“We should return fire.”
“Not yet.” The Tesserarius’ stare made Santon freeze momentarily. “We need them to think we’re defenseless and draw them in, now get back to your post and wait.”
Santon nervously returned to his post, wondering if Notor knew what he was doing.
****
Down below, the Red Knight’s patience finally gave out when the giants ran out of boulders and the walls and gates were still standing. He didn’t want to send in the beetles just yet, but what choice did he have, send in his men with the ladders and scale the wall? That would never work, they would be cut down before they even reached the top. He raised the horn to his lips and blew long and hard, creating a distinct sound. In unison, his troops moved out of the way and the War Beetles, mandibles snapping, took up position directly in front of them. The Red Knight used the horn again, and the beetles charged.
****
Notor was prepared for such an attack and signaled his men to ready the oil-filled caldrons and light the torches. Timing was crucial because releasing the oil too soon could give the beetles enough time to stop.
“Sir, when should we pour the oil?” a young Milite to his left asked.
“Hold fast!” Notor barked.
“But they’re almost upon us.”
“HOLD.”
When they were less than twenty feet from the gates, Notor gave the command to empty the enormous cauldrons over the wall. The black slimy residue splashed all over the ground, causing the War Beetles to slip and slide momentarily. Notor ordered his men to throw the torches. The oil ignited and flames quickly engulfed the area and the beetles. The creatures writhed about, letting out a hideous screech, which brought cheers from the defenders and a smile to Notor’s face, thinking victory was theirs. Their joyfulness faded when the beetles did something unexpected. One burrowed its way back underneath the ground to extinguish the flames, while another snapped its mandibles, shrieked a deafening sound, and with a final effort, rammed the gates. The impact breached the doors, but, in doing so, killed the beetle and left its burning husk protruding halfway through the entrance. Notor shouted orders for the men to extinguish the flames, hoping that they would do so in time.
Chapter 5: The Town of Waisterner
It was nearing nightfall when Torhan regained consciousness. He found himself lying flat on his back and staring up into a thick canopy of trees. He lay there for a few minutes collecting his thoughts, then slowly climbed to his feet. His muscles ached with every effort, and his head began to throb.
The area was quiet and the scent of something foul drifted from the north. It smelled like something burnt, he thought. He began to feel nauseous and needed to lean against a tree for support. While waiting for the feeling to subside, he took note of the silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand, the short sword around his waist, the scabbard and dagger tied to his left arm, and the crested gambeson he was wearing. The clothing was dirty, torn in certain places, and blood stained the front. The crest he recognized from the town of Redden, but he had no recollection of being in the military, or where he was, or the events that ended with him on his back, or even his name.
After the wave of queasiness subsided, he surveyed the area and saw a rope ladder a few feet from a stonewall toward the right. It was snuggled underneath a few broken tree branches. He walked over, moved the branches out of the way, and picked up the ladder. One end of the rope was frayed, and most of the steps were broken. Wondering if he fell, he looked up and saw the other half of the steps dangling from the top of the battlements. He checked the back of his head and felt a big lump and knew his answer. He tried to remember but couldn’t. It was then he saw a pouch a few feet away and picked it up. He was sure it was his because of its location and it didn’t look weathered. Inside, he found a precious gem, a tinder box with enough flint and firesteel to start several fires, twenty gold and platinum pieces, and a note. He learned many things from the note, including his name, which was Torhan; he was accused of murdering someone and stealing a few items; he stayed with a person named Grappin, who helped him escape and wanted him to find the priest in Mirkin, disable his wards, and bring back his sacred multi-colored beads.
After placing the note back inside the pouch, Torhan decided to reenter the town and speak with this Grappin person. Staying close to the wall, he cleared the trees and saw a horrific scene, which sent shivers down his spine. Dead bodies from many different races littered the ground, and the charred remains of a War Beetle was stuck in the partially closed gates. He thought about entering the town to see what was going on, but decided it wasn’t safe and left the area.
After clearing the forest to the north, the temperature grew colder and Torhan felt warmth emitting from the ring.
“What is this?” he exclaimed and looked down at his finger. As the warmness continued to travel throughout his body, he wondered if this was the item he was accused of stealing.
Guided by the moonlight, Torhan walked throughout the evening until he grew tired and needed to rest. In the distance, he could see the outline of another wooded area. He stayed inside of the woods and picked a place to light a small fire. With his back against a tree, his eyelids grew heavy, and just as he was about to doze off, he got another surprise. The scabbard on his arm began to glow. Puzzled, he stood up and caught a glimpse of a shadowy form on all fours detaching from the trees and heading in his direction. It was still far enough away that he had time to hide behind a large rock and unsheathe his sword. Carefully, he peered around the boulder and saw the creature methodically moving in his direction. The scabbard’s glow intensified the closer it got. When the beast entered the area, it began to sniff the ground next to the fire. The creature was a full man in length with clawed elongated paws in the front and black, scaly skin that glistened from the firelight. The beast wrinkled its nose again and sniffed the air before turning its attention directly to Torhan. The creature snarled, revealing razor sharp teeth. Torhan knew that escape was impossible and stepped out, gripping the sword’s hilt with his right hand and the terzo part of the blade with the other.
