The Children of Isador

by Sam J. Charlton

  Will drew the sword he had taken from the Morg who had unwittingly freed them. It had a curved blade and was more lightweight than the swords he was used to, but it would have to suffice. Taz and Adelyis however, were without weapons.

  Adelyis watched as Will moved over to her and bent his head close. For one heart stopping moment she thought he was about to kiss her. She froze on the spot, her skin involuntarily prickling as his breath feathered across her cheek. However, he merely whispered in her ear.

  “Do you have any spells you could use as a diversion?”

  Momentarily unnerved, Adelyis nodded mutely. She frantically tried to think of something that could draw the Morg away from the stairwell. Without her staff, the most she would be able to manage would be sounds or fleeting images.

  Suddenly, an idea came to Adelyis. Her mouth curved into a slight smile and she closed her eyes. Taz and Will looked on as Adelyis reached out her hand and whispered a string of words in Ennadil.

  Moments later, the image of a Morg female materialized next to them—and both Will and Taz took a startled step backwards before realizing she was merely an image Adelyis had conjured. The female was startlingly life-like and naked to the waist, wearing nothing more than a floor-length flowing black skirt. Lank black hair fell onto her bony shoulders.

  The Morg woman turned to Will and gave him a slow, suggestive smile. Looking upon her, Will grimaced.

  Adelyis kept her eyes squeezed shut and flicked her fingers outward. The Morg turned and walked casually past them, swaying her hips as she moved. She walked out into the main corridor and was illuminated by the light of the torches chained to the walls.

  Appreciative hissing could be heard from the end of the corridor. The she-Morg smiled at the sentries and with a flick of Adelyis’s hand, she turned and sauntered back to where Taz and Will waited. There, the image of the she-Morg disappeared.

  The sentries called after the female encouragingly, hoping she would come back—but when she did not their calls became impatient. Presently the clump of approaching booted feet approached. Two of the Morg rounded the corner, both of them practically salivating in anticipation. However, instead of a half-naked nubile Morg female, two caped figures detached themselves from the shadows and barreled towards them. The Morg had no time to put up a fight; Will’s sword sliced into one and Taz snapped the neck of the other.

  The remaining two sentries saw their companions disappear into a side-passage. Seconds later a strangled noise followed by a few loud thumps alerted them. A short while later a low growl could be heard. The Morg eyed each other warily. They both hesitated, not sure whether to interrupt their comrades having a bit of fun or whether to investigate just in case something was amiss. After a moment of indecision, they decided on the latter.

  Muttering curses about slackers, the two sentries stomped down the hallway, spears raised. They had almost reached the passageway when three caped figures burst out at them.

  These two Morg were harder to bring down than their comrades. Taz launched himself at the shorter of the two sentries; his sinewy arms fastening around the Morg’s lithe form. They grappled like lovers in some fierce embrace before Taz managed to wrench the spear from the Morg’s fingers. Snarling, the Morg reached into his robes and pulled forth a long-bladed dagger, which he would have sunk into the Gremul’s furry belly if Adelyis had not grabbed the Morg from behind and dug her fingers into his eye-sockets. With a howl, the Morg released his grip for a moment—and in one swift movement, Taz grabbed the dagger and slit the Morg’s throat. The corpse slumped, twitching and kicking, to the floor; blood pooling on the stone floor underneath the black robes. Adelyis was shaking as she stared down at the dead Morg.

  Nearby, Will had managed to slay the other Morg. He pulled his blade out of his opponent’s chest and swayed slightly against the wall. His cape had fallen back and Adelyis saw a red stain seeping through the side of the leather jerkin he wore.

  “Will, you’re hurt!”

  “Not badly,” Will replied breathlessly, “although after the racket we’ve just made I may end up a lot worse off than this. This corridor will be crawling with Morg soon. Let’s get a move on.”

  Needing no further encouragement, Adelyis and Taz followed Will up the spiraling stairwell. Will led them to the Wizard’s Chamber. It was here his friend Jennadil Silverstern had resided for three years, and seduced Myra Brin from under the City-Lord’s nose. With any luck, the shaman they were looking for would be sleeping here tonight.

