by Ty Johnston
“What I would like to know is where Belgad and Fortisquo were,” Adara said. “The old wizard said they were coming for us.”
“They were probably outside Holderby’s Landing,” Kron said before taking another sip of Randall’s medicine.
“Why didn’t they attack?” Adara said.
Randall took the bowl from Kron’s hands, turned it up to drain the last of its contents and returned it to his saddle bags.
“Testing us,” Kron said. “Maybe to see how we would react. It wasn’t a well thought out attack on their part. It would have made more sense to ambush us on the road.”
“You think Belgad is that subtle?” Randall said taking a seat on the ground next to Kron.
“Fortisquo is,” Adara said.
Kron nodded in agreement.
Randall stared into Kron’s eyes. “You should start seeing some light in the next minute or so,” he said. “After that, you’ll gradually gain back your sight. It’ll be blurry at first, but that will pass.”
“Thank you,” Kron said.
Adara retrieved a sack full of sandwiches from Holderby’s Landing and passed each man something to eat. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.
“We’ll leave the road,” Kron said. “I was going to take the main road to Caballerus, then follow a track northeast to the Lands, but now I’m thinking we’ll stick to the woods for a couple of days. Then it should be safe to use the road again. We’ll head straight east for a while.”
“What’s the next town?” Randall asked.
“Pinsonfork is four or five days away by the road,” Kron said. “We should be there in a week.”
“A week?” from Adara.
“There are a few villages between here and there,” Kron said, “but we should avoid them for a while.”
“How can we be sure we’ve gotten rid of Belgad?” Randall asked.
“We can’t,” Kron said blinking.
Chapter Three
The days in the woods were nearly more than Adara could stand. The meals tended to be dried goods provided by the store from Holderby’s Landing, though Kron did try to expand their diet by adding wild berries and the occasional rabbit or squirrel. The weather was dry, but the nights chilly, and saddle blankets did not cut the cold and smelled of horse. None of this sat well with Adara. She missed silk sheets, feathered pillows and meals that had not been crawling only minutes before being turned over a fire.
“I wish Belgad and Fortisquo had showed themselves at the village,” she said after breakfast the third morning since fleeing Holderby’s Landing.
“Why?” Randall asked as the three of them mounted their horses and began slowly making their way through the woods.
“Then we could have killed them,” Adara said, “and we wouldn’t have to hide among the damn trees.”
“Belgad isn’t the only one after us,” Kron added.
“Yes, all of Kobalos, apparently,” Adara vented. “Verkain and his war demons are just waiting to tear us apart.”
Kron moved his riding animal into the lead position. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Randall, about these war demons.”
“What of them?” the healer said.
“What are they?” Kron asked.
“They’re demons.”
“From hell?” Adara asked.
“Yes, hell, where the Book of Ashal tells us evil souls are sent,” Randall said. “My father summons them when he has need of their services.”
“What kind of services?” from Kron.
“Assassinations and the like,” the healer said. “Whatever he wants them to do. They are massively destructive and nearly impossible to destroy.”
“Nearly?” Kron asked.
“Powerful magics might be able to harm them, or at least slow them down,” Randall explained, leading his horse around a wide tree. “You might be able to beat one down if you had a magical weapon.”
“Are you sure they’re from hell?” Adara asked, as if not believing what she had heard.
“My father performs a ritual, which usually kills three or four slaves, and a war demon appears in smoke and flame,” Randall said. “He told me he summoned them from hell, and I have no reason to disbelieve him. From what I studied at university, it’s entirely possible.”
Adara shivered as she rode along next to Randall. Her East Ursian upbringing had instilled in her a fear of hell and the beings that supposedly dwelled there. Like all young East Ursian girls from noble families, she had spent time in a private school under the control of the church, which controlled nearly everything in the East. The Book of Ashal told that humans who did not live up to the almighty god’s plan for their life were sent to hell where they would be tortured by demons and devils for all eternity. Adara was not an overly religious person, but the Eastern Church’s teachings had made an impression.
