The Return of Cathos (Tales of the Silver Sword Inn, Complete Collection One)

by Wilson Harp

  The diviner lifted her hand and Horas saw one of those thin daggers that Donal had warned them about. He had said that the slightest cut from one of those blades would kill within seconds. Horas saw Calaran throw a blade that buried itself deep in the diviner’s back. But the diviner whipped her hand forward and threw her dagger.

  Horas realized that the target would be Mirari. If the diviner killed Mirari, then Alinor would disappear. If Alinor was gone…

  Horas pushed himself to his feet in a leap and threw his shield out to try to block the blade. The blade slipped just above his shield. Horas crashed into the ground as his wounded leg gave way. His right arm was twisted under his body as he hit the stone floor with his full weight. His axe skittered away from where he landed. He turned to see where the blade had gone; he was terrified that it had found Mirari.

  When he looked, his eyes met Medrick’s. The young apprentice stood in front of Mirari and Orias. The hilt of the dagger stood out from his chest.

  For just a moment Horas saw panic in Medrick’s eyes, and then they glazed over. The young man collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  Orias rushed to his fallen apprentice. His face appeared calm, but his hands shook as he lifted Medrick’s face.

  Horas turned away and tried to stand. His leg hurt, but he was able to pull himself up.

  He looked around the room and only he, Mirari, and Donal were standing. The elves had slumped onto the floor and were clearly exhausted.

  Orias gave a primal scream and stood from Medrick’s body. Fire and lightning streaked at Delacour as he stood between the cauldron and the portal, his voice still chanting. But the magic melted away from the evil man.

  Cathos laughed from behind the thin veil that kept him from the living world. Horas knew that the only chance was to stop Delacour, so he pushed himself forward step by step. He saw his axe on the ground and realized that he had no weapon in his hand. He reached down for his axe and fell.

  He lifted his eyes and watched as a thin rift in the portal started to slowly expand. Cathos was being freed. An arrow from Donal bounced harmlessly off of some magic shield that Delacour had. Magic from Orias kept melting away from both Delacour and the cauldron.

  The presence of Alinor seemed to be keeping the rift in the prison from splitting open, but it didn’t seem enough to stop it entirely.

  Delacour lifted a knife in his hand and smiled as he cut into his arm. Horas knew that when his blood was added to the cauldron, Cathos would be free. He tried to rise again, but was too weary and hurt.

  A dwarven battle cry shook the room. Even Cathos seemed stunned at the noise. Baldric had worked his way onto the dais and came charging toward Delacour. The evil cult leader whipped his head to the noise and saw Baldric in a full run. Delacour tried to get a drop of blood into the cauldron as the dwarven warrior leaped into the air.

  With a mighty yell, Baldric landed just in front of Delacour and swung his warhammer backhanded. The head of the weapon connected with Delacour’s face. So powerful was the swing that it lifted the evil cult leader into the air and drove him back into the portal. He slid behind the blood red veil and tumbled into Cathos.

  Cathos looked stunned and tossed Delacour aside. The necromancer saw the rift in his prison had torn open and stepped forward.

  Baldric kicked the cauldron, and the large iron container spilled over the side of the dais. With a terrible screech, the image of Cathos disappeared as the portal collapsed.

  Horas felt drained. He unstrapped the shield from his arm and let it slip to the floor. He looked back at his leg and saw the scorched flesh behind the ashes of his leather leggings. He sat up and looked around him.

  Baldric was sitting on the dais. He had pulled off his helmet and was tending to a nasty gash on his forehead.

  Donal was holding Lendin up as they moved toward the middle of the room. Lendin looked like he was swaying as he walked, but Horas thought his friend would be all right in time.

  Mirari was kneeling next to Medrick’s body. Orias was casting some sort of spell. The knife that had struck Medrick was lying on the ground. Horas wished that he had been just a little quicker or had another inch or two of reach. But he had done the best he could.

  He heard Martel moving behind him against the wall. He turned to see the big warrior stripping off his battered shield. Martel laid Ermine down and started loosening her armor.

  “She alive?” Donal asked as he went over to Martel.

