The Heir of Gorradan (Chronicles of Faerowyn Book 2)

by Tony Roberts

  Lace shrugged and looked at Heller who shrugged. The Captain nodded. “Very well, Blade, you take first watch with Lysak in that case. Don’t stand still; move about. Keep one of you by the door here. I’ll go on second with Kaptash.”

  “I’ll take third,” Heller grunted, “with Polian.”

  Lace agreed and waved to the others to settle down. Two fires were lit and some of the smashed furnishings were used to fuel the flames. Faer took up her position, noting that lengths of wood had been propped against the doors to stop them from being pushed in. She wondered if they would stop the kaldeen; those creatures seemed too strong to keep out. What would happen to them if a group of twenty came at them she didn’t want to think about.

  She walked slowly around the walls. There had probably been at one time hangings, similar to tapestries, on the walls, for there were hooks in a couple of places and holes in the walls where others had been. Lying on the floor next to the walls were piles of rotted material that could have been tapestries or banners. Her feet left imprints in the dust. The walls were smooth, and alcoves came at regular intervals. Maybe there had been statues here, or perhaps plants, or there again possibly guard positions.

  Towards the rear there were doors, three of them, all double doors. They were shut and barred with wooden lengths through the handles. She looked thoughtfully at them. This was more like a box, designed to keep out whatever lurked beyond. Why at night? She encountered Lysak on her next sweep. “What is dangerous here at night?”

  Lysak looked at the others, now sleeping. He kept his voice down. “It is said creatures of the night roam here, the dead. Those who once lived here when Caldok was great. Nothing we have can kill them, and they seek the living.” He shivered and walked away.

  “The dead?” she said to herself. She thought on the matter. Her reading of the old Dark Elf pages back in the library at Kaltinar mentioned something called necromancy, the art of controlling the dead. It was known that dark elves used magic to animate corpses to serve them. Did she have any of these powers? She searched within herself. Nothing came to her. She sought her other self out. “Well? Can you control the dead?”

  There came a soft laughter inside her head. Perhaps. There are so many powers we may have, my human sister, yet we lack the knowledge. We need a corpse to practice on.

  “No, we cannot do that. We wait. There are plenty of dead to come – when we have the chance, not until then.”

  Her dark half protested, but she was firm. The watch continued. Out of boredom she explored more of the chamber. Apart from a number of benches and tables, there was little here of interest. It did seem to be an entry chamber for visitors to sit and wait until they were called. How long ago was it? The other matter to consider was where was this route taking them? The caves, they said, but with only seven there wasn’t much they could do. Did Lace have plans, or were they just running now, a small group of fugitives? She couldn’t see Theruddas giving up his pursuit.

  What would happen to Mrs. Lace now the lies and deceptions of Capel had been uncovered she didn’t know, but clearly there was no reason for the king’s advisor – the real power behind the throne – to keep his word. Not that keeping his word was ever on his agenda. Faer pondered on the matter. What would happen to Jerethal if Capel and Theruddas were removed? Maybe that was the right way to removing the powerbase of the king.

  So who exactly, she thought, was this ‘heir’, if he wasn’t really related to Jerethal. Clearly Jerethal didn’t have him, neither did Capel. Did Lace know? Faer felt a rush of irritation course about her veins. Nobody was being straightforward and honest with her.

  When her shift ended, she woke Lace. The soldier woke with a protest, then nodded and got to his feet. Lysak swapped with Kaptash. Faer lay down close to one of the fires and propped her head against her pack. It was warm enough with the fires not to need blankets which was a relief. She lay there for a while, then her eyes became too heavy and she slept.

  It was a change in the atmosphere that alerted her. She was awake in an instant, her eyes focussing and coming to rest on two men standing in an alert posture by the door. Heller and Polian. She rolled onto her hands and knees and got to her feet in one fluid movement, sword in hand. She came up to the two men. Heller put a finger to his lips, pointing to the door.

