Return of the Damned dad-9

by T. H. Lain

  "Where's Krunk?" he yelled, turning his back on Regdar and menacing the approaching soldiers.

  "I thought he was with you," replied Regdar. He scanned the battlefield. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the dwarf. Krunk was lifting himself onto the raft, directly beside the wizards. "There!" Regdar shouted, pointing. "Krunk made it to the raft."

  As if they'd heard Regdar's words, both wizards turned to face the dwarf with their spells.

  "Damn." Regdar hopped forward, trying to keep weight off his injured leg while preparing to cut a path through the enemy soldiers between him and the raft.

  Whitman and Tasca rushed ahead of him toward the advancing line of enemy troops. Clemf stepped beside Regdar, and the four men moved as one. Before they had advanced two steps, however, the enemy soldiers surrounded them.

  "This is all your fault, elf," Whitman declared as he stood back to back with Tasca.

  "If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead now, you brash, tumbling fool," responded Tasca. "Now shut up and hit something with that hammer for once."

  The circle of swords surrounding Regdar and the others grew deeper and tighter. The tip of a blade flashed out and caught Regdar across the forearm. He pulled back, swearing at his slow reaction and his bleeding arm. The attacker regretted his bold action a moment later when Clemf's sword sliced through his knee.

  With the sounds of battle ringing all around, Regdar studied the slowly enclosing noose surrounding them. Krunk was still on the raft, his mace raised high in the air. He didn't move, and the wizards had again turned their backs on him. Regdar realized the dwarf was frozen in time.

  A dull blow to Regdar's chest brought his attention back to his immediate danger. He'd been saved from what might have been a very serious slash by Tasca's parry, which turned the attacker's blade sideways.

  "Well boys," Regdar yelled, "it's been an honor and a privilege." His greatsword jabbed through the eye slit in a black helmet and punched through brain, skull, and steel at the back of the helmet. The blade bit tightly into the metal and refused to break loose when Regdar yanked it back, so he pulled the weapon sideways and hammered the protruding tip through a second man's breastplate. The weight of two dead men bore the weapon toward the ground.

  From somewhere a mace crashed down on Regdar's blade and tore the grip from his hands. Bodies pressed forward, waving weapons toward the fighter. Before he could be overwhelmed, strong hands pulled him backward, and he tumbled to the soft ground.

  Again, he was grabbed in friendly hands and dragged away from the fight.

  "Lying down on the job, I see," said a familiar voice.

  Regdar wiped muck from his eyes and looked up into the face of Captain Gohem Masters. He chuckled and lay back on the mud as, at last, the duke's elite guard rounded the corner and charged into the remaining invaders. Within moments, they overran the black-clad attackers and captured the raft.

  3

  Regdar looked up at the ceihng from his cot. He rolled onto his stomach trying to get comfortable but he couldn't-too many wounds. Even after the army's clerics partially cured him, his leg ached, and he still had a painful burn on his face. There weren't enough healing spells to completely cure everyone in one evening.

  So the big fighter suffered. He hadn't slept most of the night, despite his exhaustion. Chances were he'd have another sleepless night before the bureaucracy got back around to spreading more healing warmth his way. He rolled onto his back again.

  Yep, still hurts, he thought. "Ugh," he moaned, more out of frustration than real pain. "May Pelor see fit to send me a cleric." He rolled to his side. "Any time now," he added.

  The sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor of the barrack made Regdar sit up.

  He glanced toward the sky. "That was fast."

  Light from the early morning sun eased through the door to the chamber, followed by the hulking figure of Duke Christo Ramas. Regdar struggled to rise from bed.

  "No, no," said the duke, crossing the room, Captain Masters beside him. "Please rest. There's no need to get up."

  Regdar smiled. "Thank you, sir." He relaxed again on his cot. Somehow, it felt more comfortable now.

