Reapers of Souls and Magic: A Rohrland Saga (The Rohrlands Saga Book 1)

by R. E. Fisher

  “He seeks the one from the prophecy,” she muttered euphorically and moaned with pleasure.

  Tetra watched as Pokmok turned his head toward her and ended the pleasure he had been giving to the spirit. He urged Tetra to come forward with a wave of his overly long fingers; she stepped into the dim illumination of red light.

  “It was a trick! You serve one of the masters!” the spirit screamed in fear upon seeing Tetra.

  Pokmok turned his attention back to the spirit, and in that moment Tetra thought she heard his question, but she was unsure.

  “I can see her there next to you! You serve her! I am nothing. Please do not involve me in the affairs of the masters! Make me feel alive again, as you just did...I’m begging you,” she whimpered.

  “Answer,” Pokmok reminded her.

  “He seeks the Sword of Jerrous…he is questioning all with ties to your realm who have knowledge of the prophecy! His anger and punishment will be great…you cannot conceive of the pain he is capable of. Do not force me to answer…”

  “Answer,” Pokmok repeated.

  The spirit, writhing in fear, fell to her knees, supplicating the mage. “I beg you, please…”

  “Name them,” Pokmok ordered.

  “Eod seeks the one who has been cast from their own realm into yours. Please…I know nothing more. Send me back,” she begged.

  Shocked, Tetra wondered why anything from the shadow realms would be searching for her, and she wanted to ask her. That brief thought was interrupted as a dark portal opened behind the spirit, causing the spirit to scream out in fear.

  Tetra saw a creature so darkly imagined that she stepped back in fright, away from the circle and into the darkness. The odor of Sulphur began filling the room. The demon’s skin was a deep black with even blacker blemishes of color scattered over its body. Its silver hair, teeth, and talons were now shaded a reddish hue from the light of Pokmok’s eyes.

  Even Pokmok took a small step backward as the demon turned its rage toward the mage.

  “Ahhh…the cursed one calls! I will take back what’s mine now, Wispstryder!”

  Carion leapt toward the spirit they had summoned and sunk his talons into her, flinging her through the black portal that he had opened and smiling his fang-filled grin. Rows of abnormally long teeth glistened a bloody red from the glow that now permeated the room as Pokmok’s eyes grew wider from his anger and fear.

  Having no idea what to do, as the mage had not prepared her for such anger and hatred, Tetra could only watch while hoping that Pokmok could handle the demon. She watched Carion turn toward her, peering into the darkness that shrouded her.

  “He is a poor teacher, Elfaheen! The Wispstryder knows better than any of this realm how the shadows hide nothing from us! Step forward so that I may know you!”

  Unarmed and unprepared, Tetra stepped forward, swallowing her fear. In the brief moments that it took her to step into the dim glow, she watched as Carion looked down at his feet, spinning in a circle. Spying the minuscule error of the missing grain of salt, Carion faced her as he completed his search. He knew that the protection the pentagram normally offered the mages did not exist because of their error.

  “We shall see if your kind rules here with as firm a hand as those in my realm!” Carion threatened as he leapt toward her.

  Having learned but one defensive spell in her training, she used it. Unable to take the time to cast it properly, she drew on magic that was already within her and simply uttered the words and gestures. Cold threads of white erupted from the fingers of her hand, threads so cold they created a haze around each of the four of them as they passed through the room toward the demon. Each of the bolts of cold struck the demon in the chest, knocking him back toward the portal that remained open.

  Tetra watched as Pokmok began casting a spell as well, but he had to draw the magic from around him, unlike her. Still, his skill and knowledge of the arcane allowed him to cast another spell before the demon could recover. Tetra watched as a sword of brilliant light, glowing with the light of the sun, formed between her and the demon. She saw that Pokmok wielded it from where he stood, as though his hand was on the blade itself. The sword emitted no heat, but she saw that it was effective enough to knock Carion to the ground.

