The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla

by Scott D. Muller

  Dra’kor and company entered the yard, which by all accounts looked exactly as it had when he and Sheila had last been there. The food was desiccated and rotten, the pots were still over cold fires, and the tents still stood, rustling in the wind.

  “Beasts!” Dra’kor screamed as he pointed up the street and prepared his first spell.

  The first beast burst into flame and the second was quick to follow.

  The third beast had gotten by Dra’kor and was mid-leap at Brag when Dra’kor whirled around and blasted it into flame. It exploded, splattering Brag with chunks of flesh and gore, before what little remained hit the ground with a disgusting squishing sound.

  He wiped his face clean with the back of his sleeve and scowled, “Thanks, I think.”

  Dra’kor took it as a thank you and nodded.

  The entire band held their swords at the ready, but as quick as the attack had started, it stopped and the air went silent.

  The band moved together warily watching for an attack. They stood back to back and slowly circled while working their way across the field. When they reached halfway across, a flock of oversized ravens swooped out of the sky. The birds attacked the band, diving in, pecking, drawing blood and then flying away. Dra’kor tried to use his magic, but it was ineffective against the massive swarm. Dra’kor rolled across the ground and grabbed a shield. He held it over his head, trying to protect himself.

  Brag swat at the birds with long strokes of his sword, connecting with the beasts, but as many got through and bit him. He was bleeding from over a dozen places on his face and head.

  Dra’kor heard Sheila scream out and looked over to see birds tangled in her hair pecking at her scalp. He rushed over and beat them off with his hands. He grabbed them one-by- one and they burst into flame.

  Dra’kor covered her with his shield. “We need to find cover,” he shouted.

  There were just too many of them to push back. For every bird they slaughtered, two more took its place. Dra’kor and the band huddled together, trying to minimize their target. Dra’kor felt his anger build. He gathered his magic and instead of targeting a single bird, released it as a cloud. A group of twenty or so birds burst into flame and fell to the ground. He prepared himself again and tried to increase the size of the cloud. He released the magic and another thirty birds dropped to the ground. By the time he had released his spell a fourth time, there were no more birds to be seen and the dead crisps were layered ankle-deep at their feet.

  Brag stepped to his side and clapped him on the back. “Good job!”

  Toulereau nodded in his direction. Sheila uncovered her head and stared out, expecting more to attack at any time. She clung tightly to Dra’kor, cowering like a little child.

  “We need to gather these into a pile so that I can burn them using the magic,” said Dra’kor, while motioning with his hands. “I don’t want them coming back to life!”

  “You think they will?” Brag asked, his face paling.

  “I’m not going to take any chances!” Dra’kor muttered.

  The men kicked the birds with their feet until they had pushed them together. Dra’kor stepped back and cast his spell over the mass and watched as purple flame engulfed the beasts. Within seconds, only ash remained.

  “Now what?” one of the other men asked.

  “Now we stick together and cross to the keep,” Toulereau said.

  The band used caution as they made their way across the center yard toward the keep. It wasn’t long before they heard the singing. The dead had awakened. Sheila looked at Dra’kor.

  “I’m not sure I can handle this again,” she said, baring her head in his chest.

  “I’ll handle this,” he said. “I’ll send them back to halla as sure as I am standing here.”

  Dra’kor lifted his hands and prepared his spells. As soon as he rounded the corner, he let two big balls of wizards fire fly. The chained men burst into flames and the chains that bonded them melted. He stepped around the side of the turret and released his spells again.

  Then there was silence.

  Movement at the corner of his eye caused Dra’kor to spin and throw a fire ball up at the castle. The skidder easily avoided the blast and laughed. Dra’kor prepared another spell and let it loose.

  The beast sidestepped the second and laughed all the more.

  “Hey! Isn’t that Ned,” one of the men asked, pointing.

  It turned to face the man. “Ned is not here, there is just the master,” it hissed.

