The Return of Cathos (Tales of the Silver Sword Inn, Complete Collection One)

by Wilson Harp

  Zomora laughed and sat in a chair as Natab picked the rest of the gems up and returned them to the bag. “So, you do not try to cheat us, and yet you make sure we feel your inn is worth staying in. I like you, innkeeper. What is your name?”

  Croft felt his skin crawl as her voice fairly dripped with evil intent. “My name is Croft, mighty Diviner. How may I serve you?”

  “We will stay here tonight,” replied Natab. “Your inn is acceptable to us. We require food and for this room to be cleared of others.”

  “Of course, I’ll start having people leave. My serving girl and my cook live with me in the inn, and there is a merchant and his men that have taken rooms for the night. Will this be a problem?”

  Natab looked to Zomora who frowned back at him. After a few seconds she nodded and turned away.

  “It will be as you say innkeeper, but we wish to have no others in the house tonight. Those who have rooms will not sit with us or talk with us. Your serving girl is young and attractive. I shall wish to make use of her tonight,” said Natab.

  Croft thought about the axe over the bar. “She will not be here tonight. She is going to see her sister who is sick.”

  “The man lies to us, why do we stay here?” Kargan said as he scowled at Croft. His hands twitched as if he wanted to pull his swords.

  “Let him send her away. We have important things to attend to tonight,” Zomora said.

  “I will go make the arrangements for you now. We have beef stew and some roast pork. I will bring it.” Croft practically ran to the kitchen. He found his errand boy, Mikel, sitting on a barrel eating an apple while Magda and Cassie prepared the evening meal. He told Cassie to head into town and stay with a friend until the next morning. As she was packing a bag, he told Magda to stop fixing more food, as their evening crowd would be a grand total of three. She became curious as to the strangers and looked out of the kitchen door. Shaking her head, she told Croft what the tattoo on the big one’s face meant.

  “Reytrus? Are you sure that’s their tribe?” Croft asked her.

  Magda stopped stirring the stew and looked back at him.

  “I was just asking, but I’m sure you know if you recognized the tattoo on the big one’s face.”

  She went back to stirring, muttering words under her breath. Croft knew how she felt. The Reytrus tribe of the Padash were cannibals who still practiced the human sacrifice of their enemies. Their warriors and priests were among the most capable combatants among any people, and their Diviners were considered some of the most powerful users of magic, even among the most learned wizards. And there was a Reytrusian Battle Lord and a Reytrusian Diviner in his common room.

  He sent Mikel out to the front of the inn to sit and warn people away from trying to enter. He gave the boy a simple sign of warning to hang on the front door and told him to run home as soon as the sun started setting.

  Satisfied that his staff were taken care of, he went to speak with the merchant and his men. The two guards for the merchant encouraged him to leave, and Croft refunded all of their money plus a handful of silver for the inconvenience. The emerald he had stuffed down in the bottom of his coin purse would more than pay for a whole month of lost boarding; he just didn’t want word to get out that he had treated a guest poorly.

  After the merchant and his men left, Croft brought plate after plate of food to the Padashites, and the wine flowed freely from his cellar. As night began to fall, Croft started to light candles but was stopped by a single look from Natab.

  “We will be conducting a ceremony, innkeeper. It might be best for you and your cook to find your rooms early this evening and not come out,” said Zomora.

  Croft hastily agreed with her, and after finding that Magda had already closed and barred the door to her room, Croft sought his own bed. The next day he could deal with his ledgers and finish the chores; he just wanted morning to come and his guests to be on their way. He prayed that they would not stop at his inn again.

  The night passed slowly for Croft. He heard strange sounds and even screaming at times, but he dared not open his door. When he awoke the next morning, he slid the bolt from his door, being careful not to make a sound. He peered out into his common room and saw that the Padashites were gone. They had moved all of the tables and chairs over to one wall in a tumble, and there were scratches and burn marks on his floor where they had performed their evil ceremonies. He shook his head and decided he would call on Brother Hemal to come out and give a blessing to his inn later that day.

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  Natab shifted the heavy pack on his shoulders as he looked around at the near empty streets of Black Oak. He had woken before first light to find Zomora still in her trance sitting among her symbols and candles. By the time he had gathered his gear and woken Kargan, she was up and impatiently waiting for them by the door. They left the inn and traveled the road to Black Oak while the eastern sky was starting to brighten and change color. When they reached the western gate, the guards there were just opening the doors to allow traffic through. Several of the guardsmen had their hands on their swords as they eyed the travelers, but they made no move to bar the way.

  The streets of the town were barely awake, with only a few craftsmen and industrious goodwives taking advantage of the sleepy time of morning to prepare for the day. Most people gave them a few good glances, but none stopped to stare. Kargan sneered at everyone who dared so much as look at them, but Natab had traveled much as a youth and knew that the appearance of three Padashites would bring such attention from outsiders.

  The sun was barely peeking above the horizon when Natab, Zomora and Kargan passed through the east gate of Black Oak. It would be a sizable city back in the mountains, but here it was just another town near the wild lands. Zomora had consulted with several spirits the night before, and they had all confirmed that the place that they would find this great treasure was very near. One of the spirits had warned her that the place was full of death, but Zomora discounted that warning as a spirit who did not know of her power.

