The Sword and the Sorcerer

by John Phythyon

  Elmanax didn’t care. Gothemus Draco and Zod the Fearless had stolen from him. They’d based the entirety of their world on a balance of power they alone maintained. It was foolish and selfish. Now, the rest of the humans could pay for allowing themselves to be cowed.

  Vicia was right about one thing: Calibot and his friends were surely heading for the tower of Gothemus Draco. Elmanax planned to be there ahead of them to offer a proper welcome.

  Chapter 15: Spiders

  Zod stared at the sun bleeding the last of its light over the horizon. It was difficult to see to begin with, due to the thickness of the trees. The canopy of leaves was so heavy no light could penetrate on land, casting the Wild Lands in perpetual night. Here, on the river that snaked through the heart of the sinister woods, one could see a little of the sky. It wasn’t much – the tree branches grew out over the channel. But they couldn’t completely cover it, and some of the sun’s light fell on the black water. It was about to be gone, though, and that thought made him shiver.

  Gothemus had created a magnificent sailing barge for Zod. It could accommodate massive shipments of iron ore, a large crew, and displace little water despite its enormous size. It was the ideal vehicle for transporting his shipments downriver for processing. For this mission, Zod had stuffed it with seven hundred of his best soldiers and his most experienced crew. He was expecting trouble both en route and after his arrival.

  The barge floated slowly down the meandering waterway. It seemed to have almost no current to carry it to Silver Lake and Gothemus’s tower. Zod wished they could paddle, but he knew better than to do that. It was best not to disturb anything that lay beneath the surface.

  “Shall we look for a place to put in on the shore, sir?” his captain said.

  Zod gave him a withering look intended to make him quail. It worked to an extent. The man’s ruddy skin paled, and his thick, black mustache quivered. His shoulders caused his black tabard to rustle a bit. But he otherwise stood his ground and clearly expected the question to be answered.

  “You want to put in over there, Captain Zendor?” Zod said, indicating the foreboding trees.

  “No, sir,” Zendor replied. “I just thought that after last night’s misfortune . . .” His voice trailed away, and he dropped his eyes to the deck.

  Yes. Last night’s misfortune. Zod still had no idea what the hell had attacked them. It had come from beneath the water, and it had been too dark to get a good look at it. But it lurched up from under them and nearly capsized the barge in its initial assault. Then at least twenty giant, slimy tentacles sprang from the river and started snatching sailors and soldiers off the vessel. Those it pulled under didn’t come up again.

  They lost thirty or so people before anyone even realized what was happening. By the time they organized a counterattack, the thing had stolen forty-two. They fought it and cut at its tentacles, but Zod didn’t think he prevented many abductions. In the end, it left only when it appeared to be sated. The final death count was ninety-six. There was no guarantee it wouldn’t be back tonight.

  Zod wouldn’t have believed something big enough to have that many large tentacles could fit beneath the river’s surface. It seemed entirely too big for the black water to contain it. But there was no applying logic to the Wild Lands. Both the creatures that lived within it and the land itself were infested with magic. Gothemus loved the Wild Lands. He was the only person Zod knew who did.

  It would have been disturbing enough if last night’s incident had been isolated or unusual. It was neither. Practically every night since they’d left his fortress, they’d been attacked by something. A small dragon scorched the camp and killed seven soldiers before it could be slain on the very first night. Enormous wolves fell on them the second night. No one was killed but thirteen warriors were injured. The next night, some sort of fungus attempted to devour the first people who set foot on land. And the following night, stinging moths plagued them.

  Zod had had enough. He decided they would sail on through the night and not risk the hazards of land. But then the tentacled horror attacked.

  Nowhere was safe. The only hope was to complete the journey, try to get out of the Wild Lands alive.

  He had never seen it like this, not even before Gothemus tamed the magical forest with the Eye of the Dragon. Under Gothemus, the Wild Lands were as docile as could be expected. As long as one had Gothemus’s blessing and protection, navigating the strange place wasn’t difficult. Before he and his brother had stolen the Eye from that hapless gnome, the Wild Lands were more dangerous. One had to be careful about entering them.

