by Edward Cox
Eighteen
Dark Magic
Morning came with an overcast sky that reduced the sun to a smudge of weak light behind heavy clouds, grey and miserable. Drizzle misted the air and clung to the chill of night. It beaded upon Vladisal’s tarnished armour.
She and her remaining thirteen knights and five archers hid just inside the tree line where the forest broke to reveal a large glade of wild grass. The glade appeared lush, and should have smelled sweet in the spring rain; but the sickly scent of decay was rife, and an unseen menace hung as heavy as the grey clouds above.
Vladisal narrowed her eyes.
Ahead of the company, out in the open, Abildan sat cross-legged upon the wet grass. She had that sack which Vladisal had seen her with the previous day. What contents it might hold, the feliwyrd was in no hurry to reveal, and she sat in a meditative state – praying, perhaps, to whichever dark gods she worshipped.
To Vladisal’s left, old Üban stamped her feet against the cold. “A miserable day to end a miserable quest,” she muttered.
Not one woman among them had slept during the night – no one dared to, not in the aftermath of Dun-Wyrd’s sinister visit. Poor Sir Mervya; she had succumbed to the damnation of the Bone Shaker’s foul magic, and Vladisal had given her spirit peace. Her dead body had been laid to rest upon a pyre, along with the bodies of Sir Finn, Sir Theodora and Sir Brennik. In a hollow voice, Vladisal had recited prayers to the Mother God while the dead burned and the living mourned.
After that, the night had been long and tense, but there had been nothing to do except wait for dawn when Abildan had led the company to the glade. At least no other knight had been stung by a tree-demon.
What paths have I led you down, my friends? Vladisal wondered, and she could not find the courage to turn and face the brave women congregated behind her.
With a heavy spirit, Vladisal risked a glance at the grey and expressionless face of Luca standing on her right. Luca kept her eyes fixed on Abildan, as if reluctant to look at her friend. Vladisal wished she could find words of strength to comfort Luca’s heartbreak – and Üban’s and her own - but there was nothing she could say that could undo what was done.
An attempt had been made to find Dief, but the night’s mist had grown too thick in the forest, and it was unwise to stray far from camp. Vladisal had eventually ordered the women to abandon their search. A hard decision that had to be made. They all understood that finding Dief would have made little difference to the outcome. She had been infected by tree-demons, cursed by the damned. Vladisal knew Dief too well, as did Üban and especially Luca. She had wished to end her life in solitude, with dignity, while she was still able to recognise friend from foe.
From the ache in her heart and the expressions on the faces of her knights, Vladisal respected that the manner in which they had lost their sisters would haunt all their dreams for years to come.
“By the Mother,” Üban whispered. “Is… Is that a spider?”
She was watching Abildan. The feliwyrd had taken from the sack an enormous spider, easily the size of a dog. It lay dead on its back, legs curled against its body almost defensively.
“What’s she doing with it?” Luca said.
It was difficult to tell at first, for Abildan had positioned herself between the spider and the knights. By the look of things, she was breaking off the spider’s legs, one by one. When all eight were removed and thrown aside, Abildan drew her sabre and sliced into the bloated, black body. She twisted her position to give a better view of what she was doing.
Luca made a noise of disgust. Abildan had pushed a hand inside the spider. She searched around for a moment before cutting out a dark, dripping mass, which she proceeded to eat.
More sounds of loathing and disgust came from the women behind Vladisal.
Üban hawked and spat on the ground. “Blood magic,” she growled. “Is this really what we’ve come to?”
“The hours is late, and Redheart has not returned with the Ulyyn,” Vladisal said in a resigned but strong voice. “We few are all that stand in Dun-Wyrd’s way, and we must hope that it is enough.”
“We stand with you, Vlad,” Luca said. “For Elander, for Duchess Mayland, for… absent friends.”
“Aye, lass,” Üban agreed, and a seed of dark mirth crept into her tone. “But if it’s all the same to you two, I’ll be praying the Bone Shaker is not as hard a foe as the feliwyrd would have us believe. There’s a keg of ale and one or two bachelors waiting for me at Mayland Castle.”
