The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck

by Jason McWhirter

  Addalis, who was more mentally practiced, struggled as well, but was faring better. The cleric was powerful; hence his spell was potent, carrying the weight of his dark heart and backed by the power of the Forsworn. But Addalis was also strong and an experienced wizard, who practiced daily to strengthen and sharpen his mind, enabling him to push back the wall of fear that was threatening him. He was visibly trembling as he fought the spell, but finally he was able to move his hand slowly toward his daggers. His brow dripped with sweat as he battled against the spell, finally winning the struggle once his hand gripped the magical hilt of the knife. It was as if a thick cloud of fear had blown away and he could suddenly breathe. His hand shot out quickly, sending two daggers flying through the air towards the two Blackhearts who were nearly on him. One dagger struck the first Blackheart in the neck, stopping him instantly, while the second dagger hit the remaining guard in the shoulder, spinning him around and halting his charge. Addalis quickly retrieved two more daggers and within two heartbeats had them flying through the air. One struck the injured guard in the chest, dropping him to the ground, and the fourth dagger flew toward the powerful cleric, Dakar.

  Dakar growled and turned towards the fast approaching Blade Singer. Laughing maniacally, he summoned more power from his god. He felt his call being answered, but then the link just vanished. That was when he felt the pain. He choked as blood poured down his throat. He stumbled, clutching his neck, where a small dagger had been embedded. Then another knife slammed into his chest, penetrating his lung.

  The pain didn’t last long as the agile Blade Singer came in quickly, ramming her silver sword through his chest and out his back. She ripped her sword out, spinning by the cleric as he crumbled to the ground, convulsing briefly as he died.

  The Blackheart guard was nearly on Fil. Only moments had passed, but to Fil it felt like an eternity. His body still wouldn’t move, and for some reason his frantic eyes glanced from the attacking guard to Jonas. What he saw broke through the prison of his fear and his anger burst forth like an erupting volcano. He had no idea what they had done to his friend, but it looked to be severe, and the thought of Jonas being tortured by these vermin brought forth more anger than Fil thought possible. His boiling emotions broke through the fear just as the guard’s sword was upon him. The fear spell actually worked to Fil’s advantage, as the attacking Blackheart thought that Fil was still immobilized. But just when the guard thought that Fil was dead, he jumped to the side, the man’s sword striking nothing but air and throwing him off balance. Fil swung his sword in a downward chop, connecting with the back of the man’s neck with devastating results. He just had time to quickly parry the attack of the second guard. But this man was untrained, and it wasn’t long before he too was lying dead on the dirty arena floor.

  Durgen and Kromm continued to battle Jonas. It was impossible to do anything other than trying to avoid his dancing sword, at the same time taking care to keep their own weapons from injuring him. They could not keep up the evasion forever. Jonas was too skilled, something had to be done.

  Finally, Addalis gave them the opportunity they needed. The wizard’s two daggers disappeared from Dakar’s body, reappearing back in their sheaths just as he reached for them again. Addalis knew Jonas would be a tough target to hit in the midst of the battling trio. He moved to the side for a better opening, quickly throwing two daggers towards Jonas’s back, aiming for the back of his legs.

  The first knife missed, but the second took Jonas in the back of the thigh. He stumbled, turning to face his attacker, giving Kromm the opening he needed. Dropping his sword, Kromm tackled Jonas, wrapping his huge arms around him as they both tumbled to the ground. The king tightened his hold, fighting to subdue the writhing body of his friend.

  Jonas screamed like an animal possessed. Kromm responded by tightening his muscles even more. Like a boa constrictor, the mighty king’s arms embraced him. He then wrapped his thick legs around Jonas’s body while wrapping one arm around his arms and another across his neck. Kromm, his muscles straining with the effort, continued to squeeze. Jonas shook and struggled, but slowly his efforts diminished as his airway was compressed. His screams gradually turned to sharp gasps as he struggled to breathe.