“Why do the demons have to do Verkain’s bidding?” Adara asked after a few minutes of quiet.
“They don’t have to,” Randall explained. “He gives them slaves. They kill the slaves, then the slaves’ souls belong to them.”
“Are you serious?” Adara asked. It sounded like madness to her.
“I don’t understand everything about it. I haven’t spent a lot of time studying low magics,” Randall said, “but yes, apparently that is what happens. I’ve seen the ceremonies performed. My father casts his ritual, the demon appears and slaughters a few slaves. What happens beyond that, I don’t know, but my father used to threaten me with the same fate.”
“Oh, Ashal,” Adara said. “What a family to be born into.”
***
As they made their slow way through the woods, Kron allowed Randall and Adara’s conversation to fade into the background. He thought they were probably safe from Belgad while they stayed in the brush, but he wanted to keep his senses alert to a possible ambush. While he tuned his ears to the sounds of the forest, particularly distant bird calls and snappings of undergrowth, his mind turned to their pursuers.
Lord Verkain’s war demons seemed a distant threat. If they knew Randall’s location, they already would have attacked. It also seemed unlikely any agents of Verkain could guess what direction they were traveling. The lord of Kobalos would not expect his only surviving son to be traveling toward him.
On the other hand, Belgad was definitely on their trail. The last couple of days Kron had been going over and over the short fight and flight at Holderby’s Landing. He was curious as to why Belgad and Fortisquo had not shown themselves. The only thing Kron could come up with was that they were present, but were in the background hiding, perhaps with the aid of their wizard. Why would they be present and not take part in the attack? Because they wanted to watch and learn. Belgad and Fortisquo were not fools, but Kron did not think Belgad was overly crafty. Fortisquo, on the other hand, was devilish enough to set up such a scenario. The rapier master was familiar with Adara in combat situations, and he had seen Kron in action, but he had no clue as to how Randall would react in a dire situation. Kron guessed Fortisquo had been disappointed. Not to take all the credit for their escape at Holderby’s Landing, but Kron was aware Adara and Randall had done little more than flee the situation. He did not hold that against them; in fact, he was glad of it because it proved their quick summation of the situation. They had been better off fleeing than trying to help because they likely would have only gotten in his way. It was true Adara had pulled him from the wizard, Karitha, but Kron realized she could have gotten herself injured or killed. He did not know if he had harmed Karitha with his thrown dagger, but she had yelled out as if in pain. Kron was so sure of his survival skills that even without his sight, he was positive he could have gotten away from of Belgad’s men and the wizard. If nothing else, he would have tossed another smoke grenado and darted into the woods.
“Do you think they’ll try another ambush?” Kron heard Randall ask, drawing his attention back to the conversation.
“Probably in Pinsonfork,” Adara said as they
rode. “They can guess we’ve gone to the woods, but they won’t know where we are. They’ll wait for us in Pinsonfork.”
Kron’s mind drifted away from the conversation again, but he focused on the idea of an ambush. Kron knew Belgad was a northerner, a Dartague barbarian warlord long ago, which meant the man might have some woods skills. If so, he would still have a hard time finding Kron, Adara and Randall. Kron made sure to wipe away signs of their camping, and Randall continued to place a protective spell on them at least once a day.
Kron began to wonder if it was a good idea to continue to Pinsonfork. He had planned on turning them north soon after Holderby’s Landing, and the main northern road set out from Pinsonfork, but they could always cross open land to reach the road, or they could pass up the road altogether and stick to a forest path. That would slow their movement, making it months instead of weeks before they would near the Prisonlands, but it also meant safety. Kron didn’t believe Belgad or any of his men were good enough trackers to find them in the West Ursian forests, and he had to trust Randall’s spells to be strong enough to block any magical viewers.
