“What are you talking about?” Tula asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. How could it have happened already?” She stared at them. “What do you mean?”
Dyphestive looked at her. “It’s a long story. And we don’t have time to talk about it. Grey, how are we going to change Hercullon’s mind? We need proof.”
Grey Cloak shrugged. “I’ll think of something.”
With another sigh, Dyphestive bumped his head against the bars. His hard skull made a noticeable thump. Mauk woke up.
19
“Hello.” Grey Cloak lifted the scarf over his nose and vanished.
Mauk jumped out of his chair and drew his sword. He rapidly blinked his sleepy eyes and crept forward, poking his sword into the empty air.
Grey Cloak slipped away from the blade and distanced himself.
“Did you see that?” Mauk asked excitedly. “Did you?”
Tula yawned. “What are you talking about, Mauk? I didn’t see anything.”
“Neither did I.” Dyphestive smiled.
Mauk rubbed his hairy face. “Don’t take me for a fool. I know I saw someone, a man—an elf.” He pointed at Tula. “Like you.”
“Maybe it was me.” She shrugged her shoulders and eyebrows. “Or maybe you were dreaming.”
“Don’t play games with me, thief.” Mauk’s nostrils flared, and he drew in a deep breath. “I can smell treachery. My barbarian blood senses it.”
“You aren’t a barbarian,” Tula stated.
“All the Culpeppers are.” Mauk spun around with his sword, striking at the empty air. “I can feel a presence.”
“Mauk, you aren’t even a Culpepper. You’re a guardian. No relation. If you were a Culpepper, you wouldn’t be working in the dungeon,” Tula added. “Take it easy. Go sit down and resume your nap.”
“Don’t mock me, dead woman. I know what I saw. An elf!” He took a stab near where Grey Cloak was standing.
Grey Cloak moved aside, poked the Rod of Weapons into Mauk’s belly, and sent a charge into the tip.
Bzzzzzt!
Mauk’s entire body twitched. His belly rolled like waves.
Grey Cloak reappeared. To his amazement, Mauk was still standing. “Uh-oh.”
“I knew it!” Mauk uttered. “Intruder!” He charged.
With the speed of a striking snake, Grey Cloak dodged Mauk’s swinging sword, twisted around the large man, and drove the rod into his back, unleashing more wizard fire.
“Aaaargh!” Mauk’s sword clattered on the stone floor. He staggered around, walking on wobbly legs, crashed into the bars of a cell, and finally collapsed with his eyes wide open and drool coming out of his mouth.
“Is he dead?” Dyphestive asked.
Grey Cloak waved his hand in front of the man’s face. Mauk didn’t blink, but he breathed. “I think he’s done in for now. I gave him quite a jolt, twice. I believe his belly absorbed the first one. He’s stout. I’ll say that much for him. Perhaps he is a barbarian.”
“Will you let me out of here now?” Dyphestive pleaded.
“Don’t be hasty.” Grey Cloak rubbed his chin. “We need to think this through.”
Dyphestive grabbed the bars and started to pull against them. “Hurk!”
Tula’s eyes grew like saucers.
The bars started to bend as Dyphestive’s jaw muscles tightened, and his face turned beet red. Steel gave way to brawn, and the bars bowed like metal spoons. He pulled the steel gap wide open and squeezed through.
Grey Cloak gave him a disappointed look. “Those dungeon doors aren’t cheap, you know.”
“Will you quit wasting time?” Dyphestive started toward the exit.
“Give me a moment. I have an idea. Maybe. Let me check our assets, because I thought of something.” He rummaged through his pockets and produced several finger-length potion vials. “Tatiana filled my pouches with these at the Treasure Room. The problem is I don’t know what they do. Now, where’s that pamphlet she gave me?”
“I don’t see how potions are going to help,” Dyphestive said. “We’ll have to convince Hercullon ourselves.”
Tula reached through the bars and plucked a vial out of Grey Cloak’s hand.
“Goy, woman, give that back!” he said.
She retreated behind the bars. “Let me out first.”
“No.”
“A shame, because I can read it.” She ran a delicate finger along the gray wax rim. “See, it’s written right here. It says fire-breathing.”
