Blood of the Lost: The Darkness Within Saga: Book 2

by JD Franx

  “Never fought a fellow brother of the arcane, have you, little girl? And you, simpleton,” the shaman barked, as he turned his attention to Kael. “Such a useless waste. You need to start thinking like a DeathWizard, boy, not like a Human. Your death magic cannot help you if you do not understand your enemy. Orotaq shamans are immune to all magic. You’ve been fighting warriors, newborn.” The shaman howled with laughter as he held his black battle axe ready for attack. The single word bounced around inside Kael’s head. Newborn. Just like Sythrnax had called him.

  It was all Kael needed to act. His anger flared to life, more at his own incompetence and lack of knowledge than anything else. As always, the deathflower’s vines jumped to life all across his body, continuing their obscene journey through his flesh, but this time an instinctual solution to their problem came along for the ride. Kael stepped forward as his rage peaked and vanished in a haze of black smoke. The Orotaq mystic quit laughing.

  “What the...” the shaman began, as two shiny blades burst from his chest, curving upwards towards his face like two bizarre silver tusks. Using strength he never knew he possessed, Kael held the huge Orotaq up on his toes.

  “I don’t need magic to kill your kind” Kael growled, grinding his teeth. “Your shields can’t stop my blades, and you can’t stop what you can’t see.”

  The Orotaq mystic coughed as blood gurgled in his throat. He smiled, and pulled himself free of Kael’s weapons.

  Turning towards Kael, the shaman wheezed. “You are a fool, Kael. We all know who you are, what you are, but more importantly...” Dropping to a knee, he reached for Kael. Stepping forward, Kael plunged both blades into the shaman’s stomach, pulling him closer as the shaman continued speaking. “I may have been easy to defeat, but I’m a young Shaman. My elders are stronger, Kael. I will die, but you will follow me, if not today, then very soon.”

  He coughed once more and Kael twisted his blades, ripping them out of the shaman’s body. One tore its way out the top of the shaman’s left shoulder and the second through the right hip. With the weapons no longer holding the body up, it fell to the ground with a wet thud.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before too. ‘Very soon’ never seems to get here,” Kael muttered. The Orotaq Shaman was well beyond hearing it.

  From his peripheral vision, Kael caught a glimpse of Kyah as she ducked under the leaping attack of the last savage black dog that had been lurking behind a burning wall. It sailed over her head. The little blades on her kinrai chain held tight between her knuckles gored the beast’s stomach. The hound’s momentum increased the severity of the razor-sharp blades. It hit the ground in a smear of blood and entrails and twitched in the throes of death.

  “What now?” Kyah asked, wiping blood from her face as she crossed the street to Kael.

  “They know who we are. That means they work for Sythrnax and the Dead Sisters. What do you think we’re gonna do?” Fired by up by anger and a surprising bloodlust, Kael realized his harsh response took her by surprise, but it was short lived.

  “I think we should kill them all,” she said.

  Kael smiled, her reply was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Let’s go.”

  “Do not forget, even Orotaq warriors are resistant to magic.”

  “I won’t,” he growled, spinning the Vai’Karth in both hands.

  Lost in the coursing waves of fury that boiled through his blood, Kael led the way further into the village of Cairnwood. They entered a narrow alley between two single-story homes and crouched as they watched the remainder of the hollow dogs drag people to the centre of town. Keeping to the eastern edge of the village to avoid the bulk of the Orotaq invading forces, Kael and Kyah were quickly forced to make their way back to the north, killing two more capable warriors they encountered along the way. Young and inexperienced, even by Kael’s standards, they still put up an impressive fight. Blood dripped steadily off his fingertips from the wound in his shoulder—proof of the young warrior’s skills.

  As they reached the northern edge of the village, Kyah grabbed Kael by the arm. “Kael!” she cried, “help her, quick.”

  Glancing to where she pointed, he saw a little girl on her knees, her head bowed before a mountain-sized Orotaq warrior about to end her life with an oversized obsidian greatsword.

  “Shit,” Kael swore. His words echoed as he vanished within a cloud of black smoke.

