Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1)

by Christopher Lee

  “Iason, calm yourself,” said Lugh. “You will be fine.”

  It was an idiotic statement. He would not be ok, and they all understood the fact. The boils popped shooting puss in every direction. The others moved away from him. Blood dripped from all of them, but it was pouring from him. The larvae that had fled their bodies inched their way towards Iason.

  “It burns, oh gods damn it burns,” he groaned.

  The majority of the others just stared in gross awe. They couldn’t look away as they devoured him. He dropped the sword, the pain must have been too great. His cries bounced off the cavern walls as the larvae at his body smacking and tearing the flesh from his bones. Samsara was certain she’d never heard a sound like it. Iason fell to the floor with a wet thud as his puss filled husk of a body disappeared into the gullets of the growing maggots. Two men vomited at the sight.

  Sreng had already begun to make his way up the passageway when Bres called for the rest of them.

  “We better keep moving,” he said with a somber tone.

  None of them had bothered to help the man. Neither Fae, nor Man had lifted a finger to help Iason. He died in agony. Sam wasn’t sure if there was anything she could have done to help him. There were hundreds if not thousands of bites on the man’s body. They were a minor irritation at first, but their outcome was so horrid she hoped that was the last they’d see of that pest.

  They were down another sword, and each of them had become weakened by the slog through the underground bog. The stench of the wet puss and blood was enough to turn the stomach. Sam felt the weight of the trial descending on her. They’d yet to face anything as horrible as she’d already imagined, and they’d lost five champions. The trial was tearing at their flesh, gnawing at their spirit and eating their resolve. If they were not careful, by the end they’d have nothing left with which to fight.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Bres, the crown Prince of Fomor

  In his realm there is no sleep,

  For venom drips from fangs in the deep,

  Fiends and devils in the Dragon Lord’s keep.

  Thus far Bres had watched four of the men under his presumed command die. What little advantage had existed for men to overcome the Fae had dwindled. The scales had evened out, and not a single Fae had perished. The Dweorgen Stoneskein was missing, but Bres doubted the caves had presented him with troubles he was not already familiar with. He could feel the resolve of the men dwindle. Iason’s death had drive the spear of fear deep within their hearts. It was a horrific sight. Bres had never seen the flesh liquify in his life. Despite his experience in battle, he was unprepared for what he’d seen. Two men had been burned to cinders, another had his eyes plucked out like flowers from a field, and the last had been eaten alive by an unknown festering pest.

  The passage had led them down, but now a steep climb up awaited them. Bres estimated that the entire group was tired by now. He felt as though at least a day and a half had passed. What awaited them next would be sure to claim more lives. Each time they felt comfortable, or lowered their guard this wretched ground cursed them.

  He wondered. What it would do next. Would it come for him?

  No not you Prince, you shall live. Live with guilt, with shame. Said a voice.

  He dared not to question if anyone had said it. Bres knew where the voice had come from. He’d been hearing the voice for sometime now. It laughed and applauded the death of Iason, and of Bres’s inability to save him. It had almost seemed elated. Bres was certain the others were hearing it too though he knew none would admit it. The first to admit they were hearing voices would show weakness. None could afford to show such faults.

  They pressed up the steep embankment. The stone was smooth and had little outcropping to grip and pull their way up. The giantess Skadi was the first to climb it. She’d brought with her a massive rope she’d dropped down to the others. He had to admit the Fae had been useful. Had it not been for Skadi, they would have died in their first test against the Kobolds. His men had fought valiantly too though Bres did not feel responsible for leading them. It was Lugh who had stopped them. His kinsman was more capable than he had assumed. He hoped that would continue to be true. Soon enough the division been the men and the Fae would pass beyond words and blades would cross. Of that he was certain.

  Bres climbed the rope ahead of Samsara. She’d been capable, as had all the Fae. He knew what he was to do, it stakes were too high. He worked through the possibilities. Though no one would know how they died, his conscience ached. He didn’t want to take their lives, yet none of them had fallen yet. Not even the gnome. He needed to thin their numbers and soon. His men were weakening. The largest problem had shown no signs of slowing down, despite the numerous gashes she received from the Kobold. He knew if the men were to claim the coveted prize at the end of the trials, she would need to be removed. The others could be dealt with, even the Centaur would not stand against all the men, not if Lugh stuck with him.

