The Immortal Mystic (Book 5)

by Sam Ferguson

  Erik started in after the bearded man, but stopped when Jaleal nudged Erik in the side. Erik called out, “Can my friend come in as well?”

  The Immortal Mystic turned slowly and regarded Jaleal for a moment. The gnome who carries the shining spear, Aeolbani, and has helped to slay Tu’luh the Red, is most certainly welcome in the Hall of the Mystics.”

  Erik noticed Jaleal’s chest puff up a bit and smiled as the gnome strolled into the palace without hesitation. The young champion followed him inside. As they passed beyond the doorway, the doors swung shut, creating a vibration through the hallway that Erik could feel within his chest.

  From the inside, the glass was so thick that he could only see through one wall at a time, meaning that rooms deeper within the palace were hidden by a screen of beautiful green. There were no adornments on the walls, nor were there any lamps, torches, or candles. The palace itself seemed to radiate with its own light, and the glass was more than enough decoration for the palace.

  Erik realized then, that there was also no furniture in any of the chambers they passed by in the hallway. There were no tables, no chairs, or even rugs upon the floors. There weren’t even books like Erik had expected to find. The whole of the palace was empty.

  “Are there no others here?” Erik asked.

  The Immortal Mystic stopped and turned with a calm, soft smile upon his face. “Everything is as you see it,” he said in his booming voice. “As is the case with everything in the planes of existence.”

  Erik frowned. He wasn’t sure if the man was mocking him, or if he always talked that way. “May I ask another question?” Erik asked just as the Immortal Mystic started to walk again. The man turned around and waited patiently for Erik to ask. “Do you know of the four fireballs, err, the four horsemen said to destroy worlds?”

  The smile remained on the man’s face, but a flash of pain washed over the Immortal Mystic’s eyes. He offered a short nod. “I know of them.”

  “Can they be stopped?” Erik pressed.

  The man drew in a deep breath and paused for a long time before answering. “The silken tapestries of our fates are not yet spun in entirety. To know the future, one must look to what has occurred in ancient times and inspect the designs woven by fates past. Only then can we predict how the patterns might weave through the loom of our lives.”

  Erik looked to Jaleal. The gnome shrugged and remained tight-lipped.

  The Immortal Mystic stepped in close to Erik and bent lower toward his face. “I know you have many questions. We will work together to unravel the mysteries before us. Tonight you will sleep, in the morning we shall begin your training.”

  Erik squinted and his face skewed into a distasteful frown. “Training for what? I have to get back to Ten Forts, there are others depending on me.”

  The Immortal Mystic straightened up again, but he did not anger at Erik’s words. Instead, he continued to smile and watch Erik with those penetrating eyes of gold. After a moment he opened his mouth again. “Time is not the same here as in other places. Here, we learn to abide by higher principles and laws. If it is your desire to destroy Nagar’s Secret, and to learn how one might thwart the four horsemen, then you must train with me until you are ready. Then, once you are prepared, you will go through a final examination before you will be allowed to take the power with you.”

  Erik knit his brow. “What kind of examination?” he asked.

  The Immortal Mystic laughed. “The Champion of Truth must undertake the Exalted Test of Arophim if he is to be granted the full power he needs to overcome Nagar’s Secret.”

  “But who can give me the test?” Erik asked. “I thought only a dragon could administer that test.”

  “When you have completed your training, all shall be revealed to you,” the Immortal Mystic promised.

  “I completed my training already,” Erik said. “I prepared at Valtuu Temple to take the test. I was ready, except…” Erik let the sentence die in his throat.

  “Tu’luh deceived you,” the Immortal Mystic finished. The bearded man nodded. “When you are done with your final training, no mortal being on this plane or the plane of the dead will be able to deceive you. You will need to go through this before you will be ready for the Exalted Test of Arophim.” The man then leaned in close and added in a whisper, “Your body will also need preparation, for a Sahale must be able to access his true form if he is to have a hope of surviving the test. That will require time.”

  “I don’t have time,” Erik said with pleading eyes.

