The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla

by Scott D. Muller

  Dra’kor hid his grin with his glass. He had been charming them at night, so they were growing faster than normal. Even then, he knew they didn’t have enough to feed this many people, and the forests were getting hunted out. Each day, the hunters had to wander farther away to find game. Soon, they would feel it in their bellies. He hoped that with the grass growing again, they would have a goodly number of calves and chicken. Trouble was, it took a bit for them to fatten up. They needed food now!

  Toulereau walked through the door, saw Dra’kor and made a beeline in his direction, pushing his way among the crowded tables. People moved out of the way, apologizing for bumping him. Men’ak saw him coming and quickly got to his feet, made up an excuse about having to go relieve himself, and brushed by him on his way out, nodding politely. He just didn’t care for the elf. Not that he had ever done or said anything wrong—he just didn’t like elves that much…never had.

  “There you are,” the elf said to Dra’kor. “I’ve been looking for you all morning!”

  “Joining us?” Brag asked, pushing Men’ak’s empty chair back with his foot.

  Toulereau sat down, “I think I will.”

  He motioned to Grump to bring him an ale and scooted his chair up to the table. “How is the wall coming along?”

  Brag pushed his hat up out of his eyes. “Fine, should be done today. They were setting the last three logs about an hour ago. They were just pounding down the soil and soaking it good with water. Once it dries out, she’ll hold whatever gets thrown at ’er.”

  Grump picked up a full glass of ale that he had already poured and carried it over to their table.

  “I saw the men working with the logs and belts. It looks like back-breaking work!” Toulereau replied as he took the glass from Grump and took a big swig.

  Brag smirked, lifted his hat, and ran his free- hand through his sweaty hair. “It is, m’lord. That log weighs over three-hundred pounds, takes muscles and sweat to lift it up, but when it hits that damp dirt, it compacts it nicely. It’s the only way to do the job right. At least now we have enough men to spell those who get tired.”

  “Given all that, you’re going to finish sooner than I expected,” Toulereau said, smiling. “Good work!”

  “The men have been hard at it non-stop for the past four days.”

  “And the lodges, you’ll be able to start them soon?”

  Brag took another pull off his ale. “I was thinking of having them start the first two later today. It depends on whether they got those logs split that we cut down in the forest yesterday. I hate using green wood, but we don’t have the time to dry them.”

  Toulereau nodded. “We do what we can.”

  ”Green wood dulls the tools something fierce. I guess the Smithy will be busy!” Brag chuckled.

  Dra’kor leaned in. “I don’t understand why we are building here! We’re going to run out of room about as soon as we finish building. Wouldn’t we be better off at your castle?”

  Toulereau frowned and vehemently shook his head side-to-side. “No, I think we are safer here.”

  Dra’kor could sense the tension in the elf. He had a grip on the table edge and his knuckles were white. He could see the sweat beading on his forehead. Something was bothering him, but he just couldn’t figure out what.

  “Why? I don’t understand your reasoning. It makes no sense to me.”

  Toulereau reflected a bit on the question. “Well, Dra’kor, while I can grant you that the castle is big, we know that it is filled with beasts and such. We’d have to clean it out. I’m not sure that the men we have are ready to face their cursed kin. It might be…traumatic.”

  “But is that a good enough reason?”

  “I think it is! Besides, who knows what else lurks there. My entire army couldn’t keep the evil out. I lost a garrison of good men… honorable men.” Toulereau said, lowering his voice and growling his response. “I couldn’t guarantee their safety…”

  “Some of us could scout ahead and clean the castle out before the main group arrived,” Dra’kor said, all but volunteering.

  “Or end up dead,” Toulereau reasoned, then bitterly added, “or worse.”

  He looked Dra’kor in the eye. “I know you mean well, but trust me here. It isn’t worth the risk!”

  Dra’kor raised his voice. “We will be out of space and food soon. Isn’t it worth the chance? We could end up much safer.”

