“That’s why I chose for you.” Rak spat. “You think too much.”
Bevan began to ask, “Bu—”
“Enough talk, Junior.” Sonja interrupted. She whipped the reigns once more, and her horse entered a full gallop. The others followed closely behind.
By the time they reached the base of the mountains, there was little sun left. The colours of the rocky outcrops were now a dark purple—almost black—and the sky was an ever darkening navy colour. The returning horse was trotting into sight, and the rider made no attempt to greet them on approach.
“Bernard?” Sonja called out to the man, her steed was now approaching at a more cautious speed. “Joust? Meatloaf?” Still no response. “Knoch?” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Rider?” Rak gave her an odd look at that.
The slayer was still slumped down, making no attempt to communicate. The horse edged closer, even it seemed impassive.
“Hey, you!” Bevan called out, racing his horse towards the man. “We’re talking to you!”
“Fuck!” Rak grunted, then chased after the young slayer.
Once Bevan was close, the rider pushed himself upright and cried, “There’s no point… we’re done for!”
“Fuck! Bernard, pull yourself together!” Rak snapped.
“There’s so many of them…” The lines across Bernard’s face shook and his lips trembled. Tears, snot, and drool merged together over his terrified, pale face. “They’ll end Holtur.”
“So many what, Bernard?” Sonja questioned the older man. The situation frightened her, she’d never seen the older slayer appear so broken.
“Men!” Bernard’s mouth fell open and he stared into the distance. After a long pause he fixed his gaze on the ground and continued, “Evil ones, they have Theodoric and Arnis. Said they’d take everyone… if we don’t give them what they want!”
“And what do they want?” Sonja asked calmly.
“That man, that evil man… he didn’t tell me. Said he didn’t want to give us a chance to hide it.” Bernard’s whole body began to tremble. “He said he would tell us when he arrives. He said if we refused, he’d kill all who oppose him. He said he’d do things, terrible things…” His voice was now a sob, and he finally lifted his eyes to meet with Sonja’s. “To the women… to the children.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Sonja said, sternly.
“There’s too many…” Bernard repeated.
“Come on, let’s get back to Holtur,” Sonja commanded, turning her steed around. “We don’t have long until it will be dark.” She started to move, but Bernard didn’t sense the urgency.
Rak’s dark, sunken eyes met with Sonja’s. She gave a nod, and he jumped off his horse, removed some rope from his mount, then approached Bernard. The shaken man began mumbling something about lack of hope. Rak responded by planting the butt of his crossbow into Bernard’s face, knocking him out cold. He then tied the unconscious man to the saddle with one rope. Then looped another through the horse’s reigns, so he could guide them from atop his own steed.
“By Ralumina!” Bevan cursed. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
“For his own good,” Rak grunted as he sat back in his own saddle. He made a couple of clicks with his tongue, and Bernard’s horse—suddenly aware of the situation—obeyed the command.
The four horses then entered a canter towards to Holtur. The dark sky was slowly turning to black, and they had to put as much distance between them and the mountains before the sun was completely gone.
They were about halfway back before the sun had completely fallen from the sky. The kuhvi could be heard mooing and lowing to the south, ushering the end of another sun. The moon was blocked by a thick band of cloud, creating a dull grey sky, while everything beneath remained blanketed in darkness. Rak took the lead, holding the lantern out in front of him. They had to slow down; the lantern generated light, but not enough for swift movement. If they weren’t careful, they could stumble into a stray marked kuhvi, a pack of wolves, or countless other creatures or horrors they’d much rather steer clear of.
As they continued, the clouds overhead shifted, and the light of first moon lit up the path ahead of them. A moment later, the upper clouds shifted once more, and the ground returned to darkness. Rak clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth, then veered off the path to the left.
“What is it?” Bevan asked.
“Shhh,” hushed Sonja.
Hooves in the night wouldn’t gain the attention of what skulked in the darkness, but the sound of humans talking did. A low growl left the road, heading for their position. Wolves.