On the other hand, if the party went ahead to Pinsonfork, they might have the chance of dealing with Belgad once and for all. Kron liked that idea, but he realized it brought grave danger for Randall and Adara.
Kron pictured in his mind the town of Pinsonfork he had traveled through several months earlier and he imagined various layouts for an ambush against Belgad. Scenarios darted through Kron’s mind, one after another, but all ended with his group’s defeat. For one thing, Belgad and gang would arrive in the town before Kron, so a proper ambush was out of the question.
Kron realized if they went on to Pinsonfork, he would have to face Belgad on his own. The idea made him grin. He would love to take down the man who had ordered his parents killed, but he understood he could not win this fight alone.
To take down Belgad, Kron would have to bide his time. Going to Pinsonfork was not a good idea. Kron could see that. He would have to be patient. He would have to wait. The time would eventually be right, then he would slide a knife through Belgad’s ribs and watch the man die suffocating as blood filled his lungs.
***
The day was drawing close to ending when Adara broached the subject of their travel arrangements again.
“It’s been three days. You said we’d only be in the woods for two,” the woman said to Kron as they prepared camp. “I might not be a woodsman, but I can follow the sun when there’s an opening in the trees. We’ve not been heading due east for several hours.”
“We’re not going to Pinsonfork,” Kron said flatly, then returned to building a fire.
Adara turned to look at Randall as if she had been struck with a weapon. “Can you believe your ears?”
Kron stood and faced the woman. “You can either complain, as you have done most of this trip, or you can help build camp,” he said.
Adara Corvus was taken aback. No one spoke to her that way, especially not a man. Yes, she had complained, but their travels had been dirty and often boring, and Kron spoke so little she was forced to have every conversation with Randall, who was nice and royalty but he was not as worldly as Adara. Kron was her teacher. He was supposed to be the one talking to her. Damn it, he was the one who was supposed to be bedding her! It had always been that way and it had worked for Adara. Moving from man to man, learning from each of them, had taught her skills with the sword. Kron offered tutoring, when it was convenient, but he had made no move toward Adara sexually. It dawned on her that was what infuriated her most.
“You ... you ...” she started, but could not finish the words.
“We’re all frustrated,” Randall said stepping between the two. “We’re having to watch over our shoulders all the time. We’re tired and we’re hungry, and another night sleeping on the ground and eating dry stuff or what we can kill doesn’t appeal to anyone.”
Kron remained as silent as stone.
“I think we just need some food and sleep,” the healer continued. “Adara can have her lesson in the morning.”
That’s when the sky seemed to explode.
The tops of trees shattered with a deafening booming noise, then branches and leaves rained down.
“War demons,” Randall yelled, shielding his eyes with a hand.
Kron rolled across the camp to their horses and snagged his bow from a pile of gear. He came up on one knee with an arrow already to his bowstring.
Adara too was suddenly busy, jumping away from the falling debris while drawing her rapier in her right hand and whipping out her main gauche in her left hand.
Plunging at them from on high was the monstrous, armored figure of a war demon, its wings coiled in tight against its body and its claws outstretched. A maw below its glowing red eyes within its helmet opened wide and screamed a hiss.
“What do we do?” Adara asked.
“We fight,” Kron said.
“We die,” the healer said.
Kron launched his arrow through the falling branches, catching the demon in its left shoulder. The arrow stuck, protruding between armored plates, but did not slow the monster.
As the demon cleared the last of the giant oak’s lower limbs, it spread its bat-like wings wide and hovered above the three, hissing all the while.
Kron put another arrow to string and loosed it at the creature. The bolt thumped against the thing’s armored breastplate and fell useless to the ground.
“Get out of here!” Darkbow yelled at the others.
Despite a stench of long-dead corpses flowing from the beast’s mouth, Adara stood her ground with weapons raised, waiting for the monster to lower into her attack range.