  "It is I who should be thanking you, Captain Regdar." The duke stopped beside his cot. "I'm told that your heroic efforts allowed my guardsmen to get most of the party guests to safety." He reached down and patted Regdar's shoulder. "For that, I am eternally grateful." The duke slid his hands inside his cape and rocked back on his heels. "For your bravery and service to New Koratia, I should be presenting you the Koratian Medal of Honor." He glared down at Regdar. "But instead I'm mad as hell."

  Regdar blinked.

  "Did you hear nothing I said to you last night?" demanded the duke. "Were my words not sharp enough to pierce that thick skull of yours?"

  "I… I…" stammered Regdar.

  "Yes, yes, your actions were brave, blah, blah, blah." The duke pulled his hands from beneath his cape, waving them around in the air. "But you damn near wound up dead." He glanced to the gnome by his side. "I'm informed that if it hadn't been for Captain Masters here and the rest of my elite guard, you'd be resting in a pine box-which I'll tell you is a lot less comfortable than that cot."

  Regdar adjusted himself again, looking away from the duke. "I'm not so sure about that."

  The duke's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, Regdar? Are you reaEy all that wound up over this woman, Naull?"

  Regdar jerked his head up in surprise.

  The duke smiled. "This old man hears more than you might think," he said, pointing to his own chest with his thumb. Then he knelt down next to Regdar's cot and lowered his voice, talking close to the big fighter's face. "I know what it's like to lose someone close." He nodded and looked around the room. "Every good soldier has lost someone." He took a long, deep breath. "Or worse, been lost by someone."

  Regdar nodded, looking away again.

  "But we go on," continued the duke. He stood up and raised his voice. "And I expect you to do the same, Captain Regdar." The duke turned and walked toward the door.

  Regdar lay back on his cot and looked to the ceiling.

  As he crossed the threshold, the duke turned around. "Those soldiers who attacked us, whoever they were," the duke sighed, "I have a feeling we're going to see more of them." He paused. "You were very brave last night, and you should be commended. From today forward, however, you begin acting like an officer. Is that understood?"

  Regdar nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "Good," replied the duke. Then as he turned to leave he added, "There is an old friend of yours here, someone who I hope will talk some sense into you."

  Regdar struggled again to sit up.

  The duke smiled. "I'll send him in." He disappeared from sight, followed by Captain Masters.

  A moment later, another large frame filled the doorway, backlit by the rising sun.

  "I'm told the hero Regdar could use a cleric," said the man.

  "Amen," said the big fighter, lying back once again.

  The man crossed the room and looked down on the cot with a big smile on his face, his helm under his arm, and the symbol of Pelor inscribed on his chestplate.

  "Jozan!" exclaimed Regdar, jumping slightly. "It's good to see you. I was starting to wonder if I would ever set eyes on you again." Regdar shrugged as he looked down at his bandaged body. "Forgive me if I don't get up and give you a proper greeting."

  Jozan chuckled. "Good to see you, too." He knelt down and placed his helm on the floor next to him. "If you think you're getting out of that greeting, think again." Placing one palm on Regdar's forehead and the other on his knee, the cleric prayed softly. "Lord father, grant me the power to release your humble servant from the agony of his wounds. Bind him in your everlasting light and…" Jozan's voice trailed off into a low mumble that Regdar couldn't understand.

  Then the cleric's hands glowed softly. The light grew, then receded, and Regdar blinked. Little round dots of pale orange floated in hi
s vision, and he wiped his hand across his face. His skin was no longer puckered or scarred, and his leg no longer ached.

  "Thank Pelor," he said as he stood at last to embrace his friend.

  Jozan rose and returned the welcome.

  Breaking away, Regdar hopped a bit on his injured leg, squatting to test it. Satisfied, he headed for the door and motioned Jozan to follow.

  "Hungry?" he asked. "The least I can do is buy you a good breakfast while we catch up."

  Jozan stayed put. "I'm afraid I don't have time. I'm on urgent business." The cleric took a deep breath. "I'm only passing through briefly."

  Regdar stopped and turned around. "Oh." He scratched his head, then stepped back toward the cleric. "Do you need my help?"

  Jozan smiled. "Not this time, but thanks for the offer."

