“Not if there are men of our blood among them,” Kavan countered, the sudden fear of fighting his own people awakened.
Pirneon offered a sad smile. “No. There are no more.”
He left Kavan to guess the meaning. Too many old friends had died on his blade. It was a burden only he bore.
“None of that explains why they hunt us. And now of all times,” Kavan ventured. He ran a hand through his dirty hair. He was tired. Exhausted was more appropriate. Sleep beckoned. One question haunted him more than the others. “What is their strength? In the night, they appeared endless. We would not have survived if not for Aphere.”
Pirneon’s features darkened at her mention. “Five hundred has always been their size. No more, no less.”
“Five hundred?” Kavan said in disbelief. “Pirneon, we cannot fight five hundred men. Not with the four of us.”
“What do you mean four?” Geblin snapped.
They all turned to look at him in surprise. The Gnome stood before them with a scowl, seemingly permanently etched into his flesh, and tapping one foot impatiently.
“Be quiet, Gnome,” Pirneon fired back. “None of us is in a mood to hear your antics.”
“Antics, is it? You think you know so much about the rest of the world. Let me enlighten you for a change,” Geblin was furious, his rage barely contained. “You want to know the truth of why I was in the Ogre cave? Do you? We’d gone there to kill it.”
Eyes widened at the sudden, unexpected admission.
“That’s right. Kill it. The Ogre was responsible for murdering dozens of my kin. So we put together a raiding party and went to put an end to him for good.” Geblin fell silent. Memories of his friends’ last moments plagued him.
Kavan bore a wry grin. Even Barum was impressed.
“This certainly puts matters into a different light. Why the deception?”
Geblin snorted. “What makes you think I could trust any of you? Our races don’t exactly get along. Even in the Spine, we have heard of the murdering Gaimosians. I took no chances and hoped for the right moment to slip away.”
“You’ve had dozens of opportunities to leave,” Kavan said.
Geblin hesitated. “I…I have a debt to repay.”
“To whom?”
“To you, damn it! You saved my life, all of you did. I may not be of the same stature as you famous knights, but my honor is no less. You saved my life, and I’ll not leave until that debt is repaid.”
Pirneon’s gaze softened. “Very admirable, especially considering our current situation. I accept your aid in this quest. Your debt shall be repaid.”
The conversation ended in uneasy silence. Geblin’s secret was a surprise none of them had been expecting. Kavan still wanted to bash his head in for the past but also discovered budding respect. Gnomes were renowned for being thieves, leading Kavan to wonder if more wasn’t being said.
“Geblin, what is your specialty?”
Geblin’s eyes narrowed. He lied, “I was a scout.” He’d just built the foundations of trust, but there was no reason to tell everything. Not yet, at any rate. There were some secrets too dark and uninviting that needed to be kept.
“Perhaps you can help me. We can split the duties. Two sets of eyes are always better than one,” Kavan choked out. It was a stretch for him. There was no love lost between man and Gnome, but at least he was making the attempt. It was all he could do in the situation.
“I’ll think about it,” Geblin replied and turned Aphere. “What’s wrong with her?”
“We don’t know,” Barum said. He’d been quiet throughout the exchange and for good reasons. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Aphere. The longer they shared company the more he found feelings intensifying. She was everything he had ever desired in a partner. But only if… He’d also been suspecting Geblin of hiding important facts and took personal interest in him. The last thing he wanted was to kill the Gnome.
“So much power,” Geblin said and sat beside her prone form. He’d never admit it, but he was fond of her.
Barum hid a smile and went to finish taking care of the horses. Maybe their tiny company had a chance for success after all.
Kavan and Pirneon sat across from each other with guarded poise. Unspoken hostility lay between them. Kavan’s concern for Aphere was equally matched by the growing anxiety over the divide between them. Pirneon was a proud man, unbending. That exaggerated pride threatened to tear the group apart.
Kavan couldn’t stand it any longer. “This must stop, Pirneon.”
