by Jon Bender
From outside of Jaxom’s vision, another sword came down, landing a heavy blow on the back of the foe’s armor. He staggered then whipped around to face his new attacker. His calm attacks became faster and less precise in anger. Jaxom could see that Nelix had saved him, but the general was now hard pressed. The long days of fleeing were taking their toll. Jaxom dropped the reins and sent the black and grey twirling blight to wrap around the armor-plated man’s upraised arm and chest. It seeped through the spaces in the armor to find the flesh beneath, but even the magic did not stop him from fighting as his body rotted. He screamed as he swung his sword until finally he could fight no more. His shiny plate armor fell to the ground, an empty shell.
“Thank you,” Jaxom said. Nelix looked even wearier than before. The man had a deep gash almost exactly where his old scar was, and the blood flowed freely down his face.
“Thank me when it’s over lad,” he said, looking about. “For now, follow me.”
Jaxom followed the older man deeper into fray until they found what he thought was the center. At its core stood Tamrick. Around his horse, a thicket of green plants had sprung up and seemed to be keeping the enemy soldiers away. One of the plants stood on a thick green base from which four vines tipped with barbs lashed out any unfortunate enough to come to close. Another plant looked like a bush covered with large red flowers. From the center of those flowers, thorns the length of a man’s hand shot forth, embedding themselves in armor and flesh. Several other plants lay hacked to pieces on the ground.
Jaxom could feel exhaustion creeping in. Jaxom and Nelix positioned themselves near the green mage, who nodded at them with a look of relief on his tired face. Jaxom sheathed his sword and stretched both hands out toward the many dead on the ground. Almost as one, fifteen dead soldiers stood and began attacking the Southerners with an abandon and ferocity that living men rarely showed. Jaxom commanded them to attack with hands and teeth as they leapt upon the mounted men and pulled them down to the ground. They gouged out eyes with dead fingers and tore out throats with bared teeth, hammering with fists or stomping on those who had fallen to the ground.
It was pure carnage. Jaxom’s risen killed one after another in the most horrific manners possible. In the end, it was too much for the Southerners. They began fleeing, first individually, then in mass until it was a full retreat. The Ale’adarians gave chase, and all along the line, the remaining enemy ran for their lives as they were cut down from behind. Finally, a loud, long horn blew, calling for a halt. Jaxom saw a flash of red in the forest. The risen fire mage would have not heeded the call. He called it back to him and soon saw the risen mage walking out of the trees. Reanimating so many at once had drained him quickly. He felt that any minute he would fall from his saddle. He cut the flow of magic to the remaining risen soldiers, and they dropped to ground, still once more. The relief was immediate. He steadied himself on his horse. Only then did he start to hear the sound of men crying out in pain. Those who were able began helping the injured, binding wounds and getting them back on to horses or pulling them up to ride double.
“That was something to watch,” Tamrick said. His green robe had a long, blood-soaked tear along his ribs, but the man seemed to be in a good mood, which irritated Jaxom for some reason. “Watching those dead men rip into the Southerners almost made me as fearful as I think they were,” he continued.
Jaxom cringed. The risen had been brutal, feral, almost evil. And he was responsible for what they had done. “It was necessary,” Jaxom said darkly, trying more to convince himself than the other mage.
“I agree that it was needed. I just have never seen anything like it before,” he replied.
Jaxom nodded to the green mage, then noticed the risen fire mage moving towards them. Tamrick raised his hand to cast, but Jaxom grabbed his arm before he could release the magic. “She is one of mine and no longer a threat,” Jaxom said.
The fire mage was in bad shape. Slashes and cuts covered its body, with one deep cut burrowing half way through the leg. Jaxom was tired and still expending energy, but he reached down to repair the damage the risen had received during the battle. When all the gaping wounds had closed, Jaxom leaned back up to find a confused Tamrick looking at him.
“Why would you heal her? Why not just release her as you did the others?” he asked.
