“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard for me to put a finger on it. He just has.”
“Do you believe he means us harm or has ulterior motives?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just keep an eye on him for now. In the meantime, if either one of us finds out anything, we’ll inform the other.”
Rustic was in the process of agreeing when Clay suddenly appeared.
“Did you see Gilex?” Utar asked him.
Clay shook his head.
“Good night,” Utar said and left.
On his way back, he passed Gilex’s tent again. This time, he noticed footsteps trailing off toward the north. Activating a glow rock, he headed off in that direction.
****
Brim’s fever returned that night stronger than before. Broc, who was keeping watch over his childhood friend, immediately began working on him after seeing him stir. Halfway through the treatment, he ran out of special herbs and knew that, without them, the hand of death would be upon Brim by morning. He grabbed the knapsack and woke Perahn, who slept soundly a few feet away, and explained the dire situation he was now facing.
“Let me help you,” Perahn said, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.
“I need you here in case his condition worsens. If it does, I need you to give him these special berries.” Broc handed them to Perahn. “They will either kill him or the infection. Don’t hesitate to use them, because if you give it to him too late, he’ll die for sure. There’s another reason why I need you here, in case Gilex returns.”
“What do you want me to tell him?” Broc’s eyes narrowed.
“Let him know about Brim’s situation. Tell him that I’ll be right back and not to worry.”
“You know that’s not going to be good enough.”
“Just do it!” Broc pleaded.
After Perahn finally agreed, Broc left the tent, grabbed a torch, and trailed off into the night. He knew that if Gilex or Utar found out he went alone, there would be some serious consequences to pay; not because he left camp, but because of his poor fighting skills.
Traveling in the dense forest at night wasn’t an easy task for the young tracker, but Utar’s skills and training would prevail this night as he continued to follow the footprints and broken branches along the way. A short time later, he discovered a faint light source emitting from up ahead. It didn’t appear to be a fire, but it looked more like a light shining through a grayish, smoky substance. Utar crept closer until he saw a lone hooded figure, dressed in black robes, with his back turned toward him and his arms raised high into the air. The stranger was shrouded within the smoky substance. Utar moved closer to the individual, who was now chanting in some strange language that was foreign to his ears.
“Who are you?” Utar shouted and then removed two daggers from their sheaths.
When there was no response, he waited for several seconds before speaking again.
“Identify yourself?”
Without warning, the smoke suddenly dissipated and the individual turned around.
Broc found the healing herbs a little more than a half-mile from camp and picked them carefully, trying not to damage them in the process. Bent down and preoccupied, he barely felt the needle prick the back of his neck. A burning sensation followed, which he recognized at once.
“Poison,” he gasped in alarm.
Scrambling to his feet, Broc turned around, wanting to reach for his mace, but he was struck in the head by a blunt object with enough force that threw him back several feet. Bloodied, dazed, and confused, he managed to stagger to his feet just in time to be bludgeoned again. This time the blow knocked him out.
He dreamt of his wife sitting on a log by their favorite stream. The sky was clear, and the birds chirped in the distance.
“I love you,” She said and turned away. “You shouldn’t have gone.”
“Gone where?” he asked.
“Why are you leaving me?”
“I’m not leaving you. I am right here?” he responded, confused.
“I’ll miss you now and forever. Please come...”
His eyes suddenly snapped opened to the echoing sound of her voice...Blood trickled down his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision. He realized that his hands and feet were bound. Struggling against his restraints, he heard someone say, “Look, he still moves.”
Footsteps followed, and then, without warning, everything went black.
****
Utar stepped into the clearing, staring in amazement at his friend.
“Hello, Utar,” Gilex said and closed the tome that he held aloft. “What brings you out this fine evening?”
“What are you doing?” Utar asked suspiciously, all the while leaving his hands on his sheathed daggers.
Gilex panned down until his eyes fell upon Utar’s hands. “You seem so tense. There is no need for that.”
“What is that book?”
“This? It’s our salvation.” Gilex’s eyes turned fiery red as they locked gazes with his lieutenant.
Over the next few moments, Utar was stricken with dread and couldn’t move, then it suddenly passed. He unsheathed his daggers, holding them in front of his body.
“Tell me what you’re doing?” Utar demanded.
“Nothing of interest to you, now go back to bed.” After responding, Gilex’s eyes glowed even redder.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re doing.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know…or maybe you do.” Gilex smiled sinisterly. “Now put your daggers away before you get hurt,” Gilex calmly said and crept closer.
Utar was terrified and kept pace with each step, moving backward until he was up against a tree. Gilex stopped a mere foot from him. Utar’s mind raced with doubt, because he wasn’t sure what to do. Gilex was his friend; what if he had a good explanation for what he was doing? Utar was about to make up his mind when Gilex spoke.
“My friend, let me enlighten you with my affluence of knowledge.”
“You’re a different person than you were after we left the Cave of the Dead.”
“It’s still me.”
Utar was about to object, but Gilex cut him off.
“Would you like to know our real objective?”
Still clutching his daggers in an anxious posture, Utar regrettably answered, “Yes.”