  The Immortal Mystic straightened back up and smiled warmly. “There is enough time, so long as you are the champion capable of destroying Nagar’s magic and Tu’luh.” Then he turned and motioned for them to follow him. “I will show you to your quarters. Sleep well, for tomorrow you begin a training that will test the very limits of your body and soul.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lepkin stepped out into the main courtyard and stopped for a moment to assess the situation. Mercer had said it was bad, but this was beyond what he expected. Flaming arrows streaked downward from the sky, Orcs had made it to the battlements and were starting to fight along the walls. The heavy gate shook and trembled. Soldiers ran to reinforce the gate, hollering for more archers to man the murder holes. A great column of smoke went up from the gatehouse. Lepkin knew it was on fire.

  He spied Lady Arkyn running along the walls, firing her arrows down to the field without the keep and also engaging directly with orcs that had ascended the ladders. Dwarves were pouring in from the east, as others came in from the west.

  “The eastern towers have fallen!” a dwarf called out as he and a squad of dwarves came into the courtyard upon their cavedogs. Mercer was in the middle of it all, shouting orders and directing soldiers to several places at once.

  Lepkin took another few steps out and stopped just in time to avoid catching a flaming arrow with his face. He watched the shaft bury itself in the dirt and a thin wisp of smoke snaked up.

  “What in the name of Hammenfein took you so long?!” Mercer shouted as he hustled toward Lepkin.

  “I had to prepare Dimwater to be transported north,” Lepkin answered.

  “Who did you have transport her, I need my men here!”

  Lepkin looked up to the wall and watched as Arkyn cut through another orc and sent a flurry of arrows out. “I asked some of the dwarves to take her. Al gave me permission to task some of his warriors if I needed to in his absence.”

  Mercer’s face reddened and he clenched a fist. It was obvious he was not happy about losing any warriors, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

  “Send Marlin to the surgeon,” Mercer said.

  Lepkin shook his head. “Marlin is with Dimwater. He swore to see her through her illness.”

  “Curses!” Mercer spat. “Have you left me anything at all?”

  “Hold my sword,” Lepkin said.

  Mercer nodded and took the weapon. “If ever there was a time for your wings, I need them now. Go and put that battering ram out of commission.”

  Lepkin launched up into the air and felt a rush of heat and pain as his body underwent the transformation. His bones lengthened and scales slid into place over his skin. Muscles grew and multiplied and a great pair of majestic wings stretched out from his body. He roared and sailed up over the wall as a chorus of cheers went up below him. He bathed the field in fire, ignoring the dying cries and screams of the orcish horde. He dropped down behind the ram and was about to strike at it when a pain ripped through his chest. It was unlike anything he had felt before. It was sharp and caused his muscles to convulse. He collapsed to his side and looked down at his body. He expected to see a great lance or spear, but there was nothing there.

  A group of orcs shouted out and sprinted toward him. Lepkin spewed flames at them, catching all but two nimble warriors who dodged the fire. They split and came at Lepkin from two different directions. Lepkin lashed out with his tail, crushing one of the orcs into the dust
as he struck out with his right foreleg and cut the other warrior down with his claws.

  He turned his attention back to the ram. He knew fire would not harm the contraption. It was made of Telarian steel. There was only one answer. Grab it and take it into the courtyard, away from the orcs.

  Another pain ripped through him. He roared out and collapsed onto the ground again. This time, the pain lingered in his chest as a terrible ache that forced him to take shallow breaths. He wasn’t sure what was happening. Slowly he struggled to push up to his feet. His vision was starting to blur. He felt a strange, vice-like pressure squeeze in the sides of his chest.

  All at once it was clear to him.

  The power of Nagar’s Secret had found him once more. It was reaching out to take him as it had at Valtuu Temple. He had hoped burying it deep in a well in Tualdern would have shielded him better, but his plan had failed. He had no choice. He had to return to his human form before the blight managed to seize his heart.

  A great flash of light erupted around him. His body reverted back, leaving him gasping for breath and physically taxed. He shook it off and moved for a nearby corpse. Lepkin stripped the leggings and boots free from the fallen orc.

