Magician's Heir

by D Bruce Cotton

  The huge Dread crashed into the Dark Mage, knocking him aside as it skidded across the floor and into the pool of lava. Black smoke and the stink of burning hair filled the chamber as the Dread’s pelt caught fire. Released from the Dark Mage’s control, Henslow slumped to the ground, unconscious. Craigen snatched up the human’s limp body and ran, desperate to escape. Just before reaching the stone bridge, some instinct made him dodge to the side. A blast of black fire exploded against the ground, knocking him to his knees. The giant glanced back over his shoulder, expecting a second blast to finish him. But the Dread, its body engulfed in flame, ran in circles, slapping at the flames enveloping its body. It stumbled into the Dark Mage and knocked him aside once again.

  The giant wasted no more time. Massive legs pumped like iron pistons. Near the bottom of the bridge, he jumped, landing in the thick ash and bounding toward the still open door. Craigen felt the Dark Mage summoning his power once again... and the rock panel moved. He tossed the unconscious human through the narrowing gap and leaped for the opening. Wide shoulders jammed against the rotating panel, he wedged his arms against the opening and pushed, muscles bunching and straining against the Dark Mage’s implacable power. The panel slowed. Rivulets of sweat poured down the giant’s forehead. Veins popped out as his face darkened with effort. Somehow, he stopped the massive panel. It retracted an inch, then two... With a growl of exertion that threatened to break his spine, Craigen forced the door back, providing just enough clearance to roll through.

  On hands and knees, Craigen gasped for breath as the panel slammed shut with a grinding rumble. He allowed himself only a moment to recover before gathering up Henslow, cradling him in the crook of his left arm. Snatching a torch from the wall, he hurried down the passageway, bent almost double to protect his head from the gnarled ceiling. Left, right, then right again, Craigen took turns at random, trying to throw off any pursuit.

  At the next intersection, he paused, leaning back against cold stone to catch his breath. After placing the human on the cave floor, he cocked one ear to listen for the Dark Mage’s minions. He heard nothing but the slow, sporadic drip of water squeezed from the rock by the mountain’s ponderous weight.

  The giant knelt, but before he could retrieve his burden, Henslow groaned. Eyes clenched shut, the man thrashed, arms and legs slamming against the rocky floor. Craigen held him with one arm, trying to keep him from injury. With the other, he chafed the human’s cheeks in an attempt to rouse him from the throes of nightmare.

  Henslow’s eyes sprang open, mouth stretching wide... but the giant clamped a hand in place, stifling the scream before it started.

  “Quiet!” The giant’s rumbling whisper came low, but urgent. “We have eluded the Dark Mage’s servants for the nonce. Do you wish to bring them upon us again?”

  Henslow struggled a moment and then relaxed when he realized who held him. A brief nod of understanding and the giant removed his hand, ready to slap it back in place if the human tried to call out. “You saved me?” Henslow asked in a hushed tone. At the giant’s nod, he continued, “My thanks. Mere words are not enough. But I thank you all the same.”

  Henslow muffled a groan as the giant helped him to his feet. “He named you Craigen. I am Jacob Henslow. You are a giant?”

  “Aye. You seem unsurprised.”

  “My friend, I find little out there to surprise me these days. And,” he mused, “there is something about nearly losing one’s soul which renders most things inconsequential.” After Craigen retrieved the torch, the two moved down the passageway, careful to remain as quiet as possible. “Do you know the way out?”

  Craigen shook his head. “No. But I am a giant, familiar with mountains and caves. If there is an exit, I will find it. But first...” He stopped and gazed at the ceiling, searching. “We will need a means of defense should they find us.” With a grunt of approval, he wrapped long fingers around a thick stalactite. Oaken muscles bunched and, with a snap, the stone spar broke free. He swung the massive club a few times to test its balance.

  Henslow cleared his throat. “And me?”

  The giant chuckled. He reached up and snapped off a far more slender stalactite to hand to Henslow.

  Nodding his thanks once more, Henslow looked at the length of stone in wonder. Wrist-thick at one end, it tapered to a needle-sharp point at the other. He seemed relieved, more in control, with the heavy weapon in hand.

