Secrets of the Elders Kindle Version

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Secrets of the Elders Kindle Version Page 20

by David Matthew Almond


  “Logan!” the gnome was yelling from the other side. “Logan! Please tell me you are alright, friend!”

  “I hear you Bipp!” he had to shout, so the gnome could understand him through the thick pile of boulders that stood as a barrier between them, dividing the travelers.

  “Thank the gods man…I thought I lost you for sure there! Can you make it over the rockslide?” Bipp asked.

  “I don’t think so, left my rope back in Fal.” He replied, trying to see the top through the settling cloud of dust.

  Bipp waggled his fingers nervously in front of his face thinking of a solution. “You better head northeast, these tunnels meet back up. Your way is a little trickier though, lots of twisting channels to traverse. Going to have to keep heading north then east in that order as the turns come!” Bipp instructed, unable to see Logan nodding his head.

  “Got it, don’t worry about me. I’ll meet you on the other side!” he shouted back.

  “Be safe, friend!” Bipp replied. The gnome backed up from the wall and prepared to head into the northern tunnel. Spying a big fat leg of pig sticking out of the rubble beside him, he stopped and flicked out his small dagger licking his lips. “Looks like I got me some ham after all.”

  Chapter 15

  Waking from his slumber, Corbin decided it was time to find his brother’s trail again. Lady Cassandra had not had much opportunity to teach Corbin the psionic arts, but what little training they did have was spent focusing on his core skill, so much so that they had worked straight through the night. He did not want to worry Elise when they met at the Pale Gates and had no time when he first left Fal to rest. Outside the wall, Corbin did not need to rely on telepathic tricks to find his brother’s trail, he required only a short run to the area where Logan had last been spotted, and he easily found the site where the city watchmen had shot at his brother. The soil was scorched in black splotches where the soldiers had missed him.

  The flight from Fal was easy enough to follow, as Logan did not seem to be bothered with covering his tracks, which surprised Corbin not in the least. He had always been brash and cocky; then again, his assumption was probably that no one would even bother chasing after him into the wilds. Following the boot marks, broken twigs, and bent plants for some time, Corbin came to a small ethereal pond, where he completely lost the trail. This was as good a place as any for him to rest, so he climbed up a nearby tree trunk, and strapped the leather buckle of his belt around both his wrist and a nearby branch, this way if he began slipping while resting he would be tugged awake.

  However, now it was time to get on the move again, to close the distance Logan must have gained with his two-day head start. Balancing with the arches of his feet on separate branches and stretching out his back without moving them, he gave a light push down, followed by another, springing up from the limber branches high into the air, and spinning into a backward somersault, to land gingerly on his toes in the tall grass below.

  For some reason Logan’s trail had disappeared after stopping at this pond, all physical evidence of his movements ended after he lay in the grass by Corbin’s feet. Touching the Svalin on his ear, Corbin tried to fall into himself, as Lady Cassandra taught him the night before. It was not unlike the meditation his sensei had spent years mentoring, yet with a heightened sense of awareness to the world around. Sometimes when Corbin fell into a deep meditation, one that he completely drifted in over hours, it was as if his physical body were distant.

  This was something other than that. It was more like his corporeal form was a tuning fork, sensitive to the psychic energy radiating from the world around, probing in the darkness for a point of light that revealed some sentient semblance of a living creature, the energy rippling over the landscape in waves. Lady Cassandra compared it to the way a bat sent out sounds, hearing them bounce off objects to tell it where to go. She said that would be a good way for him to begin, being a novice in the skills of psionicism.

  “Watch Out!”

  Corbin was shocked to his core, as if someone had just jolted his body with energy. Acting on instincts alone, he threw his body into a defensive crouch, rolling in a sideways spin and springing to his feet with his polearm waving in front of his body to block the unknown threat. If he had not moved with such alacrity, the massive cait that pounced the spot where he had been would surely have killed him with ease. Instead, its muzzle was snapping at air, as the beast confusingly thought he had slipped into the dirt below.