“It does not.” Grey Cloak fished out the small rolled-up scroll Tatiana had given him. “I have a guide right here.” He unrolled the scroll until it hit the ground and started rolling across the floor to Mauk’s knees. “Zooks. How long is this list?”
Dyphestive looked over Grey Cloak’s shoulder and squinted. “The lettering is very tiny.”
“It’s going to take me all day to look through this.” He tried to match the arcane lettering to the lettering on the vial. “I knew I should have paid more attention during Yuri Gnomeknower’s training.”
Tula gave him a frozen stare.
He caught her glare and said, “Nothing.”
She waggled the potion vial. “Once again, I can read it.”
“Don’t trust her. She’s a thief,” Dyphestive said.
“What’s wrong with that? She didn’t steal anything from us.”
“She stole your potion.”
“Oh, true.” Grey Cloak beckoned with his fingers. “Hand it over, Tula.”
Tula returned his steely gaze. “You’re wasting time.” She twisted the cork on the vial, breaking the wax seal, and chugged the potion.
“Nooo!” Grey Cloak whined.
He gave her an incredulous look as she tipped the vial and shook the last few drops onto her tongue.
“What did you do that for?”
“Mmm… spicy.” Tula placed the vial in his outstretched palm. She held up a finger. “Give it a moment.” A loud gurgling sound started inside her belly. Her lips curled, and she pressed her palm to her flat belly. “Oh my. I feel like I’m going to give birth again. You better stand back.”
Grey Cloak and Dyphestive took one long step away from Tula’s cell.
A loud belch followed, and a plume of fire erupted from her mouth that melted the bars like snow. Tula stepped outside of her cell, avoiding the dripping molten metal. “Ah, I feel better.”
20
Grey Cloak reluctantly handed her the potion vials. He didn’t know quite what to make of the older woman, but she made him a tad uneasy. “You better not deceive us,” he warned. “How did you learn to read magic anyway?”
“A good thief can read many things. That’s what makes them good.” Tula held up a vial and eyed it in the torchlight. The vial’s color was dull, but when she shook it, it turned bright blue with shiny silvery swirls within. “Interesting. Lightning bolts. Where did you get these? They’re very aggressive.”
“That’s none of your business,” Grey Cloak said.
“I see.” She held up another, shook it, and read the lettering engraved in the wax. “Steel skin.” She looked at another and another. “Giantus.” She eyed it. “Only a dose left. Ah, mending. Very helpful. I’d hold onto that one. Let’s see, this one is apparition.”
“What does that do?” Dyphestive asked.
“Turns you into a ghost.” Tula jiggled another potion. “Hmm… telepathy, another mending potion, sustenance, hah, that will keep your belly full. I don’t see how any of these are going to be of much help, but I could take them off your hands and sell them for a lot of money. I know a merchant who would be very interested.”
Streak rested his head on Grey Cloak’s shoulder. “I’d like to try the lightning bottle. Sounds cool.”
Grey Cloak took back several potion vials. He shook the telepathy vial. It turned into a somber green color. He smirked. “I have an idea.”
“Which one is that?” Dyphestive asked with a curious look.
“Telepathy, it allows
you to read a person’s mind.” He took back another handful of vials and put them back inside his cloak. “Hand over the other one, Tula.”
She gave a sheepish smile. “This potion offers fleetness. I was hoping to keep it.”
“Sorry, but you’re on your own, dragon breath.”
Dyphestive tugged on his shoulder. “Care to get back to your plan? How is reading minds going to help us warn Hercullon?”
“Easy. We aren’t going to read his mind. He’s going to read ours once he drinks this.”
“Ah.” Dyphestive’s expression brightened.
“Good idea, boss.” Streak’s pink tongue flicked out of his mouth. “But how are you going to get him to drink it?”
“I’ll turn invisible and put it in his ale or something.” He pulled the Scarf of Shadows over his nose. “Simple, yes?”
“I can still see you,” Dyphestive stated.
“So can I,” added Tula.
“Zooks, I forgot. It only works once in the day, and I dispelled it when I revealed myself to Mauk.”
