Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  “Guards!” Kertac yelled. He began recovering what he could from the mess. He crouched to retrieve pieces of smashed pumpkin, searching for anything salvageable. Instead, he found what had destroyed his table. The ravaged body of an old woman lay on the cobblestones, unmoving amidst various bits of produce. Her face and throat bore wide raw gashes and her eyes were gone.

  “Kertac!” Old Mulson called out from the next booth, his lifelong competitor and nemesis. “Help!”

  Kertac tore his eyes away from the woman to see Mulson’s body crumple to the ground. “Guards,” he croaked once more in fright.

  He was torn. Should he help his neighbor, save his food, or run for his life? He sought guards only to find they, too, were under attack. A mass panic presided over the market. Everyone was running or screaming as hundreds of winged creatures dived from the sky. The monsters lifted people off the ground and flew away, or killed them where they stood.

  “I don’t understand! What’s going on?”

  A loud clicking noise behind him made Kertac whirl around. A large majestic bird with a dark crimson breast and velvety purple wings approached. The bird was half his height, and broad. Its legs were thick and blood dripped from its long metal beak. It screamed at him, and a feathery fan of blinking eyes popped up from its head as it dove at his face.

  Angst had to lie in the rubble and think about things for a moment. Like skipping a stone across a lake, Ivan had flung him into the city, and Angst remembered bouncing along the top of several buildings before rolling off the roof of a third and finally landing hard on the ground. It could only be magic, blind luck, or a combination of both that kept him alive. Sadly, neither had kept him from the pain. Every muscle in his body felt as though it had been ripped out and replaced several times with a bent fork.

  The pain helped him focus, however, and he remembered that his friends were in danger. With a loud groan, he stood and picked up Chryslaenor, returning the giant blade to his back. Angst was too disoriented to run, so he called forth his swifen. The unfortunate-looking ram-thing made its way through the debris loudly and Angst threw his leg over to mount with a painful cringe. His friends were easy to find; Angst merely followed the noise. It was louder than any jousting tournament he’d ever attended.

  His mind raced as he approached. Angst thought of Heather, and of Tori, and even of Wizard’s Revenge. At this moment, he truly longed to be back where there was at least some small bit of normal left in Ehrde, a place where his friends could be safe. Home, or anywhere but here, where their lives were threatened by absolute chaos in its purest form.

  A dark center had formed in the storm directly over the stadium, the clouds surrounding it like an apocalyptic halo. Before Ivan had smacked him over nearby buildings, the newly-changed Fulk’han had filled every level of the deep limestone risers circling the arena. Now the risers were empty as Fulk’han creatures swarmed to attack his companions in the center. Angst rode down into the maw, unnoticed amidst the chaos, in spite of his clattery swifen.

  From behind Ivan, Angst saw Tarness muscling back scores of gray men, like a seawall defending against lashing ocean waves. Aerella stood several feet to his left, one arm maintaining an invisible barrier against throngs of the purple women while painfully bright rays of light shot from her other hand, directly at Ivan.

  Rose and Dallow fought the creatures who made it past Tarness or Aerella, clearing a path for Hector, who was cutting loose.

  After returning to the middle of the group, Hector briefly checked to make sure everyone was safe before jumping back into the fray. He leaped onto Tarness’s shoulders and launched himself into the air. He threw knives that were pulled from who-knew-where, each of them striking a different target with deadly precision. Hector landed on the fresh heap of corpses and rolled to his next victim, whom he dissected with a short sword Angst had never seen him carry. Hector was a whirling frenzy of movement, and no enemy within reach lived for more than a breath’s time after his approach. Even from this distance, Angst could see the larkish smile on his old friend’s face.

  Angst had been advancing slowly, analyzing what used to be Ivan. He was waiting for an opportunity to strike when Ivan suddenly beat on Aerella’s invisible barricade. His monstrous arms rose high into the air and landed with enough force to shake the surrounding ground. Aerella winced at the impact, withdrawing her attack on Ivan to reinforce the magical barrier with both hands. Ivan’s fists pummeled at the shield, and Aerella screamed. A crack began to form along the edge, like the one created by the phantom holes.