“As you know, we are traveling to the Circle of Demise, but it’s not treasure or enchanted items we seek.”
“Then what is it?” Utar demanded.
“We’re going to release the Blood Knights from their eternal slumber.”
“You’re mad. They’re just a myth.”
“ARE THEY?” boomed Gilex in an imposing voice, which Utar had never heard before.
Fear and trepidation enthralled Utar’s body and soul. He could feel pure evil radiating from Gilex. He gripped his daggers so tight his knuckles turned white from the intensity.
“No, my boy, they’re not a myth. I have the Book of Blood, and the knights will seek our revenge. We can use them as long as we like, and, who knows, even rule this region. ”
In Utar’s heart, he knew that this being standing before him could no longer be his friend and decided to lunge at him. Instead of blocking or dodging, Gilex accepted every slash and stab his friend had to offer. When his attacks didn’t do anything, Utar paused, and Gilex laughed at him uncontrollably. Blood seeped out of his wounds and began to soak his robes.
“What are you? A demon?” Utar said, wide-eyed.
“This is only the…”
Gilex was interrupted when Utar plunged one of the knives into his side. Grunting in discomfort, Gilex reached down trapping Utar’s arm with his left arm and grabbing him by the throat with his right hand. The sudden and powerful grasp caused Utar to gag and drop the other dagger. Struggling against his might, Utar was forced to gaze deeply into his eyes. He became stricken with fear and went limp. Gilex laughed again and slammed Utar into the tree, rendering him unconscio
us.
****
Darkness was still upon the area when Utar woke. Trying to move proved futile, because he quickly realized that he was bound to a very thick, old tree. Wet blood dribbled down his face, blurring his vision. Dazed and somewhat confused, he tried to recall what had happened when footsteps approached directly in front of him.
“I’m glad you’re awake.”
Utar lifted his pounding head toward the voice, recognizing the owner immediately. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
“I still have use for your brave soul,” Gilex replied.
Utar’s eyes focused on his naked torso. The wounds he inflicted on him were all healed.
Gilex grinned. “Ah, yes! The wounds. One of the many benefits, my boy. This is just a fraction of the power they have to offer.”
“What are you talking about?” Utar asked.
“Why, the Blood Knights, of course,” Gilex said and tapped on the big book.
“You’re mad!”
“You’ll understand everything once I read the book to you.”
Panic set in as Utar began to struggle, but it was useless. His restraints were too tight.
“I’ll resist,” he snapped. Gilex snickered and opened the heavy tome.
“I resisted too,” Gilex said and began to read.
He recited page after page until a gray mist began swirling all around them. At first, the language was foreign to Utar’s ears, but after a short time, he understood every word.
****
Perahn awoke at dawn realizing he must have dozed off during his watch. He looked around only to discover Broc was nowhere to be found. Turning his attention toward Brim, he noticed his friend’s face was ashen in color. Perahn knew right away that he was losing his battle and decided to have him ingest the berries in hopes that they would somehow cure him.
“Why hasn’t Broc returned?” he murmured. “It didn’t make any sense, especially with Brim’s condition.”
Panic-stricken, he raced out of the tent to seek help and spotted Rustic, who was returning from his daily workout routine.
“What is it, Perahn?” Rustic asked as he saw the young tracker running up to him.
“Broc hasn’t returned yet.”
“What do you mean yet?” he snapped angrily. “When did he leave camp?”
“Sometime in the early morning hours,” Perahn answered, feeling uneasy.
“Why did he go?”
“He needed herbs for Brim and said without them, he might not make it through the night.”
“He knows better than to go out without an escort, especially at night; it’s just too dangerous,” he raised his voice in disgust. “What direction did he go?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Not sure!”
Rustic frowned, a clear sign that he was still aggravated with the whole issue. “Go and find Clay and let him know that I went off to look for him. Also, tell him that if I’m not back in an hour to come looking for me.”
Perahn did as he was asked and left.
Rustic searched feverishly around the camp until he found Broc’s footprints leading toward the south, then he raced off. Having excellent vision and tracking skills, he easily followed them until he arrived at a place that appeared to have had recent activity. Bushes were trampled upon, branches were broken, and high grass was bent and stepped on. He was about to continue when he noticed a patch of grass, several yards away, which clearly had the imprint that someone might be lying there. Thinking of Broc, he panicked and raced over. To his relief, there wasn’t a body, just blood, many booted footprints leading further south, and Broc’s most treasured possession a few feet away; his jewel encrusted dagger. The family heirloom was still sheathed, indicating that he was taken by surprise and dropped it.
“Cowards!” He spat and picked up the weapon, placing it securely in his belt. “They will pay. I swear,” he said and ran toward the south at a faster pace.
****
His search lasted for another two miles when he finally came upon an area with a large smoldering fire pit with strange-looking meat strung over its length. To the far end was a lone human he recognized as Broc, tied upside down to a tree. His lifeless body was missing his armor and his white shirt, stained crimson red with blood, was torn to shreds along with his brown leggings. Rustic released his two-handed ax from across his back, scanned the area for obvious signs of a trap, and slowly walked over to investigate the horror scene. The smell of death filled his nostrils the closer he crept. By the time he reached the tree, the stench overpowered him, causing his stomach to lurch forward and his eyes to water. Wiping away the tears, he looked down at his companion with a great sadness. His eyes were missing, and his hollowed-out stomach was sliced opened wide enough so that the skin was pulled back and pinned against the tree. Broc’s arms and legs were twisted, broken, and shattered, and his blood covered the tree down to the base. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached from the east. Rustic, knowing that escape was nearly impossible, took a deep breath and addressed them without turning around.