  “Behind you!” Lady Arkyn shouted from above.

  Lepkin turned and saw a score of orcs jumping through the wall of flames he had set upon the field. They all saw him and charged angrily. A few arrows sailed down to take some of the warriors, but Lepkin knew he would have to resort to melee. He reached down and took a greatsword from a nearby orc. The metal was hot, and the wood from the handle had been charred, but the weapon was still sound.

  Lepkin took a few steps back, allowing Arkyn enough time to fire several more arrows before the orcs closed in on him.

  In came a swing from the right. Lepkin parried and sidestepped, avoiding a spear thrust from a second orc. Lepkin shot out with a quick stab. The blade pierced an orc’s shoulder, but didn’t inflict any serious damage. An axe came in from the left, Lepkin barely dodged it.

  An arrow sank deeply into an orc’s neck and as the warriors fell to the ground his body tripped two others. Lepkin seized the moment and thrust his blade through one of them, then drew his blade across the back of the other orc’s neck as he backpedaled to avoid the incoming onslaught of furious swords and spears.

  A black wave rolled around Lepkin, clashing and crashing into the orcs before him. It took a moment before Lepkin realized that it was the six other dragon slayers. They had emerged from the gate to help him.

  With their help, Lepkin finished off the remaining orcs from the attack and then they all turned toward the ram.

  “The dwarves are coming to help us push it inside,” Eriem said.

  Lepkin pointed to another group of orcs pushing through the fire. This time there were several warriors who were not fast enough to make it all the way through the fire. They fell to the ground and rolled about as their bodies continued to smoke and burn.

  “We have more berserkers,” Lepkin said. He glanced back and saw ten dwarves sprinting as best as their stubby legs would let them. “We need to buy the dwarves time to capture the ram.”

  The dragon slayers pulled their spears and javelins from the loops in their armor and launched them at the advancing wave of orcs. Seven missiles flew, five orcs fell. Seven more missiles took flight, but only three additional orcs dropped to the ground.

  “You should really stop making a habit of fighting without your clothes, Lepkin,” a soft voice called out. Lepkin turned to see Arkyn standing next to him.

  “You should be on the wall,” Lepkin chided.

  Arkyn raised the bow and let off a series of shots. The power of each arrow knocked its victim through the air several feet before dropping the body onto the ground.

  “I thought it would be fun to see the enemy up close.”

  “I’ve got them,” shouted someone from behind.

  Lepkin turned again and saw Peren sprinting toward them. His left hand held a small bag and he was grinning ear to ear. “I have cooked up something special for our friends.” He reached in and pulled a large, black beetle out from the bag. He held it up to Lepkin and winked. “This is going to be fun.” Peren whispered something and then threw the beetle out toward the oncoming orcs.

  A flash of lightning arced through the air and a high frequency shriek echoed out over the battlefield. The beetle was now easily four times the size of an ox. Over its head was a wide, thick horn. It stomped the dirt and then charged the orcs. They hacked and slashed at it, but their blades only bounced off of its armor. The beetle connected with five of the orcs, flipping its horn up as it did and flinging them all end over end to land well beyond the wall of flame.

  “How many more do you have?” Lepkin asked.

  Peren shook his head. “The rest are ants,” he said.

  “Ants?” Lepkin questioned.

  Peren nodded and smiled. You help the beetle.” The wizard turned and ran toward the dwarves, happily waving his bag at them and shouting something.

  “He is an odd one,” Lepkin said.

  “More incoming,” Eriem shouted. Lepkin turned and saw three goargs jumping through the flames. However, they had no idea the giant beetle was nearby. It charged them and pushed all of the goargs back into the flames.

  Still more orcs emerged from the fires, jumping and sprinting while covering their faces with their hands and arms. Once through the flames they drew their weapons and wasted no time advancing. The beetle managed to trample many of them, but the majority of this wave was headed straight for Lepkin and the others.

  Lepkin turned to holler a warning to the dwarves, however, as he looked back he saw a group of giant ants busily pushing the ram through the open gate, each seemingly listening to Peren as he made a series of clicks with his mouth and clapped his hands.

