Shadows

by Michael Duncan

  He spurred his horse to a slow walk, desperate not to disturb the other animals, and slipped into the woods. Morryn rode west in a direct line away from the camp. As time passed, and he realized that no one followed, he turned and rode south. Branches reached for him in the dark like gnarled fingers, as if they tried to thwart his purpose. The darkness intensified as he ventured deeper into the forest, but he continued. The moon had long settled beyond the horizon and Morryn knew that dawn neared.

  He rode with haste, as swift as the grasping trees allowed, and put as much distance between himself and his men as possible. Erratic as he swerved and weaved his way through the trees, Morryn continued south. In the east, a faint glimmer of light crested the horizon as sunrise neared.

  Then a sudden dread fell upon him, the same fear that had gripped him in the cavern. He looked around with growing fear and knew he was being watched. He sensed it, eyes that glared at him from the darkness. Morryn spurred his horse to try and move faster, to outrun the unseen hunter.

  Then he heard a sound that chilled his blood. Carried on the cold air, far behind him. The faint sounds of battle rang through the forest. The clash of swords and screams of agony resonated through the sparse trees and mingled with the distinctive howls of trolls. Morryn stopped. He wanted to return to his men in a valiant attempt to save them. He turned his stallion around and listened. With his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he shook his head, and left his men to their fate.

  ****

  Lorik rode through the night. With the keen eye of a veteran soldier, he pressed on. The rugged terrain gave no quarter for carelessness, but Lorik navigated the path with skill. The moon, hidden behind a thin layer of clouds, peeked out to shine upon the earth for brief, unexpected moments. He was tired and his horse showed increased signs of weariness as she hung her head and continued with slow, laborious steps along the stone path. He knew he and his mount needed rest if they were to make their way back to the base camp.

  After several miles along the path, he had to dismount. He found a small alcove of rock, a formation just large enough for him and his horse, and settled in to wait out the night. Some wood remained on the mare’s pack, enough for Lorik to build a small fire and fight off the chill night air. It wasn’t much, but it provided sufficient warmth for Lorik and his mount, and in the little alcove, his fire was small enough so that even from the main path it was hidden.

  He found some dried beef and bread wafers in the saddlebag and ate a solitary meal. The night passed as Lorik dozed on and off in fits of sleep, miserable in the cramped stone alcove. His horse lay beside him, close to the fire as if it tried to capture as much of the warmth the small blaze provided.

  Lorik woke with a start, and found his small fire spent to ashes. Darkness surrounded him, and the air felt thick with cold and heavy with moisture. His bones ached and body shivered as he stood to stretch. He was still several hours from the base camp where he hoped to reunite with his men. He needed to get moving as a sliver of dawn broke over the eastern horizon.

  In the dim, pale light of the early morning sun Lorik checked his mount for any injury. He didn’t have the time or inclination the night before, but was glad to see that the horse showed no wounds of any kind. He strapped on the saddlebag, checked to make sure all was secure, threw snow on the fire to douse the last embers, and mounted the steed. He took to the path and navigated his horse through the rocky canyon, careful to stay true to the trail that had led them into the hills.

  The night’s events still played on his mind as he thought about the battle. Why did Lieutenant Morryn panic like that? What brought the trolls? What was that scream? He had no answers. The sun crested the horizon and illuminated the fractured terrain.

  Lorik took a moment to investigate his surroundings and noticed the clear evidence of a horse’s hoof prints in the snow. He dismounted and examined the tracks. From the space between footfalls, Lorik knew that someone had driven the animal in a mad dash along the narrow path back toward the western border of the Shattered Hills. There was no doubt in Lorik’s mind that the rider was Morryn. He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the obvious tracks of trolls moving westward, out of the Shattered Hills.

  Lorik mounted his horse and took flight, desperate to prevent a disaster at the base camp. He had to reach the men and try to avert another tragedy.