  The man lifted his sword and pointed it in the direction of the skidder. “It sure looked like Ned…but it ain’t,” he swore. “How do we kill it?”

  Dra’kor nodded. “You’re right, it ain’t Ned any more. Only magic will kill it.”

  The man’s face looked slightly green and his forehead was covered with sweat.

  “I see you brought your tasty lady friend,” it chittered. “I will enjoy sucking the juices from her body.”

  Sheila cowered, but placed her hand on her sword nonetheless.

  Dra’kor growled and let another blast fly as a second joined the first. They both easily got out of the way of the flaming ball.

  “You are slow, mage!’ They hissed.

  Dra’kor knew that his tactic wasn’t working. He turned to Forest and whispered in his ear. “Can you shoot that one with your bow? If we attach a rope to the arrow, maybe we can pull it down and I can kill it.”

  Forest nodded and pushed his long blond hair back under his hood. He turned his back and tied the long cord he had brought to the end of one of the arrows. He nodded to Dra’kor.

  Dra’kor prepared another fire ball and threw it in the direction of the skidder, who easily avoided the blast. While it was temporarily blinded, Forest drew his bow back and fired. The arrow sailed across the air and caught the unsuspecting creature in the front-leg.

  “Help me pull it down,” Forest screamed as he dropped the bow and grabbed the thick cord.

  Brag jumped to his side and lent a hand. The skidder clambered to gain purchase on the smooth rock of the castle wall, but although it could easily hold its own body weight up, the weight of the two men behind the cord pulled it off its feet. It slid down the wall, bounced on the tile roof below and fell to the ground.

  Dra’kor was already waiting for it and let his fireball loose in its face. The skidder burst into flame, its feet flailing in all directions.

  One of the other archers saw what Forest had done and rushed to mimic. He drew back the bowstring and let his shot fly, catching the other skidder by surprise. Before it could even react, Dra’kor spun his arms and let loose another spell which caught it, bursting it into flame as it careened off the roof.

  “You think there are any more?” Brag asked, spinning in circles with wide eyes.

  Dra’kor shrugged. “I guess we will find out as we go through the buildings.

  “I hope not,” mumbled Sheila. “Those demons are too human-like for me. They give me the willies!”

  “I never thought I would say that I’m glad to have a wizard as a friend,” Brag quietly said.

  Dra’kor cracked a thin grin, just catching his utterance. He wasn’t going to make a big deal about it.

  Toulereau had already entered the keep. The door had been breached and there were deep claw-marks around a hole that was big enough for someone to squeeze through. He wondered how long the animals had scratched at the door before gaining entry. Toulereau had to remove his sword and pack to squeeze in sideways. He entered on his own, sword held forward at the ready. Once inside he took a quick gander, unceremoniously unlatched the door and pushed it open.

  It only took them minutes to search the inner keep, each heading in a different direction. It was empty and the hidden tunnel was still sealed. Toulereau pulled the hidden catch and lifted the door with his sword. Brag threw a torch down the stone steps.

  It appeared to be empty. A small group of three entered the confined space and soon returned with bottles of wine. Brag
’s eyes glimmered and a smile spread across his face—for the first time in many days.

  “Just in case…” he said, waving a bottle.

  Dra’kor stepped down to the platform where Toulereau had hid for many days. Everything was as it had been. He rolled up his sleeves and prepared a strong spell and then sent it out like a cloud. It flared across the sewage, lighting the gases on fire and burning everything in its path. For a few moments, the squeals and cries of rats could be heard echoing down the tunnels as it spread in all directions. Dra’kor could clearly hear the scream of the sewer rats and saw that Sheila had placed her hands over her ears to block out the sound. Then there was silence.

  The sun had dropped below the horizon. Toulereau escorted everyone inside and closed the door. He and Dra’kor put the heavy beam that held the door closed back into place. “We should stay here until morning,” he said.

  “Is anyone willing to take the first watch?”

  Dra’kor nodded. “I’ll take it.”

