“Dex!”
“I’m fine.”
Soren knew it wasn’t true. He gripped his own throbbing shoulder as he watched helplessly as the Shadow Stalker made another pass at Dex. The red dragon swerved to the right, avoiding the creature’s claws this time. He spewed out flame, barely missing the flying creature. Soren’s shoulder burned.
“Dex, your wound…”
“It is the poison you feel.”
“What!”
His stomach tightened as realized the Shadow Stalker’s touch must be poisonous and his healer pack was still strapped to Dex’s back.
“Can you start a fire?” he asked Bevin.
Bevin patted his side pouch. “Yes, I have my flint. Why do you need a fire?”
“Dex has been poisoned. I need to make a poultice to draw it out. Most of what I need is in my pack. I’ll need a fire.”
A roar from above had them both turning their eyes to the sky. Dex bore down on the smaller creature. He opened his jaws, shooting out a stream of fire. The yellow, orange flames engulfed the Shadow Stalker. The creature shrieked as it twisted in the air. Suddenly, its body burst. Black dust rained down.
Dex flew toward them as Bevin rushed to gather wood, hastily stacking it nearby. He quickly knelt, and lit the wood on fire.
As soon as Dex was on the ground, Soren scrambled onto his back. He grabbed his pack, sliding back to the ground. He glanced at the raised welts, three thin lines about two feet long on Dex’s shoulder. Soren knelt before the fire.
“I need water.” He pulled out a small pot as Bevin handed him a flask. “Grab a shirt or something. I need three cloths the length of Dex’s wounds and a pot for the healing potion.”
Bevin dug through his bag for a second pot and placed it by the fire. Soren filled it with water. He tossed herbs in one pot for the poultice. Once he had that on Dex he would start the healing potion. While it heated over the fire, he took what was left in the flask and poured the water over Dex’s wounds. Soren flinched as Dex roared, and the pain in his own shoulder flared.
“Sorry,” he said, patting the dragon’s side. “What do you know of this poison?”
“Nothing good. Few survived an encounter with a Shadow Stalker.”
“We will have to make sure you are one of those few.”
Soren pulled the small pot off the fire and set it aside to cool. He cut up the other herbs he would need for the healing potion. He tossed them in the other pot.
Bevin held up a shirt and a towel. “Which one?”
Soren glanced at them and then Dex’s wounds. “Use the towel. It should be long enough. Tear it into three sections.” He rubbed his aching shoulder.
“What is that?” Bevin pointed at him.
Soren looked down at his shirt. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Bevin reached out, pulling the shirt away from Soren’s skin. Twisting, he could barely see the inflamed red marks on his shoulder. He pulled off the shirt. Bevin whistled as he touched Soren’s back. Pain flared across Soren’s shoulder. He twisted away from Bevin’s touch.
“You have three red marks,” Bevin said. “They’re warm to the touch.”
“And painful,” Soren said as he pulled on his shirt. “Dex, I’ve felt your pain before but…”
“I don’t know. Maybe it is the poison. The Shadow Stalker is a creature of magic too.”
Soren tested the temperature of the paste for his poultice. Deeming it cool enough, he smeared it on Dex’s wounds and covered them with the cloth. He hoped this would work. He reassured himself that he would know soon. His connection to Dex would tell him if it worked or if the dragon was getting worse. His stomach tightened at that thought. He didn’t think he could bear Dex’s death. Pushing that thought away, he turned to check the healing potion. Deeming it ready, he set it to the side to allow it to cool.
“We will change the poultice every two hours. I made enough healing tonic for today and tomorrow morning. We will hope this along with your own fast healing abilities will be enough to combat the poison.” He patted Dex’s side. “Rest now.”
Soren began organizing his supplies, noting what he needed to replenish. There were a few that were running low. He would have to see if he could find what he needed in the nearby forest, or if he couldn’t find those items at least he might find something he could substitute. As a child, his mother had made him and Jerrick accompany her on long walks to collect the herbs for her own potions. He had hated it but now he was glad she had drilled into him the different herbs and their uses. He glanced up from his musings to find Bevin watching him.
