Evil Within

by Richard S. Tuttle

  The large Lomite stared at his prisoner for a moment and then slowly nodded. Without another word, Talot led Gunnar out of the glade.

  * * *

  The sun was high in the sky when Gunnar reached the marsh where his friends had been captured. Kerzi, Horst, and Monte rose to their feet as Gunnar and Talot entered the clearing near the brambles. Talot spoke softly to the Lomite warriors, and they faded into the foliage.

  "You are alive," grinned Monte. "I feared you would not return. Did they hurt you?"

  "The Lomites were good hosts," replied Gunnar, "especially considering that we intruded upon their borders. We are to leave immediately and not return."

  Horst had already untied the horses and was smiling as he led them towards the break in the brambles. Talot had picked up their weapons and stood handing them out. Everyone's spirits appeared high.

  "Get on," Monte called to Kerzi as he leaped atop his mount.

  "I will walk," Kerzi shook his head. "It will feel good to stretch these old legs."

  Monte shrugged and rode through the brambles. He was the first to arrive at the wagon and checked it out thoroughly. Horst and Gunnar followed close behind.

  "What happened to the bodies?" asked Gunnar.

  "The Lomites buried them," answered Horst. "What happened back there?"

  "I had to reveal my identity," Gunnar answered softly. "Even at that, they were skeptical of my words."

  "They thought you were lying?" frowned Horst.

  "No," Gunnar answered. "They made it clear that they thought I believed every word, but they do not believe what I said is actually the truth. Lom will be unprepared for war when it comes."

  "Do not take that as a given," comforted Horst. "Lom has never been an aggressive nation, but neither has it ever been conquered. The swamps and jungles act as a natural deterrent to aggressors. Even the ancient Odessians discovered that."

  "We shall know the answer in time," shrugged Gunnar. "For now, we have other worries. Only half of Zinan's men attacked us. Where is the other half?"

  "Hard to say," mused Horst. "We are only halfway to the junction with the road leading to Oran, even though we have already spent more time than the trip normally takes from Caxon. I am beginning to question the wisdom of traveling on these secondary roads. We are just giving the dark prince more time to find us."

  "I agree," nodded Gunnar. "We will rejoin the Caxon-Kyland Road at our earliest opportunity."

  The two princes turned at the sound of a commotion at the wagon. They saw Kerzi on the seat arguing with Talot who was standing alongside the wagon. Gunnar and Horst immediately rode towards the wagon.

  "What is the problem?" asked Gunnar.

  "This great hulk wants to ride with us," scowled the old man. "I think he does not trust us to leave Lom and not return."

  Gunnar looked questioningly at the giant. Talot smiled sheepishly.

  "That is not the case," he said defensively. "I will take your word that you will not return without an invitation. I just want to ride with you, and I have no horse. Must I travel on foot behind the wagon?"

  "You want to travel with us?" frowned Gunnar. "Why?"

  "I am not sure," admitted the giant. "I heard the words you spoke to the council. While they may not have believed your tales, I do believe them. I want to help you discover the mysteries that you seek and learn how the Lomites can prepare for war."

  Kerzi stared at the giant with new understanding.

  "Your people will think that we have kidnapped you," Gunnar shook his head.

  "I told Balitardi that I was leaving," replied the Lomite. "Everything is proper."

  "I don't think you understand what you are getting into," Gunnar shook his head.

  "Get up on the seat," Kerzi ordered the Lomite. "You are holding up our departure. Do you know how to drive a wagon?"

  Talot smiled broadly and nodded vigorously.

  "Then you shall drive," grinned the merchant. "What is your name?"

  "I am called Talot," the giant answered as he started the team forward.

  "What do you make of that?" Gunnar asked as the wagon rolled through the woods, Talot and Kerzi talking up a storm.

  "It is the fates," laughed the Odessian. "We are now five. Someone must scout out ahead. I will see you later."

  Horst gently slapped his horse, and the Odessian mount bolted forward and raced around the wagon. Within moments Gunnar lost sight of the Odessian prince. Gunnar shook his head and smiled inwardly.

