Dawn of the Sacred Land

by Mark E. Tyson

  The Drasmyd Duil glanced up to see that Gondrial, Sylvalora, and Shey had exited the inn and were searching nearby. He concentrated on his memory of Lyrrath and touched a fragment of bone that was still dissolving. The creature’s face and body twisted and contorted into the perfect form of the dead man. He spit once more on the corpse to dissolve the rest of the clothing, and stood up.

  “Hey, over here. I caught up with it.” His voice mimicked Lyrrath’s exactly.

  Gondrial, Lady Shey, and Sylvalora hurried to him.

  “There.” He pointed to the putrid body dissolving into the ground. “I cast essence on him and stopped him, but when I caught up to him, he started doing that.”

  Shey turned into Gondrial’s arms.

  Sylvalora went down to one knee. “I have never seen anything like this before. It seems he killed himself off.”

  “This is new. If he is a Drasmyd Duil, he is not one I have ever encountered before,” Gondrial said.

  Sylvalora touched the tip of her finger to the ground, and it sizzled. She reached in her pocket and found a handkerchief. She concentrated on the fabric, and it glowed briefly with power. She used it to scoop up some of the liquid, dirt and all.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Lyrrath asked.

  “Take it to Sanmir. The Darovan elves have encountered a few creatures foreign to us here. He may have some idea of what it is we’re dealing with.” She took the sample and started walking toward the inn.

  “It’s horrible. We have had that thing with us since Valwall,” Shey said.

  Gondrial kept his arm around Shey’s shoulder. “Come on, we will go to Sanmir’s shop too.”

  Shey nodded.

  “I am going to the inn to wash off. I think I got some of that . . . whatever it is on me. I will meet you at Sanmir’s shop,” Lyrrath said.

  Lyrrath knew he had to complete his mission now, this moment, in case he was caught again. What if Sanmir knew how to detect him? He hurried to the inn and went inside. He made his way back to the bar at the back of the room and waited until he heard the name he was after. The big, balding man in the white apron behind the counter finally called it out. The boy named Dorenn appeared. The bald man sent him to the storeroom for a keg of ale. Lyrrath waited for his moment and then followed the boy. He took the stone he had retrieved in the dungeons beneath the White Tower from his pocket and cast it, striking him in the back. A purplish flame covered Dorenn, and he fell to the floor. Lyrrath slinked away and watched Dorenn get back up before he went back to the common room.

  That should suppress his ability to draw essence, he thought, and if he does draw it in, he will have a sickness he will not soon recover from or forget! Lyrrath walked through the common room. From Lyrrath’s memories, the creature thought of how Dorenn might behave if he did get essence sickness. A bit whiny and even a bit annoying, perhaps? The creature who was Lyrrath laughed to himself as he left the inn to join the others at Sanmir’s shop.

  Chapter 11: No Rest for the Dead

  When they entered his shop, Lady Shey and Gondrial found Sanmir examining the contents of the handkerchief Sylvalora had given him. He was so intent that he didn’t even look up when the small bell above his door jingled the arrival of potential customers. After a few moments, he retrieved an eyeglass and fastened it over his right eye.

  He held the fabric and its contents up close to his eyeglass. “I will need to examine it in more detail and perform some experiments, but I believe it’s a potent acid of some kind. I have some counter agents and salves that can negate it.”

  “There is no need for that. This was the boy who was traveling with us. Apparently, he was a shapeshifter, a form of Drasmyd Duil, perhaps. Have you seen anything like this before?” Sylvalora asked.

  “Well . . . in Darovan, there is a species of flying Dramyd that spits acid similar to this, some kind of cross between a drake and a desert lizard called a Firomanx. However, my people have supposedly killed off the brood.”

  “That doesn’t mean the line could not have been reintroduced. There is evidence that Toborne and Naneden have continued the experiments of Kambor,” Gondrial said.

  Sanmir took off his eyeglass. “Kambor, the Oracle? He has been dead since the war.”

  Lady Shey sighed. “We have seen evidence he may just be dormant somewhere in the Sacred Land, revitalizing with the Sacred Land.”

