Hemlock And The Dread Sorceress (Book 3)

by B Throwsnaill

  “Did you see the wyverns with her? Too many!” replied Tored.

  “I know—keep running! Maybe we can lose them once we reach the mountain!”

  They put another tower behind them before the cries of the wyverns and the screech of the great bat began to approach them.

  They kept under the porches where possible, but not every building had them.

  Hemlock looked behind her and realized they had been spotted. A horde of wyverns was descending directly toward them.

  The great bat soared overhead and the Sorceress still laughed atop her flying mount. A sheet of flame streaked from the sky to the middle of the street before them. A great explosion caused both her and Tored to lose their footing.

  Damn! Even a wizard would have been proud of that fire!

  She was on her feet and running in a flash, pulling Tored to his feet with an outstretched hand and her momentum. The excitement of the encounter was beginning to awaken her powers.

  A harsh woman’s voice rang out from above. “KILL THEM! Kill them, NOW!”

  The wyverns, spurred on by the urgings of the Sorceress, descended and attacked. Pale forks of lightning impacted the ground all around Hemlock and Tored, kicking up debris. Some of the strikes found their mark. While the bolts didn’t kill outright, they caused their muscles to lock and the runners risked losing their footing. Soon, both of them were littered with black burn marks all over their upper bodies.

  “If we fall, they will kill us!” Tored managed as he ran erratically, trying to make a harder target from the air.

  “If we stop, we are dead too!” cried Hemlock.

  Fortunately, the runners covered most of the central area of the City, which was dominated by the towers. Smaller buildings appeared before them, and also a large trench that stretched across their path and was bridged at every intersecting street.

  As they approached the nearest bridge, Hemlock heard a shout and saw motion from the trench. An arm was waving from the shadow of a culvert beneath one of the nearby bridges.

  “There!” shouted Hemlock, pointing to what she had seen.

  “It could be a trap!” said Tored.

  But Hemlock saw the face of the one that waved, and realized it was the little girl from the merchant shop.

  “It’s safe—come on!” she said, grabbing his hand and running toward the fence that separated the trench from the street. She vaulted it and landed hard on a stone incline, sliding down its face about twenty feet until she splashed into two feet of water at the bottom of the trench. Tored splashed beside her, and both of them charged for the cover of the culvert. The form of the girl was barely visible within.

  The water at their feet was alive with crackling energy from lightning strikes as they ran. Their locking muscles made both of them fall more than once as they covered the two score yards to the safety of the shadowy culvert.

  “Up here—out of the water!” shouted the young girl as they entered the tunnel. They leaped up onto a stone landing as the water crackled from another lightning strike.

  “I hope you have a plan—they are gathering outside!” said Tored to Hemlock.

  “Follow me!” said the little girl, now at the mouth of a dark passage, heading in the direction of the mountain. The unmistakable odor of excrement made it clear where they were going.

  The girl lit a torch as they all hurried along the dark tunnel, urged on by the searching cries of the wyverns behind them.

  Soon, the passage branched into three directions and the girl led them to the left. They walked along a raised section of stonework that formed a walkway extending from the wall for about a foot, until it fell off—sharply down—forming a channel beside the walkway for the sewage to flow.

  “How far will this take us?” asked Hemlock, her voice echoing.

  The girl turned and Hemlock had a chance to look her over. She appeared to be about ten years old. Her blonde hair was matted, and her face was dirty. Her tattered dress might have been white once, but was now an uneven brown. She was a pretty little thing, but her eyes darted to and fro. She carried herself with a gravity that suggested the fragile gaiety of youth had already been displaced by the harshness of necessity and suffering.

  “It will take us all the way to the river that cuts between the mountain and the town’s edge. That is where you want to go, right?” said the little girl.

  “What’s your name?” said Hemlock.

  “Esmeralda.”

  “Well, Esmeralda, I am Hemlock and this is Tored.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, but we must hurry.”

  “How did you know where we wanted to go?” asked Hemlock.

  “I heard you say you were here to help us. You want to fight the Sorceress, right?”

  “Yes. How did you get here so fast? I saw you in that store as we passed.”

  “I snuck into the sewers through the basement. The others are trying to watch after me now that my folks are gone, but they don’t understand. I have to help them.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Taken by the Sorceress for tonight’s games.”

  “Games?”

  “The Sorceress holds games in her stronghold when she grows bored. My parents were taken a few days ago.”

  “What kind of games?”

  “Fights. She makes people try to kill each other. Then, her monster kills the survivors.”

  “Her monster? What’s that?”

  “It’s like a shadow of a man. It drains people then the Sorceress eats what comes out of them.”

  “Did this shadow monster come recently?” asked Hemlock.

  “I think so. We didn’t know about it until right before the Sorceress attacked the town.”

  Hemlock looked at Tored. “Falignus,” she said.

  “If he’s become some type of wraith, what good will it do to bring him back?” said Tored.

  Hemlock shrugged.

  “Bring who back?” asked the little girl.

  “It’s a long story, Esmeralda, but we think a friend of ours may be your shadow monster. He’s not evil, but we think the Sorceress is using him. We’d like to free him and get rid of this Sorceress while we’re at it.”

