by James Fuller
Astaroth listened to the sound of fighting and tried to use it to forget the agonizing pain that assaulted his leg and shoulders when he tried to right himself, but it was no use. The enemy spear held him firmly to the ground. An outlandish, prickling feeling was spreading through him but he pushed his concern aside as everything around him went silent.
“Fancy meeting you all the way out here,” a soft, assured voice said with a touch of amusement. “What you are not even going to stand and say ‘thank you’ for saving your hide?”
“Now is not the time for your casual wit,” he grunted through gritted teeth.
“You are never any fun,” Vashina purred, standing over him. “You are lucky I happened along when I did.” She gripped the spear in both hands. “Brace yourself; this is going to hurt—a lot.”
Astaroth bit down hard on his lower lip to contain himself as Vashina pulled first the spear shaft and then the arrow from him. He forced himself past the shattering pain and focused on healing his wounds. Before he had done more than tap into his innate abilities, unbearable pain lanced through him like liquid fire in his veins. His vision blurred and his mind felt like it would explode at any moment - he had not even noticed he was screaming.
“Stop!” Vashina barked out, shaking him. “Stop it you fool! Do not use your powers!”
Astaroth barely heard her through his own whimpering as he fought back the violent trembling that shuddered through him. He rolled onto his side and vomited until there was nothing left within him.
“Clearly you forgot that Sintu weapons were tipped with dragon-bone powder,” Vashina bent down and wiped the sweat and grime from his face.
“A painful lesson that shall not be forgotten again,” he groaned.
Vashina poured water from her canteen onto a clean rag and began cleaning out his wounds, ignoring his curses as she dug her fingers in deep, ensuring she got as much of the cursed powder as possible. She held her hand over the spear wound and slowly let her healing energy flow into him. As the wound began to close, Astaroth clenched his teeth to near breaking as he struggled against the suffering that ripped through him. The veins in his neck and arms bulged as his muscles involuntarily contracted and twisted cruelly.
“Are you going to be all right?” Vashina asked him once the wound had finally closed; the scar still remained but could be dealt with later.
Astaroth stared into the thick, changing malachite hues of canopy of the jungle above him as he steadied his breathing once more. “I will be fine now that that is over,” he groaned.
Vashina frowned down at him. “It is not over yet, there are still two more wounds to heal.”
Astaroth knew his face paled but did his best to compose himself. “Do not stop until it is done this time.”
“As you wish.”
Astaroth blinked away the salty crust that lined his eyes and soon realized pain no longer ravaged through him yet his head still held on to a dull throbbing. “Vashina?” he groaned with a dry throat.
“I am still here,” she replied as she went to him.
“What happened?”
“You blacked out, which was a good as it made healing you…easier.” She smirked.
“Are they all dead?”
Vashina’s grin was full of malevolence. “All but two - I figured you would like to vent your anger on someone.”
“You know me well, my pet,” he groaned as he tried to sit up.
Vashina extended her hand. “Come… let me get you off that ground. It is unsightly to have you in such a way with your clothes still on,” she teased, pulling him slowly to his feet.
Astaroth forced back dizziness and the aching in his body as he went to the two kneeling, hooded captives. “You have a lot of nerve, attacking me!” He growled, pulling the blinding hoods off.
“Master!” Keithen exclaimed. “You are alive, thank the Creator!”
“Keithen?” Astaroth said in surprise. “Cut him loose Vashina…he is with me.”
“I tried to tell her, Master, but she would not listen to me,” Keithen whimpered.
Vashina grabbed Keithen and hauled him to his feet angrily, cut the leather cord around his hands and then shoved him away.
“But you,” Astaroth’s voice turned hard with hatred as he noticed the man’s empty quiver, “you tried to kill me like a coward with a bow! At least your brethren had the courage to attack me face to face.”
The dark-eyed Sintu warrior glared up at him and spat at Astaroth’s feet. “What makes you think you still will not die?” He grinned. “Can you feel it yet? Inside you?”
