That was probably the truest statement she’d ever said to me. I pulled myself up, wiped the mud and blood from my face, and glared at the body of Jink. I felt no compassion for the thing that dwelt inside it. It was a heartless evil wearing Jink’s face.
Larque began to laugh, a deep insidious laugh that tore right through me. “You’re so puerile. You think you are a man, yet you stand there looking as though you’re about to cry like a baby because I am more powerful than you.”
I wanted to grab my sword and run her through. I wanted it so badly it was like honey upon my tongue. I wondered, if I did would Jink bleed, or would he flame and smoke as Larque had done?
Larque grabbed Snorts’ leader and headed off up the rise. She turned back once and called, “Are you coming, or are you simply going to stand there and cry?”
Her first death had been an accident. I was not a murderer, though I believed it wouldn’t take much of a push for me to become one. I clenched my fists and reluctantly followed, seething with every step.
Later in the day it began to rain. The terrain was utterly barren and lacked any shelter, so we returned to a small cave we’d come across earlier. I stood at the entrance, overlooking the valley below. Larque came to stand beside me and I cringed.
“It’s a lovely view,” she commented.
“You can see Avar from here.” The words spoken etched the reality of its distance deep upon my heart.
“There are many men and women in Avar?”
I nodded.
“And children?”
“Children, too.”
Larque sighed. “After we get the gold, we must go to Avar. There would be great pleasures to be had there. So many new games to play.”
Something deep within me shuddered as I imagined the horror of this witch among the inhabitants of Avar. This witch in the guise of a blacksmith. I could never let that happen. And at that moment, Larque gripped my arm so tightly the embedded nails drew blood as she yanked me out of the entrance, back into the cave.
“What?” I shrank back in alarm.
“Shhh.” She pointed to the gray sky, whispering, “It’s Seret and Ragg. Quick. We must hide.”
We hustled further inside and peered from the shadows to the gray sky above. I hoped Snorts would keep silent for once.
Seret was clearly visible, gliding through the rainy air with an eagle’s grace, performing his splendorous sky dance with ease, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is Ragg?” I wondered aloud.
Larque pointed, but I saw nothing except the gray of the sky. Then, I noticed what looked like the sky, but was not the sky—more a piece of the sky, careening across the sky.
“Is he invisible?” I whispered, peering up at the illusion.
“Not invisible. He’s a shape-changer.”
In horrified fascination, I watched the sky that wasn’t the sky. What kind of creature was Ragg? He looked like the bloody sky! I thought he was a dragon. Besides shape-changing, what other powers did he possess? And how was I supposed to fight a creature that could look like a part of the sky?
Ragg and Seret continued to swoop and glide and veer and dive in an endless procession.
“They are searching for us,” Larque whispered. “Seret will not betray us, but if Ragg should find us … .”
She did not finish and I did not press for an explanation. I did not need one.
Eventually the pair moved on and Larque breathed a sigh of relief. “Ragg would know of the conspiracy I’ve plotted with you for his gold. Seret can keep Ragg from invading his thoughts, but I cannot. Nor could you. Ragg would know and we would all die.”
It was the first time I had heard real fear in her voice. She was visibly shaken and had our situation not been so dire, I might have found some entertainment in that. The talisman glowed brightly on her chest. I wondered if it truly held any power over the dragon. It certainly had no power against Larque.
“What is Ragg’s weakness?” I asked.
She gave me a small, crooked smile. “Ragg has no weakness, except perhaps his lack of trust. But perhaps that’s a strength and not a weakness. Ragg is immense. Ragg … is infinite.”
I looked back out at the sky. I had truly seen him, yet all I had seen was the sky.
We remained in the cave the rest of that wet, gray day. I was chilled to the bone but we did without a fire, fearful of drawing Ragg’s attention to our presence. Later that night, Snorts began to grow restless. Outside the cave was the sudden flourish of wings. I sat bolt upright and gasped, “Ragg!”
Larque leapt up, giggling. “It’s only Seret, you fool. He’s come for me. You must stay inside. He wouldn’t welcome your presence.” She pointed at Snorts. “But can we give him your horse? He’s requested it.”
