by Adams, David
The first wave of fleeing citizens started to stream towards them. Some ran blindly, others dove into doors or under stalls, hoping to find some refuge. The lead group of the winged monsters was in close pursuit, diving to bite and claw at the panicked people of New Bern.
For a minute, the travelers stood frozen, watching the spectacle before them. Finally Darius shoved Luke toward the still-open door of a tanner’s shop. “Let’s get inside before we’re locked out!” Having started the group moving, Darius acted as shepherd, touching each of his companions on the shoulder as they passed. He came up one short.
Barlow remained affixed in place, his gaze intent on the flying creatures, his left hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Come on, Barlow!” Darius called. “You can’t fight those things with a sword.”
“Get inside,” Barlow repeated.
Darius’ shout had stopped the others in their flight to the dubious safety of the shop. Luke had just reached the door, which he now held open against the tanner’s first half-hearted attempt to close it. Adrianna was a step behind. Silas moved back towards Darius and his friend.
“Barlow, don’t be a fool! Get inside!” Silas shouted.
Barlow spared him a glance. “Go on. I’ve got things under control here.” His words and calm demeanor were ironic considering the swirl of confusion and panic around him. For a lingering moment it seemed that maybe there was something to his steadiness, perhaps a reason that he kept to himself that he was safe amidst the attacking creatures. They took no notice of him, their focus drawn by the panicked motions of those trying to flee. Was he playing possum, successfully?
Whether that was Barlow’s plan or not was rendered moot by a single bat-thing that decided Barlow was a likely target. It swooped in, screeching at its prey, claws outstretched and wings spread wide.
Barlow swatted it aside, sending it sprawling in the dust. He resumed his former stance, but the sudden action had drawn unwanted attention, and now, standing still as he was, he became an easy mark. Dozens of the creatures flew at him.
“Stupid old fool,” Adrianna muttered under her breath. She brushed past Silas to get a clear line-of-sight to Barlow, raised her hands, and said a few words in some arcane tongue. A sphere sprang into being about Barlow, invisible but for a slight blue hue. The first beasts that reached Barlow simply bounced away as they struck the sphere.
The sphere had one other effect. The composed façade Barlow had worn was gone in an instant. Even as he could see the creatures’ attacks blunted by it, he screamed at Adrianna, “Remove the cursed magic, sorceress! I don’t need your help!”
The bat-things learned quickly. Barlow they marked as unreachable, but there were other easy targets merely feet away. The street here was clear of other living targets, the wave of townsfolk now indoors or still running further on. Luke found himself in an escalating fight with the tanner, whose attempts to close the door of his shop were becoming more forceful. Luke begged him to hold on, but refused the tanner’s invitation to come inside himself. He feared leaving his brother and his friends to fend for themselves while he waited behind a closed door, one he feared he might not be able to open again without a fight. For now his foot, which was lodged in the door, and his shoulder, which pushed against it, were being punished but were still maintaining a path to shelter. If only the others would come to the door now…
Darius held his sword aloft, swinging it randomly over his head to ward off the creatures. Silas was using his staff to protect himself and Adrianna, but it was obvious he could only hold out a very short time. The bat-things were starting to approach in groups, sensing many could succeed where one might fail.
“Move toward the door!” Adrianna pleaded to Barlow. “I can only hold it for so long.”
“Don’t hold it, then!” Barlow replied.
One of the creatures caught a claw full of Adrianna’s hair. It continued the arc of its flight long enough to force her to twist her head slightly, then was met by a clean blow from Silas’ staff. It fell aside, dead.
A pair of the beasts fluttered around Luke, and he tried to shoo them away with his free hand. As his weight shifted, the tanner managed to slam the door closed. Even with the shrill cries of the creatures all around him, he could hear with sickening clarity the lock on the door being turned.
Barlow turned to face Adrianna. He closed his eyes and let out a breath to compose himself. “I know what I’m doing. Dispel the sphere. Please.”
Barlow got his wish without Adrianna making a conscious decision to comply. As she returned his gaze, she was thrown off by the sincerity of his expression, and then a pair of the creatures managed to avoid Silas’ protective swipes—which took out three of their fellows—and strike at her. They were moving too swiftly to do any real damage, merely able to scratch with their claws but missing the mark with their snapping teeth. But the blows snapped Adrianna’s concentration and the spell was broken. The sphere vanished.
Any lingering hope that the bat-things lacked intelligence was dispelled with the disappearance of the magical sphere. Understanding the old man was no longer invulnerable, and seeing he still made no movement to flee, they sensed a defenseless target, far easier to hit than the four that had been fighting them off with hands and weapons. As if by unspoken command almost all the creatures in the immediate area went for Barlow.
Silas had reflexively reached for Adrianna and had helped her keep her balance when she had been struck. Unable to react physically in the instant he was given, he simply shouted his friend’s name, a cry of impending loss.
Darius started to move toward Barlow, unsure what he could do to help, wondering if he grabbed the old man and tried to drag him inside if it would be his death as well as Barlow’s.