  “Yes, but barely,” Martel answered.

  The men set about making her comfortable and tending to her wounds.

  Horas crawled over to his axe and then leveraged himself up. Baldric helped pull him steadily to his feet.

  “Careful, boy,” the dwarf said. “If you fall over again, I’m so tired I might just let you lie there.”

  Horas leaned on the dwarf and started moving to where Lendin was standing.

  “Let’s get home,” Horas said to his friend.

  The sound of footsteps running down the corridor caused Horas to freeze. The axe in his hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and he was afraid he would fall over if Baldric rushed away from him.

  Donal had his sword in his hand. He stood protectively in front of Martel and Ermine.

  Orias lowered Medrick and stood. Mirari was next to him with a knife in each hand.

  Several tall figures outlined with torch light ran around the corner. They slowed as they drew near.

  “Kragdin,” Donal muttered. “Thank the Divine. I feared some of the cultists had survived.”

  The tall Padashite warrior walked into the light of the chamber. Next to him was Bartimus the guardsman. Behind them came a line of men.

  “It seems that you were successful,” Kragdin said as he surveyed the carnage that filled the room.

  “It’s finished?” Bartimus asked.

  Orias nodded. “It is finished. At least for now. Cathos was unable to escape from his prison, but he still lives. I believe it will be some time before he finds another to try and free him.”

  Calaran limped over to Orias. The young elf walked behind him. Wary of the newcomers, he cradled the bronze scepter with one arm while his free hand touched the hilt of one of his knives.

  “Horas!” cried Val and Berni together. They saw their friend and rushed over. They caught sight of Lendin in the next seconds. Baldric gave over support of Horas to Val, and Berni put her arm around Lendin to help support him.

  “I’m so glad you are alive,” said Val. “Karl was able to bring his healing supplies with him. All of the others who can heal in Black Oak are needed to help those who survived the attack.”

  “I think Ermine will need his help first,” Horas said.

  “Oh no! Medrick,” Berni gasped.

  Val turned with Horas until he saw the young wizard’s apprentice lying still on the ground.

  “He saved us all,” Lendin said. “He stopped a dagger meant for Mirari when she was the focus of closing the gateway.”

  Horas cringed inside, as he would always blame himself for not being a little faster.

  “Val. Berni,” Bartimus said. “You two help Horas and Lendin.”

  Horas saw that about a dozen barbarians from Kragdin’s Mondroth tribe had entered the room along with a half dozen men from Black Oak. Karl was giving Ermine a healing potion of some kind, but a litter was being prepared to carry her out. Baldric supported Martel as they moved toward the exit of the chamber.

  Orias directed several men as he prepared Medrick’s body to be moved.

  “Are you able to move?” Val asked Horas. “Or do you need to rest a few minutes?”

  Horas realized he was in shock. The thrill and excitement of the battle had left him. His fear and terror remained, though, and the pain in his leg worsened by the minute.

  “I’ll be fine, Val,” he said. “I just don’t know what to think of all of this. Medrick’s dead. Ermine, Martel and Calaran are barely able to move. I saw Lendin take a wound
that might have killed him. It was just too much.”

  “I know,” Val said. “Too many friends of mine, men I know, are dead or seriously injured back in town.”

  “I wish none of this had happened,” Lendin said. “I just want to go back home and hunt and fish in the woods again.”

  Donal came over to the small group of friends. He examined the bloody bandages on Lendin’s arm. “I think you will have that life back, nephew,” he said. “Just remember the price that was paid for that peaceful existence.”

  He looked at Val and Berni. “You two will never forget the cost to defend the town. I’m sure you will be happy together. Your children will learn that both of their parents were there to defend Black Oak in its darkest hour.”

  Donal walked away as all four of the friends stared after him.

  “How did he know?” Berni asked Val. “I never said anything.”

  “Know what?” Horas asked. It sounded like Val and Berni were planning on getting married, but he knew that couldn’t possibly be the case.

  “I asked Berni to marry me when we were headed here through the swamp,” Val said. “We didn’t know what we would find here, and I figured if we both made it back alive, we should get married.”

  Horas’s mouth dropped open as he looked at Berni.