“It’s not a horse, and no.” I looked over at the poor, frightened animal that snorted his terror at the rear of the cave, wondering if it knew what the lion wanted of it.
“Perhaps later.” Larque gave a wicked smile, slinking out of the cave.
I quivered inside the shelter of the cave. How could I let her do this to Jink again? The lion’s snarls whipped through the night air and Snorts began to bray madly.
I retrieved my sword from where it rested against my breastplate. Clutching it close, I crept to the mouth of the cave and peered outside.
Jink knelt on the ground between the lion’s paws. The beast’s tongue lapped at his naked shoulders while Jink caressed the lion’s jaw.
Something inside me broke free. Nothing mattered anymore. I would rather see Jink dead than allow his continued abuse by this profane witch.
“No!” I cried, rushing forward. Jink sprang to his feet. Intending to run Jink through, I lunged. He skewed aside, but my blade grazed his chest. He screamed and clutched at the wound, then clamored for the cave.
The lion pounced.
Knocked to my knees, I held my sword firm as Seret crashed down upon me. My blade sank through his front shoulder, clean to the hilt. Seret skewed back. I wrenched the sword free, rolled, and scrambled back to my feet. The blade began to shimmer and smoke. In horror, I watched it disintegrate before my eyes, falling as ashes to the ground. Only the golden hilt survived, clutched useless in my hand.
Seret bounded, claws ripping stinging gashes into my skin, knocking me backwards. I dropped the useless hilt and attempted to scrabble back to my feet.
The lion snapped. I reeled away and struggled to dislodge the dirk from my belt, the gashes on my chest aflame.
Seret’s paw lashed out and rolled me aside and he leapt, pinning me to the ground.
I slashed at his face and foreleg with my dirk. Rows of sharp, yellow fangs, shimmering with drool, hovered in the maw above me.
So this is how it all ends. I believed this to be my final thought.
Then, above and behind the lion, was Jink, poised with his sword in both hands. With a lunatic scream, he thrust the blade down, deep into the lion’s back just above the wing-joints.
Seret spun and snapped, ripping Jink’s left arm off at the elbow. Jink howled and crumpled, blood spewing from the elbow like a fountain.
Seret spat out the severed arm and snapped again, crushing Jink’s torso into his monstrous jaws. Jink wailed and fought against the hold and Seret began shaking him like a rag. Then, loosening his bite, he let Jink fly.
With a crunching thuck, Jink’s body smashed against a tree and rolled to a bloody lump on the ground.
After a mournful caterwaul, Seret collapsed beside me. He shuddered but once, flapped his wings, and moved no more.
An eerie silence filled the night air. Numbly, I pulled myself to shaky feet and stood as if made of stone, taking in the scene about me. Seret was a massive, motionless heap. In the distance, the heap that was Jink began to moan and stir.
“Fane.” The whimper crept through the air.
I raced to him in horror.
“She’s gone, Fane.” His voice was faint and dusky. “I’m free.”
“She�
�s gone?” Of course she was gone. Larque would never have attacked Seret like that nor would Seret have attacked Larque. It was Jink who had saved me. But at what cost?
“Jink!” I dropped to my knees. “Wae, Jink.” He had banished her at last, had found the strength in his soul to set himself free and I knew that just as surely as I knew that I would lose him again.
I pulled his bleeding, mangled body against me, cradling him like a child. I stroked his head while the stump of his arm gushed blood, drenching us both with his warmth. His eyes fluttered in the moonlight. He tried to keep them focused. His voice was choked. “Take … take your talisman. Never part with it again. Promise … me.”
I could not control my tears and they burst from my eyes in a flood. “But it’s useless, Jink. It’s useless.”
“Promise me,” he insisted. “Ragg cannot touch …” He gurgled and retched bloody drool that stuck in his beard. “Ragg cannot touch you, or instigate your death … as long as you wear it. That much Seret revealed to the witch.”