  Someone – or something – was outside. She could hear the moaning of the wind, something that had been absent when she had been on duty. It seemed a storm was building. Great. Something scraped along the outside of the door, and then it was gone. All held their breaths. Then it came again.

  The door shook. “Damn it,” Heller growled. “They know we’re here. Get the captain up,” he ordered Polian.

  Faer came alongside. “What is it?”

  “Probably the dead. We’re done for if they get in.”

  Faer stepped towards the door. Heller did nothing to stop her. The doors were now shaking and moving, being pushed by whatever was outside. “How did they find out we were here?”

  Heller shrugged. “Maybe the fires. Maybe they can smell blood. Who knows? This place is packed with the fallen and there’s always some roaming about the ruins at night. Even the Kaldeen know better than to go patrolling at night. These things will rip you to shreds and whatever is left after that will join their ranks.”

  Faer shivered, her heart pounding. The door crashed to a heavy blow, then it went silent. Lace and the others were up and awake by now, grabbing their equipment. Lace threw Faer her pack and she shrugged it on. “No option but to go into the chambers,” Lace said grimly. “Might as well take our chances in there than out here with these things.”

  “Either way we’re finished,” Heller predicted gloomily. “Damned stupid way to end my life.”

  “Oh shut up Heller,” Faer snapped. “If you’ve got nothing intelligent to say then don’t say anything.”

  “And what great plan have you got up your sleeves then?” he retorted. “Nothing, I’ll wager. You’re all bluster, aren’t you? Your fire won’t affect the dead, so what will you do?”

  “I’ll think of that once I have to,” she said. They looked as the door shuddered again. It looked as if it wouldn’t hold for long.

  Lace led them towards the rear of the room. “Let’s get going. Blade, lead the way, use your dark vision. We daren’t use torches – the heat is something they detect.”

  Faer nodded. “Rope everyone together,” she said. Hastily they did, then she moved off through the left hand door, her boots crunching on pieces of stone, plaster and other old objects. Her eyes moved left and right, finding the shades of grey easy to make out. The passageway ran ahead and off to the left hand side were a number of doors, many were shut but one or two were open. A quick glance inside those as she passed, but nothing registered.

  What would the dead reveal themselves as? Certainly no heat. Things were chilly here, the winter temperature gripping the interior of the building, but at least it was warmer inside than out in the growing storm. Objects were merely differing shades of grey. They walked close to the solid wall, the six men behind her putting their trust in the dark elf/human girl. They all walked with their hands touching the wall for comfort.

  “Chamber opening ahead,” she commented. Double doors were open, one completely wide, the other partially. One handle was ripped off. She spoke softly, but she wondered just how the dead could hear; if their life was gone, then how could they hear? How could they detect anything? Air pressure? Warmth? Some other sense not possessed by the living?

  The chamber was a small one, a kind of antechamber. Pushed to the right was what was left of a desk and chair, now in pieces. Another door stood in the far wall. Stood by the far door was a shape, humanoid, but grey. She drew in her breath. “Stop,” she whispered. “I think one of them is in here.”

  “Where?” Lace asked.

  “Directly ahead. I’ll go see.”

  “Don’t do anything risky,” Lace said, hoping to the gods of all the heavens nothing
horrible was about to happen.

  Faer advanced, her sword gripped tightly in her hand. The shape turned slowly to face her. It was skeletal, with a tail. It looked like the skeleton of one of the Caldokians. Can you feel the power within it? her dark elf side whispered to her. Faer halted and trembled, her entire being taking in the aura of the creature before her. There was a power emanating from it and Faer felt it – a dark oppressive feeling that made her stomach turn. This was truly evil.

  The skeleton lurched forward, clawed arms outstretched, seeking her soft, warm, living flesh, wanting to destroy it in its mindless hatred. Faer’s heart leaped and her lower regions tightened. Her sword seemed to come alive in her hand and she swept it at the being from wide to her right, crushing its left arm and striking the rib cage.

  There came an unearthly shriek and something sank away from her senses. The skeleton collapsed into a heap. The feeling of dread left her. She stood over it, not really comprehending what had happened.