Sonja and Rak freed their crossbows, then cranked a bolt into place as the horses cautiously continued. Bevan followed suit. A lone wolf stepped out in front of them, the flame of the lantern showing its snarling muzzle. The wolf was of soft grey colour, a decent size, but clearly too small to lead a pack. This was a diversion. Sonja and Rak both scanned the surroundings while Bevan aimed at the wolf ahead.
“Don’t shoot it!” Sonja announced. “Shoot and they’ll pounce! Kill the leader and they’ll flee!”
The upper clouds shifted again, and the moon lit up the ground. “Fuck!” Sonja swore upon seeing how many wolves were before them.
They were surrounded by a massive pack. The wolves must be out hunting whatever game they could find in preparation for the frozen suns. They were all similar in colour, with all sorts of varied sizes. Clearly they were preparing their attack. Who the leader was remained a mystery.
“Which one’s the leader?” Bevan asked in a panic.
The close wolf that first appeared to them then closed its jaws, it stared past them, and began to whimper. It turned around and began to race away with its tail between its legs. The rest of the pack also whimpered, then raced off in a similar fashion.
Bevan laughed, then taunted the retreating wolves, “Yeah! And don’t let me see you’re mangy faces again!”
“This isn’t good,” Sonja mumbled quietly. Her and Rak both looked behind them. In the distance, blue flames danced along the road they had previously been travelling. “Move!” Sonja screamed.
“Eeyaah!” Rak tugged hard on the rope attached to Bernard’s horse, forcing it into a gallop.
Even Bevan understood the urgency, chasing along before asking why. The horses were moving fast. If a stray kuhvi—or anything else—was on the road, they’d just have to try not to charge into it! Sonja turned her head back intermittently, the blue flames were catching up to them, faster than they were nearing Holtur. “Come on clouds!” Sonja yelled at the sky. “Fuck that moon away!”
They were less than a kilometre from the gates of Holtur now. Sonja knew if they would make it, they would be safe from their pursuers. Glancing back, the aggressors were now easily recognisable. The blue fire—that flickered from where their hands should be—lit up their bodies. Torn shreds of ragged clothing danced from their ethereal corpses. They didn’t walk, or run, these things floated across the land. Trail geists.
Sonja dug her heels deep into her steed’s ribs, but it was already going as fast as it could. Horses weren’t stupid and had no interest being near spirits or any kind of ethereal beings. Sonja knew the trail geists would be close now. She glanced back, seeing the blue light illuminating the skeletal face of the spirit just behind her. Its bony jaw was open wide, and it swiped at her with flaming fists. She fell from her steed, dodging the attack, and rolling across the gravel of the road.
Instinct kicked in and she unsheathed her claymore, pointing it at the trail geist that was moving in for the kill. But a physical blade posed no threat on an ethereal being. The horses had continued down the road, chased by more of the spirits. This one though, had slowed down, as if taunting her.
“Please,” Sonja said, then spat out some blood that had trickled into her mouth from graze across her lips. “Let us go, we’re slayers. We would have protected you if given the chance. If you would communicate with us, we would help you hunt down
your killers.”
The trail geist stalled for a moment as if pondering over Sonja’s words. It shook off its hesitation and launched itself at her. She closed her eyes, and brought her claymore across her body, her left hand bracing the blade for impact. But this horror wouldn’t strike her physically, it would strike directly into her soul.
Sonja wasn’t sure what this would feel like, but she prepared herself the best she could. It stalled, she felt nothing. She opened her eyes to discover the trail geist had disappeared. The ground was dark, and a glance to the sky revealed that first moon’s illumination had been held from the earth. “Thank you,” Sonja said to the clouds.
The cloud covering the moon wasn’t thick, and its light could return to the ground around her at any moment. Without hesitating, she sheathed her blade, and sprinted as fast as she could towards the Holtur gates.
It was dark and she could barely see anything. She just kept moving. Fast. If the clouds shifted from the moon and that thing got her, it was all over. A flickering flame, an orange one, raced towards her from Holtur.