The creature answered the challenge and charged. Torhan’s dagger flew from the scabbard, as if thrown by an invisible hand, and hit the creature in the shoulder, then stabbed it repeatedly. The attacks did not slow the beast. Torhan braced himself for the monster’s attack, which came when the creature leapt through the air. Torhan was a split second too slow as he missed stabbing the creature’s underbelly and was pinned to the ground under the weight of the beast. The dagger continued to protect its owner, while the creature clawed at his body. Torhan protected his face with one hand and kept hitting the beast with his sword. If he was doing any damage to it, he didn’t know. During the deadly assault, the creature’s sharp claws began shredding the studded gambeson. The dagger failed to stop the monster, despite the amount of blood it was losing, as Torhan felt its nails slice his stomach and chest. He realized he needed to do something or he was a dead man, so with a mighty effort he drew upon the last of his strength and turned to his left, pushing the creature off him. The animal was about to pounce again when the dagger finally hit a weak spot right in between the animal’s shoulder blades and caused it to turn around. Torhan seized the moment and rammed his sword into the creature’s side, piercing its heart. The beast howled, shook violently, and fell over dead. Torhan, winded and spent, climbed to his feet. The dagger returned to the scabbard, and the scabbard’s glow diminished until it ceased altogether, indicating he was safe.
Breathing heavy and staring down at the creature, he finally recognized the monster. It was called a Nyhtie, and, given its approximate size, he was lucky that it was just an adolescent. He returned to the fire and removed the armor and shirt underneath to examine his wounds more closely. Relieved that they were only surface scratches, he inspected the armor. Almost all the studs were missing, and the thick padding was sliced wide enough for the stuffing to seep through in several different plac
es. He doubted that it would hold up to another encounter like the one he’d just gone through, but decided it was better than nothing and put it back on. After sitting down in front of the fire with his sword unsheathed and within reach, he thought about the dagger and scabbard and how it glowed in warning and the dagger fighting all by itself. He was starting to believe that maybe he did steal the items, but something didn’t feel right about the act and killing the shop owner. He pondered these thoughts until his eyes grew weary and he fell asleep.
It was mid-morning when Torhan woke. The first thing he noticed was the body of the creature that he’d killed the night before was gone and many paw prints surrounded the area. He was thankful that whatever took the carcass left him alone. Despite his hunger, he searched around until he found a healing plant, stripped it clean of its stems, and used some of their gooey contents on his wounds. A nearby fruit tree would provide his breakfast and, while he was eating, he read the note again. Something didn’t feel right about his time spent in Redden, and it frustrated him not remembering. He decided, instead of going straight to Mirkin, it was better if he went north to the town of Waisterner to find out what he could about Priest Abiathar. He figured the Holy Order of the Hallowed would know something.
After gathering his belongings, he left the area and journeyed through open plains of Trint. Harsh cold winds and a light snow greeted him with every step and would’ve chilled him to the bone if not for the ring countering its coldness. As time passed and the temperature dropped further, the ring’s power diminished, which made Torhan wonder if the ring was losing its abilities. He picked up his pace and reached the forest directly ahead of him by nightfall. After taking a reassuring glance at the scabbard to make sure it wasn’t glowing, he entered the area and found a place to build a sanctuary. The shelter he’d chosen was set inside several large bushes, with exit points in the front and rear, and big enough to build a small fire. After gathering plenty of branches to seal himself in and light a fire, he removed the tattered armor, sat down, and rested. The fire felt warm and comforting against his skin. As he rubbed his hands over the flame, the ring did something unexpected and started glowing deep red as if it would soon be searing hot. Torhan felt the band. It was cool to the touch.
After a couple of minutes, the ring turned back to its original color of black onyx and started warming his hands.
“So the ring needs fire to recharge,” he said and yawned.
Feeling tired, he made a pillow out of the guard’s uniform, lay down, and watched the flickering flames dance before his eyes. It didn’t take long for their hypnotic pattern to welcome him into a restful slumber.
Morning arrived quicker than expected. After dressing in the armor and extinguishing what was left of the fire, Torhan left the safety of the shelter and marched into several inches of snow. He couldn’t wait to reach town and get a hot meal and warm bed, two things he should have by tomorrow night.
By midday, snow and ice fell in heavy sheets, and the temperature dropped below freezing. Although the ring was keeping him warm, Torhan decided to seek shelter and wait out the storm.
After another hour, his visibility became severely restricted, the ring’s power began to dissipate, and the wind gusted hard enough to impede his movement. He was about to turn westward and walk with the wind when he caught sight of a large cave opening. He wasn’t sure if it was abandoned or not, but given his circumstances he didn’t have much of a choice.
He listened for a while. When the only sound came from his own heavy breathing, he deemed it safe and entered. He lit a fire from the scattered branches, removed his wet boots and armor and placed them by the fire, then waved his hand close enough to the flames to recharge the ring.