  Several people in the tavern turned to see who was causing such a ruckus. More than a few eyes went wide when people realized he had raised his voice to their Lord. Dra’kor felt a little embarrassed. He lowered his head and took another long draw from his ale.

  Toulereau’s stern face was thin-lipped. “Look, there are other issues. Moving this many people isn’t easy. We would be very vulnerable to attacks. I think they’d pick us off one-by-one. There are only two roads to get to the castle; one is very long and indefensible, the other is shorter, but the road is narrow and very treacherous. Too many will die on the way. Beside, fields for the farmers are farther away from the castle, risky when wolven attack. You’ve been there!”

  “I remember…we…I almost died last time.”

  Toulereau’s head dipped and he pointed an accusatory finger. “So why do you think it will be easier with farmers, women and children, eh?”

  “Well, we can’t just wait here until we grow weak and die…” Dra’kor face turned bright red in frustration.

  Brag visibly tensed. He couldn’t believe that Dra’kor was talking this way to a Lord. He buried his face in his glass and tried to block out the hostile words.

  “Calm yourself!” Toulereau leaned in to speak softly in Dra’kor’s ear. “I’m not suggesting that. What I am suggesting is that now, is not the right time.”

  Dra’kor visibly relaxed a little. “I still don’t like it…”

  Toulereau put his hand on Dra’kor’s arm. “Neither do I!”

  Dra’kor raised a brow, “Truth be told?”

  “…Truth!”

  Dra’kor was surprised at the admission. Toulereau hoped that the subject was dropped, but Dra’kor wasn’t yet ready to concede.

  “Since I am not from around here, can you tell me, exactly how long is long for those roads?”

  “With loaded wagons, I expect it would take the better part of three long days traveling the long way; two good days going the short.”

  Brag shook his head and whistled. “M’lord is right. That’s a long time to be strung out on a narrow road. We have women and children…”

  “You said the road was treacherous,” Dra’kor said, unconvinced. “What makes it so treacherous?”

  Toulereau’s tried to hide his ire. “The long road is wide open. It travels across large meadows. There is nowhere to hide and the enemy can attack from all sides. For the short road, it’s a myriad of things. Spring runoff, the road is narrow—impassable most of the year. There are steep cliffs on one side and a shear drop on the other; it tends to washout. There’s a section that runs through the lowlands that is more like a swamp this time of year. The road isn’t made for wagons.”

  “Well, I’m gonna leave this to you two to figure out,” Brag said, as he drained his glass and stood up. “I need to get back to work!”

  Dra’kor and Toulereau watch him go. Toulereau knit his fingers together and leaned in to the table. “Look, Dra’kor…I understand where you are coming from, I truly do. In the long run, the castle makes plenty of sense, but now is not the right time.”

  Toulereau could see that Dra’kor was obviously irritated. There was an edge to his voice and his eyes glowered.

  He blurt out, “We will run out of food here, the castle has supplies. We can plant within the castle walls, in the yard! We can keep the livestock in too. It’s defensible. Here…we have nothing.”

  “But the losses to get there will be intolerably high! Give me time to train folks and give them time to rest and get adjusted. That’s all I’m asking. They’ve been through much. W
e are safe here for the time being.”

  Dra’kor snorted, “Safe?”

  Toulereau shrugged.

  “I disagree with you…we’ll just be uprooting them again if we give them time to feel at home,” Dra’kor forcefully said.

  “Listen Dra’kor,” Toulereau replied, steel in his voice. “I respect your opinion, I really do, but my decision is made.”

  Dra’kor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the diminutive elf. “It’s not the right decision…”

  Toulereau stared back and was silent. Neither man was willing to back down. Several uncomfortable seconds passed. A roar came from across the room and temporarily distracted the men. They watched as a man entering the tavern was greeted with claps across his back and with wide smiles. Their attention quickly returned to their discussion.

  “May I remind you that I am the Lord of this realm…”

  Dra’kor’s face turned red and he cursed under his breath. He tried to calm himself down, but he knew if he stayed he would say things better left unsaid. Dra’kor pushed back his chair, drained his mug and excused himself.