A sad smile came to Luca’s face. Vladisal could not prevent a sombre chuckle escaping her lips. These were fine women she stood beside, the best.
Abildan had finished her grisly meal. She sprang to her feet, as if energised. With her back to the company, she stretched her arms out wide to encompass the glade. She spoke unintelligible words that came from all places, borne on the rain.
“Here we go,” Vladisal said, and she turned to her knights, issuing the order to bear arms.
When Abildan finished speaking in a sorcerous tongue, the air shifted and a low hum passed through the company like a charged breeze before a storm. The light dimmed over the glade. The clouds grew fatter and darker. And where nothing but wild grassland had stretched before the knights, a structure began to materialise in the glade.
Murmurs of consternation rose, voices on the verge of panic.
Vladisal wheeled around, slicing a hand through the air for order. “Prepare yourselves!” she said, and the knights fell back into an edgy silence, gripping their weapons tightly.
The structure continued to gain substance before Abildan’s outstretched arms, and soon became as real and solid as the trees surrounding the glade. It was a simply designed fort, comprising four broad walls made from dark, hard-packed earth, veined with thick roots, easily four times the height any women. It looked as though it has risen from the ground itself.
The lair of Dun-Wyrd.
The entrance was a wide arch cut into the front facing wall. A courtyard could be seen through it. However, there was no ungodly horde of tree-demons waiting to attack the Boskan knights. No Bone Shaker to receive them.
“Where’s our reception party?” Üban said, with no small measure of surprise in her voice.
“This place looks deserted,” Luca said.
Vladisal frowned. “Walk with me, my friends.”
The three of them approached Abildan, leaving the rest of the women in the trees.
With the ruins of the dead spider at her feet, the feliwyrd stared at the lair. Her eyes were no longer yellow, but black and shiny like the shell of a beetle. Blood matted the fur on her face and she radiated an unnatural energy. She didn’t acknowledge the knights standing between her and the lair.
“Well, feliwyrd?” Üban said, “Have we caught your countrywoman unawares?”
“Unlikely,” Abildan replied.
“Why does this place feel so deserted?” Vladisal asked. “Has Dun-Wyrd moved location?”
“Quite possibly.”
Üban growled. “Perhaps she fled in fear of us.”
Abildan’s yellow eyes fixed on her. “Again, unlikely.” She looked at her hands, as if contemplating the power of blood magic. Claws slid from her fingertips, and then retracted. “I cannot feel Dun-Wyrd’s magic. But that does not mean she has fled. It does not mean she is here, either. A Wyrd could easily hide her presence from us.”
“A trap?” Vladisal said.
“Quite possibly.” Abildan motioned to the lair’s arched entranceway. “Shall we go and find out?”
With a nod from Vladisal, Luca signalled to the waiting knights to follow. They emerged from the trees, and Abildan led the company into the Bone Shaker’s lair.
The courtyard was square, roughly fifty paces wide and long, only marginally less bland than the exterior. Crudely carved stairs led up to ramparts on the left and right walls. Sitting at the centre was a smaller structure with a flat roof, resembling a simple mausoleum. The entire lair was fashioned
from hard, root-veined earth. It looked like a child had built a clumsy, oversized dirt model of a fortress.
“Archers,” Vladisal ordered, motioning to the ramparts. “Cover the courtyard.”
Without hesitation, the archers did as their captain ordered. Two took the steps to the left wall, three ascended to the right. The remaining knights spread out in the courtyard. Vladisal, Üban and Luca stayed close to the feliwyrd.
Abildan approached the crude mausoleum and tilted her head as she stared into its small and darkened doorway. Vladisal strained to see for herself through the doorway, but her eyes could not penetrate the gloom.
“What do you see, Abildan?”
“Stairs leading down.”
“Too where?”
“A dark place.” Abildan’s eyes glinting blackly. “We each of us have our duty to perform, yes?”
“Aye, that we do,” Üban said wryly.
Abildan gave the old knight a crooked smile. “Perceptions of duty tend to alter when you do not expect to survive, do they not?”
Üban smirked. “It does add an interesting flavour, I’ll admit.”
