Word came that Willem Jarin and his new bride were expecting a baby to be born within six months. The news opened healing wounds. It reminded Loriann and Kaegan of the child they had lost.
Grief strengthens both anger and the desire for revenge. This was the case with the newlywed couple. They did not wallow in their misery. Instead, they continued to strengthen their knowledge and skills for the impending battle that one day would be upon them.
Loriann gathered Ebin and Kaegan in their private chambers two months after arriving at Waelcombe Keep. Loriann posted a guard in the hall before closed and locked the chamber doors. “I understand this is unusual,” she explained. “I must repay a debt. Will you help me?”
Kaegan would follow Loriann anywhere, even to his death. Ebin agreed without a moment’s hesitation. “What would you have me do, Lady Loriann?”
“I need you both to watch over me. I intend on paying Willem Jarin and his wife a visit to collect the debt Jarin owes us. If anything disturbs my body here, there is a possibility I may not return from the glimmer,” she explained.
“Glimmer?” Kaegan and Ebin asked at precisely the same moment.
“The glimmer is another dimension within our realm. The required skill was lost until now. Few mages or psions venture there,” Loriann replied. “I would like to start now. Please stand guard and let no one enter here. It will look as if my body is dead, but it is not. My spirit will be in the glimmer.”
Both men stood at the ready as Loriann lay on the bed. She folded her hands across her chest, closed her eyes tightly, and meditated. She knew she needed to prepare for the journey into the glimmer. Kaegan and Ebin were blissfully unaware of the moment that the spirit emerged from Loriann’s physical body before entering the glimmer.
Within the astral realm, Loriann was unfettered by natural forces. Her spirit free-floated aimlessly until she realized she could move about with minimal effort. The glimmer duplicated the physical world in all aspects. Earthly elements did not impact it.
Travel from Waelcombe to Helmsfield Keep took only seconds. She found the chamber she sought after effortlessly navigating the halls of the king’s keep. Willem Jarin and his young wife lay sleeping in a massive canopied bed.
The familiar incalescence of rage built within Loriann. “Wake up,” she whispered softly in Emely’s ear. The young woman stirred, glancing about in alarm until her eyes fell on Loriann’s diaphanous form. A shriek born of fear burst from the princess’s lips.
Willem Jarin bolted upright at the sound. The blood drained from his face as he saw Loriann. He had received reports of the girl’s death yet here she stood in his bedchamber. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” Willem shouted as he scampered from the bed.
“Time to pay the piper, Willem Jarin.” Loriann coaxed the reluctant, frightened princess from the bed.
“Do not lay a hand on her!” Willem commanded as he stalked around the bed to confront Loriann.
“You have no control over me, Willem Jarin,” Loriann said with a laugh. “I almost feel sorry for Emely. She is only a pawn in this deadly game we play.”
There was no warning before a sharp pain speared into Emely’s womb. She cried out, pressing both hands to her belly as the agony spread through her lower body. Willem could only watch in horror as a pool of blood formed on the floor between Emely’s feet.
The front of the Emely’s white gown was stained red as rivulets of blood ran down both thighs. She sobbed in pain and horror. “My baby! My baby! No, please no!” the princess wailed.
Willem rushed to his wife’s side, helpless to do more than call out for servants to fetch the healer. Loriann whispered in his ear, “At least you won’t know what it is like to hold your baby in your arms only to see his life end. You have paid the debt for now, Willem Jarin, but mark my words, this war is not over.”
Loriann’s translucent form disappeared in an instant. At Waelcombe Keep her physical body jerked, gasped, then sat up as the reunion of spirit and flesh occurred. Ebin and Kaegan rushed to her side. “Willem Jarin will remember tonight for eternity,” she stated calmly. “Perhaps now he understands the extent of his error. I will not rest until he is dead.”
***
The Duke of Waelcombe’s most trusted advisors and members of the guard filled the great room. News of the princess’s miscarriage had spread like wildfire in the Old World. An ally’s carrier pigeon had arrived several days prior to the meeting with an accounting of the event.
