by Bill Mays
A pink mist began to swirl up around the sage. The vapors were coming from the broken potion vial at her feet. The old woman used her good arm to push the fairy from the cloud before it enveloped her, too. Ado was already moving away. Herrin could think of nothing practical to do, so she punched her good fist into the floating head’s hidden face. The contact caused a cold burning sensation like the time she had tried touching the buckler back in Keilly. The old woman cried out in pain, but the head pulled back out of sight with a wheezing groan.
“You two get out of here before it comes back!” Herrin shouted. Strangely, the woman was staying rooted to her spot.
“Get up Herrin! Come with us!” Nivit cried. “We have to flee!”
The old woman looked at the girl sadly. As Nivit finished her sentence, the reiver stepped from the air to stand directly before the sage. The pink vapors twisted around the creature and began to flow inside the sleeves and hood of its robe. Herrin had begun to shrink, but the creature was absorbing the mist so rapidly that it, too, started to diminish in size.
The old woman let out a cackle of a laugh. “Gotcha!” She smiled.
More wheezing groans spilled from the reiver’s hidden face. The god-thing wrapped its long arms around the old woman and began feeding off of her life force. Herrin screamed in agony.
“Let’s get out of here while we can!” Ado squeaked, horrified by the sight.
“No! Nivit protested. “We have to save Herrin!”
“The reiver has her. There’s nothing we can do now,” Ado insisted. “We have to fly while we can.”
“No! I won’t leave her!” The fairy screamed through tears.
The girl darted towards the miniature woman and reiver. Nivit wriggled her little fingers. Tiny sparkles surrounded the miniature sage. Herrin began to lift from the pink mist. The miniature reiver was holding on tight, though. Ado started to fly away, but he just could not bring himself to do it. He mumbled a curse under his breath about becoming soft and then opened another shimmering portal next to the levitating duo.
“Drop them in it!” The gremlin squeaked loudly.
Nivit did as she was told. She could not stand the sound of Herrin’s screams. As soon as the two disappeared inside the portal, they reappeared mere inches away on the ground. Both were dazed by the very short trip. The reiver was recovering very quickly, but it had released its grip on the old woman.
“Grab her, and follow me!” Ado squeaked with panic.
Nivit grabbed Herrin in her arms and darted after the fleeing gremlin. The angry reiver released a horrid-sounding gurgle of rage. The noise was unlike anything either of them had ever heard before. The demon-god had already begun reverting to its original size.
“Don’t stop and don’t look back!” Ado called over his shoulder as he flew for the inn called The Seer’s Stone.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tark made his way back to the inn quickly. The building was completely abandoned and radiated strongly of a dull drain, like the dead zone around Keilly. The shriveled body of the proprietress was only recognizable by her clothing. Her daughter lay dead against the far wall.
“Ado? Herrin? Nivit?” The gladiator shouted frantically as he climbed the stairs to his former room.
Panic began to grip his heart. The first thing he noticed was that the window was broken out, not a good sign. The air in the room also felt drained and dull. Tark had a feeling of dread wash over him.
“It can’t be,” he whispered. “They had to have escaped.” The gladiator’s stomach churned with fear as he scanned the room desperately. He gripped the artifact tightly in an effort to calm his fear.
“Looking for someone?” A voice squeaked from the window. Ado, and then Nivit, carrying a miniature Herrin, darted inside the room.
“What happened here, and what happened to her?” The big man asked.
“No time to explain,” Ado huffed. “We need to leave this place in a hurry! Big trouble follows us.”
“This way!” Tark wasted no time leading them from the ravaged city of magic.
He guided them through the alleyways and out through the hole in the wall he spotted earlier. He took down four more believers along the way, but the situation did not look good for Talwen. The city was crumbling. They fled for hours into the night before fatigue claimed the little ones. Then Tark carried them all again, including a full-sized Herrin. The woman had not been herself since the encounter with the reiver, she was weak and tired and only slept. The sage was tossing and moaning in his arms long before they stopped for a break. Fear of pursuit kept him moving, but no one came for them. They escaped the fallen city of Talwen, but to what end? There were many decisions to be made, not the least of which was where to go from here. Tark would let the others rest for a time and ponder the possibilities. He took the opportunity to brace Herrin’s broken arm and wet her fevered forehead. The discussions about the future could wait. The sage needed him.