  “And save my mom and dad?”

  Hemlock put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “Of course! We’ll save your mom and dad.”

  The little girl smiled. “I knew it! I knew there was something different about you. You’re not just wanderers looking for food.”

  “Alright, you just lead us to the river, and we’ll do the rest. But, do you know how to get to the stronghold?”

  “Of course, everyone knows that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, everyone in the town has to attend the games. There’s a big path.”

  “Interesting. But we should probably try to sneak up there.”

  Suddenly, there was a deep rumbling that shook the sewer.

  “What’s happening up there? Only a tower falling could disturb the earth like that,” said Tored.

  “The Sorceress must be mad about losing us. Will she destroy the entire town?” said Hemlock.

  Nobody answered.

  “We should get to the river,” said Tored.

  Hemlock became aware of a faint reading from her magic sense. The little girl was radiating magic.

  It’s odd that I didn’t detect it before.

  “Esmeralda, I sense something about you. Do you have magic?”

  “Not anymore. The Sorceress took our magic and now we can’t control our wyverns.”

  “So you used to be able to control the wyverns?”

  “Yes. We all have a wyvern. When kids are born here, a wyvern hatches at the same time. The two are bonded for life. But there haven’t been any kids born since she came. She burned the wyvern hatchery.”

  “She’ll pay for that!” said Hemlock.

  The girl turned and started walking. Hemlock didn’t want to upset the girl by asking more painful questions, but something wa
sn’t adding up.

  If the Sorceress has taken the people’s magic, why do I still detect magic in Esmeralda?

  Esmeralda led them through many twisting and turning passages. Soon, they became inured to the stench, the strange echoes of the water and their footsteps.

  The torch was close to burning out by the time they reached a long passage that ended with the glamour of daylight. They were all relieved there had been no more sounds of destruction from the city above. Although, they knew there was no guarantee the Sorceress wasn’t up to other less discernible mischief.

  They approached the opening slowly, letting their eyes adjust to the brightness.

  The water flowed into the sewers from the river, which was about thirty yards from bank to bank and moved with slow currents.

  “What do we do now?” asked Esmeralda.

  “We’d better do something quickly. If this is the only inlet to the sewers, the Sorceress is sure to have it watched soon enough,” said Tored.

  “Esmeralda, is there any place to take cover along the path to the stronghold?” asked Hemlock.

  The little girl’s brow furrowed for a moment then her eyes widened. “There are caves along the way. Maybe we could hide in there until nightfall,” she said.

  “How many caves are there?” asked Hemlock.

  “A lot—the mountain is full of them and they are like a maze. I’ve wanted to explore them, but mother…” The little girl’s lip trembled and she looked down.

  “Don’t worry about your mother, Esmeralda. I’ve faced tougher foes than this Sorceress and come out on top. Okay, here’s my plan. We climb the mountain along the path and look for a good, deep cave. Hopefully there are caverns and passages in there. If we get trapped, it’s going to be tough going. But once we find a good location, we should try to get spotted. That way, the Sorceress will spare Ogrun and look for us on the mountain.”

  Tored grunted agreement. “A decent plan provided the caves are interconnected,” he said.

  Hemlock knelt in front of Esmeralda. “I want you to go back to the city, now. Come to the stronghold tonight with the rest of the people. We’re going to get to the bottom of this shadow man, defeat the Sorceress and rescue your parents.”

  “You can really do that?”

  “You have to trust me. Go back and wait for tonight. Thank you very much for your help, Esmeralda.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for helping us.”

  “Go on, now,” said Hemlock.

  The girl waved and returned to the depths of the tunnel.

  “We were lucky to find her,” said Tored.

  “I guess so, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

  “You don’t?”

  “That felt like more than luck to me. I’m kind of getting used to the whole idea of destiny.”

  “You could look at it like that. We’d best get moving.”

  “Ready for a swim?”

  Fortunately for them, the water was only waist deep because it was icy cold. They sloshed forward in hurried silence for they feared being sighted in the water, but they were able to get across undetected.

  Hemlock looked back toward the towers at the center of Ogrun and saw wyverns flying over much of the town. There was no sign of the Sorceress or her giant bat.

  “There must be a spring nearby. This water is very cold and the air is much warmer,” said Tored.

  Hemlock barely heard him as they reached a well-trodden path that had to be the one described by Esmeralda. The path led up the face of the mountain in a series of long, lazy switchbacks. She quickly scanned for caves.

  They started to jog up the path, looking over their shoulders for signs of pursuit from Ogrun. None was forthcoming. Just when Hemlock started to think about lighting a fire to attract attention, a shrill cry rose from the city, and a wyvern wheeled around and flew toward them. Soon, a host of the others joined it.

  “They’ve seen us!” said Hemlock.

  She and Tored had just reached the first sharp turn up when they spotted the mouth of a cave about halfway along the face of the mountain—still several hundred yards away.

  “Run for it!” cried Hemlock, pointing toward the cave and looking to her left as a formation of wyverns began to stream toward them from the city.

  Hemlock felt desperate energy welling inside of her, and she knew she could easily outpace Tored. But she stayed just slightly in front of him, urging him on.