“She may still be useful,” Jaxom replied.
“You don’t mean…?” Tamrick said shocked, looking from Jaxom to the emotionless risen mage then back again.
“That is exactly what he means,” a voice said from behind them. Jaxom turned in his saddle to see Darian riding double behind Danika. The risen ice mage walked next to them. Darian jumped down, walking over to the risen fire mage and peering at it. “Your magic is truly amazing, Jaxom. How many can you control at one time?”
“I don’t know, honestly. It seems to take more energy to animate a mage than it does other people,” Jaxom replied.
“Perhaps we could move this to somewhere…not here,” Tamrick said, glancing around at the motionless forms littering the ground.
Jaxom looked around. He had somehow failed to notice the hundreds of dead men and horses surrounding them. He was disturbed at what he had become accustomed to. Worse, some of the lifeless bodies had been put there by him. He spotted one corpse whose eyes and mouth gaped wide in a silent scream. His neck had been ripped out. Jaxom had a flash of one of the risen, his risen, ripping the young man’s throat out with its teeth. Feeling a sudden urge to be away, he started walking his horse, commanding his two risen mages to follow. His companions trailed after him, only stopping when they reached an area clear of the dead. Looking back, Jaxom saw soldiers moving among the fallen, collecting weapons and strapping them to horses in bundles. Others picked up the wounded and carried them to join the other survivors, most sitting on the ground alone or in small groups.
A shadow passed overhead just before the two durgen landed a short distance away. Adriana and Brenin jumped down from their saddles. The huntress ran towards him, and he dismounted to meet her on the ground. She slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him deeply. They stayed like that for a long time before someone coughed, reminding them they were not alone.
When Jaxom broke the embrace, he shook Brenin’s hand. “I saw you on the ground running around like a mad man a few times, but I lost sight of you towards the end. I feared--”
“We are all here, and that is what matters,” Jaxom replied.
“So this beautiful woman is the person I owe my life to,” Tamrick said, as he dismounted to walk up to the group of friends.
Jaxom looked quizzically at the man, then Adriana. “I helped him when we first arrived,” Adriana explained.
“General Blackburn guessed wrong when he said there were only three mages. I faced both an ice and fire mage alone. You are lucky you already seem to have won her heart. Otherwise, I would have proposed right here on the spot,” Tamrick said with a laugh.
Jaxom smiled at Adriana, but the mention of Nelix reminded him that he had yet to see both the general and Celia. He found them still mounted among the survivors nearby. He waved his hand above his head until he got their attention and the two joined Jaxom’s group.
“Did either of you see what become of the Southerners?” Nelix asked Adriana and Brenin.
“They are in full retreat, General,” Brenin answered.
“Good,” Nelix said. “I know you all have the urge to sit for a while and enjoy our victory, but we have no time for that. The sooner we get back to the king, the sooner the wounded can be treated. We all need some rest. I will need you two to scout around us as we make our way back,” he said. Adriana and Brenin nodded. “Let’s get going. I want to be eating a warm meal and sleeping under a tent before nightfall.”
Those present began moving out at a slow pace. Jaxom himself was ready to lay down on the ground right there and sleep until morning, but they still had hours of travel left to make it back to the camp. A
driana gave him another quick kiss before she and Brenin climbed back into their saddles and took to the air. Jaxom climbed back into his own saddle and followed the other mages with his two risen in tow. Watching everyone go about their business, he felt a sense of relief. All of his friends, and possibly new ones, had made it through the day. He wondered how the three who had stayed behind in Ale’adar were doing. Jaxom envied them, safe and comfortable behind the city walls.