- Chapter 20 -
Forces on the Move
The plains were rugged and vast. Flade jumped nimbly down from the jagged pile of rocks. He climbed them to get a better view of the area that lay ahead. As expected, there was a high winding path that avoided the many, flooded areas of the low plains. Jeraud, a dark-skinned rider of Waynan, held the reins to a horse the resistance had supplied for Flade. The large nomad watched the blue-eyed youth with admiration as usual. It was a little awkward sharing the scouting duties, but the muscle-bound nomad had proven that he knew what he was doing, especially on this terrain. The man averted a messy situation by routing around an area he assured them would be unsafe this time of year. It was the rainy season in the plains that stretched sporadically across Kandair and south to encompass most of the nomad’s home country of Waynan. Flade doubted the advice that the reserved man offered at first. It later proved not to only be correct, but the new course saved them a good three days of backtracking to get around the flooded areas on the Dayscape Plains. Even during his travels from Merintz with the druid, Flade had never actually worked alongside another scout. Most of his travels had been solo ventures until meeting up with Arianna, Tark, and Dalia. Sure, he handed a few pointers out to Tark on occasion, but he was not used to getting pointers in return. Jeraud was a skilled wilderness man in his own right. The powerfully built nomad proved a limitless fountain of information when it came to the plains and the horses once his initial shyness was overcome. The blue-eyed ranger was actually enjoying his hands-on education from the reserved nomad. The two formed an almost instant friendship. They held a mutual respect for one another and for the majesty of nature. Jeraud treated him as a kinsman and the men spent much time together apart from the rest of the group. Flade enjoyed learning about the ways of the nomads, with their spiritual roots and special customs. The journey back across the plains was flowing much smoother than the trip out had. Riding atop horses made the distance fly by, while the twenty-soldier, armed escort did wonders for the nerves.
The days had been a little wet with scattered showers, but the nights had been very clear. Another such night gave the priestess time to indulge in one of her favorite hobbies. It also gave her the chance to share that interest with the younger members of their group. Arianna lay sprawled on a blanket with Petre and Jillian to either side of her. She directed them in stargazing, complete with intricate descriptions of each constellation visible this night. The priestess proved a wealth of information on the stories and history surrounding each star formation. Jillian seemed fascinated with the night sky, but Petre watched the priestess more than the stars. Arianna was an enigma, devoutly religious yet extremely uninhibited. The youth had never met a woman quite like her before. Ganze made it a point to avoid those three. He did manage to find entertainment, though. He joined in a game of dice with the soldiers. Any chance to swindle people out of a few coins was welcomed by the shady businessman. His sleight of hand skills were impressive, but he was careful not to win too often. It just would not do to raise the s
oldiers’ suspicion. His blackbird perched nearby watching the camp and his new master. Only Dalia was apart from the merriment. The lady kept to herself mostly. She watched Arianna move among the men flirtatiously and she admired how the woman spoke so freely with everyone. She knew the priestess had insecurities, but they did not keep her from enjoying life to the fullest. Sometimes Dalia wished that she could be as free with her actions and feelings. The lady saw Flade and the nomad socializing as well. Flade never had any problem making friends. Jeraud was always laughing over their private jokes. The men seemed to be enjoying themselves constantly. Even Jillian and Petre had grown close. She knew the camaraderie was a good thing, but she found no outlet for her own needs. Basically, she felt lonely.