  “I see. So that’s why you came disguised for my report on the descendants of Ardenia. You have been reading the scattered, disjointed sketches of prophesy.”

  “Scattered and disjointed is correct. No one has ever taken the ramblings of Morgoran or the writings of the defeated Oracle seriously enough to research and record a true prophesy. Nevertheless, we are investigating all the possibilities.”

  “As you should be. What does Ianthill think?”

  Gondrial chuckled. “We haven’t gotten that far yet. I sure he still knows very little. I will send him a report as soon as I am able.”

  Sanmir put the handkerchief back down on the counter. “As far as I can tell, you brought this danger here with you. I have had no reports of Drasmyd Duil or Dramyds around Brookhaven. I shall double my efforts on watching Dorenn and his friends. It is possible this creature saw something or heard something. He might have made some kind of report before he died.”

  The bell above the door jingled, and Lyrrath walked in.

  “Not likely,” Sylvalora said. “He was in my sight the entire time.”

  Sanmir turned his attention to Lyrrath. “I understand you are the one who happened upon this creature. What happened?”

  Lyrrath cleared his throat. “I chased the boy out behind the inn. I used essence and stopped him in his tracks near where he fell. When I caught up to him, he was spewing this substance from his mouth, and the rest of his body oozed it until he dissolved right before my eyes.”

  “You used magic here? A bold move considering the Enforcers are often seen around here,” Sanmir said.

  “I had to do something. I am not as young as I used to be. I couldn’t let the boy get away.”

  Lady Shey was disgusted after hearing the details of the chase. “Enough. I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I had grown fond of the boy, regardless, and I can’t take hearing this again.” She shoved off Gondrial, who was trying to offer comfort, and headed for the door. “It’s been a long day. I am going to find the inn mistress, get some overpriced elvish wine, and go to my room.”

  Sylvalora smoothed down her robes. “I think I will join her.”

  As soon as Sylvalora left the shop, Gondrial locked the door behind her and let the cloth shade fall with the word closed printed on the outside of it.

  “Gondrial, it isn’t—”

  “You’re closed!” He pulled a bottle of mountain-distilled whiskey out from under his leather vest.

  “Aye, I believe I am. I will get the glasses.”

  “Pull up a chair, if you can find one, Lyrrath. It’s time to leave your worries at the door and float on the whiskey river.”

  After breakfast, Lady Shey decided it was time to leave before someone realized she no longer had a son. It was time to get back to Soldier’s Bluff and Rodraq. The only danger in Brookhaven was the danger she had brought with her. Ianthill was right; Sanmir was a fine choice for guardian, and the Darovan elf enjoyed being the village apothecary. At the stables, she watched Gondrial fumble with his bridle, obviously recuperating from last night’s drink. It was probably a good thing to get him away from Brookhaven as well, before he did more damage than good. Behind Gondrial, an unusually quiet Lyrrath prepared his horse.

  “Are you ready to ride out, Minda?” Sylvalora asked.

  “I’m ready, Aurelie.”

  Shey thought by having Sylvalora ride out of the village with her that anyone who remembered her riding with someone might forget it was originally a little boy. After they put some distance between them and Brookhaven, she relaxed. Gondrial and Lyrrath were to catch up with them afte
r Watch Hill.

  It was late afternoon, nearly evening, when the four of them reached the sprawling town of Soldier’s Bluff. They rode directly to the Sea and Ale Inn, where they found Rodraq having his supper in the common room after they had their horses stabled and their things taken up to their rooms. Shey and Sylvalora were still dressed in their plain clothing. Almost immediately after supper, Lyrrath excused himself, so the remaining four went out into the private balcony to fill in Rodraq on the events of Brookhaven and discuss their next move.

  Rodraq drew heavily on his pipe and let the white smoke drift from his lips. “I noticed the boy didn’t come in the common room with you. I thought maybe he had been held up stabling his horse or something, at first.”

  Gondrial must have seen the distress on Shey’s face. “This has become a sore subject for Lady Shey, Rodraq. I think she would rather move away from it.”

  Shey nodded.

  “Forgive me, my lady, I wasn’t thinking,” Rodraq said.

