Dra’kor screamed, “Sheila! By the god’s, no —!”
The beast rushed to where she laid listless and raised both claws for a deathblow, extending its talons to full.
“Not this time you foul demon,” Dra’kor screamed casting his strongest spell. He spun his arms to add speed to the spell, and let it loose into the back of the beast.
The giant ball of energy hit the beast in the center of its back and exploded, crackling over the demon’s body making the demon rear and convulse, but causing no real damage. But, it bought him time.
Dra’kor saw a large boulder, summoned the magic, and flung the heavy stone at the beast’s back using everything he could muster.
He took great satisfaction from hearing the beast’s spine crack as the boulder hit, staggering the beast as it exploded and sent shards of the beast’s own bones deep into its back. The beast threw back its head and howled in agony struggling to reach and pull the bone shards from its back.
Dra’kor had hoped to buy himself some time and sighed with relief as the demon froze for a second before refocusing on the prize in front of it. Again, the abomination dropped to its knees and opened its large maw, it fell on top of Sheila to sink eager fangs into the soft of her neck.
Sheila was still groggy and saw the beast coming in for the kill. Her hands shot up and she grabbed either side of the beast’s jaw and wrestled it to the side.
“Help!” she shouted as she twisted her face away.
The beast’s teeth were sharp and they dug into Sheila’s hands, cutting flesh and tendon. Still she held on. The smell of the beast from this distance made her wretch and she could feel bile rising in her throat. She ground her teeth as she strained against the stronger foe.
By that time, Dra’kor had managed to reach the clearing, rushing in sword held high. He used both hands to plunge his broad sword deep into the beast’s side, driving it halfway to the hilt before yanking it back and forth to scramble the beast’s guts.
The beast swiped at him, and Dra’kor had to jump sideways to avoid the razor sharp claws.
“Why won’t you die?” he grunted, clearly surprised at the beast’s resiliency. He looked down and saw fear in Sheila’s eyes.
“Can’t … hold … on much longer,” she grunted out, as she tried to avoid the dripping gore from the beast’s maw falling into her face. The beast had one front claw sunk deep into her chest and its talons were digging into the softness of her breasts —
Her hands were bleeding freely now and the blood made it even more difficult for her to keep the demon’s teeth at bay.
Dra’kor threw his foot to the demon’s side and pulled with all his might, yanking the sword free. The beast barely acknowledged his presence. He reeled backwards a couple steps as the blade broke free, making an unsettling suction sound as it slid from the beast’s flesh.
“Arrgh,” Dra’kor screamed as he pitched himself upright and with all his might, swung his sword completely around in a full circle. It cleaved the beast’s neck, narrowly missing Sheila’s hands, as she let loose her right hand at the last instant. She grinned, as she hoisted the beast’s head high with only her bloody left hand.
The beast’s body thrashed, quivered and went limp.
Dra’kor saw the surprised look in the demon’s black eyes as the beast still tried to sink its fangs into Sheila’s neck, making a gurgling sound, its tongue whipping back and forth.
Dra’kor raised his blood-soaked sword and using both hands hacked down on the boney spine that connected the head to the body. His arms jarred from the impact as he heard the blade crack the dense bone separating the head. He drove the blade down again and again.
“Get it off …” Sheila growled as the beast’s blood oozed out and covered her arms and chest. “It burns! Curse the gods it burns!”
Sheila rolled to the side and tossed the head to the dirt. She sat upright and took a deep agonizing breath, pulling air in past her bruised ribs. Her hands were lacerated from the teeth of the beast and her fine leathers were covered in blood and were smoldering. She trembled and quivered as she ripped off her top exposing her ample breasts. Dra’kor’s jaw dropped open.
“A-a-a little help here,” Sheila requested as she opened her goatskin water bag and poured the cool liquid over her arms and breasts, rubbing fiercely to remove the gore.
“H-h-huh?” Dra’kor stuttered as he stood there jaw agape, sword dangling.
“Quick! Before the acid burns me even worse,” she sputtered back.
