Tales from the New Earth: Volume One

by Thompson, J. J.

  “You are not, master,” the earthen said firmly. “You were doing the right thing.”

  “Yeah, the right thing in absolutely the wrong way. Well, we don't have time for regrets right now. I have to know what's going on up there.”

  He tried to think through his pain. It wasn't easy.

  “What happened to Aeris?”

  “No idea, master. I was too busy getting you to safety to look for him.”

  “Okay. The air in here is getting a bit thin. Hang on to me. I'm getting us out of here.”

  Simon felt Kronk take a firm hold of his coat and chanted the Gate spell. He pictured his target, head throbbing through it all and cast the spell.

  A moment later he was lying on the floor next to his kitchen table. Kronk stood beside his shoulder, a smile of obvious relief on his craggy little face.

  “You did it, master! We're home.”

  “No time to celebrate just yet,” the wizard said as he struggled to his feet.

  His knees were wobbly and he staggered to the closest kitchen chair and collapsed into it. He stared at the center of the table and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his bleary vision. Kronk jumped up to stand next to him.

  “Aeris, I need you,” he said as firmly as he could.

  A pause and then with a harsh crack of thunder, the air elemental appeared hovering above the tabletop.

  He looked around in obvious astonishment and then gaped at Simon.

  “You're alive!” he exclaimed and a look of delight came over his face. Seeing Kronk's sly expression, Aeris caught himself and sniffed. “Of course I knew that. If you had died, I would have been pulled back to my own plane.”

  “Yeah, I'm alive. Barely,” Simon replied as he slumped down in his chair. “Thanks to our mutual friend here,” he added with a smile at Kronk. “But forget about me. What's going on at Nottinghill?”

  Aeris looked grave.

  “They're on the run, my dear wizard. The guards ran out of arrows about an hour ago and the wights swarmed over the gates.”

  Simon leaped to his feet, staggered back and landed on his butt on the floor.

  “What?” he asked weakly as Kronk jumped down and scurried over, looking concerned.

  “You heard me.”

  Aeris floated off of the table and hovered in front of the wizard.

  “Malcolm, Aiden and the others held them back to buy the townspeople some time. Virginia and her group pulled back when I told them what had happened and now they're all barricaded in the town hall. Those damnable wights are tearing at the walls as we speak. They won't hold them back much longer.”

  Simon got to his feet again and stood swaying.

  “Grab on,” he told the elementals. “We have to go, right now.”

  “Master, I think you may have a concussion,” Kronk cautioned him.

  “I think he's right,” Aeris said as he flew up to hover near the wizard's shoulder. “Your eyes are glazed and your speech is slurred.”

  “I don't care! We'll worry about that later. Now grab hold or I'm leaving without you!”

  They quickly held on to Simon's coat, which was dripping with water in the warmth of the tower, and he cast the Gate spell again. This time he pictured the central fire pit of the town hall, with himself a few feet away from it. Then he invoked the spell, knees shaking, and the three were pulled into the Void.

  They appeared in the midst of chaos. Around them, people were yelling and screaming. The few children born in Nottinghill were crying and, in the center of it all, Simon saw Clara calling loudly for calm.

  He and the elementals went unnoticed at first and it gave Simon a chance to look around.

  The walls of the building were shuddering as the sounds of screeching and clawing, obviously from the attacking wights, echoed through the large hall. He spotted Malcolm and Aiden standing side by side facing the reinforced front door and felt a momentary sense of relief.

  So they're still alive, he thought, thankful for the first time that their blood, tainted by the bite of a werewolf, had made them damned hard to kill.

  The pair were bleeding from several deep scratches on their arms and faces but their expressions were grim and resolute. Nothing was getting past them while they could still stand.

  Behind the warriors, Virginia, Anna, Eric and Gerard stood in a line, holding each others' hands. They looked pale and exhausted and Anna, the smallest of the group, was leaning against Eric, trying to stay upright.

