“Bluster,” the young man chuckled again. “Nothing but bluster! You lay you're filthy tongue on me and the commander'l have your hide.”
“Maybe peasant,” the ghoul replied, releasing him. “But either way, the captain's not here, so you can't speak with him.”
“Alright,” Darek said throwing up his hands. “Then we'll just haul all this pitch back without doing the job and I'll let the commander know that you wouldn't let us follow his orders. What's your name, by the way?”
“I didn't stop you from doing anything.”
“Now look,” Darek replied, glaring at the guard. “We've been told to set out these pitch barrels and get to work on re-pitching where it's already gotten bad. But we can't do that without the captain's permission! If we try, one of you or the other will be asking what we're doing every five minutes and it will take us all night, and I don't plan to miss the burning!”
“Alright,” the ghoul replied, his brows knitted in anger. “Get to work then and I'll let the other guards know what you're doing! You don't need the captain's permission to smear a little pitch, you fool!”
“Fair enough,” Darek smiled. “So long as we're done before the execution, I've got no complaints. Come on lad!”
Immediately the two young men pulled the wagon to a corner of the building before unloading one of the barrels and covering the area just above it with pitch. In a little over an hour their task was complete and they had returned to The Tottering Tankard. The band then made their way to the town square where they took up positions almost touching the wide red ribbon.
As the hours passed more and more people filled the square. Some of the first to arrive were large men who seemed to nod knowingly at the party as they took up their positions. Well before nightfall the square was completely packed and numerous vendors had setup temporary stalls selling food, drinks, and little dolls made to look like Myra, which could be burned in anticipation of the actual event.
Just minutes after the sun set the unfortunate maiden was dragged, her hands bound behind her back, from a large multistory building that was on the very edge of the square. People screamed at the lich and began pelting her with rotten fruits and vegetables as they expressed their hopes that the fires of the hells would be even hotter than those that would transport her there.
As she was led up the steps and tied to the beam Paul instinctively pressed against the guards standing between himself and Myra.
“Get back,” the ghoul in front of him demanded. “You've got as good a view as you're gonna get unless you want to join her!”
“Stay calm,” Sarrac whispered in his ear. “I know how you feel and it's not easy for me to just stand here either, but we have to wait for the right moment. You have the berries?”
“Of course,” Paul replied softly.
“Well whatever you do, don't lose them.”
“Don't worry, that ain't gonna happen.”
After the people had been given the opportunity to hurl more insults at the condemned damsel, as well as spoiled food and a rock or two, Lord and Lady Telraen made their appearance. The pair stepped out onto the second story balcony of the building from which Myra had been brought. They were undeniably a handsome couple, if a little on the pale side. He was tall, muscular, with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The wife was a few inches shorter than her husband, her body shapely and seductive, and her hair, which hung down below her waste, was raven black.
Just moments later a ghast marched onto the balcony, a small brazier in his hands, which he set down and lit before retreating back into the building.
“My people,” the vampire lord said loudly, raising his hands for silence as he spoke. “I know that some of you believe that we immortals rule over you unjustly. That we abuse and mistreat you, and that we show our own kind preferential treatment.”
A murmur of general agreement went through the crowd.
“However,” he continued, “this simply is not the truth. Each of us, both the mortal and the immortal, have our own place in Zanoth. Each of us has a role to fill, and each of us have duties to perform.”
“And what duty is it you perform?” someone from the crowd shouted.
“Many things,” the vampire laughed. “As the lords of the land always have. I defend you from external attack, I make sure you're not murdered in your beds, that you're not robbed in the streets. It's unfortunate that one of the natural weaknesses of mortals is a very short memory. I was protecting this land before your father's, father's, father was born. You have no idea what Mal’Creal was like before I become your lord, and so you constantly question both my abilities and my motives.”
Another murmur ran through the crowd.
“Still,” Lord Telraen smiled. “That's hardly your fault. You're a child trying to understand the mind of an ancient. However, tonight I have the opportunity to prove my love to my people. And I want you all to take note of the fact that my love for you is even greater than my love for my own daughter.”
“You're a liar!” Myra screeched. “A murderer and a monster!”
“Gag her,” the vampire sighed, waiting to be obeyed before continuing. “Myra Kel Marran, you have been found guilty of harvesting for your own ends. Of stealing the very lives of the people without permission and at improper times. You thirst for power has led you to murder countless innocents and for this you will die!”
This was met with a wild cheer from the crowd.
“My former daughter,” he continued, “some might believe that this is merely a ruse and that I truly intend to let you live in spite of your crimes. That is not the case, however! You are a traitor to your people, your lords, and even your parents! And so, thankless child, before you are burned, as you so desperately deserve to be, I will free your soul from its prison.”
Having said this he raised a small, intricately carved wooden box in his hand.
“The lich's phylactery,” he said, before dropping it into the brazier.
As it caught flame, Myra struggled in her bonds, thrashing wildly as she attempted to scream through the gag. The people jeered and laughed at the obvious agony she was experiencing. Paul reached down for Telseir, but Sarrac grabbed his hand.
