Blood of the Earth

by David A. Wells

  “I know,” Alexander said, “but we have to try.” He kicked his mare into a gallop, pushing her to run as fast as he dared, given the uneven footing of the bombed-out city. They reached the gate and coaxed their horses into a sprint. The man mixed with darkness had a commanding lead and was gaining ground. Every three steps or so he would disappear and reappear twenty feet farther from Alexander and closer to the Rangers’ encampment.

  The Rangers at the perimeter of the camp had seen the enemy and raised the alarm. Dozens of arrows met him but he either disappeared before the shafts struck home or shortly after, only to reappear closer without any trace of injury. It was as if his body was made whole each time he teleported.

  Then he was inside the camp.

  A Ranger fell.

  The enemy vanished and reappeared.

  Another fell.

  Alexander spurred his horse into a reckless sprint, closing the remaining yards.

  The Ranger in command of the perimeter guard ordered his men to stand back to back once he saw the nature of the enemy. Alexander was impressed with the quick thinking and calm decision making of the young man in the face of such an impossible threat.

  The man mixed with darkness appeared to the side of a pair of Rangers and stabbed one, though not fatally, before the other stabbed him. He cackled with malice and disappeared.

  Alexander charged into the camp with Isabel at his side. He drew Mindbender and stretched out with his mind to listen for the enemy’s thoughts. He guided his horse in the direction of the next target. The man mixed with darkness was moving deeper into the camp, striking wherever he could.

  Another Ranger fell. His partner stabbed the enemy. He didn’t disappear right away but instead stepped into the blade, driving the length of it through his gut and then stabbed the Ranger in the heart. Alexander rounded a tent just as the man mixed with darkness disappeared.

  “Isabel, on your left!” Alexander called out in warning as the man appeared just in front of Isabel and to the left of her horse’s path. He thrust his dagger into her horse’s throat. The animal squealed in pain and crashed to the ground, taking Isabel with it.

  She flew forward over her horse’s head and tumbled to the ground. The man mixed with darkness looked at Alexander and smiled, then disappeared.

  He heard the enemy’s thoughts through Mindbender and knew that Isabel was his target. She lay stunned on the ground, her shield long since dispelled, helpless.

  Everything slowed down for Alexander. He was in a fight and he had a sword in his hand, but not just any sword. He held Mindbender. A weapon fashioned by an adept wizard to be wielded by an adept wizard. A weapon of surpassing power.

  He formed the image he wanted and released it into the sword, even as the man mixed with darkness reappeared standing over Isabel, only the enemy didn’t see what he expected to see. When he looked down, he didn’t see Isabel at his feet, where she truly was. Instead, he saw Isabel sprawled out on the ground a good ten feet away. Alexander had projected a simple illusion to deceive the enemy.

  Confusion stole across the man’s face and his confidence faltered as Alexander slipped off his horse.

  A nearby Ranger drove an arrow into the man mixed with darkness. He disappeared and reappeared behind the Ranger, killing him with a single thrust to the heart.

  Again, Alexander created a false vision of reality and released it into the sword. Mindbender had substance only as a blade but it was powerful beyond words, for it could create belief within the mind of the enemy.

  Belief was all powerful.

  The man mixed with darkness stopped and looked around with wary confusion. The Ranger encampment was gone, Isabel was gone, the horses were gone. All he could see was Alexander in an open field on the outskirts of Northport.

  The man mixed with darkness shrugged off his confusion and fixed his murderous glare on Alexander before vanishing. Alexander knew where he would reappear, Mindbender told him his enemy’s thoughts even as they formed. He stepped to the side and brought his blade up to strike.

  When the man mixed with darkness reappeared, he slashed at Alexander with his dark blade, tearing into his left arm, slicing deeply across the outside of his bicep. Alexander drove the point of Mindbender into the man’s right eye socket and out the back of his skull. A tremor ran through the man as the darkness released him and he slumped to the ground, dead.