Derek sat at the head of the table listening to the hubbub of many discussions. “Now if we can begin,” he pronounced. “As many of you may know, Princess Emely suffered a miscarriage. The threat of Willem Jarin acceding to the throne after King Cedric dies has passed.”
The hubbub of voices built in volume as those present discussed the event among themselves. Derek held his hand aloft for silence. “I have declared myself the king of the southern portion of the Olde World. It is my plan, and I hope yours, to challenge the rule of King Cedric.”
A roar of approval came from the assembled men, fists held aloft as a sign of solidarity. The throng fell silent yet again as their king spoke. “We have allies, but there is a need to bolster the ranks. Loriann has found a source of potential allies. She and her companions,” Derek’s arm moved outward in a sweeping semicircle to indicate Kaegan and Ebin, “will need volunteers to accompany them to Vadhen. Who will join our compatriots and strengthen their efforts?”
One young man immediately stood, bowing to Derek then Loriann, “Your grace, I will join Lady Loriann and her companions if it pleases them.”
A murmur of dissent moved through the crowd. A man at the end of the table yelled, “Beggin’ yer pardon, Lady Loriann, but why should we follow you? I know of Kaegan and no finer man ever held a sword. Young Ebin has sparred with me. He handles a blade with skill. But I do not know of you or if you can even wield a weapon.”
Loriann stepped forward, nodding slightly in the man’s direction. “Well met, my lord. It is a wise man who questions the skill of anyone who asks what I ask of you.” She paced back and forth across the dais.
Ebin and Kaegan exchanged looks of concern. They were all too familiar with the behavior.
“Perhaps, good sir, you would spar with me? There is no better way to test a man’s, or woman’s, skill,” Loriann called out.
A roar of approval came from the gathered men. “To the yard!” came their cheer.
Kaegan accompanied Loriann, taking the chance to test for signs of trouble, “You won’t let it get free, will you love? It wouldn’t do much in the way of encouraging the men to join us.”
She glanced at him, smiling, before saying, “I know exactly what I need to do.”
Derek, Ebin, and Kaegan mounted a raised platform in the yard. The duke whispered so only they could hear his words, “I hope there isn’t a bloodbath here today. Good men are scarce.”
Loriann removed her cloak, handing it to Ebin with a nod. She presented a striking figure clad in black leather breeches, a fine linen shirt, and a black leather vest with an etched flame design.
Her opponent drew a razor-sharp sword, bowed slightly and warned, “I’ll try not to hurt you, Lady Loriann.”
“Thank you.” She gave a small bow then waited for the first strike.
“Where’s yer blade?” The man called. “I won’t spar with an unarmed opponent.”
“Ice or fire?”
“What do you mean? Ice or fire?” The man looked at the gathered throng as he chortled with glee, “You can’t spar with those!”
The men laughed long and hard at the joke. “Are you sure you want me to choose?” Loriann announced, “Fire it is.” An audible gasp came from the men as emerald flames appeared in Loriann’s outstretched hands.
The man came at her then, swinging the heavy sword wildly. Loriann nimbly danced out of his way, bending low as the blade swung high. Tension built as the flames surged outward, taking the form of whips. The flames whipped at her
opponent, crackling and popping, until she forced him outside the area marked for sparring.
He returned immediately, feinting left then right, swinging the blade high then down toward Loriann’s neck. She dodged low, kneeling as she prepared to roll out of the sword’s path. The man kicked the dirt, a great gout flying in Loriann’s face. She rolled away, feet landing outside the mark.
“So, this is how we play?” Loriann rubbed the dirt from her eyes with the back of one hand.
Both of Loriann’s arms flung outward toward the man. The ground ripped apart as rows of jagged, icy spikes raced toward him. He jumped to one side barely avoiding the assault. Loriann countered again with a solid wall of emerald flame. This time she would not underestimate the opponent. The wall formed a circle, holding him hostage.