  But it was nothing like this. The Wild Lands had always been savage, but this was something else. This was . . . vehemence. It was as though they were angry, and they meant to take revenge on him and anyone who dared enter.

  The Wild Lands were free somehow. Gothemus was no longer in control of them. Zod could think of only one explanation for that – his brother was dead.

  A terrible scream drew Zod’s attention. He whirled in its direction. Through the window of the bridge he could just make out what appeared to be a spider the size of a carriage. One of his sailors lay sprawled before it. Before anyone could react, a second spider landed on the barge. Where had it come from? It stung another sailor, who fell to the deck.

  People started shouting. More spiders landed on the barge and stung more people. Zod stood frozen in horror, not sure how to deal with this new threat. The first spiders gathered up their victims and sprang away. Zod watched as they managed to clear the entirety of the water and land safely on the other side. Meanwhile, more spiders launched themselves from the banks.

  “Hard to port!” Zod shouted.

  “Aye, sir,” Zendor replied.

  He yanked the wheel to the left, trying to steer the ship away from the onslaught. Meanwhile, spiders landed and stung. Several soldiers were trying to organize a resistance, but it was total chaos on the deck.

  Zod leaped through the window of the bridge, tearing his sword out of its scabbard as he went. He landed next to one of the beasts and cut through three of its spindly legs. The spider roared in pain and fell over, glaring at him with six of its eight malevolent eyes. He drove his sword into its brain. It squealed and then lay motionless.

  “Behind you!” Zendor yelled.

  Zod turned just in time to see another spider attempt to sting him. He brought his sword around and parried the blow slicing through the stinger as he did so. The monster screamed. Then it reared up and snatched him off the deck with its two front legs. It brought him rapidly towards its mouth intending to rend him open with its pincers. Zod got his sword up and impaled the beast as it drove him in. It squealed like the first one had and dropped him. A moment later, it too fell over, apparently dead.

  He took a moment to look around. Six spiders were onboard, two of which were snatching up victims. The other four battled Zod’s soldiers. The beasts moved with tremendous speed and were difficult to hit. In the back of his mind, he realized he’d been lucky both times with the ones he’d killed.

  A seventh spider landed on the deck, barely making it. An eighth crashed into the water and didn’t emerge. At last, Zendor had gotten them a safe distance away. Moreover, it seemed the fiends couldn’t swim.

  The two with victims, sprang towards the trees. Both came up shy of dry land but hit where the water was shallow. They scrabbled up the banks and made off with their prey into the forest. Zod turned his attention to the ones onboard.

  One of them had a sailor cornered. Zod ran up behind the thing and drove his sword into its abdomen. It roared its anger and shook its body in pain. Zod was thrown and lost his grip on his sword. He landed roughly and tumbled across the deck right in front of another of the horrid beasts. All eight of its eyes stared at him in wicked delight. It raised its abdomen, happy to sting a defenseless quarry.

  Before it could land its blow, though, it was seized from behind by an enormous hand of water. Zod boggled as the giant spider w
as pulled off its feet and dragged down into the river, from which it did not emerge. Zod turned his head and saw Alistair standing behind him with his staff raised.

  “Are you all right, my lord?” he said.

  “I think so,” Zod replied. “Behind you!”

  Another spider crouched, ready to spring. Alistair dropped to a knee as he whirled and took aim with his staff.

  “Immolus!” he cried as the spider launched itself.

  A ball of orange fire shot out of the staff and hit the creature in its abdomen, exploding on impact. The beast was instantly covered in flames, and it howled its agony and rage to the sky, before tottering back and disappearing over the side.

  “Many thanks, my lord,” Alistair said.

  “Don’t mention it,” Zod replied.