  The two companions continued along the passageway. Whenever they arrived at a junction, the giant stopped, giving the air a cautious sniff before selecting a new path. Henslow opened his mouth to ask a question, but Craigen waved him to silence. Easing the human’s curiosity came second to remaining quiet.

  At the next intersection, the giant stopped again. But this time he remained still for a long time. He sensed something moving, coming closer.

  “What is...” started Henslow.

  “Shh!” Craigen snatched the man’s arm and fled the way they’d come. Ducking into a side tunnel, the giant hurried around a blind turn... to find the passage blocked with rock and dirt.

  “A cave-in!” muttered Henslow.

  “Quiet, I said,” hissed the giant. He plunged the torch into the dirt and debris, extinguishing its flame.

  Utter blackness wrapped the two companions in ebony arms. Time slowed, the moments dragging by. Stifling silence left them feeling struck deaf and blind. Then... the faint clink of a rock dislodged from its place. A moment later, they heard the soft pad of feet slapping against stone; soon joined by moans and hissing sighs. A pack of Unsouled moved through the darkness. The creatures drew closer... then moved past the opening to the shallow cave. Their shuffling feet echoed along the passageway, growing fainter, before disappearing.

  Unaware he’d been holding his breath, Craigen exhaled with a sigh. Henslow panted at the giant’s side, his relief at their near capture palpable. Bending over, Craigen whispered in the human’s ear, “We will wait a few moments longer, then attempt the passage used by the Unsouled.”

  “But, how?” Henslow asked with a slight quaver in his voice. “Without light, we are blind.”

  “Aye. But my senses are more attuned to such places than are yours,” he responded. “What seems total darkness to a human, I see in muted shades of dark gray. My sense of smell and hearing are more developed, too. You must trust me, Jacob Henslow.”

  Henslow remained silent, but gripped Craigen’s arm as the two set out once again. The giant continued to pause at each intersection, sniffing the air and listening for sound. Twice more, his hearing gave the two just enough time to hide before packs of Unsouled found them. The second time, a Dread led the foul creatures. Henslow and Craigen crouched, sweating, behind a fallen boulder as the beast hesitated, sensing something amiss. At last, the Dread moved on, hurrying to catch up with its charges.

  The passageway lightened. Black gave way to muted grays, the cave taking on more form and substance. Soon even the human could see and walked without help. “The way out is near,” whispered the giant, “but likely guarded. We must use care. Any alarm and they will fall on us from all sides.” Henslow nodded his understanding.

  The passage continued to grow brighter. The two neared a turn in the tunnel and Craigen motioned for Henslow to wait. Careful to avoid any sudden move that might attract attention, the giant edged around the corner. At the end of a long tunnel he saw an opening leading outside. Two Unsouled stood there, guarding the exit. Craigen backed away and huddled with his companion, voice so low the human almost had to read his lips to understand.

  “There are two Unsouled ahead. If linked to a Dread, we cannot reach them without risking an alarm. The daylight will impair their vision. That, at least, is to our advantage.”

  “You have a plan?”

  The giant nodded. “Our best chance is to lure them to us, so we can overcome them before they sound the alarm. Still,” he continued, “others may wait outside. And any Dread linked to them will sense the broken connection right away.
Forewarned, they will come.”

  The two continued to whisper together, weighing their options. At last, decision made, the giant found a small stone and tossed it into the main passageway. The stone hit the far wall before bouncing to a stop with several sharp clicks. The men hugged the wall, weapons gripped in sweating palms, as they waited.

  Silence reigned for several minutes. Craigen stooped to find another rock when he heard the light slap of bare feet against the stone floor. Long shadows appeared on the ground, growing shorter as the two Unsouled drew closer. The giant looked at Henslow and mouthed, “Be ready.”

  It ended fast. Craigen sprang into the corridor, Henslow just a step behind. Swinging the stone club, he smashed the skull of the first creature to jelly. Henslow lacked the giant’s strength, so he charged the second Unsouled, knocking it to the ground and plunging his stone spear through the creature’s eye. Then the two sprinted for the cave opening, slowing as they approached to look for more guards outside.