  “Good,” he replied. He felt his pouch in his pocket. It felt light, almost empty. Tonight he would need to sleep. He would save his powder for later. He reasoned that he may need it.

  “I’ll take the second,” Brag offered.

  “I’ll take the third,” Sheila mumbled. “I won’t sleep much anyway.”

  “I’ll take the last then,” Toulereau said. “Now, let’s get something to eat. I know where there is a big store of cheese, bread and dried sausage.”

  The next day, the band awoke early and by noon they had checked most of the buildings in the town. They were surprised to find only a few wolven and a single catomen. Once they had dispensed of the creatures, gathered all the ash and dead bodies, Dra’kor lit them on fire using wizard’s fire. They cleaned out the fields and made room for the tents and wagons that should be arriving in a day or two.

  Toulereau took part of their band off to take inventory of the stocks. By Toulereau’s reasoning, they had enough food for the entire town to survive through the next winter, and that would be without the additional supplies from the fields and gardens that he intended to plant. Although they couldn’t plant enough within the walls to last a season, they could supplement what they had. If they were lucky, it would take Killoroy a while to figure out where they had gone and by then, the fields and gardens would be ready for harvest. He had noticed that some of the fields had been planted before the beasts had arrived, and even without the constant weeding and care, looked as though they would provide a bountiful harvest. Much of what had been plowed over the previous season had sprouted. Although not as densely planted as freshly fallowed fields, there would still be plenty of potatoes, cabbage, gourds and such.

  On the third day, Dra’kor, Brag, Forest and a few of the others rode out of the castle, heading back towards Three Rivers. By now, the line of wagons should have left and been well on their way. Toulereau had selected to stay behind and make preparations with Sheila. Granted, the gate was still down; they had unlatched the narrow doors that stood to its side. The tunnel like access wasn’t nearly wide enough for more than a single rider to pass at a time, and too short to ride through, but it was sufficient for a man to lead a horse by its reins down the narrow passage and out into the courtyard. The passage was lined with holes drilled through the rock blocks that could be accessed by a separate parallel hall. If need be, spears could be thrust through the holes to prevent invasion and the outside door could be latched by triggering a sliding gate from above. The door was bolted shut with long poles set into rock on either side of the door. The door was held tight and could not be opened from the outside.

  Dra’kor spotted the line of wagons creeping along the trail off in the distance from the top of the hill. When he squinted, he could make them out clearly. He counted fourteen wagons. That would be a hundred and forty people if they were fully loaded. He frowned. That meant that over thirty people had decided not to leave. He hoped that none of those he truly cared about had elected to stay behind. But if they did, he would honor their decision…and he would miss them when they were dead.

  Dra’kor turned his horse down the road and kicked it sharply in the sides. The horse took off at a full gallop.

  The band caught up to the wagons around two in the afternoon. Dra’kor hailed the driver of the front wagon, who was dressed in armor and hunkered down behind a thick wall of wood, barely giving him room to maneuver. Dra’kor pulled his horse alongside and greeted the man.

  “Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes,” the man said with a grin. “Everyone will feel better knowing you’re here.”

  Dra’kor nodded. “Did you run into any trouble along the way?”

  The man shook his head. “No, it’s been very uneventful. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  Dra’kor rode from wagon to wagon, greeting the people, giving them hope. He was glad to see that Grump had joined the group, but was disappointed to see that D’Arron was missing.

  He asked about her. Biggles shook his head. “She ain’t coming, sir! Said she wouldn’t leave her inn. I tried arguing with her, but you know how strong-willed she is. She said that if I saw you to tell you not to worry.”

  Dra’kor nodded and thanked the scout for his information. “How many stayed behind?”

  Biggles pondered for a while before answering. “I think there are thirty-two. Most of them are the new folks. The man who owns the new saloon and all of his girls stayed. Also a few of the carpenters and woodsmen. The rest…were woman and children sticking by their men.”

  Dra’kor’s face sagged.

  Biggles pulled the rim of his hat up and scratched his head. “Sorry sir, there just no convincing some folks.”