  Men’ak was waiting for him when he exited the tavern.

  “Well?”

  Dra’kor scowled and walked right past his friend.

  “We’re staying, aren’t we?” Men’ak asked, as he hurried to catch up.

  Dra’kor turned to Men’ak and cursed. “…for now! But this isn’t over.”

  Tala’fein

  Grit swung his staff. The movement was a blur and X’all barely reacted in time to counter the attack. X’all rolled to the side and lunged with his staff, aiming for Grit’s middle section.

  Grit easily shifted sideways, avoiding the staff and anticipated the elf’s next move, moving his staff to block the reverse he knew was coming. X’all had already committed to the movement and Grit used that to his advantage by shifting his balance to his left foot, preparing to launch a counter attack.

  X’all barely saw the sweep in time to leap over and avoid having his feet upended. He landed awkwardly—off balance—and had to rush his next move to avoid an overhead chop he knew was coming. The blow was hard and sent shockwaves up his arms.

  X’all grunted and rotated his staff over his head and prepared to cut across Grit’s jaw. He swung. Grit leaned back on his rear foot ever so slightly, allowing the staff to whistle past his nose by fractions of an inch. X’all swore, he had been overconfident and the force of his motion moved him off balance again.

  Grit lifted his staff quickly and struck back and forth, catching the elf both in his ribs and on his right shoulder. The pain numbed his arms and the feeling in his left hand went numb. He knew he couldn’t last much longer and as he struggled to pull a deep breath into his lungs, sharp pains erupted from his bruised ribs.

  X’all saw that Grit wasn’t even breathing hard and watched intently as he easily danced with the staff, swirling it in an unending pattern. The staff struck out and X’all countered quickly by raising his staff.

  X’all groaned as his staff slammed into Grit’s—his grip was tenuous, especially in his left hand and the staff snapped and vibrated hard when struck. His body was covered with sweat and he had bruises on his legs and arms. X’all grunted, their battle had been going on for well over half an hour. X’all recalled when he could best the wizard in less than the blink of an eye with one hand. Now? He considered himself fortunate to win.

  Grit saw an opening and twisted his staff in a small rolling motion over X’all’s arm and connected solidly with his exposed chin. X’all’s head shot backwards and he tumbled to the ground. Grit stepped forward and pushed his staff into the elf’s chest.

  “I surrender,” X’all said, throwing up his empty hands.

  Grit grinned and extended a hand to help the elf to his feet. Grit had beat X’all in practice thrice in a row, and had bested him in seven out of nine battles.

  X’all was shocked at the way Grit used the staff and had been forced to reexamine his assumptions about the human. Grit had an uncanny ability to anticipate his opponent’s moves and use the staff and blade in ways that were deadly effective and nearly impossible to counter.

  None of the elves in the village would practice with him, claiming that it was beneath them to fight a human. X’all knew the truth. They couldn’t hope to beat him, and many of them had been training for centuries. There was great shame in being beat by a human, it was called no’wanæ, which roughly translated to; beat by a child. X’all wasn’t sure that Grit was only a human; he had his doubts.

  The two walked under the large shade tree that bordered the small clearing where they practiced. Grit pulled out a water skin and drank deeply before he tossed it to X’all.

  “I think I will need to hit the baths when we are finished,” he said, sniffing under his arms and wrinkling his nose.

  Grit nodded. “Me too. I’m a bit sore from all the practicing we’ve been doing the last couple of days and I too smell.

  X’all sat cross legged on the grass and chewed on a nut and fruit bar that the girls of the village made with honey and maple syrup. The sticky treats supplied plenty of energy after a full day of training. Grit preferred to chew on strips of dried meat, but he graciously accepted the bar from X’all and ate it in silence.

