Days had lapsed since they left the forest as Santorray led them just south of the mountain-sized humps of the Solann Ridges. Rounding Faralope Peak, the group descended toward the city of Swardfar. Greensbrook’s easternmost city side-saddled the Lax River, which slowly weaved through the endless crops and pastures.
Freshly turned soil filled the air with sweet fragrances of the rich dark red earth. Surrounded by tall wildflowers, fertile fields were plowed in unnatural patterns across the valley. Warm temperatures and afternoon showers kept the southern side of the Solann Mountains in a state of accelerated growth, perfect for the farmer’s crops.
It had been an uneventful week of hiking over soft hills and around the Solann Mounds, which stood like gigantic toes out of the earth. Fruit bearing trees littered the way, providing plenty to eat, even for Grewen.
Approaching the city from the north side of the river, they crossed a wide sturdy bridge. A large open area presented itself on the south side of the river as the tall Dovenar Wall curved inward toward the city. The wall bordered all of the provinces to keep out the Altered Creatures and had a similar design throughout, but used different materials in its construction based on materials available.
Guards watched from above as two Faralope-driven wagons headed out from the large gates. Supplies filled one of the wagons while the second carried several noisy children. Their parents held the reins on each.
Gold nuggets and a single pine cone were dropped into the toll man’s bucket by Gluic, as the group reached the city. After pulling one nugget out to verify its authenticity, the toll man nodded to the guards above. They were approved to enter, uneasy about having a Blothrud stride into their town, but approved nonetheless.
It was not illegal for Altereds to enter Greensbrook. The wall was there to prevent an invasion by an army of them.
Santorray ignored the looks and stares. Shoulders back and firm steps forward made it clear he was not to be disturbed by the locals, including any city law officials.
In spite of that, onlookers came from every door and window to behold the massive size of the Mognin and the evil looking Blothrud. A young boy poked his head out from under his mother’s arm and waved at the Unday from his second floor window.
Grewen waved back and smiled, scaring the mother who quickly shut the window shutters.
Approaching a watering hole, a young girl carrying a large basket of flowers was startled by the odd group. The outsiders quickly surrounded her.
Santorray tossed a water bucket down the well. He quickly hauled it back up with fresh water, which he drank. Lowering it from his mouth, he noticed the entire community had come out to the large courtyard to watch them.
Santorray tossed the bucket back down the well. It seemed louder this time as it splashed into the water below. The inhabitants of Swardfar were ghostly quiet, making his actions very noticeable.
Pressing the back of her legs against the well wall, the flower girl tried to break the tension by holding up her basket of goods as a gift of peace.
“I don’t mind if I do.” Grewen reached down with his oversized two-thumbed hand, he plucked the basket from her and pitched it into his mouth. “Thank you, I’m famished. Salt-lilacs are one of my favorite flowers.”
Screaming from the sight of giant’s enormous mouth crunching down on her basket, she ran from the group and raced down the street and around the corner, out of sight.
Santorray pulled the second bucket up but felt resistance when he lifted it to drink. Thorik was holding on to it.
“You’ve had some, let Gluic and Avanda drink,” Thorik said.
The thought had not occurred to him. It had been so many years since he had to work within a group that his natural response was to only look out for himself. Fighting his instincts to rip the bucket from the Num’s hands, he shoved it slightly toward Thorik. “Go ahead; I’ve had my fill for now.”
One by one, they took their fill of water before passing it on. Grewen added a few handfuls of wheat from a nearby wagon load to satisfy his stomach’s needs.
Locals hadn’t spoken a word. Not a sound, aside from the shuffling of feet. The silence became eerie as they stood staring with their blank faces.
Eventually a middle-aged woman approached from the main street, led by the young girl whose flowers were eaten by Grewen. The woman had a natural attractiveness about her without any frills or glamorous accessories. Her clothes were of earth tones and mud from the fields had stained the ends of her dress.
“Welcome Travelers, I am Pawnel Fenwood. What is your business here?” she asked.
Thorik stepped forward. “I am Sec Thorik Dain of Farbank. We are just passing through. We wish to purchase provisions.”
“We have none to sell you. Please be on your way.”
“We don’t require much. Surely you have some bread, blankets and ropes.”
“We have them, but have none for you.”
Santorray growled at her, showing his distaste for her lack of hospitality.
Thorik showed no signs of anger. Instead, he was curious as to the reason. “Why? Have we done something to offend you?”
“War is approaching between Darkmere and the provinces remaining loyal to the kingdom. We wish to be left out of it and will not select a side, nor support those on either side, until the victor is known. We have seen many outsiders, such as yourselves, pass through here as of late and we wish to avoid any relationships or transactions with any of you.”