  Corbin used this momentary advantage to stab the monstrous smooth skinned feline hard in its flank. The voulge was much heavier than he was used to wielding, Lady Cassandra had told him fighting in the wilds with a spear was akin to suicide. “You need a nice solid piece of Falian steel in your hands out there,” she had said. The weapon was considerably different than his spear, made of a solid steel staff the size of his body, with a long curved blade at the top. Unfortunately, not being accustomed to the weight of this new weapon resulted in his strike being no more than a flesh wound.

  The upper hand was gone, and the cait roared its defiance, baring large razor sharp tusks that dripped with saliva and double rows of matching incisors running all the way to the back of the predator’s jaw. Its muscular body tensed, as talons lashed out fiercely for his midsection. Corbin used the voulge as a pole vault, coming recklessly close to the curved blade on his way up, before another backflip brought him out of reach. No sooner did his toes touch the ground than the beast moved in again, for another slash, but this time he was prepared, deftly dodging on the balls of his feet to the side and jabbing in, to sting the back of the monster’s paw.

  Not waiting for it to bring in another attack, he raced away while the cait pursued, lashing out as it ran after him, and coming extremely close to nipping his calves. He knew that to slow for even a fraction of a second could mean his death. Lured into his trap, the cait slammed hard into the trunk of the tree Corbin had run straight up, flipping onto the beast’s back and straddling it like a horse. From this vantage point, he meant to dig the voulge down deep into the beast’s neck.

  “BEHIND YOU!”

  This time the warning came with a flickering image, in his mind’s eye, of the monster’s tentacle-like tail stinging him. Understanding Baetylus’ warning, Corbin spun around, still straddling the beast as it quickly recovered. In an angry frenzy from being tricked by the prey again, the cait whipped twin tails at his head. He blocked the oncoming assault with his weapon weaving left then right. The cait bucked hard to throw him off its back, but Corbin’s legs were gripping it like a vice. Again the tentacles came in for a sting, this time changing tactic to grab for his weapon, wrapping snakelike appendages around the voulge and yanking back hard. Corbin did not let go of his weapon, as he knew to do so would mean game over for him, and instead used the momentum to throw himself into the air. Letting go with one hand, he flicked open the wrist blades Fafnir had given him, and tore right through the spike-covered tips, sheering them both clean off the beast’s body.

  How it howled then, with bright green blood gushing out of the gaping wounds. The beast was senselessly enraged now, falling on its back, and desperately rubbing against the dirt, as if it could somehow wipe away the pain. Standing firmly on the ground where he landed, Corbin threw the voulge like a spear, digging deeply into the dangerous creature’s belly, where it gashed a hole large enough for the monster’s insides to spill out across the soil. The cait howled for its sisters, letting off a death rattle of agony deep into the night.

  Confident that the stalking beast was slain, Corbin bent down to hold his knees and catch his breath. Adrenaline still coursed through his body, leaving him shaking from the deadly encounter. Falling to his knees, Corbin gave a prayer of thanks to his god for warning of the danger.

  “THE WILDS ARE DANGEROUS MY SON. BE EVER VIGILENT, THERE IS MUCH YET TO BE DONE.”

  “Blessed All-Father, your gifts are many, I rejoice in your path.” He intoned, feeling the Crystal
’s presence slip away, leaving him alone, cold and sweating in the dirt. Opening his eyes, Corbin could see a faint wisp of blue smoke trailing into the outcropping of trees past the radiant pool of water. He understood Baetylus was giving him another gift, pointing in the direction of his wayward brother.

  Retrieving his weapon, Corbin searched the area and found there were indeed tracks here to follow, but they were not Logan’s. They were too light for his brother and the gait was wider. Someone had come through here recently, maybe not his older brother, but someone the All-Father wanted him to find just the same. He followed them, thinking the tracks were sure, straight and true, this man had known exactly where he was going. Soon enough Corbin crossed the chasm, using the makeshift log bridge and caught the scent of burning wood on the breeze, so that coming around the bend to see a camp was no surprise.

