The Crimson Claymore

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  The terrain was flat; there was nothing to be seen to the northwest toward which they traveled except for the three Shayli peaks at the end of their perilous journey. Some of the cacti that they passed held beautiful flowers of orange, pink, and blue, but the wizard warned of their poisonous nature, and so many stayed away. Starlyn appeared mesmerized by the beauty of them, and stood for long moments admiring several of the cacti with flowers. Many more had barbs and needles that many of the men found quickly to be more than an inconvenience when tripping on them.

  In the distance, a mirage could be seen, black in color, almost appearing like smoke because as they got closer it seemed to disappear. Karceoles called them water mirages, claiming that the mind in such dry air without moisture craves water and creates an image in your mind to remind you of your dire need for the substance. Even as it would disappear as they neared it, the image continued to move farther out, creating a never-ending cycle.

  A large number of the men came close to exhaustion and nearly passed out as they traveled. Men surrounding them helped them out by giving them physical support, water from their skins, and attempts to cool them off by fanning them. Starlyn seemed the only one who handled the heat well. She’d only taken one sip of her water skin throughout the journey; being a kheshlar she was better built for weather conditions than humans. Exhaustion didn’t take her as it did the men, but from her appearance it could be deciphered that she was wearing out. The heat even tore at Karceoles and Sh’on, not as quickly as the humans, but not nearly as slowly as it tormented Starlyn.

  Once they passed the center point of the desert, most of the men had emptied their water skins. Karceoles bid them to stop as he and Sh’on walked ahead alone. The wizard swirled his zylek at the ground, and after a few minutes water appeared to come to the surface. Sh’on channeled his own green magic to steady the floating water and duplicate it. Men came rushing forward, overjoyed, as they filled their water skins. Both the mage and the wizard appeared drained, and so Searon bid Etherond take charge and lead the men as he stayed back with Karceoles and Sh’on.

  “Thank you,” Searon said.

  They only nodded back to him, most of their energy seemingly drained from them. Searon withdrew his water skin and gave them each a sip before getting between them and helping them forward and back into the ranks of men.

  Many grew anxious as they saw dozens of wandering scorpions crawling around and hiding behind rocks as they passed. Starlyn seemed the most uneasy at their appearance, still with the nacropis fresh on her mind. For many, it wasn’t the scorpions that made them uneasy, but the constant circle of vultures that soared in the sky above them. It seemed they were expecting a meal, a meal that they most likely were always sure to have.

  Without Searon’s confidence and leadership, they wouldn’t have continued through the desert at such a consistent speed. Breaks were seldom as they traveled through the desert, as he knew that if they stopped for too long, nobody would be able to get back up to their feet. They weren’t fast as they traveled, but they were consistent in pacing themselves. So long as they moved they created a false breeze across their face that would not be there had they remained motionless. Nothing helped their dehydration much, but so long as they rationed their water properly, and took small sips only every once in a while, they could survive.

  They took a break as the sun began to set. Searon kept everybody moving during the day because the heat was too much if they stayed still, and without shade they were better off moving than staying still. They couldn’t move fast, but neither could they stay and bake in the sun. The half moon was by far more welcoming to the men than the scorching rays of the sun. However, the atmosphere didn’t cool down as much as they desired, and while the night air felt crisp compared to the daylight, it was still dry and hot. The heat seemed to continue to rise from the ground where the sun had baked it into the dirt. They no longer felt the heat from above, and for that they were grateful. However, they weren’t grateful for long because soon all the heat left the rocks and the desert became bone-numbingly cold.

  Searon only let the men rest for less than half of the night with most of them taking turns on watch. Many were upset with him because they needed rest but quickly stifled themselves when Searon showed his authority and asked them if they’d rather travel longer in the sun or get closer by continuing through some of the night.

  As dawn approached, they were nearing the edge of the desert, and cacti became less prevalent and were replaced with sagebrush and palm trees. The weather was still dry and hot, but it wasn’t nearly as terrible as the center of the desert. Clouds scattered the sky instead of the brilliant blue brightness that the desert held. Still, most were bright white and fluffy without much precipitation. Most of the men were out of water and barely dragged on, but the sight was more welcoming than where they had just been, and so they pressed on with new motivation.

  As they continued on, the sun rose higher in the sky and hid behind clouds of gray rather than white. The sight was welcoming, and many prayed to the creator for rain. No longer was the desert flat terrain, but it now held a vast variety of rock formations. Some simple scattered rocks from large to small, but others appeared as arches and small mountains. Everybody’s feet began to ache from the rough ground, but it didn’t slow them much, as determination was their focus. On their right they noticed a small canyon that fell leagues into the ground. It was by far the most beautiful sight in the desert, but they dared not approach it, despite knowing that a river created it, because it was too far a climb for such a little pleasure.