“You approve of whoever wins?”
“We are isolated from all others in our province and will see no support if we join their cause. It is better for us to stay distant and tend to our fields. Once it is all over, the conquering army will purchase our crops for their men. If we take sides and favor the losers, we could be destroyed.”
“If Darkmere’s army wins they will take more than your crops. You’ll become his slaves.”
“Perhaps, but he will still need us to tend the fields. Little will change for us.”
A loud distant drumbeat hit hard twice before pausing, followed by a series of three beats.
The crowd screamed and ran in every direction. Total chaos had erupted from the deafening quiet, as they ran for their houses, locking the doors behind them.
Pawnel sent the young girl home before turning back to Thorik. “What have you done? Who has tracked you down to our city?”
The distant silence was broken with a crashing of wood at the far entrance. Something was destroying the southern gate.
Pawnel turned and ran toward the sound before Thorik could answer.
Santorray stretched his chest and unsheathed his sabers. Spinning them a few times in his hands, he prepared for battle. A quick cut to his leg drew blood on purpose.
“What are you doing?” Thorik asked about the wound.
“I draw my own blood to show my enemy that I do not fear his attempt to injure me.”
“No,” Thorik said. “You’re not here to fight anyone. This is exactly what Pawnel doesn’t want to happen.”
“I’ve evaded enough conflicts for you and your plans. I’m not going to run any longer.”
“Santorray, you’re neither a coward nor a fool. But let’s at least find out what this threat is before we take aggressive measures against it.”
“Agreed,” Santorray said hesitantly.
“Grewen, find some place to hide for everyone until we get back,” Thorik ordered.
Grewen smiled as he looked around the open courtyard. “I’m a little big to play this game.”
Thorik began running with Santorray toward the sound of destruction. “Be creative, Grewen. Come up with something.”
Grewen looked at Avanda as he placed a large basket upside down on his head. “Can you still see me?” His shoulders shook as he laughed from his own joke along with Avanda.
Santorray and Thorik raced across the town, catching up to Pawnel as she entered the large southern marketplace. Viewing the south wall entrance, it exploded, ripping the
mighty doors apart.
Entering the destroyed doorway, Lord Bredgin rode in on a large black panther. An intense burst of light shot out from the man’s staff, as though he was looking through the walls of homes and businesses. Colors faded to a dull gray from his presence in all directions and screams could be heard from the direction of his staff’s light.
Thorik, Santorray and Pawnel stood out of Bredgin’s view, on the backside of the market.
Santorray growled. “Why is he here looking for us?”
Pawnel glared at Thorik. “I knew you brought us trouble.”
Thorik pushed off her comment. “Or has he followed Ericc here? He may not know we’re even here.”
“True, but if Bredgin is looking for Ericc, he’s going to rip this town apart to find the boy, whether he is here or not. So we’re going to have to fight him sooner or later, and I refuse to run this time.”
“There are no strangers in Swardfar aside from you,” Pawnel said.
Bredgin’s power over darkness and light became very clear as he entered the main street. He and everything around him was a shade of gray, no colors could be seen within twenty feet, including his own clothes or skin, as he temporarily stored his staff.
Reaching out with his left hand, he created darkness to encapsulate a surge of local guards running toward him. Absolute emptiness of light sucked the warmth out of the men as they stumbled over themselves to find their way. Cold, fear and depression rapidly set in to all in the dismal dark.
Bright light sprang from his right palm, blinding all those who would look at it. Heat from the light could be felt from a block away, except in the dead zones of darkness.
Releasing one guard from the veil of darkness, Bredgin advanced. “Where is the son of Ambrosius? Where is Ericc Dovenar?”
The man shivered from his short time in the dark, as the light from the sun now made him squint. “I don’t know of such a boy.”
An intense light shot forth from Bredgin’s hand, hitting the guard with such force that it knocked him backward as it burned his face.
Heat blisters covered his face and neck, oozing out puss and cracking as the man reached for them. He screamed in pain as his eyeballs exploded from the heat, before he collapsed onto the dirt road.
Lord Bredgin pointed his palm at one of the taller buildings, releasing a focused light, which ripped through its wall and started the structure on fire.
“Your attempt to hide the boy will only get you all killed,” Lord Bredgin yelled to the people of Swardfar. “Hand him over, now!”
Thorik thought about the challenge as he watched the destructive power of Darkmere’s son. “I think I know how we can save your city.”
“We refuse to get involved,” Pawnel said.
“You’re already involved,” Thorik corrected before turning to address Santorray. “Go back to the northern courtyard entrance and make sure everyone is still in hiding until we need them.”