Since the attack began, other than a single backhand swipe at one of the creatures, Barlow had maintained a still but ready pose, his hand on his sword. Now, as the bat-things descended upon him like some noxious black cloud, he drew his weapon. He did not swing it at the encroaching horde, but rather simply held it aloft, making it as visible as possible.
The sword cast off a white light so intense that the weapon itself was no longer visible. Barlow could feel the vibration it gave off as well, a low hum that approached a tonal quality one might term a barely audible song. Barlow’s companions, as well as any of the townsfolk looking out the windows, were forced to shield their eyes from the sword’s dazzling radiance. The bat-things, unable to do the same, fled with shrieks of mingled agony and frustration. It was not just the creatures in Barlow’s immediate vicinity that departed; the entire flock gave up the city and dashed off in search of easier prey.
As the sounds of the creatures faded in the distance, Barlow lowered the sword, swooned, then fell to one knee. He sheathed his weapon just as Darius reached him.
Darius had shielded his eyes with his hand while the sword blazed, only daring to peek through a small crack between his fingers to see what was happening. As he went to Barlow to steady him, he noted a cross was engraved in the sword, and it was from this that the light had emanated, the last glow fading as the creatures moved off into the distance.
Barlow turned to see that it was Darius who helped keep him upright, and he offered a weak smile. “I’m okay,” he said. “Help me up.”
As he got to his feet, Silas was there, whispering, “I told you you still have much to offer.”
Uncomfortable with the compliment, but not wanting to answer or to try to refute Silas’ conclusion, Barlow looked away. He saw that Luke regarded him with slack-jawed wonder, while Adrianna offered him a nod of congratulations.
The creatures were gone, but what they had wrought remained. The moans and cries of the injured and dying soon filled the air, while those who had avoided harm come out from their shelters to lend aid and start the process of cleaning up.
Silas was able to lend much assistance to those suffering, but for many of the injured, it was again Barlow who had the most to offer, calling o
n his paladin healing skills to counteract the effects of the creatures’ bites. He worked tirelessly through the day and well into the night, until exhaustion overtook him and his companions saw him to one of the many homes offered up by the grateful locals for sleep and nourishment.
When Barlow awoke the next day he found Silas at his bedside. He motioned for some water and drank it slowly, the trembling of his hands betraying the fact that he was not completely recovered from his ordeal. He tried to sit up, but was hit by a wave of dizziness. Yielding to common sense, he lay back down. Seeing Silas’ concern, he said, “I just need a few minutes to collect myself. I’m fine.”
“That was quite a display yesterday. You almost had me believing age was catching up with you, but then the way you dealt with those flying monstrosities…”
“Standing and letting power flow through me isn’t the same as fighting. Yesterday proved nothing other than I can still be His instrument if He so wills it. You know what this means, though.”
“The fact that your sword behaved as it did?”
“Yes.”
Silas nodded, a slow, grudging acknowledgment. “We need to tell the others.”
“Are they about?”
“They would not have wondered far off. I’ll bring them in.”
“I can get up,” said Barlow, rising up on his elbows.
Silas gently pushed him back down. “Take a bit more rest while you can. And here is as good a place as any to talk. We need to meet in private.”
Ten minutes later Darius, Adrianna, and Luke had joined them in the small bedroom. Silas got right to the point.
“Those creatures we faced yesterday were evil. That is why Barlow’s sword took on such a brilliant radiance, and they fled from such a holy light.”
“What do you mean by ‘evil’?” Darius asked. “Are you saying those things had malicious intent, not just the blind hunger of any animal?”
“That and more,” Barlow said. “They were not of this world.”
They pondered his words with expressions of concern and confusion, but none gainsaid him.
Barlow continued. “This should really be no surprise. You have the Book of Dread. Those things—I believe they are called Dezku—are one of an unlimited number of possible manifestations of what one using the book might conjure forth from a lower plane into our world. Actually, I imagine almost anything else called forth would be far more formidable, although these Dezku are dangerous when in great numbers, and their bite is potent. A sort of poison better healed with prayer than any medicine known to man.”
“That’s why those you aided improved far more than those the healers attended,” Adrianna said.
Barlow nodded. “I only wish my strength was endless. I fear to ask how many passed in the night while I slept.”
Silas shot a look at Darius and Luke, an unneeded warning. They all knew in rough terms how many had perished because of the attack. Barlow had done all he could; the added burden of knowing how many hadn’t made it would only slow his recovery and leave a lingering sense of guilt he shouldn’t be forced to carry.
“So now what?” Darius asked. “Will those things return?”
“Not here, I would guess,” Barlow replied. “They’re intelligent enough to avoid New Bern. A parting gift we can leave the locals.”
“So we still go north,” Silas stated. “This attack only confirms what we feared, that the book has been used, and we need to keep it away from Landri and his inner circle.”
“Will you be able to travel soon?” Darius asked Barlow.
Barlow didn’t know the younger man well enough yet to know if the concern on his face was for his health or the time that might be lost waiting for his recuperation. Either way, he hopped out of bed and proclaimed himself ready to go.