  Regdar shrugged. "If you didn't come to catch up and you don't need my help, then what did you come to New Koratia for?"

  Jozan looked to the ground. "I came-" He hesitated. "I came to tell you about a rumor I heard."

  Regdar laughed. "You came all this way to spread gossip?" He stepped up and put his hand on the cleric's forehead. "Maybe it's you who needs healing magic."

  Jozan grimaced. "No." He took a deep breath. "I came because I heard word of Naull."

  Regdar's eyes narrowed, and he glared at his friend. "Did the duke put you up to this?"

  Jozan shook his head. "No, Regdar, he didn't, and I would suspect, judging from what I heard of your conversation, that he wouldn't be happy to know what I'm about to tell you."

  Regdar shrugged that away. "What is it then?"

  "I've heard that Naull may be alive."

  Regdar waved his hands in the air unsteadily. "I saw her disappear into the Elemental Plane of Fire with my own eyes." He turned around and stepped away from the cleric. "She's dead, Jozan. Dead, and I couldn't stop it from happening." Regdar spun on his friend. "Your spreading rumors isn't going to bring her back or-" he gritted his teeth-"make me feel any better about losing her!" He shouted the last word through grinding teeth.

  Jozan nodded. "I know, I know, but I'm your friend, Regdar. I wouldn't come to you with news like this unless I were absolutely certain it's reliable."

  Regdar blinked. "How do you know this?"

  "Two weeks ago, I encountered a group of missionaries who came to the temple for the night. They told me about a slave caravan they encountered-"

  "Slave caravan?" Regdar scoffed. "How would missionaries even know a slave from a slave trader? Besides, what are the odds that they'd know Naull?"

  Jozan sighed. "That's precisely why I'm here, Regdar." He looked the big fighter in the eye. "One of the men claimed he used to sell apples to an old wizard named Larktiss Dathiendt."

  "Naull's mentor?"

  "Yes." The cleric nodded. "The same wizard Naull told us stories about when we first met her."

  "And this man, this missionary, he'd met Naull before?"

  "Referred to her by name, Regdar."

  The big fighter scratched his chin. "He has to be mistaken."

  "I consulted with Pelor." Jozan pressed his lips together. "Our savior, the god of the sun, gave me a vision-a very strong indication that this rumor is true," persuaded the cleric.

  Regdar blinked again. "And you're sure about all this?"

  Jozan nodded. "As sure as I am in the power of Pelor that healed your wounds."

  Regdar put his forehead in his hand. "You mean she's been alive all this time…" His words slowly trailed off. "If she's alive I should have been looking for her. What must she be enduring right now?" He shook his head and rubbed his temples. "No, no. I saw the City of Fire…I saw it disappear…This just can't be true." He looked up.

  Jozan nodded.

  Regdar leaped to his feet. "It doesn't matter. Dead or alive, I've waited too long to find out for myself." He clasped Jozan on the arm. "It will be good to have your company again, my friend."

  Jozan grimaced and shook his head. "I can't accompany you, Regdar. As I said, I'm on a quest of my own."

  "But I'll need help!"

  Jozan cut him off with a stern look. "I'm straining my leave from the church as it is, coming here to tell you what I know."

  Regdar took a deep breath and looked around the room. It was empty. He turned his attention back to the cleric.

  "I understand."

  Jozan reached into his pouch and pulled out a rolled parchment. "This is a map of the Marsh of Haelor, at the base of Mt. Fear."

  "To the east?"

  "Precisely." Jozan handed the parchment to Regdar. "You will find a mark in the woodlands at the base of the mountain. That is where I believe the caravan was headed."

  Regdar took the map and shook his head solemnly. "Thank you, my friend." He clasped Jozan's arm.

  The cleric nodded. "I do not know who holds her, Regdar. Be careful, and may Pelor's light guide you when the road becomes dark."

  4

  Duke Christo Ramas sat behind his large, cherrywood desk, reading statements from the royal treasury. Two hundred years ago, this very desk belonged to Duke Mikale Ochs, a bloodthirsty tyrant who ruled his duchy with an iron fist. Eventually, his military officers staged a coup, and the duke was stoned to death in the main square of Old Koratia by angry peasants.