Astaroth backhanded the warrior but the man hardly reacted to the blow. “If I was not in such a hurry I would ensure you would suffer for a fortnight!”
The Sintu smiled up at him. “A pity you did not have the time, I would have enjoyed watching you die even slower.”
The warriors’ cockiness enraged him and he could feel his Gift stir within, yet he knew the powdered dragon-bone would still be in his system and using his powers would be painful. “Keithen…come here.”
Keithen was at his side within an instant. “Yes, Master?”
“Make him suffer.”
Keithen’s eyes glittered with exhilaration. “As you wish, Master.” Flames sprung to life within his palms.
Astaroth went to Vashina. He rolled his injured shoulder, trying to loosen the muscles. “What are you doing here? You should be ensuring Dragon’s Cove has fallen.”
“I was tracking someone - a powerful wizard that was wreaking havoc upon the armies. But it would seem he has eluded me once more.”
“This wizard must be powerful, if he can so elude you…” Astaroth commented. “Has Dragon’s Cove fallen?”
“By now? It will have,” Vashina replied. “Now it is your turn. What are you doing out here and with the likes of him?” Vashina nodded towards Keithen, who was still busy torturing the Sintu warrior.
Astaroth nearly flinched at the question. “I was found out and had to leave…quickly.”
“This is going to hinder our plans in getting Kinor to give us what we need.”
Astaroth massaged his sore shoulder. “Yes it is, but only part of it. I am glad we have crossed paths so soon, it will give us time to plan our next move.”
*****
Kinor rode a mighty black war-horse into the army camp, flanked by eight scores of fiercely armed warriors and a handful of deranged priests and priestesses. His signature white tiger-skin cloak shone like a beacon, announcing who he was and those around quickly recognized who had entered camp and were quick to bow their heads in fearful respect.
Kinor could hardly contain his displeasure at seeing his army still outside the walls of Dragon’s Cove. His war-horse sensed his discontentment and stomped its giant hoof into the ground. “You there,” Kinor pointed to a younger warrior, “where is Valka?”
The youth swallowed back his fear as he stood rigid. “I believe she was last seen within her tent in the northern part of the camp, Elder Shaman.” It came out as a stutter as he pointed north, his eyes trying to avoid locking with Kinor’s.
“Who?” Kinor asked, his voice hard.
The young warrior looked confused. “Valka, Elder Shaman.”
Kinor motioned for one of his warriors to seize the youth. “That would be High Priestess Valka!” He snapped angrily. “You forget your place, boy!” Kinor looked to his men. “Quarter him.”
“Please no, Elder Shaman!” The youth begged, falling to his knees, thick tears already streaming down his face as his limbs were bound to four horses.
“Pathetic,” Kinor snarled and motioned his men to begin. The young warrior’s screams were deafening. “An example, to anyone else who might think to forget themselves.”
“Valka!” Kinor bellowed angrily, storming into the High Priestess’s quarters. He hesitated only a moment as he took in the erotic scene before him, his temper trumping his stirring desire and he cleared the room with several large steps. He grabbed a
fistful of long, red hair and pulled one of the naked girls off Valka, throwing her across the room, as a large clump of hair fell from his hand. The other got a heavy hand across the face that nearly knocked her unconscious.
“Kinor!” Valka gasped in surprise as the two girls quickly snatched up their clothing and ran from the tent. “I was not expecting you here this early.”
“What would you have done differently? Had a third whore’s head between your legs?” He snapped coldly as he stalked around the room, trying to cool his wrath and avoid striking her.
Valka rose from the soft pile of pillows and exotic animal hides calmly. “No, I would have had a welcome fitting for a King,” she purred, ignoring her own discarded clothing.
“I gave you one task, Valka…one… and more than enough resources to do so and here, I see you are fulfilling your lustful desires instead of completing that task! Maybe I was wrong in choosing you to be High Priestess. You were never my first choice.”