  Cassie held her breath and waited for the blow that would end her short life. When splashed with wet warmth, the taste of iron and salt filled her mouth, but there was no spark of pain accompanying it. Something heavy landed beside her and she opened her eyes, clearly surprised she wasn’t in the afterlife. The Orotaq who tried to kill her was dead at her side. A man ten years older than she stood in front of her.

  Kael reached his hand out to help her, the heat of battle still rushed through him. Staring at her, he could see fear and regret filled her eyes, as if wishing she had died. Realizing his tattooed face and dark eyes along with the wisps of black smoke rising from his arms made him more terrifying than any Orotaq, he smiled to ease her fear.

  “Never die on your knees, little one,” he said. “Begging won’t save you. If you have to die, do it kicking, screaming, and fighting the whole way, and drag as many of these overgrown bastards with you as you can. Understand?” he said, offering his hand again.

  She looked up and nodded, but her face suddenly paled in horror as the vines on his face continued to grow, tearing through the skin of his cheeks and around his eyes before they finally stopped just above his eyebrows. He suppressed a grunt of agony. Still trembling, she slowly took his hand and he helped her up just as Kyah joined them.

  “Are... are you... here to help us? Please, you have to help us,” Cassie asked, her voice hollow of emotion. Kael frowned as the little girl stared, transfixed, at the dead bodies of two young boys less than five feet away. A quick shake of Kyah’s head told Kael there was nothing she could do for them.

  As Cassie let go of his hand and knelt beside the bloody, arrow-filled bodies of the little boys and cried, Kael answered her. “Yes. We’ll try and help, now come. If we win, there will be time to bury and honour the fallen, even if I have to help you myself. Now come,” he said again. “It’s not safe here, and we can do nothing to help the dead.” Cassie nodded, still in shock, as Kyah pulled her close and held her tight.

  “We need to move. Now,” Kael said, whispering. Scooping Cassie up in his arms, he dodged behind a house, just missing a four-man Orotaq patrol. Kael set the girl down and knelt at her side as Kyah grabbed a cloth from her travel pack and wet it with water from her water skin.

  “What is your name, little one?” Kyah asked as she tried to wipe some of the gore from the little girl’s face.

  “Cassandra, Mistress, people call me Cassie.” Kael stood and kept a close watch around the corner of the house while Kyah tried to learn what she could from the girl.

  “You can call me Kyah, and this is Kael. Can you tell us what happened here?”

  “I don’t know what happened. I was in the forest and I returned to see this,” she said, waving a hand around the destroyed village. “I think they are the Orotaq. I have heard stories of them, but...” she answered. Her whole body shook with fear and Kael glanced her way as the little girl’s teeth chattered.

  Kyah smiled to reassure her. “It is all right. You are correct, they are Orotaq. Do you know how many are here?”

  Shaking her head, it was clear she was trying hard not to cry. “No, they killed my aunt and uncle and my cousins. We were trying to run.” Unable to hold it in, she started to cry as Kyah pulled her close again.

  She stared past Kyah’s shoulder as Kael shook his head. “I can just make out the town square from here. The situation doesn’t look good,” he said. “Two Orotaq Shamans and at least ten warriors are in the square. Each are handling one or two dogs. They’re keeping watch over the prisoners who survived the initial attack. Without help, this town is doomed.”

/>   “I know,” Kyah whispered.

  “Dammit,” Kael cursed. “We need to get closer, so we can hear what they are saying.” Cassie pulled back from Kyah and stared up at Kael.

  “I can help,” she said. “There is a big tree on the edge of where they are gathering the people. They can’t see you up there if you are quiet and the town square is right there.”

  “Tell me how to get there. Kyah, keep her close,” he ordered, and shrugged an apology as she gave him a dirty look for telling her to do the obvious.

  Under Cassie’s whispered directions, they arrived at the big oak tree on the north-western edge of the town without being seen. She showed both Kyah and Kael how to climb the tree swiftly, using the backside so none of the Orotaq would spot them. Once in the higher branches, they climbed out onto the limbs that were closer to where the Orotaq had assembled the town’s inhabitants. It looked like most if not all the invaders had returned there as well.

