01 - The Tainted Sword

by D. J. Heinrich - (ebook by Undead)

  Townspeople rushed out, a few with swords in hand, but most with bows or axes. Baildon threw open his mercantile, arming the farmers with his most powerful weapons and giving the bowyers all the arrows he possessed. The people had known the dragon was back in the Wulfholdes, but they never dreamed the wyrm would come so far south to their little village. They were not cowards, however, and they would defend what was rightly theirs.

  The townspeople rushed from the mercantile, shouting angrily and brandishing picks and flails. As they approached the gruesome carnage, however, their courage melted. They halted, their angry words dying in the sounds of the horses’ screams. Dropping their makeshift weapons, some of the villagers turned and fled.

  The dragon stomped past the scattered bodies of the horses. He turned to the townspeople, and his golden eyes positively glowed. The remaining folk fell back as sudden fear gripped their hearts. A lucky handful of villagers ran in stunned terror, leaving the doomed village behind. The others were too stricken to move. The dragon hissed, and a large green cloud spewed from his maw. The vapor covered the throng of remaining defenders, and they began to cough and wheeze at the choking cloud. Many fell to the muddy snow, their limbs writhing with deadly spasms. The dragon advanced.

  It was a brutal massacre, according to the accounts of those few who survived. The great wyrm simply advanced and slew all those who stood before him. His wings beat down and buffeted those his arms couldn’t reach to rend. His tail lashed out behind and battered those few who tried to stand after his initial attack. But most horrible of all was his mouth, with its rows of wicked, pointed teeth that snapped constantly. That maw delivered death and dismemberment left and right.

  The carnage did not end when the folk lay dead; it continued throughout that long, terrifying night. The beast couldn’t be stopped. The archers shot arrow after arrow, but they could not penetrate the dragon’s hide. They shot at the leathery wings, the glassy eyes, and the blood-gorged mouth. These attacks only infuriated the beast to a greater rage.

  Bywater’s only wizard, who had prudently waited for the initial attack to subside before he appeared, had prepared all his best spells in defense of the village. By relaying messages through archers and runners, the villagers planned their next move. The archers would let loose a barrage of arrows. Under that cover, four or five of the most skilled men would attack the dragon’s rear flanks, using the merchant’s magical weapons. Then, while the dragon was being distracted on all sides, the mage would launch his spells.

  All worked as planned. The arrows whistled toward the beast’s eyes and mouth and wings, the weapons bit into his flanks, and lightning streaked through the air toward the creature’s massive heart. But the dragon ignored the raining missiles, flicked his tail and took out the rear guard, and launched his own spell at the mage who challenged him. The dragon’s ball of fire engulfed the mage and all the farmers surrounding him. The fire exploded backward and onto the blacksmith’s shop. Before long, the south side of the street was in flames.

  The horses on the street were dead, many of them disemboweled. Two-thirds of the townsmen lay dead as well. The people of Bywater were shattered—their last hope had died with the mage. Those few who still had their wits about them turned and fled the town.

  But Verdilith was still not finished. The glow in his eyes grew red, and his teeth gleamed evilly. The light of a few remaining lanterns cast a faint glow on the gleaming green hide of the beast as he coursed the street. He sniffed the smoke-filled air, and a line of saliva fell hissing from his mouth. He reached toward the front of a house. The wooden doors groaned as he ripped them from their hinges. Next came the screams of women and children hidden inside.

  By water rang with the cries of the dying that night, and the cries of the living on every night thereafter.

  * * *

  The dragon winged his way north and to the east after ravaging Bywater. The town had sated his blood and appeased his cruel appetites, but the night wasn’t finished. He slowed his flight once he crossed the fork of the river and entered the hills surrounded on either side by the Castellan and the Highreach rivers. Greasetongue’s orc tribe claimed this treacherous land for its own. The dragon would call on the Rooster’s tribe located farther west after his work here was done.

  Verdilith scented the air carefully, changed his direction, and flew another thirty wingspans before spying the light of a fire well hidden in the rugged hills. He went into a slow spiral to give himself time to take in the temperament of the camp before the orcs could discover his presence.

  Gliding in lower, the wyrm laughed, a low rumble that started at the base of his long neck and worked its way out of his mouth as a roar. Shrieks filled the air, and Verdilith was pleased by the pleasant sound of his prey. He was going to enjoy this.