Pirneon eyed him dismissively. “I agree. She is becoming a mortal danger to us.”
“Damn it, you! Not her. You know this,” he growled back.
Pirneon shot to his feet. “She’s the problem, Kavan! What she’s becoming is an abomination. Everything she is has the potential to destroy us. No Gaimosian has ever had this taint. None!”
“Why should it be a taint? Why not a gift? After all, she was the one chosen to speak with the oracle. Not you or I. Without Aphere, this quest would already be lost.”
“Lost! How can that be so? Our people have gone through generations in exile, all towards one goal. I’ve spent my life without wavering, always on a clear path. But her, what dark sorcery will she unleash upon us when she finally loses control?”
“She is not a threat. She never has been. We should all be dead. Whatever power she has can save our lives.”
“As well as destroy us,” Pirneon wagged an accusing finger.
Kavan folded his arms across his chest in frustration. “What, then, do you propose? Kill her now, and be done with it? Or should we just abandon her for the wolves? Tell me, oh wise Knight Marshal. What should we do?”
“Of course we don’t kill her! That’s not what I am saying. Aphere is a hazard. To you and to me, Kavan,” Pirneon countered.
“Then leave. This is my quest. It always has been. I was the one who came to you for help and guidance. You’ve given it. Take Barum and go off in search of new, less dangerous adventures.”
Kavan’s words bit deep, but Pirneon stood his ground. Shock registered for the briefest moment. When he spoke, his words were deliberate, precise. “I cannot leave. The oracle said as much. If this quest is to succeed, I must be there at the end.” He turned and began walking away. “Regardless of my personal feelings, I will fulfill my part. No one living or dead can say I quit before the task was complete. Mark my words, though, Kavan: no good will come of this.”
“Like it or not, there is little we can do. It is the way of things to change.” Kavan felt his anger release.
“When this task is complete, she and I will resolve our differences.”
Kavan shook his head. “She’s not the problem.”
“Then I head east.”
“To what end?”
Pirneon smiled darkly. “To find Kistan and see what atrocities he has been teaching his disciples.”
They fell silent. Night came on, and they ate a meager traveler’s meal. Kavan took first watch. That old itch was coming back. He wanted to be alone again. Working with so many others presented unwanted challenges. He’d forgotten all of the insurmountable arrogance associated with teamwork. His feelings for Aphere were strong, though he doubted they signified love. Maybe, deep down where his most private feelings hid, he was worried about her developing powers. Maybe.
There was the slightest chance Pirneon was right. Aphere could be the end of their world. She wasn’t alone. Kistan had recruited several of their kind and was instructing them in similar fashion. If just one of the others was as strong as Aphere, the balance of power in Malweir was threatened. The thought made him cringe. Too many had died for less over the course of history.
Their own history loomed much more prominently. Gaimos had been destroyed because of the same fear Pirneon now possessed. The fear turned to fervor and then riots. Citizens of the surrounding kingdoms begged for salvation against the witch-men of Gaimos. One by one the rulers fell in line with popul
ar support, and a vast army was raised. The war was long, bloody. Tens of thousands died, but the outcome was never in doubt.
Gaimosian borders were steadily pushed back. Outlying villages and farms were burned to the ground. The Gaimosian army made one final, desperate stand on the slopes of Skaag Mountain. The battle raged long and furious. After six days, the remnants of Gaimos broke and fled. The ones who escaped went into exile until a time when it was safe to be seen again. Of Gaimos, nothing remained. Every city, every monument was razed. Pirneon feared a repeat if Aphere managed to lose control.
Kavan gave Aphere another glance and shuddered. Any earlier feelings he might have harbored for her were slowly fading. Love, he now understood, was more fickle than his imagination. He played it off on having been away from quality company for too long. Regardless, he now knew that nothing would come from a relationship with Aphere. Her powers frightened him on deeper levels than love could stretch. She was an admirable woman and he prayed those times etched in Pirneon’s fear weren’t returning. Only the Knight Marshal was old enough to remember the purging, though it was ingrained in every Gaimosian. The past must not be repeated. A touch of sadness reached Kavan’s heart. A man without home or people shouldn’t be subjected to even more torment.