Chapter 23
Da’san walked down the torchlit steps to the outer room of the cells. The damp air soaked through his robes and chilled his skin. Jerup and Cribble were waiting for him at the bottom, talking to the three men on duty and another in brown robes whom Da’san assumed was an earth mage. The dark priest lay bound and gagged in one of the barred rooms. Da’san had received word this morning that Jerup requested his presence during the interrogation. Da’san had been reluctant to take part in the questioning, but his brother priests had urged him to go. The Guard would not be equipped to talk to the dark one alone. His brothers were also adamant that he learn as much as he could about Or’Keer, this god who sought to subvert the worship of Sarinsha. Jerup waved him over. “I’m glad you decided to join us,” the guardsman said.
“I am not sure how I can help,” Da’san replied. “I have no experience in interrogation.”
“But perhaps you will have some insights to share,” Cribble said. “This is Magus Nimis. He will be joining us as well just in case this priest decides that he no longer wishes to be confined.”
“A pleasure,” Nimis said. “Guardsman Jerup has been telling me of your part in the capture. I was thoroughly impressed by his description of your casting and hope you can give me a demonstration some time.” Nimis was middle-aged man with light brown hair greying slightly at the temples. His calm and open demeanor gave Da’san the impression that the man would not speak something he did not mean.
“I do not cast as you do, Magus. The goddess honors me by granting gifts I requested in prayer,” Da’san replied.
“Magic is magic, my young friend, no matter where it comes from,” he said with a smile.
“As you say, Magus,” Da’san said. “Are we ready to speak to the prisoner?” he asked Cribble.
The captain nodded and grabbed a torch from the wall before throwing back the bolt on the metal door. Jerup picked up a bladder and a tray of food and followed the other man in with Nimis and Da’san close behind. The door closed with a bang behind them, casting the stone hall into darkness relieved only by the dim light of widely-spaced torches mounted on the walls. The captain stopped in front of the first cell. The light from his torch illuminated the interior of the small space. The dark priest sat against the back wall, his hands bound behind his back and gag in place. Da’san knew the man’s discomfort having recently experienced something similar himself.
Cribble entered. “I will remove your gag and bindings now. If you speak without being spoken to, you will regret it. Nod if you understand,” he said.
The dark priest glowered at the captain with hate in his eyes but nodded his head slowly. Cribble placed the torch in a sconce, then undid the dark priest’s bindings. When the captain returned to his place, Jerup handed the bladder to the priest and placed the tray on the floor in front of him. Lurching to his feet, the man guzzled the water and devoured the plate of food. When he had finished, he looked again at Cribble with the same hate in his eyes.
“Now, we are going to ask you some questions. How you answer will determine what happens next. Nod if you understand,” Cribble said. The captive nodded again. “Good.”
Nimis stepped forward, raising his hand and casting. The grey stones seemed to twist and shift against each other as they lifted from the floor, encasing the dark priest’s arms up to the shoulders. It happened so quickly that the standing man was taken by surprise. He pulled and jerked his arms before finally giving up.
“What is your name?” Cribble asked.
“Vanon,” the captive said.
“Last night you said that Or’Keer has tens of hundreds of followers in the city. I want to know exactly how many and the names of all those you know,” Cribble said.
The priest laughed, an evil sounding wheeze. “Or’Keer will flay the flesh from your bones when he takes this city as his own.”
Cribble’s fist connected with the priest’s face. It happened so unexpectedly that Da’san started forward, but Jerup stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. Jerup shook his head.
“How many?” Cribble asked again.
This time, the priest remained silent, returning Cribble’s hard stare. Cribble’s other hand shot out, and the priest’s head snapped back. Again, the priest said nothing. Infuriated, Cribble released a flurry of hits to the man’s body until the priest was sagging and gasping for air, the stone entrapping his arms the only thing holding him upright. Da’san moved to stop Cribble, but Jerup dragged him by the arm out into the hall.
“I know it’s not pretty, but we don’t have time to break the man’s will first,” Jerup said, keeping his voice low.
“I do not care,” Da’san replied. “This is not who we are.”
“Today, it is,” Jerup said grimly. “You heard what he said in the warehouse. Or’Keer is going to convert or kill everyone in the city, and soon. What this man knows could save those people. It could save my family.”