His body trembled against me. How could I argue with him now? “I promise. I promise I will take it and I will wear it. Just don’t leave me, Jink. Don’t leave me now.”
“Take it, Fane. Please, take it now. Seret killed me, but he is an instrument of Ragg and … and I cannot die until you take it from me.”
If his words were true, how could I take it now? To do so would kill him for certain. I didn’t want him to die.
“Jink.” But my words refused to come. In my heart I knew he would never recover from these wounds. Too much damage had been done. Too much blood had been spilled. With or without the stone, he would die.
“I hurt. And I’m so bloody cold. Please. Release me.”
It took everything I had to bring my hand to the chain. The crystal shone brighter than ever and I paused when I finally touched it. I wanted to tell him what a good friend he’d been. I wanted to tell him so many things, but my voice was just a blithering snivel.
His hand came up and rested beside my own, weakly attempting to pull at the chain. Through my tears, I gently helped him ease it over his head.
He gasped and croaked. “It’s a bloody good day, Fane.” Then he was gone.
It seemed an eternity that I could not move. I simply held him and stared, refusing to believe. He had come back to me only to be taken away.
My wails broke the night silence and I clutched him as tightly as I could and wept as I had never wept before.
8
Skur
I lifted the talisman. It glittered like its own starlit sky in the light of the moon as it dangled from my fingers. Would it truly protect me from Ragg? It had done nothing for Jink. It had had no power over Larque and the atrocities she had inflicted upon us. It had had no power to stop Seret’s brutal attack. What power could this crystal possibly hold against Ragg, whom Larque had described as infinite—Ragg, who could appear as the sky?
I clutched it in my fist and gazed down at Jink. Would he still be alive if I hadn’t removed it? For the first time since we met Larque, he looked to be at peace.
“I wanted you to live forever. Instead, I led you to your death. Please, please forgive me.”
Could I ever forgive myself? My soul felt as empty as a field left fallow. Would it ever be green again?
When I slipped the talisman over my head, it felt cold against my chest. I would wear it. I had promised. At least, in this, I would not betray my friend.
I glared over at Seret’s body, a dark, golden lump in the night. Seret was dead. Jink was dead. I was alive. But what had become of Larque? She had deserted Jink at the end, but where had she gone? Had she leaped into Seret to die with him who loved her? Had her soul returned to Shadowland where she had been born? Or had she come into me?
With a shudder, I closed my eyes, trying to feel her presence, but I could feel nothing. Nothing but a distant rage, like a storm on the horizon that threatened to sweep down and engulf everything in its path. The storm was coming. I could feel it coming and there was no way I was going to avoid it.
My eyes opened, my gaze again locked onto the hulk of the lion. Jink’s dismembered arm lay near the beast’s side. As I looked down at Jink’s bloody, disemboweled body before me, the storm swept me into its furious tide.
I lunged for Seret, intent upon hacking him to bits—to revel in his blood as Larque had done with the hulg. I grabbed the hilt of Jink’s sword that still protruded from Seret’s back like a knob between the limp wings. With all the fury of the rage roiling inside, I yanked it out. The force knocked me back a few steps and I gaped in disillusionment at the useless hilt clutched within my hand. The blade had vanished, dissolved as completely as my own had been. Even my dirk had disappeared into dust.
Under the moonlight, Seret’s blood dribbled in slow pools onto the grass and the grass smoked and fizzled and I could almost hear it screaming as it disintegrated beneath the touch of the demon blood. I smashed the hilt of Jink’s sword against my wounded chest and backed slowly away. There would be no blood bath for me tonight.
The acid-like substance had left me without any weapons, but that fact did nothing to quell the storm still raging inside, and I began to shake, my breaths heavy and coarse.
“No! Damn you!” I screamed and raced back at the beast, flailing at him with my fists and boots. I pulled at the dead, limp wings, tore at his mane, kicked, punched, and pounded the corpse while screaming and cursing, until my strength was finally flung asunder and I collapsed into a panting heap upon the ground. I laid in the grass-tufted dirt for an eternity, drained and cleansed. The storm had passed.