  “Blade?” Lace’s voice came to her, anxious. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s alright, Captain,” she answered. “I – I’ve defeated it.”

  “What?” Lace sounded sceptical.

  Heller’s voice came out of the dark at her. “Hah! Probably not one of the dead. You sure you were facing one of them?”

  “See for yourself then!” she snapped. “Light a torch.” She was beginning to realise her sword had far greater powers than she had suspected. Could it really destroy the power that animated one of the dead? She looked at her sword blade, her eyes wondering at the strange symbols etched along it. What did they really mean? They weren’t in a language she understood, and she could read the elf language. Was it an arcane set of symbols, created long ago, a time of which all memories had now been lost?

  A torch spluttered into life and light grew throughout the antechamber. The six men slowly spread out from their single line, unfastening the rope from their belts. Lace and Heller came up to the pile of bones and examined it. They looked at one another in wonder. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Lace said softly. He looked at Faer. “How?”

  She pointed to her sword. “I hit it once and it just – collapsed.”

  “Sir, more in the next chamber,” Lysak said grimly. “Quite a few of them.”

  Lace muttered an obscenity. He looked back. “Polian, go see if the corridor back there’s still free.”

  The rest of the group looked through the double doors and into a huge space. What looked like an altar or stone table stood at the far end, and before this a set of semi-circular stone benches were arranged. The middle of the room was set lower than the rest of the chamber. Sat here were about fifteen skeletons, similar to the one Faer had just defeated. They were inert but ominously sitting upright, something they should not be doing.

  “I’m willing to bet once we go near them they come to life,” Heller predicted gloomily. “What does this map say about this area? Any other way out?”

  “No,” Lace said. “Far side, one exit, out to the rear of the city. River crossing close by. A road, a bridge, a gatehouse, then we’re out.”

  Faer examined the skeleton. Her other half was whispering into her brain. She knelt and placed her hand on the skull of the creature, then closed her eyes. She imagined a dark force within herself, a well of blackness. With her dark elf side encouraging her, she sucked in energy, forcing it into herself from the air around her. Her body temperature rose with the energy expended, and the ball of negative energy swelled. Now send it into the skeleton her elfin half advised.

  Faer pushed the blackness along her arm and into her hand, and then pushed the tingling sensation through her fingers into the skull of the creature. She felt herself drain as the energy flowed into it, then she sank back, head bowed, temporarily exhausted. Her fingers were burning.

  “What are you doing?” Heller demanded above her.

  “Stay back,” she whispered, sweat coating her face. “All of you, stay back.”

  Heller looked alarmed and retreated rapidly. It was the way she had said it that he had found unsettling. “Captain…” he said slowly.

  Lace turned. He saw the pile of bones before Faer move. He gulped, his heart racing. All the men watched, spellbound, as the remains of the Caldokian slowly rose to its feet. Faer groaned and used her sword as a support, getting on hers too. She looked at the empty eye sockets of the creature. “Guard,” she said in dark elvish. The skeleton didn’t move at first, then it turned and stood in front of her, facing the men.

  “What have you done?” Lace said in a hushed voice, aghast.

  “Animated it. Or, re-animated it.” She wiped her face. The weakness was slowly passing but she wouldn’t be able to function much for a while. “I know the dark elves use power to control the dead, and I thought I would try it out. It’s so draining. I doubt I’d be able to do more than this one.”

  Heller gripped his sword tightly. “That – thing – will turn on us all!”

  She shook her head. “it obeys me. I have asked it to guard me. Anyone coming too close will run the risk of attracting its attention, so keep back.”

  Polian came back, hesitating at the sight of the skeleton standing by Faer. “Uh, sir, something’s coming this way from the direction we’ve come from. Lots of things.”

  “Damn it – trapped.” Lace looked hunted. “How many?”

  “Don’t know sir, I didn’t stay to find out, but there’s loads.”