  * * *

  It had taken a week longer than a normal journey from Caxon, but the group finally reached the intersection of the Caxon-Kyland Road and the road to Oran. There had been no further sightings of the dark prince or any of his men. Talot had proved to be rather shy and soft-spoken, but Kerzi had managed to get the giant to open up once in a while, although the Lomite steadfastly refused to speak of the inner dealings of his country or its geography.

  Monte had tried to fashion a bow for the giant, but Talot's hands were too large, and Monte eventually decided that spears would be more appropriate. Talot readily agreed and spent most evenings chiseling stone spearheads while Monte smoothed and sanded shafts. By the time they reached the intersection, Talot had six well-balanced spears. Monte once again scouted ahead, while Horst and Gunnar rode together behind the wagon.

  "Which way do you think Zinan would have gone?" asked Gunnar.

  "There is no way to know," shrugged Horst. "I would assume that Salacia and Arin would love to capture him, so I would probably wager on Oran, but that is only a guess. Perhaps you should put him out of your mind for a while. We have not seen any sign of them in a week. They cannot search for you forever."

  "True," sighed Gunnar. "I do wish I could just dismiss it from my mind, but it doesn't work that way. The night I spent in Lom, I had terrible nightmares, and they all revolved around Prince Zinan. In every one of them, he had defeated me in some way, and he stood laughing at me. I know it is childish to dwell upon such things, but sometimes those images come unbidden into my mind. I cannot get rid of them."

  "Perhaps a change in scenery will help," smiled Horst. "In less than an hour we will cross the river into Salacia."

  * * *

  Prince Zinan pulled the hood over his head and cracked open the door to his room. He saw the familiar face of Asgar and opened the door wider. The Caroomite entered the room, and the dark prince quickly closed the door.

  "Were you successful?" asked the hooded man as he sat on the edge of the bed.

  "I was," beamed Asgar. "We now have six spies in the city of Kyland. One of them even has access to the palace."

  "And the army barracks?" asked Prince Zinan as he rose and crossed the small room.

  "Two of them have access to the barracks, Chike," smiled Asgar. "Nothing can happen in this city without us knowing about it."

  "Excellent," Chike replied as he placed a chair facing away from the bed. "Sit down and relax."

  Chike had returned to sitting on the bed and Asgar reached for the chair to turn it around so he was facing his master.

  "Leave it as I placed it," Chike said sternly.

  Asgar frowned heavily with confusion, but he sat as he was told to. Chike, outside the field of vision of his servant, threw back his hood revealing his still somewhat boyish features. He reached forward and placed his hands on Asgar's head. The servant flinched, but he did not move nor try to turn around.

  "What are you doing, Chike?" Asgar asked with a slight trembling in his voice.

  "I am searching your memories," Prince Zinan said softly. "Close your eyes and think about sleep."

  Zinan inhaled deeply as he felt the Talent seeping into his victim's mind. Images and sounds began to invade Zinan's mind in an ever-increasing flow of information. There were memories of the other senses as well, but the dark prince filtered them out. He knew exactly what he was looking for. His only difficulties were in understanding how old the particular memories were. A remembrance of a twenty-year-old ma
n that was gathered ten years earlier would not resemble the remembrance of a thirty-year-old man gathered today. He had to be extremely careful to put the memories in context.

  Eventually the dark prince focused on a particular man. He traced the man's lineage and listened to his voice. He subconsciously nodded in approval.

  "Tell me about Prince Calitar," commanded Zinan.

  "He is not in the line of succession," Asgar answered in a wooden voice. "He will never be king of Caroom."

  "More," snapped the dark prince. "When did you last see him? How old is he? Describe him?"

  "He is around twenty-years-old," answered Asgar. "He was in Caxon last winter. I delivered packages to him that he had purchased in the marketplace. He is neither handsome nor ugly, neither tall nor short. You would not call him fat or lean. His eyes are green and his hair jet black. He is remarkably unremarkable except for the scar on his cheek. It is said that he fell from a wall when he was young. I heard a bolt protruding from the wall tore his cheek. The prince is well liked by most people, but he is considered a bit of a lay about."

