Tales from the New Earth: Volume One

by Thompson, J. J.

  “They shy away from light, Simon,” Virginia said. “So we keep a bunch of torches burning in front of both gates each night. We learned about that after their first attack.”

  She swallowed hard and looked away, rubbing her eyes.

  “What happened during that first attack?” Simon asked gently. It was obviously an emotional subject for the young woman.

  “The first night,” Richard said, answering the question, “we were caught completely off-guard. How could we not be? Who in the hell thought we'd be attacked by the undead, of all things?”

  He sounded both furious and defensive and Clara looked at him compassionately.

  “Richard, you're being too hard on yourself. It's not your fault that they died.”

  “Isn't it?” he asked bitterly. “I am the captain of the guard, Clara. I am responsible for the security of this town and I failed in that duty. Kind words won't bring back our people.”

  “What happened?” Simon asked again, feeling a sense of horror rising within himself.

  Richard turned away and Clara gave Simon a sad look.

  “They came over the front and back gates simultaneously. We, at the time, only maintained a guard at the front gate. There are always torches lit there and when the monsters dropped inside, they seemed stunned and shrank away from the light. That gave the guard there a chance to raise the alarm.”

  She walked back to the bench and sat down next to Simon again.

  “You may not have noticed, my friend, but we installed a bell in a housing next to the front gate. Just as a precaution, you understand. Well, thank the gods we did.” She looked at Richard who had turned back to listen. “My big friend's idea, by the way.”

  The armored man just shrugged and Clara shook her head at him sadly.

  “The guard rang the bell and roused the town. We rushed to the gate and Richard and his people fought the undead. I learned that night that the few spells that I've been gifted with by the gods are useful for something after all.”

  “Spells?” Simon sat up attentively. “What spells?”

  “Holy Light, for one. The clean white light of Goodness burns these creatures like fire. And fire is the only way to stop them. Even hacking them to pieces doesn't work. The pieces keep moving and crawling like so many insects. Ugh, disgusting.”

  She shuddered and took a deep breath before she continued.

  “And a spell that, according to what I've read in fantasy books, could be called Turn Undead. It caused these walking corpses to flee mindlessly, making them easy targets for anyone armed with a torch.”

  “Fortunately,” Virginia spoke up, “they burn like the desiccated corpses that they are. One thrust of a torch or a fire arrow and they burst into flames.”

  Simon was having a hard time accepting this entire thing but his friends were too obviously upset by the events for it to be some sort of joke.

  “Well, it sounds like you've acquitted yourselves admirably.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Wait a second. You've only mentioned the attack on the front gate. What happened when they came over the back?”

  There was a long silence. Simon watched everyone avoiding each other's eyes and he felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  Finally, Richard cleared his throat loudly and everyone jumped.

  “I'll tell him,” he said to the others. “It's mostly my fault anyway, so I should be the one to do it.”

  “Richard...” Clara begun but he cut her off with a look.

  “I'm telling the truth, Clara. Don't worry, I'm not rolling in self-pity. We've learned some very valuable lessons from that night, but it was a hard way to learn them.”

  He threw back his shoulders and stared at the fire. Simon thought that he suddenly looked and sounded much older than he was.

  “While we were fighting off the undead at the front,” Richard began, “another group, unbeknownst to us, climbed over the rear gate. There were no torches there, no guards. Nothing to stop them. We aren't sure how many there were but I'd guess at least a dozen, maybe more. They swarmed over the first home they came to.”

  He stopped speaking and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Simon looked around and saw that almost everyone was staring at the floor, except for Clara, who was watching Richard closely.

  “It was a slaughter. These creatures are strong, but not supernaturally so. They can be balked by a locked door, but of course none of our houses had locks on them then. They do now,” he added grimly.

  “There were four people living in that little house. Jennifer Bernstein, Andrew Lock, Anthony Haddad and...” A moment's hesitation. “Jacklyn Bernstein. Little Jackie was the first child born since the dragons attacked and destroyed the old world.”

  Simon heard a sob and looked over to see Anna weeping quietly. Gerard had an arm around her shoulders and held her tightly. He looked as miserable as she sounded.

  “My God,” Simon said faintly.

  “I think gods is the proper term here, my friend,” Clara said angrily. “Those dark gods who have torn our world apart and let loose these abominations are to blame for this.”

  She stood up abruptly and walked toward Richard so quickly that he took a step back in surprise. Under different circumstances, Simon would have been amused seeing the big man retreat from a tiny woman like the cleric. But now he found nothing funny in anything.

  Clara poked the breastplate of the armored man and it rang with a subdued metallic sound.

  “Those are the ones you should be blaming, Richard. Not yourself, not your people. Them. They unleashed the evil magic into the world that is doing this. And somehow, we have to stop them.”

  She turned around, stomped back to the bench and sat down again. Then she crossed her arms and glared at Richard, who stood there, speechless.

  “Um, yeah. So anyway,” Richard finally found his voice and continued, “we heard the screaming from the front gate and I left a handful of people to defend it, the undead were almost all destroyed by then, and the rest of us raced back toward the screams. We found, well, you can imagine what we found. All of the undead were inside the house and it took only one look to see that everyone in there was dead.”