  Three men were going about their business; one of them stripping the meat off a cait that hung to the side of his tent. The other was working to get bandages tied around his companion’s arm, while he himself wore stripped rags, wrapped tightly about a bloody stump that used to be a leg.

  “Ho there.” Corbin announced himself, stepping into the camp with arms raised so as to not frighten the wounded men. The large man stopped his work butchering the cait, switching to a defensive posture with a dagger in hand.

  “Rest easy wilders, I mean you no harm.” He ordered.

  “Ah, a guest!” Maxwell invited him into the camp with all the usual rigmarole, seating him by the fire. He explained how the camp had been ambushed by two caits, one of them taking his foot for a snack. Corbin offered his assistance, tending to the men’s gory appendage with some of the provisions he brought for the journey.

  “Is it normal for them to attack you here in the camp?” Corbin wondered, it did not seem like the men would be able to last long enough to build the place if monsters like the cait were common.

  “The wild lands offer many dangers, wanderer, you can never tell just what might happen from day to day.” The man replied, he was acting slightly deranged from the poppy milk he had been sipping to numb the pain.

  Still, it was interesting to Corbin how the man evaded his questions. His intuition whispered that some of the wounds seemed to look different than he would have expected to come from the wild predators.

  “USE YOUR GIFT, MY SON.” Baetylus whispered in his mind.

  Sitting back beside the fire, Corbin made a show of rubbing his hands to warm them, slipping into the psionic plane, he stared deep into the embers that cast a dancing warmth over his face. Concentrating, his mind probed Wart, who took over the work of gutting the captured cait, circling around the man’s psyche searching for an opening. Reaching into the swirling thoughts, he caught a glimpse of the beasts attack on the camp, followed by Bruno charging in to save his leader. A myriad of visions floated in the fog of the man’s recent thoughts, before one starkly demanded his attention. It was an image of Logan fighting the men! Corbin instantly recoiled, loosening his grip on the man’s thoughts. Maxwell noticed the flinch and sat up, nodding to Bruno who was stalking behind him.

  “What troubles you, friend…you look like ye just seen a ghost then, eh?” the man asked him.

  Corbin did not respond, shaking his head before speaking. “Think I nodded off for a second there, it has been a long day.” A lie followed by a truth.

  The man watched him with an excited gleam in his eyes that Corbin had not noticed before. His eyes darted around the camp taking in the big picture. One of the tables was covered with many things, and also stained in blood, and the crates by the side of the main tent were also stained red as well. He could smell the stink of Bruno moving in closer behind him, drawing a long curved blade.

  “True enough, it has been a long day; you just warm up beside our fire and make yourself at home, wanderer.” Maxwell cooed.

  Corbin punched his hand hard into the air behind him, his gauntlet blade flicking like the tongue of a snake, running straight through Bruno’s throat. In the same fluid movement, he spun to stand behind the dead man, using his body as a pincushion for Maxwell’s fired crossbow bolt. Pulling the blade out, he heaved Bruno’s limp body on top of Maxwell, burying the crippled man under the lifeless weight.

  Wart moved in hard, screaming in a high-pitched snarl, and cutting his skinning knife through the air in wide lunges that Corbin easily danced around. Bringing his wrist blade across, the man’s hand was severed clean from his body and before he could even scream out in pain, Corbin spun around sheering his boil-covered head off with one mighty swipe of his voulge.

  Maxwell had freed himself from under Bruno’s dead weight, scrambling to crawl away from the scene toward his tent. Corbin ran over to stomp his foot down hard on the man’s back, pinning him in place. “Argh!” he howled in pain, wetting himself in the dirt.

  “What did you do with my brother, dog?!” Corbin demanded.

  “Didn’t do nothing…” he was cut off by Corbin’s heel grinding deeper, twisting the man’s lies into another scream of agony.

  “I know he was here, don’t even try lying! Where is my brother? Tell me now!” Corbin snarled at the disgusting cannibal.