Valka’s sharp chin lifted defiantly as she did her best to ignore the verbal slap. “I was celebrating our morning’s victory. The castle is now ours, Elder Shaman.”
Kinor licked his lips, the fury behind his eyes beginning to subside at the good news. “It should not have taken this long.”
Valka nodded her head in agreement. “Under normal circumstances it would not have...”
Kinor brow rose. “I do not want to hear excuses.”
“Then I shall tell you none,” Valka countered. “The castle is yours - that is all that matters now.”
Kinor’s eyes lingered upon Valka’s soft, naked curves and found his lustful thoughts were quickly beginning to overwhelm his anger. Two castles were in his possession now and a third would fall soon…if Astaroth kept to his end of the bargain. The tribes were coming together now for a single purpose – conquest. As long he kept them busy fighting the enemy, they would not have time to fight amongst themselves. Maybe it was time to celebrate and release some tension.
Valka recognized the licentious look in his eyes and knew what he wanted. “Come to me and we will celebrate together,” she cooed.
Kinor stepped forward and embraced her tightly against him, his hands exploring flesh he had known often, yet it never failed to please him. “Call in the other two again, my appetite is large today,” he whispered greedily.
“As you expected, Elder Shaman, all the food and drink has been poisoned,” a warrior reported. “Even the livestock that was left was killed and their meat tainted.”
“Foolish, our enemy was not,” Kinor muttered, leaning back against the large chair within the audience chamber and waved the warrior away and the next stepped forth. “What news do you have of the wizard in the underground water cavern?” Kinor’s voice was stern. His warriors and horses needed fresh water and the four wells within the courtyard and stables had been deliberately collapsed and would take days to repair.
“Elder Shaman, we have been unable to locate the troublesome wizard and his men. They hide like cowards within the underground cavern and strike at random, and then flee once more into the dark depths, where we cannot reach them.”
Kinor’s eyes burned with fury and he threw his crystal wine glass at the warrior, who took the assault without flinching. “How does one meager wizard and a handful of puny soldiers cause such problems for my great and fearless warriors?”
“Elder Shaman, I...”
“Are you not the Ferocious Keldon, Leader of the Fire-Eater Clan?” Kinor growled, standing from his throne.
The large warrior stood taller, his jaw firming. “I am.” He announced proudly, pounding his fist to his chest.
“Have you not killed forty three men in single combat in the Circle of Fates?” Kinor questioned as he descended the steps to stand in front of the imposing figure.
“I have!” Keldon exclaimed proudly.
Flames ignited within Kinor’s palm. “Then kill this wizard and his men, or you will face me within the Circle of Fates and you will be another forgotten number!”
“Their blood will stain my blade, Elder Shaman,” Keldon growled, before bowing. Dismissed, he turned and left the room.
Kinor looked to the final warrior who now stood nervously before him. He grinned inwardly at the man’s noticeable anxiety - he relished in his power over others. “You had better have good news for me.”
“Sorry, Elder Shaman, I do not.” The warrior licked his lips timidly before continuing. “The Lord of Dragon’s Cove and his army of riders still roam the countryside, attacking our supply lines.”
Kinor could no longer contain himself. The stone beneath the warrior’s feet began to heat up. The warrior quickly noticed and was about to step off the stone. “If you move from that spot, you will find your head upon a pike!” The warrior held his ground as the stone continued to rise in temperature, causing his hide boot to sizzle and smolder. “I do not tolerate failure.”
The warrior grimaced as the protective barrier of his boots no longer held back the intense heat from the soles of his feet. “Yes, Elder Shaman!”
The smell of burning flesh wafted into the air and Kinor could see the warrior was having extreme difficulty remaining still and silent. “We have an army of thousands and him a mere few hundred… I want them dead, all of them!”
“Yes, Elder Shaman.” The warrior’s voice nearly cracked as he fought to control himself. He could feel his skin blistering and melting to the stone.
Kinor stopped the flow of power into the stone and the look of relief was nearly immediate on the warriors face. “Take with you four Priests and Priestesses and deal with this annoyance, once and for all.”
