Fiscal and Dent dismounted and stood before the gate, at a loss. Two of the slave-men pushed them aside and scaled the gate. In a moment the gate swung open.
Over the years Grandfather Lute had cast bells for people in various sizes, each good for a specific task. Recently, he had dug around in the workshop and found two bells that had been meant for a fire coach. The bells had proved too small for their intended purpose, but they were perfect for a Woodside Mill alarm system. With the help of Matt and Mark, Grandfather Lute hung one bell from the large oak that stood at the center of the gate driveway, between the forge and the stables. The second bell, loaded onto a wooden sled and about to be hitched to a horse by Harp and Shell, was to be hung in the Grotto. Grandfather Lute had devised this simple ring system for basic communication.
Mark was on the orchard ladder pruning away any small branches that would impede the bell. “I’ll check the clapper while I’m up here,” he called to the ground. He tilted the bell and inspected the connections. Movement caught his eye: the front gate was open, and horsemen and runners were streaming through. “Rude!” Mark shouted sliding down the ladder. “Rude and his men are back, four on horse, several on foot. They are all armed with swords and knives.”
“Where’s Bell?” Grandfather Lute cried.
“She and the twins took the ponies to the Grotto,” Shell said, “They were coming back for lunch. They could be on their way.”
Grandfather Lute grabbed the bell rope. “Go to the forge, and get your swords. The first signal will be to warn Bell and the twins.” They dashed to the forge as Grandfather Lute rapidly rang the bell, and then he ran for the forge door.
Matt, his leg nearly healed, stood by the door watching the invaders progress. “I don’t think they’re here to steal the coach,” he told Grandfather Lute. “They just passed the stable and most are coming in our direction.”
Grandfather Lute entered the forge and took up his sword. “We don’t know why they are here, but they are armed and aggressive. We are outnumbered, so our advantage is to keep to the trees. Avoid open areas where they may be able to gang up.
“Shell,” he added, “I want you to go and meet Bell and the twins. Use the back door.” Shell slipped out the rear door. “I’ll stall from here and try to find out what they want. All of you get ready to leave through the back. Protect yourselves and each other.”
Grandfather Lute opened the door and stepped out. Two of the slave-men had outpaced the others and ran straight for Grandfather Lute, swords held high. He could see something was not right with the attackers and abandoned the plan to talk. The families’ recent intensive sword and staff sessions had re-sharpened his years of scout training, and he felt a rush of exhilaration as he waited for the first man to commit.
The clumsy swing came in Grandfather Lute’s direction. He stepped under and stabbed the assailant in the shoulder, sending him to the ground. The second man charged. Grandfather Lute spun and crashed the butt of his sword into the jaw of the slave-man, who collapsed.
Quickly, Grandfather Lute stepped back to the door. More witless men were coming closer, and behind them were three riders: Rude and his thugs. A fourth rider, with three motionless men standing around him, stayed back. He held something in his hand and was looking behind the forge, up toward the ridge.
“The Grotto!” Grandfather Lute muttered. “Bell.” He rushed into the forge and called to Mark, Matt, and Harp. “Here they come. Make your way to the Grotto trail as best you can. Keep to the trees.”
The forge door crashed open, and the first slave attacker stumbled through, shoulder bloody and arm hanging useless. Grandfather Lute cut the man down with an overhand stroke. He turned and ran through the back door. He caught up with the others. “Something about these men is wrong,” he said as they crossed Mill Creek. “They seem like they are compelled, somehow forced to attack us. I’m afraid the only way to stop them is to kill them.”
Weirdie spurred his horse in a direct line with the Grotto, and the three witless men trudged behind. Once they had crossed Mill Creek, they encountered the brambles, which were thick between the trees. The blood rider ordered the men to hack the tangle with their swords. The slope grew steep and forced them back. Weirdie backed his horse into the creek and turned downstream, looking for a place to pass. The slave-men stumbled behind.
Rude, Fiscal, and Dent rode behind the witless men attacking the forge. Rude called, “They’re escaping to the trees!” But the slave-men still ran through the forge doorway. Rude kicked his horse and trotted around the forge building, “This way!” he cried. One by one the slave-men emerged from the back door of the forge and pursued Grandfather Lute and the boys.