  He closed his eyes tightly, obviously trying to block out the memory and failing.

  “They were torn apart. So I slammed the door shut, got some beams to seal it closed and set the house on fire. That's how we destroyed that bunch.”

  “And since then,” Virginia said in a small, tired voice, “we've been attacked every night. Richard is right, though. We have learned. Torches are kept lit outside the gates and on the wall as well. Fire arrows work well at a distance, as long as you can see your target and fire at close range works if they do get over the gates.”

  “It's exhausting though,” Clara added. “I sleep part of the day now so that I can be ready if I'm called on to deal with any undead that get over the front gate. Virginia and her group,” she smiled at the four Changlings, “use their magic to guard the rear gate. Gerard's Force spell rips these creatures apart quite well.”

  Simon glanced at Gerard, who smiled weakly.

  “Yeah, I've never wanted to use that power on the living, but against these monsters, I can help protect our home.”

  Everyone stopped speaking and sat quietly for a time, watching the fire play its game of light and shadow.

  Simon was thinking hard and eventually turned to look at Clara.

  “I have no idea why this is happening now, but you seem to be dealing with the attacks as well as anyone could. So what did you need me for?”

  Clara smoothed out her robe nervously before answering.

  “Our problem isn't the attacks, Simon. At least, not now. We can repel these monsters. But there is no way to know how many undead will rise from that one cemetery. And that is just the closest one. This country is riddled with burial sites. Not just modern ones, but the sites of aboriginal burials as well. And the towns and cities where thousands of people were slaughtered. Yes, I
know that drakes...consumed the dead after the dragon attacks, but I doubt if they got them all. So we thought that we needed a new strategy, another layer of protection if you will.”

  Simon was intrigued.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  Clara looked over at Richard, who made a small gesture of encouragement at her. This time, Simon did grin.

  “Come on, guys, just spit it out. We're all friends here.”

  “Okay then,” the cleric said, taking a deep breath. “We think that we need a moat.”

  Of all the requests that Clara could have made of him, Simon thought, that wasn't one that he was expecting.

  “A moat?”

  Clara nodded once.

  “A moat. You mean like an actual moat, filled with water, all around the town?”

  Richard chuckled.

  “No, not exactly. What we need is a deep trench around the town, yes, but filling it with water, even if we could, would serve no purpose.”

  “We doubt that the undead can drown, Simon,” Clara said with the ghost of a smile. “And in the winter, the water would simply freeze. So that would be a waste of time. Now, as I told you once, our blacksmith has the ability to enchant metals, like Richard's sword.”

  “I remember,” Simon commented.

  “Yes. Well, that sword that our large friend swings around so freely has an unexpected bonus when it cuts through undead flesh.”

  “It does?” Simon looked at Richard. “What is it?”

  “They explode,” the big man said with a sudden grin. “Literally. They burst into flames and continue to burn until they are cinders. Gregory, our smith, swears he didn't know that would happen, but says that he can add the same enchantment to any metal object.”

  “And?”

  “And so we thought that if we had a moat surrounding Nottinghill and planted metal spikes imbued with this enchantment, we could stop the undead, and any that follow them, before they even reach the walls.”

  Clara sat back, smiling happily and waited for Simon to comment.

  The wizard thought about their idea. It sounded slightly mad, but it could work, he supposed. Certainly Kronk, along with a handful of earth elementals, could dig the moat. But there was one snag in their plan, he thought.

  “Yeah, Kronk could do the job, Clara. You know him, always happy to help.”

  Aeris made a gagging sound but Simon ignored him.

  “But the problem I see is, it will take hundreds, perhaps thousands of these metal spikes to line the bottom of the moat. How long would it take your blacksmith to forge them? And do you have enough metal to even start such a project?”

  Simon was waiting for a negative reaction to his questions, afraid that his friends hadn't quite thought this through. Instead, Clara just beamed at him.

  “Those are good points, Simon, but we've already thought of that.”

  She looked at Richard inquiringly.

  “We have indeed,” he said. “We've had some luck on our side. Or the gods help, if you believe the way our dear cleric here does.”

  Clara stuck out her tongue at the big man and he chuckled.

  “Anyway, our trading partners, the dwarves, appeared the day after the first attack. Be it providence or luck, they showed up and we told them what had happened. It was their idea to construct the moat, sir wizard, not ours. And they promised to supply us with enough spikes to do the job. Gregory will still have to enchant them, but he says that he can do that in bunches and that he could have them done in a day. We've been holding off though until we spoke to you.”

  Richard looked at Simon closely.

  “So what do you think?”

  “Think?” Simon looked around at the hopeful faces watching him and grinned broadly. “I think it's a wonderful idea! You have more than enough room around the circumference of the town for a moat and, if it saves lives, my friends and I,” he looked at Aeris who nodded vigorously, “will do whatever it takes to help you.”

  There was a general cheer from the group and Clara leaned over and gave him a quick hug.

  “Thank you so much, my dear friend,” she whispered. “I've been at my wits end trying to save my people.”