Da’san was going to argue further, but when Jerup mentioned his family, Da’san saw the fear in his eyes. He sighed. “How do we know that he will not just lie to us?”
“Captain Cribble has experience tripping people up to find out if they are telling the truth. Sometimes a lie can tell you just as much as an honest word,” Jerup said.
“I have an idea that may gain us the knowledge of what we are up against, knowledge we can trust. I just need some time with Vanon,” Da’san said. Jerup raised his eyebrows, considering, then nodded.
Inside the cell, Cribble was leaning against a wall, letting the dark priest catch his breath. The priest’s face was a swollen mass of black and purple. Jerup whispered in the captain’s ear. Cribble looked out at Da’san then moved out into the hall to speak with him. “Jerup says you have another way to get the information we need,” Cribble said.
“It may not work, but I think it worth trying,” Da’san said.
“What do you need?” Cribble asked.
“I need you to gag him again and be quiet while I commune with Sarinsha,” Da’san said.
The captain nodded and moved back into the cell, replacing the gag and securing it with the cloth. Vanon eyed them suspiciously. Da’san actually thought the man looked worried for the first time. Sitting down in front of the dark priest, Da’san crossed his legs and placed his hands in his lap. Words spilled quietly from his lips as he called to Sarinsha.
I hear you, Da’san. The goddess’s voice echoed in his mind like a harp playing softly, a sound so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes.
“My goddess, I must ask if you know of the dark god Or’Keer and his designs on those who give you their devotion,” Da’san asked humbly. Many had tried to speak directly to her throughout the history of the temple, but she never graced them with her presence.
Of course, my faithful priest. What would you have of me?
“My lady, how can we stop him?”
Or’Keer was not known to us until he began to influence the kingdoms of the world. He is newly born. We search for him here in our own realm, but he remains hidden from us, she said. Da’san thought that he had heard a note of annoyance in her voice, but he dismissed the thought. Surely, divine beings were not capable of such lowly human emotions.
“Can you help us defeat him?” Da’san asked
The pact we made long ago with the mages restrains my power in the world, she said. I am not able to intervene. This time, Da’san heard a red thread of anger twined inside the golden sound of her voice.
Jaxom had told him what he had learned in Alimar’s palace about the War of
the Gods, but Da’san had not been convinced of the book’s legitimacy. Pages written by men, then rewritten again hundreds of years ago by other men must assuredly have mistakes. The idea that men, even mages, could force his god to agree to terms seemed absurd. Now Sarinsha confirmed the story, forcing Da’san to consider what else in the book might be true. Had the gods made war on each other at the cost of countless human lives? He felt the worm of doubt work its way into the foundation of his faith. He shook his head. No matter what happened in the past, Sarinsha had helped thousands of others by healing their illnesses and injuries.
“My lady, I have before me a servant of Or’Keer. We believe that he has information we need, but he refuses to offer it willingly,” Da’san said.
Or’Keer would not look kindly on betrayal. Nothing mortal men can do would compare to the torment he would inflict on one who betrayed him.
“I humbly ask for your assistance in finding out the secrets he holds,” Da’san said.
I can guide you to the information you seek, but you may not survive, she said. Do you wish to continue?
Da’san considered their need, thinking of Jerup’s family and the thousands of others in Ale’adar. “I accept the risk,” he said.
Very well, you must still your mind and hold to the core of your being. Da’san did as his goddess instructed. He felt himself being pulled away as his consciousness was disconnected from his physical form, floating in the space between his body and that of the dark priest. Hovering above, he could see Cribble watching him with impatience while Jerup looked on with concern. The mage showed only curiosity as he stared intently at Da’san’s body. Suddenly, he was jerked toward the other priest at speed, merging with him and entering his thoughts. Da’san had not realized the lack of feeling in his current state until he was fully apart of the dark priest. He could now feel the pain the man felt, the pain in his chest from the repeated blows and the swelling that was beginning to close the right eye.