  Soon, the air was thick with the distinct odor produced by the wyvern’s lightning strikes. Hemlock and Tored were running irregularly, trying to maintain their footing as the paralyzing lightning burned them. Sand and dirt were flying everywhere, and some wyverns even dove toward the pair, attempting to rake them with their claws.

  Then, a large shadow appeared as something flew overhead, and maniacal laughter echoed over the mountainside.

  “Oh, what great sport! Kill them!” cried the Sorceress as her massive bat bore her in front of Hemlock and Tored. Then, the bat wheeled to the left.

  “Only a hundred yards!” shouted Hemlock, risking a glance backwards at Tored. His running was becoming labored and she feared he might stumble at any minute. She thought of using the commanding voice she had learned from the witches of Tanna Varra, but she feared revealing that power too soon and wasn’t sure it would work on the wyverns. And, even greater, was the fear of the persistent, dark visions that seemed to accompany the uses of her powers, and hinted at unforeseen consequences from their use.

  “Come on!” she cried as she slashed a sabre at a wyvern that tried to approach her from the left.

  The ensuing seconds passed with agonizing slowness. Hemlock reached the shelter of the cave and pulled Tored inside before the Sorceress was able to make another pass above them.

  Wyverns hovered at the entrance and filled the cave mouth with lightning. Ironically, that lit the way for Hemlock and Tored as they stumbled into the cave’s interior.

  Fortunately for them, the cave was deep, and there was a sharp bend around forty feet inside that provided cover from the unrelenting lightning strikes.

  Hemlock’s upper torso burned with pain as the new wounds made their presence felt. And Tored had fared worse than Hemlock. His cloak had been left in tatters by the crackling energy, and much of his exposed flesh was dark and charred.

  He doubled over in pain, but said nothing. Then, something on the cave floor caught his attention. He moved to a section of rock that was covered with a mossy substance. He retrieved some in his hands and spread it over his wounds. He beckoned to Hemlock to do the same.

  “I don’t know this world, but this is like Tanna Varran mihr moss. It will ease your burns,” he said.

  Hemlock took his advice, and soon her own pain was dramatically lessened.

  “Amazing,” she said as the din outside the cave started to taper off.

  The cave became darker, and soon she could only see the pale glowing of the mihr moss.

  “Do you still have the torch Esmeralda gave us?” asked Hemlock.

  “Yes,” said Tored, as a clinking sound near his belt revealed his retrieval of the flint and steel.

  There was a spark and the torch blazed to life, revealing a passage ahead of them. It appeared to be the remains of a once-larger cavern now consumed by a large piece of rock that had fallen from overhead. The resulting tunnel was long, straight and roughly triangular.

  “We’re fortunate this cave is deep,” said Tored.

  “Yes. I guess the Sorceress will be guarding at the entrance. Hopefully this will lead to another cave exit.”

  “Shhh!” hissed Tored, pointing with a trembling hand at a dim light coming from a nearby section of the cave wall.

  The pale green light intensified as they watched, and Hemlock marveled at Tored’s reaction. He was unmistakably frightened—and she had never seen him like this.

  “It is Umra Vyle,” he hissed.

  Hemlock tried to comfort him by grabbing his arm as something emerged from a previo
usly undetected vertical fissure in the rock. It was a ghostly figure—short and stocky with a barrel chest, massive biceps, and broad, determined features. There appeared to be an old wound on part of the spirit’s head.

  “It’s not Umra Vyle,” whispered Hemlock.

  “No, it’s not,” said Tored, sounding surprised and relieved.

  The spirit seemed to regard them for a few moments, and motioned for them to come forward. It slowly withdrew into the fissure, and its light faded then disappeared completely.

  “Now we have two ghosts?” said Hemlock.

  “This is very interesting,” said Tored. “That spirit wasn’t outwardly hostile. Its appearance could be a positive omen.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Hemlock, who had not felt any reaction that made her trust or fear the ghost of the stocky man.

  “I just feel it. While among my people, I witnessed a number of apparitions such as this. One often just feels whether they are dangerous or not. It is best to be wary when you experience fear, or simply feel nothing. I was…scared when it appeared, but then it set me at ease. I am inclined to follow it.”

  “Well it did show us that opening. We should look at it, I guess. But this other way is bigger. Should we just ignore it?”

  “It is impossible to know, yet the spirit has indicated that this is the way,” said Tored, pointing into the fissure. Their torchlight revealed a slender passage that was scarcely two feet at its widest—they would be forced to enter sideways, if they dared.

  “Looks like slow going,” said Hemlock.

  “My natural place is now behind you rather than in front, but I must counsel you to follow the spirit. An appearance such as this is no mere chance occurrence. My people believe that a spirit must be bound to a mortal soul in order to appear among the living. Umra Vyle’s spirit is bound to me, as you know. I can’t imagine that the ghost of this stout man—a former resident of the City by my guess—has any relation to me. And I have never heard of a person having two ghosts haunting them.”

  “So that leaves me, then?”

  “It would seem so, yes.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen that man before. He looked like a miner from the eastern mountains—I’ll grant you that. But I can’t see any connection to me.”