  They reached the chamber and, not knowing how else to attract attention, Will knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door. His gaze met Taz’s while they waited for a response. The Gremul’s eyes glowed like two suns in the murky light. His expression was keen and feral and Will was relieved Taz was a friend not a foe. Having seen the Gremul handle himself in physical combat, Will knew he would not want to be Taz’s opponent.

  A hissing enquiry came from inside the chamber. Instead of answering, which would immediately give them away, Will knocked again; louder this time. There was a moment of silence before they heard the lock releasing. The door started to open a crack and not waiting for the shaman to see them and slam it shut again, Will and Taz threw themselves against the door with all their combined strength.

  The shaman screeched and fell back, as an Orinian male and a ferocious creature covered in russet pelt with nasty fangs, bore down upon him. He was grasping for his staff but his attackers were too close to him now for him to use it effectively.

  Adelyis entered the chamber behind the others, and recognized the Morg as Salazth, the shaman she had fought in the Arden Highlands. She was surprised to find Salazth, and not Chak, residing in the Wizard’s Chamber, and wondered if the Morg had rearranged their hierarchy since she had passed the afternoon with Chak and Salazth in Serranguard’s library. Salazth had not noticed her, preoccupied as he was with fending off both man and beast.

  Adelyis could hear shouts echoing up the stairwell, warning them that this tower would soon be overrun. She dodged the spray of red sparks that were spouting sporadically from the Salazth’s staff and squeezed past the struggling trio.

  Running to the other-side of the chamber, Adelyis cast her gaze about frantically. Where was it? Surely Salazth would keep the staff where he could look upon it and gloat at its acquisition.

  There it was—leaning up against the far wall. Adelyis grabbed her staff, feeling its energy vibrate through her as she did so, and turned to aid the others. They had almost overcome the struggling shaman and Adelyis hesitated to step in, in case she accidently injured them in the process.

  It was then that Adelyis saw two leather-bound books on a small table near the window. They were illuminated by a torch that hung from the wall above the table. They had obviously interrupted the shaman from his studies.

  Adelyis scooped up the books and stuffed them into the deep pockets inside her cloak. They would give her vital clues as to what the Morg were searching for. When she turned back to the doorway, she found Will and Taz standing over the Salazth’s motionless form.

  “You found it?” Will’s voice was rough from exertion and pain.

  Adelyis nodded, and joined her two companions as they hurried out into the stairwell. The echoing sound of feet, of what sounded like a whole battalion of Morg, marched their way up the stone steps towards them.

  “We are trapped!” Taz growled.

  “Not yet!” Adelyis replied. She stepped forward and thrust her staff downwards.

  “Edelyith mirenn anieath!”

  A tongue of flame shot out from the top of the staff and roared down the stairwell. The smell of burning, and screams and shouts reached the trio on the landing.

  “That should distract them for a moment,” Adelyis announced while Taz and Will gazed at her in awe. “I am now going to cover us in a cloaking spell. This enchantment can only be used in times of mortal danger and it will only last a few minutes. We must lin
k hands for it to work properly. Are you ready?”

  Wordlessly, Will and Taz nodded. Adelyis took hold of Will’s hand and Will took hold of Taz’s. Then, Adelyis murmured words in Ennadil, briefly touching Will and Taz with her staff.

  A cloud of tiny, sparkling particles erupted from the top of Adelyis’s staff and enveloped them.

  Keeping a tight grip on Will’s fingers, so tight Will thought she might break his hand, Adelyis led the way down the stairwell. Chameleon-like, their forms became as of the walls and stairwell. They carefully wove their way in between hysterical Morg who were frantically beating flames off themselves and coughing in the acrid smoke that filled the stairwell.

  Moments later, the three of them were outside in the main corridor. Still holding fast onto each other’s hands, they squeezed past a group of heavily armed Morg hurrying towards the tower and slipped, unnoticed, into a side passage. Hidden by darkness, they sprinted through the labyrinth of corridors and did not dare slow their pace until they were far from the Scholar’s Tower.

