Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2)

by Mark Tyson

  The window was out of the question; it was too far above the ground. The fall would injure or kill him. He searched the corners of the room and found a hole in one of them. He looked around the room and managed to pull one of the bedposts loose. It wasn’t long enough to use for a club, but it worked fine as an implement to widen the hole in the wall. He dug and chipped away at the hole until it was just wide enough to slip through. He stuck his head out and looked down. A ledge several feet wide jutted out halfway between him and the next roof level of the building. He squeezed through and dropped to the wide ledge; it broke loose on the end, and Rennon scrambled to remain on the solid edge. He rested for a moment. A moment of regret made him hesitate. He realized he was about to leave Deylia in the clutches of Theosus Fiderea. It is better this way, he thought. Fiderea would not hurt her or use her if Rennon was out of the picture. If he stayed to rescue her, Fiderea would surely put her in harm’s way to manipulate him. She will be all right, he told himself.

  Rennon dropped down to the next roof and ran for an open doorway. He entered a long corridor with a light at the end. Freedom at last, he thought. Once he left the corridor, he entered an enormous room that appeared to have once been a temple of Loracia. Among the broken stone benches and ruined alter, several people writhed on the floor moaning—women, children, and men. They tore at their clothes, and occasionally, one would stand, run to the open double doors of the temple, and discharge lightning from their bodies at the storm in the distance, uncontrollably, like someone convulsing from vomiting, and then they would collapse, moaning in pain. Rennon felt sick to his stomach. The stench of all the unwashed bodies reached his nostrils and he wanted to wretch, but he stubbornly held back.

  “This is what outlawing wielding reaps!” It was Theosus. He had found Rennon. “These souls cannot help being born with the affliction of magic buried in their minds from centuries of its use. Every one of these people would have been killed in Symboria or Trigoth.”

  “Look at them! They would be better off dead!”

  “Then why don’t you take care of that. I will give you a sword, and you can cut down the women and children first.”

  “Don’t be stupid. It isn’t my job to execute them. They need to be turned in so the Enforcers can do it.”

  Theosus approached Rennon, shaking his head and making a tsk tsk noise. “My dear boy, would you be a party to the slaying of your own kind?”

  “They are not my kind!” Rennon snapped.

  “Oh, but they are.” Theosus used his dragon magic to bring one of the children up from the mass of bodies—a young girl, barely ten seasons.

  “You are attempting to manipulate me.”

  “Aye, and I do not hide that fact. You have the ability to help her. Only you!”

  “Where is Deylia? You took her.”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “You are a monster.”

  “Some think so, especially when I take my true form.”

  “I already know you are dragonkind, so don’t bother. Deylia told me.”

  “Indeed. Well?” He let the girl fall to the floor before Rennon. She convulsed and started to cry. Rennon turned away from her.

  “I think you are the monster, sir. I have brought these people here in hopes of finding someone like you to help them. I kept them alive and fed as best I could while you turned away and condemned them to death at the hands of the Enforcers. You turn away from this innocent little girl now, you are the monster.”

  Rennon knew it was probably a manipulation, but he was not heartless. What if he could help the girl? He took a deep breath and turned to the girl crying on the ground. He grabbed her head between his hands and the girl screamed. “Shush,” he said. She immediately went quiet. He reached his mind out to hers and thought, Madness be gone. The girl snapped her head out of his hands and looked at him wide-eyed. She hesitated a moment before abruptly embracing Rennon in a hug.

  “It’s gone,” she whispered in his ear. “The pain in my head is gone.”

  Chapter 7: A Path Revealed

  Gondrial, Sanmir, Ianthill, Lady Shey, Shila, and Enowene stood at the back of the inn, awkwardly carrying the corpse of a dead Drasmyd Duil, while Dramyds and more Drasmyd Duil poised for attack. Sanmir reacted the quickest. His fine, grey, woven cloak swirled back in one fluid motion as five poisonous darts sailed through the air before Gondrial could draw his sword or Lady Shey could gather essence. The first five Dramyds crashed to the ground, clutching their eyes where Sanmir’s darts found their targets. The first Drasmyd Duil in line clawed at Gondrial, who tried to summon essence but still could not manage it. Ianthill sent a fireball cascading across the Drasmyd Duil’s face to give Gondrial time to draw his sword and remove the creature’s head. The Dramyd directly behind it tasted Gondrial’s sword as well. Enowene pushed the creatures back with a wall of essence. Lightning flashed from Shey’s fingertips, striking several of the creatures in a devastating chain of electricity.