  Lugh had promised to stand with the side that had the better chance, however that promise was built on the premise that there were more men. Now the scales teetered at equal. They’d gotten the entire group minus himself and Samsara up the embankment. Each had made it with little difficulty. The passage was narrow, and so she couldn’t use her wings to fly up it. She needed the rope, and now she hung helplessly behind Bres. He might cut the rope and be done with her now, but he’d face the wrath of the Fae to be certain. Bres was not ready for the confrontation yet. He tried to think like Ubara.

  How would he dispose of her? He thought.

  He’d need to make it look like an accident. The rope was at its full length if it was cut there’d be no way for her to ascend. He needed the rope to break. Bres looked ahead. In front of his position the rope rested against a sharp jut in the rock. The previous climbers had not noticed it, the rope was gravely weakened. If Bres weakened it more, it might snap. He got closer. He’d need to reach the other end of the break or else he too would plummet. Once he reached it, Bres forced his foot to slip. His full weight yanked on the rope beneath the weakened spot.

  “Godsdamnit!” he cried as his armor clanged against the stone.

  “Are you alright?” yelled Lugh.

  Bres looked up, the rope was straining. His feigning fall had lowered him from where he could reach the other end. He had to hurry.

  “The rope is going to snap,” yelled Skadi.

  Bres climbed with all of his might.

  “Samsara hurry, it’s just above us!” he said.

  Bres reached outward and gripped the end above the breaking point. The rope snapped and popped breaking loose into a free fall. He watched as Samsara struggled to climb the rope before it snapped. She looked into his eyes and he watched as she fell into the pitch black below, without a scream. Bres turned back to the champions above.

  “Pull me up,” he cried.

  They hoisted him up with ease, their combined strength had him to the edge in no time.

  “Could you see her? Did she grab ahold of something?” yelled Chiron. “Samsara are you down there?”

  “I couldn’t I,” he paused “She didn’t even scream, I.”

  “Samsara,” yelled Lugh.

  The silence took its toll on them. Bres felt the tension. The Fae had yet to lose a champion. They crowded around the edge pressing the torch into the darkness hoping to catch a glimpse. The men could have cared less. They looked about the large opening they had ascended. Bres aimed to appear concerned. He looked over the edge with the Fae, displaying remorse.

  “Goddess, I. It’s my fault, I lost my footing.” he said.

  Chiron huffed, his nostrils snorting before he gripped Bres by the neck. “You careless fool! Why was she not ahead of you?”

  Bres choked, “I didn’t think.” He coughed.

  The men behind him drew their swords, and the Fae readied themselves in kind. This was precisely the opportunity he needed. A reason to cut them down. Bres tried to choke out the wor
d, “Ki…” but he was cut short the unbelievable sound of Samsara’s voice.

  “I’m alright,” she said from the darkness.

  Chiron released his grasp on Bres’s throat. Bres fell to the ground with a thud. He struggled to regain his breath. Lycaon and the Freemen helped him to his feet. He shrugged them off and hurried to the edge.

  “Where are you? How far did you fall?” said Skadi

  “I’m not sure, there was a ledge. I grabbed hold, it took me a second to pull myself up.” said Samsara.

  “Can you see the rope?” yelled Chiron.

  “I think so, it’ll be a tough climb, and I’ll have to jump, but I think I can get to it.” she said.

  “Just take your time,” Bres yelled. “We’ve got the rope, were going to get you out of this.”

  His plan had failed. He had to take another road, for now, if he assisted the Fae he might win trust he could later use against them. This was they would not believe he’d tried to kill her. The giantess had yet to fall and if Samsara was still alive, the numbers would not be enough to kill Skadi. Even though Samsara was shorter than Bres, standing at the height of a normal man, she was stronger than three of them combined. The wingers were known to be strong, in particular the Guardians and the Watchers.