  “Be careful,” warned Allindrian who had just joined them after quickly dispatching the fifth guard. “Do not squeeze too hard.” Kromm did not answer for he was concentrating on holding on to the young warrior. Jonas was strong, and it was not easy, even for the powerful king, to hold him still. But finally Jonas stopped struggling and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Fil, having just dispatched two guards, ran towards Jonas. “Is he okay?” he asked, kneeling by the unconscious cavalier.

  Kromm got to his feet, surveying the scene. Addalis was now directing his stinking cloud down the corridor after the retreating men who had been watching, and more than likely betting on the fights. Some of those men may have been Blackhearts, but there was no way of knowing. Everyone else was looking down at Jonas. “He should be fine,” Kromm said. “He is merely unconscious.”

  “What is wrong with him?” Fil asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know, but by the looks of that symbol on his head, and that scarring on his chest, he has been corrupted by the Forsworn. We cannot fix him without help,” Allindrian replied.

  “What are we to do?” Fil asked.

  Everyone looked at Kromm.

  “We get out of here and we take Jonas with us. First we get away from this evil place, and then we find a way to help him,” Kromm said. “Tie up Jonas’s limbs in case he wakes up, but hurry. I don’t want to be trapped down here when that cloud disappears and more Blackhearts come back. This entire area is bound to be crawling with more.”

  Allindrian pulled out a thin white rope from a small pouch at her side. It was extremely frail looking and Fil looked at it skeptically.

  “He can break that easily,” Fil said.

  “Not this,” the Blade Singer replied, “It is elven rope. Even Kromm could not break it.”

  Fil did not look convinced but he said nothing as Allindrian quickly secured Jonas’s legs and arms. The yells and screams of the retreating men were muffled now as the dense choking fog pushed them farther away. As it turned out, most were not Blackhearts, but men who came to bet on the combatants. But the group had no idea how many Dykreel followers were about, so they quickly made haste.

  Kromm reached down and picked Jonas up as if he weighed nothing more than a young child. He flung Jonas’s limp form over his shoulder, turned to the rest of the group and shouted, “Let’s go!”

  They moved into the antechamber where the guards were still sleeping. The fog was still thick here, forcing them to stop momentarily.

  “Addalis, can you control the fog?” the king asked.

  “I can, where should I send it?” The wizard asked.

  There were four other passageways that entered the antechamber besides the one from which they had come. He could not send the fog down them all.

  “If you send the fog down the wrong one then more Blackhearts could emerge from the other tunnels and find us,” Fil reasoned.

  “We have no way of knowing where the vermin are,” Allindrian said, “I suggest you send it down the one we came from and we follow it. That way we know nothing will attack us from the front. We will watch the rear and hope that there is no pursuit. I fear that is the best we can hope for.”

  There was a moment of silence as everyone digested her words. Kromm directed his gaze at the wizard. “Do as she suggests,” he said.

  Addalis closed his eyes, concentrating on the magical connection with the fog, and used his hands to direct the green stinking mist down the corridor from which they had entered.

  Addalis followed the mist slowly into the tunnel, trailed by the rest of the group, their weapons drawn and their eyes looking back for any signs of pursuit. Luckily Allindrian’s light had not gone out. It still hovered above them, enabling them to see the way, but not qu
ite managing to alleviate the suffocating feeling of the dark corridor and the close proximity of the fog.

  Fil glanced nervously at Jonas’s unconscious form and then back into the darkness. He was worried for his friend. He had never seen Jonas in such a state, and the recent signs of torture on his body were impossible to miss. His mangled knees were grotesquely swollen, the color of overripe plums. How could he have stood on them? Fil wondered. Why was Jonas fighting against them? And it looked as if he had killed those men in the arena. It was clear to Fil that he had somehow been controlled and forced to do these things. He gripped his sword tighter as he tried to imagine what had happened to his friend. It would have had to be something truly terrible to have changed him so. No one deserved that kind of treatment, certainly not Jonas.

  They moved through the passageway and came to the opening that led up to the drainage room. Allindrian sent her light up through the opening, grateful that it looked clear.