  “I need to look at your wound.”

  Adelyis turned to Will the moment the door closed behind them. They were safe for the moment, hidden inside a cramped chamber once used for storing sacks of grain. The earthy smell of wheat still lingered in the musty air.

  They had only made it half way back to their original hiding-place when the sheer number of incensed Morg swarming about the fortress had forced them to take refuge. Taz was busy securing the door while outside, booted feet thumped back and forth; some far away, others unnervingly close.

  “There’s no need.” Will tried to step out of Adelyis’s reach but she followed him. Once Adelyis had him backed up against a row of empty wooden shelves, she unbuckled the leather vest he wore and peeled it back to reveal his bloodstained undershirt.

  Adelyis made a hissing sound between clenched teeth. “You’re losing a lot of blood!”

  “Stop fussing, it’s just a flesh wound.”

  “That it may be but you’re still bleeding. I need to bind it. Take off your shirt.”

  Will gave her a long, slow look in response, and Adelyis felt her face grow hot. She wished he would not deliberately provoke her like this. Sometimes he showed no respect for the fact she was an Ennadil witch.

  Adelyis watched Will remove his shirt, and saw him wince as the movement hurt his wound. He was standing so close to her she could feel the heat of his body. Suddenly, it felt hot and airless in the storeroom. Adelyis took a close look at Will’s injury, before turning away from him and pulling down the cobwebs that festooned the walls behind her.

  “These will seal the wound,” she explained when she saw the look of worry on his face. She carefully plugged the wound with the spider webs before helping him back on with his leather vest; pulling its buckles tight so it would not chafe.

  “You have the touch of a born healer.” Will smiled down at Adelyis when she had finished.

  “We should rest while we can,” Adelyis replied briskly, cursing her glowing, embarrassed face.

  Sensing her discomfort, Will said nothing more.

  A while later, the three of them sat side by side on the storeroom’s dusty floor; their backs pressed against the shelves behind them. Adelyis sat between Will and Taz. The second of the two spell books she had taken from Salazth’s chamber was open on her knee. Her companions dozed. Outside, the pandemonium had died down a little. Heads would roll over this one—not only had they let the prisoners escape, again—but this time Adelyis had her staff which made her considerably more difficult to find and dangerous to apprehend. Adelyis scanned the pages quickly; her mind was sharp and clear as she scanned each page.

  “I’ve found it,” Adelyis exclaimed finally. The others stirred from their dozing and sleepily gave Adelyis their attention.

  “I know what they were so desperate to find. It’s here!” Adelyis gestured to the pages of the open book she held. Will glanced down and saw an illegible black scrawl in the margins. Certain points in the text were circled and underlined.

  “What have you found?” he said, trying to clear his tired mind to concentrate on what Adelyis was saying.

  “It’s a weather spell they’re looking for,” Adelyis whispered triumphantly, her eyes bright. “That’s why that cloud is hanging over everything. It should be autumn now but they have made the air unseasonably clammy and hot. However, they will have problems sustaining it I think. These are all temporary spells.”

  “But why should they want to alter the weather?” Taz asked.

  “My guess is they don’t like the cold,” Will replied, his expression thoughtful. “We know very little of the Morg but we do know that they come from a land that never sees winter.”

  “So they’ve conquered a continent they can’t actually inhabit,” Taz mused. “What kind of folly is that?”

  “It does not make any sense,” Adelyis agreed, “but what is even stranger is that they don’t already know a permanent weather spell—such an enchantment is complex but not impossible. Their shamans appeared highly skilled and it puzzles me as to why they are not able to perform one.”

  Will looked down at the hysterically scribbled notes on the pages, equally mystified. “You met their leader, Adelyis, do you think he could cast such a spell?”

  Adelyis paled at the memory of the fell being she had encountered on the tower top. “I have never met anyone so powerful,” she admitted. “Such a powerful warlock should know how to conjure a permanent weather spell.”

  “Unless he didn’t want to.” Will pointed out.