  “I agreed,” the young woman said. “We are going to be wed as soon as I can arrange it with Brother Hemal.”

  Horas shook his head in disbelief.

  “I’m going to ask Cassie as soon as I get back,” Lendin said. “I figure if I can face what I just faced, then I should have no problem asking a girl who loves me to marry me.”

  Berni kissed Lendin on the cheek as Val reached out to shake his hand.

  Horas smiled at his friend. He had a hard time seeing Lendin and Cassie married, but the image of the two of them standing in front of their friends taking those vows made him smile.

  “She is a traditional girl, you know,” Berni said. “She will want to wait until next spring.”

  Lendin smiled. “I figured as much, but I think I need some time to recover from today anyway.”

  Calaran cleared his throat as he approached. “Smiling young people standing in the fresh carnage of a field of battle. I can only assume that weddings are being planned.”

  “How did you know that?” Horas asked.

  “If there is anything that spurs the thoughts of happiness and forever, it is surviving a great catastrophe. And don’t let the thought fade; we all survived a great catastrophe.”

  The elven bard turned to Horas. “You are ready to be a real adventurer. I see it in you. So do Martel and Baldric. When they get Ermine healed to the point that she can swing her sword again, they are likely to ask you to join them. Are you willing?”

  Horas nodded. “It would be amazing to fight alongside them. Do you really think they will want me to be part of their group?”

  “I do. And I can help you practice, once your leg is healed a bit,” Calaran said.

  “I would be honored to learn anything you could teach me,” Horas said.

  “Let’s get moving,” Calaran told the group of friends. “It will be almost dusk by the time we get out of the ruins, and nearly dark when we leave the swamp.”

  “I can’t wait until I see my own bed again,” Val said. “I’m so tired I could lie down and sleep on these stones.”

  Calaran pointed to the middle of the room. The odd elf stood in the center of the dais. He held the scepter close to him and seemed to be speaking to someone.

  “The new king of Kol Edroth would make sure you slept safe,” he said. “But we have one place to go before we return you to your bed.”

  “Where are we going?” Berni asked.

  “The tradition of adventurers is to tell their tales among their fellows. That’s where exploits can be told, questions can be answered, the fallen can be toasted, and the survivors can relax. There is no home for an adventurer better than the common room of an inn. Let’s go.”

  The elven bard limped toward the exit of the chamber. The four friends followed along afterward.

  Horas thought about what it would be like when they finally saw Croft standing behind the bar and Cassie bringing platters of food out into what would likely be a very crowded common room. Horas smiled at the thought of going home. And home for him would always be the Silver Sword Inn.

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  A Note from Wilson Harp

  I truly hope you enjoyed ‘The Return of Cathos’. If you did, please take a few minutes and tell others what you enjoyed about the story. Your review could be what convinces another person to try this book. Thank you.

  Also by Wilson Harp:

  The Ghost of Sherwood

  King Richard is dead.

  With King John on the throne, the Sheriff of Nottingham knows he will soon be replaced by one of the new king's favorite men. The only way he can survive the constant vagaries of political whim is to become wealthy in his own right. And the easiest way to do this is to see the king's taxes fall into his own pocket. When the thefts are reported, he will simply claim that a band of bandits has taken up residence in Sherwood Forest and has stolen the money. A good idea and it works. That is until King John decides the sheriff needs some help in hunting down the bandits.

  Sir Guy is dispatched to Nottingham with a unit of French soldiers under his command. A ruthless man, Sir Guy will not stop until the taxes are returned and the thieves hanged. The sheriff is in trouble. There are no bandits in the wood and the king's coin sits snugly in the lockbox in the sheriff's office. A single word spoken by the wrong person will put his head in a noose.

  But then news of Sir Robert of Locksley reaches Nottingham. Sir Robert had left for crusade many years before and he and Sir Guy hated each other. When rumors said that Sir Robert was returning to Nottingham, the sheriff devised a new scheme. He would spread word that Sir Robert was the leader of the bandits and that his loyalty to King Richard did not extend to King John. This plan would keep Sir Guy searching the woods for men who don't exist.