  Lorik pressed his horse as fast as he dared even as the chill air bit his extremities and froze every breath into a heavy vapor. He crested a small hill and looked out upon the entire valley before him. From his vantage point, Lorik saw the edge of the piney forest. The trees stood tall and reflected the morning sun with their white, snowy coat. In a clearing on the edge of the forest, he recognized the camp; tents were formed in a circle and wisps of smoke rose into the air from the center. However, he saw no movement and Lorik’s desperation rose like gall in his throat.

  Had it been abandoned? He wondered. “Well, there’s just one way to find out,” he said as he stroked the neck of his horse. “Let’s get down there.” He started down the hill, and small rocks tumbled as his horse dislodged them from the pathway. When he arrived at the camp the sun neared mid-day, but still he saw no signs of activity.

  On the edge of the camp, just behind his own tent, Lorik dismounted and secured his horse to one of the tent’s ropes. He quietly drew his sword from its scabbard. His heart pounded in his ears as he prepared his mind for conflict. He was cautious as he peered around the tent to ascertain the situation. No guards, no lieutenant, no troops, only an eerie quiet that worked to amplify the sound of his own heartbeat. However, the inner circle of the tents was obscured from his view, so Lorik slipped between two tents and ventured toward the center of camp. He took a deep breath and stepped out between the tents, slow and guarded.

  Lorik’s eyes widened in horror and grief as at every turn soldiers lay dead. The fire, trampled and dislodged from the center of the camp, left charred embers scattered throughout the grounds. Once a brilliant white blanket that covered the earth, snow now mingled with ash and blood to form a putrid slush. Even the horses were slaughtered; their carcasses stripped of flesh and left to the bitter cold. A dozen trolls also lay among the dead, their bodies slashed and punctured with wounds from the soldiers’ swords. Lorik fell to his knees. He was a veteran of many battles, but this was more than he expected.

  His heart sank, and he dropped his sword to the ground. Anger and sorrow flared up in his mind, anger at Morryn for leading the men to such a bitter end and anger at himself for his failure to prevent the foolhardiness of the lieutenant. As he gazed upon the death that surrounded him, he knew that his duty was clear: find Morryn! But first he needed to check the bodies, count the dead, and find any who might be left alive. Lorik mustered his will, stood again on his feet, and retrieved his sword from the ground. With stoic determination, the sergeant searched each tent but held little hope of finding survivors.

  When Lorik finished his sweep of the tents and campsite only one man was missing—Morryn. Where was the lieutenant? No body, no horse, where did he go? The lieutenant is mixed up in all of this… I need to find out why! He investigated the surrounding landscape. The ground was covered with tracks: large bare feet—those must be the trolls, smaller booted feet—those were the soldiers. Lorik widened his examination of the terrain, like a bloodhound desperate to find the trail of his prey.

  He ventured into the sparse forest about twenty yards in an effort to discover the direction Morryn had fled. It wasn’t long before he found what he needed, the distinctive print of a shod horse moving with speed through the woods. The prints led southwest away from the camp. The trail was clear, and Lorik needed to follow it. In his heart he mourned for his fallen companions, but he resolved to find the truth and bring justice on the one who did this.

  ****

  The night scattered as dawn forced its light upon the world. Morryn looked to his left and watched as the sky ignited in flame when the sun crested the horizon. The world w
as flooded with shades of red mingled with pale blue as the golden orb burned in the sky. He sighed, his thoughts mingled with relief and apprehension at the sight, and continued on his journey. The quiet whispers of the forest were now his only companions. Either he had traveled beyond the reach of the sounds of battle or the battle was over, but now the silence echoed in his heart. He was alone and told himself that if he was successful in wresting power from the emperor then their sacrifice was worth it.

  The sun shone full and bright above the horizon, delivering its warm, yellow glow over the terrain. The snow, covered by a thin layer of ice, glittered like broken bits of glass and crunched with each step. Morryn felt weighted with exhaustion, tired and sore from the extended ride. A quiet glade came into view, no more than twenty yards ahead. He decided to take the time to rest, care for his steed, and examine his treasures. A massive evergreen served as a fragrant escape from the snow, like an island of pine needles in an ocean of white. He tied his horse to a branch and settled down to enjoy a quick bite of dried beef and cheese. From his satchel, he retrieved the book and the small box.