  “Addalis, you come up last and then send the fog back here at the base of the ladder. That way no one can follow us,” Kromm ordered.

  “Yes, my King,” Addalis replied.

  “How will we get Jonas up?” Fil asked skeptically, looking up at the iron rungs embedded into the tunnel.

  “I will carry him,” Kromm said confidently. “Allindrian, you go first and I will follow. Then Fil, followed by Durgen, and finally Addalis will bring up the rear.”

  Fil didn’t say a word as he had long ago tossed out his doubt regarding the king’s prodigal strength. He watched the mighty king grip the first rung as he slowly, but seemingly effortlessly, followed Allindrian up the ladder. Fil and Durgen climbed up after him, aided by Allindrian’s light. But just as Fil was nearing the opening he heard the sudden sounds of battle above.

  Fil swore under his breath, quickly reaching up and grabbing the last rung, as he hoisted himself up through the narrow opening. The source of the din became obvious as his eyes quickly adjusted to the scene. At least a dozen Blackhearts were pouring into the chamber, their various weapons glittering from the light shed by their numerous torches.

  Allindrian and Kromm fought side by side frantically keeping the men at bay as Fil, Durgen, and Addalis lifted themselves up through the hole. Kromm had dropped Jonas to the floor and Fil sprang over his inert form to block the sword of a black garbed young man who was trying to flank Allindrian.

  The man’s young face reflected pure evil and bloodlust as he lunged at Fil, but his facial expression soon changed to one of pain and surprise as Fil quickly parried the strike, launching a gloved fist into the man’s jaw. The Blackheart’s eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor like a sack of bricks.

  The fighting was fierce, and although the Blackhearts threw themselves at the line the defenders had formed, trying desperately to break through and cut them to pieces, Kromm’s and Allindrian’s steel formed an iron tip to a wedge that could not be moved. One Blackheart after another fell to that wedge and the ones that attempted to get around it were met by Durgen’s axe and Fil’s sword.

  One young man managed to sneak in through a gap in the line, jabbing his long sword into Durgen’s stomach. His sword hit his breast plate, deflecting harmlessly to the side.

  “Dwarven steel, boy!” Durgen roared, choking up on his axe and ramming the tip of it into the Blackheart’s stomach. The steel point punctured the boy’s stomach and his eyes widened in surprise as Durgen quickly withdrew the point and rammed it again into the bottom of the boy’s jaw and up into his brain.

  Durgen flung the Blackheart away and engaged another. Kromm and Allindrian had pushed the wedge close to the opening of the room so only a few of the Blackhearts could get in at a time. They worked in perfect unison. Kromm’s great sword cut into them and forced the enemy back. Any that got too close were literally destroyed and tossed aside like ragdolls. The king’s great size and strength made him a monumental obstacle to overcome, and Allindrian, as she danced around him, used her singing blade like a surgeon, slicing into any men that made it past Kromm.

  Some of the Blackhearts were able to squeeze by them both, and again they were met by Durgen and Fil. Addalis stayed back with Jonas’s prone body in case any of them happened to get by. But none did, and soon Addalis was able to take his hand off his throwing knives and relax a little as the last of the Blackhearts were killed or ran away.

  Kromm turned to them all, his body splattered by enemy blood, his giant chest heaving as he breathed heavily. Allindrian wiped her thin blade on the edge of her cloak and Addalis couldn’t help but grin as he compared the two. Both were deadly, as deadly as any warriors he had ever seen, yet they were so different. The Blade Singer’s petite body looked frail standing next to the giant king, but Addalis knew that she was just as lethal, perhaps more so. Kromm’s eyes sparkled with adrenaline and yet Allindrian’s were calm and devoid of any perceptible emotion. If anything her eyes portrayed sadness, or empathy, he could not tell. The difference between the two great warriors was stark.

  Kromm moved towards the wizard and sheathed his blade on his back, hoisting Jonas’s body once again over his shoulder. “Let us go,” he said simply.