  * * *

  Maldrake stared at the white pillow Teryl Auroch had just handed him. The blond lord didn’t move, and Brisbois was moved to compassion for his friend. He said as gently as he could, “Yvaughan’s young yet, Maldrake. There’ll be other children.”

  Maldrake burst into movement. He threw the pillow at Teryl’s feet and rounded on Brisbois. “She killed my son! Didn’t you hear Teryl? There will be no more children!” The noble threw up his hands and began circling the small chamber in the tower that the three of them used for meetings. “The plan’s ruined! Completely ruined!”

  “The plan?” Brisbois asked, puzzled.

  “The, ah, plan to have his son inherit the estates of Penhaligon, should the baroness not take a husband,” Teryl rejoined smoothly as Maldrake paced the room.

  “Arteris is still young! What’s Maldrake thinking of?” Brisbois asked the mage. The knight stared at Teryl Auroch and wondered just what had happened last night. Today the wizard had lost much of his nervousness, as well as his obsequiousness. He’d even lost the habit of shaking, which had always annoyed Brisbois enormously. Teryl’s new steadiness, however, annoyed Brisbois even more.

  Maldrake whirled on the two men. “You!” he pointed to Teryl. “Get back to Yvaughan’s side. You failed me by not keeping my son alive last night, by not watching that woman. Fail me again, Teryl Auroch, and you won’t like the consequences!” Maldrake’s green eyes glittered with wrath in the sunlight, but Teryl merely bowed calmly and left without a word.

  The blond lord turned on Brisbois and grabbed his blue tunic. Maldrake stared up at Brisbois and growled, “I blame you for the death of my son, Brisbois.”

  Brisbois’ eyes grew wide with innocent fear. “Me? Maldrake, why me? I left last night only to attend to another crisis. I suppose you blame me for the dragon’s slaughter at the stable, too!”

  “That’s not it,” Maldrake hissed, giving the knight a contemptuous push and turning away. The lord paced the room twice before turning on Brisbois again. “If you had killed Flinn and not just destroyed his home, I wouldn’t have had to go out last night. I could have protected my son from that woman.”

  Brisbois snapped, “Flinn had too much help for me to take them all on, and he was never alone long enough for me to finish the deed. Besides, does Flinn really have to die? Isn’t burning his house enough?”

  Maldrake screamed. “No, it’s not! He’s the one who’s made Yvaughan what she is, Brisbois! Can’t you see that? Yvaughan’s been hearing his voice—what other evidence do you want? He’s trying to get her back! He knows I have her, and now he wants her back.”

  Brisbois shook his head. “Now wait a minute, Maldrake,” he said sternly. “Flinn didn’t even know you and Yvaughan were in love when the council stripped him of knighthood, unless you told him and didn’t tell me. It’s possible Flinn doesn’t even know you married her—I certainly didn’t tell him.” Brisbois hit his fist on the lacquered table, an inspired light entering his eyes. “Maldrake! Did you notice how Teryl acted? Something strange has happened to him—he’s not his usual kowtowing self. Maybe he killed your son! I don’t trust him, and I never have!”

  Maldrake peered at
Brisbois from beneath his heavy-lidded eyes. “Brisbois, my dear Brisbois, Teryl would never harm my son,” the young lord said, his lips curling into a sneer of a smile. Maldrake extended a chair for the knight. “I think it’s time I tell you a thing or two….”

  Chapter VIII

  Flinn looked down from his vantage point on a small crest overlooking the road to Bywater. The little town was less than an hour’s easy ride away. Although the barren forests still obscured his view, Flinn saw smoke trickle into the air from where Bywater was situated. The cloud looked blacker and more pervasive than the smoke of chimneys. Flinn looked up uneasily at the ravens circling overhead. Their ominous croaks in the winter air grew louder as Flinn, Jo, and Dayin approached the small town. The presence of the birds boded ill. Flinn spurred on Ariac, followed by Johauna on Brisbois’ horse and Dayin on Fernlover. Both the young woman and the boy had noticed the same omens as Flinn, and all three were grimly quiet as they traveled the road.

  As they topped the final rise before Bywater, the ruin opened up before them. Flinn’s breath caught short. The once-lovely village of By water lay like a festering scar upon the land. Half the town was nothing more than a charred skeleton. Fire had ravaged the buildings, and thick timbers still smoldered. Bits of stone masonry remained, as did a portion of the second floor of the inn. Ash stirred in the light wind and swirled into the mid-afternoon sun.