  Simon returned the embrace and then released her.

  “You take too much on yourself, Clara,” he told her quietly as the others laughed and talked loudly around them. “Cleric or not, you are only one person.”

  She gave him a teary smile and shrugged helplessly.

  “What else can I do?” she said and then, with a quick squeeze of his hand, she stood up and joined the others talking around the fire.

  Simon sat back and watched them as they sorted themselves out and then began to leave in groups.

  Everyone thanked the wizard as they passed him heading toward the door. Simon nodded and smiled at each of them and soon found himself alone with Clara and Aeris.

  “Come along, Simon, and I'll make you some tea,” the cleric said and waved toward her quarters at the rear of the hall.

  He stood up, grabbed his saddlebags and his staff, and followed her through the room. He winced a bit as he walked; it had been a while he had ridden and his butt was tingling uncomfortably.

  Inside her rooms, Clara got Simon settled on her leather sofa and went into her kitchen to make some tea.

  The wizard dropped his saddlebags next to the door and sat down with Bene-Dunn-Gal lying across his knees. He always kept his Magic Mouth spell in memory now and, using the staff to make it easier, he quickly cast the spell.

  “Kronk, can you hear me?” he said clearly. Aeris was floating above the arm of the sofa to his right and listening closely.

  “Master? Hello! I did not expect to hear from you until tomorrow at least.”

  “Yeah, I know. We've had some news since we arrived here. Let me fill you in.”

  And he did, explaining what had happened at Nottinghill and what they wanted to do.

  “Could you and your friends actually dig a moat around the town with the ground frozen?”

  “Of course, master! We would be happy to do it. If it will keep the cleric and her people safer, it is worth the effort.”

  Simon winked at Aeris, who smiled with some relief.

  Clara came back into the room carrying a tray with a teapot and cups on it. She set it down on a table and pour the tea while obviously listening to the one-sided conversation.

  “Excellent. Why don't you give them a call in my name, so they will answer the summons, and head down here when you're ready. You can start on the moat in the morning. Don't forget to lock up the tower and the gate before you leave.”

  “Very well, master. We should be there by sundown. And I always lock up before I leave,” he added tartly.

  Simon chuckled.

  “I know, my friend. So we'll see you when you get here.”

  “Yes master.”

  Simon ended the connection and then accepted tea from Clara.

  “Thanks,” he said to her and sipped the hot brew appreciatively.

  “My pleasure,” she said and sat down at the end of the sofa. “So, Kronk is going to help?”

  “Naturally. You know how eager he is to please.”

  The cleric smiled and then sat back with a sigh.

  “I am so relieved. These past few days have been trying. I've never lost people before and for one of them to be a precious child...”

  She shook her head helplessly.

  Simon watched her sympathetically.

  “I can't begin to understand how that feels, Clara, but with any luck, once this moat is installed, you won't have to face that horror again.”

  The cleric sipped her tea quietly and then looked at Simon, her expression bleak.

  “Won't I? The dark gods and their damnable dragons want us all dead. Yes, this moat may save my town for now, but what about the future? Walls and ditches won't stop a dragon.”

  Simon looked at her, began to speak and then sagged slightly in his seat.

  “I have no
answers for you,” he said finally. “But I'm resolved to try to stop them, somehow. My powers are growing beyond even my expectations and, in a few months, I may be ready to at least try to plan an attack on one of the primals. The next most powerful dragon is the green, so that will be my target.”

  “That's absurd,” Aeris snapped.

  Both Simon and Clara looked at him in surprise. The elemental hadn't said a word since they'd arrived and now he floated to the middle of the room so that he could look at them both simultaneously.

  “You almost destroyed yourself once by trying to regain your powers too quickly, my dear wizard. And now you want to tempt fate again? You will not be capable of facing a dragon in a few months, and certainly not one of the remaining primal dragons.”

  Simon frowned at him.

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence, Aeris. But my convalescence is over with and I have passed beyond your babysitting.”

  He stood up and glared at the elemental.

  “I will decide my own fate now. And if and when I choose to face the dragons again, it will be my decision, not yours.”

  Aeris gaped at him, obviously surprised at the wizard's sudden mood change.

  Simon's resentful anger faded as quickly as it had come and he smiled ruefully at the elemental. He sat down and picked up his tea cup.

  “Look, bud, I owe you and Kronk more than I can say. But the time for caution is quickly passing. Clara's right about the future. It is bleak. Unless we begin making plans, and soon, that poor little baby's death will only be the first of the next generation to fall.”

  The misty figure floated closer to Simon and watched him quietly for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he nodded abruptly.

  “You're right, of course,” he told the wizard in a quiet, serious voice. “Both Kronk and I are, perhaps, too close to you to see the big picture on occasion. We don't want you to die, Simon. It's that simple. But, well...” He looked almost helplessly at Clara. “The good cleric is correct, I suppose. Losing her people the way she did brings the horror of the future close to home.”

  He floated up to Simon's right and perched on the arm of the sofa again. His expression was more vulnerable than Simon had ever seen it and he felt a rush of guilt for snapping at the little guy.