“Welcome to my world, Sir Knight.” Abildan considered the doorway again. “If Dun-Wyrd is still here, then she is hiding deep down beneath us, and that is where she will also be keeping Elander.”
Upon hearing this, Luca turned the Vladisal, “Shall I gather the women? Half of us to search - the rest to guard the courtyard.”
“No,” Abildan said. “This is a Wyrd’s lair. A labyrinth of narrow burrows and corridors awaits at the bottom of those stairs, with little room for a company of knights to manoeuvre. Sir Vladisal and I will go alone.”
“Not bloody likely,” Üban snapped.
“Wait,” Vladisal said. “Explain yourself, Abildan.”
“I know the mind of the Wyrd, ladies.” The feliwyrd wiped spider blood from her chin. “Who among us stands a chance against magic better than I? Leading your woman down into the bowels of the lair might just lead them to slaughter.”
Blood magic had given Abildan a strange and menacing calm. If there was any deceit left in the feliwyrd, any treachery at all, she had not reserved it for this moment.
“We have trusted you this far, Abildan,” Vladisal said. “Let us do this your way.”
“You cannot be serious!” Üban said. “What if you find the Bone Shaker and a legion of tree-demons?”
“She’s right, Vlad,” Luca added. “At least let Üban and I go with you.”
Vladisal and Abildan stared at each other for a moment.
“No,” Vladisal said resolutely. “You two command the women in my absence.” She stopped Üban arguing further by gripping the old knight’s shoulder. “Hear your captain, my friend, and trust her. If ill befalls me, then Elander is relying on you.”
Both of them were reluctant to move. Abildan walked into the mausoleum’s entrance and waited in the shadows.
“Go to the women,” Vladisal ordered her knights. “Keep them alert,” and she followed Abildan into depths of darkness.
Nineteen
The Lair of the Boneshaker
The stairs were steep, descending sharply into the ground, into a lightless void. Soon, Vladisal was swamped by utter darkness and couldn’t see her hand before her face.
“Hold still,” Abildan said.
The Boskan Captain flinched as the rough pad of assassin’s hand covered her eyes.
An alien word was whispered. Vladisal felt its unnatural energy scraping the inside of her skull, prickling at her mind. She gasped and staggered on the stairs. Abildan held her steady, and when the she removed her hand, Vladisal could see in the dark. The feliwyrd and the stairs were revealed, tinged with ghostly green.
“Come,” Abildan said.
Vladisal followed her down the stairs, desperately trying to ignore the incongruous feel of blood magic.
It took a surprisingly long time to reach the bottom of the lair. They followed a long corridor, neatly carved into the earth. It was narrow, and they walked single file, passing many other corridors that split off to the left and right. Vladisal realised that Abildan had spoken the truth. There wasn’t room enough to swing a sword. The Bone Shaker’s lair was a labyrinth of pitch dark tunnels which formed no kind of ground on which a company of knights could stand and fight.
“How long has Dun-Wyrd been in the Great Forest?” Vladisal whispered to her guide. “It must have taken her an age to create this place.”
“Magic has many uses,” Abildan said without looking back. “A lair such as this would be a simple work for a Wyrd. But it’s a temporary structure. Its purpose served.”
Now the feliwyrd mentioned it, the walls and low ceiling did look dry and cracked, the floor crumbling underfoot. Dust laced the air and scratched the back of Vladisal’s throat. A vague stench of rotting foliage came to her nose. It was as though the lair was dying.
They approached the corridor’s end where two paths split left and right. Abildan brought them to a halt before they reached the junction. She cocked her ear, listening. Vladisal heard it too: soft whining – a dog, perhaps - but she couldn’t tell from which direction it came.
Abildan crept forward, claws sliding from fingertips as she turned left, leading Vladisal to the doorway of a chamber, where a pack of wolves were held captive.
There were ten of them at least. Most cowered against the back wall. Two paced and whined. But one, braver than the others, stood close to the doorway, teeth bared and hackles raised, growling at the intruders. To Vladisal’s altered vision, its eyes shone green in the dark.