Dalia wandered away to be apart. How she longed for something familiar and comfortable for a change. Most of her early youth had been pleasant until the horrible tragedy that took her mother. Even the years that followed found her in a fairly wealthy and pampered lifestyle. Her father was a prosperous merchant and a former member of Merintz nobility before coming to live in the desert lands. He was her best friend, always ready to support her in any endeavor. She missed her father terribly. He had always been there for her, encouraging her training in both her birth skills and her birthright. She regretted not paying more attention to the business of his trade. She had become fully involved in the school that secretly educated those born with the abilities of the idosians. She missed the school and her friends and teachers there. She was popular and an excellent student. Dalia had hoped to become a teacher herself, one of the esteemed psi-masters. That would have required many years of intense study and training, but Dalia was nothing if not dedicated. She had just begun her duties as an assistant instructor when everything fell apart. She thought about the many people that had been lost to her in her relatively short life. Disaster seemed to cling to her; it was not fair. She thought of Brody, and realized now that it was not really true love. He was the man she was intended to marry, an upstanding son to a large and powerful merchant family. His family and her father’s were longtime friends. The marriage seemed right until others learned of her mixed heritage and her involvement with the secret school. Brody and her father then died in a very suspicious accident. Not long after that, the school came under attack; and it was destroyed, too. On a fluke, she had been away during the tragedy. So many people had died because of her. She was too public a figure. Her presence put the school in danger and ultimately spelled its doom. She had no proof; but in her heart, she knew it to be true. All of the people who were important in her life were gone simply because of who and what she was. That is why she could not share her life with another. That is what she could not share with Tark. The life of one who bore idosian blood would never be easy. She contemplated Flade's choices and wondered if that subconscious thought had propelled him into the life of a ranger. Life on the open road seemed so much less judgmental. She smiled as she remembered the good times on the trails to Kandair with her new friends. They knew nothing of her heritage and accepted her at face value for who she was on the inside. She thought any hope of a pleasant life lost to her with the fall of the school. Her only goal had been to return to Merintz, claim her inheritance and fade into the background forever. Teevo and Tark reinforced the notion that life was worth living and blending into the background was as good as giving up. She missed Teevo’s smiling face and always willing to help attitude. She sensed his good nature the moment she saw the boy in the small orphanage of Keil-Van. She even missed Ado and his annoying sarcasm, but she missed Tark most of all. He was a man who made his choices and created his course. She admired his strength of character and determination. She thought of his embrace and his smile. He had a tough exterior but a kind and loving heart and a gentle touch. The lady let loose and started to weep. She realized that she was afraid, so afraid for him.
The sound of soft footsteps approaching reminded her of her promise to herself. She would not, could not, be weak anymore. Life would never be easy for someone like her, and it was best if she buckled up and prepared for that reality.
Dalia wiped the tears from her eyes quickly and turned to face her company with her usual porcelain mask. There was barely time to dodge aside as a large spiked club came smashing down at her. The lady quietly cursed her own stupidity as she drew her enchanted sword. In her state of self-pity, she had wandered a good distance from the camp. She let her guard down. They camped in an area strewn with large boulders and rocky ridges, so currently she could not see anything except the faint orange glow where the campfire lit the sky. There were at least two marguls and a sizeable party of goblins swarming the rocks around her. She was getting another cruel reminder not to let her emotions take control. Dalia pulled back, closed her eyes, and concentrated quickly. There was no time for debate, she needed help and she needed to warn the others before these creatures took the entire camp by surprise.
* * * * * * * * * *
Flade enjoyed spending time with the Waynan nomad. He felt completely at ease with the large man. There was something about Jeraud and the look in his warm eyes that assured Flade he did not have to hide anything from the man. Though, at first glance, he appeared gruff and dangerous with his numerous tattoos, plentiful weapons and bulging muscles, Jeraud was extremely friendly and genuinely interested in the ranger’s journeys from the desert lands. The ranger was in the middle of a story about his youth in his homeland when a voice rang inside his head
“Warn the others, enemies approach the camp. I need aid, please hurry!”
He knew immediately it was Dalia. She had been explaining her ability of mental communication to him during their brief moments alone. The lady had even offered to teach him the technique if he was able and open to learning. Flade had not fully grasped the idea that he had idosian heritage yet, and so he avoided the topic. The ranger stood quickly and scanned the area for the lady in white. She was nowhere to be seen.
“What is it? What did you hear?” Jeraud asked in his deeply accented voice of concern. The big warrior gripped the large spear he carried as his primary weapon. He knew something was not right.
“Alert the camp, we have enemies on the way. I must find Dalia.” Flade rushed off with blades in hand.
