“No they won't,” Alena nodded. “After all, only a fool would come here.”
“Well that's a comforting thought,” Paul chuckled.
“Oh,” Sarrac said, turning his gaze to Alena, “and we better use scent just in case.”
“You're right,” she sighed.
Having said this she drew a small vial from her bag and handed it to Paul.
“Put a little of that on your boots,” she said.
“Alright,” he replied, uncorking the vial and dripping a few drops on each boot. “Enough?”
“More than enough,” she said with a slight grimace.
Moments later the scent of rotting meat began to fill the air. It reminded Paul of the smell a skunk gets after it's been hit by a car and has spent a few days laying out in the summer sun of South Carolina.
“I can taste it,” he said, squinting his eyes and scraping him tongue across his top teeth.
“Well think about this,” Alena replied. “Ogres have a better sense of smell than humans do.”
“I'm so sorry.”
“We're used to it.”
“Either way, it's necessary,” Sarrac pointed out. “We certainly don't want any wandering undead picking up our scent and tracking us down.”
“Is that very likely?” the young man asked.
“Relatively,” Alena admitted. “That is to say: roaming undead are out here and we've got a ways to go. So, there's a fair chance at least one will run across our tracks before we get where we're going and back. However, now they'll just figure we're some other wandering monstrosity.”
“That's a plus,” Paul said.
“It is,” she agreed. “Now let's get going.”
The plain across which they were marching seemed covered in a gray dust that was much like ash. Every step they took stirred this powder and in mere moments, they were wrapped in a cloud of fine, bone dry particles. Paul was very glad of the cloth wrapped around his face, but sincerely wished for a pair of snow goggles.
For just over an hour they passed through this dust covered plain, until at last the landscape began to transform. Gray ash was slowly replaced by black rock, and finally they were able to breath freely again. Using very little water each of the companions removed the grime from their faces before continuing onward.
Their path led them into the hills where they soon came upon a shallow valley. The party made their way to the base of this dale, through which ran a wide paved road.
“Do undead not use roads?” Paul asked as they strolled along the thoroughfare.
“They do,” Sarrac replied.
“Ah,” the young man nodded. “Then isn't this a bad idea?”
“It would be if we weren't being careful,” Alena agreed.
“And how exactly are we being careful?”
“Well, to start with it's daytime,” she replied almost dismissively. “So the most deadly undead aren't going to be around.”
“What about liches?”
“Okay,” she replied. “You're right. We could theoretically run up on a lich during the day, but since the only one in this area is Myra the odds of that are pretty slim.”
“Then why were you worried about us getting spotted?”
“There are non-undead things that serve the undead,” she pointed out.
“Well then,” he continued, “we might run up on one of those on this road.”
“True,” she admitted. “But since most of the non-undead things are animals like birds and snakes we're no more likely to run up on them on the road then we are...”
Suddenly she froze, her eyes locked on something perhaps half-a-mile up the road.
“Hide!” she exclaimed under her breath, rushing for the road side.
Both her companions followed her example and the trio quickly made their way up one of the nearby hills where they crawled beneath a mass of dead and dying undergrowth.
“Thank the gods we were on a straight stretch of road,” Sarrac whispered.
“Do you think they saw us?” Paul asked with a tone of sincere concern.
“I doubt it,” Sarrac assured him, gazing down at their enemies. “It looks like a pack of ghouls. Their eyesight isn't nearly as good as ours.”
“Of course,” Alena said softly, “their sense of smell...”
As the companions watched, the pack of roughly twenty drew ever nearer. The moment the forerunners of this group reached the spot where the party had last stood they stopped. For seconds, which seemed like eons to the young man, they paused, apparently snuffing the air. Three of the gruesome band even went so far as to get down on their hands and knees and crawl along the road searching out the scent. Very quickly, however, they gave up this pursuit and continued once again along their previous path.
“Paul, I apologize,” Alena said as soon as the undead where out of sight. “You were right, and we can't afford to take any more shortcuts.”
“I agree,” Sarrac replied. “Still, the odds of us running up on a pack of ghouls here and now were incredibly, almost unbelievably, slim. I wonder where they're headed.”
“Somewhere else,” the young man replied. “And for the moment that's enough for me.”
“There's some truth in that,” Sarrac chuckled. “Either way, we have to follow the road. Even considering what just happened, it’s the fastest, and safest, route to where we're going. We just have to be exceptionally careful.”
Once again the party set out, but this time in a far more furtive fashion. They moved quickly down the very edge of the road, always mindful of where the nearest cover was. At every bend they would carefully creep ahead until they were certain nothing was moving along the next section of road. Although the travel itself was far easier than much of what Paul had already experienced in Zanoth, constantly being on edge made the endeavor truly exhausting.
At last, however, this ordeal was brought to an end. Roughly an hour before sunset the band left the road behind them and struck into the hills that rose to the west. As the last rays of the setting sun were beginning to vanish from the sky above, their destination suddenly came into view.
