Thomas watched her go and disappear into the peopled streets. He surveyed the town.
The buildings were all made of stone. People and livestock roamed up and down the dirt streets. Here and there, vendors hawked their wares.
Across the way, something caught Thomas’s eye. Who is that? There! And there he is again!
Thomas finally made out, behind one of the street vendors, that weasel-looking man from the store. Not good. That guy must have followed them. Thomas looked up and down the street. What should I do?
He glanced back to where the weasel-man had been standing. Gone! Then Thomas saw the man talking to someone around the corner of a building. Who was he talking to?
It was the girl from the tavern. Still hooded she had a quick word then just as quickly surreptitiously exchanged something with the Weasel. Then she blended into the crowd and was gone.
Then, to Thomas’s horror, three dark-robed giants stepped around the corner—shadow warriors! Thomas stood, frozen in fear and indecision, as things switched to slow motion, and the Weasel pointed right at him. His blood chilled as the warriors turned their helm covered heads and locked their burning red gazes on him.
Chapter 24
Move, Thomas—move! The boy tried to motivate his frozen body. “I said, Move!”
And with that, he was off. He ran into the alley next to the pub, scrambling for a place to hide. He spied a door in the back of the building! He ran to it and pounded his small fist as hard as he could.
“Who is it?” a deep voice demanded from behind the closed door.
“It’s me. Thomas! And, uh, uh…” What was that guy’s name? Oh yeah! “Deacon. I have to speak to Deacon!”
The door opened a crack. An arm poked through and jerked Thomas through the opening.
“What are you doing, yelling my name to the world like that?” Deacon demanded. “Do you know what secret means?”
“A strange man was watching me and then... he, uh...” Thomas stammered.
“Spit it out!”
Thomas took a deep breath and shouted: “Shadow warriors!”
Deacon’s frustration turned to focus. He addressed the man.
“We must be off!”
He shook the man’s hand. “For the kingdom.”
“For the kingdom!”
Deacon and Thomas slipped out the back door and snuck up the alley. Out of habit, Deacon reached back to take Thomas’s hand. Thomas stared at the man’s outstretched hand a moment, then accepted his grip.
Deacon’s hand completely enveloped Thomas’s; the strength and the coarseness of the calluses from years of dragon’s reins gave reassurance to the boy. They came to the edge of the alley, carefully peered around the corner. The shadow warriors were talking to “the Weasel,” as Thomas designated him.
“Maybe he didn’t see me,” Thomas offered hopefully.
That hope died instantly. The Weasel pointed right at them, then at the tavern’s rear door. Two of the shadow warriors marched purposefully in their direction, and the other headed down another alley.
“Uh-oh,” Thomas groaned.
“Run!” Deacon urgently whispered. And he was off. Thomas was frozen a moment, then took off after Deacon as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Wait for me!”
Deacon stopped to allow Thomas to catch up, then scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The man bolted on down the narrow alley.
Thomas looked up from his backward position over Deacon’s shoulder, to see the shadow warriors closing in.
“Run faster! Must run faster!” urged Thomas.
Deacon put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle.
Though nearly two streets away, the stabled Thorn heard his master’s summons and raised his head from consuming a massive piece of venison, bits of it still dangling from his mouth. Thorn grunted, then bowed to continue his tasty meal.
Deacon had put a little distance between himself and the dark soldiers.
“Thorn!” he yelled.
Thorn lifted his head again, moaned, and returned to his meal. He wasn’t ready to pull himself away from his savory, long-awaited supper.
Deacon and Thomas rounded a tree.
“Thorn!!!” Deacon shouted at the top of his lungs as he got within yards of the stable’s entrance and Thorn.
The great dragon rose to attention. Deacon ran up, swung Thomas into Thorn’s saddle, and turned just in time to duck the swinging metal orb of the first shadow warrior’s mace.
Deacon had his sword instantly out and swinging, but the mace-wielding shadow warrior backed out of its range. The two combatants crossed mace chain with sword blade, and there was lots of ducking on both sides. Deacon intentionally tried to draw the shadow warrior away from Thomas and Thorn.
