berserker doesn’t get very far showing fear in the face of a fierce opponent. Whether I live or die, it will be at the service of my queen. That is all I need.”
Ilda leapt over the side of his conjured box and dropped fifty feet to the ground. The impact drove her six inches into the snow. An instant later she was up and moving. Sig flew higher, to a hopefully safe distance. He wanted the dragon’s power, not to die in her service. Ilda was welcome to that honor.
Dreaming in the Dark: Chains of the Fallen Volume 1 (Soul Force Saga Book 4) Page 9