“I know it's difficult, but we have to wait until...”
The ogre's thought was interrupted by the ringing of a loud bell. Moments later the cry of fire reached the square and people began running wildly one way and the other.
“Fear not,” the vampire lord cried above the din. “It's only a fire and will soon be extinguished. And the dissidents who started it will soon be punished. Commander Reese, Captain Drimnal, take your men and deal with the blaze.”
Immediately all the living guards and a majority of the undead left the square.
“I don't know what whoever did this was hoping to accomplish,” Lord Telraen said. “But all it's done is put a greater burden on the people. Whatever is destroyed in the fire will have to be rebuilt. So, what was the point of it?”
A murmur of agreement rose from the remaining crowd.
“Regardless of this act of arson, however, we're here to see justice done. Burn the traitor!”
As soon as this command was given Paul drew his blade and jammed it into the gut of the guard before him. The ghoul stumbled back, golden flames enveloping his body as Paul lashed out at the next nearest guard, slicing him across the chest and bringing his unlife to a speedy end. Instantly pandemonium seemed to overtake the square.
The undead torch bearers threw their brands into the pyre before charging into the general melee that had broken out. Sarrac, Alena, and Darek all leapt into the fray swinging ax and swords respectively, while Nyssa appeared, buzzing above the crowd, setting their enemies ablaze. Gregory had collected a large number of volunteers who joined the battle with what weapons they had, slaughtering the undead before they had time to react.
Paul had only one aim, one goal; to reach Myra and save her life. He cut down one undead foe after another as he made
his way ever closer to the damsel. The flaming sword he bore made him a conspicuous target, however, and quickly attracted the attention of the vampires themselves. Lord Telraen jumped from the balcony, drew his blade, and strode boldly toward the young man.
“You must be Paul,” he said, raising his sword.
“You know my name?”
“I know more than that,” the vampire laughed. “I'm afraid Myra became rather talkative before I finished with her.”
In reply the young man lashed out at him with all the skill and strength he had.
“She was right about your being brave,” the lord smiled. “And foolish.”
The vampire counterattacked driving Paul back step by step, clearly the more skilled of the two.
“And you know,” the creature continued, “stealing a sword from some little old lady doesn't make you a hero, it just makes you a thief.”
“Better a thief than a murderer,” Paul replied, doing his best to find some opening in the vampire's defenses.
As they fought, Lady Telraen drew near her husband, chanting words of arcane power.
“Murderer is such a strong term,” the lord replied. “I feed on the living, on the weak, on people like you. It's not murder to take our rightful place as gods above the frail mortals that cower before us.”
“Look around you,” Paul smiled. “Some of them aren't cowering.”
“Perhaps,” the vampire admitted. “But they will be again soon. And it looks as if you're running out of time, Paul. She'll be burning soon. As so will you, I expect.”
The moment he finished speaking the vampiress's arms became covered in fire. She threw her hands toward Paul and flames leapt out to engulf him. Before they could reach his flesh, however, Nyssa threw herself between the undead sorceress and her target, blocking the blaze with her own magic.
“It seems your friends are not without some skill,” the vampire lord admitted, “but I tire of this game. Do you have anything to say before I kill you?”
“As a matter a fact, I do,” Paul replied with a smile.
“And what would that be?”
“Drop dead!” the young man screamed.
Instantly a wave of golden light shot from the symbol hanging around his neck. Looks of dread and terror filled the eyes of the vampire and his bride, as the undead soldiers surrounding them burned away to dust. The couple turned and fled down the darkened street screaming wildly of the vengeance of the gods. Without pausing, Paul dashed toward the platform.
“Hot! Hot! That is hot!” he yelled running up the steps.
He jerked the gag from the former lich's mouth and jammed one of the berries into it with his free hand.
“Eat that!” he demanded.
Instantly she vanished.
“Let's get out of here!” he cried leaping from the pyre. “Everybody run for it!”
One by one he watched his companions disappear before consuming the berry he had reserved for himself. Moments later he was back at the fairy well along with his friends, Myra still bound and the very edges of her dress still smoking. Taking a knife from Darek, he cut the maiden's bonds and took the gag from around her neck.
Immediately the former lich fell to her knees and started sobbing passionately.
“I was expecting something more in the way of joy and relief,” the young man pointed out.
“It's just trauma,” the ogress replied, kneeling down and rubbing Myra's back. “That was a very near-death experience and I'm sure having your phylactery burned can't be very pleasant if you're a...”
“You were right, Alena,” the maiden said, gazing up into the ogress's face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They told me everything, every detail of how they murdered my parents. It was clear they relished even the memory of the deed. They were actually pleased that the time had come where they could tell me all about it! It seemed to strike them as amusing that the daughter of the couple they had slaughtered was responsible for their current power.”
“They're monsters Myra and...”
“I was just a tool,” the former lich continued. “Just like you tried to tell me! I did everything they ever asked me to do! I risked my life for them. I loved them! I loved them like a mother and father and they never loved me!”
