Zedd’aki’s eyes shot open wide.
Warvyn waved a hand. “Calm down...she paid handsomely for her summoning and I’m afraid I have been less than committed to her quest.”
“And what was her quest?”
“Why, to bring down the Keep,” Warvyn said, “and ultimately…to destroy magic.”
“But why?”
Warvyn shrugged. “I do not know her history. For the life of me I cannot place her at Ror.”
Zedd’aki muttered. “I would think that a dark one would consider life a premium and not risk it by attacking the Keep.”
“That would be most prudent, but I do not think that she considers herself at risk. She is an arrogant bitch, full of self-importance.”
Zedd’aki’s eyes met Warvyn’s.
“I do not think she considers herself a dark mage,” Warvyn added. “I believe she seeks retribution and considers her quest a holy one.”
Zedd’aki’s eyes grew worried.
“She seems to have no love loss for her fallen friends of years long past. I get the feeling that she was betrayed by both sides.”
“She has confessed this?”
“Not in so many words. She has let comments slip...”
“Can you describe her?”
“Lusty, voluptuous, black hair, fine features.”
Zedd’aki thought back to those days, but couldn’t remember any who fit Warvyn’s description. Mayhap Ja’tar would remember more clearly. He had been older in those days and more focused on the war.
Zedd’aki’s lip quivered, but he could think of nothing to say in response. He had more questions that he had answers. “Does she have a name? All the known dark ones were rounded up and...”
“Eradicated…I know,” Warvyn said, with a bittersweet smile. “I know her only as the Master—she has never revealed her true name.”
“Curious. Have you met her before, mayhap prior to Ror?”
“Perchance, but I do not believe she shows her true self. The dark magic can be used to change the appearance of things. If she survived Ror and the Cleansing, she would have been thought dead or near death. She would battle the magic as we all do. I assume she has taken another’s body as her own.”
Zedd’aki nodded. “But you are sure she is a dark mage.”
“Most certain. She serves the Dark Lord of the underworld. She wears his mark. But I do not believe she has completed her sacrifice. She still has compassion.”
That made Zedd’aki shudder.
“She planned our invasion by delivering the book to this boy you mention. She knew I would come for the book. It wouldn’t surprise me if she herself didn’t assure that we were found-out.”
Zedd’aki pounded his fist in his hand, “I cannot believe the boy summoned a demon. He had no magic. The magic wouldn’t come.”
“He only summoned an imp; a simple spell if you know the chant and can draw the runes. I substituted another of my own liking for the pitiful creature he summoned. A vixen named Mica.”
“And she did what?”
“As I understand, she tempted the boy and sent him on his way.”
“On his way?”
“Through a gate she found in a cave across the way. Even I had forgotten it existed.”
Zedd’aki’s jaw dropped. He had totally forgotten about the old gate that was in the cave across the valley from the Keep. A smile spread to his face, and then his brows narrowed. The boy was not ready to face the challenges. At least he was alive...for now.
“I have not seen Mica. I assume that my brother found a way out of the Keep and took her with him. He was last spotted entering the Chamber. We broke in, but did not find him there. It is quite possible that the news of his sighting was in error.”
The news caught Zedd’aki by surprise. He had not known that Ja’tar had escaped. The air hung silent. It was Zedd’aki who brokered the subject, offering an olive branch.
“Let’s assume that you speak the truth. What do you propose?”
“I want to trade you, the rest of the wizards and the slaves from Ror for the book.”
“That is all?”
Warvyn answered resolutely, “No.”
Warvyn let the word hand in the still air.
Zedd’aki felt his anger rising. He should have known better than to trust Warvyn.
Warvyn continued. “I wish for you and your wizards to join me in destroying the dark mage. Neither of us will rest until she has been disposed of for good.”
Zedd’aki’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. This was unexpected. His eyes narrowed. If Warvyn needed their help, then the situation was far more dire than he let on. He wondered what Warvyn was hiding.
Zedd’aki shook his head side to side, “I do not know if I will be able to convince Ja’tar to cooperate.”
Warvyn nodded. “My brother is pigheaded.”
“He will not be happy to see you,” Zedd’aki said, as a smirk filled his face. Rue the day they met face to face—still…it would be something to witness!
“I don’t suppose he will. He must remember that he made me into what I am. I had no choice.”
“You had a choice,” Zedd’aki growled back.
“Is that what you think? You are austerely mistaken. The Ten wished me dead, and the dark ones feared me for my white magic. I was being hunted and attacked by both sides.”
“You could have chosen differently…”
“No, I could not. Do you not remember that there was a time when we studied both light and dark? My brother is very-well versed in the dark. I chose to exclusively study the dark and became very accomplished; more accomplished than any of the Ten. When the Ten decided that the dark was too dangerous, they outlawed all of us and the art.”
Zedd’aki listened. He had never heard the story before.
“Those that became the dark wanted to rule man and have them bow and serve. I didn’t agree with them, yet I was not accepted back by the light. I tried to reason with my father, but he sided with the Ten. When they attacked the dark at the Battle of the Blood, I had nowhere to go. I tried to leave and walk the realms far off, but I was hunted by both sides. After narrowly escaping death several times, I summoned the Dark Lord of the Underworld and negotiated my position.”