  Lace pointed to the rubbish in the room. “Shut those doors and pack all the debris against them. We’ve got to hold them off.” He glanced at Faer. “Don’t know what you intend doing with your pet, but I suggest you do something fast or we’ll all be like that in a short while.”

  “What about the chamber behind us?” she asked, glancing from Lace to the creature under her control. She felt stronger, enough to hold her sword upright. Whether she could engage in combat was another matter.

  “If we have to go in there I doubt we’ll remain ignored.”

  “Well let’s do it then. No point in hanging around here waiting to be turned into the dead.”

  Lace nodded curtly. “Secure these doors,” he ordered two of his men, “then join us in the chamber beyond.”

  They made their way rapidly to the big room where the council had once sat. They kept to the edge of the room, keeping against one of the walls, but there was a point where they came perilously close to two of the skeletons, which were sat facing the centre of the chamber, just a few paces away.

  The two men left to secure the other doors came in hurriedly. “Things are trying to beat the doors in, sir,” Polian said. The strain on his face was clear to all.

  Lace grunted. “In that case we’d best get going. Move on,” he waved to Lysak. With the scout in the lead, they filed along, Faer second with her ‘pet’. As Lysak passed the two closest skeletons, they stood. Lysak cried out in fear.

  “Protect,” Faer said. She knew that these creatures tended to obey simple commands. Whether it was the spoken word or the emotion behind it, she didn’t know, but the skeleton seemed to understand, for it stepped to one side, towards the two creatures which had turned and were now heading for Lysak and Faer.

  Faer stepped up, close behind her minion. It swept at the right hand one, grappling it, and both became locked in an unequal struggle. With only one arm, though, Faer’s seemed to be at a disadvantage. The left hand one ignored the combatting skeletons and came for her. She grabbed her hilt in both hands and slashed down hard cross-wise, striking the skeleton from clavicle through the ribs and out at the bottom.

  With a sound like pebbles falling onto a hard floor, the skeleton collapsed, and she once again felt some kind of heavy force flee from it, leaving it a mere pile of bones. Turning, she saw her skeleton being forced back so she thrust the point of her sword into the ribs of the dead Caldokian. It shuddered and tried to pull free but the sword sucked what energy that was keeping it animated out of it and it fell.

  �
��Follow,” she said. Obediently the skeleton walked after her. She glanced left and through the partly open doors back to where they had come from. There was movement. Clearly the doors hadn’t held. She ran after Polian, the back man of the six. The skeleton couldn’t run – these things just couldn’t.

  The men were all vanishing through a small doorway. She reached it and turned. Her skeleton was not going to make it. It was injured and slow. Four huge creatures of bones were closing in on it. Time to sacrifice it. “Protect!”

  The thing turned and faced impossible odds. Faer grabbed the door and slammed it shut. There was nothing to keep it shut but she took off after Polian, running along a narrow passageway. She had got halfway along when the door behind her rattled and shook. She didn’t look back but kept going, head down, heart pounding.

  At the end was an open doorway. The door here had vanished long ago. The dawn was breaking and the sky was beginning to lighten. Slate grey, heavy and likely to snow once again. A cold wind blew hard from the right, laden with moisture. Gritting her teeth she emerged and stepped over two guttering torches that had been thrown down. The six men ahead of her were running full-pelt for a long bridge in the distance. A half-covered road seemed to lead to it and beyond was a crumbling, half-ruined and weed-infested gatehouse. One look behind her was enough. The creatures were still pursuing her. They were some distance behind but seemed to be locked onto the group.

  She was not closing the gap between the men and her, and she had to force down the panic trying to rise up within her. Stay strong, a familiar voice came to her. Faer swallowed. “Yes, I will.”

  The road was uneven. Tree roots had pushed many of the slabs up and the footing was treacherous. The bridge was in poor shape. Half of the surface had fallen into the white raging water below, and only one path was available. She nimbly jumped from one solid slab to another. The wind tried to push her off the span, shrieking insanely at her. She was light, and felt the wind pushing hard. Grabbing the rusted rails on the side, she stepped onwards, head lowered, face turning numb through the cold.