  The door burst open and Lleward rushed into the summoning chamber, his staff at the ready. Ignoring the sudden entry, Tetra readied herself and threw another bolt of ice at the demon, striking him. This time he bellowed out in pain as he rose to his feet. She saw the demon reach over his shoulders and pull a sword from his back that appeared to be just the opposite of Pokmok’s. He used the Shaedrs blade to counter the attacks of Pokmok and his ephemeral sword. Tetra briefly wondered where the weapon had come from, as she didn’t remember seeing Carion with it upon his arrival; she shoved her curiosity aside as she prepared another blast of magical energy to attack him. She glimpsed Lleward rushing around the black portal and saw the Master of Towers level his staff and utter words that Tetra cold not hear. Her own voices within her rose as the conflict grew, deafening her to the sounds of the battle they waged and almost knocking her to her knees.

  Tetra released another series of icy bolts at Carion as Lleward’s staff erupted, also sending a blast of power toward the demon and driving it backward.

  Pokmok saw the blast; knowing his spell would soon falter, he increased his efforts and began hacking at the foul beast, trying to drive it further toward the door that would send it back to its own realm.

  Lleward stepped toward the demon, into the summoning circle. He pressed the tip of his staff closer to the powerful, otherworldly being, striking it in the chest as he did. The force of the strike was accompanied by a crushing wave of energy; it tossed the demon through the portal as easily as Carion had done to the feminine spirit only a few moments earlier.

  As soon as Carion passed through the portal, it closed behind him and the room grew still. The only noise was the heavy breathing of the Elfaheen as she fell to her knees, struggling to quiet the voices in her head, the tattoo above her breast shining brightly.

  Chapter 12

  “Suffer with gladness that which burdens thee; only then shalt thou know the peace my love brings.”

  (A.Da.2.3 - Book of Air, Tenets of Dagiel, Chapter 2, Verse 3)

  The previous nine days of travel had been eye-opening for the two pilots. Thanks to their unusual new friends, they had learned a great deal, but they realized they still had more to learn. They had discovered some of the many dangers they would face should their visit became an extended one. According to Gnack, they had been lucky not to be captured by the elves or to meet some of the local wildlife. The gnomes had explained how there were many creatures who appeared to be animals but had an equal or greater intelligence to their own, so they had better pay attention to what Dumas had to teach them, if he had room in his school.

  Laz was walking along, arguing with Gnack about how the physics of flight worked. He was unable to convince the gnome that lift and thrust worked better than a magical spell, because once flight was achieved, it could be maintained with continued thrust. The gnome looked up at him and asked, “Then how come you aren’t still flying your airplane now?”

  “Because we had an accident,” Laz tried to explain for the fourth time.

  Gnack muttered under his breath, “At least I know when my spells are going to end!”

  Looking up, Laz noticed that there were a lot of dirt roads leading toward a large white spot that cut through the middle of a rich, green valley and continued onto the shores of a vast ocean. “Is that the city?” he asked, nodding in the direction he was looking.

  “Yep,” Gnack responded.

  As they continued toward the city, the humans became lost in their own thoughts of past and present. Both were still attempting to come to grips with the absurdness of their situation; they walked the last six miles in near silence. As they came closer to the city, they saw all manner of people, most of whom looked at them with as much c
uriosity as the two pilots looked at everyone else. Most of the people dressed in what Ollie termed a gypsy peasant dress while others wore leather, and a few wore what appeared to be fine silken cloths. Still others wore armor of leather or metal. The two pilots, accompanied by the two gnomes, neared a set of gates into the city. Gnick looked at the two pilots and asked, “Are you guys ready?”

  “Sure,” both pilots responded in unison.

  “The first thing we’re going to need to do is sell some of your paper to pay for the equipment you’re going to need.”

  “Equipment. Like what?” Ollie asked.

  “Leather armor, real clothes, a weapon of some sort. Food. Horses, too, unless you want to walk everywhere. You’ll also—” Gnack began, but then was interrupted by his brother.