  Realizing there was no ideal time to bring the fight, Angst barreled forward on his ram. He raised Chryslaenor high in the air and yelled, “Ivan!”

  His mount moved quickly, allowing Angst to ride up behind the monster. He sliced into the thick purple cables where Ivan’s calf had once been and continued riding to carve into the other one. Ivan immediately stopped beating on Aerella’s shield and grabbed at him. Angst leaped off the ram, tumbling out of reach, and swung wildly at the giant arm as it passed, carving into the back of Ivan’s hand.

  Ivan’s legs had already started to heal, oozing together as the worm-like exterior reformed to contain the darkness held within. Ivan continued swinging his great arms, grabbing desperately for Angst. But Angst kept just out of reach, dashing in to stab Ivan’s foot.

  This was nothing like attacking a disoriented monster fresh from the Vex’kvette. Ivan was fast, too fast to see clearly, and he moved with intent. What remained of Ivan after the metamorphosis—his training as a knight and his instincts as a fighter—only added another layer of threat to the raw power he wielded. The training made him dangerous and the power made him unpredictable.

  “Enough!” the Ivan-creature yelled, his voice echoing off the arena stairs. In a blur of motion, he stepped back and caught Angst up in his hand, lifting him high into the air.

  Angst couldn’t breathe in the crushing grip. He struggled to pull Chryslaenor from its trappings in the cold violet hand. With every ounce of power he could muster, he yanked his blade free and buried it deep into the hand that held him. Ivan pulled Angst away with his left hand, leaving the giant sword buried in his right.

  “No!” Aerella yelled. She allowed the shield to dissolve and pointed both palms at Ivan. A barrage of harsh light and symbols shot from her hands, striking Ivan in the chest.

  “I’m done with you,” Ivan said to Aerella with a sneer. “You don’t even belong here!” He lifted his right hand and a gaping vortex opened in the middle of his palm. A geyser of the nighttime sky contained within Ivan’s body poured out, engulfing Aerella in cloudy stars. She screamed and struggled as the stars twisted and swirled. The mass rolled, consuming itself until there was nothing, taking Aerella with it into the void.

  Ivan held Angst in front of his face. “I’m so glad you came back for more!” Ivan said maniacally. He lifted Angst over his head and threw him to the ground, hard.

  There was a loud snap as he landed, followed by several sickening pops and rips. Blood gushed from his thigh where his femur had broken and torn through his skin. He screamed in anguish, unable to stand or move. Scar was lying next to him, whimpering pitifully. The pup seemed to be growing as bubbles spewed from the scar on his side. Angst crawled to his lab but stopped when he heard a booming grunt. Ivan pulled and tugged at Chryslaenor, rocking it until he was able to remove the blade from his hand. The sword seemed incredibly heavy, but Ivan held it up high like it was his own. Ivan looked at Angst, smiled smugly, and swung down.

  The blow sounded like a melon being sliced in half, and was loud enough to make everyone stop fighting. Rose was the first to scream as Chryslaenor lodged in Angst’s face. It had cut through the helm, and Ivan had left it there. Angst fell back to the ground. His right leg bent awkwardly and his arms twitched and jerked.

  Hector roared in rage as he tried to pull away from the battle, but the horde of Fulk’han surged through their defenses. Aerella’s shield was gone, and Tarness
had stopped fighting, gawking in shock at Angst’s body.

  “Don’t kill them yet. I want them to suffer like I did,” Ivan ordered. He placed one giant cloven foot on Angst and yanked Chryslaenor from his face. Angst continued to shake and seize. “Bring them all to the dungeon, including him,” he commanded, nudging Angst with his foot. “Make sure they can all watch the hero die.”

  41

  “Rook, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going back to my room!” Heather warned, holding her burgundy dress out of the way as she jogged after the soldier.

  Rook stopped at the intersection of two hallways and looked around to ensure they were alone. “Tyrell asked me to release the mages and said you could help. I don’t understand why I’m supposed to let them go or what you can do, Heather.”