  “Odd, but effective,” Lady Arkyn said.

  The dwarves formed a shield wall between Lepkin and the gatehouse. He knew that once the ram was safely captured, the dwarves would give the order to retreat. He turned and prepared for the new wave of attackers.

  Lady Arkyn took aim and loosed her bow. Fftpf! An orc flipped over backward at the force of the impact. “I love this bow, by the way,” she told Lepkin.

  Two seconds later the two groups clashed. Steel rang out in the air and human and orc grunted and collided into each other. The berserkers were strong, and fast. For every swing of Lepkin’s sword, the foe before him was able to parry and counter attack. Lepkin jumped back from a straight thrust, and then came in with a diagonal feint as if he was going to chop. When the berserker lifted his weapon to block, Lepkin pulled the sword back, setting his left hand half-way up the blade to steady it as he snapped it down parallel to the ground. Then he stabbed forward at the orc’s belly.

  The orc turned sideways, allowing the blade to pass within half an inch of his stomach. The orc then clamped down with his gauntleted arms and seized Lepkin’s blade. Then he lunged forward in a devastating head-butt. Lepkin dropped down to his knees, avoiding the strike. He reached out and grabbed the orcs ankles and flipped the orc onto his back. The orc connected with the ground and then an arrow nailed him to the dirt.

  Lepkin looked up to see Arkyn shoot him a wink. “You’re welcome,” she said playfully.

  Lepkin snatched his sword back from the orc and moved on to the next. Soon the group was dealt with and the seven heroes ran back to rejoin with the dwarves.

  “We need to get inside,” Eriem shouted.

  They all turned and ran in through the gatehouse just in time to see Peren riding a large, black ant out to the field. Strapped to his back was Gorin’s warhammer.

  “Where are you going?” Lepkin shouted. “Come in, we are going to shut the gate!”

  Peren nodded. “Shut it, and bar it too. I am going to see if my new friends and I can topple those pesky ladders.”

  There was no time for a debate. Lepkin and the others had to jump aside as Peren led the group of galloping giant a
nts out through the gatehouse and to the field.

  Peren led the charge. Out in the field he saw the gargantuan beetle stomping and crushing orcs brave enough to run through the fire. The ant he was riding on clicked and screeched, apparently getting the others to follow it. A couple ants ran up to guard Peren from the enemy side while the rest formed a strong column and charged the first ladder.

  The black ant reached out with its massive mandible and snipped through the wooden ladder, as well as taking off an orc’s hand in the process. The ladders slapped against the stone and a moment later the other ants reached up to pull it down.

  Peren cackled maniacally as orcs rained down around them. Some of the ants turned to fight those that survived the fall without injury, but Peren urged his mount onward, clicking his tongue and manipulating his lips and throat to make the elongated squeals he needed in order to direct the ant where he wanted.

  Two more ladders collapsed and Peren could hear cheering upon the walls above. Arrows swiftly shot down at the orcs around him, and he was making good progress. That is, until enough orcs banded together to offer resistance to the ants. Then things slowed down considerably.

  Axes and spears cut one of the large ants down. It squealed and screamed horribly as its legs were hacked away from its body and orcs clambered over it. Peren looked back to call upon the beetle, but frowned when he saw that it too was being swarmed by orcs. From this distance, Peren couldn’t be sure that the beetle’s shell was holding against the onslaught.

  He knew what he had to do. There were three more ladders going along this side of the wall. The flames out in the field were beginning to die, and soon the barrier of fire would be gone altogether which would leave him exposed, and provide more than enough reinforcements to man the ladders again.

  He patted his black ant on the back of its head. It looked up to him, its mandible moving in and out eagerly. “For Gorin,” Peren said. He pulled Gorin’s warhammer from a sheath of cloth behind him. The weight of the weapon caused him to dip low, but he got his grip right soon and prepared himself. The ant let out a series of clicks and chirps. Peren nodded and stared ahead. He set his jaw and steeled his gaze.