  With his wizard's senses, Simon could feel the power emanating from the four young people. It permeated the walls of the hall, strengthening them. They were using their power to shield each other, but extending it to the perimeter of the building. He could tell that their magic was the only thing keeping the wights from tearing the place apart.

  Clara's calls for calm finally got through and the panicked screaming died down. The outside attack sounded even louder and more terrifying now.

  “If anyone else is wounded, step forward,” the cleric said tiredly. “If not, I'm going to heal the guards while I still have the strength. Get the children close to the fire pit and form a wall around them. Those devils will not reach them while any of us live.”

  Simon counted no more than twenty survivors and felt the beginnings of despair.

  Twenty out of what, almost forty souls, he thought. God, I failed them.

  The adults shuffled around, moving the youngsters, just three little children, close to the pit. Suddenly someone, Simon wasn't sure who, spotted him.

  “It's the wizard!” a woman shouted and everyone, even the group guarding the door, turned as one and looked at him.

  “By the gods! Simon, you're alive,” Clara exclaimed and hurried over to him, limping from an unseen wound.

  He attempted to smile and almost keeled over. Aeris moved quickly to grab his shoulder, demonstrating just how strong he really was, while Kronk braced his legs from below.

  “Yeah, more or less,” he told her as the cleric hugged him fiercely.

  “What happened?” she asked. “You went out into the storm and that was the last we saw of you. We feared the worst.”

  “There's no time to explain right now,” he told her, squinting to keep her in focus. “We need to get you all out of here to a place of safety.”

  “Where? Where can we go that those hell-spawn can't follow us?” a large man that Simon vaguely recognized as the town's blacksmith asked dispiritedly. He was holding a massive hammer that was stained black with undead blood.

  “My tower,” Simon told him and the others. “I can Gate six of you at a time, so we'll have to make four trips, but you'll be safe for now.”

  “Simon, can you do that?” Clara asked as she looked at him closely. “You can barely stand.”

  “I'll do it crawling then,” he answered bleakly. “Who cares? You folks are what is important.”

  He looked at the children, none older than three and then at the adults around them.

  “I'll take the kids first with one parent each.”

  There was a momentary hesitation and then a tremendous bang reverberated through the building, making them all jump.

  “Damn it all, what are you waiting for?” Malcolm bellowed from across the room. “Grab the kids and go!”

  At once, the children were scooped up and the three parents hurried to stand next to Simon.

  “You two come along,” he said to the elementals. “You can see to our guests' needs while I keep transporting the rest.”

  Thankfully neither one argued. They just held on to his coat and waited.

  Simon held out a hand to a desperate young woman who was gripping her little girl to her chest, eyes wide and terrified.

  “Take my hand,” he told her gently, “Someone hold on to her shoulder and everyone else grab the hand of the person next to you.”

  When they were all firmly connected, Simon smiled at Clara, chanted the Gate spell and took them away.

  Kronk and Aeris quickly began to organize the
survivors once they arrived in the tower. The sense of relief from the three parents was palpable and they began thanking Simon hysterically.

  “No need, folks. My friends will help with food and whatever else you need. I have to get back.”

  He chanted the incantation again, nodded to the elementals and Gated out.

  Each casting of the Gate spell drew more and more energy from the wizard and it was only the desperate nature of the situation that kept him on his feet. But by the time he had returned for the final group, Simon could barely see or speak.

  He appeared in the hall and fell to his knees. Malcolm, Aiden and the group of four magic-users led by Virginia had insisted that they be taken out last, so that they could hold the building against the wights.

  Aiden hurried over and knelt down beside the wizard.

  “Easy there, Simon,” he said as he wrapped a heavily-muscled arm around him. “Take a breath, recover your strength for a minute.”

  “Do...do we have time for that?” Simon gasped and stared through the fog toward Virginia and the others.

  “We can hold them for a few more minutes,” she replied firmly, even as she stood there shaking like a leaf. Anna was being held up by Eric, who was himself listing to the side. Gerard looked like a ghost. His skin had lost all color and he appeared almost transparent.