  The moans of scared people and the sharp report of a slap or the thud of a punch given to whomever made too much noise drifted up to Kael’s ears. The odd snarl or bark from the black dogs kept the rest of the townsfolk in line. Kael could see most of the town square through the branches of his hiding spot. The Orotaq were waiting for something. Kyah was on the branch to his immediate right.

  “What do we do?” she asked. “If they decide to massacre everyone, we cannot fight that many. Without effective magic, the advantage is with them.”

  “I know,” he replied, concerned. “Maybe they don’t want to kill everyone.”

  While they were discussing what might happen, Cassie pointed out a guard and his dog heading their way. She tugged Kael’s leg and pointed a second time as Kael missed the first. As the Orotaq and his dog drew near, he could see panic light up in the little girl’s eyes. He smiled to reassure her. With his innate ability to hide himself and others from magical detection, he was not worried, at first. When he whispered that it would be all right, Cassie pointed at the dog while tugging her nose.

  “Shit,” Kael swore, under his breath as he realized what she meant. The terrified look on her face returned. Kyah held both her hands up and shook her head to let him know that she had no ideas, either. Cassie panicked and started down the tree. Kael gently grabbed her arm as he tried to think of something to help. The hollow dog and his handler continued to approach.

  With no other choice, Kael tried covering their smell in a similar manner to how he silenced his feet. Putting his hands up and closing his eyes, he concentrated on smothering their smell.

  A quiet gasp escaped Kyah’s lips. Kael opened his eyes to see long, dark, swirling wisps of smoke curl around all three of them. The long, snake-like shadows chased each other around their bodies like three dark comets. The shadows circled several times, then dissipated. Taking a deep breath, Kael choked on the stench and Cassie covered her mouth to smother her nervous giggle. Kyah frowned and shook her head.

  Somehow, he had managed to increase the smell of their bodies instead. Less than twenty feet away, the hollow dog and its handler were joined by two others and headed for the tree. They had less than a minute.

  At a loss for what to do, Kael shook his head and stared at Kyah.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Spirit and soul magics draw the heaviest price from magic users. Using the soul or forcing spirits to gain magical power is immoral and highly illegal. Resist this temptation at all costs, or you will see me much sooner than you’d expect.”

  Excerpt from Giddeon Zirakus’ speech

  to newly bonded students on the dangers of dark magic.

  CAULDRON’S TEETH MOUNTAIN RANGE

  Chief Karlag Kordanu followed his scout up into the mountains for over an hour before the man slowed to an easier pace. Corleya watched the forest closely. The birds stopped chirping, but had not taken flight, and no insect buzzed or clicked from the underbrush.

  “Is it just me...” she whispered, hoping Lycori could hear her, but not the priestess.

  “No,” Lycori said, softly. “It’s not. We’re being watched. The chief and the scout both know, so do the priestesses.”

  Kasna spun, hissing lightly for the two women to be quiet as the scout called the chief forward. Tugging hard on the noose around Lycori’s neck, Karlag’s stone features threatened violence if they did not remain silent. Lycori turned to Corleya, her finger pressed to her lips. Understanding the situation, Corleya bowed her head in deference to the Kordanu chief. Karlag’s scout carefully picked his way forward, following a small game trail that headed deeper into Sartaq territory, and higher into the heavily-forested mountain range.

  In a matter of minutes, the scout pushed his way past the thick leaves of a tall plant to discover the trail ended at a steep cliff. Whistling back to Chief Karlag, he stepped sideways a dozen feet, making room along the edge for the others. As Lycori and Corleya stepped out from the brush, the princess gasped at the yawning chasm between the mountains. Looking to her left further up the range, she saw smoke from a cook fire drifting through the treetops. A gentle breeze carried the scent of woodsmoke and cooking meat as well as the sweet smell of citrus fruit. Her stomach growled at the tantalizing odours as she realized they had not been fed in over twenty-four hours.

  The scout clicked his tongue. Catching Karlag’s attention, he pointed towards the smoke. The chief nodded. Tugging at Lycori’s noose, he once again followed his scout up the mountain.