As the others filtered out to get their things, Barlow grabbed at Silas’ arm, needing to steady himself. In response to Silas’ raised eyebrows, he said, “Just need a bit of help keeping my balance. Can’t use the power like I could when I was young and not feel it for a time afterward.”
Silas smiled. “Bet it felt good, though.”
Barlow scowled but admitted it was so. “But I don’t want to hear any ‘I told you so’ out of you.”
“Not a word,” Silas promised.
They started to collect Barlow’s belongings, and as Barlow straightened too quickly after retrieving his boots, he found the room starting to spin again, and used Silas’ strong arm to balance himself one more time. He shook his head and mumbled, “I hate getting old.”
As the group set about acquiring the other items they wanted for their journey, it was clear most of the townsfolk had a new respect for Barlow. Most had known him only as a quiet older gentleman who lived alone somewhere across the river. Only a few had actually witnessed the display with the sword, many more his exertions to aid the fallen with his healing touch, but word spread quickly in towns such as New Bern, and almost everyone they passed regarded him with awe and appreciation. However, Barlow took less note of these faces than the stricken looks of those who had lost someone in the attack. Most of those in mourning remained indoors, wanting their privacy, but here and there he locked eyes with someone out on a quick errand that couldn’t wait, and it was in their sad visages that Barlow saw the reproach, the questions about why he couldn’t have saved one more, just one more. It was a question for which he couldn’t give himself an acceptable answer.
By the time they reached the edge of town to start their journey north, they had all the supplies they could carry, given without expectation of payment, including a properly made staff that Silas accepted with great thanks. They even had to turn away gifts of food and clothing that they had no way of taking with them. A dozen people or more asked them to stay, some pleading for their protection, but these requests they had to politely refuse. Despite all the adulation—or rather because of it—Barlow was clearly relieved when they finally departed New Bern.
If the old paladin thought all the attention paid him would abate once they were away, he was sadly mistaken. He soon found the others eyeing him surreptitiously, likely wondering if he was up to a long march. Rather than confront them he simply took the lead and set a brisk pace. An hour down the road he finally was convinced they were no longer focused solely on him, and the conversation, casual and pointless so far, finally turned to their intended route.
Silas gestured at the mountains that rose up before them. “Whether we go over or around the Dragon’s Teeth, we’ll be in Dalusia. Darius, when you left the front, where were the armies?”
“We were camped south of Highland Forest. From there we were going to push toward Antigo or Genola, but I know not which was chosen. I traveled home via the Coast Road. If we go that way, our path will be clear until we reach the front, or so I hope. We could then turn west before reaching the war.”
“The Coast Road would add several weeks to our journey,” Adrianna pointed out. “I would hate to take the longest route if it could be avoided.”
“Well,” said Silas, “if we go west from here, we could try passing through toward Wingate Falls, or continue south of the mountains and cross at The Plateau.”
“I’d pass through, if we could,” Darius suggested. “The Plateau offers little shelter and is well-patrolled on both sides. At this point we want to see neither the Dalusian army nor our own.”
“How do we cross the Vale River?” Adrianna asked. “Are there other bridges than the one we left behind at New Bern?”
“I do not believe so,” answered Barlow. “But closer to its source it can be forded. We will be in the foothills before we turn west.”
In terms of physical conditions for travel they could really ask for no better than what they now experienced. They passed along the banks of a broad, flowing river, under the shade of the towering trees that framed it. The day was warm but peasant, the blue sky dotted now and then by high, thin clouds. But it was difficult to simply enjoy the hike, knowing what had just passed
and wondering what might yet be before them.
Darius found himself behind Barlow, and for a time he watched the sheathed sword on the older man’s hip as it rose and fell with the cadence of his stride. He marveled at the raw power of it, hidden and secret now. If he had found it on a table in New Bern’s market he would have passed it by without a second glance, more than content with his own blade. How much of the power, he wondered, was in the sword, and how much was from Barlow? He quickened his step to pull even with the paladin.
Barlow saw Darius move up and nodded once in welcome.
“Mind a few questions?” Darius asked.
“Ask away,” Barlow replied. “We shouldn’t have secrets if we’re going to be traveling together.”
“Obviously I’m more than a little bit curious about your sword.”
“Of course,” Barlow said, patting the weapon. “I hadn’t thought I’d wield Gabriel again, and for the most part, I wish that were the case. A shroud of evil is falling upon our world, one I’m not sure can be fended off.”
“ ‘Gabriel?’ The weapon has a name?”
“Given by my mentor. Named after the archangel. It certainly seemed a fitting moniker yesterday.”
“How did you come to have such a weapon?”
“The same man who named it bestowed it on me when my training was complete. It had been his sword, and he felt a younger and stronger arm should wield it.” Barlow laughed ruefully at his own words. “At my age, I feel the same way. Perhaps I should have taken on a student years ago, when the ways of the paladin were not ways that needed to be hidden from the world. I don’t know what will happen to Gabriel when I am gone, but I fear its light may never shine again.”
They walked for a time in silence, Darius unsure what to say.
“I’m sorry,” Barlow eventually said. “I find I’ve become dour in my old age. Sometimes I forget the young still have hope for this world.”
“You have none?”
“I suppose I still do. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