  The lid of the small, jeweled container was secured by a gold clasp. No lock, no security device of any kind protected the contents within. He looked over the box and pondered the possibility that some magical trap waited for him to open it. Cautiously Morryn unlatched the lid. He peered inside—the box was empty! All his work, all his plans, the death of all his men, and all he obtained was an empty box! He glared into the jeweled case, incredulous as he continued to think about what happened.

  As his anger burned, he delighted even more he had killed the wizards. Power indeed, he thought to himself. The power of an empty box! He took the box and threw it like a stone into the field. The choices he made now rested in his heart like the weight of an anvil. All that he sacrificed for the promise of power filtered like sand through his fingers. Now there was nothing… no power, no glory, no conquest!

  Unless...this book has some power to it. He gripped the leather-bound tome and wondered what magic might reside in its pages, magic enough to prompt the interest of wizards. He was no wizard and despised those who practiced the dark arts, but he had worked too long and lost too much to come away empty handed. The emperor desperately wanted the book returned. Perhaps, the Book of Aleth contained some hidden source of power. He held it up and examined the strange markings emblazoned on the cover. The gold symbols shone with a dim, pale glow as it reflected the sunlight, symbols that he had no means to interpret or had ever seen before. He opened the book to look upon the pages, but the words were made of such strange markings that they remained a mystery to him.

  Truly, this must be an ancient book, he thought as he examined the crisp pages. He had heard many old storytellers regale children with tales of the Elder Days, how the ancients used strange weapons and powerful magic in some Great War, power that his modern world had never known. Now, he wondered, if those myths and legends had any truth to them and if the book he possessed contained some great magic—magic enough to overthrow the emperor.

  Morryn left the shelter of the tree and walked aimlessly in the field. He tapped the cover of the book and ran his fingers along its design as he thought about who he might trust to try and interpret its words. He’d probably killed those who might have been able to translate the tome—the man in the mountain cottage and the two wizards. But, if the emperor fears this book, then perhaps I can use it to my advantage! He continued to wander through the meadow and stare at the strange writing. He flipped through the pages, and he tried to discern some way to unlock the mysteries it contained.

  The sun rose to midday, bright and warm. A shadow passed overhead. Morryn glanced up and his eyes widened as a large, winged creature descended into the meadow. It landed fifty yards from him and steam rose where the creature stood in the snow. Massive, muscular, and dark skinned with large, leathery wings that protruded from its back, it walked on two legs like a man, with huge, sinewy arms and hands that ended in strong, sharp talons. It stood nearly ten feet tall and walked with slow determination toward Morryn. Each step left a mark of melted snow. He began to tremble. It was the same creature that he saw at North Village.

  Morryn fixed his gaze upon the creature’s eyes which burned like orbs of crimson flames. The monster glared from under heavy brows with a fierce hatred that pierced his thoughts. Fear iced his blood. Step by step, the creature continued toward him, in its hand a great, double-edged sword as black as midnight, and so massive no man could have wielded it. The monster snarled as it approached.

  “You have it!” The creature growled, its voice low and powerful.

  Morryn rejected the fear that had taken him and shouted, “Leave me, foul beast!” His courage was slow to return as he unsheathed his sword. He held the book in one hand, his sword in the other, and stood in defiance of the creature. Still the beast stepped closer; its long strides closed the gap between them.

  Again the creature growled. Its thunderous voice sent waves in the air to make even the trees tremble in fear. “I have tracked you for three days, and now I will take it!” The creature raised its black sword over its head, ready to strike.