  When Grit had arrived, he was heavy, some might even say portly. Now, he was ripped. His abs showed cleanly and his muscles rippled. The combination of daily exercise and the diet of fruit, vegetables and lean meat had pulled the pounds off his frame. The workouts had filled what went missing with lean strong muscle. The women of the village looked on with admiration when he walked past; a far different response than he had received when he first arrived.

  After a short break, Grit and X’all headed down the narrow path toward the baths. It was very early in the morning and they had arrived just as Kayla and Shar’ran. Shar’ran walked up to Grit.

  “Good morning Grit!” he called out as his eyes caught sight of X’all. “X’all, you are bruised. Are you healthy?”

  X’all grumbled, dropped his bakree and jumped into the hot soothing waters. Shar’ran grinned and shook his head. “It must have been something I said,” he laughed.

  Grit dropped his bakree and joined the baths. More than a few admiring heads turned his direction, but Grit was getting accustomed to the stares and comments.

  Grit slid easily through the water until he came to the falls, which dropped over the rocks above. He moved beneath and let the extra hot waters from the source above rain over his sore shoulders. It felt good as he flexed his arms and worked out the kinks from his morning’s training. Kayla dropped her gown and stepped into the water. She luridly swayed her hips as she strode out into the warm water. The heated mist rose up from the pool and made it look as if she were floating on a cloud. Grit stared. Everyone else stared too. She dipped under and then stood, letting the water cascade over her shoulders.

  It had taken Grit several weeks before he got accustomed to being naked around the fit elves. He had been very self-conscious at first, but as he packed on muscle and leaned out, he grew more at ease with their stares. The girls stared because of his muscular frame and endowment, the boys, well—they stared because he was different and was so much bigger than they were. He was bigger everywhere.

  Kayla moved next to him, letting her leg slide up along his under the water. Grit felt her smooth skin and muscles ripple. It wasn’t long before he felt himself stir. He grinned like an idiot and moved to the side.

  “Are you ignoring me, Grit?” she asked coyly, as she moved to straddle him.

  Grit dipped under the water and grabbed her. She squealed and splashed him with water when he made it back to the surface, tossing her over his shoulder.

  Shar’ran looked on in amusement. X’all grumbled, shaking his head.

  “What is wrong with you?” Shar’ran asked.

  X’all stared, trying to decide how to respond. “I am afraid that I must give up teaching the lad.”

  Shar
’ran nodded, “You have other duties more pressing? I am not aware of any.”

  X’all shook his head, “I have nothing left to teach him. He has surpassed my abilities.”

  Shar’ran listened intently. He had been waiting for this day. “I am a bit surprised with what he has accomplished in his short time here.”

  “As am I…”

  Shar’ran sighed. “Then I believe it is time for me to take him under my wing for training.”

  This surprised X’all. Mighty as Shar’ran was, it had been centuries since he had been a Blademaster. “Do you remember the forms?”

  Shar’ran’s mouth quivered at the edges. “Ah, you misunderstand what I intend to teach him.”

  X’all had a puzzled look on his face.

  “I have believed for quite some time that our lad here is a War Wizard. We have discussed it at length. I believe that now is the time for me to see if my intuition is correct.”

  “War wizard?” X’all echoed. “I thought you were kidding.”

  Shar’ran looked at X’all with an incredulous expression across his face. “Seriously? That is what you thought? He has shown all the classic signs. It explains how he has mastered the weapons and how he has mastered the forms. If I am not mistaken, it is part of his gift.”

  X’all lowered his voice to avoid being overheard, “Then you intend to teach him the spells?”

  Shar’ran leaned close, “I do. I think he is ready. He has already learned the life-spell and the spell to move quicker. I think he is ready to learn the others too.”

  X’all glowered and splashed water over his face. “There will be disagreement from the council about this.”

  “Mayhap, but it matters not. It must be done. The spirit of Aaron has revealed that we are soon to face threats of old.”

  X’all grunted. They were always about to face threats of old!

  “I mean it...”

  X’all stared into the ancient elf’s eyes. “It is not that I disagree. It is that I foresee a challenge coming from those who have trained long and hard and have not been given their chance.”