  Dra’kor spotted a familiar sight; a gaudy wagon with a metal roof pulled by an old plow horse. Dra’kor nudged his horse in the tinker’s direction.

  The old man, dressed in gold and purple, waved a hand as he approached.

  “Well met! I wondered if you ever made it to Three Rivers.”

  “Barrack!” Dra’kor nodded. “How was your trip?”

  “Edu’bar be the same…busy, filed with more lowlifes than usual. Tried to get me up to Five Peaks on my return trip, but there be a whopper of a storm sitting over the top of them, the sights of which I have never seen. The pass is still closed—snow was up to me axels. What are you about?”

  Dra’kor shrugged. “A couple hours after we parted ways, we lost Grit over the falls. We were attacked by the beasts.”

  Barrack whistled. “Damn!”

  “You were right about them wolves, tough as nails! Men’ak and I hunkered down in a stone hut we found up on the hill across from the falls. We hightailed it to Three Rivers the next day. Been there since.”

  “Sorry about yer friend.” Barrack smiled. “Wolven is bad news. Catomen are worse.”

  Dra’kor’s eyes widened. “You knew they were wolven?”

  Barrack winked. “I did. How did you find out?”

  “…but you didn’t say… I—”

  “—Well, if you were just merchants, you wouldn’t have known what I was talking about anyway would you? Only wizards and perchance a few scholars would remember them beasts of legend. Ye didn’t say ye was wizards or scholars when we met…as I recall.”

  Dra’kor spit, swore under his breath and scowled. “How did you know they weren’t just wolves?”

  Barrack smiled thinly. “Been around…I hear things. I’ve been a bard a long time. I know the songs and legends.”

  Dra’kor snorted, but wasn’t convinced. “If half the songs were true…”

  Barrack scoffed. “All the songs have a grain of truth about them.”

  “I suppose you’re right…”

  Barrack raised his brows, cleared his throat and lit his pipe. Dra’kor got a good whiff of the potent leaf as the man exhaled and blew the bluish-white smoke high into the air. His eyes glazed over.

  “Seems stronger this year…” He coughed and took another deep pull on the pipe, holding the
smoke in as his eyes bulged. He sputtered and blew the smoke out into the still air and watched it rise.

  Barrack changed the subject. “Ye said ye lost one of yer friends, Grit. Was he the big one with the tattoos?”

  “The same.”

  “Pity. He seemed like a nice lad.”

  Dra’kor’s voice cracked. “The best.”

  Barrack pushed his hat back from his face and got serious. “I heard ye was a wizard.”

  Dra’kor nearly choked. “I…news travels fast…”

  Barrack looked him over head to toe. “Is it true? Ye don’t have the medallion, so ye ain’t a traveler.”

  Dra’kor nodded. “True enough. Had the medallions, but they aren’t worth the metal their printed on.”

  Barrack hid his surprise. “No?”

  Dra’kor starred into his eyes. “No. We’re certainly not travelers.”

  “Didn’t know there were wizards about that weren’t travelers…” Barrack harrumphed, tapped the burnt plug out of his pipe, and set about refilling it. “We should talk when ye have some time.”

  Dra’kor’s eyes narrowed. “Should we?”

  Barrack rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Only ifin ye be wanting to know what’s going on in the rest of the realms.”

  “Maybe tonight, but it may have to wait until we get to Toulereau.”

  Dra’kor turned his horse, rode off, and led the wagons for a while. As night approached, he found a wide meadow and circled the wagons tight. He remembered how they had fought when they brought in the group from Big Drop Falls at Haagen’s Cross.

  Dra’kor led a group of men out into the woods where they gathered enough firewood to cook their food and keep the area lit. They made several fires about ten feet outside the wagon circle. Most folks decided to stay put and didn’t move out of the safety of their enclosures, except to relieve themselves. The sound of a single lute filled the air as a bard who had just shown up in town played a lonesome melody.