“Smooth.” Tula put her hands on her hips. “Now what are you going to do?”
“Do you know where Hercullon is now?” Dyphestive asked.
“He went to train.”
Dyphestive nodded. “I know where that is.” He opened his palm. “Let me have the potion.”
Grey Cloak handed it over. “What are you going to do?”
“Pour it down his throat if he won’t listen. Let’s go.”
Tula moved to the door that led to the guard room. She pressed her ear against the door then turned to the brothers. “I’ll handle the guards. You two make a run for it.”
“No, wait,” Grey Cloak said.
Before he could reach her, she started pounding on the door.
“Have you gone mad?”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” she said.
The door cracked open. Someone on the other side said, “What is it, Mauk? Are you hungry again?”
Dyphestive pushed by Tula, manhandled the door, and yanked it open. The guard stumbled inside the dungeon and fell down the steps. He fought to stand, but Grey Cloak zapped him with the Rod of Weapons.
“I really am getting good at this.” Grey Cloak spun the rod around his body. “No killing, but it leaves a mark and I’m sure an awful headache.”
The second dungeon guard rushed Dyphestive with his sword and unleashed a downward chop. Dyphestive caught the man’s wrist in one hand and punched him out with his fist. The burly guard crumpled to the floor. Dyphestive dragged the guard into the dungeon and rolled him down the steps, putting him by the first guard.
He eyed Tula and Grey Cloak. “Come on.”
The trio exited, and Tula locked the guards inside the dungeon using the ring of keys. When she turned around, she was facing Grey Cloak and Dyphestive. “What?”
Grey Cloak said, “This is where we part ways, Tula.”
“You aren’t going to help me escape?” she asked.
“We aren’t escaping. You’re on your own,” Dyphestive replied.
She gave them both a dejected look. “I’m sad, but I’m grateful for your help.” She offered an embrace. “Hugs?”
They put up their hands.
“No thanks, sticky fingers,” Grey Cloak said.
“Have it your way.” She tossed the ring of keys in the air then sprinted between them, up the stairs, and out of sight. “Goodbye,” she said, her voice fading as it echoed down the stairwell and died.
“She was strange,” Grey Cloak said, “and oddly fast.” He looked at his brother. “Lead the way. And remember, we can’t be seen.”
“I know how to sneak.”
“Says the water buffalo. Don’t rush it. If the guardians see us, we’ll never make it to Hercullon.”
Dyphestive nodded. “Oh, we’ll make it to Hercullon one way or another. I swear it.”
21
Dyphestive hurried through the long corridors and hallways on cat’s feet. He peeked around every corner before moving to the next one. Grey Cloak remained behind him, little more than a shadow that never spoke a word. They closed in on Hercullon’s training arena.
Dyphestive stopped in his tracks. Four guardians lay sprawled on the floor, completely unconscious. The blood brothers hadn’t even drawn a weapon. They shared a glance. Grey Cloak shrugged.
Dyphestive resumed the lead, walking over the fallen men like they were logs in the grass. He took the stairs to the lower level of the stronghold and found more men knocked out along the way.
“Mercy,” Grey Cloak whispered. He dropped to a knee and put his hand on a warrior’s neck. “He breathes. All their chests rise and fall.”
“We need to get to Hercullon quick,” Dyphestive said.
He picked up speed and headed down the stairs into the training arena. He spotted Hercullon in the middle of the arena with his back turned away and his arms spread wide. He held metal clubs up like torches in his hands. Drops of sweat rolled down Hercullon’s back. A puddle of water formed on the floor beneath his chin.
“What’s he doing?” Grey Cloak whispered.
“I can hear you,” Hercullon responded in his strong, resonant tone. “And I recognize your voice. You shouldn’t have come here, Grey Cloak. You’re going to die.” He lifted the two clubs in his hands, and his scarred arms bulged with mighty muscles. “I can only assume you killed my guardians along the way. I should have smelled your treachery.” He advanced.
Dyphestive blocked his path. “Hercullon, would we have come here if we were guilty? We aren’t the traitors. Sandal and Lorry are.”