“They're not capable...”
“Only once did I ever opposed them,” Myra said, hers eyes staring into the distance. “I couldn't let them kill all of you. People who are good, gentle, and kind. And I couldn't let them murder him, I just couldn't. And so they tortured me and tried to kill me.”
Once again the damsel was completely overcome, and sat on the ground weeping. After a little over a minute she took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and rose. She then stepped over to the young man and stared into his eyes.
“Paul,” she said quite calmly. “The time's come for you to kill me.”
“I'm not going to kill you,” he replied, gazing down at her, his eyes filled with pity.
“You have to,” she asserted. “The prophecy foretold it. So please, just do it quickly.”
“He's not about to do that,” Alena pointed out. “We just risked our lives to save you, Myra. We're not even sure you're the daughter of darkness anymore. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're not. You can't be.”
“Oh I am!” the maiden assured her. “I'm the darkest daughter that ever was!”
As she said this, tears started flowing down her face again.
“You have no idea how many people I've slaughtered,” she said. “How many innocents I've dragged away to be eaten alive by undead monsters. How many families I've destroyed! How many children...”
Here she stopped, swaying side to side slightly before grabbing the hilt of Telseir and attempting to draw it from Paul's side. The young man instantly grabbed her by the wrist.
“I have to die!” she screamed, collapsing to her knees. “Please kill me... Paul, please... please kill me...”
“Shhh,” the young man said, kneeling on the ground beside her.
He gently laid her head on his shoulder and rocked her softly back and forth, his arms wrapped around her. The ogress also knelt down, tears flowing from her own eyes, and resumed rubbing the damsel's back. The other members of the band moved a short distance away and sat silently down in the long green grass.
“Well, Alena,” the former lich said, gazing up at her friend. “You got to taste vengeance. More vengeance than you ever imagined. I hate myself more than you ever could have.”
“As it turns out, this vengeance is bitter,” the ogress replied. “And it wasn't you, Myra, it was them. It was them from the very beginning. And gods help me they will pay for it, along with all their other crimes.”
“She's right,” Paul said. “It wasn't you. You were doing what you believed was right. That's all a person can do.”
“You still can't stop them,” the maiden said with a dark laugh. “They still rule this world and there's nothing we can do about it. They own us and that's the end of it! And I betrayed you, too! They asked and I couldn't stop myself from answering. They know who you are, they know you're the it.”
“Good,” Alena smiled. “It's about time they were afraid for a change. And believe me, Myra, they're afraid. And that's wise, because they have a reason to be.”
“They're never afraid,” she said, shaking her head.
“Don't worry about that now,” the young man replied. “Right now let's just try to get some sleep. It's been a long day and we all need some rest. You'll feel better in the morning, trust me.”
As he said this the young man laid down in the grass and pulled the crying maiden up to him. He put her head on his chest and gently stroked her hair until, at last, she fell asleep.
Chapter 11: What's The Magic Ward?
“How are you feeling,” Paul asked, gazing down at the fair young maiden who had just awakened, her head still on his chest.
“Better,” she admitted, not turning her face to his. “But I still wish you would just...”
“Please don't say that,” he interrupted. “How would you feel if I were saying it to you?”
“Horrible,” she immediately conceded.
“Well then stop,” he replied. “We're friends and I don't like hearing you talk like that. Especially after everything we went through to save your life.”
“Alright I will,” she sighed. “But I've lost everything I've ever known and I'll never get it back.”
“That's a fact,” he agreed. “On the other hand, now you've got something you've never had before. You've got real friends, people who actually care about you and love you just because you're you.”
“I suppose that's true,” she said, her voice beginning to shake with emotion. “But you guys were so right... I am evil.”
“You are not evil,” he replied, lifting her face and wiping away the tears that were welling up in her eyes. “You were misguided, deceived...”
“Maladjusted,” she half-chuckled.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You were. But all that's changed now. So, let's not waste time talking about the past and instead start working toward the future. Whatever you've done, we all forgive you and you need to forgive yourself. Those monsters who kidnapped you are the evil ones. We're going to stop them and you're very welcome to help.”
“I'd like to. It would give me a chance to at least try to redeem myself,” she replied, sitting up and gently rubbing her forehead. “I have a bad headache.”
“That's hardly surprising,” he pointed out. “You had a rough night. Still, I think I know what will fix it. Just wait here.”
The young man got to his feet, grabbed up a water skin, and headed for the fountain. Moments later he had returned and offered the young lady some water.
“That is much better,” she said after taking a deep drink. “Thank you. Thank you for everything!”
“No worries,” he smiled. “And thanks for saving my life as well.”
“I had to,” she replied, gazing down at the grass. “I just had to.”
“Well I'm glad,” he replied, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. “As the others are still asleep, you and I have time for a tour of our little island of life amid a sea of death.”
The Tower of Daelfaun (The Tales of Zanoth Book 1) Page 18
