“What are we going to do?” Kylin asked, looking at both men.
“I need to go to Angar and see what’s amiss.” Atticus looked at the bodies around him. “Let’s get further away from these bodies and set up camp. From there I will leave you to go to Angar.”
Tyril looked up through the canopy of trees to try and judge the sun’s location. It was hard to see but based on when they entered the forest he had a pretty good idea that night was fast approaching. “Angar is several hours away. I don’t think you’ll make it before dark.”
Atticus smiled. “Do not worry about that. Come, follow me. We can talk more once we distance ourselves from these bodies.”
Korum leapt into the brush and disappeared into the shadows as Atticus headed northwest. He kept his pace at a slow jog hoping that the two would be able to keep up. Tyril was glad that Kylin was wearing hunting breaches and well-made boots as the dress she wore the other night at dinner would have posed a serious problem in the dense brush. It turned out that the princess was not foreign to running, and she was able to keep up with them just fine. They crossed the original road they were on and ran for another hour before Atticus stopped in the middle of a grassy clearing. The glade was small; maybe five paces in diameter, and huge trees surrounded it, each one as big around as ten people standing shoulder to shoulder in a tight circle. Their branches spanned out over them, nearly blocking their view of the sky. Soft grass and moss grew all around them, the green carpet climbing the trees as well.
“This is a good spot,” Atticus said as he unslung his pack from his shoulders. “The sun will set soon. Let’s make a fire and rest.”
“Fire? The enemy will see it,” Tyril warned.
“They will not. I will place a shielding around us.” Atticus sat down on the soft ground and placed his hands on the grass. Tyril and Kylin stood and watched as he sat still, his eyes closed, his mouth moving as foreign words caught their ear. After a few moments he opened them. “It is done.”
“What did you do?” Kylin asked as she leaned her crossbow against a tree.
“A shielding is when I ask the surroundings to hide us. If anyone were to walk by, they would see only forest. They will not hear, see, or smell us. We are safe.”
Tyril didn’t look so confident. He was ignorant about most magic, and therefore had no confidence in it. “How do we even know you are who you say you are?”
“Good question,” Atticus said as he stood. “Perhaps you would like to ask…” and then he disappeared in a flash and standing in his place was a deer. In both their minds they heard the word me, before the deer disappeared and turned back into the druid. “I can do more if you’d like,” the druid said, smiling mischievously.
Tyril’s eyes were wide. “No, I think I am convinced.”
“Good. I’ll make a fire and prepare some food. Then we can talk.”
Kylin and Tyril helped Atticus gather some wood and soon the druid had a big warm fire built. Then he dug around in his pack and produced a water skin and three bars of some unknown food. He gave one to each of them and started to eat his own. The bars were slightly sticky and looked like a mixture of grain, fruits, and nuts.
“What are these?” Kylin asked.
“I make them myself. They are mostly made of fruit, nuts, grains, and honey, but I have a few secret ingredients as well. They are full of energy. One bar can get you through an entire day. Try it, you’ll like it.”
She shrugged and bit into the bar. She was hungry and he was right, it was very good. It was crunchy and chewy and slightly sweet. Tyril followed her lead and it wasn’t long before the bars were gone. Both were famished and their bodies needed the energy.
It was then that Atticus noticed the cut on the inside of Tyril’s leg. “You are hurt.”
Tyril nodded, angling his leg so they could see. “Sword cut. Luckily it’s shallow. I should clean it.”
“Won’t be necessary,” Atticus said as he moved next to Tyril. Keeping one hand on the ground, he touched the inside of Tyril’s leg just below the wound. “Don’t worry,” he said when he saw Tyril’s discomfort. “I will not harm you.” Then he closed his eyes and whispered several words. Within five heartbeats a slight glow emanated from his hand on Tyril’s leg, and in even less time the small cut sealed up. The only evidence of the wound was the blood that was still soaked into his leggings. “See, nothing to worry about,” he said as he moved away.