  “Sanmir, to your left!” Ianthill warned.

  Sanmir twisted to see a Drasmyd Duil swoop down and claw at his face. He abruptly fell through the solid ground below him as if he had stepped in a deep pool of water. He immediately appeared out of the ground behind the creature and stabbed two long daggers into its neck. The Drasmyd Duil screeched in pain as he pulled out the daggers and fell to the ground. Sanmir stepped over it to launch one of his daggers into the eye socket of another creature.

  Seeing the sand elf travel through the ground inspired Gondrial and, with the trickle of essence he could manage, he ran his sword through two Dramyds at once. “You are a showoff!” he yelled to Sanmir, who smirked before lodging the second dagger into the face of another Dramyd.

  Two Dramyds landed to attack Sanmir. He knelt and touched the ground before him, and the two beasts were immediately swallowed up by the earth. Sanmir took a moment to wink triumphantly at Gondrial.

  Gondrial huffed and tried to draw essence again; he strained and let loose. A Dramyd flew inbound. He struggled to draw essence once again as he held up his sword in defense. The Dramyd extended its claws for the kill. Gondrial suppressed panic and forced himself to draw essence. It felt as if something gave way in his head, and essence flooded into him. “Aha!” he shouted as he threw his sword, backed with the release of essence. It burst into flames and cut the Dramyd directly in half, catching it on fire. The sword spun around and returned to his hand as he used his abilities to control it.

  “All right, we are all impressed,” Enowene barked. “Clear us a path out of here.”

  Ianthill cast a few more fireballs before casting them behind Lady Shey’s lightning bolts to cut a swath through the attackers. As soon as there was a clearing, the five of them ran. They rounded the first corner and continued on to escape the flying marauders. A single Dramyd managed to fly close enough to bite Ianthill on the shoulder. Sanmir snatched it out of the air and pushed it inside the solid stone wall of the closest building and stuck it there. Limbs twitched for a few moments as it melded with the stone. Gondrial, directly behind Sanmir, dispatched the next attacking creature. He helped Ianthill to his feet and motioned for Sanmir to follow the others. Gondrial glanced behind them to see hundreds of the creatures in the sky.

  “Ianthill, we need you to kill a few Dramyds,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

  Ianthill glanced at the creatures circling in the sky. “Funny, Gondrial.”

  “You know, kill them like you did at Vetell Fex.”

  “I was frustrated.”

  “I’m sure I can make you frustrated. You stink like the dead. How can an immortal elf be so wrinkly?”

  “Not helping, Gondrial.”

  “Sorry, just trying to take your mind off your pain.”

  Lady Shey slowed down to help Gondrial with Ianthill. “There are too many of them.”

  Gondrial smirked, “No! you don’t say!” Lady Shey glared at him.

  “Shey, in my pocket,” Ianthill instructed. “The Lora Daine, get it.”<
br />
  They rounded the next building and hunched down. Enowene and Sanmir, who had scouted ahead, rejoined them. “They will find us here,” Sanmir said. “We must keep moving.” He looked at Ianthill’s wound. “I know how to stop that poison when we get a moment. I will need a few things from the apothecary shop.”

  Lady Shey found the Lora Daine in Ianthill’s pocket. It was a small brown stone the size of a man’s palm. She showed it to him.

  “That’s it,” Ianthill said.

  “Wait a moment,” Gondrial began. “You said that stone could only carry one person.”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “I think it should probably be me because—”

  “Shut up, Gondrial,” Ianthill said. “Shey, give it to Sanmir. He can use the magic of the Siladil to amplify it for all of us.”