  The other half of Bywater hadn’t been touched by fire. Flinn at first hoped those buildings had been spared the destruction. But, passing the outskirts and entering the village proper, Flinn saw that he was wrong. Doors had been ripped from their hinges, windows had been smashed, and shutters tom away. Bodies draped the wreckage or lay in the road. An unearthly pall hung over the town. Flinn rode forward, and a lone dog ran barking across the street and disappeared into the remains of the blacksmith’s shop.

  “Isn’t anyone left alive?” he murmured.

  Stopping, Flinn tied Ariac’s rein to the ring in front of Baildon’s Mercantile. Only then did Flinn notice the long claw mark of a dragon. The gouge ran across the front of the mercantile and must have taken out the double doors, for burlap bags covered the opening now. It had shattered one of the windows, too, and bits of glass lay scattered about.

  Verdilith! Flinn’s mind shouted. He bounded up the steps in front of the shop and burst past the cloth partition.

  Baildon was inside, trying to restock the wares that had been scattered about in the attack. He looked up when Flinn entered. The merchant’s expression was stupid with fatigue and terror.

  “So it’s Flinn the Fallen come to rescue us at last,” Baildon said. His voice was filled with scorn.

  Jo and the boy crowded in behind Flinn. Dayin tried to say something, but Jo clasped a warning hand on his shoulder. Flinn threw her a grateful glance and then stepped forward.

  “Verdilith?”

  “Aye,” Baildon said softly, then sank to the floor. Slowly Flinn sat down beside him. The shopkeeper’s eyes disappeared into the folds of his face, and he began to cry. “He came last night, just at sunset. Nothing stopped him, Flinn. I doubt even you could have. I passed out every arrow and enchanted blade I owned. Esald—” the merchant’s face crumpled at some memory “—Esald attacked with his magic, too, but nothing halted the dragon. Nothing. He killed the horses first, and they screamed and screamed, but we couldn’t stop him. We thought he’d be satisfied with the horses, but he wasn’t. We tried… but… everything failed. Even after most of our men were dead, the wyrm wouldn’t cease his bloodletting. He went after the women and children we’d hidden in our homes and shops.”

  The merchant shook with remembered terror, and Flinn saw that the man was near collapse. Flinn touched Baildon’s shoulder in compassion, but Baildon angrily shrugged the gesture away.

  “Where were you, O Flinn the Mighty? Where?” Baildon yelled, his voice cracking. “You could have saved us if you’d wanted to, like I asked you to, if you hadn’t been such a coward! I knew you were afraid of the prophecy. I knew you were!”

  “Baildon,” Flinn said quietly, “I’m sorry the dragon attacked Bywater. I can’t tell you how much I grieve for you—”

  “Better yet,” the man continued as if he hadn’t heard Flinn, “why didn’t you kill the dragon when you had the chance all those years ago? Why’d you let him go? My town lies destroyed because of you. My daughters lie dead because of you.” The shopkeeper crumpled against Flinn. Wracking sobs shook Baildon’s large frame. Awkwardly Flinn tried to comfort his friend. Jo and Dayin stood a respectful distance away, trying not to intrude on the shopkeeper’s sorrow. They began clearing away the damaged goods and straightening the rest.

  “What can I do to help, Baildon?” Flinn asked when the man’s cries began to subside and Baildon pulled away. Flinn put his hand on the merchant’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Let me spend a few days here with you, and I will help you put the mercantile back to rights.”

  Baildon grabbed Flinn’s elbow. A strange energy pulsed through him. “Flinn!” he shouted. “Flinn! You can avenge my daughters’ deaths!” The man’s eyes fixed on Flinn.

  The warrior leaned back. “Take it easy, Baildon. You’ve had a bad shock. Let me help you put your store back to rights, and we’ll discuss vengeance later.”

  Baildon stood abruptly, and Flinn followed, though more slowly. “No, no. The best and only way you can help me is to leave now, and hunt the wyrm.”

  “But the town…”

  “There isn’t a man in Bywater other than me who ever gave you a kind word,” Baildon stated. His color was returning, and a fevered light shone in his eyes. “I’m asking you to do this for me, Flinn, though the town would ask the same of you if they only dared to speak to your face instead of behind your back.”