With the hilt of Jink’s sword placed into his good hand, I buried him inside the cave.
“I will never forget you, my valiant friend. My brother.” The hushed darkness of the cave swallowed my words. “May the Keeper of Empyrean admit you passage with honor, for you have truly died a warrior.” I hung my head and the silence of the cave draped over me until its pressure became unbearable, driving me out.
I gazed up at the mist-enshrouded manse of Ragg above, then turned to look back down across the valley below at Avar. Were there more minions lurking further up Skur? Should I surrender and return to Avar?
Would it have been so bad to have joined the King’s Service? If I’d done what my father wished, I would never have been consumed with Fith’s desire for gold and Jink would still be alive. But it was the magic that called me. Any man could wield a sword. Very few could conjure. And I would remain an impotent wizard and never learn the powerful enchantments if Fith did not get his gold.
“What am I to do?” I looked back up at Skur. Up there lay the key to eternal life. If I lived long enough to reach it. Back at Avar, all that awaited me was the shame of defeat—Kael’s I told you so’s and my father’s disdain. Yet I was already defeated. I had nothing left but an ass.
I glanced back at the body of Seret, my hatred for the beast unbounded. All about the corpse the ground lay dead, poisoned by the beast’s blood. Would anything ever grow there again? It was doubtful. This entire bloody mountain was a noxious curse and I was more than ready to be done with it. I should have heeded the tales of legend.
Heading up Snorts, I began my trek back down Skur.
By the end of the following day a mist had settled in. A damp chill eked its way into my joints. There was no way I could start a fire in the mist—the moist frost clung to everything, so I huddled against a rock, drawing what little warmth I could from Snorts and my fur cloak, and passed the night, my sleep plagued with images of Seret, Larque, and Jink. When I awoke, the image of Jink was so strong, I almost swore I could see him slipping away into the mist that surrounded me.
Skur’s desolation was as absolute as my own, but I continued in my retreat and by the day’s end was able to start a tiny, smoky fire. I hovered over it, basking in its welcome warmth.
I had seen no sign of Ragg, but couldn’t be certain. Sometimes it felt like I was being watched, but could see nothi
ng but the gloom of Skur about me. Yet, as Ragg had so blended with the sky the first day I’d seen him, could he not be a part of the landscape about me? How could I know if he was not always watching me?
But it was ludicrous that he would quietly sit back and observe. More likely he would move in for a swift attack and it was that which scared me. I knew I would lose. My only hope was to avoid him, if possible. He knew I was here and he knew this mountain well. Did I dare hope to sneak through his backyard undetected? I had to hope. It was all I had left.
The reality of Skur began to wear on me—the perpetual cold, the loneliness, the gloom, compounded by the painful, pustular sores on my chest dealt me by that wretched lion. Sores that refused to respond to any of the various apothecaries still in my pouch.
I began to despair that I would ever see Avar again, or my father, or Kael. I began to despair that I would even live to see tomorrow, for I was gutfoundered. If I’d had any weapon, I could’ve eaten Snorts by now, for there was nothing edible anywhere. Skur was barren and lifeless. Before long, I feared it would leave me that way, too.
9
Reunion
I awoke in a fuzzy dawn staring up at Jink. He stood plainly above me and I knew this was no dream. Entrails protruded through red sheets of torn flesh upon his torso but though his wounds were fresh, they did not bleed. The fingers on his single remaining hand twitched at his side and his eyes were white. Solid white.
Horrified, I sprang to a sit, daring not take my eyes from him.
“Good day, Fane.” His voice was deep and hollow, not his voice at all.
I could not speak. He was dead! How could he be here? I knew—I think I knew he was dead.
He squatted so our eyes were on the same level. White eyes shimmered, then changed to their normal blue. “You’re surprised to see me, aren’t you?” His voice was lighter and more likely, though still not quite his.
Slowly, I nodded.
“Why did you leave me back there, Fane? Why did you leave me all alone, in that cold, dark cave?”
The Legacy of Skur: Volume One Page 10