She gasped as the gore found its way into her open wounds igniting every fiber of her being. She fought hard to remain conscious, staggering a couple steps to the side as she lost her balance. The puncture wounds in her chest burned like the Fire of Alzaer, the smoking and burning rocks to the north!
Dra’kor stood there unable to move as he watched her blood mix with the ooze and icy cold water. He eventually managed to kneel down.
“What do you need me to do?”
“H-h-help me wash off … g-g-get this vile stuff off,” she sighed stuttering. Dra’kor was white-faced and practically paralyzed with concern. “Move it —!” she growled.
Dra’kor gently started wiping her off with his hands as she dribbled the water over her skin. Each time she groaned, he pulled his hands away afraid that he was hurting her.
“I’m not going to break,” Sheila said, wincing from the acid eating into her skin.
Dra’kor’s voice quivered, “Your skin is so red and raw.”
“You can rub a little harder; it’ll help it from getting worse.”
Dra’kor was having a very hard time focusing his attention. Her warm soft skin was leading his mind to places it shouldn’t be going, but he found he was unable to focus elsewhere.
Sheila felt him rub up against her and noticed that he was getting rather … excited. She smiled to herself and arched her back to meet his touch. She felt his hand tremble. She gently put her hand on his and pulled it away.
“I think you got it all off,” she said. “Can you heal me please?”
Dra’kor lowered his eyes, “Uh, sorry … sure.” He cast his spell and she groaned as the spell took effect. She felt the puncture wounds in her chest seal over. Her hands quaked and throbbed as the magic took effect. It was different from when her mother healed her. She couldn’t see the magic or feel its source. It just worked. It was more than a bit unnerving.
“I was just …,” he babbled.
“Bet you were! Mind if I borrow your shirt?”
“What? Oh, sure,” Dra’kor said, as he stripped off his cloak and began to untie his field shirt.
He handed it to Sheila who met him with a big wet kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. He felt her smooth skin against his chest and her hands grab his hair, pulling his head tight to hers. He returned her kiss strongly.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said as she looked into his eyes. “I thought I was a goner.”
“You’re welcome,” Dra’kor sputtered as she pulled away and grabbed his shirt. She deftly slipped it on and began to tie it up the front. It was too big and draped over her awkwardly, falling off her shoulders.
Sheila walked over to the creature’s head and kicked it over.
Dra’kor stooped on his haunches and stared down at the beast. “What the hell is it?”
It had oversized almond-shaped eyes, black as the night set deep in an elongated skull. The tattered wedge-shaped ears were thick, pointed and laid back. There were three rows of teeth, but only the fronts were long enough to do real damage. The skull was rough and lumpy and wrapped with a gray-green skin that was smeared with a slick ooze that burnt when touched. Its back was covered with spines and had bone armor along the spine. The feet were bulky and had three forward-facing claws and two that faced to the rear. Skin, if you could call it that, was course and scaled and it hid a very muscular frame comprised of largely deformed, oversized bones. The entire demon probably weighed twenty stone, although that was just a gue
ss on Dra’kor’s part.
“I’m not sure, but I think it could be a skree,” Sheila scowled as she turned the head over again with her foot.
Dra’kor asked looking quickly from the dead demon to Sheila and back. “A skree? I don’t recognize that from my studies, is that bad?”
“It’s very bad,” Sheila grumbled. “Anything from the lower planes means serious trouble.”
“Lower planes? How low are you talking about?”
“If it’s a skree, we’re talking second or third …”
“And that’s trouble?”
“Didn’t they ever teach you anything in that Keep of yours? You had a thousand years to learn something, what did you waste your time doing if not learning your craft?”
“Well, I …” Dra’kor stammered. “I guess I should have paid attention, but it seemed a waste of time considering we never left the Keep!”
“Well, it means big trouble,” Sheila nodded.
Dra’kor stood up, “How so?”
Sheila’s voice quivered, “Well, for one thing, the lower-plane critters cannot get to this world without the help of magic, and that magic has to be powerful and comes from a very dark place.”