“I guess that I won’t have to look very far for my friend’s killers.”
His loud voice took them by surprise and halted their progress. Rustic turned around. Standing before him, spread out like a fan, were fifteen large, muscular wolf creatures of different shapes and sizes with the largest standing nearly seven feet tall. They were clad in leather armor from head to toe and wielded various weapons. They stared down their long snouts at the smaller human.
The tallest wolf spoke. “What do you want, human?”
“Are you responsible for what happened to my friend?”
Rustic bravely made his question more of a statement. The creatures began to surround him.
“You shouldn’t have come looking for him, HUMAN,” another said. The fantasy gave way to the reality of the situation for Rustic as his chest started to constrict. Never in his life had he faced odds of this magnitude alone, and he knew that the odds of him living through this encounter were slim at best.
Gathering what remained of his courage, and knowing that he may not see another sunrise, he made a statement that was more of a promise than a threat. “You may kill me, but I guarantee that most of you will die along with me today.”
The creatures arrogantly snickered in response and continued to surround him. Rustic’s mind raced, trying to gauge his next move. He knew if they managed to complete circling him, a quick death was a foregone conclusion, so he did the only thing that made sense to him. He attacked.
In a move that took them by surprise, Rustic flung three two-inch daggers at the leader, hitting him in the chest, throat, and head. The big wolf grunted in surprise. His followers turned and stared at him in disbelief as their leader fell to the ground dead. Rustic then hurled his remaining six daggers randomly at the group, killing three more as the tiny but deadly weapons found their mark. Chaos followed, and Rustic moved toward the left, killing two more wolf creatures before redirecting a sword thrust and then bringing his mighty ax down upon the wolf’s head, splitting it like a ripe melon. Five of the eight remaining wolf creatures charged the tracker. Instead of waiting for them, Rustic moved to his right to engage the ones there. During his charge, he was pelted with a few long needles that pricked his skin after passing through the chainmail links and cloth gambeson. Rustic ignored the intense burning sensation and met their assault with resolve by blocking, ducking, and parrying their attacks. He was wounded several times before severing one assailant’s head and rolling out of the way to avoid a spear thrust. The wolf creatures tried to overrun their adversary, but to their surprise, he was on his feet again and deflected an arcing ax aimed for his head. Rustic ducked under another attack and brought his ax down upon the creature’s leg, shearing the limb off at the thigh.
Another wolf creature raced over and sliced Rustic twice across the back, thinking these strikes would finally slay the human. He found out the hard way when his sword slashes were ineffective agai
nst the chainmail links and the human whipped his body around, bringing his ax upward, and catching him in the groin. The creature howled in pain, and then was pummeled in the face with the ax handle and knocked unconscious. Finally, the combination of fatigue, poison from the needles, and the loss of blood from his wounds were taking their toll on the tracker warrior. His breathing became erratic, and his ax felt heavier with each passing swing. The wolves noticed his condition and rushed him together. Rustic fought off two more wolves and killed another before his vision blurred and he missed an easy block and was struck in the right arm by a war hammer. The impact sent him sprawling to the ground exhausted and winded. Three wolf creatures then immobilized him by stepping on his limbs. He could smell their foul stench and turned his head in disgust.
“Human, like your friend you will die today, but in a much more painful way,” one of the wolf creatures said and knelt down close to his face.
Rustic spat in his face. The creature growled as the spittle dripped off his nose, then he stood up and raised his sword over his head, ready to strike. Rustic tightly closed his eyes, waiting for the end, but instead he heard a gargling noise from above, which was followed by wetness on his face. His eyes snapped opened to the sight of a small javelin jutting out of the wolf creature’s neck and his blood spraying in all directions. The creature grabbed his throat, dropped to his knees and then fell on top of Rustic, pinning him beneath his weight. Someone saved my life, he thought and moved his head enough to peer out from underneath the heavy body.
Instead of seeing his companions, he saw a well-built stranger, dressed in dark green and white clothes, fighting without weapons. The three wolf creatures charged after the new threat, believing him to be an easy target, but to their surprise, the stranger moved quicker than they did. He easily pushed aside their weapons, hitting the closest wolf with an open-palm strike to his chest, crushing his sternum and sending him to the ground with a thud. The stranger’s next victim didn’t fare any better. After deflecting his weapon, he hit the wolf creature on top of his head with another open palm. The attack was quick and precise and crushed his skull and neck, killing him instantly. The remaining wolf creature tried to escape, but the stranger cut him off and struck his left shoulder, then the right, breaking his collarbones. The wolf creature howled in pain until the stranger landed a death strike to his head.
A Demon's Quest the Beginning of the End the Trilogy Box Set Page 2