Paul had never seen anything quite like it. There, in the distance, an island of life stood completely surrounded by an ocean of death. On one side of what seemed to be an invisible line there was nothing but rock and dust, on the other was verdant green grass, blossoming flowers, and stately trees. It was such an obvious haven of life that the young man unconsciously burst into a run the moment he realized what it was.
His companions immediately followed his example, laughing at his obvious excitement. As soon as Paul reached the tall luxurious grass he collapsed in it. Up until that moment he hadn't realized just how oppressive the dark lands were. It was as if all at once his soul had escaped the night and stepped out into the glowing light of dawn. Joy and laughter seemed to fill the place and he couldn't stop himself from rolling merrily around in the grass.
“This is the it?” a delicate female voice asked. “I thought he'd be more dignified somehow...”
Instantly Paul sat bolt upright. There, fluttering in the air just before his face, was a fairy. At least, that's what the young man felt it had to be. An aura of pale green light emanated from the creature's shapely feminine figure, which was covered in a short green dress and perhaps four inches tall. Her tiny face was undeniably beautiful, with full red lips and bright green eyes. Long silver hair ran down her back and seemed to flutter in the breeze generated by her wings.
“Well that's him,” Sarrac asserted.
“Not it isn't,” Alena replied.
“Well which is it?” the fairy asked, flying up to stare into one of Paul's eyes before moving to the other.
“Well he got The Blade,” Sarrac pointed out.
“That sounds very itish,” the fairy observed.
“Well he didn't take it from her hands,” Alena replied.
“That could be bad,” the fairy said. “If he dies you should take it back to her.”
�
��We will, Nyssa,” Alena assured her. “Oh, and don't speak fairy in front of Paul. He doesn't understand it.”
“That's an odd thing to say,” Paul chuckled.
“No it isn't,” she replied. “It's considered rude.”
“What's rude?” he asked.
“Taking in front of someone in a language they don't understand,” she explained. “Wasn't that rude on Earth?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But that still doesn't explain why you brought it up like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?”
“What?”
“Okay,” Paul sighed, rubbing his forehead. “What I'm asking you is: what broached the subject in the first place?”
“She was speaking fairy,” Alena answered, lifting her hands.
“No she wasn't,” Paul replied.
“Yes I was,” Nyssa nodded.
“No you weren't,” the young man said again.
“Oh right,” the fairy smiled. “Correct tense. I mean to say: yes I am.”
“Yes you are what?” Paul asked.
“Speaking fairy.”
“Wait a second,” Sarrac said, a confused look on his face. “Paul, do you speak fairy?”
“Of course not!” he laughed. “Are you insane? I don't even speak Spanish.”
“Yes you do!” the fairy replied.
“What makes you think I can speak Spanish?” the young man asked, shaking his head.
“I don't!” Nyssa laughed. “What would make you think that I did?”
“You just said I did,” he explained.
“What?” she replied flying a few inches back and gazing at him thoughtfully. “No I didn't.”
“I said: I don't even...” he began.
“Oh right!” she interrupted. “I meant: you do speak fairy.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Mainly the fact that you're speaking it now,” she giggled.
“No he's not, Nyssa,” Alena asserted. “But he clearly understands you.”
“Yes,” the fairy replied. “And I understand him and he's speaking fairy.”
“Is he?” Sarrac asked.
“Can't you hear him?” she asked with another giggle.
“Paul,” Sarrac said, turning his gaze to the young man. “Do you speak ogre?”
“I just told you,” the young man replied. “I don't even speak Spanish.”
As soon as he spoke Alena and Sarrac glanced at one another.
“What is it?” Paul asked.
“I heard ogre,” Sarrac replied.
“Me too,” Alena nodded.
“Weird!” Nyssa replied. “I heard ogre that time too!”
“Say something in common, Paul,” Alena said.
“What do you want me to say?”
“That is wild!” Sarrac said, a large smile spreading across his face. “Say something in fairy again!”
“Like what?”
“It seems you have the gift of tongues,” Nyssa smiled. “And that is very itish in my opinion! Unless, of course, you're lying and you do speak fairy and ogre...”
“Well I'm not lying,” he replied.
“Good,” she said with a nod. “Because lying is not itish at all!”
“How did I get the gift of tongues?”
“Who knows,” the fairy shrugged.
“It must be because you're the it,” Sarrac suggested.
“I don't think so,” Alena replied. “I bet it was part of the summoning spell that brought him here.”
“Both are possible,” Nyssa replied. “But how he got it doesn't really matter. The point is that he's got it.”
“I suppose that's true,” Alena replied, leaning back in the tall grass. “Either way, how long were you waiting on us?”
“Not long,” the fairy replied, flying once again up to Paul's face and carefully scrutinizing him. “A few days I guess.”
“Well I'm glad you're here,” Sarrac said. “Do you plan to come with us to the shrine?”
“Of course.”
“I was hoping you would,” he smiled. “So, we'll spend the night here and leave in the morning.”