But Deacon didn’t realize that the second dark soldier had gone to Thorn’s other side, and was whispering to Thomas while stealthily pulling his sword: “Boy!” Reflexively, Thomas turned in response.
“Come to me, boy,” the warrior hissed through his helm, and the bloodless, wraithlike voice froze Thomas. He could only watch, wide-eyed in fear, as the warrior’s gloved hand reached to snatch him.
“Hh-e-l-pp!” Thomas barely croaked out as the shadow warrior’s hand came closer. And that’s when Thorn’s mighty muscled tail slammed into the second warrior, sending him arcing through the air until he smashed into a boulder. He rolled off the stone, a broken heap.
Thomas snapped out of his paralysis. “Wow, Thorn!” he said in awe. “Home run!” And he petted the dragon like a big dog. “Good dragon!”
Thorn snorted in response, then realized his master was pinned against a fence, with the mace-swinger blocking his sword parries and wearing him down.
Thorn rose to move where he could use his tail again, and Thomas grabbed at the saddle horn reflexively—while also enjoying the feeling of all this power under him.
But that enjoyment was short-lived, as there was a rush of wind, and a dark shadow passed over, momentarily obscuring the sun. Thomas looked up, but before he could react, he heard a terrible screech, and massive talons plucked him off of Thorn’s saddle and high into the air.
Chapter 25
Thomas screamed as the ground fell away at a dizzying rate. He was being lifted higher and higher in the clutches of the third shadow warrior’s flying beast. The monster’s black hide glinted in the sunlight, and its eyes smoldered like fiery coals.
Thomas kicked and yelled, but to no avail. There was no breaking the vise-like grip. Looking down, Thomas weighed his options: Be eaten by a black dragon monster? Or fall from this height?
One more look at the giant, disgusting, bat-like lizard and Thomas continued his struggle. I’ll take my chances, Thomas thought.
The beast sensed the struggle, turned his angular head toward Thomas, and emitted a blood-curdling screech. Thomas tried to cover his ears from the piercing blast.
Back on the ground, Deacon blocked another mace swing and parried feverishly—to keep the mace-swinger unaware of Thorn’s gradual movements behind him.
And at just the right time, Thorn’s tail tapped the shadow warrior on the butt, he looked surprised, and that was more than enough time for Deacon to slice his blade rapidly upward, expertly slicing just a fraction under the shadow warrior’s metal helm.
The warrior’s head went tumbling end-over-end. His body hung for a minute, then toppled lifelessly to the dirt.
Deacon leaped back onto Thorn’s saddle.
“Up, Thorn!”
With Thorn’s booming battle cry, they were after Thomas, rocketing into the sky.
The mighty beating of Thorn’s powerful wings quickly closed the distance to the ebony beast and his rider.
Thorn trumpeted.
Still dangling from the beast’s iron talons, Thomas looked back. Hearing the call of his newfound giant friend, he suddenly went from despair to hope.
“Thorn!”
The shadow warr
ior and his mount wheeled to meet the attack.
Thomas watched helplessly as Thorn and Deacon bore down on his position.
“Oh please, oh please, oh please—God help me!”
The beasts and riders hurtled toward each other; Deacon and the shadow warrior both pulled their swords, like medieval jousters in the sky.
Seeing Thorn hurtling toward it, the shadow warrior’s beast dropped Thomas from his clutches.
Thomas screamed as he fell.
Deacon saw the boy plummeting. “Thomas!” Then: “Thorn, get him.”
Thorn trumpeted his agreement, and they swooped under the approaching black beast and dove toward Thomas.
Seeing the ground’s swift approach, Thomas continued screaming.
Deacon bent in the saddle. Dragon and rider torpedoed toward the helpless boy—focused, muscles taut, ready to spring. As their trajectories met, Deacon snatched Thomas from mid-air and swung him back into the safety of the saddle behind him.