  The words hung in the musty air before them, demanding an explanation none of them could give.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A COMPANY OF FOUR

  Lord Theo Brin snarled and flung his half-full chalice of wine across his chamber. Vermel Ham ducked, just in time, as the chalice flew overhead. It hit the wall with a hollow clunk and bounced onto the tiled floor, leaving a crimson flower; a dripping red stain, on the whitewashed wall.

  “Where is he? I summoned him over an hour ago!”

  “I’m sure he will be here shortly Sire,” Vermel wrung his chubby, jewel-encrusted hands together as he spoke. “Please be patient.”

  “I am not used to being kept waiting!” Theo stomped over to the window. It was a grey, airless day outside; his window faced west and the sky in that direction had a strange yellow tinge. Theo’s mood was too foul, however, for him to register this anomaly.

  “How dare she!” he muttered glaring at the colorless sky. “When I get her back here I will have her whipped and locked up. I will teach her obedience!”

  Vermel winced at his Lord’s words and glanced at the enormous wine jug on the table next to him. It was nearly empty. Upon learning that his daughter had run off with the wizards and Lassendil Florin on their hopeless quest, Theo had been pouring wine down his gullet, requesting the jug be refilled constantly. He was an irascible, mean drunk and Vermel longed to be excused from his presence. There was a heavy silence in the chamber while the counsellor desperately searched for something calming to say. Then, someone knocked on the door.

  “Enter!” Theo bellowed before turning to Vermel. “Pour me more wine you oaf!”

  Vermel hastened to obey. The door opened, revealing the hunched, greasy-haired figure of Hugo, Lord Brin’s chamberlain.

  “My Lord,” Hugo’s voice was as oily as his hair. “The bounty hunter is here.”

  “Show him in then!” Theo barked.

  Hugo shuffled aside to allow a tall, lean figure, dressed in forest green to pass into the room. Dael, freshly bathed and well fed since his arrival here at Falcon’s Mount, looked far more relaxed than the chamber’s other occupants.

  Even here in relative safety, he carried a quiver slung across his back, a sword at his side and various daggers strapped to his arms and legs. His handsome face was impassive as he made a courteous bow and waited for Theo to speak.

 
“I trust you have been spending well the gold I gave you,” Theo’s tone would have soured milk.

  “It was gold well earned,” he replied lightly, “I will soon be on my way however. I tire of staying here.”

  “Not before you carry out one more job for me,” Theo replied.

  The bounty hunter cocked a dark eyebrow. “My Lord?”

  “Yes, I have an urgent task for you,” Theo grabbed the chalice Vermel offered him and took a deep draught of wine before continuing. “Of course you will be paid handsomely. Do you accept?”

  “It depends on what this task is?” Dael replied.

  “My daughter has run off. You must get her back for me.”

  Dael gave Theo Brin a speculative look. “Do you have any idea where she has gone?”

  “She has gone with the wizards to Serranguard.”

  There was a pregnant pause before Dael let out a low laugh. “Well, good luck to her.”

  “You must track them down and bring her back here!” Theo’s voice rose querulously.

  “They will be halfway to Serranguard by now.” Dael shook his head. “No amount of gold you could offer me would be worth entering Serranguard when it’s occupied by the Morg.”

  “Are you refusing me?” Theo hissed. Vermel watched with increasing distress as Lord Brin puffed up like a bullfrog before his eyes. The counsellor knew from years of unpleasant experience that the rage about to be unleashed would be blistering.

  “I am,” Dael replied as calmly as if he was dismissing the offer of a glass of wine. “I am a businessman, Lord Brin. There is no fortune to be made in following your daughter to her death. War is coming to this city. You have far greater worries to contend with.”

  “One thousand gold pieces!” Theo screeched, his face livid. “I will pay you one thousand gold pieces if you do this!”

  Dael shook his head. “It is a handsome offer but gold is no longer of any use to me. There will soon be no place for me to spend it.”

  “You cannot refuse me!” Theo exploded. The wine in his goblet splashed everywhere like molten lava in a volcanic explosion.