“What?”
The guard looked over to where Ivar had met his demise. “That creature destroyed his soul.” Bevin shook his head. “I’m still trying to fathom something like that but what I don’t understand is how did that creature get Ivar’s soul? He never came near him.”
“Dex seems to think the Shadow Stalker may have had it for some time.”
“But how?”
Soren put the herbs and supplies back in his pack. “Ivar was kind of odd.”
Bevin laughed. “Oh, yes. No doubt about that.”
Soren smiled. “Did you ever stop to think about it? His accent and speech seemed out of place as did his clothes. They were not just old but old fashioned. And he was the only one willing to help us. We were so happy to find help that we never questioned it.”
“What are you saying?”
“You said there would be traps, protections surrounding the fortress. What if Ivar was one of them?” Bevin shot him a puzzled look and Soren hurried to continue. “Ivar said many people had gone in search of the fortress and never returned. Maybe that is because Ivar agreed to guide them. He takes them out into the forest and kills them. Remember he kept insisting we walk. He didn’t want Dex to come. Dragon fire is the only thing to destroy Shadow Stalkers.”
Bevin nodded. “Plus, he couldn’t kill you with Dex around.” He paused for a moment, staring at the fortress. “I don’t know, Soren. It is an interesting theory, but can a wizard do this? I mean, Drachen lived over two hundred years ago. That would make Ivar and the Shadow Stalker at least that old.”
Soren shrugged. “I don’t know. It would explain how the Shadow Stalker had his soul. If it held his soul, Ivar would be forced to comply.” His eyes went to the sleeping form of Dex and to the covered gashes. His stomach tightened as he thought about the severity of the inflamed wounds. Soren rose. “I need to find more ingredients for the next poultice.”
But instead of leaving, he continued to stare at Dex, hesitant to leave him.
“Go,” Bevin urged. “I’ll watch over him.”
As Soren moved off toward the forest, he replayed his idea that Ivar was one of the protectants of the fortress. It seemed far-fetched, but it also explained quite a bit. His shoulder ached as he searched for the plants he needed. Luck was with him and he found the required ingredients. He returned to camp to find Dex still slept.
Two hours later, Soren changed the poultice. The area was still inflamed and hot. Bevin made dinner, but Soren wasn’t hungry. Instead, he paced nervously beside the sleeping dragon. The sun set, and it was dark the next time he changed the dressing. Bevin slept by the fire. Soren laid out the supplies to make the poultice again in two hours. If he could, he would make the paste now, but it would be better, stronger if freshly made. He leaned against Dex hoping he was doing the right thing. His shoulder still ached. There had been little change in Dex’s condition. Now, his breaths were slow and deep as he slept. The rhythm relaxed Soren. He slid to the ground. He fought to keep his eyes open but could feel them grow heavier. Giving in he closed them for a few minutes.
Soren blinked. He squinted at the sun and the blue sky. Bevin knelt by the fire. Probably making breakfast, he thought. And then panic set in. He had fallen asleep. He sat up. His eyes immediately went to Dex. Reassurance washed over him as he saw the dragon still asleep. He stood up, touching the area near the wounds. It felt less hot.
&nbs
p; “I’ve changed the poultice once this morning. I was getting another batch ready,” Bevin said.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Soren noticed the pot Bevin held. “Wait, you made the poultice?”
“I saw you do it several times yesterday, and you had all the items laid out.” Bevin handed him the pot. “And I let you sleep because you needed it. You and Dex both did.”
Soren removed the old paste and applied a new layer. “Has Dex been awake at all?”
“No.”
“I am now.”
“Good. How do you feel?”
“Better.”
Soren picked up the rest of the healing potion and gave it to Dex. He reached back, touching his shoulder. It ached, but it didn’t feel as bad as yesterday. He pulled off his shirt.
“How does it look?” he asked Bevin.
