Justan grinned. He heard a familiar voice that made him believe that everything would turn out just fine.
“Look, we can’t just have her runnin’ off to find the boy! We know where he is and he ain’t goin’ nowhere till mornin’.” Lenny grumbled. “Why couldn’t the boy have bonded with a beast that’d be easier to handle? Like a troll or somethin’?”
Qyxal had only met the dwarf twenty minutes before and he already disliked him. He wanted to snap back, but it was taking his full attention to keep Gwyrtha under control. He murmured soothingly into her, and stroked her horse-like mane.
Suddenly, he felt a change go over her.
“Wait. There’s a change. She’s calmed,” the elf said. “I think that Justan is speaking with her.”
She stayed completely still and glassy-eyed. Zambon and Lenny came closer, though the dwarf stayed warily just out of the reach of her claws.
“Tell him that I’m here and we’re gonna come and get him,” Lenny said.
“Shh!” the elf whispered, completely focused on Gwyrtha’s movements.
Then the glassiness left her eyes and Gwyrtha looked at each of them in turn. There was almost a smile at the sides of her lips.
“He knows we’re here and I think he’s glad to see us.”
“Is he hurt?” Zambon asked.
Gwyrtha’s stance changed slightly. The elf frowned. “She seems a bit worried. Perhaps he’s slightly wounded. Whatever it is, it’s not serious.”
“So can he understand me if I talk to him now?” the dwarf asked.
Qyxal looked into her eyes and saw the intelligence there. He nodded. “I think so.”
“Look, boy. I’m here and we’re gonna come and getcha. We can’t bust in there now, ‘cause there’s too many of them blasted varmints. But we’ll wait ‘till yer on the road to the Duke. Then we’ll pounce on ‘em.”
Gwyrtha nodded her head slowly.
“I think he agrees.”
“Good,” Zambon said. “Perhaps in the morning he can tell us how many men they are sending along with him an-“
“Wait!” the elf said. “Gwyrtha tensed up again. I think he’s gone.”
“What do you mean?” Lenny asked.
“He’s not communicating with her anymore.”
Justan hurriedly let go of his connection with Gwyrtha. There was something outside the tent that frightened him and he didn’t know why. He saw two shadows reflected on the rear wall of his tent. He heard voices.
“Come, come my dear. I have but one prisoner to see to and then we’ll be on our way. Yes we will.” The voice was thin and eerie.
The second voice was female, very polished and proper sounding. “Perhaps I will go with you but perhaps not.” A hint of hesitation entered her voice. “Your proposal is quite interesting, but I don’t like those rings, Ewzad. They make you look thin and wasted and your hands are all . . . crawly.”
“Oh, my dear, my dear Elise, let me calm your mind. You see, I can take the rings off at any time. Yes I can. But when I wear the rings I have great power. Such power.” The voice had a seductive tone.
Justan’s eyes widened. Elise was the princess’ name!
“I don’t care Ewzad, I don’t like it. You’re not yourself!”
A sudden gust of wind rocked the tent. Then Justan felt a swell of magic that carried a sense of attraction to it. Someone was casting a charm spell. He switched to his mage sight and what he saw frightened him. The man poured way more power into the spell than was necessary. The waste of energy was extraordinary.
He felt a disturbing desire bubbling up inside of him. The man’s power was intoxicating. His mouth started to water. Justan hurriedly threw up his defenses, but was still nearly overwhelmed and the spell wasn’t even directed at him.
“Can you feel the power, my dear Elise?” Ewzad crooned. “Can you feel IT?” This time it was more a command than a question.
A throaty whisper that spoke of drunken lust came from the woman’s throat. “Yes.”
“So come with me, dearest. Join with me. I want to share this power with you. Oh yes. Yes I do my dear, dear Elise.” Justan saw a shudder pass through the woman’s silhouette. “The side effects of the rings are only temporary I assure you, and I promise to take them off whenever we are . . . alone.” The last word carried an eerie weight to it that made Justan wince.
“B-but of course, Ewzad. I never thought of ending our agreement. It is only that your arrival was sudden, and over the last few days I have developed a slight cough and would not wish to travel in such a state,” she said, seeming to have gathered her wits.
Ewzad? Why did that name sound so familiar?
“I can heal your cough . . .” the man began, raising his hand and Justan fancied that the man’s shadow squirmed as if his hand held a fistful of snakes.
“Oh, no. No. Since your arrival, I think it is quite gone. I feel much better and I cannot wait to see how far along your new castle is.”
“Very well dear. Very well.” The man giggled. He put an arm around her waist and she did not draw away. “Now wait with Hamford. With my powers, I can take us to the castle swiftly. I have only to deal with one matter.”
Justan made the connection. Zambon had told him about the man when he first arrived at the MageSchool, but he didn’t know he was a wizard. This wizard was none other than Duke Vriil. Duke Ewzad Vriil.