  “All right; let’s go,” Gnick stated.

  Gnack started to say something to his brother, but seeing the look he was receiving, he thought better of it. This time.

  Laz looked up at the walls of the city. They stood at least sixty feet high and were pure white, angling outward at the battlements. The battlements were about three feet farther out than the base of the wall; they also allowed archers to fire while under cover, Laz noted. Should an enemy manage to get a rope up that high, the individual would have to climb hand over hand—which would be a difficult task for someone to do while wearing armor. He also noticed that there were spouts extending out two or three feet spaced along the battlements. They were covered in bronze and cast to look like cherubs with their arms outstretched. He later found out from Gnick those were called the “angels of death,” as hot oil was poured through them onto attacking armies.

  He also noticed that the heavy wooden gates looked to be about three feet thick. They were intricately carved and inlaid with colored stones. As they passed through, he looked up and noticed a two-foot-thick iron band behind the gate frame. Gnick pointed out that should the city come under siege, there was a mechanism that would drop a huge iron block behind the wooden gates; it was so thick that the battering rams used in the past couldn’t break though. Seeing Laz’s interest in the architecture, Gnick went on to explain that the iron reinforcement extended several yards past the top and each side of the gate to lessen an enemy’s ability to ram it down. Laz also learned that deep within the walls were hollows filled with water. Should the wall be breached, a powder mixed with sand and water would harden immediately. They had placed the powdered mixture all around the water hollows so that attackers could not pass through any of the short-lived openings.

  Gnack added rumors of an unfortunate few who had been sealed in the walls during the last attack, which had occurred over a hundred years earlier. Some of the people who lived near those sections of wall swore you could still hear them screaming.

  The walls were at least fifteen feet thick. Laz’s thoughts went to the morbid, and he began wondering why someone would need walls so thick. What were they trying to keep out?

  They walked through the man-made tunnel and entered the city on Market Row. Ollie saw that on each side of the street were shops, booths, and colorful tents, as well as hundreds of people in the area. Most were humans, but there was all manner of creatures the pilots had only read about as children. Gnack tugged on Laz’s leg and pointed. Following the direction his small fingers pointed, Laz watched a slim figure wearing chain mail. His long, black hair was combed back and held in place with a thin circlet of metal, which came to a downward point between his high eyebrows. His almond-shaped eyes were yellow, infused with flecks of green. A large bow hung from his shoulder alongside a quiver of arrows. Laz saw that the fletches were black and green; Gnack looked up and told him, “He’s elvish nobility, of one of the wood elves’ clans. Their green-and-black arrows tell their enemies which clan they’re from.”

  A wild-looking horse stood next to the elf. It wore no bridle or tack and moved with the elf as he strolled along the booths and tents, looking at the wares available. Laz had been around a few horses during his life, but he knew of none so well-trained.

  The group walked up Market Row, taking in all the sights, and then turned onto Kings’ Row. Kings’ Row was a wide expanse of grass and gravel. It was a well-tended street of white cobblestone, worn smooth by the generations of citizens who had walked upon it. Lining the street, each looking to the main gates, stood seventy of the most beautifully crafted marble statues Ollie had ever seen. They all stood fifteen to twenty feet tall and depicted all the Deronian kings of the last seventy generations. Each of them stood handsome and youthful, with faces of wisdom and honesty. Laz noticed that they each held various items, such as swords, books, treaties, and the like. He assumed that those items reflected something about how they had ruled or lived.

  The group continued along the street until the castle of the king came into view. Laz and Ollie both stopped in their tracks; they had never seen such architecture in their lives. There was a sense of grace and strength in the lines that the structures presented. Gnick also told them that it was the sole castle in all the Rohrlands that elves, dwarves, and humans had built together. The results were magnificent. The alabaster and pink granites were melded and carved to perfection and fit so well together, one couldn’t tell when one type of stone stopped and the other began. The archways were intricate and wide, with spires rising a hundred feet or more into the bright blue sky. The sun glinted from the smooth stone, and pools of water glistened within the walls of the palace. The sun’s reflections shimmered on the stone towers, dancing and moving with the waters. The trees within the compound stood almost as high as the palace towers. The firs and pines accentuating the greens and pinks of the palace, and the bright blue sky and clouds made for a majestic sight.