It was Rak’s lantern. “Captain!” He reached his hand out for Sonja's, then pulled her atop his steed.
“Junior and Bernard?” Sonja asked, watching the cloud that stalled the moon’s light.
“Safe,” Rak responded.
“Good!” Sonja figured they would be, but she couldn’t help being concerned.
They were almost within the Holtur walls by the time the moon’s illumination became unobstructed again. Trail geists appeared behind them, wailing and crying as they chased after their living prey. Then suddenly, the horrors grew quiet. It was as if the geists could no longer see them. Rak’s steed had made it through the Holtur gates. Now that they were off the haunted road, the trail geists had no power over them.
She climbed off the steed and gave a smile upon seeing both her mare and Bevan, both perfectly safe. She looked out from the gate, back at the wandering spirits that patrolled the road.
“Bolt,” she said while deeply exhaling. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What’s that, Captain?” Rak looked at her from atop the stallion.
“Don’t let me travel that damned western road at first moon ever again!”
“Ha!” He gave a dry smirk. “Sure thing, Captain!”
Chapter 6: Disappearing Act
One month earlier…
Another sun of slaying was coming to an end. It hadn’t been too rough—predictable really—a pack of slater beasts, a single stone wyvern, and a few desperate grabion. If every sun could be this routine, Sonja and the slayers could lead an easy, comfortable life!
As the sun drifted lower, Sonja noticed a couple of groups headed towards Holtur. A single man on a steed to the west; Rigst, returning from another scout run along the western ranges. From the north a wagon made its way towards town, escorted by another scout on horseback. There was still enough sunlight to reflect the shiny smoothness of the man’s bald head, confirming that it was Knoch. Both still had a bit of distance to cover—between one and two kilometres each—but the horrors that lurked under the moon’s light still had a while before rising.
Sonja had been thinking about Rigst quite a lot while he had been on his most recent scout run. She had been pondering over his words after all that he said the moon they met Eltra. Would she be seen as weak if she became his woman? Would that change their working life? Perhaps this is the exact reason slayers had been exclusively men before herself.
Commander Maver had dismissed her for the sun. He could sense that her thoughts were elsewhere, there was also minimal chance of anything attacking Holtur this late in the sun. In fact, most of the slayers had already been relieved after the grabion were harvested.
Knowing he would arrive before the wagon, Sonja made her way to the stables to greet Rigst. Upon arrival, the first thing Sonja noticed was that he looked like shit. No one looked all that great after several suns of scouting, but he really looked to be in a bad way.
“Rider, are you alright?” Sonja asked, concerned.
Rigst coughed, then lethargically climbed from his saddle. “Fine,” he lied.
“Really?” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm. Hopefully no other slayers saw that.
“Yeah…” He coughed again. “Just a little cold, nothing to worry about.”
Sonja frowned. “I’m worried about you, Rider. Do you want me to walk you home, maybe cook you up something?” Despite being the best in her family, Sonja wasn’t that great of a cook. Not that it mattered, it wasn’t necessarily the food she was trying to tempt him with.
“I’ll be fine, Captain,” Rigst said with a weak shake of his head.
“Damn it Rider, you’re not fine!” Sonja yelled. “You look weak, slow, and you’re knocking back an offer to get me into your house? You were pitifully desperate when you got back from your last scouting mission!”
“It’s just a cold.” Rigst said, forcing a smile. “I appreciate your offer, but I just need rest.”
“Rest?” Sonja stood back, assessing the man. “Fine, I’ll take care of Zeidell for you. You report to the Commander, then get some rest.” She took the reins from Rigst.
“Yes,” Rigst said with a lazy nod. He really did look like he needed some rest. “Thank you.” He pulled a pack off the steed and began rummaging through it. After a few moments, he revealed a yellow fruit—a mountain lemon—and handed it to Sonja. The horse noticed and began to prance back and forth, exhaling deeply with excitement. “Squeeze this into his water trough, Zeidell deserves it.”