The man came over. He laid his hand near the wound. No pain shot through Soren’s shoulder this time.
“It isn’t as red,” Bevin said. As Soren put back on his shirt, the guard went back to the fire, returning with a plate of food. “You didn’t have anything last night. Eat.”
Soren took the plate and sat by the fire. As he ate, his eyes were drawn to the fortress on top of the hill.
“Do you think there are any more of those Shadow Stalkers around?”
“I hope not,” Bevin said with a shudder. “But it confirms Drachen left magical traps. I expect other ones to be there. We will need to be cautious.”
Soren glanced at Dex. “I…we…”
Bevin held up his hand. “We can wait. I know you don’t want to leave Dex.”
“I’m fine, Soren. Go.”
Soren shook his head. “We will see how you are doing after lunch. We need you to get better.” He smiled. “You are after all our way home.”
***
Lush green vines covered the rusty metal gate. Beyond it was the overgrown path leading up the hill to the fortress. Bevin crouched in front of the gate where he had been studying it for the past several minutes. In his hand, he held Soren’s staff. He stood and used the staff to push the gate. It creaked open.
“No traps.” Bevin walked through the gate. “I’ll go first.”
“Go right ahead,” Soren said.
They walked slowly. Bushes grew close to the trail, sometimes even covering the narrow stone path. Bevin used the staff to sweep in front of them. Occasionally, he would use it to tap stones or peer under some of the undergrowth. It was slow going. Soren didn’t want to distract Bevin, so he stayed silent. His mind drifted back to Dex. Even though the wounds from the Shadow Stalker appeared better, he couldn’t help but worry about the dragon. He had changed the poultice before they left, but he didn’t know when they would be back. And even though he had given Dex more of the healing tonic this morning, more needed to be made. Bevin had been anxious to leave for the fortress, so Soren had put it off, planning to tackle that chore when they returned. Even with Dex’s reassurances, he still had reservations about leaving the dragon. The distance between them might be too great to know if Dex needed him, or if he took a turn for the worse.
They reached a bend in the path and, suddenly, Bevin stopped. He held up his hand. Using the staff, he kicked it out in front of him. An arrow whizzed by.
“The first trap. I am surprised it still works after all these years.”
“He had magic,” Soren said.
Bevin sighed. “True.”
Soren waited for Bevin to begin walking again, but the man didn’t. Instead, he stared at a tree a few feet off their path. Using Soren’s staff, Bevin tested the ground as he walked over to it. He set the staff down and pulled out his knife. Soren couldn’t see what he was doing. When Bevin turned around, he held a large hunk of bark roughly the size of his chest.
“What is that for?”
Bevin picked up the staff and made his way back to the path. He knelt. “It is going to be a shield.”
“Isn’t bark too weak to offer much protection?”
Bevin gestured with his head. “That is a Banden tree. The wood is light but strong and slightly flexible, which makes it great for a shield to protect against arrows and spears. It won’t do as much good in an all-out sword fight, but it will offer some protection.”
As he spoke, Bevin used his knife point. Pressing hard, he worked until he bore two small holes through the wood. He took a rope from his pack and threaded it through the holes. After tying it off, he lifted the wood. He stood, holding it in front of him.
Soren chuckled. “Looks… primitive.”
“You can laugh all you want. It will stop any more arrows coming our way.” Bevin pulled his sword. “You can lead the way.”
Soren grabbed the staff, his hand trembling slightly. “What am I looking for?”
“Cords across the path. Check out ground for any holes or other traps.”
Soren sighed. “This will take a long time.”
“Better slow and alive than fast and dead.”
They continued up the path slowly. It ended at a wooden bridge, spanning a ten-foot chasm. Cautiously, Soren approached the edge and glanced down. He couldn’t see the bottom of the dark canyon. Bevin edged closer, tossing a stone in. Silence. Finally, there was the faint splash.