Tyril looked impressed, and a little in awe. “Thank you. The pain is gone.”
Atticus nodded. “Now, tell me what happened?”
“My King and Kylin’s father, King Oneck, had spent the day negotiating the peace treaty when King Rothar told him of the demon’s escape,” Tyril began. “When he heard the news he was furious as he had let Kylin hunt in the forest for the day. So my father, the Battle Lord, as an apology, requested that he take twenty Red Guard soldiers into the forest to bring her back, which we did. But before we made it back to Angar we were attacked by Tur’el troops. My father sent me away while they fought. I do not know what has happened to them. All I know is we rode hard to distance ourselves from them. Then we ditched the horses and went on foot, thinking it would be harder for them to find us. But they did, and that’s when you arrived.”
“I see,” Atticus said, thinking.
“It seems that King Oneck never meant to uphold the treaty,” Tyril continued, thinking out loud. “I’m afraid for my king and the people of Angar.”
Atticus looked directly at Kylin. “And you knew nothing of this betrayal?”
She was still angry from Tyril’s earlier accusation so it didn’t take much to have it boil over again. “No!” she said. “I do not get along with my father!” She was adamant. “I assumed he was marrying me off, not just for peace, but to get rid of me. I hate the man! And now you see why! I will say it one more time, so do not question me again. I had nothing to do with my father’s betrayal!”
Atticus sighed and Tyril was silent. He wanted to believe her, and she definitely seemed sincere. The question now was…what were they going to do with her? They could send her back. But maybe she didn’t want to go back. He could bring her back to Lanard with him, but then what?
“Perhaps King Oneck had capitalized on the situation when the Battle Lord had suggested finding you on his own,” Atticus mused, glancing at Kylin. “After all, if he had no intention of signing the treaty, than he may have seen his chance at taking out the Rothar Battle Lord.” Atticus looked at Tyril. “I’m sorry, Tyril, but I’m afraid you should expect the worst. But there is always a chance, and I need to go see what has happened at Angar before we make any decisions.” Atticus stood. “Stay here. I will be back soon.”
Tyril was looking into the fire, his eyes heavy and sad. Then he looked up, his expression shifting to doubt. “How are you going to travel through the forest at night?”
Atticus smiled, and suddenly he was no longer there, and flapping its wings in his place was a small black raven. Like this he said in their minds. And then he flew up into the branches, disappearing into the night.
“Well that’s a first,” Tyril said as he threw another log onto the fire. They didn’t say anything for a while, both staring into the flames. Finally Tyril broke the silence. “So, what do you want to do?”
Kylin looked up, her eyes sad. “What do you mean?”
“Do you want to go back home, or come to Lanard?”
“I don’t know. I won’t be welcome in Lanard, especially if my father is leading an army there. But I don’t want to go back home either. I hate it there. Believe it or not, despite my hesitation at marrying a man so much older than I, I was looking forward to a new adventure, anything to get out of my own existence.”
“Was it really that bad?”
It took her a moment before she answered. “I guess one would say it couldn’t have been that bad, after all I lived in an opulent castle and I had anything I wanted or needed.” Her sad eyes looked up at Tyril again. “But t
hat was all I had. My father did not love me, his attention saved for his son. And even then he was incapable of showing any sort of affection. My mother is weak and does whatever my father says. To be honest, she is afraid of him. He would hit her on occasion, and me as well. I rarely left the castle, I had no friends…my life was…” she struggled for the words. “Loveless…boring, and I had no means to change it. Would you want to go home to that?”
“I guess not.”
“I could just run away,” she reasoned.
“Why don’t you come back to Lanard with me,” Tyril suggested. “At least there we can help you. If you still want to run away, then you can. But you are not prepared for such a task now.”
“Perhaps,” she whispered, looking into the flickering flames. “Tell me about Peron Rothar?” she asked, changing the subject.
Tyril smiled. “You would like him. He is the smartest person I know, witty, and can make anything he wants. He thinks of himself as an inventor…a tinkerer.”