  Morryn, desperate for any escape, looked around but knew there was no place to run. He had wandered too far from his horse to try and outrun the beast; all that was left was to fight. Morryn didn’t wait for the beast to attack. He dropped the tome, took his sword in both hands and rushed toward the monster. With a shout, he engaged the daemon. His sword flashed with brilliance in the bright daylight. He slashed and thrust at the creature with the skill of an expert warrior, but the creature moved with lightning quickness. It easily dodged his sword and attacked with its mighty weapon.

  Minutes felt like an eternity to Morryn. Weariness began to tell in his movements. He was outmatched and exhausted as he tried to gain advantage over his opponent. He fought for his life. Morryn parried and deflected every strike as the creature pressed its attack.

  He redirected blow after blow, then Morryn’s sword snapped with an agonizing ring. The beast backhanded Morryn and he fell, his broken sword thrown from his grasp. The creature laughed as it loomed over him. Its resonant voice echoed across the glen.

  “Now you will die.” The creature raised its mammoth weapon over its head and brought it down in a swift, final strike.

  Shadows: Book of Aleth Part One

  6

  Forest Encounters

  Aaron awoke to the clatter of people in the common room. Dawn broke upon the land, and a bright, clear day shone through the frosted window of his small chamber. He was alone and still in his clothes. His body ached, and his head felt as if it swam in an ocean of pain. Mingled with his throbbing headache was his own confusion over the bizarre visions he’d experienced. Much of what Aaron remembered still hung in that haze between sleep and consciousness, with dream-like shadows that clung to his thoughts. The images he witnessed in his vision churned through his mind and perplexed him to distraction.

  Never before had Aaron encountered a device as the fire orb or seen such people as he saw in his vision. He recalled stories from his childhood, tales of ancient warrior races that existed before the birth of the empire. Aaron had always considered those stories to be mere myths and fables. As his head cleared, he started to wonder if the vision he saw was just some illusion, a trick of the fire mingled with exhaustion that caused his mind to drift into fantastic imaginations. Aaron stretched out the stiffness he felt in his entire body. The strain of the past few days caused him to feel as if he had endured a forced march. Despite his confusion, he did know this: he needed to get started on his journey. He sat up in his bed, placed his feet upon the cold, wood floor, and rubbed the haze of sleep from his eyes.

  Aaron moved to the window and wiped the glass to remove the frost that veiled his view of the world outside. The day shone bright, the clearest morning he had seen since he arrived in the northern reaches of Celedon. A scintillating blue sky canopied snow-covered trees which gli
stened with a display that dazzled his eyes. Aaron enjoyed the moment of serenity. Then he heaved a sigh—he needed to get about his business.

  A rattle shook the door, and Rayn entered with a startled, jovial expression. “Good morning sir,” he said, a lighthearted lilt in his voice. “I see that you’ve finally decided to wake up!”

  “Yes,” Aaron replied. He did not share the cheerful disposition of his private. “I’m up. How long have I been asleep?”

  “Well, Captain,” Rayn hesitated. “It’s been almost two days.”

  “Two days! How can that be?” His eyes widened with bewilderment. Aaron rubbed his face and felt the two days of stubble.

  “Oh, yes sir. It’s been two days. Kaylan said that you might; he said that these orbs will take a lot out of a man. Apparently, you can’t just go sticking your nose into one without paying the price. But, if you’re up to it, our host told me to have you come down for breakfast. You need to eat and regain your strength.”

  “Tell Kaylan that I’ll be down momentarily. Bring up a wash basin and a shaving knife.” Aaron again stroked the two day’s growth of stubble on his face. “Afterward, I’ll be down for breakfast. By the way, what time of day is it?”

  “It’s just past dawn, perhaps an hour,” Rayn replied.

  “Good, we’ll need to leave soon after we have both breakfasted. Have our horses ready, and make sure we’re fully supplied. We leave in an hour.” Aaron dismissed the private. Uncertainty hounded him. He needed to find Morryn, to find the Book of Aleth. The vision of the strange men still hung heavy upon his mind. He did not know if his vision was trustworthy, but had no other lead to follow. His only other option was to return to Celedon and face the anger of the emperor.