“You expect me to hide?”
“No, I expect you to fight Lord Bredgin and prevent him from capturing Ericc, should my plans fail. Trust me on this.”
With some hesitation, Santorray returned from where they came.
“Follow me,” Thorik said to Pawnel as he ran into one of the local shops.
As Thorik and Pawnel burst in to the closest shop, they found two families huddled together. Terror covered their faces as they expected Thorik to be the attacking enemy.
Pawnel kept away from the window and approached them. “It will be all right. Just stay down until it’s over.”
“He’s not after us,” Thorik explained to the locals, looking panicked. “He’s after Ambrosius’ son, Ericc. Do you know where he is? Have you seen him?”
Frightened, the locals shook their heads no.
Meanwhile, Santorray returned to the north entrance to find the Nums vanished and Grewen stacking crates, wagons, and baskets around him to hide behind.
Grewen waved to the Blothrud. “Will this do?”
“Pathetic,” Santorray announced.
“Yeah, I’m not good at this game.” Grewen looked at his temporary wall. “Where’s Thorik?”
“The fool is trying to get rid of Lord Bredgin on his own. We need to prepare to attack Darkmere’s successor when he enters the area.”
“Attack? I’ll help you restrain him, but I will not take part in a murder. Especially when we can walk out those gates and avoid the conflict in the first place.”
“Listen, your friend Thorik has just put his life on the line to stop this man. Odds are he’s already dead. Do we not at least owe it to him to slay his killer?”
“Revenge killing? Never.” Grewen said. “I don’t believe Thorik would put himself in such harm on purpose. But even if he did, he knows the risks. Plotting to murder his killer will not bring him back. It only makes us killers.”
“This is what’s wrong with you Ovs. You want justice but you’re never willing to fight for it.”
“An eye for an eye?”
“Yes!”
“No!” Grewen replied. “It perpetuates the issue and gives each side more reasons to continue to advance the conflicts.”
“Instead you would cower down and be subservient to every threat that rises?”
“No, but defending oneself is a far stretch from plotting murder. Have you ever tried to use your mouth to solve an issue instead of your fists?”
“I find my fists have been very effective in resolving problems,” Santorray said proudly. “Talking is fine if your enemy can be trusted. But in my travels I have found many speak only to deceive you. Lord Bredgin is one of them. To bargain with him would be to reach inside a dragon’s mouth on his promise not to bite down. His instinct forces him to chomp down on your arm.”
“Quiet, you two.” Thorik ran into the open area. “He’ll be here any moment.”
Grewen and Santorray looked over at the Num with surprise.
Thorik’s hasty arm movements showed his concern of their hiding spaces. “Santorray, hide behind Grewen.”
“Hide?”
“Yes! Or you’ll ruin everything.” Thorik pushed the massive Blothrud behind Grewen’s wall and then behind the Mognin. “Be still, here he comes.”
A deep cat growl predicated the sighting of the black panther in the courtyard. Longer than Grewen was tall, the cat ran smoothly into the area while being ridden by his master.
The pace was fast. There was passion in Lord Bredgin’s face as they bolted through the area, leaving a trail of death in his gray wake. Bricks crumbled, wood aged and cracked, and plants withered and died from the immediate exposure to his presence.
The wagons and baskets that made up Grewen’s wall lost their strength and tumbled down as the panther raced by, exposing the giant. Nevertheless, the rider was too focused to even notice those that he killed, let alone those he passed by.
Out through the gates, over the bridge, and down the road sped the panther and Lord Bredgin.
Santorray exited the makeshift wall. “Why did he leave? Did he find Ericc and kill him?”
“Yes and no,” Thorik answered.
“No games, Sec. Out with it.”
“I ran from shop to shop telling everyone that Lord Bredgin was after Ericc, and that Ericc had recently been captured in Rumaldo by Lucian,” Thorik explained. “After Bredgin started gathering this story from multiple people he finally believed it and headed out to Rumaldo.”
“Clever,” Grewen said.
“Lucky,” Santorray added.
Thorik adjusted his backpack. “We’re lucky he didn’t destroy more that he did. What matters is that he’s gone, which is what we need to be, so let’s head out toward Carrion Mire before we lose anymore daylight.”
“I believe you will need some provisions.” Pawnel walked up behind him.
“Yes, but I do not wish to make you my enemy by forcing you to do business.”
“You could have escaped out the north gates. This was not your problem. Instea
d you stayed to help without causing a fight, while saving many lives. It is the least we can do for you. What do you require?”
Chapter 21
Dor’Avell Range
Sacrifice of Ericc Page 23