  “Am I able?” Sanmir asked.

  “Yes, the sand elves use this same type of magic all the time. It’s a rock, for Fawl’s sake. You just traveled through the ground. Do that!”

  “Aye.” He clutched the stone, and the others all grabbed ahold of him. Instantly they fell through the ground, and in a flash of light, they were gone.

  When Gondrial opened his eyes, they were all underwater. He pulled Ianthill up to the surface. They were close to a dock with several ships. Tall buildings built one on top of the other lined the landward side of the docks. Gondrial pulled Ianthill to the shoreline and flopped him up onto the beach. Lady Shey and Enowene were right behind him. Sanmir surfaced and began to swim in.

  “Where are we?” Enowene asked.

  “I think Seabrey,” Lady Shey answered. “I recognize the dock.”

  “Nice aim, Sandy!” Gondrial chided Sanmir as he swam ashore.

  “You prefer the Dramyds?” Sanmir said as he crawled onto the sand to tend to Ianthill. “He’s unconscious but breathing. We have to get him to an apothecary shop at once.”

  “Shey says this is Seabrey. Are you familiar with it?” Gondrial inquired.

  “Aye, the apothecary is a man named Joster. If that is the main dock, his shop isn’t far.”

  “You had better go and get what you need, Sanmir,” Enowene suggested. “We will find a place to move him nearby.”

  Shey glanced around. “Did any of you see what happened to Shila? She didn’t come with us.”

  Sanmir nodded. “Aye, she headed back into the inn when the attack began.”

  “I do hope she got away safely. She was a great help to me.”

  “I’m sure she is fine,” Sanmir said. “She wasn’t in the thick of things.” He put his hand on Shey’s shoulder. “I will return as soon as I am able.”

  Gondrial ran over to the nearest ship as Sanmir headed into town. A few moments later, Gondrial returned with four dirty, scruffy-looking sailors and an equally scruffy ship’s captain. They carried a piece of canvas with them to put Ianthill on. As soon as Ianthill was on the canvas, the four sailors hoisted him up and headed for the ship.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Captain,” Gondrial said. “Our apothecary friend will be right back, and he will fix him up.”

  The dirty-faced captain spit off to the side and stuffed a pipe in his mouth. Gondrial caught a whiff of rotten teeth and turned his head in disgust. “’Tis nary a trouble to help someone out.” The captain eyed Gondrial’s sword. “’Tis a fine sword ye got thar.”

  “You are not getting my sword, but here.” Gondrial handed him three gold coins. It was more money than the captain was likely to see in a month of shipping, unless he was a pirate.

  “Do ye all have gold?” The captain had a gleam in his eye.

  “So, you’re a pirate, aren’t you?” Gondrial stated flatly.

  “Nay, not a pirate, sir.”

  “Good, because I would hate to have to kill ye. That is all the gold you are getting.” Gondrial drew in essence. “Here, let me light that.” He waved his hand over the pipe, and it caught fire. Instantly the captain understood. This man was not to be crossed.

  “And don’t get any ideas about alerting any nearby Enforcers.”

  “Nay, you are safe with us. Get yer man well and be on yer way.”

  The two stepped onto the gang plank and went aboard ship.

  Ianthill was placed on a cot in the captain’s cabin. Enowene and Shey cut away the sleeve of Ianthill’s shirt with a dagger Enowene carried.

  “We need some clean water,” Enowene said.

  “No, not water.” Gondrial stopped the captain who had already started for the cabin door. “Rum or any spirit you have would be better.”

  “Aye, that I can find fer ya,” the captain said as he went to a side drawer. He produced a bottle of clear liquid. Gondrial popped the cork, and the unmistakable smell of hard alcohol diffused into the air.

  Gondrial handed the bottle to Enowene. “Here you go. Alcohol can cure just about anything.”

  “Aye, that will do nicely,” Enowene said. “I am certain you believe it will.” She cleaned and dressed his wound with what clean cloth the captain had available.