Sonja laughed. “Looks like he might be quite partial to these things!”
Rigst grinned, using too much energy to do so. “Yeah, he likes them alright. Oh, and I almost forgot…” He reached under his furs and revealed a light-green gem the size of his fist. “This is for you!”
“For me?” Sonja asked, shocked. Despite the lovely surprise, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be seen receiving gifts from him. “I don’t know if, you know, giving me gems is a good idea…”
“It’s from Modryklo Mountain,” Rigst said, pausing to cough. “I brought it back for you. If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to Ansgren or something. I am sure he’d appreciate it.”
“What? Oh, sorry…” Sonja stumbled over her words as Rigst forced the stone in her hand. “I mean, thank you.”
“My pleasure—” Rigst went to say more, but a cough stifled whatever was forming in his throat. He then sluggishly walked out of the stables. Shit, he looked bad. Hopefully he made it home without collapsing. Sonja made a mental note to check up on him later.
After removing the harness, saddle, extra packs, and weapons from Zeidell, Sonja went to cut the mountain lemon. The horse wasn’t undisciplined, far from it, but it lacked all control the moment she cut into the fruit. She was worried the damned thing might inhale the knife if she wasn’t careful! She held the struggling horse’s head away with one hand, whilst brutishly chopping the lemon with her other.
She threw the lemon into the water trough, and the horse took to it like it was filled with drought-breaking rain! Zeidell was an odd horse. He was nothing compared to Rigst’s older steed, Ferdell, which fell to the shroud about three years ago. But it was the first horse he had grown attached to since. The stallion’s hair was an off grey colour, covered in splotches of black and white. Its size was pretty average compared to the others in the stable. The thing had character though, there was no ignoring that!
By the time she had finished grooming Zeidell, the wagon—and Knoch—moved through the northern gate. At the front of the wagon, she saw a gruff looking man with long, dark hair and hazel eyes. He was dressed in furs and leathers, classic slayer attire. It was Ivan Griswald, finally back from his romp from up in Silverton.
She recognised another man at the front of the wagon. He had a thin chin, a black ponytail, and brown eyes. A long khaki coat, and a brown cloak draped over the left side of his body. Could that be? Vivian Patressi?
He looked very different to the man that wandered into Holtur—stalked by grabion—a year ago.
“Captain,” Knoch said from atop his steed.
“Good to see you Knoch,” Sonja called out, waving. She’d get a report after he took care of his horse. Shit, she took no report from Rigst! Well, technically she had been relieved for the sun. It was also apparent he was in desperate need of rest. Nothing to worry about, Rigst’s report could come the following sun.
Sonja continued walking up to the wagon. “It’s good to see you Ivan. I hope your journey to the north was fulfilling,” she said. Her eyes fixed on Vivian, who was staring right back at her. “And Vivian Patressi? You look… different!”
“Well, when we last spoke, I did just have my arm eaten by a bargetier!” Vivian gave a cheeky, sly grin. “We’ve brought you something, a present.”
“A present?”
Ivan snorted as he jumped off the wagon. “Around the back,” he said.
She followed them around to the rear of the wagon. A black cloth was draped over a large box. Vivian carefully grabbed the cloth, pulled it off, then announced, “Ta da!”
It wasn’t a box, it was a small prison cell. A disgruntled screech filled the air. Reptilian claws reached out of the cell towards them, assisted by gnashing jaws that summoned a horrifying medley of screeches and yelps.
“YAH!” Ivan yelled at the serpent, raising a fist. The creature scattered to the back of its cell.
Sonja raised a brow and asked, “So, those serpents?”
“Indeed,” Vivian said with a nod. “It’s called a kehrip. The war up north is raging. We were getting slaughtered at first, but Ivan was a big help. The kehrips were terrified of the man. Helped us a lot in those early suns. Now the Neidos silk armour has gone into mass production, and it’s all turning to our favour.”
The Holtur Curse (The Holtur Trilogy Book 2) Page 6