He bowed, placed the sword on the ground, and said with a smile, “I yield.”
The gathered men in the yard cheered, fists pumping overhead.
Kaegan said to no one in particular, “I thought he was a goner.” He embraced Loriann warmly as she joined him on the platform. Derek’s men fell quiet. “Every man here would follow you to the seven hells and back after that display, my lady.”
Loriann’s voice rang out in the quiet, cold air, “For a second time I call upon you. Who would join me as we travel to Vadhen, the forsaken lands?”
Over half the men stepped forward, knelt upon bent knee, and pledged their loyalty to Loriann’s quest. Loriann asked married men and fathers to step aside as she explained the potential danger.
Kaegan called out to the assembled volunteers. “We leave tomorrow, make yourselves ready.”
***
Chapter 10
Vadhen: The Forsaken Lands
Three days northeast of Waelcombe Keep, the first markings of the forsaken lands appeared. The lush grasses and sounds of life formerly surrounding them faded into brown wisps and deathly silence. Only the echo of the clopping hooves, jingling chain mail, or whispered voices echoed in the narrow, rocky gorge. It was the only point of entry. No living witness had returned from this place to tell of the mysteries within.
Halfway through the gorge Loriann’s hand clenched in a fist before being thrust into the air. The company halted as one.
Only Kaegan spoke, his voice softer than the breeze that caressed their skin. “What is it, my lady?”
“Something stalks us. Weapons at the ready.” Narrowed emerald eyes cast about the rocky gorge for signs of trouble. “Anansi, just ahead in the trees.”
People passed stories of the mythical anansi from generation to generation in the Olde World. The spiders were the size of a man’s hand. They had the ability to assume the shape or voice of any earthen creature of similar size for a brief time. Legends told of their lair deep within Walgue Grove. Failure to avoid the tricksters had led to many a warrior’s death in their silken traps.
“Slowly, follow Lady Loriann, weapons at the ready,” Kaegan warned.
The company moved forward at a snail’s pace, horses nickering nervously, every man with a weapon drawn. A finch’s trill came from the left as the gorge disappeared into a stand of massive pines. An answering trill came from somewhere within the grove.
A burst of emerald flames spewed from Loriann’s left hand as an anansi leapt from a pine bough toward Ebin’s head. The creature’s legs and body burst into flames, an agonized screech bursting from its maw. Ebin inclined his head in thanks.
“There will be more. They may attack directly as the first one did. Most will use guile to trap their prey. Believe nothing you see or hear. To do otherwise could be your end,” Kaegan called to the men behind him.
Deeper within the stand of pines light faded to almost twilight. A child’s giggle came from one side then the other of the path. A girl’s disembodied voice calling for help drew a man off the path.
“Help her! Help the child!” he yelled moments before his nervous horse reared, throwing its rider to the forest floor. Several anansi fell upon the man, fangs flashing, their potent poison pumping into flesh. A larger arachnid gracefully descended on a gossamer strand, then grasped the man’s motionless body before encasing it in a silken sarcophagus.
“Tend to the horse,” Loriann called. “We will have need of the horse before our journey ends.”
The flustered, fearful band of men journeyed through the pines without another loss. Loriann reminded them this was not the last of the anansi they would encounter. Most would come with no warning. Seeing the fearsome nature of the arachnid tricksters drilled common sense into any heads lacking the tenet.
The next leg of their journey continued without incident. The party made camp near a babbling brook. The men built small fires at Loriann’s request. Kaegan selected sentries to watch for trouble throughout the night. None knew what the next day would bring.
***
A booted toe prodded Kaegan roughly awake. His hand found the hilt of a razor-sharp dagger kept sheathed at his waist as he peered through bleary eyes to determine if friend or foe dared wake him. Ebin crouched over him, finger held against his lips. “Sentries spotted something circling the camp. You best come see this.”
“Loriann?” He rose, one fist knuckling the sleep from his eyes.