Thomas clung to Deacon. “That was close,” he gasped, overcome with relief. Deacon looked at the ground, measuring the distance in his mind. He said sardonically, “Oh, you were still at least two dragon-lengths from the ground.” That doesn’t sound all that far to me! Thomas thought.
Thorn landed. Deacon helped Thomas slide to the ground.
But Thomas didn’t immediately release his grip on Deacon’s hand. Catching Deacon’s eye, the boy said heartily: “Thank you.”
Deacon softened a bit.
“Stay here, lad, and out of sight. I’ll be right back.” Then: “Up, Thorn.”
Thomas watched with awe as his rescuers launched back into the sky.
“Go get ’em!” Thomas whispered as he watched the dragon and his rider climb to meet the shadow warrior and his beast.
The shadow warrior noticed his followers. Reining his dragon into a tight turn, he spurred his beast to meet the challengers. Thorn beat his mighty wings, picking up speed. Beat-for-beat, the black monster matched Thorn’s pace, and the two careened toward each other.
Deacon cringed, bracing for impact, “This will hurt.”
Whoomp! The dragons collided in mid-air, becoming a tangle of wings, talons, and teeth. The beasts clung to each other, clawing and biting while their riders hung on tight and tried to stab each other in passing.
Each dragon gripped one of the other dragon’s wings with jagged teeth, so they were no longer flying, they spun toward the ground. Realizing this, both Deacon and the shadow warrior tried to stab at the head of his opponent’s dragon to make it release the hampered wing.
Then Deacon snuck a glance at the fast-approaching ground and yelled: “Thorn!”
Thorn refused to release his enemy. “Thorn!!”
Thorn ignored him, and the ground loomed ever closer. Resigned to his death, Deacon stabbed at the black dragon’s head again and put out one of its eyes.
Bellowing in pain, it released Thorn’s wing, and, at the last possible moment, Thorn flapped and maneuvered to be above the black beast. The beast was now falling upside down, with the shadow warrior still strapped in the saddle under him.
Deacon, realizing, screamed: “Now, Thorn!!!”
Thorn pushed off the other dragon’s chest and launched back into the sky.
The upside-down shadow warrior stopped trying to get himself unstrapped, and entirely took in the granite surface that would end him. His body began to blur and turn to shadow, but there wasn’t enough time to morph!
He screamed as Deacon muttered: “Go back to the one who spawned you.” The dark beast slammed into the ground, and the crushed shadow warrior went silent.
Thorn looked one last time on his enemy, then turned and gave a mighty roar of victory.
Deacon reined his dragon. “Come on, Thorn. Let’s go get the boy.”
Chapter 26
“Not bad, eh?” Said Deacon, as his teeth tugged another bite of meat off the charred skewer in his hand.
Thomas and Deacon sat eating in a large cave, huddled close to a small campfire. The fire’s flickering light cast shadows on the cave’s rock walls and ceiling. Thorn lay near them. His giant body formed a backrest for Deacon, and his tail was wrapped protectively near Thomas.
“Boy, I guess I was pretty hungry,” remarked Thomas. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “What is this?”
“Cliff rat.”
Thomas let that sink in. “Hmm. I know it’s a total cliche but— it tastes like chicken.”
The campfire crackled. Deacon stared into its flames, content with the silence.
“So, where we headed now?” Thomas asked.
“Home.”
“Is it far?”
“Yes, another day or so as the dragon flies.”
Thomas pondered this a moment. “You’re a long way from home. I bet your family can’t wait to see you.”
Deacon continued staring into the flames.
“You know—a wife, some kids?”
“I don’t have a family,” Deacon responded flatly. “Too busy fighting shadow warriors.”
Thomas decided to change the subject.
“Who are they? The shadow warriors, I mean.”
“Darcon’s henchmen.”
“Are they after you?”
“Let’s just say, I’m a pretty popular guy,” Deacon smirked.
“Why is that?”
“I have something Darcon wants.”
“What’s that?”