  “Won’t we get in trouble for setting them free?” Heather whispered.

  “Yes, probably. Tyrell didn’t explain, but I trust him,” Rook assured her.

  Heather considered this. Angst had spoken highly of Tyrell and of Rook, and she finally agreed that Tyrell wouldn’t put her at risk without good reason. “Let’s go.”

  Rook nodded his appreciation and led the rest of the way to the dungeon entrance. They followed the long flight of stairs down into the bowels of the castle. Before the large iron door, four guards stood at attention as they entered the room.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Rook?” a meaty looking guard said with a growl.

  “Step aside,” Rook commanded. “I outrank you, soldier. I don’t need your permission to enter.”

  “Aereon delivered the queen’s order this morning. Nobody’s allowed in without his consent.”

  “Let me see that order,” Rook demanded, his voice getting louder.

  “Actually, sir, we’re supposed to deliver anyone that comes down here without approval directly to Aereon,” the guard said threateningly. Two of the others started moving behind Heather. “You’ll both need to come with us.”

  Rook reached for his short sword, but Heather placed her hand on his before it cleared the sheath. She looked at the man who was threatening them and smiled. He blinked several times and then smiled back. Heather continued to smile, and the guards stopped moving. Everyone stood very still as she walked around the room. The men, including Rook, seemed entranced, watching her every move.

  “I think everyone should go stand against the wall over there and wait for a while,” she said, pointing at the nearby wall. Rook and the guards happily made their way over. Heather held Rook’s hand. “Not you, dear. You get the key and unlock the door.”

  Rook appeared to think that was a great idea and proceeded to open the iron door leading to the dungeon cells.

  “You should all wait there until we get back,” Heather gently advised the guards standing against the wall. Everyone nodded their heads in complete acceptance of the notion.

  After making their way through the iron door, Rook shook his head as if waking up from a surprise nap. “What...what just happened?”

  “Angst says I have an infectious personality,” Heather answered, smiling fondly as she thought of Angst. She sighed. “Anyone nearby gets caught up in my state of mind at the moment. If I need help, they help. If I’m upset, they become upset.”

  “You could have anything you want!” Rook said in shock as they made their way down the long dungeon hallway.

  “How do you think I got Angst to marry me?” Heather replied coyly.

  Rook stopped in his tracks. “Are you serious?”

  Heather laughed out loud. “No.”

  Rook started laughing too and then covered his mouth.

  “Sorry, I can’t control it when I’m laughing,” she apologized. “And what I do doesn’t last long after I move away. It’s a proximity thing.”

  “Wait. Exactly how long?” Rook asked, looking back at the iron door. Two of the soldiers had already entered their hallway. He grabbed Heather’s arm. “Run!”

  They ran to the large cell holding the magic wielders, hastily unfastened the lock, and heaved the heavy door open before the guards arrived. When the two soldiers pushed into the room, they found a dozen angry men and women standing in front of Rook and Heather, their hands or eyes glowing ominously. The soldiers backed out of the cell slowly, as if it were a room filled with vipers, all expression and color dropped from their faces.

  “We’ll be back with more!” one yelled after closing the door.

  “What’s going on, Heather? And why are you with this guy?” Graloon said, looking at Rook with disgust.

  “He’s on our side, Graloon,” Heather said, placing a hand on Rook’s arm. “We’re here to set you free.”

  “You’re doing a great job so far,” Graloon replied, rolling his eyes. The old barkeep had an ugly purple bruise along the side of his face.

  “He has a good point,” Heather agreed, turning to Rook. “Now that I’ve gotten you in, what’s your plan on getting us out?”

  Rook scratched at stubble on his chin. “I’m, well, uh, I’m working on that part.”

  “Wait, you don’t have a plan to escape?” Heather asked in exasperation.

  “I thought the thing you do would help with that,” Rook said, waving his hand around to indicate magic in general. “Tyrell wasn’t very clear about it.”

  “It won’t work if they bring a lot more. There are limitations,” Heather said with a sigh.