Book, Page, and Bell darted across the meadow to the rock fall in the trail. Book scampered down with more daring than usual. Page was about to climb down when Shell called from further down the trail. “Bell! Stay there! Grandfather thinks they are headed for the Grotto.”
Book met Shell at the bottom of the boulders, and they climbed to the meadow. Shell caught her breath and said, “Rude and a bunch of men attacked the forge. One of the four riders is coming straight up the hill. He might make the Grotto before the others. So far everyone is unharmed and is coming up the trail behind me.”
Bell scanned the surroundings. There it was: the energy that was a blot on the One Wave! Soon the rider would make the meadow. Bell pointed and shouted, “Run!”
Book and Page dashed passed the entry boulders to the Grotto, Shell right behind. Bell stopped at the entry, and watched the rider come full gallop for the opening. Bell opened to the One Wave. Every probable outcome shimmered before her. She turned parallel to the on-rushing horse and caught the rider’s knee and ankle and flipped him from the saddle. The rider hit hard and slid on his chest.
Book and Page rushed toward the fallen rider. Weirdie sprung to his feet, pulled the glowing glob from his pocket, and quickly limped toward the Altar Stone.
Back on the hillside, Grandfather Lute thrust his sword deep into a witless man; his target fell back from the base of the boulders that led to the Grotto meadow. “We’ll make a stand here,” Grandfather Lute called. “Defend the way up the boulders. If we can’t climb, neither can they.”
Rude, Fiscal, and Dent, stayed back on the trail and watched the action from horseback. “I’m not going to climb up those rocks,” Rude declared, scratching. “I’ve got a better idea. While everybody is having such fun here— and who knows where Weirdie has got to—what say we go and steal us a fancy coach.” Fiscal and Dent laughed with appreciation. They turned and galloped down the trail to Woodside Mill.
In the Grotto, Book stabbed at the rider with his staff, but Weirdie grabbed the staff and yanked, hard. The staff flew out of Book’s hand. Weirdie shoved Book into a tree trunk, knocking the wind from him. The rider turned and crashed into Page sending him to the ground. Shell stabbed at Weirdie, piercing the back of his leg.
Weirdie scurried nearer the Altar Stone arm held out, the glob glowing in his hand.
Bell scooped up Book’s staff from the ground and hurled the pole like a spear. The staff smashed into Weirdie’s back knocking him to the ground in front of the Altar Stone. The glob flew from the blood rider’s hand and arched toward the top of the Altar Stone. Bell dove for the glob, Weridie reached up and grabbed her leg as she flew by, pulling her to the ground. Bell hit hard and slid into the base of the Altar Stone, forehead pressed against the cool granite. The glob hit top center of the Altar Stone and bounced straight up. Burning brightly the glob concussed in a blinding red light.
Noster’s hands tingled on the Butte Altar Stone. Greedily he sucked up the power generated by the near miss. Not what he wanted, but enough to elevate this next generation of blood riders, enough so that he could make more globs and attack the Altar Stones until he succeeded in subverting their power. He could feel Bell in contact with the Altar Stone. Noster drew on Bell’s life force trying to devour her through the power of the exploded glob.
Bell, dazed, forehead pressed against the base of the Altar Stone, could feel herself being seized by Noster from his Butte Altar Stone. Fear strangled her heart. She resisted the insidious draw as he pulled at her life energy. She could feel the hate dripping from this malignant being. She knew his hunger. Her anger flared and jolted Noster away, and as she pushed herself away from the Altar Stone, the contact with Noster was broken. Before her hovered a vision of a nut-brown man dressed in white. He beckoned and then the image faded. Bell struggled to her feet.
“Are you all right, Bell,” Shell asked, feeling the bump on Bell’s forehead.
“I’m fine. I was a little dizzy but that’s past. I saw Noster in the Butte. Noster is real. He has his own Altar Stone.” Bell trembled, her voice rose, “He tried to suck my life energy.” She stopped for a moment, remembering. “He is terrible. He wants to devour all life. Somehow we must stop him.”