“My head.”
Thomas took that in, then asked: “What’s going on here? How’d this all start?”
Chapter 27
Deacon finished his last bite, then threw that skewer in the fire and took a swig from his leather canteen. After wiping his mouth, he leaned in. The campfire cast an eerie glow on his face as he said:
“N’albion was once a peaceful and flourishing kingdom. The royal family was kind and benevolent to their subjects. Then, many years ago, a traveler with vast knowledge came to the castle to tutor the prince.
“This tutor quickly gained favor with the king. The tutor soon became a royal advisor—and, at the same time, grew in power beyond the palace. Unbeknownst to the king, the advisor was forming an alliance with a band of evil priests known as the Shadow Cult.”
“With these priests, the advisor began to practice all forms of evil magic, to do what ought not to be done. Using their dark magic, they opened the door to the Shadow Realm and made an alliance with the dark ones—the deformed men and dragons who are the shadow warriors and their hideous beasts.”
Thomas listened intently, the darkness outside the cave seemed to creep into his soul. He couldn’t help but scoot a little closer to the fire.
Deacon continued: “And on one frightful night, the advisor and his followers… murdered the royal family. And that man’s name was Darcon.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Darcon and those loyal to him quickly subdued and oppressed the subjects of N’albion, slaying thousands in the process. Still, there is a small band of men and women who, though forced into hiding, oppose him with their lives, and plot to overthrow him. We will restore Nalbion to the place it once was.”
Finished with the story, Deacon leaned back against Thorn. But Thomas wasn’t satisfied: “Wait. So these dark guys, the shadow warriors, they’re shadows, right? So how can you kill a shadow?”
An owl hooted somewhere in the night. Thomas flinched.
“Shadow warriors have to materialize to do anything in the physical world, like hold a sword or strike one of us. When they are in their physical form, they can be killed just like you or I… so long as they are no more than three moments into their shadow-turn.”
Thomas sat back, thinking it through.
“That’s how the one who fell was killed.”
“Aye, he didn’t have time to turn back to shadow.” Deacon winked.
A low rumble rolled through the cave, and a stench arose from Thorn’s rear end.
“Thorn!” Thomas grimaced and
ran out of the cave, waving his hand in front of his nose. “That’s horrible!” the boy uttered between grimacing breaths.
“That’s it. No more cliff-rat for you, beast.” Deacon’s voice echoed out of the cave.
Thorn whimpered.
Thomas suddenly got a glint in his eye and ran back into the cave. He sat next to Deacon and leaned in toward the fire with a mischievous grin.
“Okay, I’ve got a story for you.”
Taking a deep breath, Thomas began with his best scary voice: “It happened on a dark and stormy night. A young couple was parking and listening to the radio.”
“Suddenly the news came on, and an announcer said: ‘Warning! An insane murderer has just escaped from the local asylum. Beware, he is considered extremely dangerous. He is six feet tall with dark hair, and in place of his right hand there is”—Thomas whipped up his hand with one finger curled—“a hook!”
Deacon yawned.
“Get it? A hook!” Thomas waved his crooked finger in the air.
“Enough stories,” Deacon said, standing and retrieved a blanket from Thorn’s saddlebag. “Time to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow, and we need to be at our best.”
Thorn growled.
“I know!” Deacon slapped Thorn’s haunches. “You are always at your best.”
Deacon threw the blanket to Thomas. Then tossed another log on the fire, plopped on the ground, rolled over with his back to the heat, and settled in for the night.
Thomas, unsure of himself, laid down and tried to get comfortable. He closed his eyes, then, suddenly, sat up, searching the ground, he found a large rock and tossed it out of the mouth of the cave. Satisfied that the earth was as comfortable as he could make it, he laid back down again, stared at the ceiling of the cave and watched the shadows flicker.
“Deacon? Are you asleep?”
“Yes,” came the gruff response.
“Oh.”
Silence.
“Deacon?”
OTHERLANDER: A Long Way From Home Page 5