  Nobody thought about the water that could be at the bottom of the canyon for long because soon it began to sprinkle, and everyone was overjoyed with mouths open and tongues sticking out. Cheers erupted through them, and they stopped in their tracks to try and catch some in their water skins. The sprinkle didn’t last long, as it turned into a downpour so ferocious that it pelted blisters underneath many of the men’s armor. Everyone held their water skins tight trying to get as much water as possible inside of them. Searon struggled, pushing them forward to keep pace through the rain when so many were overjoyed with its presence. He claimed that the rain would stretch on for a long while and that it would be better for them to be farther along before the heat came back.

  When the rain finally stopped, they were thankful for Searon’s rashness at pushing them forward. The heat amplified through the water when the clouds disappeared and felt even hotter than the central desert.

  It wasn’t until dusk of that night that they reached the end of the desert near the peak of the mountains. They rested for the night before beginning the long trek across the Shaylis in the morning. The pass didn’t look as bad as it had from a distance, and although the mountains were large, there seemed to be a pass between them that Karceoles directed them to. There was still a climb, but not as daunting as it was first made out to be. After nearly another half day, they climbed through the mountains and reached the other side that opened up to a valley.

  Small hills and mountains surrounded them in the valley on each side, but none as large or daunting as the ones they just crossed. The trip down was fast as gravity hit them with each step, and they welcomed the grass on the other side and the breeze from the rivers and lakes that could be felt with the new humidity. They smelled the scent of fish and wildlife. When the mountains were far behind and the grass had become thicker, they welcomed it under their feet for much-needed padding. A gentle valley breeze swept across them that brought tears of joy to the warriors’ eyes.

  They came to rest at the edge of the valley next to a small lake before it ended with a large mountain that they had to climb to be within draeyk territory. Wildlife roamed the valley, and many of the men, deprived and hungry began hunting them, and so Searon took Starlyn out of the camp to the edge of the western hills to find fruit. A tree seemed to call to them, holding golden-yellow apples with such a sweetness to them that they nearly melted in their mouths. Starlyn found a f
ew various vegetables growing through the valley, which they shared as they talked.

  “Will you be ready to face the draeyks tomorrow?” Searon asked.

  “Yes, though I do not feel right with this sword.”

  Searon looked at the new scabbard at her hip and bronze-hilted broadsword. The blade itself was of a fine human make and one of the better swords in his ranks of men, and yet it did look odd on her. He was most accustomed to seeing her with her hammer that had disappeared in the town with the necromancer. Instead, she carried the sword of the fallen Phoenix, whom they had found when they came back to the village with an army.

  “I’m sure Phoenix would have wanted you to have it.” He tried to reassure her with a comforting hand.

  “I know that…but it’s just wrong.”

  “Yes, I know, being with the sword brings back the memories of what happened that day.”

  “Yes,” Starlyn admitted, looking down to the half-eaten apple in her hand.

  “When you return to Sudegam, have another weapon made for yourself, and bury that one in Phoenix’s memory.”

  Starlyn smiled and brushed the hair from her eyes. “Perhaps I will.”

  They stayed a while longer, enjoying their meal and pleasant conversation about life, before heading back into the midst of camp. Searon had already bid the wizard to dispose of any bones before they arrived, and while the smell of cooked meat remained, nothing was to be seen. All the men respected Starlyn too much to flaunt about the meat they had enjoyed. Most of it had been packed up in animal hide and cloth in order to take with them, some packed in saddlebags and whatever else they could find. Searon gave Starlyn a hug goodnight, and she kissed him on the cheek before leaving off by herself to sleep away from the men.

  He continued to a small orange campfire and sat on a rock next to the wizard who pulled out two large steaks for him. Both were still warm and nearly melted in his mouth as he tore at them with bare hands and teeth. The vegetables and fruit filled him more than he expected, but he still devoured the desired meat.

  “Thanks,” Searon said.

  “Get some rest; I will take first watch,” Karceoles said.

  * * *

  When Searon awoke the next morning, everybody was packed and ready to go. His exhaustion was understandable, and everybody decided to let him sleep. Most knew that he continuously woke up through the night because of his nightmares and any sudden movement that he decided to check on, which was one of the disadvantages of being a leader.

  By midafternoon, they had reached the top and began the journey back down the small mountain. When they looked north toward the draeyk settlements, they found a strange sight. All seemed deserted. Searon looked questioning at the wizard, who shrugged nonchalantly. An eagle flew by, which Starlyn called to with a great whistle, and after it circled around them once, it came to her and landed on her outstretched hand.

  “Tell me, king of the sky, why are these settlements deserted; where are the creatures who inhabited them?” she whispered.

  The eagle nodded to the south before it leaped from her hand and took off again. Her eyes widened in dismay as she turned to listen to the bird whistle in the air. She shifted south and stared disbelievingly before turning to Searon with her mouth agape.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “They are heading south,” she said.

  “How many?”

  “Thousands, all of them from this region.”

  “Where are they heading?”

  Karceoles stepped up and stared into the south with repulsion. “Where else…Sudegam.”

  “That is not all,” Starlyn whispered.

  “What is it?” Searon asked.

  “When the eagle left, he told me that not only do these northern creatures head south, but the southern beasts do as well, and a new creature, a desert creature, marches with them as well.”

  “The daerions…and the nacropis? How many total?” Searon had the chills.