  Flinn was reminded of all the whispered words of spite he’d heard in the past and the ringing taunts that had greeted him on his last trip. He gritted his teeth. To be a good and honorable man, he should stay here and help these people who had scorned him throughout the years. But even the jeering survivors would prefer him to win their vengeance rather than help rebuild their homes. The pain of past humiliations stung. Baildon’s plea was almost enough to tip the scales in favor of leaving Bywater.

  “No, I can’t, Baildon,” he said slowly. “I must stay here and help you. It’s what I should do.”

  Baildon looked aside. “It’s not quite that simple. Some survivors blame you for their troubles, Flinn. They need a scapegoat. You aren’t welcome in Bywater anymore. Ever. If you don’t leave now, they may kill you.” He looked back at Flinn. “And I cannot stop them.”

  Flinn ground his teeth. “As you wish,” he said abruptly, giving in despite his better intents. Baildon clapped the warrior’s shoulders and smiled grimly, but Flinn held up his hand warningly and said, “I’ll go, but first I’ll need some supplies. And I have to go to the Castle of the Three Suns and become reinstated as a knight again, Baildon. Vengeance may take a little time.”

  “Take all you want, Flinn. I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Baildon said brusquely. “What do you need?”

  “Only enough food for about a week, Baildon. I don’t want the townspeople to go hungry because of us,” Flinn began. “I have money, too.”

  The merchant stared back at Flinn, his eyes colored with pain again. “There are so few of us left. The food’ll go bad before we can eat it all. And I know it’ll take you more than a week to get to the castle and then find Verdilith’s lair. Besides, this is for my daughters.”

  Baildon began gathering up the supplies Flinn requested: flour, salt, sugar, grainmeal, jerky, salt pork, dried fruits, and twice-baked bread, all packed inside two burlap bags that would straddle Fernlover. At the last moment Baildon insisted on adding a pot of honey, a fresh haunch of venison, and a flagon of mead.

  While Baildon gathered the supplies, Flinn looked over the few remaining short swords, none of which were magical. He checked the blades for balance and keennes
s of edge. Finding one to his liking, he threw it to Johauna, who promptly checked the blade for herself. She nodded her approval to Flinn. The former knight turned to the shopkeeper.

  “I’ve only thirty-five goldens, Baildon,” Flinn said and pointed to the blade. “Can I afford the sword, too?” Baildon gazed intently at the well-wrought blade in Jo’s hands. “Give me thirty for the food and the sword, Flinn, and we’ll call it even,” Baildon said finally. “You’re getting the best deal I’ve ever made, but I wouldn’t want to take the last gold from the man who’s going to lay my girls’ spirits to rest.” The large man finished packaging the supplies and handed them to Flinn, who put his coins on the counter. The two men clasped wrists.

  “My thanks, Fain Flinn,” Baildon said steadily, his eyes bright with tears.

  “I will bring you the head of Verdilith himself,” Flinn promised. “You can mount him over your doors.”

  “Once they’re in place again,” Baildon managed to say with something of a smile. “I’ll see you to the edge of town. Go out the way you came in. The others are burying their dead out on the knoll to the east, and the sight of you would be enough to start a lynch mob. I buried Enyd and Naura there this morning,” he added in a strangely calm voice.

  Flinn called to Jo and Dayin, who joined the warrior and the merchant outside. Flinn put the supplies on Fernlover. Leading their respective mounts, Flinn, Jo, and Dayin all followed Baildon as they walked back the way they had come. Flinn gritted his teeth. By rights he should pay his respects and then leave Bywater. Instead he was slinking through town hoping not to be seen!

  They saw no one as they left the ruined village. Baildon and Flinn clasped wrists one last time, then parted company without saying anything. Flinn gave the signal, and he and Jo and the boy mounted up.

  * * *

  “Shouldn’t we be heading west for the castle by now, Flinn? Or are we headed somewhere else first?” Johauna asked after Flinn signaled a quick halt. They were less than an hour’s ride north of Bywater, and the crippled village lay out of sight behind the winter forests. The sojourn in town had been painful to Jo, though she had seen worse destruction done to parts of Specularum when the lords had decided to “clean up” the slum quarters. But the poor folk of Specularum had learned of the coming disaster and fled. The people in Bywater had had no such warning.