Yetis charged from the forest, streaming out from behind trees, hundreds of them. Daniel had trouble believing his eyes. This was not just a few beasts; he had brought an entire colony down on the village. The front row was well within rang, why was Hough delaying the order to shoot?
“Launch volley!” Hough shouted, as though he was a veteran of battles. He may well have had such experience; the man did not speak much of his past.
Arrows flew up and rained down upon the yetis with deadly accuracy. Many of the beasts went down and were trampled under the feet of still more of the snarling creatures emerging from the forest. There seemed to be no end of them in sight.
“Launch volley!” Hough shouted. His voice sounding strained.
The situation seemed hopeless, causing even the stoutest hearted men on the barricade to sigh, yet the shafts flew in unison. The arrows sailed into the yetis, killing many, not a single archer had missed, and it was not enough. Daniel knew there were not enough arrows in Bashierwood to kill all of the shaggy monsters. There were plenty of arrows for hunting purposes, but no where near the supply needed to fend off what amounted to be an invasion. This was only the northern defense, how well were the south, east, and west defenders doing?
A scream came from behind. Daniel turned, knowing the voice intimately. Yetis had entered the village and were running everywhere. The southern archers had been overwhelmed and as quickly as that Bashierwood’s defenses had failed. He scanned the melee for Val; it was her screams that caught his attention. He spotted her near Chad Grening’s stable, knife in hand, stabbing at a vicious yeti.
Daniel aimed and let fly. The creature took the arrow in the heart and staggered forward, lashing out with its long sharp claws, catching Val across the stomach, and ripping through buckskin and flesh. She stared down with a look of horror at the gaping tear in her abdomen and then collapsed beside the dying yeti in a growing pool of blood.
“No!” Daniel screamed and hopped down from the wall of crates.
The village was being destroyed right before his eyes along with the people he loved most in the world. His secret was not worth keeping at this price. He had no choice but to fight like an Aakacarn. He concentrated on the closest yeti and thought of, Sparking the Flame. Blue beams shot from his eyes and struck the hairy monster. A tiny flame appeared on its chest and the creature roared and quickly beat out the small fire, no doubt wondering what had started it.
Sparking the Flame, would never do, something more effective was called for, like throwing a super hot streak of flame. Daniel felt an inspiration; random notes came together and formed a Melody. He played the new spell in his mind, knowing by instinct this was indeed a fire spell, and he could not explain how he came up with it if anyone asked? He pointed at an advancing yeti and focused the potential. Five blue beams shot from his hand and intersected a finger width away. Fire streaked toward the yeti, engulfing the vile beast in flames. It fell to the ground screaming in agony. He aimed at another yeti and concentrated. Again, flame shot forth and consumed the targeted creature.
Daniel moved quickly, burning every yeti in sight. It was in his power to save the people of Bashierwood and he was determined not to let them down. Smoke and the odor of burning flesh hung in the air like fog. He sent jets of flame right and left, careful to aim only at the monsters. Even still, many of the hairy creatures fell against buildings and their burning corpses caused the fire to spread. His mother and Lydia Polkat organized a fire brigade and were working to put out the flames.
He continued to kill the horrifying creatures. His thirst grew, but there was no time to stop for a drink. He hopped up on the barricade, half of which now lay in ruin because of the invading hordes. “Burn you blighted beasts!” he shouted, with a harshness in his voice that even surprised him, and then sent a jet of flame out across the field, killing perhaps scores of the things with the simple effort.
The battle dragged on and threatened to last into the afternoon. Finally, the yetis began to retreat into the woods. Daniel burned as many of them to ash as he could. The attack seemed to be over. He had a feeling they, or whoever sent them, were only regrouping and would be back soon enough. The battle was far from over. He turned and hopped from the wall of crates, landing with the grace of a cat.
The villagers, his friends, were staring at him as if he was one of the Condemned, but most seemed to be in varying states of shock and stood with their mouths wide open, his parents being in the last group. They probably had no idea he was capable of so much destruction and truthfully, neither had he until it became necessary. “I couldn’t let the yetis kill everyone,” he said, defensively, and the stood quietly. What more did they want from him?