The shadow walked around to the front of the tent. Justan was filled with fear. He did not want to meet the man behind that shadow. The tent flap rustled and Justan recoiled.
Then he entered.
The wizard stood for a moment in the darkness. Suddenly, a small light sprung out from his outstretched palm. His fingers swirled around the globe of light causing shadows to writhe about the room. In the chaotic movement of light and shadow Justan could not completely make out the man’s face, but what he saw was gaunt, almost skeletal and fixed in a wicked grin. It was more the face of a dead man than a live one.
“Well, my friend. You have been a naughty one, haven’t you?”
Justan was shaking uncontrollably with fear and he realized that the fear was being projected from the man. He struggled against it, but stopped shy of using his defensive magic to deflect the spell. He didn’t want the man to know about his powers.
“Yes, see I understand that you killed one of my favorite creations. Huck was a personal favorite of mine. He was perfection. Yes! Perfection. But you somehow found the only place on him I could not protect. You must be quite a shot with the bow, oh yes indeed!”
The man leaned forward until his squirming hand was but a few inches from Justan’s face. Justan wanted to say something, wanted to deny the man’s accusations, but it took all of his mental control just to keep from screaming.
“You will pay for that deed. Oh, yes you will. In fact, I am glad that I happened to be in the area. Not only do I get to take my future bride back with me, but now I have yet another plaything for my dungeons.”
Justan gasped as he tried to keep control over his despair. He had to find a way to talk the man out of it. “Y-you are the duke?” he sputtered.
“Yes. For now, anyway.” The evil grin never left the man’s face. “But that is of no consequence for you, my friend. No-no. I have plans for you.”
Justan wanted to say something that would placate the man. There had to be something. Something smart. Something witty? What came out was, “Are you going to kill me?”
The wizard giggled.
“Eventually, my boy. But you are going to beg me to do it for a long time before I do. Aren’t you? Oh, yes.” A bit of saliva rolled down the man’s skeletal chin. “First you will wait in my dungeons. You will wait until you think that I have forgotten you. Then I will come and make you scream.”
“P-please.” The fear grew so intense that Justan fought the urge to vomit.
“Yes, yes. You will scream and never stop. Or at least that is how it will seem. You see, I can do amazing things, oh yes I can. P
erhaps I will swell your head until you cannot lift it. Or perhaps I will infect you with a disease that eats you alive, ooh, yes. Perhaps that. But you will not know. You will not know until I arrive at your door.” The saliva dripped off of the duke's chin and hit Justan’s foot. Then he straightened and moved towards the tent flap. The spell began to dissipate.
“I am n-not afraid.” Justan said weakly.
The wizard giggled again and was gone.
Justan shuddered. Obviously, the duke enjoyed inducing fear in his prisoners. Justan's only advantage at this point was that the duke saw him as a mere annoyance or a plaything as he had put it. If the man had been truly interested, he could have found out more about Justan. He could have had him stripped and found the runes on his body.
Justan winced at the idea. If he was taken to the dungeon, the Duke would find out about them eventually. He had to escape before that happened.
He tried to get through to Gwyrtha again, but he was interrupted as men entered the tent and dragged him outside.
They pulled him past a dozen campfires surrounded with men laughing and drinking, some of them with empty eyed women at their side. One woman looked at Justan with sorrow and he realized that it was the woman from the city, the one that he thought he had saved. The man with her pointed at him and whispered. Her face turned ashen and she looked away.
The men brought Justan to a larger tent that was actually properly staked and lit. He was thrust inside. A large hulk of a man that looked somewhat familiar grasped Justan by the waist and threw him over his shoulder.
Justan heard the voice of the duke.
“Now my dear, I believe that we are ready to go. Yes we are.”
“What do you mean, dear Ewzad?” came Elise’s voice.
“Just watch, my dear Princess.” A hum filled the tent and Justan felt a surge of power. He crooked his head to see what was going on and saw a shimmer in the air. With his mage sight what Justan saw was unbelievable. To enact such a spell, the man had to be nearly as powerful as Master Latva!
“What is that?” Elise asked.
“A doorway, dear. Watch this. Yes, I think that you will find it most amusing.” The Duke’s tone of voice changed a bit as he addressed the large man carrying Justan. “Hamford, might you please escort our prisoner to the dungeon keeper?”
“Yes, my Master,” the man said. Justan began to struggle, having realized that his plans for escape were falling apart. He didn’t want to be brought through that doorway.
“Wait! Stop! There has been a m-!”
The wizard gestured and Justan’s body froze, every muscle inaccessible.
“Take him Hamford. Won’t you? Yes, he will be frozen for at least an hour,” the wizard said.