  Gondrial took out his pipe and began to fill it. “I’m going to have to visit the tabac shop tomorrow. I’m nearly out.”

  “Soldier’s Bluff has some fine blends from the fields near here.”

  “I have heard. I am looking forward to trying some.”

  “Go ahead, Gondrial. I know you want to. I don’t mind this time,” Shey said.

  Gondrial was confused. “The shops are closed, and I still have some of my tabac from Symbor.”

  “No, not the tabac. I saw you eyeing the ale drafts on the way up. Why don’t you and Rodraq go and get you a pint and bring it up here. In fact, I think Sylvalora and I would enjoy an elvish wine as well.”

  “I knew there had to be an ulterior motive,” Gondrial said.

  “Are you complaining?” Shey asked, sitting up slightly in her seat.

  “Oh no, no, I’m not. Come on, Rodraq.”

  The warrior put his pipe down on the wooden arm of his chair. “You’ll watch this for me?”

  “Aye, we won’t let it get away,” Shey said.

  “What did you want to say to me?” Sylvalora said as soon as Rodraq left.

  “What?” Shey said absently.

  “I thought you sent the boys away on purpose, to talk to me in private, perhaps.”

  “No, not this time. After the events in Brookhaven, I thought the last thing I needed to be was ridged and controlling. Let the men relax and have some fun for a little while.”

  “Sheyna Namear, you are not fooling me. You know something or feel something. Is it about the boy?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know. When Ianthill took over for Morgoran as my master, he tried to tell me a day would come when the Sacred Land would renew its power and there would be a struggle to get at that power. I just didn’t know I would be so vested in all of it. A guardian of the descendants of my best friend, a master wielder, now may be a mentor. Dark days are ahead, and I thought maybe Gondrial, Lyrrath, and Rodraq could use some slack before they become frontline soldiers.”

  Gondrial and Rodraq returned with two pints, a bottle of wine, and two wine glasses. To be polite, Gondrial opened and poured the wine before he took his seat and resumed preparing his smoking pipe. He turned his padded seat to face out over the balcony. He was about to light his pipe when he saw Lyrrath walk from the rear of the inn toward a heavily wooded area.

  “Shey, is that Lyrrath?” He pointed to the man walking across the rear lawn of the inn.

  “I do believe it is,” Lady Shey agreed. “Shall I call to him?”

  “No, let him go. I want to see where he ends up.”

  Rodraq squinted to see in the dark. “Did he go into the woods? I wish I had your elvish eyesight!”

  Gondrial got up from his chair. “He is about to go into the woods, and he is stopping to look around. That’s not the look of a man who is out for a night stroll; that’s the look of a man who is checking to see if he is being followed.”

  Lady Shey gasped as Gondrial flipped over the balcony and carefully climbed down the rock-sided building to the ground. “Be careful, you fool,” she said.

  “I will be right back,” he whispered up to her.

  They all hurried to the edge of the balcony to watch Gondrial silently stalk across the lawn and enter into the woods at the precise spot Lyrrath entered.

  Gondrial caught up to Lyrrath and followed him deeper into the woods. He remembered the overly cautious and paranoid Lyrrath and wondered why it was suddenly so easy to follow him. The Lyrrath he knew would have known he was on his heels. Gondrial refrained from drawing in essence to cloak himself from the other man’s perceptions. Since Lyrrath was also a wielder, he might detect the flow of power around him this close. Being half-elven, Gondrial was pretty light on his feet, anyway, when he needed to be. He came within listening distance and promptly found a place to hide and listen. Who is Lyrrath talking to anyway? Himself?

  “Why do you summon me here? It is dangerous. I was almost caught once already,” Lyrrath said.

  “The true master prepares in the Sacred Land. He sends me.”

  Gondrial could not see the other figure well, but judging by its guttural voice and thick speech, he knew what it was. Why was Lyrrath meeting with such a creature? His first impulse was to confront him on his betrayal. Maybe he was being controlled somehow.

  “Tell the master I have completed my first mission,” Lyrrath said.

  “I will not be going back to the master. I have a mission of my own. I am only here to convey your next mission.”

  Abruptly, it dawned on Gondrial. The boy killed Lyrrath and took his place! He did something back in Brookhaven that completed his mission.