Hough Bess stepped forward, taking charge of the awkward situation. “Darby, select archers to keep watch. We don’t want to be caught by surprise. Everybody else, help get the wounded to the inn,” he said, and then wiped away blood from where a yeti had scratched the right side of his face just before it perished in flames.
Daniel went over to help George Capri to the Polkat. The gaunt-faced man refused help. No one wanted to be near an Aakacarn. They behaved as if he was carrying a plague, even Tim, who looked wounded, emotionally, not physically.
Scores of people were injured in the attack, more than Daniel had realized during the course of battle. He refused to sit back and do nothing, too much had transpired. “I must do what I can,” he said, under his breath, full of determination, and then walked into the Polkat. He grabbed a water glass, filled it and drank it dry repeatedly until his thirst was quenched. Lydia broke the glass after he set it aside. He pretended the insult did not bother him.
Glancing around the room his gaze fell upon Val, who lay on a mat in the rear of the dining area. Taking a deep breath, thankful she was still alive, he decided to begin with her, and then walked over to examine the wounds; certain he had the power to save her.
“Stay away!” Gina shouted, tears streaming freely from her eyes. “She’s dying.”
Daniel ignored the protest and bent down while thinking of the spell, Mending the Scratch. After a closer look at the injuries, he realized the spell would not be strong enough. Her intestines were clearly visible and she had lost a large amount of blood. He could alter the Melody. No, that would cause the spell to collapse and probably kill her quicker. Quitting was out of the question, he had to find a Melody that would heal this kind of wound. An inspiration came into his consciousness, a healing spell, not one he remembered being taught, something new. The origin of the tune did not matter so long as it worked.
He played the new spell in his mind and the blue aura emanated from his hands and brightened. He knew everyone in the room could see the glow at this power level, but so what? His being an Aakacarn was hardly a secret anymore. He would heal the people who were injured and then let anyone who wanted to criticize him do so later.
Gina was so startled she stepped back and seemed to be at a loss as to what to do. She stood weeping for the most part.
Daniel touched the open wound. He had gutted more animals after a hunt than he cared to remember so seeing a person’s innards did not make him squeamish, although seeing Val in this condition wrenched at his heart. She moaned at his touch but did not regain consciousness. The damaged tissues began to glow and the injuries faded gradually away until he could see nothing but her perfectly shaped abdomen and belly button. This was likely the last time he would ever touch her, not that they had done more than hug and kiss before.
He stood and looked at Gina. “She will be weak for a few hours,” he told her, and then scanned the room for someone else to heal.
People stared at him dumbfounded, caught between emotions. Some of the people clearly needed his help and yet were on the brink of panic when he moved toward them. He drank another glass of water. Lydia wrote his name on it this time, rather than breaking it in front of him. She seemed to approve of his healing injuries. A crowd gathered around Val, who had regained consciousness, and
was turning red in the face at having everyone staring at her exposed abdomen. They wanted to see the miracle. Gina whispered something in her ear. Whatever she said brought a gush of tears from Val and both of them leveled horrified stares in Daniel’s direction. The crowd added their stares and all were scowling as if Balen Tamm was in their midst.
Tom Grening sat in the corner nursing a nasty side would. He made the sacrifice and allowed himself to be touched and healed by an Aakacarn, but not a word of thanks came from his mouth afterward.
Daniel proceeded to heal anyone who would let him touch them. He understood how they felt, not a one of them would have been injured at all if it had not been for his spell casting. He walked over to Warren Keber whose bloody left eye was lacerated and dangling on his cheek.
“Can you help me?” the old farmer asked. His thin graying hair hung in a frazzle about his head and dried blood stained his buckskins.
“I’ll try,” Daniel replied, feeling confident. He summoned the potential and then healed the eye completely, watching it retreat back into place, while ignoring, or trying to, the argument building between his parents and those folks who rightly blamed him for the disaster.