  Satisfied that Ianthill was in good hands, Gondrial went to the dock to wait for Sanmir. The sun felt good on his skin, and he welcomed the heat to dry his wet clothes. Ianthill was still unconscious when Sanmir finally returned from the apothecary’s shop. Gondrial helped him mix the strange-smelling, yellow concoction needed to counter the Dramyd poison. The actual bite didn’t seem too bad once the wound was cleaned.

  After sundown, the party relocated to a nearby inn just on the landward side of the docks, not far from the water. They had to move when the captain informed them that his ship was loaded and ready to sail. Sanmir had spotted the inn when he returned from his medicine run. By the next morning, Ianthill had still not regained consciousness, and Sanmir began to show signs of concern.

  Gondrial suspected the only reason the Dramyds and Drasmyd Duil had not shown up again was the haphazard use of the Lora Daine that got them to Seabrey. They all tried to stay indoors as much as possible and not give spies the opportunity to spot them. He knew, however, it was only a matter of time before they would be discovered. If the enemy really wanted to locate them, they would find them.

  Ianthill finally awoke on the second day after they arrived in Seabrey, but he was still very weak from fighting off the poison. He would need a couple of days to recuperate.

  With Ianthill out of immediate danger, Gondrial became restless and decided to put on his cloak and go into Seabrey. He intended to scout the city and find out if anyone was looking for them or if there was anything out of the ordinary going on that could be a threat.

  Seabrey, as one could imagine, was one of the major seaports of Symboria. This one happened to be the northernmost hub. This seaside city was of the typical wood and stone construction style of the northern port cities, with peeling paint and old, weatherworn wood. The buildings on the port side of Seabrey were built on top of other buildings in a crescent configuration around the docks. On the other side of the wall of weather-beaten buildings, the streets were arranged in a grid pattern—north and south, and then east to west. Moving away from the docks, the buildings and dwellings were nicer, with more paint still clinging to the exterior walls, but still rather worn from the sea air. People scurried about their day, completing random household tasks and earning wages, Gondrial assumed. Nothing seemed unusual as he strolled up the main market thoroughfare, where shops teemed with activity and vendors on the street hocked their wares. Gondrial did his best to avoid the hagglers. Seabrey, being so far north of the Sacred Land, tended to be much more liberal with the ban on magic. Due to the assault on Brightonhold Keep, the Enforcers had all but been dissolved in the South, and the few that remained in the North were, in effect, useless. Gondrial figured that word would come any day now for the remaining Enforcers to disperse. He did, however, see a couple of the ill-fated men roaming around the shops. If a real wielder appeared, they likely wouldn’t have a clue how to handle it. A humorous thought for Gondrial, considering one had shown
up. He briefly considered having some fun with them by approaching but decided against it. Ianthill’s condition was not worth the risk of being caught, even if the Enforcers were probably inept.

  Gondrial began meandering farther up the street. He traveled to the end of Market Row, where the shops ended and residential streets began, before heading back the way he came. He had almost discounted any worry of being followed or discovered. I think we are still safe, he thought to himself. He strolled a little lighter when, as if taunted by fate, a familiar face caught his eye. A man entering a nearby shop seemed extremely familiar. Upon following the man into the shop, he wracked his brain for an answer as to the identity of the man. He searched the small shop, but he did not see him again. He dismissed the encounter as nerves and exited the shop. The cloaked man had a shadow over his face from his hood anyway. There was no way to be certain that Gondrial had seen enough of the man to recognize him. Satisfied he had made a mistake, he once again sauntered along his route to return to Shey and the others. Not long afterward, he found himself several paces behind a man in a dark cloak darting in and out of the crowds of bartering and shopping patrons. Intrigued, Gondrial quickened his pace. When the man looked back before crossing to the other side of the street, Gondrial caught a glimpse of a familiar face. After a few moments of trying to place the face with a name, he realized the man looked a lot like Esperdahl, the guardian of the armory they had encountered in the ruins of Signal Hill. But that was impossible; how could Esperdahl leave the confines of Signal Hill? Gondrial moved quickly to intercept and crossed the street after the man. He had no indication the other knew he was following.