Hemlock And The Dread Sorceress (Book 3)

by B Throwsnaill

  She heard the man sobbing and could see that he knelt over the body of a woman. The body had been badly charred by fire, but the man embraced the remains.

  “Hilda…” he muttered then took notice of Hemlock.

  When he looked up, Hemlock saw that part of his scalp was devoid of hair and badly scarred by an old wound. She immediately recognized his broad features and bulky build. He was the ghost that helped her through the caves near the Sorceress’ stronghold. But he now appeared as flesh and blood.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Who are you?”

  “He’ll pay for this.” The man sobbed, his face red with tears. He looked more terrible than pitiful in his grief. His muscles quivered with rage as he extended and clenched his fist.

  Hemlock was still confused. “What happened here?”

  “A massacre,” the man managed.

  “Was she…”

  “My wife? Yes. My children are in the other room. Their throats were cut in their beds,” he said, choking back fresh tears.

  “My goodness! Who did this?”

  The man calmed down and rose, turning toward her. “DuLoc. His name is DuLoc. I won’t rest until he’s dead. I’ll help you, but my power is weak in the open air. Look for me in the deep rock.”

  The charred walls of the house started to fade, and the figure of the man faded with it. His eyes, aflame with hatred, grief and determination, were the last thing she saw.

  Her eyes bolted open, and the old, pockmarked ceiling of her mother’s common room was above her again, comforting in its familiarity in the early morning light. The strange dreams were over, but Hemlock felt they were more than mere flights of fancy.

  Was that the sea the Sorceress spoke of? And what of the ghost? Was he among the slain miners in the eastern mountains?

  Tored, already awake, was pacing outside the door where Falignus had been put to rest.

  “We shouldn’t have closed this door. I want to check on him,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” said Hemlock.

  Tored turned the crude handle and the door creaked as he opened it.

  “He’s in there,” said Tored. “He appears to still be asleep.”

  Hemlock sighed as an attractive scent wafted into the room. She recognized it immediately.

  “My mother is making her hazelnut cakes. Are you hungry?”

  “I am.”

  “Let’s leave him to rest, and get some food.”

  Hemlock led Tored outside to a back porch where her mother tended a crude stove made of stacked rocks and topped with an iron plate. Two dozen cakes baked in a compartment inside the stove on an iron grate. The smell of the baking and the gentle creak of the slowly rotating water wheel filled Hemlock with a profound feeling of peace.

  “Good morning, Mother,” said Hemlock, noting her mother looked far better groomed than when she had first seen her two days prior.

  “Good morning. So, you made it back. I trust you defeated her—the Sorceress?”

  “Yes. Tored and I did.”

  “Was it a simple matter for you, then? Did your powers end up being as formidable as you thought?”

  “Yes…and no. I should have heeded your warnings better. In the end, it was Tored who saved me.”

  “Hmmm. It’s no matter that you didn’t listen. Since when have you ever listened to me?”

  Hemlock started to protest, but as she took a moment to consider, she had to concede that her mother was probably right. Hemlock turned to find a nearby chair when her mother spoke again.

  “Listen, Hemlock. I’m sorry that I brought a man into our home that made you uncomfortable. I guess I was blinded by a desperate love and didn’t want to see the truth. It’s difficult to admit it, but I’m sorry.”

  Hemlock was suddenly uncomfortable. Her mother had rarely apologized to her before. She took a step toward her mother, and the two of them embraced with awkward, but heartfelt, emotion.

  Hemlock sniffled and choked back happy tears.

  “Where’s Mercuria?” she asked.

  “She went to check on the griffin—should be back soon. Cakes are almost ready,” said her mother, placing a tea pot on the iron plate.

  Hemlock turned to Tored. He was looking at the surrounding woods and seemed remarkably relaxed.

  “Tored, you’ve seem different since we got back—more at peace with yourself.”

  “Yes, I guess that’s true. I had an… experience… inside the Sorceress’ stronghold. It helped me to understand some things about myself. I think I’ve put some old demons to rest.”

  “Thank goodness. You haven’t been the best company lately,” said Hemlock, smiling.

  Tored didn’t respond, instead engaging her with a restrained smile. But a second later, it turned to a frown as the grating of a rusty hinge sounded from the door behind her.