“Your son is an Aakacarn,” Orin said, never missing the chance to make accusations, especially when they were correct. “He brought the yetis down on us.”
“My son saved this village,” said the master carpenter.
You tell them dad.
Hough’s eyes darted toward the window and the smoke filled streets. “As mayor, I say Daniel can stay,” he said, and then sighed, turning his attention to Ronn. “How long have you known?”
The powerful master carpenter suddenly looked tired and worn out by the burden he had been carrying for days. “We’ve known since shortly after the blue light covered Bashierwood.”
Orin’s face turned bright red and he seemed on the verge of bursting a blood vessel. “You expect us to believe he discovered his ability then, and in only four days can know how to throw fire and heal people of wounds they should’ve died from? Don’t make me laugh. Every Aakacarn is a curse to decent folks. Disaster follows them like stink on a skunk.”
The troubling thing about the comparison was that it was true, disaster did follow Daniel. He let out a sigh while in the midst of healing Ken Turnir. The corpulent man had fallen from the southern barricade and broken his right leg. A splintered bone protruded up through the torn flesh.
Daniel pushed the bone back into place while casting the healing spell. The femur knitted perfectly. He caressed the ragged strips of flesh and damaged tissues glowed and regenerated instantly.
“Look, my son is healing the wounded. No one has died,” his mother said, although she was hardly unbiased and therefore extremely generous in her summation of the facts.
“He should be put out with the yetis,” said a familiar voice, newly entering the conversation. Each word stung like a hornet, coming from Gina, with Val nodding agreement beside her. There was only fear in the eyes of his former wife-to-be and not a trace of the love she once held for him.
Daniel swallowed hard, knowing all hope of ever having a life with her was gone, and the harper had the right of it. Accept what is and go on from there, his father often told him. The knowledge did not do a thing to ease the ache in his heart, but it would have to suffice.
“Yes, he brought the beasts, let him get rid of them,” Orin fumed, while pointing a shaky finger. “Then, not come back,” he added with sudden finality.
Hough balled up his fist and smacked the doorframe. “Man, have you lost all your senses? We can’t send the boy out there!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Tim stood quietly near the kitchen door with a look of betrayal on his face. He was not the only one; most of the people had similar expressions on their faces, even those who had been healed.
Henri Polkat walked out from the back room. His buckskins were torn, exposing a large gash across his chest. The injury could not have been deep or the blood would not have clotted over the wound without stitches. Daniel reached his hand toward the innkeeper; Mending the Scratch would be suitable in this case.
“Don’t touch me!” Henri shouted, and jumped back as if trying to avoid a snake strike.
Who could blame the man? Daniel stepped away. All the misery around him was indeed his fault. The decent folks living on Tannakonna did not deserve to suffer, yet to despise him for casting the spell was like hating an eagle for growing feathers and learning to soar.
“So, he made the strange blue light,” Chad said. “At least that’s one mystery solved.”
Val made her way to Daniel and he felt a glimmer of hope, maybe she realized he could not help being what he was. “Suppose we had gone into the cabin,” she began, and stopped. “I hate you,” she finished in a tight voice, and then burst into tears and ran to the farthest corner.
“I say we deal with the immediate threat and then send the boy packing,” Donald Laird stated flatly. His thick dark hair hung in curls down to the collar of his green-dyed buckskins. His light brown eyes turned to scanning the floor. “I don’t want his death on my conscience,” he added, while stroking his thin mustache.
Enough! Daniel stormed over to the bickering group. He would decide his own fate, not them. Orin opened his mouth but was not given a chance to speak. “First of all, I’m not a boy. Secondly, I’m an Aakacarn and nothing any of us can do will change that. Finally, I’m going out to fight the yetis on my own.”
“No!” his mother cried.
He reached over and healed the gash on Hough’s face. The mayor smiled and his eyebrows arched upward, for the healing or the words, only the elected leader of Bashierwood knew.