For several hours, Torhan kept close to the fire while his things dried. From where he was, he could tell the cave traversed further than the eye could see. He decided to go exploring after his belongings were dry. His decision to investigate was based on a couple of things; it would give him something to do until the intense storm passed, and he’d hope to find some items that might have been left behind by unwary travelers. An hour later, Torhan’s clothes and boots were dry enough to wear, and he was ready to explore. With a lit branch in one hand, and his sword in the other, he went to the back of the cave and followed it downward into pitch-blackness. The path led him down for a while until it leveled off into a big area with stalactites hanging from the ceiling, dripping water onto the floor, which created a rhythmic sound with each droplet. Deeper in the cavern he began to notice large holes all along the sides of the walls, which made him think they were created by someone or something instead of being a natural part of the cave. Quietly, he walked over to the right side and held the torch several inches inside.
The first thing he noticed was the hole was carved out by claws. However, it did not indicate that it was done recently. Peering further inside, he saw that the tunnel was big enough that if he’d squatted down he could enter, and he did so cautiously. It was long, and a little cramped, moving through the hole. When Torhan finally reached the end, it opened up to a large circular room. Holding the torch aloft, he saw a huge pile in the middle of the room, which consisted of weapons, armor, shields, torn backpacks, amulets, glass bottles, and coins, lots of coins. After taking it all in one more time, and checking his scabbard for danger, he steadily moved into the area and began walking toward the center. After reaching the pile, he was about to bend down and start taking his fill when he heard snoring just off to his left, causing him to freeze for several seconds. Glancing slowly over in that direction, he caught sight of the cave’s owner sleeping and realized what it was, the legendary creature known as a Racktoo.
The nasty monster was massive in size; at least four feet wide at its shoulders and twelve feet long, with three sets of claws in the front and two in the rear. There were rumors about their pelt being thick enough to ward off almost any weapon, and their claws and teeth being so sharp that they could puncture plate armor as if it were merely a piece of parchment. The beast was also known for being extremely quick, agile, easily agitated, and constantly looking for food, eating everything including bones. They hibernated during the winter, but he wasn’t sure how deeply they rested. He was a dead man if it woke, so he softly moved out of the room, leaving behind the treasure trove. After searching several other holes, he discovered the entire underground network was inhabited by more Racktoo and decided it was a good idea to leave the cave as soon as the storm passed.
When dawn arrived, the heavy snow was reduced to flurries, the gusty wind was basically nothing more than a cool breeze, and the sun was already warming the area. Torhan left the cave and continued toward the north. It took him until mid-afternoon of the next day to arrive at the outskirts of the town of Waisterner, where he ditched the uniform before entering.
The town was abuzz with a festival of sorts. There were jugglers and food stands; merchants selling weapons, clothing, and medicinal materials such as herbs and other strange brews. Torhan was famished and stopped at the first food stand he saw. He purchased a large roasted boar’s leg, a pint of ale, and several skewers of meat, which he gobbled down right away. With his belly satisfied, he continued along the fairgrounds, enjoying the sights and sounds of the children playing games and running around. It reminded him of his youth. After stopping a group of passersby for directions to the temple, he proceeded down several streets toward the eastern part of town. On three different occasions, the scabbard faintly glowed, warning him of a possible danger, but every time he looked around there was no one in sight. Uneasy, he burst into a full run to lose anyone watching him and came upon what looked like a place of healing. He walked up to the door and rapped on it several times. The door opened and a bold, fair-skinned, slender monk, wearing brown robes and sandals, blithely opened the door.
“Good day, what can I do for you?” he asked, glancing Torhan up and down.
“I’m in need of information.”
“I see. Wha
t sort of information do you need from us?”
“Can we talk inside?” Torhan looked around nervously.
“I’ll ask again. What do you need?” the monk pressed.
“I need some information about the priest in Mirkin.”
“Why come here?” the monk asked suspiciously.
“I figured your Order would know about him.”
The monk studied him for several long seconds. “State your name and where you hail from.”
“My name is Torhan...” he paused. “Pardon me, but why do you need to know where I’m from?”
“It’s just out of politeness.”
“You’re right. I hail from the town of Redden.”
“My name is Brother Pien, and you have come to the Order of the Hallowed. Before entering you must obey our rules. Weapons are not permitted beyond the vestibule, and any acts of aggression will be dealt with by our rules of discipline. Do you agree?”
Torhan nodded and the monk officially allowed him to enter.
Two monks, dressed similar to Brother Pien, greeted Torhan as soon as he entered and blocked his path from going any further. He handed over his weapons and allowed them to search him. Once they were satisfied he wasn’t armed, they left. Torhan followed Brother Pien down a long hallway, passing several rooms, including a large dining hall and a practice area, which caused Torhan to pause.
Brother Pien paused as well. “It’s almost time for the novices to train; do you want to watch?”
Torhan loved to study different professions as they trained and would secretly gauge their skills against his to rate his worth. “Yes, I would,” he said, barely holding back his excitement.
“Then come with me.” Brother Pien led him up a flight of stairs and through a set of double doors to a seating area above the training room. “Have you ever seen any of our students outside of these walls?”
A Demon's Quest the Beginning of the End the Trilogy Box Set Page 12