  Everyone moved hurriedly, stepping around the many dead bodies, hastily following Allindrian’s light through the dark tunnels. The continuing sounds of their pursuers kept them on the alert, but eventually the sounds became more distant. It became fairly obvious that the Blackhearts had had enough of their group for the night. But nonetheless, everyone moved with caution.

  They made their way outside without further incident. It was as if the Blackhearts had climbed back into their holes, for when they emerged outside there was no one about. The alley was just as empty as it was when they entered.

  “What should we do?” Fil asked.

  “Go back to the inner palace,” Kromm ordered.

  “I mean with Jonas,” Fil said, his anxiety obvious in his voice.

  “We must get him to a healer, to a temple; a high priest needs to look at him. His wounds are beyond my expertise or comprehension,” Allindrian said.

  “What about Falstis? We should take him there,” Addalis suggested.

  “Very well. Let’s take Jonas there. Hopefully the priest will know what to do,” Kromm decided.

  They made it to Ulren’s temple just as the sun was beginning to rise over the buildings. The temple was still full of wounded soldiers and busy priests, but as they arrived through the front entrance they were bombarded with help. Two priests in grey robes helped Jonas from Kromm’s back, laying him gently on the altar.

  Just as Jonas was set upon the table his eyes bolted open and his body convulsed. Then he screamed. It did not sound like a scream that any of them had heard before. It was more of a screeching, the sound of another world, a deafening noise, carrying with it a chill that ran down everyone’s spine.

  Everyone around Jonas stepped back as he howled, howls that created an atmosphere of intense fear, a feeling of terror that pulsed with every scream as he thrashed upon the table like a wounded animal. The evil fear emanating from Jonas spread to the bystanders, and everyone shrunk from the sound like frightened children.

  Jonas’s eyes rolled back, revealing only white as he foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog. His howls continued uncontrolled, and everyone near him had to put their hands to their ears to block out the pain caused by such horrific sounds.

  “What is happening?” Fil screamed. He stumbled backwards, shaking from pain and fear.

  No one replied as they were all equally tormented, hands to ears trying to block out the screams that continued to pour from Jonas. It was not a normal sound; it was something of magic, something dark and born from evil.

  Everyone was paralyzed with shock, everyone except Falstis, who ran through the maze of men carrying a shimmering white piece of cloth. As he got to Jonas he flung the white cloth over him, and the light material drifted out lazily, fluttering over his squirming body. As the translucent cloth touched Jonas, he went instan
tly still, the horrific sound disappearing. He made no move and his eyes closed completely.

  It took a few moments before everyone could clear their heads. Falstis was already at Jonas’s side holding onto one of his hands. His eyes were closed and he was silently moving his mouth in some sort of prayer.

  “What was that?” Addalis asked, his voice strained with shock.

  “I don’t know, but it carried the weight of the Forsworn,” Allindrian said, moving closer to Jonas. Everyone around her made the four pointed mark on their chests at the mention of the Forsworn.

  “That was not Jonas,” Falstis said, opening his eyes. “His body has been taken. An evil presence rests inside him and that was what reacted when his body was placed on Ulren’s altar.”

  “What did you put on him?” Kromm asked.

  “Ulren’s shield, a cloth blessed by Ulren himself,” Falstis replied.

  “Can it heal him?” Fil asked hopefully.

  “I don’t think so. What happened to him?” Falstis asked.

  Allindrian told the high priest what had happened and what they had seen. Just as she finished her tale, Falstis pulled back the clear cloth, inspecting Jonas’s wound on his chest. He then closely examined the symbol on his forehead.

  His face was a mask of concentration, but it was obvious to all watching that he was very troubled with what he saw. He slowly brought his right hand down to Jonas’s chest, gently laying his hand over the scar, then instantly withdrew it as if he had touched something red hot. The high priest’s eyes widened in fright.

  “Something has been placed in Jonas’s chest, something evil and extremely powerful. I have never felt such a strong presence of darkness. It can be none other than Dykreel’s symbol, magically cursed by the Master of Torments. It is beyond my skills.”