Daniel eyed the people around him. Their facial expressions betrayed a wide range of emotions, mostly fear and bitterness mixed with betrayal, not in everyone but definitely in the vast majority. “Orin is right. The yetis are here because of me,” Terroll was right. “I’ll lead the foul beasts away from the village,” he said, evenly and with deep resolve.
“Wait,” Donald Laird called out, arm raised as if to seize attention, giving a feel of urgency to what he was about to say. Whatever argument he intended to raise was doomed to fail.
“My mind is set,” Daniel said. “I can’t be talked out of it, so don’t even try.”
“You can’t go,” his mother said, as if he was a small child wanting to go out for a swim at night. He ignored her, knowing she would not see reason while her emotions ruled.
Donald Laird cleared his throat, evidently feeling the need to persist. “I want you to take Sprinter. Keep him, even after you drive off the yetis. He’s a fine horse and would give you a fighting chance,” said the breeder, offering his prized stallion could not have been easy.
“Thanks, but no. I can manage,” Daniel replied. Why take the man’s horse?
“Please, he knows you. As the Creator is witness, you have groomed him often enough for me,” Donald insisted. “Take him; it will ease my conscience about you facing the yetis alone.”
Daniel knew defeating the yetis would require High Power spell casting and his guitarn was back at the cottage. A swift horse would improve his chances of reaching home in one piece. “I accept,” he said, and then turned away, no longer wanting to look at all the frightened faces staring at him.
He passed through the crowd with ease, they scrambled to get out of his way, and he headed out to the stable where he remembered seeing Donald lead Sprinter right after the assault. He moved swiftly, talking to no one, not wanting to be talked out of what he was about to do. His parents followed closely, they were sure to make a few attempts to dissuade him.
“I’ll go with you,” his father said, drawing a disapproving look from Miriam.
Daniel saddled Sprinter and swung up. “No, I go alone, you wouldn’t stand a chance,” he said, staring down at the grim faces his parents leveled at him, and then adding, “don’t worry, I can kill yetis faster and more efficiently than anyone here.”
“I know,” his father said, and shuddered. “Stay here and kill them when they return.”
“Ronn, don’t let him go. He isn’t coming back, I just know it,” Miriam cried. Tears flowed from her beautiful brown eyes and were swallowed by the dirt floor. Ronn raised his hands as if helpless and she cried all the more.
Daniel sighed, how could he make them understand? “I can’t live here any more. You’ve seen how everyone looks at me, like I’m a rabid wolf. They fear me,” he said, and stared outside. “I’m going to lead the yetis to Binkman’s cliff and burn the blighted beasts to ashes,” he added, and then gripped the reins and heeled Sprinter’s flanks. The ashen stallion sprang forward, away from the screaming protests of his mother.
He rode around front. To his left the sandy street twisted and snaked downward to what was left of the southern barricade. Clumps of fire, remains of the terrible beasts, crackled and sent up a putrid smoke. The once clear blue sky now had a dark and gray cast. Todd Kenni’s wood frame house with a beautiful porch now stood battered and half destroyed by the burning yetis. Fire licked up the planks and would not be satisfied until all had been consumed. Even so, the fire brigade tried in vain to put it out. A simple shield spell could not put out that inferno. To his right the street wound slightly north and up toward the mountain trail. Chad Grening’s stable smoldered with glowing orange embers burning hot. The corpse of a dead horse stretched half way out of what used to be a pair of double doors. Sprinter’s not having been in there was nothing short of a miracle. Chad and Tom could repair the structure quickly enough, but that would not replace the loss of horses, animals both father and son treasured.
Daniel made his decision and urged the stallion forward and to the right. The smoke stung his eyes. A slight pain in his left arm made him aware of his own injury, a deep cut gained while jumping around and burning yetis. He did not bother to heal himself. The pain served to remind him of whose fault this whole mess was. None of the archers said a word at his approach to the barricade. There was no protest when he rode quietly and carefully through the toppled and smashed crates. Not a word, but the looks on their faces said, “Good riddance.”
To Cast The First Spell (The Maestro Chronicles) Page 11