  He grabbed a spear from a dead soldier. Then he turned and drove it into the side of another of the foul creatures. It screamed, but, before it could turn on him, he shoved with all his might and let go of the spear. The spider tumbled off the barge and into the river.

  Moments later, it was over. Alistair and the remaining soldiers made short work of the monstrosities.

  “Damn, but I hate spiders,” he muttered. He turned his attention to Alistair. “How many did we lose?”

  “I’m not certain yet, my lord,” he replied. “At least ten. Probably more.”

  Zod sighed. They were still two days from the edge of the Wild Lands and at least two days more from Gothemus’s tower. This was insane. At the rate they were going, he would be lucky to arrive with more than a token force.

  He swore silently to himself. Whoever was responsible for this was going to pay dearly.

  Chapter 16: Hunting and Hunted

  “You want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?” Devon demanded.

  They had finally stopped and dismounted after having ridden largely in silence for over an hour since their dramatic escape from Eldenberg. Heedless of the dark, they’d pushed their horses on to make certain they were well away from any pursuit. Devon worried constantly one of the beasts would misstep and shatter its leg, forcing them to put it down and slowing their overall progress, since someone would have to ride double.

  As they had ridden on, he’d grown angrier. He had the watchman persuaded. He was going to let them go. They could have gotten out of the city and been safely away before anyone suspected anything.

  Then Calibot lost his mind and murdered the soldier. The watch had pursued them. If Liliana hadn’t thought to use her burn powder to trip up the Eldenbergians, they might be dead. He was furious with Calibot for acting so stupidly.

  He was also extremely worried. Calibot had become completely unpredictable. At times he was the man Devon knew – soft, caring, sweet. At others, he was completely withdrawn. He would say nothing for hours at a time as storms raged across his face, making Devon fear what thoughts lay behind his blue eyes. And other times still he was absolutely crazy. He’d charged the gnome and nearly gotten himself killed. He’d murdered the watchman and put them all in danger. He might have done the same to the Council’s messenger if Devon hadn’t stopped him.

  Worse, there seemed to be no way to predict when this violent, deadly Calibot would explode. No matter what strategy they enacted, Calibot could change course with no warning, forcing Devon and Liliana simply to react and pray they’d survive to figure out what to do next.

  Devon was losing the man he loved. Something about this whole adventure was changing Calibot, and Devon had no idea how to stop it.

  “I had no choice,” Calibot said, his voice cool and even. “They were pursuing us. There were soldiers headed our way.”

  “That doesn’t mean they were coming for us!” Devon cried. “And even if it had, I only needed a few more seconds. We’d have been out the gate without any blood on our hands. And if we didn’t have time, there was no need to kill that man. We could have simply run them over without hurting them.”

  “We needed a distraction,” Calibot said. “If you’d just charged past him, you would have been shot in the back. We needed something that froze them long enough for us to get a head start on them. Beheading the one who was talking with a flaming sword was an extraordinary enough event to create that effect.”

  Devon gaped at him. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out Calibot’s features, couldn’t search his eyes to see what was happening. But he was alarmed. Here was yet a fourth personality. Who was this Calibot who talked about strategy and sacrificed people as though they were pawns in a game?

  “What has gotten into you?” he said. “Since when are you an expert on small forces tactics?”

  “You know I’m right, Devon,” he said. “You’re the soldier. You know strategy. It’s unfortunate the man had to die. If he didn’t, though, we would be dead or in the hands of the Council of Elders.”

  He turned away and started unpacking his saddlebags. Devon continued to stare. He’d lost him. Somehow Calibot’s father had reached out beyond the grave and stolen him away. Was it magic? Devon hoped so. A spell could be broken. A personality change was much harder.

  “Shall I start a fire?” Liliana said.

  “No,” Calibot and Devon both said.

  Devon stared at him in surprise.

  “If the stakes are as high as we believe they are,” Calibot continued, “the Council will pursue immediately. We’re out in the open. A fire will tell the trackers where to find us. It’s going to be hard enough to travel across these plains without being spotted. At nighttime, we can’t do anything to give away our position.”