He had seen her last near the eastern edges of camp. The agile ranger quickly skipped atop and over the rocky ridge surrounding them in search of her. Jeraud began calling everyone to arms. Suddenly, the entire camp was rattling with swords and shields. They reacted quickly to his warning. The quiet nomad only spoke when something important needed to be said. They were none too soon in their preparations as goblins began to pour in from all sides. Arianna pulled forth her slim club, and Jillian held her bow ready nearby. Petre was already jumping in to join the front line of defense. Even Ganze gripped his dagger tightly, though he hoped never to see its use. He remained carefully at the center of camp with Coal and clear of combat. The Kandairian soldiers formed a circle around the campfire. Arianna, Jillian and Ganze were the only ones within the circle. Goblins began coming at them from all sides. Swords flashed as the trained soldiers cut the reckless little humanoids down by the dozens. The men fought in pairs, making certain to guard one another’s backs. Arianna added her prayers to give the men aid. As she chanted in a sultry voice a tingling sensation spread through all the allies around her. Rashas’ blessings fortified them. They each felt their reflexes were a bit better and their weapons moved a bit faster. Jillian picked off as many of the new arrivals crawling over the rocks as she could. She spun this way and that way taking down two of the little orange mongrels at a time. Her skill, too, was enhanced by the priestess’ chants. Ganze was busy whispering a prayer of his own, a prayer to Aethine, Goddess of Luck, that he would make it to Merintz alive. He hated these barbaric wild lands and the savage creatures that lived here. He dreamt nightly of the mansion he would buy full of able-bodied servants once he and his considerable wealth reached the merchant kingdom.
Petre cut down on
e then another gibbering goblin. He felt some small pleasure as their yellow eyes lost that spark of life. He was getting a little ahead of himself. The youth felt the tingle and watched as his every swing seemed to find its mark. He eagerly pulled farther ahead. He switched his tactics. He no longer waited for the mongrels to come to him, but instead chased after them. He hated these little savages and everything they stood for. They reminded him of the past evils he was a part of. Jillian spotted him moving into the goblin ranks with a battle cry.
“Petre, get back here you darn fool!” She yelled. It was no use. He could not hear her over the noise of battle. The girl focused her bow fire on keeping the goblins from his back.
Jeraud swatted through several more goblins in a sweeping arc of his spear. He scanned the fighting for the handsome ranger or the lady in white. Neither was visible. He did spot a scruffy little foolhardy youth pushing his luck by venturing into the goblin forces. The Waynan warrior was like a wild animal as he tore through the goblin ranks with a ferocious growl. He was a good-sized man and used his strength and his spear to bat the small humanoids aside in groups.
Petre took down two more goblins in his overzealous attack. “Tell your sadistic lords that they aren’t welcome here anymore!” The boy shouted angrily. “Get back to the holes you crawled out of!”
He hated traveling with and even associating with the smelly little savages. During his short stint as a soldier and then honorary captain of Drackmoore, the boy grew to despise the goblin-kin and their sadistic tactics. Before, he was afraid to speak out, but now he had the chance to show how he truly felt. The youth was not prepared when the hairy, black margul reared up before him. He stared up at the monster and he remembered his fear of these big, cruel creatures. It stood over a foot taller than him. They always frightened him. The first time he had seen one, he almost wet his underpants. Though they were cousins of the much smaller goblins, there was an evil intelligence in the hairy creature’s eyes that set them apart. They also had a flair for torture. The improved reflexes offered by Arianna’s chants came in handy as the spiked club fell on him. He raised his shield in time to keep from getting crushed, but he was thrown to the ground by the sheer force of the blow. Petre was not a big man, standing only about five-foot eight-inches tall. At barely seventeen years old, the youth had not even finished growing. He was well muscled and lean from years of hard farm work; and his youth was an asset. An arrow picked off a goblin set to take a free shot at the fallen boy. Petre did not even notice. His full attention was on the margul coming for him. A strong hand grabbed the boy by the collar and lifted him to his feet. Petre exhaled sharply, he fully expected to become goblin fodder. To his surprise, it was the nomad scout, Jeraud.