  “Okay…okay... just, please… just stop. I’ll tell you.” Maxwell rasped.

  “Now.” He ordered the man.

  “He came here and attacked us in the night, never even saw him enter the camp, was with a little thievin’ gnome too. Argh… please stop, it’s the god’s truth…. we offered him a place to stay and he took ‘vantage of our generosity…” Maxwell fumbled for his lies.

  “Do you even hear yourself… you honestly think I would fall for these fabrications?” Corbin asked, truly dumbfounded at the extent of the man’s corruption.

  “It’s the Crystal’s honest truth, that’s why we tried to kill ye, could see you were his brother, ye look just like each other.” Maxwell lured him into the lie further, planting a seed of doubt that wriggled around his brain. Did he even really know his brother? The All-Father himself had shown him an image of Logan killing the man in New Fal and warned his brother was putting the entire kingdom in danger.

  Corbin slammed the pommel of his polearm down on the man’s spine, shutting him up. Reaching back, he unlatched the Svalin from around his earlobe, releasing a flood of thoughts that assaulted his mind, images fluttered past like crows across his skull. As he had suspected, these men killed many victims in the wild lands, they were cannibals that fed off newly exiled Falians. He saw them try to kill Logan, in vain, and watched as his brother bested them and escaped to the north with a freed gnome.

  Reaching up, he latched the Svalin back in place, warding off the onslaught of psychic energy, the pain lingering as a dull ache against his throbbing forehead. Maxwell had scurried away from him while he was in the trance and sat propped up beside his tent, aiming a crossbow directly at Corbin’s head.

  “Don’t know what kind a demon magic ye trying to pull here wanderer, recommend it’s time you leave ‘fore I have to put you down.” Maxwell’s hands trembled as Corbin walked toward him with no fear. “I’m tellin’ ye it best be time to leave, boy!” he insisted louder, phlegm frothing from the corner of his dried lips. Corbin stepped forward again, with a click the bolt skimmed past his cheek, grazing it just enough to leave a thin red line. He grimaced at the cannibal leader and buried the head of his voulge deep into the man’s chest.

  “May the All-Father have mercy on your sinful soul.” He intoned as the light faded from the man’s eyes.

  Corbin stood silent for a while, the night breeze whipping his long hair across his face, taking in the scene of carnage he had just unleashed. He had never killed another man, never even imagined there would be a time in his life where it would be necessary. Yet he had dispatched these wretches without even a second thought. The weight of the world, the weight of the past couple weeks, came crashing down heavily on his soul.

  Weakly falling to his knees, Corbin Walker we
pt into the night.

  Logan felt as though he had been walking in circles for days now. He knew, in reality, it could only have been hours ago since Bipp and he had been separated, but paranoia was kicking in hard. He was not sure if it was the lack of oxygen in these smaller tunnels, or just the cramped feeling of rock closing in on him, that set his mind racing. Logan never saw tunnels like this in the expanse of New Fal, where the cavern soared high enough to fit entire mountain ranges and then some.

  After about an hour of walking, the burrows began to close in so low he could reach up and feel the cold, damp, rocky ceiling. With each turn onto a new path, he hoped the tunnel would open back up, but instead the walls were closing in tighter and tighter the deeper he traveled.

  At every fork he took out a lodestone, dangling it on a string, and went either north or east, well except for the one split, that one went both directions so he decided north trumped.

  That was hours ago and now he had to admit to himself that he might actually be lost, but stubbornly pressed on instead, refusing to be defeated by some dark tunnels. Besides, he was really looking forward to seeing Dudje, Bipp’s hometown, and trying some of the scrum mead the gnome kept going on about. Pangs of sorrow racked him, thinking on Riverbell, lost forever to him.

  “Isn’t this just my luck?” He wondered. “Finally go and do something Morgana could be proud of and where does it get me? Exiled from the kingdom!” Logan snorted to himself. It would be the last time he made that mistake… literally, since he could never go back.

 

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