“Is he a warrior like you as well?”
Tyril’s smile disappeared. “No, he is not.”
“And why does that sadden you?”
“It saddens him,” he said, “not me. I feel for him as his father is a battle king like his father before him. But Peron is not, and his father never misses an opportunity to show him his displeasure. I think Peron feels he is not fit to be king.”
Kylin threw a twig into the fire. “I think we need more kings who can use their heads, not their steel. Perhaps we would not be killing each other over dirt, water, and trees. Peron might be the very king this land needs.” Tyril frowned, saying nothing. She looked at him. “You don’t agree?”
“It’s not that. Perhaps you are right. But I am a soldier, it is all I know. It’s hard for me to imagine living in a world where my sword is no longer needed.”
“Would you feel…unnecessary?”
“What would I do?” he countered.
“Farm, raise a family, anything would be better than shedding blood.”
“Perhaps,” he whispered.
She smiled and nudged him with her foot. “Fear not, my warrior. I do not think your sword will ever become…unnecessary. But dreaming of a world with that possibility is not a bad thing, don’t you think?”
This time he smiled as well. “It is a nice dream.”
They talked longer into the evening and just before they were going to build up the fire and sleep for the night, Atticus stepped from the darkness into the firelight. He startled them and Tyril nearly drew his sword.
“It’s just me, my friend,” the druid said as he sat next to the fire. His expression looked grim.
“What did you find?” Tyril asked.
“The camp outside of Angar was destroyed and the city has been taken.” He looked up from the fire. “Maltheil was there with thousands of servants, and the beast, once it had destroyed the city gates, was turning more into his demon-spawn.” His expression grew even more serious, the orange firelight reflecting of his face adding to the graveness. “I saw the head of King Rothar, as well as Prince Dalland. They are both dead.”
Kylin looked at Tyril, who said nothing, staring into the fire. She looked back at the druid. “And my father’s army was there?”
Atticus nodded. “It was, and working side by side with the demon.”
Finally Tyril looked up from the fire. “Did you see if my father was alive?”
“I’m sorry, I did not. The scene was chaotic and it was dark.”
Tyril sighed heavily. “What are we going to do?”
“If the demon is working with them, then that means that someone, likely your father’s,” he said, looking at Kylin, “wizard worked out a way to free the beast. But it’s only a matter of time before the demon will break the magical bond that holds it to the wizard.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the same thing that happened thousands of years ago. It was the Rotharian king’s wizard who summoned the demon originally, and used Maltheil’s power to defeat the Ronith tribes raiding from the south. After that, they used the demon’s power to march on Tur’el. But over time the link between the wizard and the demon weakened, and before they could defeat Tur’el, Maltheil broke free from the spell, and destroyed everyone and anyone in its way. The same thing will happen again.”
“But you defeated the beast, surely you can do it again,” Kylin said.
“I did not defeat the beast on my own. I had help from my grove, and the king of Oneck was a great battle king, and together we defeated it. But I have no grove, nor do I have a powerful battle king.”
“There must be a way,” Tyril said.
“All I know is that once Angar is secure, the Tur’el army, led by Maltheil and his minions, will march on Lanard.” Atticus put another stick on the fire. “The one thing that bothers me was how the demon was freed. The only way to use the book was to have the blood of the Rothar royal bloodline. And I know the book was kept in a chest, sealed by lock and spell, and if anyone without Rotharian royal blood attempted to retrieve it they would be fried on the spot. How did a wizard from Tur’el manage to do all that?”
Tyril was worried. Should he tell him what they did three years ago? Maybe he would have some insight. But he was worried that by voicing their deed that it would incriminate them. Being responsible for freeing the demon was something he wasn’t sure he could handle. But they didn’t do much besides open the book and spill some of Peron’s blood. Could that have been enough? If anyone knew the answer to that question it would be the man who wrote the book. Tyril decided he had to say something.