Shell hugged her, “Breathe, Bell,” she said. “Long in. Long out.” Bell took some breaths and became calm.
“I think he’s dead,” Book said nudging the rider’s shoulder with his toe. “Dead,” Page declared kicking a lifeless foot.
Bell and Shell bent to examine the body. “I guess the explosion killed him. Is everyone all right?” Bell asked, all nodded. She continued, “This is a blood rider. Noster makes the blood riders. He needed the explosion to generate power from the Altar Stone to make these creatures deadlier. Now he can send more blood riders with globs to the Altar Stones. We must stop Noster. But first, let’s see if we can help Grandfather.”
They left the Grotto and crossed the meadow. Mark was climbing over the last rock into the meadow just as they arrived. “All the slave-men fell dead when something exploded. We are all safe. I’m going to have some bad bruises from the fight. Matt reopened the wound in his leg, and Harp has a cut on his upper arm—nothing serious.”
Bell ran to the edge of the boulders and looked over, “Where’s Grandfather? Is he all right?”
“We’re fine, Bell,” Grandfather Lute called and waved from the bottom of the climb. “We will be up shortly.”
The family entered the Grotto. Grandfather Lute inspected the blood rider’s body as Bell told what she knew from her contact with Noster.
“And just as Noster disappeared, a vision of an old man dressed in white looked right at me, and he waved his arm for me to come to him, but he faded away.”
They carried the blood rider out of the Grotto and lowered him down the rock climb and laid the body with the dead witless men. “Let’s go down and tend our wounds and eat before we deal with the bodies,” Grandfather Lute said. The family headed down the trail to Woodside Mill.
Tanan Shrine
Scary, though bound, had inched his way across the stone floor in the low light of the Tanan Shrine. Several sheepdog puppies had watched his progress but had stayed away. He knelt before the Altar Stone, forehead pressed against the south face of the stone cube. He was empty, he was lost. The essence of Noster that permeated his being was no more. He had no purpose, no drive. Only the sustaining vibration of the Altar Stone captivated him.
The glob exploded over the Grotto Altar Stone. The pulse blasted into Scary’s being. Noster flashed before him. But Noster held no power over him. The power came as shining light, a young woman, repelling Noster. Scary was filled with the radiance of her being. He sighed and fell back from the Altar Stone. He had a glimmer of a purpose. He strained and squirmed and broke his bonds. He had purpose. He must bring the lost glob to the Bright One. The blood rider glanced around and made his way out the entry panels and down the stairs to search for the lost glob. The puppies cautiously followed him to the panels and watched him go.
The Butte
Rah hacked at the tangle of sickly grass with his bush knife with Boh following cautiously in his footsteps. One wrong step would find her knee-deep in putrid mud. The two found that the stench of the swamp and the cloying oily gasses were sapping their strength. Finally, they were through. Rah pushed past the last tangle of grass to the edge of the water that surrounded the Butte, and Boh moved to his side. Together they studied the rock wall rising above them.
“There.” Rah pointed to an arched cave entrance more than halfway up the face. “I believe that is where we can gain entry to Noster’s realm. The opening looks deep, not just a fold in the cliff face.”
“Yes,” Boh said, “but the climb looks treacherous.”
The water of the swamp suddenly roiled and a sickly white giant slime worm shot toward them. Boh screamed and tried to step back, slipping and falling on her back. The creature’s gaping maw snapped at her foot. She struck its head with her bush knife, and the worm hissed and slipped back into the swamp.
The wounded worm was set on by others, and for a few minutes the swamp water roiled as the slime worms devoured injured one. Boh and Rah watched in stunned silence.
“Let’s get out of here while we can,” Boh said. Finding their horses, they rode back to the family villa dejected. An untried hole in the wall, a slippery climb, and hungry slime worms left little hope.
Tanan Shrine
After they buried the bodies of the slave-men and were on their way back to Tanan Shrine, Jana told Bill and Slim, “I believe you can go back to the City without worrying about being arrested.” She told them that the troopers doing the looting had been caught and disciplined. “I don’t think anyone is looking for you,” she said. “And if they are, as first scout, I can deter any action.”