They resumed their trek at dawn, and still there was no sign of the Fist. Kavan wanted to hope they’d given up and gone back to their masters in defeat. Common sense knew better. If the Fist were as persistent as Pirneon claimed, they would never stop. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Death was a constant companion for the children of Gaimos, lurking ever beyond reach. They never knew when the end would strike. Kavan could only hope it wasn’t this day.
His eyes never stopped roving. Ambush spots peppered the surrounding area. He felt ill prepared. Should darkness creep upon them again, he wanted to meet it like the knight he’d been born to become. At midday, he halted and drank deeply from a canteen. The water was tepid and almost brackish tasting. Sweat trickled down his face. The weather was changing. It grew hotter, more humid.
He’d noticed the gradual change in terrain as well. Open grasslands gave way to thicker underbrush. The ground sloped up. Hills now dotted the countryside. Murky haze clung to the ground a short distance away. So near, yet unreachable. Kavan found himself almost wishing for the cold grip of winter. Still, he rode on. At last, he entered the mist and that border between light and dark. Kavan decided to wait for the others to catch up. A foul stench drowned the land. None of them said it, but they knew they had come to the edge of the great swamp.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Uelg
If ever a part of Malweir personified decay, it was the Uelg. A place so old man had no remembered name for it, the great swamp was all but forgotten by time. The very ground was a festering bog. It was a place where creatures came to die. The air was humid and ripe with foul stench. Nothing good lived within. Fumes and gases turned the sky sickly shades of decay.
“This is a dread place, Pirneon,” Kavan said through the cloth covering his nose and mouth.
Mold covered the nearby vegetation. The ground sank as they walked. Kavan instantly grew concerned over stumbling across a patch of quicksand. Better men had come and died here.
“What choice do we have? It is still far to Aradain, and our enemy will not have abandoned their hunt.”
“We could double back and swing east up into the Crags.”
Pirneon frowned. “No. That’s too dangerous, even for us. We are in no condition to fight, and the Fist is still out there.”
Mist clung to the horses ankles. Kavan glanced worriedly. “I feel something unclean about this place. The swamp is dangerous.”
“Hopefully enough to deter the Fist.”
“It will also give them time to circle around and cut us off,” Kavan said. “It’s impossible to move quickly through here. The swamp is old. Many creatures from the days before time wait within.”
“This talk is going nowhere,” Pirneon said with finality. “Push on and get it over with.”
Geblin rolled his eyes at their banter. His people knew more about the Uelg than any other race, and these knights were too foolish to ask. The Gnome kingdom bordered the great swamp. Hundreds of hunters had been lost to the perpetual murk. Gnomes were highly superstitious, and their eccentric losses soon spread. The Uelg became a house of evil, and the folk of Malweir stayed clear lest they, too, were swallowed.
Now he was headed directly into it. Geblin had begged for a weapon after revealing parts of his true nature and was rewarded with one of Barum’s daggers. The Gaimosian blade was a sword in his small hands.
Leaning close to Kavan, he whispered, “We shouldn’t be here. This place is evil.”
Kavan offered a wry grin. Danger flashed behind his eyes. Then, he rode in trail of Pirneon. Geblin felt his already failing hopes of survival dash apart. He knew without a doubt that he was going to die here. He cursed the day the knights had rescued him from the Mountain Ogre. He cursed every decision he’d made to stay after.
“Take heart, Geblin. There are no finer warriors in the world,” Barum told him in passing.
The Gnome snorted. “Words. Just words.”
His was the last horse to enter the swamp, escorting Aphere along the way. He prayed to come out the other side.
The day crawled agonizingly along. Temperatures became unbearable fast. All five were soaked through with sweat and reek. It dripped down their backs, into their eyes. They found it hard to breathe as the swamp choked in around them. It was far worse than the closeness of Hresh Werd.