  “Our master has had another vision from his tomb. You are in position to kill the one known as Lady Shey, but you are to leave the one called Sylvalora alive. I have business in Brookhaven. The master has confirmed the one called Dorenn will one day be able to control the vast power of the Sacred Land once it completes its renewal cycle. I will see him dead.”

  “I should go. How will you gain access to the village? You do not have the visage of someone who can gain easy access to the boy. I do.”

  “No, you are to kill the woman, and there is more to your mission. I have a way into the village. I will be ready to leave tomorrow. The master says after you kill the woman, you should travel to Symbor and meet Naneden. The grimoire with the traveling spells is located there. You will help him steal it from the king’s palace.” Two wings extended up behind the creature. “I smell something. Someone is near.” It flapped its wings and took off into the night sky. Lyrrath began to sniff the air. Gondrial backtracked a few steps and then came stumbling up near where the two creatures were meeting. He began to unbutton his pants as if he was about to relieve himself. He appropriately jolted when he saw Lyrrath.

  “Lyrrath,” he slurred, “you frightened the fire out of me. What are you doing out here wandering the woods this time of night?”

  “The same as you. I needed to take a break.”

  “Well, I can’t go now. You scared it right back in. I better have some more ale.” He turned back toward the inn. “You had better do your business and get out of these woods. Dangerous creatures prowl around out here.” He began to stagger back the way he came. He started singing a drinking song to hide his nerves. He heard the imposter walking behind him.

  “If there are creatures out here, your singing will repel them!”

  Gondrial smiled to himself. That’s something Lyrrath would have said. This new Drasmyd Duil is a clever deceiver.

  Chapter 12: Born of Evil

  Gondrial wondered if Lyrrath was going to try to carry out his mission immediately. He hoped he had time to warn Shey about the imposter first.

  “Wait a moment, what am I thinking!”

  “What was that?” Lyrrath asked.

  Gondrial faced Lyrrath. “I don’t have to warn Shey.”

  Lyrrath looked confused, and Gondrial was amused by it. Raising his hands to chest level, Gondrial
began to draw in essence while a simultaneous bluish-purple ribbon of pure essence formed behind him, writhing back and forth and moving in circles like an ethereal snake.

  Lyrrath immediately assumed an attack posture, his mouth expanding too far to be human, as Gondrial approached him. The imposter spit out his acid bile at Gondrial. With a flick of the wrist, the ethereal ribbon of essence hovering above Gondrial intercepted the acid, eliminating it.

  “Nice try. So, this is how you killed Lyrrath. You can drop the illusion.”

  The illusion of Lyrrath faded away, revealing the dark, leathery skin and scales of a Drasmyd Duil. It spoke in a deep, guttural voice. “You had better pray to Fawlsbane Vex or Loracia that there are no Enforcers near. That ribbon of essence must scream of your presence to them.”

  “You just let me worry about the Enforcers and you worry about me!” Gondrial reached out with lightning speed, his forefingers and middle fingers at a point on each hand. The ribbon of essence followed his movements. Each time the tips of his fingers touched the torso of the Drasmyd Duil, the essence ribbon followed and struck at exactly each point where his fingers had just been. The Drasmyd Duil screamed as each point where the essence struck became a piercing sword wound. It tried to spit, and Gondrial again blocked it with essence. The Drasmyd Duil lurched forward, and Gondrial pushed it back, the essence ribbon following through at each touch. Gondrial kicked out at one leg, and the Drasmyd Duil went down on one knee. He clasped the creature’s head with both hands and released. The essence ribbon came in force from both sides and penetrated its head, snaking through and exiting the mouth. The creature collapsed to the ground, and Gondrial let the ribbon dissipate.

  “Not such an improved version of Drasmyd Duil, after all,” he said. “I had better get you a little farther into the woods. I don’t have time to bury you, and I’d wager it won’t take you long to start stinking. Thunder and rain! Who am I talking to? You’re dead!” He kicked the creature in the side. “That’s for making me talk to myself.” He went to the head of the creature and started pulling it back into the woods by its leathery wings. “That kick was for Lyrrath too.”