  Zinan nodded in satisfaction that he had found what he was looking for. He removed his hands from Asgar's head and cupped them to his own face. He closed his eyes as he concentrated and felt the features of his face changing. In just a few moments the tingling sensation went away, and the prince dropped his hands. He scrambled through his pack for a mirror and held it before his new face. He smirked with confidence as he viewed the results of his magic.

  "Look at me," commanded the dark prince.

  Asgar opened his eyes and turned around.

  "Prince Calitar?" gasped Asgar. "I had no idea that it was you that I served. I hope my words did not offend you," he added as he bowed his head.

  "You have done well, Asgar," grinned the dark prince. "Go and tend to your spies. I will come back to check on you in the future. Do not disappoint me."

  "I will not disappoint you, Master," Asgar bowed low as he rose from the chair.

  As soon as Asgar had left the room, Prince Calitar gathered his belongings and abandoned the room. He retrieved his horse from the stables and road out of the city of Kyland.

  Chapter 17 - Bridge to Nowhere

  Bridge to Nowhere

  Monte slowed as he crossed the bridge over the Salacian River. He had never been this far west in his travels, and he was excited at the prospect of visiting a foreign country. He stared down at the rushing water as it sped under the bridge, and then his eyes rose to the forested banks of Salacia. He laughed inwardly as he compared the bank on one side of the river to the bank on the other side. There really wasn't any difference at all. If he hadn't already known that the Salacian River was the boundary between Caroom and Salacia, he would never have realized that he was entering a new kingdom.

  He meandered slowly across the bridge as he continued to stare at the river. The swirling water mesmerized him. He only tore his eyes away when he heard the wagon approaching in the distance. He looked back and saw that Kerzi was already halfway across the bridge. He suddenly realized that he was supposed to be scouting and not sightseeing. He was only a short distance from the Salacian terminus of the bridge when he slapped his horse hard and hunkered down to race ahead. It was that very swift movement that saved his life.

  As Monte's horse galloped off the bridge, arrows from the forests on both sides of the road flew towards him. Most of the arrows flew by closely over his ducked head, but two of them struck the horse's flanks. The horse sped along the road as another volley of arrows soared towards the Caroomite.

  In the center of the bridge, Kerzi hauled back on the reins, bringing the wagon to a halt. Gunnar and Horst immediately flanked the wagon.

  "What is it?" Gunnar demanded. "Why did you stop?

  "It's an ambush," Kerzi declared. "There are men up ahead on both sides of the road hidden in the forest."

  "Monte?" questioned Gunnar.

  "It looks like he made it through," answered the merchant, "but I am not sure if he was hit or not. We need to turn this wagon around."

  "The bridge is too narrow to turn around," Gunnar shook his head.

  "I can help with that," volunteered Talot as he stepped down from the seat and flexed his arms.

  "Wait," interrupted Horst. "If these are the other fifteen men that the dark prince sent after us, they must have been waiting a long time for us to reach this bridge. Getting off this bridge will not be as easy as turning around."

  "I agree," nodded Gunnar as he looked back towards the Caroom end of the bridge. "They have had plenty of time to think about this ambush. They most certainly waited until we were all on the bridge before attacking."

  "Then what are we to do?" asked Kerzi. "We cannot just sit in the middle of the bridge and wait for darkness to overtake us."

  "No, we can't," agreed Gunnar. "We do have some things at our disposal that they will not be expecting, though."

  "What?" questioned the merchant.

  "Your cargo for one," answered Gunnar. "You have some fine hardwoods in your wagon. Their arrows cannot pierce a barrier made of that."

  "Good," Horst nodded in appreciation. "Talot and Kerzi can build up the sides of the wagon with the hardwoods and ride in the center. That might get them through a hail of arrows."

  "Might get us through?" scowled Kerzi. "And what are we going to do when they decide to charge the wagon and overturn it?"

  "That is why Talot will be riding with you," smiled Horst. "Hand me your wineskin."

  The old man shook his head in confusion, but he handed the wineskin to the Odessian. Horst took a long swig from the wineskin and then started pouring the contents onto the bridge.

  "What are you doing?" barked Kerzi. "We may need that wine before this day is through."