Vision was limited to a handful of meters. They caught heavy footsteps crashing through the unseen distance. Creatures of the old world, Kavan had said. The sounds made him want to break into a run but doing so would spell their doom. Mud sucked them ever downward. Boulders sprang up from the mist to block the already slender paths. Every footstep became a struggle just to move forward.
Fallen trees lined the paths. Mold drooled off slime-encrusted bark. Hot splashes sizzled over pools of acidic water. Other pools were coal black and bubbling over. The knights agreed that this was a world gone mad. Halfway through the afternoon, they stumbled upon the remains of a gigantic beast long dead. Bleached white bones littered the area, most easily larger than a man. The rib cage blocked the path like an eerie tunnel. The knights stared in wonder, each wondering what sort of creature could have walked the world.
Pirneon finally called a halt once they cleared the skeleton. His silver-grey hair was plastered to his skull. His eyes bore an almost hollowed out gaze. “Not even the sun.”
Kavan drank deep from his canteen. “We could be going in circles, though it doesn’t feel right.”
“The Fist would be mad to follow us.”
Kavan forced a laugh. “Just as mad as we are. Do you have any idea how big this swamp is?”
Pirneon didn’t.
“We’ll have to start looking for a defensible place to spend the night. This weather is taking a toll on the animals as well,” Kavan said.
“Are you mad?” Geblin exclaimed.
A great and terrible roar shattered the still of the swamp.
“We cannot stay the night in this!”
Pirneon agreed but didn’t see another solution. “Do you have a better idea?”
“This swamp is evil. You’re damning us all.”
“We’ve been damned for many long years, Gnome. Unless you have something pertinent to contribute, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
“Then we sleep on the bones of my people,” Geblin fumed.
She awoke a short time later, dazed. Much of color had returned, though her body ached from such exertion. Borderline dehydrated and starving, Aphere clumsily accepted food and drink while she attempted to recall the events of the battle.
“I don’t know what happened,” Aphere told them.
Only Pirneon remained separate. His condemnation of her abilities wasn’t about to shift simply because she woke up. Aphere
was an abomination, and he intended to remind her so.
She finished the last bite of dried venison and washed it down with lukewarm water. “I thought it was the end. We were surrounded and about to be overwhelmed. I felt a rush through my veins. It was like fire spreading through me. I blacked out after feeling like I’d caught fire.”
“You’ve been unconscious for nearly two days,” Barum said.
He finished repacking the rations and canteens. Nerves threatened to get the best of him. He felt like the swamp wanted them to stay. Barum felt restricted in unimaginable ways.
Kavan laid a hand on her shoulder. “Aphere, are you well enough to travel? We need to leave this place.”
“I think so. I’m just tired,” she replied, blinking thoughtfully. “Where are we?”
Kavan offered a sheepish grin and told her what had happened since she blacked out. An enormous shadow soared overhead, giving him pause.
“We must go,” Pirneon said harshly.
Kavan nodded and helped Aphere ease into her saddle. Everything was against them, and it didn’t matter if she was well enough to ride. The shadow passed again as the Gaimosians moved out.
They spent the night in silence, tucked away in a rotted copse of firs. Great branches bowed down, the browned needles swept outward in a protective fan. It was inadequate for cover, but the knights failed to find anything else. A brief dinner was eaten to the accompanying sounds of the night. Wordlessly, they bedded down and pulled their guard shifts, all the while praying nothing wicked came from the dark.
Dawn arrived without fanfare. The murk remained oppressive, nearly impenetrable. After a while, it began to dampen spirits and affect morale. Ever the swamp pressed in on them. Suffocating. Stifling. It was late afternoon when they stumbled upon a great lake in the middle of the swamp.
Aphere eyed the haze-covered waters uneasily. A warning went off in the back of her mind, a silent alarm alerting her to the pain of the future. She held her tongue, though, concerned with Pirneon’s mistrust and growing intolerance. Still, she teased her blade from the scabbard just in case.
Beyond the Edge of Dawn Page 18