  Not that Natab would shrink from death. He was well past his fortieth year, and though he was still a great warrior, his position near the King’s seat at feasting was becoming further and further removed. Maybe if he could earn Zomora an item of great magical power, he would again see his fortunes rise. If he could not, then a glorious death in battle would earn him a seat among the warriors in the dark halls of Fenni.

  Natab looked over and saw Kargan touch the bag that hung at his waist again. He was making sure the map he had obtained was still there, like a girl nervous that a thief would take it from her pocket. Kargan was very good in a fight, but while his rage and courage were unmatched, he needed the burden of age to settle him down if he were to ever be marked as a Battle Lord.

  As they left the town, Zomora pointed across some farmland and said the spirits had told her there was a group of ruins several hours to the south. Natab had seen some old maps and knew that a great kingdom had once ruled these lands, but he did not remember anything else of use. The city of Balcchor was what they had been told they were looking for, but they had not mentioned the name to any outsider for fear they would be followed or ambushed upon arrival.

  The trio traveled down a road that meandered past a dozen farms before it turned to the east. Zomora did not turn along the road but set out into a large expanse of bogs and marshes. Trees with thin branches that swept to the ground were in abundance on small hills that covered as far as Natab could see. Natab loosened the straps of his sword and swung his shield onto his arm. He wasn’t sure how long the trek would be, but he was not going to be caught unaware in this wilderness.

  An hour past noon they spotted the ruins in the distance. Natab led them up a small hill and looked down upon the ruins. What appeared to be a large temple made of giant stone blocks sat near the edge of a lake. Other buildings were scattered around, but Zomora pointed right at the temple and smiled.

  “I can feel it from here.
The item is close now. The spirits have brought me here to find my destiny. Pull down the pack. I must retrieve what I will need for the ritual of binding.”

  Natab let down the pack and watched as Zomora pulled out the items she would need for the ritual. She laid out all of her items and pulled out three containers before packing the rest of the items back up. The small square white box contained the consecrated chalk she used to draw the symbols on the floor for all of her ceremonies and rituals. The long onyxwood box surprised Natab. He was sure it contained the inks and needles needed for tattooing. He wasn’t aware of why she would need it, but he wasn’t a Diviner and was unfamiliar with many of their rituals. The only time a warrior would see the needle from that box would be when he received the tattoo on his cheek that marked him a Battle Lord. The third item she carefully set in an open bag that was then placed on her belt. It was a red jar made of heavy, thick clay. In it was the heart of a Battle Lord. She had paid a great price to acquire it from another Diviner who had ritualistically carved it from a captured Battle Lord of some other tribe.

  Natab thought of the ritual he would be a part of later that day. When she drew her symbols, Zomora would remove the heart from the jar and take a bite of it, offering the rest to the spirits that attended her. She would then take the item of magic and hold it against her lips. Then he, as a Battle Lord, would speak the words of authority that would bind the item to her. No one else, as long as she lived, would be able to use the power of the item after the ceremony was done. Zomora had spent weeks making him repeat the mystic words over and over until he could say them without thought or hesitation.

  When she was satisfied with her preparations, she told Natab to bring the pack and started walking down the hill towards the ruined temple. Natab strapped the pack onto his back once again and followed the Diviner and Kargan into the ruins. He was surprised when she did not ascend the stairs to the temple but instead went wide around it.

  “The entry is not in the temple, but rather under it,” she answered when he asked. “At the back of the temple we will find where we need to go.”

  They picked their path through the broken stones and fallen structures as they slowly made their way to the back of the temple. As they were going through a narrow way between two fallen buildings, several lizardmen jumped out to bar their way. The lizardmen raised their spears as they hissed and charged forward.

  Natab’s sword cleared his scabbard and sliced deep into the head of one of the creatures in a single motion. Kargan snarled as he pulled both of his swords and chopped into several before they could thrust their spears at him. Within seconds, the foul creatures realized that they were overmatched. They tried to escape, but the warriors were not interested in driving off enemies—they killed their enemies. As the lizardmen turned to flee, they were cut down from behind. In less than a minute, all lizardmen that either warrior had seen lay dead among the debris of the narrow way.

  They turned back to Zomora just as three more of the foul monsters jumped at her from their hiding place. Her hand flashed out, and a handful of white powder formed a cloud that stopped the three scaly creatures as they ran into it. Zomora giggled like a girl as the three lizardmen stood like statues before her. She pulled a short, thin-bladed dagger from her belt and sauntered over to the magically restrained creatures. She merely nicked one on the arm with the blade and stared into its eyes as its life quickly faded. The poisoned blade was as much a symbol of a Diviner among the Padash people as were their facial tattoos and their great magical power. Natab had seen warhorses stagger and fall from such a small nick. Zomora loved to kill with her blade. She loved to watch the life leave the eyes of her victims. When she had finished with her fun, she came back to the warriors. The poisoned corpses of the lizardmen were still standing upright like grotesque carvings.

  “We are near the entrance, and the spirits with me are eager to present me with my prize,” she said as she walked past the men.