  Alexander raced to Isabel, ignoring the sharp pain of his fresh wound. She was just regaining consciousness when he reached her side. She looked up at him and tried to smile through a wince of pain.

  “Did you get him?”

  “I got him. Now lie still, that was quite a fall. Does anything feel broken?”

  She frowned, taking a mental inventory of her injuries before shaking her head. “No, just banged up and bruised.” Then she noticed the blood coating his left arm.

  “You’re bleeding—let me heal you,” she said as she sat up with a grimace.

  “I’ll be fine,” Alexander said, “nothing a little healing salve won’t fix.”

  “Nonsense,” she said as she gently put her hand over his wound and opened her connection to the realm of light. She focused on her love for him and released the healing energy of the Maker’s light into his wound.

  Nothing happened.

  Isabel frowned, shaking her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. It worked on Abigail and Anatoly.”

  Alexander looked at his wound and the sight staggered him for a moment. He felt his breath catch and a thrill of fear course through him.

  There was a taint of darkness in the gash on his arm. He looked quickly at the long dagger on the ground near the corpse of the man mixed with darkness and saw in a glance what he feared. The enemy had used dark magic to enchant the blade.

  Rangers had gathered all around them, providing a cordon of security. The quick-thinking perimeter commander deliberately cleared his throat, drawing Alexander’s attention.

  “Lord Reishi, I’m Lieutenant Doyle,” he said. “Can we expect more enemy or was this the only one?”

  “This should be the last of them. Have your men stand down and send word to the camp physician to expect wounded.”

  “Very good, My Lord,” Lieutenant Doyle said with a crisp salute.

  “Lieutenant, I need a bandage,” Isabel said before he could attend to his duties. He nodded and gestured to another Ranger who produced a field dressing from his pouch and handed it to Isabel. She went to work cleaning and wrapping Alexander’s wound.

  ***

  Alexander stood in the gloom of late evening, watching eleven funeral pyres burn as he struggled to keep his attention away from the throbbing pain in his left arm. He’d applied a generous scoop of healing salve, but it seemed to have no more effect than Isabel’s healing light.

  Eleven more people had died for his cause. Ten Rangers and Mage Landi—eleven more families torn asunder.

  He pulled Isabel closer.

  Mage Gamaliel and the Rangers had carefully transported Jataan back to the Ranger encampment. Boaberous reported that he’d given the battle mage the healing draught but it had no effect. The camp physician had worked on him for over an hour, cleaning and disinfecting the wound and then bandaging it.

  His report to Alexander wasn’t optimistic. The injury was deep and the damage was great. He gave Jataan P’Tal even odds of surviving unless some form of magic could be found that would aid in the healing process.

  Boaberous had stoically stepped into the position of Alexander’s protector, shadowing him without request or permission, but Alexander knew that as big and formidable as Boaberous Grudge was, he wasn’t equal to the battle mage.

  Jataan’s injury had shaken Alexander—not just for the hopefully temporary loss of his protector, but because it had happened at all. He had come to believe that no mortal swordsman was a match for Commander P’Tal. Alexander’s experiences fighting beside the battle mage had only served to confirm that belief.

  But thi
s enemy was different—they were created to take those closest to Alexander, and they had succeeded in besting two mages in battle. One dead, the other gravely injured. But they hadn’t succeeded against the Guild Mage.

  He’d knocked one of the three men mixed with darkness unconscious, revealing their weakness, and he’d put a magical collar around his neck that confined the darkness within. The prisoner was locked in a cage, awaiting transport to Blackstone Keep.

  The funeral fires burned down. Alexander looked at Isabel. He’d come close to losing her today. The thought still made his soul quail. He needed her more than he needed air.

  “We should go have a chat with our prisoner,” Alexander said.

  She nodded.

  Kelvin frowned. “I believe you should have adequate security present. The magic within these men is beyond my understanding and the collar I put on the prisoner may not prevent him from transporting himself outside of the cage.

