by Philip Smith
Philip lives in the hollers of Kentucky, writing his next adventure as he continues to build his homestead.
Meanwhile, in the Heart of the Ohlmar Mountains...
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride for a bit?” Dinendale asked the magician.
Woodcarver shook his head, his long stride keeping up easily with the young rust-colored horse.
Dinendale shrugged.
“I want to enjoy my legs while I still have the ability to walk,” Woodcarver smirked, his staff crunching in the rocky earth of the mountain they were skirting around as they headed south. Dinendale looked up at the bleak sky. Only another month and these dreary mountains would be covered in a thick blanket of snow. He thought back to his friends in the valley, wondering if he had made the right choice.
“Son of Aedard, you are doing the right thing,” the magician said, not even having to look at the elf to know the conflict that raged within him.
“Couldn’t we have at least told them? Told Paige?”
“You know we couldn’t.”
Dinendale scowled. He knew the magician was right, but it did not lessen the ache in his heart at having to leave so quickly and not have the chance to say goodbye, or to explain.
Dinendale touched the still tender burn mark on his throat. It lay right atop the jugular vein, a vein Dinendale knew all too well from his years hunting and fighting.
“And you’re sure we can’t just cut it out?”
“Not unless you want to bleed to death.”
“I still don’t understand how it could work. I have the Aondraíoch curse. It’s supposed to keep magic from being able to affect me, isn’t it?”
“It is, but a Branding Spell doesn’t work like that. Aondraíoch Curses only work by blocking magic from directly affecting your body. So you cannot have your life-force leached from you through magic, which is also why healing spells won’t affect you. But someone could still use magic to throw you against a wall, or as in your case, brand you so they can find you if they have the object that marked you.”
“And none of this was worth sharing earlier?”
“You’re the one who had the curse put on you. I figured you’d know it’s limitations before making such a rash decision.”
Dinendale glared at the magician but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t think a person of Woodcarver’s power to have the perspective on magic that Dinendale did. But he knew the man was right; he should have paid more attention before he’d had the curse put on him all those years ago.
“But what’s done is done,” Woodcarver said. “And the sooner we get to Karadúr, the sooner we can try and find a solution.”
“You really think the dwarves will be able to help?”
“I don’t know. But we have to try. They may not have many Mages left. But the ones they do have are very powerful, and they may be the only ones capable of concealing both of us from the Shahir.”
Dinendale glared at Woodcarver.
“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for failing to tell me about that part of your plan.”
Woodcarver pulled Paige’s leather scroll out from his cloak and pointed it in the air for emphasis.
“My deception was necessary, and if you understood half of the importance of this page or the sacrifice spilt to retrieve it, you wouldn’t judge me so harshly, elf.”
“No deception was necessary. All those men were never anything shy of honest with you. And Paige? She trusted you.”
“I do not need a lecture from you, Dinendale. There are more things at stake here than anyone’s opinion of my moral character.”
“It’s not about an opinion. It’s about honor,” snapped the dark elf. The magician whirled around to face Dinendale and thrust his palm outwards.
“Thryvyne!”
Dinendale felt himself punched by an invisible force and felt his body thrown from the saddle and dropped violently to the ground. He scrambled up and drew his sword, but the magician shouted another ancient word and Dinendale felt his hand sear as the iron became too hot to hold. He dropped it with a shout, but before he could rush the man, Woodcarver thrust his hand out, and Dinendale felt his body picked up into the air and slammed into the trunk of a large beech tree. The magician held him there, the elf’s arms trapped at his side under coils of invisible rope.
“Now as long as you’re just hanging up there, pay attention,” Woodcarver snapped. “Honor has nothing to do with this. This is about keeping them safe and keeping this out of the hands of a deranged madman. He will stop at nothing to get this back, and he will kill anyone who stands in his way. The Shahir is obsessed, and he will not quit so long as life is in his body. He will hunt you like an animal as he has hunted me like an animal. Trust me, that is not where you want to be, and it sure as the moons isn’t the kind of danger you want to put Paige in. Or am I wrong?”
The magician was shouting by now, his clear eyes flashing. He released Dinendale who fell the the ground with a thud. The elf moaned as his still battered body received the concussive force with a less than stellar landing. The magician crouched down next to him and looked Din square in the eye.
“I know, Dinendale. I know because he killed my Alwasu forty-two years ago.”
“What?”
“Aye,” Woodcarver said, his tone now a mere somber whisper as he grabbed the elf firmly by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “And that is why we must protect them. Once the Shahir sees what Prince Feridar saw in his last moments, he will not hesitate to use her against you and vise versa. She has enough of a burden to bear as it stands.”
“What burden? Is she still in danger?”
“Because of who she is she will always be in danger,” Woodcarver said, pulling Din up to his feet. “And so it is our job to make sure we do everything we can to keep him away from her.”
Dinendale was quiet for a moment before he shook himself free of the magician’s grasp and brushed the dirt off his cloak and sleeves.
“Fine. But we’ll come back as soon as it is safe?”
“Well, we’re not going to abandon family,” Woodcarver assured. “But first we have to get your new… condition addressed.”
Dinendale mounted the horse one again.
“Fine. Let’s hope your plan works.”
“I’d trust these doctors and mages with my life,” Woodcarver assured him. “And if there’s one thing I can say for certain about dwarves, they are problem solvers.”
Dinendale will return
in
The Crypt
Book Two in The Eirensgarth Saga
THE BROTHERHOOD
Copyright © 2018 by Philip Smith
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact :
1:5 Media Publishing Group
1150 Anderson Dr.
Paris, TN 38242
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Cover Design by Tom McGrath, http://www.spikedmcgrath.com/
Cover Title Design: Phil Smith
Contributing Editors: Rachel Speer, Morgan Crain, and Marissa Grammol
Copy Editor: Karin Salisbury
First Edition: Feb 9th, 2019
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