“I need to tell you something,” he began. Atticus looked at him and saw that he was mulling over something quite serious. He didn’t say anything, but nodded for him to continue. Clearing his voice, he did. “Three years ago I entered the vault that held the demon with Prince Peron and our friend Kyron.” Atticus sat back from the fire and Kylin put her hand to her mouth. “Peron had taken the book from its location in Master Moran’s room.” Once he started, he wanted to end it quickly, so it poured out of him as fast as he could get it out. “We just wanted to see the demon’s prison. We were just kids. We didn’t even know that Maltheil was real.” Tyril stopped and looked at Atticus. “The demon broke from its prison over a week ago. It couldn’t have been us, right?”
“Tell me exactly what you did,” Atticus said, his voice low, a hint of rising anger beneath the whisper.
“Peron used the sigil on the front of the book to open the steel door to Maltheil’s prison. Once inside, he opened the book and it fell. When he tried to catch it he cut himself on one of the blades jutting from the sarcophagus. He only read the words on the first page. But when he dripped blood on the page, it disappeared, like it was sucked in, and smoke rose from the spot. There was something like a flash, or ripple, that moved over the sarcophagus. That was it. We were so scared we ran from the tomb. And now, three years later, the demon breaks free. It makes no sense.”
“Are you sure you didn’t read any further in the book?”
“I’m sure. Peron returned the key and the book to their hiding spots and we have never told anyone, until now that is.”
Atticus took a deep breath. “The spell that was used to seal the demon away was a banishing spell. For the spell to work, to have the power to dispel the demon to the nethers, we needed powerful blood to bind it. Royal blood of the Rothar line was used. Unfortunately it is the same blood necessary to unlock the demon’s prison, which is what I wrote on the first page of the book. But if you didn’t read any further, then there was no way the spell was unwound. Peron’s blood was probably like a knock on the demon’s door, but nothing more.”
“So, someone with royal blood, if they read the entire book, could free the creature?” Kylin asked.
“Technically, the blood is just the key. Blood needs to be spilt on the book before it will reveal the words. If someone had royal blood, and they were powerful enough to read the
spell and control the demon, then yes, they could’ve unlocked Maltheil’s prison.”
“What do you mean, powerful enough?”
“Freeing the demon, and controlling the demon, are not the same thing. For instance, if Peron would have used his blood on each page, and continued reading the book, the spell would’ve got harder and harder to read the further he went. The magic in a binding spell such as was used requires great concentration and mental willpower. He would never have been able to complete it. The words would have blurred and he would have got dizzy or fainted. And even if he could have finished the spell, once the demon was free, he would not have been able to control it. Maltheil would’ve killed you all, or worse, turned you.”
“But a powerful wizard, if they had access to the book and royal blood, could’ve completed the spell and controlled the demon?” Kylin asked.
“Yes, it is possible. My guess is that Carvathian was able to accomplish such a task. He is quite powerful.”
“You know of him?” Kylin asked.
“Of course,” Atticus responded. “I know many things. I make it my business to know the powerful players in the lands that surround my forest.”
“So we didn’t free the demon?”
“No, what you did was incredibly stupid. But you did not free the beast. But if it was Carvathian, he needed help to get the book and the blood. I’m afraid you have a traitor at court.”
“They will face judgment for their deeds, rest assured,” Tyril replied, his voice hard like iron.
“We must stop them,” Kylin said adamantly.
“Yes,” Atticus said, “we must. If Lanard is destroyed, then once Maltheil breaks from his magical bond, he will unleash his army throughout the neighboring lands. He will destroy and plunder everything around us. We…I, cannot let that happen.”
“What happens when Maltheil turns a soldier?” Tyril asked, thinking about the implications of turning all the soldiers at Angar to his will.
“They are his servants, mind and body. They tend to have similar abilities as they had in life, although slightly less so as they have lost their ability to think as they once did. But a talented swordsman will still be formidable once turned.”
The Shadow Knight (A Shadow Knight Novel Book 1) Page 17