  An hour passed, then two, as the sun began to drop behind the mountain skyline and the scout led the way to what Corleya hoped would be the Sartaq camp. Tired and sore, sweat ran down her back and dripped off her nose. The forest’s oppressive humidity never ceased. The scent of cooking game grew stronger until her rumbling stomach became a physical ache. She glanced ahead and could see the smoke through the trees less than a hundred feet ahead.

  Smiling, she poked Lycori gently and pointed. The vampyr’s eyes were wide with what could only be fear. Corleya opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the blonde woman shook her head fiercely, making a circular motion with her finger. Before Corleya could comprehend the woman’s meaning, the scout and Chief Karlag stumbled into a clearing occupied by the Sartaq main camp. Hearing a light rustle behind her, Corleya turned to see they were completely surrounded on all sides except for forward. An old woman stood in front of them, twenty feet into the plateau mountain clearing. A quick look told Corleya all she needed to know: the Sartaq had been waiting for them. Her body reacted out of instinctive fear and she clenched her legs to avoid wetting herself.

  The old woman leaned heavily on a staff as tall as she was. Decorated with charms, bits of poorly forged metal, and bleached humanoid finger bones, the staff was gnarled and twisted, as if an extension of the old woman holding it. A purple flower topped the staff. Its thick meaty petals, the size of a human head, trailed thorn-covered vines that coiled around the staff like a living entity. Corleya recognized them as the same vines used to create the slave pen back at the Kordanu camp, only much smaller in width. Chief Karlag bowed to the old woman and spoke in the tribe’s guttural tongue. Corleya looked to Lycori, hoping she would translate.

  “We bring tribute for trespassing on Sartaq land,” Lycori whispered to the captives, translating straight across. It was wasted on Damien. His eyes still rolled in their sockets like over-boiled eggs. The effects of the priestesses’ poison was still in full effect. Ever calm and quiet, Alia said nothing, listening as she always did. Corleya shivered as the old woman lifted her dark red dress clear of the dirt and shuffled closer, her dark eyes studying the princess and the other captives. Lycori continued translating, her voice low, as the chief and the old woman spoke.

  “Her name is Vexa. She wants to know why traitors walk on their lands.”

  “Traitors?” Corleya mouthed, but Lycori held up a finger to quiet her and strained to hear more. Corleya stared, unable to tear her eyes away from the old woman’s strange appearance. Even taking magic into account, the w
oman was ancient, her face weathered and wrinkled, yet her breasts were perky and her body firm and lean, her legs smooth like a young woman’s. Gold strands of some exotic wild plant had been threaded into the knotted mess of her long, black and silver, ratty hair. The old woman slammed her staff into the ground, breaking Corleya’s concentration.

  “Vexa is the Sartaq matriarch. She says that all the tribes are traitors for abandoning them. She wants him to leave,” Lycori said, her pale face turning even whiter. “The offerings stay.” Corleya could see Chief Karlag struggle to remain calm, clearly unaccustomed to such disrespect. Lycori returned to translating.

  Swallowing his anger, Karlag took a deep breath and bowed. “Mistress, listen to what I have to say. If you want me to leave after, we will go and you may keep our offerings. Agreed?”

  Vexa frowned, staring into Karlag’s eyes, as if looking for signs of treachery. “Say your peace, traitor, and then begone.”

  “The northern defilers have trespassed on our lands. All the tribes are in danger. The Kordanu have been chosen to ask for your help. We go to war.”

  Vexa tilted her head, nodding. “You are welcome here. For now. We will share of the flesh—our hunters were blessed with a kill this morn, and we will consult the spirits. If the vile goddess agrees, the Sartaq will fight your war.”

  Shifting on feet far too agile for a woman her age, the Sartaq matriarch slowly approached Lycori, Corleya, and the others. Crouching between the two young women, princess and vampyr, Vexa grabbed a handful of Corleya’s black hair, pulling her close. Raw fear tore at her stomach. The coppery scent of blood and the rancid stench of death permeated the hag’s body, overwhelming Corleya’s sense of smell, making her dizzy and short of breath. Rotting breath washed over her face as the old woman smiled.