  “Tonight we will all have what the spirits have promised each of us,” said Kargan as he followed her.

  “Are you a prophet now?” asked Natab as he cleaned his sword. “Do the spirits speak to you?”

  ‘You may be a Battle Lord, Natab, but your life will not last long with mockery like that.” Kargan spoke to the large man with anger and bitterness in his voice. Natab simply ignored the threats from the impetuous warrior and walked over to where Zomora was studying the back of the temple wall.

  As Natab drew near, he noticed that runes had once been carved deep into this entire section of walls. Zomora was studying them carefully, tracing some with her fingers and avoiding others like they held poisonous snakes. When she had traced over the same one three times, she stepped back and spoke some arcane words. The sound of stone grating against stone was joined with a slight tremor of the ground. A large block that was part of the back wall of the temple sank into the earth revealing a passageway that sloped downward into the dark.

  Both warriors drew their weapons and started into the hallway.

  “We will need torches if we are to go further,” Kargan said.

  Zomora muttered a curse at Kargan and started an incantation. A few seconds later a dim amber glow settled over the small group.

  “That should let you see well enough,” she said. She motioned the men forward and followed a few paces behind.

  The passageway was coated in dirt and dust. Cobwebs sometimes clogged the entire hallway. Natab did not know how long this place had been undisturbed, but it seemed ancient. He did notice that none of the stones had shifted from their placement in the walls and that the floors were even and smooth. He suspected dwarven crafting, as the work they did with stone lasted centuries longer than the ruins of men.

  For close to ten minutes they descended down the long straight corridor. The floor leveled out, and they came to a widened area with passageways to the left and right. Without hesitating, Zomora pointed them to the right. Soon Natab had lost his way among the many passageways and turns. Stairs and sloping hallways created such a maze in his mind that there were times he was sure they were traveling in circles. They passed room after room off to the side of the corridors, but never went in. They continued to travel the long hallways, and Zomora never faltered or wavered in which turns to make.

  After several hours of wandering through the huge underground complex, Zomora finally stopped them as they came to a doorway on their right in the middle of a long corridor.

  “Ready yourselves for battle; the way is guarded,” she said.

  Natab and Kargan nodded at her and cautiously entered the doorway. The light from Zomora’s spell allowed them to see the entire room. It was a burial chamber with open alcoves containing the rotted skeletons of dozens of people lining the walls, and another corridor exited the room to their left. As they reached the middle of the chamber, a great sound of rustling and creaking assailed them from all directions.

  The skeletons in the chamber started moving from their appointed resting spots towards the Padashites. Some carried rusty weapons, but others just had their bony hands extended. Natab moved forward and started chopping at them with his sword. He heard the sound of Kargan engaging the undead guardians from behind him. For a few seconds it seemed as if he would be surrounded by the skeletal minions, but then he angled his shield out and with huge sweeping motions smashed two or three at a time into pieces. The flash of fire behind him assured him that Zomora was using her magical skills to defeat those guardians who came near her.

  When Natab had no more enemies to fight he turned back to the others. Kargan was dispatching the last two on his side of the room with no trouble, and Zomora was standing still among piles of ash littering the middle of the chamber.

  “These are the guardians of the treasure?” asked Natab.

  Zomora sniffed in derision at the shattered remains around her. “The ancients who were here deserve to have their tombs plundered if this is the best they can send to protect them.”

  Kar
gan insisted on taking time to plunder each of the burial alcoves. He found a few trinkets and coins that he pocketed as Natab and Zomora waited on him. When he was satisfied, Zomora pointed down the hallway leading out of the room.

  “It is that way. I can feel it calling to me,” she said as once again the warriors led the way. The hallway was short, maybe thirty feet, and ended in a small room less than ten feet on each side. The rotten remains of a bed and a wooden chest were on the floor while torn and shredded tapestries hung on the bare stone walls.

  “Is it in here?” asked Kargan tapping the collapsed chest with his foot.

  “Spirits attend me, show me why you have led me here,” intoned Zomora as she started to go into a trance.

  Low moaning rose up from around them, and Natab looked down the passageway that they had just come from. The moaning was not coming from that direction, and yet it was growing louder and angrier. A frigid blast enveloped Natab as Kargan screamed in horror pointing at the wall behind the large man. Natab turned to see the spirit of a woman coming through the wall. The ghost was in ornate robes and held a scepter in her hand. Natab felt his legs freeze. He knew that there was some unnatural force causing him to shake with fear. She floated quickly towards him, her face contorted in anger. Her voice echoed in his head with words he could not understand. He wished to flee but could not get his legs to work. In desperation he threw his shield between the ghost and himself. As her form touched his shield a thick layer of frost spread across it.

  Natab found himself falling backwards. As he fell, Zomora stepped forward to face the apparition. She had loosed a burst of fire at the ghost, which had driven it back, and was preparing another incantation. The spirit lashed out at the Diviner with the ghostly scepter in her hand, but the blow stopped short. Natab saw the apparition of several sets of clawed hands grab the ghostly woman. She looked around in a panic and seemed to be dragged away back through the wall by the hands of the spirits that Zomora compelled.