  Hemlock turned and saw Mercuria leading Falignus onto the patio.

  “I found him clutching the mantle and trying to make his way out here,” said Mercuria, helping Falignus into a seat near the stove. The slender, pale wizard shielded his eyes from the low sun. When he sat, he turned his chair to face away from the light.

  “Thank you, young lady,” said Falignus. “I’m afraid my condition places me at a disadvantage and has impaired my manners. Thank you for welcoming me into your home,” he said to Hemlock’s mother.

  “You’re welcome, young wizard. My girls have told me a lot about you—some good and some bad. We prefer the former around here.”

  Falignus chuckled. “Well put. It’s a path I hope to follow in more ways than one,” he said, looking at Hemlock.

  She smiled then looked away, turning back to Tored.

  “Will you make him use Renevos’ device?” Tored asked Hemlock in a low voice as Falignus spoke with the two other women in a separate conversation.

  “I’ll ask him to, yes. I think he’ll agree. If he does, we’ll be lighter for Penelope to carry since Mercuria is staying. It could save us valuable time if Penelope can make the journey on less rest.”

  “Our course is set, then.”

  “Yes,” said Hemlock, looking at the aging warrior. A sudden idea came to her, then. “You could stay here—in Ogrun. You’re fond of Mercuria. You could be happy here. And you’ve done your part. Falignus can help me now.”

  Tored glanced at the woods again before answering. “A tempting offer, but I think I’ll stay the course. Besides, you’ll need me around when he goes mad again. You know he will, Hemlock. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “DuLoc has made sure we don’t have that. I don’t expect Falignus will have time to torment himself, provided he continues to help us. But, I’m glad you’re staying with me. Outside of my family and Merit, you’re the only true friend I have.”

  “This is my tribe now, and you are the head of it.”

  Mercuria approached them and held out a tray of steaming cakes. Hemlock and Tored shared a smile, and each removed a pastry from the tray. Then the five of them sat in the cool air of the morning and regarded one another as they ate. For Hemlock, it was a welcome respite before the beginning of what she judged would be her final quest. She regarded each of her companions—each was something of a quest seeker in their own right. Some now following her directly, and the others now dependent on her success.

  She’d always enjoyed eating the hazelnut cakes when she was a girl, but remembered they usually made her stomach feel queasy. That morning, for the first time, they went down without any discomfort.

  Afterward

  I hope you've enjoyed reading Book III! I've been asked by some readers where the series stands and what additional books are likely to appear. My estimate is that the current Hemlock story arc will conclude in either one full length book (>100K word count) or perhaps over two shorter volumes like Book III. It's always possible it could go longer, but I wouldn't expect it to be much longer than 150k words. Once this arc completes, there will be room for further tales set in this universe, but they would have to
be a bit...different.

  If you are looking for some other indie fantasy to tide you over until my next book (wink, wink), look no further than the following two series. The Bakkian Chronicles by Jeffrey M. Poole is a whimsical series of books about a contemporary couple who suddenly find themselves thrust into a fantasy world. It's a lighthearted read and reminds me a bit of Xanth without the puns. Demon Gates by Robert Day is a more traditional epic fantasy series that features great action sequences and an impressive sense of depth and character. It reminds me of a narrative account of the tales underpinning a superlative fantasy campaign setting--one that I wish was a role playing game I could get lost in.

  It would be remiss of me if I didn’t also mention the Indie Book Blog run by Scott Poe at http://indiebookblogger.blogspot.com/ . This is a great review site that specializes in reviewing Indie fantasy. Scott has been wonderfully supportive of many Indie fantasy authors—including myself. Please visit the site and become a member. You won’t regret it.

  I want to take a final moment to thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with me. Every reader that obtains a copy of one of my books is providing wind in my sails that helps to keep me writing. I only connect with readers over the internet and never see them face to face (except my beta readers). I probably need to start going to local conventions and doing book signings--but that's another story. In the meantime, the limited interactions I do have with readers online are very gratifying. But even if you never contact me, know that your purchase of my book(s) has directly contributed to keeping my fire burning. Thank you, and keep your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds!

  Learn more about the author at http://www.wiztower.com.

  Table of Contents

  Map of the City of San Cyra and surrounding regions

  What has gone before

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Afterward