“I've been thinking about that,” Paul said, his eyes soaking in the lovely image of the fairy fluttering before him. “And this place is safe right?”
“It's one of the few safe places left in Zanoth,” Alena replied. “Any undead that touch this ground will burst into flame, leaving nothing behind but nourishment for the plants that grow here.”
“I thought so,” the young man nodded. “And I don't know about you two, but I could use a little rest before we head out into that nightmare again. Why don't we spend tomorrow here and head out the next day.”
“I don't know...” Alena said.
“We could probably even fit in a few hours training,” Paul pointed out. “If I'm going to kill Myra I need all the practice I can get.”
“That's certainly true,” Sarrac agreed.
“Alright,” Alena nodded. “That is a good point. And the plain truth is that I'm pretty well exhausted myself.”
“Great,” Paul sighed. “And goodnight.”
Mere moments after the young man said this he was sound asleep, curled up in the long, soft grass. He awoke the following morning surrounded in bright golden sunlight. The dark mist that seemed to dominate the sky above was apparently powerless within the oasis of life that offered them refuge. With a contented sigh Paul sat up to find his companions still sleeping.
For perhaps an hour he sat quite happily, as the sun rose slowly in the sky, watching all the many insects attending to their busy work. Although some of these creatures were quite foreign, he also spotted a few familiar faces, including honeybees and dragonflies. At last, however, his companions began to stir.
As soon as they were up, the decision was made to give Paul a tour of the little island, including the bubbling fountain at its very center. Although it only consisted of a few acres it was teaming with plant life, the very image of verdant perfection. However, other than the aforementioned insects and a few birds, animals were completely absent. Nyssa explained that this was due to the fact that it was completely surrounded by dark lands. At one time the little grove had been even more full of life than it was at that moment.
After a quick breakfast of delicious fruit picked from the surrounding trees Alena insisted that Paul continue his training. After the third hour he began to question their decision to stay. He was pouring sweat and tried to explain that his muscles were beginning to stiffen up, but she claimed he was just being lazy. An hour later he collapsed, panting in the grass.
“You can kill me if you want,” he said, his face on the ground, “but I ain't moving.”
In response she didn't speak, but instead stepped into the surrounding woodlands. In less than a minute she returned, a water-skin in her hands.
“Here,” she said, dropping it on the ground beside him. “Drink that.”
“I hope it's poison,” he replied, lifting it from the ground.
“That would be the easy way out,” she laughed.
“I know,” he chuckled in response. “That's what I meant.”
Having said this he took a deep drink. It felt as if he were swallowing pure life a gulp at a time. Energy shot through him, and his body instantly felt completely relieved.
“What is that?” he asked, obviously impressed.
“Fairy water,” she smiled.
“This is what we've come to get?”
“It is,” she replied. “But it won't have the same effect outside this place. It'll just be ordinary holy water. Not that holy water is really ordinary, but you see what I mean.”
“I do,” he sighed. “Oh well, you can't have everything I guess. Either way, why didn't you give me some hours ago?”
“I felt making you wait was good for your character,” she smiled, lifting her sword again. “Now, let's continue.”
The pair spent the remainder of
the day in tireless practice and by the end of it even Paul could tell he was improving. The next morning they arose with the dawn and headed back into the land of death. The young man glanced over his shoulder just before the haven slipped from their view. He sincerely hoped that one day fate would lead him back to that place.
The shrine they sought was in the mountains to the east and to reach it they would once again have to travel some distance along the road. This time, however, Nyssa was able to scout ahead, ensuring that they remained out of the enemy's sight. Her ability to fly combined with the power to make herself invisible at will made her perfect for this task.
Just before they reached the road, the fairy suddenly appeared, flying at them as fast as her wings would carry her.
“You're not going to believe this,” she panted, as soon as she was in speaking distance. “I mean, the odds have to be billions to one. Paul has got to be the it!”
“What are you talking about?” Alena asked.
“Come see,” the fairy replied, flying back in the direction of the road. “And hurry!”
The fairy's three companions followed the flying maiden as quickly as they could. In a matter of minutes all four of them were atop a hill, gazing down at the thoroughfare that ran through the valley. Along it marched a small column of undead. A party of ten zombies were led by two armed and armored ghasts. At the back of this band a young woman attired in black and green rode along, sitting on a jet-black horse.
“You were right,” Alena said, staring at the woman. “I don't believe it...”
“Who is she?” Paul asked.
“Myra,” Sarrac whispered. “And I don't believe it either.”
“That's Myra?!?!” the young man asked. “She looks kind of pretty from this far away.”
“Well she's not,” Alena replied. “She's beautiful. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that she's a monster, or that you have to kill her.”
“Why doesn't she look like a rotten corpse or something?” he asked, gazing down at the maiden in question. “I mean, she would in D&D.”
“Well she would, had she ever been killed,” Sarrac replied, “However, no one's ever managed to do that.”
The Tower of Daelfaun (The Tales of Zanoth Book 1) Page 7