“Are you telling me that we turned on you…?”
“Yes, everyone turned on me. The only option I was offered by the Ten was being Stilled and having my ability to cast magic—of any kind—purged from my being. That was not a choice. It is akin to asking someone to stop breathing air! Ja’tar had demanded that I give up magic; my own brother turned on me.”
Zedd’aki had heard stories of wizards being Stilled, but personally, he had never witnessed the rites. From what he recalled, those few that had been Stilled had become vegetables, not much different from the Travelers who got consumed by their orbs.
“I have heard of this ‘Stilling’ you speak of. Nasty business…”
Warvyn nodded. “What’s done, is done!”
Dra’kor, Men’ak and Brag looked down into the valley from the trail that wrapped the peak. They could see Big Drop falls below, and the long line of wagons on the far side. They had horses this time, and the trip had taken them but a short hour.
Men’ak leaned in, “I told you we shouldn’t have asked Toulereau how we could help.”
Dra’kor couldn’t help but smile.
Brag sat on his horse cockeyed. He was still hung-over from his heavy drinking with his new card-playing friends. His hands cart-wheeled as he slid from the saddle. He grabbed at the saddle-horn with both hands and made a desperate lunge to pull himself erect.
Men’ak leaned in. “I wonder where all these folks come from.”
Brag snapped out of his comatose state and huffed, “They come from all over. The last group came from Lowrock, the group before were from Bakersville. I hear that these are from up near Five Peaks, a little town called Isolation.” Brag sniffed and broke into a laugh, looking at the lads.
“What?” Men’ak asked.
“Isolation? Who would ever name their town that…might as well call it Desperation or Nohope!”
Dra’kor kicked his horse to a trot and wove his way down the trail. Someone in the line of wagons saw the men on the hill and began shouting and waving their hands. Dra’kor wished they wouldn’t do that and cursed under his breath. All that yelling and screaming accomplishes nothing but attracting more of the beasts.
When they reached the river, they immediately saw the problem. A wagon was stuck between the raft and the shore with a broken wheel. The horses were straining against the yoke, but were unable to free the wagon from the mud.
“You there,” Dra’kor shouted. “The two of you pick up that axel. You’ll never get it to shore trying to drag it!”
The two men nodded and threw their backs into lifting the wagon up. They groaned, managing to lift it free of the raft, where the broken axel had wedged itself deeply between two logs. The men staggered as the weight of the wagon shifted and the horses found footing, pulling the wagon onto the shore. The men followed stepping into the ice cold water, soaking their peasant boots.
The men collapsed in the grass on the bank, exhausted from the work. Dra’kor shouted orders and the men moved reluctantly to comply.
“Lash the axel.”
“Toss me a line, we’ll pull together.”
“Unload the barrels from the wagon, there’s too much weight in the rear!”
“Lift the back of the wagon, on three. One..two…”
Working together, it took them less than five minutes to get the wagon off to the side where it wouldn’t be in the way of the others. The raft was already headed back their way with another load; a wagon, horses and more people. Dra’kor was thankful that the party had several strong men with them and that he wouldn’t have to pull the ropes. He remembered the last time and absentmindedly rubbed his arms.
“Hurry along folks! Evening’s coming quick. The beasts come out if force after sunset,” he shouted.
The women had worried looks on their faces and clutched tightly to their young-uns. The men had deep furrows above their brows and constantly scanned the horizon with wide eyes. Dra’kor had seen that look before; Barrack had that look in his eyes when he had described the beasts.
“You there,” Dra’kor said, pointing. “You need to get that wagon rolling toward the town.”
The man stood defiantly. “I’ll not leave my kin here. We leave as a group!”
Dra’kor shouted back. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to back up at the hill and that’s open ground. The beasts will tear you to shreds!”
The man looked up and his eyes traced the short, steep switch-backs on the side of the mountain.
“We’ll take care of your group. But you, sir, need to move now!”
The man climbed on his buckboard and shook the reins. The horses strained against their breastcollars as the traces pulled tight on the whippletree. The wagon lurched forward and started slowly up the trail toward the steep hill. The wagon creaked and moaned in protest.
As soon as the wagon moved off, the next was rolling to shore. Men groaned and used poles to push the wagon off the ferry. Once the wagon was off the ferry, men led the horses to the front and began to hook up the harnesses. The raft headed back across a fifth time since they had arrived.
Dra’kor looked at the sun, which was already setting behind the tall cliffs on either side of the river. He road over to Men’ak and leaned over. “We are running out of time. By the time the last wagon gets across, it will be near dark.”
Men’ak’s face filled with fear. He vividly remembered the night they had spent on the hill not more than a few hundred yards from here. He couldn’t help but look up the hill at the small hut which still stood in place.
“What can we do?” Men’ak asked.
“I’m not sure there is anything we can do, but keep them moving.”
“Keep moving folks!” Men’ak yelled. “Daylight is waning and the beasts are on their way.”