  He heard the clattering of rocks falling as she climbed. She heaved, and sighed, groaning with each move. The climb was undoubtedly rough. A few minutes passed before he heard her yell a response. Then he saw her. She was still shrouded in shadow, the light could hardly reach her position. She was a full ten to fifteen feet lower than the rope was. It would take an impossible leap for her to reach the end of the rope. Skadi was already prone, holding the rope as low as her arms allowed. Bres watched. He could drive his sword into the back of the giantess now, that would kill both Skadi and the Seraeph, but his men were not in position, nor were the ready. Chiron would cut him in two before the men could set upon the Fae. He’d have to wait.

  He watched as she readied herself to make the leap. She was pressed against the stone upon a tiny ledge only big enough to hold her feet if she rotated them outward. She leaned against it hard and drove her heels into the stone. Samsara leaped from the ledge and sailed forward towards the rope. He wasn’t sure if she’d make it. Time slowed, as he watched. Her left hand missed the rope, and he heard the Fae gasp before her right hand gripped the tail end. They sighed.

  “I’ve got it, pull me up,” she said as she gripped the other end.

  Skadi yanked her up, and Bres pressed forward to offer Samsara a hand. She gripped his hand tight. He could feel the anger behind her grip. She was wise to what he had done though Bres was unsure why she didn’t out him.

  “I am so sorry, my carelessness nearly cost you your life,” he said to her.

  “It’s no matter, I am no worse for wear.” she said. “Not like they said this would be easy.” she joked. The men did not laugh, but the Fae allowed a moment to chuckle at her response.

  “Either way, I am glad you didn’t fall,” said Bres.

  She walked by him and examined the cavern. Her spurning him only made irritated Bres more. She’d defied the odds and survived what he was certain would deal a blow to the Fae. Bres kicked himself. He knew what the mission was, but now his conscience battled back. The war between Ubara and Balor raged in his own head. He’d nearly murdered her, for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t want her around as competition. It seemed ridiculous, but not for the stakes of the matter. A man had to be the one to claim the power of the Nemeton. There was no other way. Bres fortified his beliefs.

  You’re weak. You know what must be done, and yet you cannot bring yourself to do it. Strike them now, whilst they are unaware. If you do not do it soon, they will kill you all. Said the voice. It had shifted and now mimicked Ubara.

  Bres shook his head. The voice was starting to grate on his nerves. The rest of the group now readied themselves to resume the journey. Bres trotted to catch them. The cavern was wide, the ground was flat and smooth. For a minute Bres let the illusion of ease fall upon him. When it did, his boots ran across a curious sound. He had kicked something, and he wasn’t alone.

  “Look at your feet,” said Lugh.

  Bres peered downward and noticed that the ground was littered with bones of all manner and size. The great shroud of panic set in as Bres heard the tremble in Lycaon’s voice.

  “Bones,” he said. “There must be thousands of them. What lair is this?”

  The area stunk of feces and rot. It was a killing field, not only for meals past, but meals present. Whatever they had stumbled upon, there were fresh kills. Bres assumed that they’d come across the lair of the Kobolds they’d faced.

  “Could it be the Kobold?” said Samsara.

  The memory coursed through them all, Bres was certain of it.

  “Nay, they eat what they kill. They do it for sport. This is something else.” said Sreng.

  “Group up,” said Lugh. “Backs to each other, we need to move before whatever it is comes back.”

  The champions followed his suggestion, forming a circle. They moved into position and moved through the boneyard. All around them were the bones of creatures both large and small. Bres wondered how some of the bones were dragged down here. One skeleton dwarfed the giantess Skadi, the beast it belonged to was beyond enormous. The path they had taken would never have allowed for anything this large.

  “Skadi do you recognize these bones?” asked Lugh.

  “Those are the bones of a High Dragon,” she said.

  Her voice was calm. How could she be so calm? Bres was mystified. If something had killed a High Dragon here where they stood, they were as good as dead.

  “What manner of beast could slay a High Dragon?” whimpered the gnome.

  Skadi scoffed, “No single beast, this was the work of many. The work of...”

  “Wyvern!” cried Samsara.