  “When you sent word of the shades,” Kelvin continued, “I conceived of the collar and designed it to act much as a magic circle does—preventing darkness confined within from escaping. My hope was to be able to imprison a shade within a single victim. I never envisioned a creature such as this. However, the prisoner doesn’t seem to be able to wield the magic he used so effectively during the attack.”

  “You think he’s just waiting for the right time to strike?” Jack asked.

  “Perhaps,” Kelvin said. “Mostly, I’m proceeding with an abundance of caution.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Alexander said. “Give me a minute, I have something I need to do before we go have our chat.”

  He went to Lieutenant Wyatt and invited him to walk with him. Once they’d strolled out of earshot of the other mourners, they stopped and watched the fading light of the funeral pyres in silence for a moment.

  “You and your men have paid a heavy price for volunteering to accompany me,” Alexander said quietly.

  Wyatt nodded somberly and fell silent. He was struggling with fresh grief. Alexander gave him the time he needed to find his voice.

  “For myself, I’m proud of our service to you and your cause,” Wyatt finally said. “I believe my men are, as well.”

  “I have no doubt of that, but you’ve borne more of this burden than most. I know it’s a small consideration but I’d like to offer you and your men any posting you want: Glen Morillian, Southport, Blackstone Keep, wherever you’d like.”

  “That isn’t necessary, Lord Reishi,” Wyatt said. “We all understand, better than most, what we’re fighting for. For myself, I want to be on the leading edge of this war and that means standing right next to you, come what may.”

  Alexander smiled sadly and nodded. “Well, think about it, talk it over with your men. The offer stands for each of them. Let me know what you decide.”

  “Thank you, I will,” Wyatt said.

  Alexander clapped him on the shoulder and left him to grieve the loss of his men. He walked with Isabel and Mage Gamaliel to the tent where the prisoner was being held. Jack and Boaberous trailed along behind.

  Anatoly was heading toward Blackstone Keep with Lucky. His injury during the battle with the scourgling wasn’t life-threatening because of Isabel’s healing light, but he still needed time to recuperate. Abigail had flown with Mistress Constance and a wing of Sky Knights to the aerie in Blackstone Keep to help them get settled in. Isabel’s wyvern, Asteroth, had gone with her. The rest of the Sky Knights had returned to the fortress island to apprise the triumvirs of the battle.

  Before Alexander entered the tent where the prisoner was being kept, he drew Mindbender and shifted his mindset. This interrogation was a battle that he had to win. Information was power and he needed to find out everything he could about the new threat Phane had sent against him. He felt the weight of the sword in his hand and the familiar calm of battle settled over him. He stepped into the tent and locked eyes with his opponent. He was in a fight and he had a sword in his hand. Everything else faded away.

  Alexander reached out with Mindbender and listened to the thoughts of the man mixed with darkness. He heard the prisoner think of where he wanted to appear. He flickered in place for just an instant, wisps of darkness surrounded him briefly, but nothing happened. The collar he wore flared with the colors of active magic.

  Alexander smiled, “Looks like your collar is working, Kelvin. He just tried to blink behind me but couldn’t.”

  The Guild Mage nodded with satisfaction.

  Alexander stepped closer, but not too close. “What are you?”

  The man smiled with malice. “I am wraithkin. Master made me more than I ever was when I was just a man.” His voice was raspy and ever-so-slightly unhuman.

  “I take it Phane is your master.”

  “Prince Phane is everybody’s master, even yours, usurper.”

  “That remains to be determined,” Alexander said. “How many wraithkin did Phane make?”

  He shrugged. “There were almost a hundred of my brethren when we were dispatched to kill everyone that you love.”

  The wraithkin smiled as his statement settled into Alexander. He felt a little chill race up his spine.

  “How many of your kind are on Ruatha?” he asked.

  The wraithkin smiled but said nothing.

  Alexander stared at him, waiting for an answer. “One way or another I’ll get an answer to my question.”