Hercullon’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” He lashed out and struck Dyphestive in the arm. He blasted Dyphestive in the leg with the other club, knocking him from his feet. “Feel that, boy? That’s pain. And more’s coming!” He pointed a club at Grey Cloak. “For you!”
“Can’t we talk about this?” Grey Cloak backed away with his rod in his hands. The end flared up with blue light. “I’d hate to hurt a friend.”
“Magic.” Hercullon spit. “Pah.”
Dyphestive dived on Hercullon’s ankles. “You have to listen to us. They want you to die.”
Hercullon whacked him with his club. “Get off me, or I’ll bust your skull open!”
Grey Cloak rammed the Rod of Weapons into Hercullon’s chest and sent a strong jolt through it.
Hercullon’s eyes glowed with the rod’s blue light. He returned a nasty grin. “Elf, I’m going to clobber you to death.” He swung.
Grey Cloak jumped away. “Zooks! Did you even feel that?”
“I did. It wouldn’t be the first time I felt a lightning bolt, and it won’t be the last.” Hercullon tried to kick his way out of Dyphestive’s grasp. “Let go of me, young fool!”
“Hercullon, please listen. Take this potion.” Dyphestive revealed the vial. “Hear our thoughts. Hear Sandal’s. We aren’t lying.”
“A potion?” Hercullon’s forehead creased. “You jest. Barbarians don’t dabble in magic. Any fool knows that.”
“On my life.” Dyphestive held it higher. “Take it. Then we’ll do as you wish. I’ll be your prisoner. But I won’t fight you any longer. We are right. You are wrong.”
Hercullon gave Grey Cloak a wary look. “And you’ll surrender as well?”
Grey Cloak swallowed. “I’d rather not, but I stand by my brother.”
“Let me have it.” Hercullon dropped his clubs, took the potion, gave it a suspicious look, and twisted off the seal. He poured the contents on the ground. “Fools! What sort of barbarian do you take me for? Guardians!” He bellowed like thunder. The ancient banners hanging from the rafters shook. “Guardians!”
No one came.
Hercullon raised a brow. “They’ll be here.” He walked over to a stone bench, grabbed a towel, and wiped his face. He placed his hand on his knee and studied the brothers. “I’m disappointed.” He drank from a bucket sitting on the floor and wiped the water from his beard. “I knew
this day would come. The walls would collapse. The wolves would attack. Good men are undone,” he muttered.
A dozen guardians rushed into the training arena. They formed a half circle of spears around the blood brothers.
“You would be wise to surrender peacefully.” Hercullon drained the bucket. “My guardians won’t hesitate to kill you.”
Grey Cloak and Dyphestive lifted their hands over their heads.
“We gave our word.” Dyphestive gave Hercullon one long last look. “It is good. It always has been. But I can’t say the same about—”
“Silence!” Hercullon punched the stone bench, breaking the corner off. “Take them away!”
The blood brothers both wound up sitting inside a different cell with bars twice as thick as the one Dyphestive had been in before. This time, the guards were tripled. The brothers sat across from one another with their wrists and legs in irons.
“That plan was an epic failure.” Grey Cloak put his head between his knees. “I mean, you handed him the potion, and he poured it out. That might have been the most astonishing thing I’ve ever seen. I thought you would try to hold him down and feed it to him. What were you thinking?”
“I thought he might believe me,” Dyphestive said. “When I looked into his eyes, I saw doubt. Not in us, but in Sandal. He wanted to believe us. I know it.” He shook his fists. The chains rattled. “I’m a fool!”
“Quiet in there!” Mauk beat the bars with a club. “I hope I’m the one who takes your heads from your shoulders. You’ll pay for what you did.”
“Why don’t you sleep it off, Mauk? You’re good at that,” Dyphestive said.
Grey Cloak brightened. “Good one, brother. I like hearing that sort of fire from you.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Dyphestive’s head dropped. “What are we going to do?”
“We can only do what we can do,” Grey Cloak said in whisper. “We tried. But this place is lost. We need to escape. Agreed?”
Dyphestive gave a reluctant nod. “Agreed.”
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 7