Dra’kor furrowed his brow at her reaction, “So you’re thinking it’s a dark mage?”
“Dark mage? Are you crazy?” Sheila gasped. “You know there aren’t any dark mages anymore, more likely a demon lord …”
“How can you be so sure?” Dra’kor countered with a tremor in his voice.
Sheila looked at him as if he were daft, “They were all killed during the last battle of Ror. They were all accounted for.”
“So we assume,” Dra’kor grunted and spit on the ground. “Given what I’ve seen the last few days, I’m not too sure about anything anymore. All it takes is one …”
Sheila shrugged, knowing he was right.
“If it wasn’t a dark mage, what else could it be?”
“I don’t know, maybe it was called by some other race. Others have magic too!”
“Like what?”
“Giants, maybe Orcs, demons or Gobbons.” she said as she grabbed her smoldering shirt by a corner and shook it out flat. She crinkled her nose as she used a dead stick to put the skree’s head in the center. She jabbed the stick into the soft tissue of its brain through its neck and using both hands took care to not get any of the blood on her hands.
Satisfied, she tied the bundle closed and anchored it to the end of Dra’kor’s spear.
“Gobbons?” Dra’kor frowned as she handed him the spear. “I’m not familiar with that race … either!”
“They’re a bastard race of goblins. We aren’t sure what the other race was. We think it was demons, so we call them Gobbons.”
Dra’kor nodded as he set the spear to one side and wiped his still-dripping blade clean on the demon’s back.
“You better use leaves and dirt to clean that well —”
Dra’kor sighed and did as she requested, “Ever seen one?”
“— one what?”
“Gobbon —”
“Oh,” said Sheila, remembering their conversation. “Seen many. They each seem a little different, like some strange creature abomination. The browns are the worst. They’re greedy, wily, ugly and deviously crafty. They got big-ass ears. They seem to relish causing trouble.”
Sheila searched around the edge of the clearing until she found what she was after. She pulled some three-lobed leaves off of a short plant that had purple berries in clusters. She wadded them up and pulled up her shirt, rubbing the oily secretion on her skin. She sighed in relief as the soothing balm did its work.
Dra’kor tipped his head as he watched her. “What’s that?”
“Witch’s Wart. The sap of the plant helps ease the pain of the burns and makes the swelling go down.”
Dra’kor nodded, “Funny name for a healing herb …”
“If you boil it, and put it into a potion, it’ll cause warts,” said Sheila sarcastically, before she snorted.
Dra’kor rolled his eyes.
She smirked, “Remember, you asked!”
Dra’kor snickered, “Back to the Gobbons. Tell me more —”
“They’re evil little troublemakers, always mucking with things. They make a lot of contraptions,” Sheila said, as she finished tying the bundle. “They have huge deformed hands; I remember their hands … mostly.”
Dra’kor raised his brow. “They dangerous?”
Sheila shook her head, “Didn’t think so, but we don’t know much about them. The old Goblins weren’t. These? Who knows …”
“Hard to imagine such little guys causing much more than an annoyance.”
Sheila shrugged, “They’re bigger now. Saw one last year that was almost the size of an elf.”
Dra’kor shivered and rubbed his chest and arms, “Really? Is that big?” Dra’kor’s body temperature was dropping now that the sweat was evaporating and he was getting cold. He had goose flesh on his arms and his teeth were beginning to chatter.
“That’s huge. They used to be little pint-sized creatures. Barely as high as a stool back.”
Sheila wadded up the leaves and wiped down her arms and chest one last time, letting the calming oils soothe her raw and burnt skin.
Dra’kor looked around for where he had set his cloak. “That doesn’t sound menacing to me. When did you first see them?”
“A couple decades ago Mom and I ran into a pack of them when we moved out of the mountains. They were willing to trade and we needed some things. We had to leave in a hurry,” she said grinning. “Funny, they wouldn’t trade for anything but gold!”
Dra’kor spotted his cloak, “What? That seems odd.”