The wolf barked and leapt to attack. Vladisal jumped aside. Abildan stood her ground, merely observing as the wolf hit some invisible barrier covering the doorway. With a snapping sound and a spark like a knife had struck flint, the wolf yelped and recoiled, scurried off to cower with the pack, pawing at its snout.
Abildan reach out and tapped a claw againsy the magical barrier. A ripple like water spread over the doorway. “I told you that Dun-Wyrd was happy for you to come to her.” She turned black eyes to her companion. “You have heard tales of the caniwyrd?”
Vladisal nodded. “The dog-soldiers of Mya-Siad. Yes, Üban has fought them.”
“How ironic.” Abildan snorted. “Hyena make the best specimen of caniwyrd, for their survival mechanisms are second to none. However, a wolf will create just as fierce a warrior, especially if its spirit has been merged with a trained knight.”
Vladisal stared into the chamber, at the pack of frightened wolves, and she felt cold.
“Take a good look, Sir Vladisal. Should Dun-Wyrd prevail, these wolves are your future.” Abildan’s lip curled into a snarl or smile, Vladisal couldn’t tell which. “And their presence is a sure sign that Dun-Wyrd is still here.”
Before Vladisal had time to think or speak, a moan drifted down the dark tunnel.
It had been a human voice - emotional, not the empty, tormented tone of a tree-demon. It sounded again, from somewhere in the lair, and this time Vladisal was positive that it belonged to a youngster. A boy.
“Elander.”
Abildan was facing in the opposite direction to the voice, stock still and tense.
“Magic…” Her claws slid back into her fingers. “My duty is to kill Dun-Wyrd. Elander is your responsibility.” She unhooked the single-handed crossbow from her belt. “Good luck, Sir Vladisal.”
Abildan’s image blurred and sped off at preternatural speed.
“Wait!” Vladisal shouted.
But the feliwyrd had already disappeared into the far gloom which even heightened sight could not penetrate. Blood magic crackled in the air. The wolves stirred in their pen.
The voice drifted down the corridor again. This time, Vladisal fancied that she heard Elander call her name. Alone and desperate, she ran towards it. The wolves howled behind her.
Twenty
Sunshine
Drizzle had turned to hard rain.
The courtyard offered no
cover, and the knights braved the weather. Üban tried to ignore the cold droplets that drummed upon her armour and trickled down her neck. She and Luca walked the perimeter of the courtyard, their metal boots squelching in the shallow layer of mud on the ground. The rest of the women were spread out, swords in hands, while archers guarded from the ramparts, watching for whatever surprises might disturb this strange stillness.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
“We should have gone with her,” Luca grumbled as she and Üban came in line with the doorway to the mausoleum. “How long do you think we should give them?”
Üban rolled her eyes. This was not the first time that Luca had voiced her concerns since Vladisal had gone off with Abildan.
“You know, I once met Vlad’s father,” Üban said. “He was a good man, a strong man, but he never stopped worrying about his daughter. You and he do not sound dissimilar.”
But Luca was in no mind to entertain the old knight’s attempt to lighten the mood. “We’ve lost enough friends on this quest.” Her voice was bitter, her expression dark. “I don’t like all this waiting around.”
Üban sighed. She didn’t much like the inaction, either, but what else could they do? If the Bone Shaker wasn’t here, which seemed likely, what did that mean? Could they trust Abildan to find Dun-Wyrd again? Could she do it in time to save Elander?
Shrugging off fatigue and a growing sense of misery, Üban slapped Luca on the arm. “Remember that barrel of ale I told you about? When we get home, I’ll share it with you. We’ll drink to Dief.”
Luca nodded. “Dief would like that.” She managed a smile. “But you know what, right now I’d pay real gold just for a good fire and the shelter of a sturdy oak.”
Üban grinned, but her chuckle died in her throat as the rain stopped so suddenly it was as though it had been stolen from the sky.
The heavy, grey clouds began clearing. One by one, they evaporated, allowing spears of brilliant sunshine to come piercing through. In but a moment, the sky above the courtyard was clear and dazzling blue. Worried murmurs rose from the knights as the sun bathed them in its warm, golden glow.