  Craigen squinted in the bright, morning sunlight, shading his eyes with one hand as he searched for more guards. He saw none. The cave opened onto a steep slope littered with broken, black boulders and rubble spit from the volcano’s mouth. No longer constricted by the tunnel Craigen straightened to his full height. Henslow stared up at him, jaw agape.

  “By the Power, man! You must be 12 feet tall!”

  Shaking his head at the human’s foolishness, Craigen started downhill, careful to avoid breaking an ankle in any of the holes gouged in the mountain’s surface. They encountered many deep, wide gullies and crevices. But the giant’s long legs enabled him to pass over most of them with ease. When Henslow needed help, or they had to detour around an obstacle too great even for Craigen, their progress slowed.

  Henslow panted hard by the time they reached the bottom. Lack of food, water and rest had drained the man’s resilience. Craigen, too, felt the effects of captivity. But the two forced themselves onward, heading straight east and deeper into the Dark Mountains. Craigen hoped the pursuit would expect them to go south. The relentless sun marched across the sky, bringing the day’s end, and darkness, closer.

  “Craigen,” wheezed Henslow, “tell me about yourself, why you are here. It will... help take my mind off our... present difficulties.”

  “As you wish.” But the giant didn’t reply for several minutes, gathering his thoughts before speaking again. “My people are... cautious by nature. We seldom travel far from our homes and families, preferring our own company to the outside world.

  “In that, I am somewhat different. I have long yearned to know the world, to visit new places and peoples.” The giant chuckled. “My mother often said, ‘Craigen, curiosity will bring you naught but sorrow.’ Then she would set me to chopping wood or tending sheep, sure hard work and sweat would cure my inquisitiveness. Ah, my mother,” he added, voice wistful. “Had I but listened.

  “But I suppose it is unimportant now.” He took a deep breath and plunged on. “Three months ago, a human appeared at our settlement.

  “Please understand. My people are long-lived. But none of us, not even old Vestov whose years number three centuries, has ever seen a human. The old-tellers recount stories of the Great War against the Dark Mage, of our alliance with humans to defeat the ancient evil. But most of my people believe it a mere tale, told to frighten children.

  “The human’s arrival soon dissuaded us of such skepticism. He claimed to be a mage himself, proving himself by entertaining our children with small feats of magic. Others would come, he told us, but we should not trust them. He named them agents of the Dark Mage, sent to trick us into leaving our homes, to trap and destroy us. His words seemed wise to our ears and the council of elders agreed to gather and discuss the matter.

  “We are not an impulsive people. Such grave concerns are always given thorough discussion to examine every possible point of contention before reaching a consensus. After a day, the mage grew impatient. After two, he raised doubts about the veracity of our discussions. By the third day, he grew gruff and short of temper. When the council reached agreement on the fourth day—by all means a rash decision for giants—the mage had vanished during the night.”

  Craigen’s voice grew hoarse with emotion. “Later that day, the first child fell ill.

  “Family is precious to us, Henslow, and children our greatest treasure. So this terrible wasting sickness struck at the heart of my people. Our concern grew as more children succumbed. Our healers were helpless before this sickness. Never had they seen a disease spread so fast. It did not affect the adults, touching only the children. The first... died a few weeks later.”

  Tears streaked the giant’s cheeks. The pain of loss and the injury done to his people made speech difficult. “We believed the mage caused the sickness. Only magic could account for our inability to treat it. And the mage’s conduct before he left...”

  Henslow interrupted, “What name did he give?”

  “Meloch,” replied the giant. “He gave his name as Meloch.”

  “Damnation!” snarled Henslow. “Him again?”

  Craigen listened with growing concern as the human explained the mage’s betrayal and Lakeshore’s devastation. “Then we were right,” the giant growled, fists clenched. “Magic poisoned our children. Henslow, my people know naught of such things, and our children are dying. My people sent me to find aid; to seek a cure before it is too late. Only another mage might undo Meloch’s treachery, but I know not where to find one. Can you aid me?”