  “There has to be someone in here that can help us leave without fighting our way out.” Rook looked around at the surly people gathered in the large cave-like room.

  The ground shuddered as the floor in the center of the room loosened like sand. Everyone stepped back as two men appeared—an older bearded man with well-worn linen clothes and a young man with light brown hair wearing a homespun shirt—the two wielders Aereon had found ‘fighting’ in this same cell.

  “You two! Where have you been?” Rook asked in surprise.

  They both peered at Rook with distrust. The older man spoke. “There’s no time to explain right now. Graloon, will your bar have any problems accommodating us if we all appear at once?”

  “No problem at all. Welcome back, Andec,” Graloon said to the older man with a gratified smile. “You too, Jace.”

  Andec nodded then yelled, “Everyone brace yourself.”

  “For what?” Rook asked Heather, panic around his eyes.

  Before she could answer, a dark circle appeared in the floor beneath them, and they fell. It was like missing a stair, the drop was just enough to make Rook’s heart skip a beat. Within a blink, they were in Graloon’s bar, unharmed.

  “Do you want to explain why you were sent to release us?” Graloon asked Rook.

  Rook looked around in amazement, still shocked by the sudden relocation. “Tyrell sent me, but didn’t have time to explain why.”

  “It’s because Unsel is under attack!” Jace announced.

  “What?” Rook exclaimed in disbelief. He ran to the door and opened it then cautiously stuck his head outside. Looking up and down the cobblestone road, he found it completely empty. As he turned around to tell everyone, something slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground.

  Rook rolled over to find one of the large steel-beaked birds preparing to attack. He scrambled to stand and pointed his sword at it. The bird flew at his face. Rook ducked and stabbed at the beast’s chest. Striking the bird was like hitting a metal shield hanging on a stone wall. His sword bounced off.

  “Only magic can kill these things!” he yelled, remembering what Tyrell had told him.

  Before the bird could attack again, a bolt of fire shot by Rook’s right ear. The creature squawked loudly as it burst into flame and cooked to cinder. Rook peered over his shoulder to find an attractive middle-aged woman standing behind him, her arm extended and her hand glowing scant inches from his cheek.

  “Thanks!” he said with genuine appreciation, yet still eyeing the glowing hand warily.

  “You’re welcome,” she sai
d, smiling at him. She pulled her hand away from the side of his cheek and placed it behind her back as though to hide an obscene disfiguration.

  “Can anyone else do that?” Rook asked excitedly. “If Unsel is being attacked by those things—”

  “You mean to tell me we’re supposed to defend the very kingdom that put us all in prison?” someone yelled from the crowd. Many others nodded, echoing the sentiment.

  “In the queen’s defense, she has been compromised,” Rook pleaded.

  “I’ll vouch for that,” Heather said supportively. “I don’t believe it was her decision to throw everyone in prison.”

  “And the same person influencing the queen’s decisions is the one who’s brought about this attack,” Rook explained to the magic wielders.

  “I’ll fight,” declared the woman who’d killed the bird, still smiling at Rook.

  A handful of others stepped forward, though some with obvious reluctance.

  “There’s no time to wait,” Rook said, taking the lead.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” asked Heather, grabbing his shoulder to hold him back. “You can’t fight those things.”

  “I need to get back to the castle. Tyrell and the princess have to know what’s going on out here.”

  “I can send you back.” Andec stepped forward.

  Before Rook could object, a dark circle appeared at his feet. Heather stepped into the circle to join Rook, and they vanished together.

  42

  Dungeons are the same everywhere. Cave-like hovels where the cold and the stench seep into their captives’ pores while sucking the life and hope out of them. The dungeon cells in Fulk’han were similar to the ones in Unsel, except they had chains with shackles. Those shackles now held Rose, Tarness, Dallow, and Hector against the walls of a cell, their wrists bound high just enough overhead to make sitting awkward and standing uncomfortable. They’d passed the point of tears and anger, leaving them frustrated and filled with regret. Hanging along the back wall of the cell was Angst.