  “You know, it's not nice to lie to a wizard,” Simon told her with a half-hearted attempt at humor.

  The others chuckled weakly.

  “Aiden, could you help me over there please?” he whispered to the guardsman.

  “My friend, I would carry you anywhere you wanted to go if you needed me to,” the man replied fiercely.

  He practically lifted Simon to his feet and then put an arm around his waist and helped him over to the others.

  “We're all...”

  The wizard gasped, took a ragged breath and tried again.

  “We're all going to have to be linked for the spell to work,” he told them.

  “We know, Simon,” Virginia said with a exhausted smile. “The problem is that once the four of us connect with someone else, our circuit will be disrupted and our spell broken. The walls won't be reinforced anymore and those monsters will rip through this building like it was made of paper.”

  “Can't...can't be helped,” Simon told her blearily. “Without that connection, you'll be left behind. Just wait until I speak the incantation. I'll hold Aiden's hand. Malcolm, you take his other hand and touch Virginia's shoulder and then I can invoke the spell. It will only take a few seconds.”

  “Well, let's hope those damned wights give us those seconds,” Malcolm rumbled.

  “Let's hope,” the wizard panted. “Okay, here we go.”

  He chanted the spell very slowly so that he didn't stumble over the words. One mispronounced syllable and he would have to start again.

  When he was finished, he pushed Aiden away gently so that he was standing on his own two shaky legs and took the big man's hand.

  “Okay folks,” he said. “Malcolm, take Aiden's hand. When I count to three, put your free hand on Virginia's shoulder. And you four just keep holding on to each other. Got it?”

  “We're ready,” Malcolm growled, staring at the door that was twisting on its hinges from the constant blows from outside. He clasped his partner's hand firmly and gave him a reassuring grin. Aiden nodded silently.

  Simon sucked in a huge breath. His throat felt like it was lined with crushed glass.

  “Okay. One...two....three!”

  A jumble of things happened at all once.

  Malcolm dropped his hand on to Virginia's shoulder. At the same time, Simon felt the magical reinforcement of the walls around them dissipate and, just as he barked “Invectis!”, the front door was smashed open and two wights, pale as death, with claws and fangs like steel, shot through the opening straight at the group.

  Oh crap! he thought desperately as they faded into the void.

  Chapter 7

  As the group materialized in the middle of the main floor of the tower, Simon crumpled to the floor, totally spent. But he managed to keep his eyes open as screams and curses echoed through the room.

  Malcolm and Aiden were thrashing around, two wights insanely ripping at them and trying to get at their throats with their inch-long fangs. The screeching from the undead was ear-splitting and, mingled with Malcolm's bellowing, almost deafened Simon.

  He pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching for some spell to help, but he was simply too exhausted. His numbed brain couldn't find a single incantation and he was forced to watch helplessly as the warriors battled the undead.

  Fortunately they weren't alone. While neither of the embattled men could draw a weapon, they were strong enough to hold the wights in a death grip. And, as Simon tried to focus and stay conscious, someone leaped over him and he saw a flash of steel slam down to crush the head of the wight that was fighting with Aiden. The blacksmith, Gregory, had pulped the monster with his heavy hammer.

  In a flash, Aiden pushed the body away, jumped up, drew his sword and sliced the head off of the second wight just as it was about to fasten its fangs on Malcolm's neck.

  The silence that followed was almost deafening. The guardsmen were panting, their eye wide with shock and adrenaline. A moment passed and then the gurgling cry of one of the children made them all jump and broke the tension in the room.

  Clara had been holding one of the children as she sat on a kitchen chair. Now she passed the little boy to his mother and quickly crossed the room to check on Malcolm and Aiden.

  “Are either of you wounded? Did they scratch you? Their claws are poisonous, you know.”

  The men exchanged a look and smiled simultaneously.