  Henslow appeared conflicted. “The Council of Mages is in Seir,” he replied, “far to the west and south. I must go there to warn them about Rosner. You could accompany me, but the journey might well take weeks with no transportation but our feet. And the time lost returning to your home...” He hesitated, thinking. “Perhaps there is another way.”

  Henslow told of the first two delegations sent by the Council seeking an alliance with the giants; how he and Adam rode to the rescue of the third embassy after learning of High Mage Serton’s vision. He spoke of the mission’s capture and the decision to separate from Adam; he to pursue those still held captive; Adam to provide aid to Alecia and Aristomus.

  “Both are powerful mages. Even Adam has considerable strength though I fear he does not yet trust himself. And all of them will need help I cannot provide.”

  The giant nodded in understanding. “You wish me to deliver that aid, hoping they will return the favor and succor my people.”

  “Aye, but is it possible? They are many days ahead and travel will be slow afoot.”

  “Slow?” Craigen’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “Giants are slow to anger, slower still when deciding a course of action. But never let it be said a giant is slow afoot. Matching the pace of a giant whose path is clear before him would test your best horse.

  “But, Henslow, if they have already fallen...”

  “What is the alternative? Weeks, perhaps months of travel? How many children will perish by then? This at least provides a chance to help both our peoples while there is still time.” Henslow grabbed the giant’s arm, stopping him. “Help them,” he pleaded. “Please.”

  Craigen remained still for a long time, the conflict between Henslow’s request and what he perceived as his duty etched on his features. At last he sighed, shoulders slumping.

  “I will do as you ask.” He peered down into Henslow’s upraised eyes. “If it is within my power, I will find these mages and lend my aid. But you must help my people. Should you make it to Seir, enlist the help of the mages. If I am unsuccessful, my people must not go unaided.”

  The giant held out his hand. Henslow clasped the massive arm, his face etched with gratitude. “You have my word.”

  Chapter 24, Reunion

  The few hours of rest in Norwich allowed the horses to regain their strength. But the men suffered. Lack of sleep, inadequate food, and the biting cold took a heavy toll. Adam hurt, too; his body crying out for rest. With night fast approaching, he nee
ded to make a decision soon. Should he push on and risk breaking the men’s spirits? Or stop and allow the Unsouled to lengthen their lead? Every passing hour—every minute—increased the chance of Alecia’s eventual capture. Adam shuddered as he remembered Serton’s vision. No, they couldn’t stop, no matter what the consequences. He’d continue on alone if he had to.

  Fading light filtered through the thick clouds when Marshel signaled a halt. Furious, Adam opened his mouth to demand an explanation. Then he saw another horse appear out of the gloom ahead. When the mount came closer, he recognized the rider, Josuf, the soldier sent by Marshel to scout ahead.

  “What did you find?” Adam burst out. “Is it them?”

  Josuf stared at Adam a moment before turning to Marshel. “They number two score and ten about a league distant. Only one Dread leads them. They move to the southeast, but not fast. I...” he paused. “I believe they track someone, though I saw no one else.”

  “It must be Alecia,” Adam blurted. “We have to save her. If we attack now...”

  “With only seven men?” Marshel exclaimed, incredulous. “We have no chance against so many. And a frontal assault against a Dread without a mage...? Unless you...”

  “No,” answered Adam, head dropping in shame. “I... I don’t know how to make it work.”

  “Then we must use stealth. We will use these foothills, get ahead of the Unsouled, and set an ambush. Perhaps we can kill the Dread in the initial assault. It is the only plan which provides any chance of success.”

  Adam looked up. “What can I do?”

  Marshel’s lips set in a grim line. “Stay out of our way. And pray there is but one Dread.”

  THE HORSES STAGGERED as they fought to gain traction on the snow-covered slopes. Though not tall, the hills allowed the company to gain a few hundred feet of elevation. Better yet, the ridges provided a small break against the bitter wind and cover from enemy eyes below.