The man took a few large steps and the air shimmered around them. His stomach lurched. There wasn’t much left of Justan’s last meal in his stomach, but if he hadn’t been frozen, he would have lost it. When the shimmering dissipated, Justan found himself in a large room with a rough-hewn floor and an immense throne raised up in the middle.
His captor carried him through a door in the back of the room and down a curving staircase, jolting Justan’s ribs with every step. The air grew thick and moldy and soon Justan smelled an awful stench. Screams of agony and despair filled the stairway. They passed a series of doorways until stopping at one that Hamford opened with a key and entered.
Then Justan heard a voice that he had hoped never to hear again.
“So, what do you have for me, Hamford?”
“A special prisoner of the duke’s. This is the one that killed Huck.” The big man turned and Justan looked an astonished Kenn Dollie in the eyes.
The greasy haired man stared in shock and began to laugh. “I don’t believe it! Hamford, you have no idea what you have brought me!”
“You know this guy?”
“I certainly do. He’s an old friend of mine, you might say.” He reached up to Justan’s face and grasped his cheeks with dirty fingers. “Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce, so good to see you.” Hamford lurched in recognition at the sound of Faldon’s name.
Kenn grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “I had hoped to meet you again one day and what an honor that it should come so soon. I am really looking forward to this. See, I have a cell that would be just perfect for you!”
If Justan could have moved, he would have gulped.
Chapter Thirty
Gwyrtha’s roar pierced the night sky, startling nightbirds into flight and causing a farmer that lived a mile away to grab his sword and stand guard nervously over his family.
“What’s wrong with the gall-durn thing now?” Lenny grumbled as he raised his head from his bedroll.
Qyxal, who had also been trying to sleep, gave the dwarf an irritated glance as he got to his feet and ran over to Gwyrtha. “I don’t know what is wrong, but something just happened. Something bad.”
Zambon, who had been out keeping watch, came running into the camp. “What was that? Stanza and Albert went crazy when Gwyrtha roared. Is anything wrong?”
“Yes,” Qyxal said. “But I don't know what it is yet.” He turned back to Gwyrtha, stroking her mane and whispering to her soothingly.
“Do you think Justan's hurt?” Zambon asked.
Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. “What in tarnation? Listen here! The boy's bein' held in a camp full of drunk fools. He can't be too comfortable right now. But until they move him, there ain't nothin' we can do about it!” He glared at them and laid back down. “I don't like it no more than the rogue horse does, but dag-nab it, we can't have her hollerin' all night. We'll have every gall-durn monster hunter in the city out lookin' fer us!”
“Perhaps if anyone did come, your constant grumbling would scare them away,” Zambon replied.
He walked over to Gwyrtha with concern. During the journey from the MageSchool she had been playful and fairly well behaved. But now she was agitated, shuffling back and forth with her feet, her eyes fixed on a single point straight ahead. Zambon patted her flank in an effort to be comforting and could feel her powerful muscles rippling beneath her scaled hide.
In that moment he felt a pang of envy for the bond Justan had with this creature. The first time that Zambon had seen Gwyrtha, his mind was focused on thoughts of his family and he had not shown his shock at seeing her. She had been frightening at first glance, a nightmare amalgam of horse and monster. It had taken a while for him to trust her, but after seeing her interact with Justan, Zambon had realized that she was a noble beast that dearly loved her companion.
“Don’t worry, Gwyrtha. We’ll get him back for you,” Zambon soothed and turned to Qyxal. “What's wrong? What do you think is bothering her?”
Qyxal's brow furrowed and he moved directly in front of her. The elf grasped her large head on either side and stared into her eyes. This went on for several moments and Zambon was about to go back to his guard post when the elf muttered.
“He's gone.”
Lenny sat up again. “What was that?”
“He's gone,” Qyxal repeated. He continued to stare into Gwyrtha's eyes. “Justan isn't in the camp anymore.”
“How do you know this?” Zambon asked.
“After Justan cut off his communication with us last night, Gwyrtha was staring at the city. It was like she was trying to reach him. But now look at her. She stares to the north of the Duke's camp. I looked into her eyes and she stared right through me. She must still be trying to reach him but I think he's been moved.”
“Well I'll be horseshoed!” Lenny exclaimed. “They've already left the camp. And this dag-gum late at night at that! Id’ve sworn they wouldn't leave 'till mornin'.” He began packing up his bedroll and belongings. “C'mon boys, we gots to move, now.”
Zambon hesitated. “But what if they haven't taken him out of the city? What if he's escaped? The direction that Gwyrtha's looking . . . He could just about be in the inner section.”
Lenny shook his head. “I reckon you could be right about tha
t, but I don't think it's likely. Gettin' in the inner section ain’t an easy thing to do ‘less you got permission from the king.”
“Agreed, but I suggest we check her again on the other side of Dremald.” Zambon said. “If she is still facing towards town, we'll know to go in and get him.”
Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) Page 33