  “An eagle does not count the same as you and I, but if I were to guess I would say thirty thousand.”

  “So it is as I feared; the races have united,” Karceoles whispered.

  Etherond stepped up to Searon, hand gripped tightly on the hilt of his sword. “We are many, but even I don’t know if we are a match.”

  “We will stalk them to kheshlarn territory and attack from behind when they least expect it. Once they enter the land of kheshlars, they will have no choice but to fight them,” Karceoles said.

  “We won’t survive,” Etherond gasped.

  Karceoles turned to Starlyn. “Go, and warn the kheshlars about this.”

  Starlyn looked to Searon, who nodded, and she began running south at a speed none of the men knew she had. She took a path to avoid running into the army but she still seemed cautious about her every step. Tears masked her face of fear as she ran with all speed toward her homeland.

  “What if the kheshlars come too late when we attack them…or what if they don’t come at all?” Etherond asked.

  “That is a chance we are going to have to take. We can no longer win this war without the kheshlarn support. We can either defeat this common enemy with their aid, or die slowing them down and causing enough damage to make it easier for the kheshlars to be victorious. I suggest that you begin praying to your creator,” Karceoles said.

  Etherond gulped as he took one last look toward the south. Searon stepped beside him and placed his hand on his shoulder.

  “Will you join me in prayer?” Searon asked.

  Chapter 42

  Rest felt like something of the past as Searon pressed forward with his stallion between the vast hills heading south. He had to make sure his army stayed far behind him and kept quiet, a task that he presented to Etherond in hopes that his loud mouth could stay silent if for only a time. Only Karceoles kept pace with him on his own horse, and the two of them kept an eye on the steady army of draeyks and daerions that headed south. They would arrive at the forest soon, and it would prove even harder to keep an eye on them without being seen or losing them. Searon knew that he would have to place scouts through the forest, but he hoped that they would not be discovered, otherwise their surprise attack would be in vain.

  Through the midst of the army, there appeared to be a man in black robes mounted on a tall ebony stallion, zylek in hand, and barking orders to all the creatures surrounding him. There was a familiarity about him, and after a moment Searon recognized him as the same man from Legain. Before, he hadn’t noticed that he was a wizard because he was hiding in his hood without a zylek to be seen, but now his hood was down and dark-gray hair tangled down past his chest. In his hands he held a twisted wooden zylek warped in shadows to match his dark attire.

  Soon, the thin pine trees and autumn maples and oaks became thicker pine, and they knew they were drawing closer to the kheshlarn territory. With the abundant amount of large pine, it made it easier for them to hide in the shadows behind the army. It was not difficult to track them with how primitive they were. They were also able to resume conversations at a quiet whisper without fear of being overheard.

  “They have a wizard,” Searon said.

  “No follower of the dark is considered a wizard,” Karceoles said trotting next to him.

  “Dark wizard?” Searon asked.

  “Dare I call a kheshlar one of your kind, a dark human?”

  “I suppose you could, that is, if you really wanted to. I, however, find that fallen or wicked would fit nicer.”

  “Wicked?”

  Searon smirked, “Yeah, wicked wizard.”

  “If you want to act a fool, then yes you may call him that. However, a warlock would be what he truly is. A corrupted wizard that has fallen to the darker powers of magic where power means more to him than preservation of life.”

  “Warlock, got it.”

  “His name is Zergiel, once he was a guardian of peace – a part of the magic council that protected these lands,” Karceoles said.

  “There is a
council that protects Calthoria?”

  “Not anymore, it has long since disbanded. Long ago there were dark times where there were far more evil than mere draeyks and daerions tormenting the land. The last effective use of the council would have been the battle against the dragons. There are few of us left, Shronan and I are all that is left I’m afraid except for Zergiel. Most of the mages and wizards have since been lost or destroyed, and if there are any druids left they have not let themselves be known.”

  “Druids?”

  “They are more a legend now than a reality; once they roamed the land through the forests, protecting the wildlife with magic and being one with nature. This was back when kheshlars did not fear magic, but practiced it with druid help. Nature was more alive when they were about than ever.”

  “So what happened to Zergiel?” Searon asked.

  “He betrayed the guardians, killing many of them, craving power in the end before he disappeared.”

  Searon left the matter there as he saw that the topic didn’t seem to be one of the wizard’s favorites. The forest continued to get thicker around them as they entered in kheshlarn territory with trees so tall that they made all the men appear insignificant in comparison. He decided to wait for attack until they were far enough in the kheshlarn territory that would leave no choice but for the kheshlars to defend their land, but not too far in that harm would come to them. There was a long stretch of kheshlarn territory that many roamed before entering the capital of Sudegam.

  Nobody else knew when the ideal moment would be because even Searon hadn’t decided yet. Everyone followed his judgment and actions without question except for Leinard, who traveled close behind with a few mutters under his breath about what actions he would take that would be more productive. An opening presented itself a mile north of Sudegam when the army stopped to plot their attack rallying around the warlock. At that moment, Searon knew that it would have to be then or never to begin his attack, and it would be best to catch the dark force unaware.