  "You talk of Kerzi and me riding in the wagon," remarked Talot, "but nothing of you and Gunnar. Where will you be?"

  Horst pulled a knife and split the wineskin in two. He placed the two pieces flat on the seat of the wagon and sliced two narrow strips off the end of each. He handed one large piece and two small strips to Gunnar and took the remaining pieces for himself.

  "Use it to keep your bow string dry," Horst said to Gunnar as he nodded towards the river.

  A shiver raced up Gunnar's spine, but he nodded his understanding.

  "Talot," Gunnar said, "help Kerzi built a fortress on the bed of the wagon. Angle the boards in the shape of a diamond. I do not want either of you getting pierced by an arrow after you have sped by the enemy."

  Talot nodded and began ripping the canvas covering off the wagon.

  "Easy," growled Kerzi. "We want to be able to put this all together again. There is no need to destroy anything. It will be bad enough trying to sell wood with a bunch of arrows stuck in it."

  Gunnar smiled and shook his head as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. He aimed high in the air over the northern side of the road in Salacia and let the arrow fly.

  "What was that for?" asked Horst.

  "There is no way that we are going to be able to go upstream," shrugged Gunnar. "If Monte is alive and was able to see my arrow, he will remember what it means."

  "For him to take to the woods on that side of the road," Horst nodded and grinned, "which just happens to be the upstream side of the road. Well done."

  "If we can get the Borundans between us," declared Gunnar, "Kerzi and Talot will have a better chance of making it through the ambush. There is one problem with your plan, though."

  "Only one?" questioned the Odessian as he took his bowstring and placed it in the large piece of the wineskin and tied it closed with the two thin strips.

  "The attackers on the Caroom side of the bridge," replied Gunnar. "If they decide to charge after you and I have gone over the side, the wagon will never make it."

  Horst turned and stared towards Caroom. He sighed heavily and nodded in agreement as he saw movement in the trees near the end of the bridge.

  "They are getting impatient," th
e Odessian declared as he walked to the rail of the bridge and stared down into the water. "Whatever we do, it must be done soon."

  "One of us must stay on the bridge," decided Gunnar as he stood alongside the Odessian and stared down at the river. "That is the only way to make sure that the others get off."

  "I agree," Horst finally said as he backed away from the rail and held out the bowstring he had wrapped up. "Give me your string."

  "Why you?" argued Gunnar. "I already have people trying to kill me. If I die this whole thing can end, and everyone can go back to their peaceful lives."

  "Because I looked over the railing to the river below," grinned Horst, "and I am not going to subject a fine Odessian horse to such a jump. Give me your string."

  Gunnar could not help laughing as he unstrung his bow and handed the string to his friend.

  "What is so funny?" asked Horst.

  "The two of us fighting over how we will die," answered Gunnar as he embraced his friend. "May we meet again, my friend."

  Gunnar strapped his bow to his back and left his sword in the wagon. He tucked the wineskin into his waistband and mounted his horse. He rode towards Caroom and saw the attackers begin to move as they wondered what he was up to. He turned his back on them and slapped his horse hard. As the horse raced towards the wagon sitting in the middle of the bridge, Gunnar pulled hard on the reins. The horse leaped over the railing of the bridge, and Gunnar hung on for his life.

  The drop was much farther than Gunnar had expected. He felt as if he had been falling forever when the horse finally hit the water with a tremendous splash. Both horse and rider plunged under the icy cold water. For several long seconds, Gunnar felt as if he was floating in air. His body became detached from his mount, only his hold on the reins kept any semblance of connection between man and beast. As his lungs began to ache for air, Gunnar's head broke the surface of the water and he inhaled greedily. His horse surfaced alongside him screaming for air.

  Gunnar had somehow managed to get turned around, and he was surprised to see the bridge so distant from him. He had not planned to travel so far downstream, but the current was racing. He knew that he had to get to the western bank of the river soon, or he would not play a role in the coming battle. As Gunnar turned to look at the river ahead him, he saw that the river made a sharp bend, which would make getting to the western bank easier, but there were also sharp rocks protruding from the water.