“Already out there. You should know she’s a step ahead of everyone.” Ebin gestured toward a rock outcropping just above the ground near the front of camp. Loriann crouched there like a panther stalking prey, eyes scanning the surroundings.
“Daerveth,” she called. “They’re less than stealthy. Don’t doubt their ability as warriors though.”
Most of the men shivered at her words. Those who did not react did not know of the gigantic barbarians Loriann spoke of. Few had lived to tell of the massive men rumored to stand a three to four rods in height.
The first daerveth to step from the tree line held a stone club aloft, knurled fist pounding on his chest as he roared at the predawn sky. A second then third giant joined him, standing still, eyes staring from beneath shaggy brows at the gathered company. They wore hide breechclouts about their waists. A bristling mat of reddish-brown hair covered their massive arms, chests, and thighs. Their bodies bore silvery-white scars that marked them as warriors of some experience.
A wall of emerald flame encircled the company. It formed a protective barrier to discourage the daerveth’s aggression.
None of the men saw Loriann move. She left the relative security of the rocky outcropping to stand between the men and daerveth. “We mean you no harm,” she called. “We come to speak to your leader. War is almost upon us. We have need of your help.”
A gigantic stone club whistled through the air, crashing into the earth with stunning force. Every man standing behind the wall of flame felt its power jarring in his bowels.
Loriann responded in kind, demonstrating a power none knew she possessed. She held her fist and arm outward in the daerveth’s direction. The opening of her fist unleashed a ground shattering concussive wave that split the earth. A massive trench as wide as the giants were tall opened in the virgin soil.
“Let us not fight amongst ourselves while King Cedric prepares the king’s guard and any cutthroat that would join his cause for war,” she repeated.
The first daerveth, standing half a rod taller than the others, lowered his stone club. A deep voice rumbled from his chest. “All daerveth hate the king’s guard. But how do we know you are trustworthy?”
“If I meant any harm, you and your brethren would lie within the fissure,” Loriann smiled, hands lowered for the time being.
“Hrm.” The giant men conversed among themselves in an attempted whisper made impossible by the deep timbre of their voices. Loriann and the men knew the daerveth would take them to meet the daervethi leader.
The first daerveth’s voice rumbled from his chest. “You follow, stay on the path. Anansi like small prey like your men.”
“I would know your name,” Loriann called as she mounted the skittish horse. “I am…”
�
�We know who you and your companions are, Loriann Astus. I am Torg. This is Drom and Sveth,” Torg introduced his men with a wave of the stone club. “Do not talk too much, we must go now.” The daervethi trio led the way with great earth-shaking strides.
“I don’t know how you managed that, my lady,” Ebin murmured as he nudged his mount closer to her own. “But by the gods, I’m glad we didn’t have to fight those fellows.” He glanced at Kaegan with a broad grin. “I sure am glad we’re on her good side, brother. I think I’m more afraid of her than those bastards up ahead.”
Loriann’s lilting laughter followed his words. She kicked the horse into a fast canter to keep pace with the daerveth. “I’m glad you’re on my good side, Ebin. You’d make a funny-looking icicle.”
An incredulous look overcame Ebin’s face. “I’d like to know what’s so damned funny,” he muttered.
Kaegan laughed as a kick to the flanks forced his horse to match Loriann’s pace. “She’s right, you know. You’d be a mighty queer looking icicle.”
***
Vadhen, otherwise known in legends as The Forsaken Lands, was harsh and nearly barren of any vegetation once Walgue Grove was left behind. Dry, brown clumps of thick prairie grass grew sparsely alongside the rough, rock-strewn path.
A long line of the duke’s men followed behind Loriann and the daerveth. After a time the men and horses grew used to the earth’s rumbling with each stride taken by the giant men.
The daerveth led the way through a narrow, rocky aperture into a barren valley marked only by rocks, dry clumps of grass and reddish-brown dirt. A colossal opening marked with two mammoth tusks, large enough for Torg to enter without ducking his head, darkened the mountainside just ahead.
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