  “Clara,” Malcolm said. “Our wounds from earlier have already healed. At a guess, I'd say that lycanthropes are immune to disease and poison.”

  He reached under the armor at his neck and pulled out an amulet, one of the pair that Simon and Clara had made for him and Aiden several months before.

  “The curse is held at bay by these little miracles, but we are still werewolves, lady. All of the benefits and none of the bad stuff.”

  “All of the taste and none of the calories,” Aiden added with a grin and several people burst out laughing, the sense of relief draining away the last of the panic that had been hovering in the air.

  “Well, good then,” Clara said with a smile. “Just make sure you don't lose that.”

  “Never. Don't worry about us.”

  Malcolm turned and his face fell as he saw Simon sprawled on the floor.

  “Wizard! Are you all right?”

  He quickly knelt down beside Simon and raised him to a sitting position, an arm under the wizard's shoulder.

  Clara joined them, her tired face heavy with concern.

  “Simon. How are you doing?”

  He tried to smile but his lips barely twitched.

  “I'm fine,” he said softly, trying to reassure her, but she frowned at his words and Malcolm's dark face paled.

  “My God, he sounds like he's had a stroke,” the guardsman exclaimed.

  “Hold him still,” Clara ordered. She put her hands gently on Simon's temples and closed her eyes, her brows lowered in concentration.

  Simon watched, the world fading in and out. He vaguely saw people walking around the room and heard the murmur of conversation, but couldn't make out any details. He was just so tired; he wished they'd let him sleep.

  The cleric released him and stared into his eyes, making sure she had his attention.

  “I'm afraid that you have a concussion, my friend. There is also fluid building up between your brain and your skull. That's why you can't focus. Malcolm's right; it's similar to a stroke. Now just relax. I'm going to attempt a healing. There may be some pain.”

  Simon closed his eyes.

  “Do what you have to do,” he whispered, just too exhausted to care anymore.

  He felt Clara's touch again, her hands warm as s
he slipped her fingers under his hair and along his skull. The warmth was comforting, like a mother's touch and he smiled contentedly.

  The warmth increased and became more intense, more penetrating. The heat seemed to come in waves, digging deeper and deeper into his head, not comforting but burning. Simon felt like his brain was starting to boil like an egg in hot water and he struggled, trying to push away the cleric's hands.

  “Malcolm, hold him steady,” she commanded sharply. “Aiden, hold his hands. If he interrupts the healing...”

  Simon felt his hands being taken and held firmly away from his head.

  “Easy, my friend. Breathe. Trust in Clara,” Aiden said softly through Simon's pain.

  He focused on that; his trust in the cleric. She was his friend, after all. If she was hurting him, it was only because she had to.

  “Why is he bleeding from the nose!” a voice asked with a touch of panic. It was Aeris.

  Funny, Simon thought as he began to drift away. I didn't even see him and Kronk. I hope they're okay.

  “Damn it! We're losing him!” Clara exclaimed.

  Losing me? Simon would have laughed if he'd been able to. But it feels so comfortable. I'm drifting away. The pain is fading. And I'm just so sleepy.

  And with that last thought, the wizard embraced the blackness and knew no more.

  It was a struggle to find daylight. Simon was climbing, climbing, up a vast tunnel of darkness. Below him, he was sure he heard furtive scraping and chittering, sneaky noises of someone, or something, following him, sniffing in the deep, seeking prey.

  He scratched and clawed up through the blackness. In the far distance, a point of light seemed to offer safety, a promise of life, a haven. He just had to reach it.

  The sounds behind him were getting closer and he heaved and pulled himself upward. The tunnel was shrinking, tightening around him and the light seemed no nearer. Sweat streamed down his body; his robe was soaked and his feet kept slipping on the steep incline.

  Somehow he knew that something was reaching out for him, reaching out to snag his robe and pull him back into the black, where it could feed. He found the panicked strength for one last effort, one final desperate attempt to free himself from the depths.