  The highest of the spires was the Tower of Tears. The pink granite was laced with teardrop- shaped hues of pink and white, and they appeared to flow down the walls of the tower from just below the uppermost window. Gnick told them that just after the castle was completed, Queen Tanistla gave birth to twins, one of whom passed just after she was born. Torn with grief, the queen had locked herself in the uppermost room of the tower. She sat looking out the window day after day, watching the city move forward after the royal funeral. She held her surviving infant daughter for weeks, crying all the while. As word spread throughout the city of the queen’s sorrow, the city’s populace gathered in the streets surrounding the castle. They sang hymns to comfort their queen, and at night they lit candles, casting an orange hue onto the castle’s tower. She remained within the tiny room for six months, and there were always other mothers and fathers on the streets below, offering their comfort to her highness. Her tears of sorrow began to change into tears of love and gratitude for those citizens of Noli Deron. He also told him that only a few months before, a noble maiden had leapt from the upper window to her death in tribute to the queen’s child. Her purple-and-gold dress had stained with crimson, and she had landed with very few unbroken bones.

  Gnack shook his head and made a comical face of disbelief as Gnick finished telling them the tale of sorrow. The group walked past the palace and made their way across the expansive parade grounds. From there, they observed the movement of the soldiers and horsemen. As they moved out of the way of several platoons practicing their movements, the wall loomed larger and larger as they came closer to their destination. On the right of the parade grounds were huge barracks that garrisoned the army as well as the city guard. On the left were the businesses, which also prospered from the military. There were armorers, weapon-makers, tack shops, supply shops, and a few pubs and restaurants. They walked past those until they came to a stop in front of a shop that displayed a sign that said Magical Goods & Services.

  The gnomes looked at the two pilots and Gnick said, “This is where we’ll get the best price for your parchment.”

  Ollie reached into his pack and pulled out the tablet, handing it to him. Before Gnick could take the notepad, Gnack snatched it from him and rushed into the shop, placing the paper into his own
pouch. The two humans started to follow, and Gnick called as they did, “Don’t touch anything, please!” They walked into the shop and their senses were overwhelmed with the smell of a multitude of spices and the colorful glow of several objects.

  Cede Tecress sat in a chair reading a manuscript of some sort. She was a human, with auburn hair and green eyes. She wasn’t a striking woman, but the kind you would see on any given Saturday in a supermarket back home. She wore a lavender-colored velvet dress, which was accentuated with white trim along the hem. The gnomes walked up to her and waited without interruption until she looked up. She placed the manuscript down across her lap. She started speaking to the two gnomes in a language Laz and Ollie couldn’t initially understand, but thanks to the magic that the gnomes were still using, they were soon able to comprehend.

  “Thank you for not disturbing my studies. How may I help you?”

  “Madam, I have in my possession goods that will enrich both of our lives. I have had the joy of coming into possession of some of the finest parchment you could ever hope to find. It is of the purest white, and each sheet carries a distinctive mark for its author,” Gnack said with exaggerated grandeur.

  “My, my; for such a grand buildup, this must be special. Have you come from the elvish lands where they make the finest parchment, or perhaps you fine gentleman have crossed the Bedrin Sea, bringing back some wonderful new find from Philanthis?” she asked with a gentle smile. “If you show me your goods, perhaps I will make you an offer,” she said, expecting the gnomes to pull out some torn or used scraps, since they always tended to overexaggerate the value of their “finds.” Instead, they pulled out Ollie’s writing tablet and offered it to her. She took the precious parchment in her hands. She looked to the gnomes and then at the pilots. “Your friends brought this with them, didn’t they?”