On the other side of the crevice was the curved entrance of a stone tunnel. Dense, dark-green brush pressed against the grey stones. There didn’t seem to be any other direction to go but through the tunnel. Soren’s eyes went back to the wooden bridge. It was narrow, perhaps only wide for two people to walk side by side across it. Logs covered with moss formed the bottom of the bridge and ropes tied from post to post provided the railing. A green vine twisted its way across one of the ropes.
“I don’t like this,” Bevin said. “Shouldn’t those ropes have fallen apart after all these years?”
Soren shrugged. “Magic?”
Bevin nodded as he moved closer to the bridge. He used the staff to press on the first and second logs. Nothing happened. “It appears sturdy, but it could be rigged to collapse when you reach the middle.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the look of the death corridor either.”
“The what?”
Bevin gestured at the passageway. “It is called a death corridor. They were popular at one time but with many castles now being built in or near cities, they aren’t used anymore. They work best in a situation like this. With only one way to the front of the fortress, invaders are meant to enter these long, narrow corridors. Then the fortress defenders attack them with spears and arrows through holes in the sides. There are often more holes in the ceiling so hot oil can be poured on the invaders.”
“I don’t think there is anyone around to attack us.”
“No, but it would be a good place for a trap.”
Soren’s eyes scoured the area around the corridor entrance. The brush was thick and overgrown. It looked impassable. He couldn’t see much of the inside of the corridor from this angle. The outside stone wall appeared smooth, except for the elaborate design of a large wolf carved over the entrance. They wouldn’t be able to scale the wall and travel on top of the corridor. As far as he could tell they would have no choice but to go down the death corridor and hope Drachen had laid no traps within it.
Bevin took a rope from his pack and tied it to a nearby tree. He tied the other end around his waist.
“In case the bridge falls,” he explained.
Soren held his breath as Bevin stepped onto the first log. Nothing happened. He moved to the next and next. Bevin’s body was tense, and Soren imagined he wanted to hurry as he neared the other side. He didn’t know how Bevin contained himself, but the man continued his slow progress. Soren sighed with relief when he made it onto solid ground again. He untied the rope from the tree and tied it around his own waist as Bevin secured the other end to a metal hook at the corridor entrance. Instead of proceeding slowly like Bevin, Soren tried to walk at a normal pace. When he reached the other side, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was
holding.
“That was nerve-wracking,” he said, turning to look at the passageway. It was about ten or twelve paces long. And as Bevin had said, there were slits in the walls. He noted a few round protrusions about waist-high spaced between the slits. Sunlight shone through three small holes in the ceiling. “Now onto the death corridor. I think I could have done without knowing its name.”
“Proceed with caution,” Bevin advised. “Use the staff to look for traps.”
Soren waved the staff through the opening. When nothing happened, he tapped the staff on the stone floor inside the corridor. Again, nothing happened. Soren entered with Bevin right behind him.
Suddenly, a clank echoed through the stone structure. Soren whirled around to see a metal gate slide down. The clang as it hit the ground had a tone of finality. He dropped the staff as both he and Bevin rushed to the gate. They tried to lift it but the gate wouldn’t budge. They were trapped.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bevin paced in front of the bars. He studied the gate for a few minutes, looking for a weakness, a way to open it. Again, he tried to lift it.
“We won’t be getting out this way.” Bevin gestured toward the corridor. “Looks like we have no choice but to go this way. It is the perfect place for a trap. We will walk slowly, side-by-side.” He picked up the shield.
Soren studied the corridor. He knew there was no one here to shoot arrows through the openings or pour oil through the holes in the ceiling. His eyes flickered to the small round protrusions spaced down the passageway. There were six of them - three on each side of the corridor. He wondered what they could be as he positioned the staff in front of him. He resumed the familiar pattern of checking the area before they advanced. He waved the staff. Nothing happened. He tapped on the stones. Nothing. Together they took a step forward and repeated the process. Again, they stepped forward. Fire spewed from the wall in front of them. The flames shot out the round protrusions, covering the area from waist-height all the way to the ground. Bevin and Soren jumped backwards, and the flames stopped.
Blood Bond Page 20