  “That’s right,” Devon said.

  He felt blindsided. Suddenly, Calibot had a grasp of strategy and tactics. His mind – once warm and creative – was now cold and calculating. What did he need Devon for? He didn’t need a military advisor, and he didn’t act like he wanted love – not that Devon was interested in this strange person Calibot had become.

  He decided, though, that Calibot needed a conscience. Whatever had happened, whatever spell Gothemus Draco had cast on him, Calibot needed someone telling him right from wrong. He’d lost that compass. The murder of the gate guard proved that.

  Devon would see this through to the end. Calibot’s soul depended on it.

  ***

  Vicia waited impatiently in the prairie grass as the three hunters scouted the area. They’d only been out half an hour, but they’d made minimal progress. She could still see the lights of the city not too far in the distance. These three were supposed to be the best hunters in the Council’s service. Why hadn’t they found the trail yet?

  As though they had given each other some mental cue, they all returned to her at once. The captain, Erebus, looked up at her sitting astride her horse. He had a bushy mustache and beard, and he didn’t look very well groomed, as though he was as wild as the things he usually hunted.

  “It’s hopeless tonight, Lord Vicia,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “What do you mean, ‘hopeless’?”

  “There’s not enough light,” he replied. “There are too many possible trails. If we make a mistake and follow the wrong one, we could be more than a day off-course before we realize our mistake. Then you won’t catch them in time.”

  Vicia wanted to scream. She needed to be able to bring the fugitives in quickly. If she could return them tonight, it would allay the fears of the Council. As it was, they were losing confidence in her. Vestran had warned her not to fail, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to persuade him to show mercy if she couldn’t deliver what she’d promised this time. Coming home empty-handed could result in her removal as an Elder . . . or worse. The sooner she delivered Calibot and his companions to the Council, the sooner Lord Hedron and Lord Vestran would stop hounding her.

  “I don’t think you understand how important it is we catch them quickly,” she said.

  “Perhaps not,” Erebus replied. “But if we make a mistake, you won’t catch them at all.

  “Besides, they will be easy to trac
k moving across these plains. You can see for miles in the daylight, and the grass is easily marked. Given that you know where they are going, we should be able to run them down in only two to three days’ time, possibly less.

  “But all that assumes we don’t take ourselves off-course tonight. It is best for us to rest and begin again at dawn tomorrow.”

  Vicia spat a curse and dismounted. It seemed there was nothing to be done about it. She couldn’t risk losing them.

  This was all Elmanax’s fault. He’d told her everything would work out fine. He’d told her that, once Gothemus was dead, all the treasures in his tower would be hers for the taking. He’d promised her she’d be able to ascend to the presidency of the Council. But aside from successfully poisoning Gothemus Draco, not a damned thing had gone right in this scheme of his.

  Gothemus was laughing at her from beyond the grave. Didn’t the look he’d given her as he cast his final spell prove it? She knew she deserved it. She’d been a fool to listen to Elmanax’s lies. She doubted he had any intention of allowing the Council to use the Eye of the Dragon. He probably meant to keep it for himself.

  It didn’t matter, though. Rightly or wrongly, she was committed to this path. If she veered off it, if she didn’t go through with all she had told the Council she would do, she would be ruined. There was simply no turning back. She had to pray Elmanax would eventually be right about something.

  The thought didn’t give her much hope.

  ***

  Over the next two days, Calibot and Devon didn’t talk much. They rode in silence, with the only sound the wind rushing through the prairie grass. Devon frequently glanced over at the man he loved, but Calibot only stared straight ahead as he bobbed up and down with the gait of his mount. Devon couldn’t tell if he was angry or just preoccupied. The stormy expression that usually accompanied this withdrawn personality was gone. Calibot appeared vacant. His mind seemed to be hundreds of miles away. Devon suspected it was at Gothemus’s tower and that it had traveled back in time to Calibot’s youth.