Dra’kor grabbed the attention of one of the men pulling the ferry across the river. “Make sure the wagons come across first! The riders on horseback can catch up quickly, but those wagons will need extra time to get up the hill.”
The man nodded and headed across for another load. When he reached the other side, Dra’kor could see him pointing and explaining the situation to a man who appeared to be in charge. The man nodded his agreement and waved his sword high so that Dra’kor would see his sign.
The last wagon was on the ferry when they heard the first howls of the wolves. The men doubled their pace, practically running across the raft with the tow rope. The horses on the far side were getting antsy. They pranced and pawed at the ground, bucking their riders who struggled to maintain control. They tried talking to the animals with calm voices, and pulled the reins tight, forcing the bit to bite deeply into the horse’s mouth. The man in the dark jacket shouted his orders and the men pulled their weapons as they watched the hills.
The last wagon was small and a full six men ran out into the water and pulled it to shore. The raft was headed back across before the horses had been unloaded, forcing them to jump into the swift water and swim to shore. They barely made it before they too had swept down near the precipitous edge of the falls. Dra’kor shook his head in dismay, he had feared that the current would grab them and they would face the same fate as Grit.
Men’ak pointed up the road on the far side where a group of five wolves had broken through the trees and were charging down toward the people.
”Hurry! He shouted as he pointed. “Wolves! The wolves are coming!”
The men quickly urged their horses onto the ferry and they pushed off from shore without even lashing them in place. The men stood holding their reins tight and talking softly into their ears, trying to calm them. The horsed whinnied and pawed at the deck. They knew the wolves were coming, they could smell them. The men pulled hard, trying to get the momentum of the raft working with them in the direction of the far shore.
“Here they come!’ shouted one of the men.
Three men handed their reins to their friends and took up defensive positions at the back of the raft. Their hands juddered as they drew their swords and waved them menacingly at the wolves running down the road.
The first wolven reached the shore and jumped. It sailed over the water and landed with its paws on the edge of the raft. It bared its teeth and pawed at the deck with razor sharp claws, trying to gain purchase. The man nearest, swung his blade down. It made a horrible cracking sound as it cut through the front legs of the animal. The wolf howled in pain and let go of the raft; is body was quickly caught by the current and swept over the side.
The next wolf jumped for the raft, but they had already moved out of distance and the creature landed in the icy water and was pulled under and swept over the falls. None of the other wolves jumped. They stood on shore and howled. It wasn’t long before they were answered by a howl from Dra’kor’s side of the river, albeit it was far off.
“We have to go now!” Dra’kor said. “The others will have to catch up when they are able. We need to get the wagons up that hill.”
Men’ak turned to the group of men. “Who has the fastest horse?”
“I do,” came a shout.
Dra’kor turned to the sound and saw a man waving an arm.
“You need to ride as fast as you can to town and tell them that we are being chased by wolven! Do you understand me?”
“You mean wolves…”
“No, wolven. Remember that word…they’ll know what you mean.”
The man nodded.
“You tell them we need help.”
The man jumped on his horse and kicked the horse hard in the ribs. The animal grunted and started running up the trail toward the mountain. Jumping over the large rocks as its hooves slid into the rough scree. The hill was rough and the horse almost toppled several times. To his credit, the m
an shifted his weight and urged the animal on.
Brag shook his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s going to get lost, he will. I’m willing to bet he’s going to take the right fork and end up down by Sliver Lakes. By the time he figures it out, it’ll be too late for him to make town before midnight.”
“You’re probably right about that. I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe you should chase after him and make sure he and the first wagons get headed in the right direction.”
Brag nodded, removed his hat and wiped his brow and deadpanned. “Good luck with the rest of them…”
Men’ak smiled, “Thanks Brag!”
Dra’kor leaned over and whispered in Men’ak’s ear. “He doesn’t mean it…”
“What?” Men’ak asked, oblivious. Dra’kor rolled his eyes and grinned at Brag, shrugging his shoulders.
“See you round, Brag! Let them know were on our way!”
“Will do!” Brag shouted as he turned his horse and rode off.
Dra’kor road up the trail, weaving between the wagons and those that walked. When he reached the switchbacks, he looked back over his shoulder and saw that the ferry had safely made it to this side and the men were quickly unloading the horses. They would be caught up within the train of wagons within ten minutes, maybe less.
He road ahead and barked both orders and words of encouragement.
“Get out of the wagons!”
“Until the beasts arrive, everyone walks.”
“You’re doing great, keep it up!”
“We can’t exhaust the horse. Come on! Move it!”
Reluctantly, the riders got out of the wagons. There was grumblings, but they stopped when the man in the black coat arrived and started cussing people out. Dra’kor was grateful to have his help. He was even more forceful than Dra’kor. He ordered the people to help push the wagon.
“Thank you, sir,” Dra’kor said, riding up to the man.
The man nodded. “Sometimes people can’t think through a situation. I’m glad we had your help! By the way, the name is Cedric.”
“Pleased to meet you Cedric. I’m Dra’kor and he’s Men’ak.”
The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla Page 16