“That is good news,” Bill said. “I would like to return Ronzal’s wagon to him. Slim and I would never have survived without such a sturdy rig. It’s not ours to keep, though.”
Trailing behind the three, Olive absently listened to their conversation. Her foot trod on a round object, and she stooped and picked up an oblong amber-colored stone about the size of a walnut from the grass.
“Look what I found,” she called. She held it up to the others. An inner light pulsed with a regular rhythm.
Olive passed the object to Big Red. “I bet this is what the slaved men were crawling all over looking for.”
“I think you are right,” Jana said taking it. Bill and Slim looked over her shoulder as she held the stone in her palm. “Master Akien will want to see this.” They proceeded to the Tanan Shrine. Several of the sheepdog puppies met them at the top of the steps and scampered around their feet. Olive bent and was swarmed with happy dogs.
Master Akien examined the stone. “My guess is some sort of power gem,” he said. “You say that the pulsing grew less frequent as you got closer to the Tanan Shrine. I believe the pulsing is related to the distance from the Altar Stone.” He passed the stone to Big Red.
Back at Woodside Mill, the glob concussed over the Grotto Altar Stone. Big Red yelped as the glob flared in her hand and she was suddenly present for Bell’s encounter with Noster. Big Red saw Noster’s malignant intentions, the purpose of the stone she held—a glob—and she saw the countless blood riders being fed power. She herself was being pulled in by Noster’s force. Bell’s light burst forth, freeing the scout from Noster’s grip and filling Big Red with wonder. Big Red dropped the glob and stumbled into a seat.
“What was that!? I saw a shining young woman,” Jana exclaimed.
“And a dire old man, bent on our destruction,” added Master Akien picking up the glob. “Noster of old I believe. I wonder if we just felt another one of these in use.”
Bill was kneeling next to Big Red, “Are you all right? That gem flared up. Are you burned?”
Big Red looked at her hands, “No, no burns. But I saw a vision of Bell and Noster.”
“Bell? Your young friend from Woodside Mill?” Jana asked. “Is she the shining young woman?” Big Red nodded.
“Noster?” Slim wondered, “My mother spoke of Noster’s return. One of the functions of the Blood Magic reading deck is to warn of Noster. What did you see?”
Big Red told of the threat of the blood riders and Noster�
�s intention to devour all life. “But Bell,” Big Red said enthusiastically, “Her radiant white light filled me and pulled me from Noster’s hold. I could feel her desire to stop Noster. I think this gem, that I now know is called a glob, should go to Bell at Woodside Mill. She has great natural talent using the One Wave. Somehow I feel she might be the key.”
Master Akien said, “Tonight is the closing of the Festival for the Living and the Dead. There is a memorial sculpture done by Cara Sagra being unveiled at the City Bay Wall. Tomorrow is election day. I understand if you wish to leave for Woodside Mill now, but a day or two wait may be acceptable.”
“I am to be present at the unveiling of the sculpture,” Jana mused.
“I haven’t even gotten to the City,” Big Red said with a laugh.
“Now that we can go back, Bill and I would like to go the festival,” Slim said, Bill smiling broadly.
“I don’t know what to do,” Olive said. “I guess I should go home to the Oak Vine Inn. Mom and Dad are probably worried.”
“You must come with us,” Jana said. Everyone chimed in with agreement.
“I will send word to your parents that you are well, that the first scout still needs your services,” Master Akien said, “and that you will return in a day or two with Jana and Big Red on their way to Woodside Mill.”
Olive beamed. “Oh, thank you!’
“Good,” Jana said. “Let’s go check on … ah, the blood rider.” As they walked Jana asked, “What should we do with the glob?”
Master Akien had placed the glob in a woven pouch with a shoulder strap. He held the bag out to Jana, “I think you should carry the glob with you. That way if you need to leave sooner, you will not have to come back here.”
Slim who had gone ahead, called back, “The blood rider is gone! His ropes are by the Altar Stone.”
The Dead Wind Page 19