Randall backed away from the horror above him, but did not flee. His mind was filled with fear, but determination ruled his heart. He had fled long enough from his father. He had watched his family butchered in front of him. He would stand it no more.
The young healer raised a hand wearing a thick gold ring and pointed at the demon.
“Be gone!” Randall yelled. “I, a prince of Kobalos, command you in the name of my father, Lord Verkain! You are honor bound to the house of Verkain, and I am Prince Kerwin Verkain! You must do as I command!”
The demon ceased its screechings and paused in the air, its wings flapping in the wind. It glanced from Randall to Kron to Adara as if it did not know what to do.
The healer turned his hand so the mark of Verkain upon the ring was clearly visible to the demon. “I am a member of the royal family to whom you are allegianced! I order you to leave this vicinity and to hinder me no more!”
For a moment the demon’s head continued to look from one of the three to another, then it glared at the sky and raised its mighty wings behind itself. The beast roared, its scream shaking the remaining tree limbs above. Then the creature’s wings wrapped around its body and it fell toward the ground. Mere feet above Randall’s head there was another invisible explosion and the war demon vanished.
Chapter Four
Belgad did not like what he was hearing.
“My officer knew not what to do,” Ybalik, the general of the war demons, explained to the Dartague barbarian. “He was shown the sign of Lord Verkain and retreated for further orders.”
Sitting on a rock in front of his horse, Belgad kicked the ground sending a stone rolling. “Of course the healer had the sign of Kobalos,” the northerner said trying not to verbally explode and insult the demon leader. “He’s Verkain’s son. Wasn’t this made clear to your soldiers?”
The demon general snarled. “I will not explain further.”
Belgad glanced up at the demon standing over him, noting the anger in the general’s voice. The bald northerner knew he was pushing the limits of his relationship with the war demons and Verkain. He couldn’t question the demons too much, and he definitely couldn’t insult Ybalik, or they would turn on him. Belgad knew no fear, but he was no fool. The demons could tear him and his party apart in seconds. The onl
y reason the demons had not done so thus far was because Belgad had bargained with them, agreeing to help them find Randall while also hunting for Adara and Kron Darkbow.
Belgad’s eyes shifted to the small encampment they had thrown together beside the bricked road. Four of Belgad’s armor-clad soldiers were busy brushing down their horses while the sword master Fortisquo sat in a folding chair to the side of the camp. Belgad noticed the sword master had his one good eye focused on a book, the other eye covered by a black patch; apparently the swordsman in fancy clothes was more enthralled with whatever he was reading than the goings-on around him. Next Belgad spotted the wizard woman Karitha, tall in purple gowns below folds of red hair; she was busy, working at building a fire.
Belgad pushed away from the ground and stood next to the general, the tall and bulky human dwarfed by the demon’s mass. “Can you still follow them using the tracing hex?” Belgad asked.
“We can, but we await word from Kobalos,” the war demon said. “As we speak, one of my agents is conferring with Lord Verkain. The Kobalan lord will tell us what must be done. The healer will likely be dead by morning.”
Belgad wasn’t so sure. Kron Darkbow had proven resourceful, and Tendbones was turning out to be the same. Kron, Randall and Adara should have been dead before leaving Bond, but they had been elusive. Some of that was luck, Belgad was sure, but some of it was also because he had allowed them to escape. He could have had them in Holderby’s Landing, but Fortisquo had warned of being too hasty. Karitha had cast a camouflage spell, hiding Fortisquo and Belgad among nearby brush, then she had engaged their three enemies at close range; Belgad had thought it a stupid thing to do, but Karitha had insisted it was necessary to cast her tracing hex on their foes.
The woman wizard, and the war demons, had said Randall, Adara and Kron were hidden well by magic, probably a spell of the youthful healer. However, Karitha had said if she could get close enough to the three, she could put a tracing hex on them that would allow her and the demons to keep track of their movements. That part of the plan had worked, but she had received a dagger in one arm and several of Belgad’s men had been bruised.