“Yeah, I thought it was strange too. We tried to trade some gems we had for some pots and a sword, but they turned us down.”
Dra’kor frowned, “Turned down gems? Know anything else about them?”
“Not much. I tracked them a few times, they seems to keep to themselves. They do seem to breed like rabbits!”
Dra’kor threw the cloak over his shoulders, “Smart?”
Sheila shrugged, “Don’t know, but they ain’t much good at fighting, least as far as I know. They fight in this rage, just slashing and stabbing, screaming and growling at the top of their lungs.”
Sheila snickered, and burst into laughter, “It’s actually a bit comical to watch, even if it’s you they’re attacking. There’s not much organization to them, they’re kind of like bees around a honey-pot. Did I mention that they prefer to live underground?”
“No, you didn’t. You mean in caves?” Dra’kor bent over and tied his boot which had become undone in the rumble.
“Can’t say for sure, but the dwarves swear they can dig like there’s no tomorrow — they’ll go places no dwarf will dig!”
Dra’kor asked, as he stood fully straight and wrapped the cloak tighter. He wove a little spell to warm himself, just enough to take off the chill. “Interesting. What now?”
“A little heat for me?” Sheila asked bluntly.
“You could feel the spell?”
“No, I saw the steam coming off your cloak, but others might sense it!” she scolded him.
“Sorry. I was very cold. You walk around without a shirt on for a while.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” she said with an indignant nod.
Dra’kor grunted and grinned like a fiend, “Absolutely!”
“That’s what I thought,” said Sheila sardonically.
“I know what I like …,” Dra’kor muttered under his breath as he adjusted his cloak.
“What —?”
“Nothing, just grumbling to myself ….”
Sheila had of course heard his comment and smiled to herself. “We should show this to mother. She’ll know what it is for sure.”
Dra’kor nodded. As Sheila picked up the bundle using the tip of her spear, the metal tip sizzled as the acid took effect. “Hope this holds until we get home.”
Dra’kor looked at the smoldering bundle. The leather was turning dark brown and scorched as the acidic smell filled the air, burning his nose hairs.
“Make sure you wipe that sword clean before you put it away. This thing’s blood burns like fire.”
“Already took care of it,” Dra’kor shivered and pulled his cloak tight. He rubbed his hands and stomped his feet to get his circulation going. It was still early spring and without direct sunlight, cold. He wondered what they should do with the body. “Should we burn it or something?”
“Bury it. I doubt it would burn …,” Sheila demanded testily. “Being from the lower planes … that’s all I’m saying.”
“Catomen burn! I can at least try,” Dra’kor suggested.
Sheila waved him on with her hand. He wasn’t going to listen to her, so she might as well let him broadcast that a mage was here when he tried to burn the damn demon.
“Men. You’re all daft!” she spat.
Dra’kor drew up as much magic as he could hold and sent a ball of wizard’s fire into the beast. It hit, spattered and crackled, but when all was said and done, the body remained much the same as it was before.
“That’s what I thought,” said Sheila smugly, “now every magic user for leagues knows we’re here. You aren’t too bright —”
“Didn’t hurt to try …” a chided Dra’kor said, resigning himself to the limitations of his rogue magic.
“You miss the point!”
“Wha —?”
“You just let every magic-using creature in ten leagues know that a mage is around. Nice work.”
Dra’kor looked up befuddled.
Sheila gave the dead creature a good kick. “Probably need to use old magic or something from the dark arts to affect these things …,” Sheila said, as her voice trailed off.
“Probably!” Dra’kor agreed. “Do you have enough use of the ancient magic to do it?”
Sheila looked up from the beast, “No, not even close.”
Dra’kor looked at her a bit surprised, “No?”
Sheila was visibly agitated, “I’m not really a war wizard. That’s just what mom calls me. My magic is exceedingly weak by war wizard standards, it’s elven magic. I use it to do small stuff like make my sword faster, or soften a blow. That’s about all … really!”
The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep Page 52