  The wraithkin shrugged again. “I doubt it. I will answer many questions but none that will help you.”

  “Perhaps another line of questioning is in order,” Jack suggested, “if I may?”

  Alexander nodded.

  “How were you made?” Jack asked.

  Kelvin leaned in with greater interest.

  “I was once just a man,” the wraithkin said, “but then Master asked for volunteers to become much more than we once were. He called forth a creature from the netherworld and blended it into my being.” He shuddered with pleasure. “You have no idea the power Master gave me.”

  “Not enough to get you out of that cage,” Isabel said.

  “Not enough to get the job done, either,” Alexander said. “We killed the other two.”

  The wraithkin shrugged. “We took several of those who serve you. One by one we will take everyone you care for. You will know the pain of loss so completely that when we come for you, you will welcome the touch of our blades.”

  “Doubtful,” Alexander said. “I am curious about those daggers of yours, though.”

  The wraithkin smiled knowingly as he looked at the bandage on Alexander’s arm. “Your wound will heal slowly and magic will do nothing to speed the process. Does it hurt?”

  Alexander snorted and shook his head. His worry for Jataan increased. With magic to aid in healing, he would be back on his feet in a week, but without it, he might never recover.

  “I’ll ask my question again,” Alexander said. “How many of your kind are on Ruatha?”

  The wraithkin drew himself up and smiled at Alexander silently.

  “Maybe I can persuade him,” Isabel said. She opened her connection to the realm of light and let the Maker’s light pour into her, then began casting a spell. Pure white light arced forth from her hand and hit the wraithkin in the chest. He shrieked with such horror and agony that Alexander felt a little thrill of fear race through him from the sound of it alone. He hadn’t heard anything like it since he’d faced the revenants on Grafton Island.

  The wraithkin collapsed to the ground and writhed around in abject torment for several minutes before he regained enough of his senses to stand up. He looked slightly afraid when he faced them again.

  “How many?” Alexander said.

  The wraithkin started trembling but said nothing.

  Isabel smiled humorlessly. “I can cast that spell again and again. And I have to tell you I really wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night torturing you. You killed several good people today, some were my friends. Answer the question.�
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  He held his tongue until Isabel started whispering the words of her Maker’s light spell again.

  “Nine,” the wraithkin said. “Master sent nine of us aboard the fleet from Andalia. I don’t know how many made it to shore after our ships were sunk. I found the other two and we came here to find you.”

  His colors, although tainted by the darkness within, revealed that he was telling the truth.

  Chapter 3

  They retired to a command tent to discuss what they’d learned.

  “At least we know what Phane’s been up to,” Alexander said. He was tired of being on the defensive. Since Phane had awoken, Alexander felt like he’d been back on his heels trying desperately to stay one step ahead of an untimely death. He wanted to find a way to strike back.

  “Indeed,” Mage Gamaliel said. “These wraithkin are a significant threat. Loose in an encampment or a city, they could kill countless people before they could be brought down. Fortunately, they’re vulnerable when struck in the head. We should send word of this weakness to all of our forces.”

  Alexander nodded. “I’ll have the Rangers send riders north to the main army and south to General Talia and Kevin. When you get a chance, I’d like you to take a look at the daggers they carried, see if there’s any way to magically heal a wound caused by one.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m worried about Jataan. He was hurt pretty badly. Without magic, it will take him months to heal.”

  “I’ve collected the blades and will study them briefly this evening but I suspect I’ll need the equipment in my workshop to make a full assessment.” Mage Gamaliel shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such an enchantment. If I’m able to determine how they function, I may be able to construct a counter to the magical taint they leave in a wound.”

  “If we assume the worst case, there are still six wraithkin wandering around Ruatha,” Isabel said. “Maybe we should consider sending out teams of hunters to find them.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Alexander said, nodding. “My father tells me they’ve been training a company of soldiers for special operations. They might be ideally suited to the task.”