  Bres looked away from the skeleton of the High Dragon. In every direction the serpentine fangs emerged in front of slanted eyes. They hissed and gnashed, lashing out towards the circle of champions. They closed in a tight formation and continued to move. The wyvern kept their distance, testing the circle for weakness.

  “Why do they not strike?” bellowed Sreng.

  “They are testing us. Looking for the weak link. Once they find it, they will split us up and pick us off one by one. We need to stand together,” said Skadi. “Do not break from the circle!”

  “Do they breathe fire?” called Lugh.

  “No, but they are venomous. One bite would send Chiron here to his grave. I would survive maybe three or four. The venom burns the skin. Those with fanned ears spit it. Guard your eyes at all costs.”

  The pressure was building as the two legged draconic serpents surged forward. One advanced towards Bres and he hacked at its head. The sword glanced off of the crown of its head. Bres caught his balance and thrust towards the underside of its neck, the tip of his sword met flesh and gashed the beast.

  “Their scales are armored,” Bres called out. “Strike the under bellies after they lunge. Give them warning. Take a pound of flesh per strike, let them know our blades draw their blood.”

  Bres knew well that hunting a predator required a certain mindset. The Fomorii hunted the great bears of the northern wood. He’d hunted them since he was ten years old. The only way to sunder one of the massive beasts was to draw enough blood to cause it to turn and flee. If it remained aggressive, it would eventually enter a state of mindlessness. You had to let the beast know you were willing to tear its flesh from its bone. That was done by carving it apart a bit at a time. This was no different. Though these beasts did not use their legs to claw at you, their fangs and necks were as powerful as bears long arms and claws.

  Another lunged at Bres and he slashed upward gashing through its throat and spraying its blue blood across his blade. The splattered reached his armor, and he roared. Lugh was shoulder to shoulder with Bres, and he followed suit. Lugh’s blade fou
nd the opening of its gaping mouth. The steel slide through the backside of its throat and panged against the underside of the scaled armor. It fell to the ground and the surrounding others devoured it whole. Bres watched them cannibalize their own.

  One by one the champion’s sword found their quarry striking precise blows against the vanguard of the wyvern. Their confidence built with each felled beast. Bres perceived victory nearing. He had already cut down five of them. They moved steadily through the field of bones if they survived the next few minutes they would reach a bottleneck. Bres looked at the opening in the cavern wall. He wasn’t sure if it was where they were supposed to go, but it was their best shot.

  “Keep pushing!” he called out.

  The front of the circle was head up by Chiron and Skadi. Their blade sundered wave upon wave of the beasts. In between them was Lycaon. Bres looked back and watched as he cowered beneath the courageous blades of the Fae. Men would never be respected so long as they showed such cowardice. As if to prove his point more, Lycaon tripped over a large bone that protruded. His fall knocked into the haunches of Chiron causing a gap in the circle. Two wyvern flooded inside their ranks, Lycaon on his back crept back into the hooves of Chiron, hiding underneath him. He leaned over to Lugh and pointed towards Lycaon. Lugh nodded and broke rank to the center of their formation. Bres took up the slack, but kept his eye on Lugh. Lugh charged the first, running towards it and sliding on his knees across the bones and stone. His blade slashed at the underbelly and the shrieking devil fell to the floor, spitting venom all over Lugh’s arm. Lugh cried out in pain as the venom stung him, his blade leaving his hand.

  “Lugh!” Bres called out. He could not break ranks the rear was nearly exposed without Lugh at his side. Sreng swung with unrestrained blows, and he did not hold a proper formation. Bres could not retreat or they’d lose their entire backside. The front of their formation continued to carve a path behind Skadi and Chiron’s noble crushing blows. The giantess slammed the blade into them with such force that the armor did little against her assault. This was not her first fight against the demons of the deep. The other wyvern circled Lugh who reached for his sword, but failed to grip its hilt. Bres looked around the circle for an advantage. He saw the Princess Neith, she had brought a bow and a quiver. She fought well with the sword, but the Blessed Daughter Shala was broad, she’d close the gap if Neith left. Bres made the call.