“Yes, Elder Shaman, it shall be done.” The warrior did his best not to limp away as he left the room.
“See what I have had to deal with?” Valka replied coolly, coming in from a side corridor. “If it was not for their strength, ferocity and sheer numbers…we would never have made it this far.”
“If they were smarter, they would not be so easily controlled.” Kinor reminded her.
“You know we have won a great victory here. It would be wise to reward the warriors lest they begin to feel,” Valka paused, “used.”
Kinor rubbed his brow in frustration. He had been thinking that very thing all that morning. Fear and respect could only hold them in check for so long. “We do not have the resources for a feast. Lord Marcus and his vicious little army are hurting our supply lines more than I care to admit.”
Valka smiled cunningly. “Leave the feast to me and mine.”
Kinor’s brow rose in question but he did not rise to the bait. “Do as you will, Valka - I trust you will not disappoint the men.”
“I never disappoint men,” Valka cooed.
The small, determined band moved along the shiny surface with wary footsteps. The light of their torches danced eerily off the polished ice and smooth stone of the cavern. It was treacherous going and they had already lost two men. They had slipped from the ice into the traitorous waters. There had been no saving them; they had disappeared from sight before anyone had had a chance to react.
“This tunnel is endless!” A warrior bellowed in frustration, trying to mask his apprehension, his eyes never leaving the deadly water.
“We should go back, Warlord!” Another warrior said. “There is no honor in dying down here!”
Keldon was beginning to think the same thing, yet it made no sense that the tricky wizard and his soldiers could travel the underground waterway, attack and then vanish. They were hiding somewhere down here; he just needed to find out where. “We keep going forward,” Keldon growled, pushing the scraggly priest forward on the ledge of ice he was creating for them to walk upon. Keldon knew if he went back to the Elder Shaman empty-handed, that he was as good as dead. He already decided he would rather die here than by his hands.
Obediently, the group moved on.
“Wait!” One of the ragged priests finally bellowed.
“What is it?”
&
nbsp; The priest leaned forward stood and tiptoes, lifting his nose as high as it would go. “Smell that?”
“Smell what?” A warrior barked out nervously. “Smell nothing but water.”
Keldon held up his hand to silence his men, even though he could hardly hear them against the rushing water. He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed. “Fresh air!” Keldon called out in disbelief.
With a new found eagerness, the small group made it to the side entrance that Dragon’s Cove had used to escape. The sudden, bright light of the sun burned their eyes, but the sound of movement and chatter kept them moving forward.
Keldon motioned for his warriors to stop as he crawled his way towards the small ledge of the hillside. Down below him was the wizard and his men eating around a small cook fire, making what he was sure was small talk. He grinned broadly.
“We should rejoin with Lord Marcus,” one of the archers said, stirring the coals with a stick, favoring his left shoulder.
Antiel had been thinking the same thing all morning. They had done great work keeping the enemy from safely retrieving much fresh water since they had taken the castle, but it was a great strain on his Gift creating the ice walkway. And he knew his powers could be better put to use in open battle. “We will rest for the morning and join our Lord this afternoon.”
“Sounds good. I truly had no interest in going back within that cave again,” another archer commented, gaining nods of agreement from everyone.
Before Antiel could speak again the fire flared, engulfing the unsuspecting archer who had been stirring the coals. Screams quickly overtook the small camp as the ground split in several spots and men fell into the dark depths.
Antiel was on his feet and felt a shadow looming above him. He glanced up, his hand coming alive with energy as a large warrior, brandishing a mighty sword descended down on him from the rock side.
Chapter 13
Meath grinned determinedly and blinked away the droplets of salty sweat stinging his eyes. The thought of shifting aside the long, soaked hair that clung to his face was fleeting as he sidestepped around another array of calculated attacks. He had never exerted himself to this point - both physically and mentally exhausted. As tired as he was, he could not have been more focused and determined to continue.