  Duke Ramas hoped the same fate didn't await him. He dipped his quill in ink and signed a document giving the soldiers a small pay raise.

  A knock came at the door to his study.

  The duke blew on the fresh ink and put his quill back in its pot. "Enter."

  A pasty, hunched-over man in ornate, magenta robes with golden pinstriping came through the door. He bowed.

  "Captain Regdar is here to see you."

  The duke looked up from his desk. "Regdar, eh. Send him in."

  "Very good, my lord." The hunched man bowed again and exited.

  A moment later, the door swung open wider, and Regdar stepped across the threshold. He dropped to one knee.

  "Rise, Captain," said the duke, standing behind his desk. "Come in."

  Regdar stood up, closed the heavy wooden door behind him, and stepped farther into the room.

  "I suspect your conversation with the good cleric went well."

  "Yes, sir, it did."

  The duke smiled. "And I also suspect you've come to tell me he talked some sense into that fool head of yours." He chuckled.

  "Not exactly, sir," replied the big fighter.

  The duke stopped laughing.

  Regdar puffed himself up to his full height and stood at perfect attention. "I've come to resign my commission, sir."

  Duke Ramas strode around his desk and leaned back against its front edge. "Now, son, I realize I was a little hard on you today, but-"

  "No, sir," interrupted Regdar. "I believe you were entirely fair and honest with me."

  The duke shook his head, confused. "Then what is this all about?"

  Regdar glanced down, looking uncomfortable. "It's about Naull, sir. I believe she's still alive."

  Duke Ramas pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you wish to resign your commission so you can go find her, is that it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  The duke pounded his fist on the desk. "And what am I supposed to do when these black-armored soldiers come marching on New Koratia again? I need you here, Regdar, now more than ever."

  Regdar nodded.

  The duke was frustrated. "These things I've been saying to you, these talks we've been having aren't just about you being more careful, they're about you learning how to take larger responsibility."

  "Yes, sir, I know," replied Regdar. "Now I have a responsibility to myself to find out if the woman I love is still alive." He stepped closer to the duke. "This is something I have to do. You have plenty of capable soldiers who can defend New Koratia while I'm gone, and when I return-"

  "Your duty is to this duchy, Captain Regdar," interrupted the duke, standing up to his full height and stepping up to look the big fighter in the eye. "If yo
u leave now, don't ever show your face in my territory again, or you will be hanged from a gallows for abandoning your post. Do I make myself clear?"

  Regdar gritted his teeth. "Perfectly." He unhitched his shield from his back. He looked at the red dragon crest-the field arms of the New Koratian military-on its front, then let it fall to the ground.

  The duke flinched as it crashed to the hard wood floor.

  Regdar saluted, turned on his heels, and exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  The duke rubbed his eyes with his calloused palm. He sighed.

  "May Pelor light your way, young man. May Pelor light your way."

  In the dying evening hght, Regdar paced outside the barrack door. What would he tell the men? If Naull was being held by slavers, then one fighter, no matter how strong, wasn't going to be able to rescue her. He needed their help but he was no longer their captain. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and marched toward the open door.

  Regdar crossed through the first chamber and into the bunk room. Whitman, Tasca, Clemf, and Krunk all looked up from their cots. He looked back.

  "Well?" prompted Whitman after a pregnant pause.

  Regdar paced the room, thinking about what he was going to say. He stopped and faced the four men, forcing a smile.

  "The duke has given us his blessing," he said, nodding.

  "Even after what happened last night?" asked Tasca.

  Regdar stood to his full height. "The duke has confidence that the New Koratian military and his elite guards can handle the situation, with or without our help."

  Tasca shrugged. "Okay then, what are we waiting for? Let's go find your woman."

  The men began hefting their already-packed backpacks.

  Regdar coughed into his fist.

  The men stopped.

  "I must remind you that this mission, like many in the past, is undertaken on a volunteer-only basis." He looked each of them in the eye. "You are under no obligation to go."