Legend of the Sword Bearer: Tempest Chronicles Book 1

by Jeremy Fabiano

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m a lot better now. Like a huge weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. ”

  “What happened? Who is Samantha?”

  “She’s the daughter of the mage in Aspen. When I came here, she taught me how to do magic and we fell in love.” Garstil looked up at the sky for a few moments. “Farheen raided Aspen one night, and I fought him. I stopped his men, but he was too strong for us. He killed her right in front of me, and I was powerless to stop him. I swore to her father that I’d kill Farheen someday. Now she can finally rest.”

  “Damn, dude,” I said. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

  “Thanks. Nothing to do about it now. I hunted Farheen for almost six months. I don’t even remember how many of his men I killed, but, they wouldn’t give him up. Feared him more than they feared me. So I slaughtered every single one of them. I didn’t stop until I ran out of enemies to kill. It was touch and go for a few nights. I just wanted to die. Even succeeded once. Ended up respawning back at Agamor’s village with a massive headache.”

  “Holy shit.” I breathed. “How’d you come out of that? When we met you seemed pretty calm and collected?”

  Garstil snorted. “Noslen found me in some tavern one night, drunk out of my skull. It took a few days to sober me up. I figured I could drink myself into a coma or something. Afterward, I just felt empty. Without a purpose. Then he sent me to help you.” Garstil smiled, if barely. “I’ll send a letter to her father when we reach Haran. He deserves to know that Samantha can rest in peace now.” He took another pull from the canteen and handed it back to me. “Thanks for listening. I guess it really does help to talk to someone about such things.”

  I shook my head. “Anytime, man. I’m glad I can help.” I paused for a moment. “Listen, we’re gonna head out with these people and guard them to Haran. They said they’d pay us. Figure you’re down?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “We could use the coin.” I nodded.

  We traveled for several days through the desert, stopping to rest as necessary. We found an abandoned caravan of wagons along the way and stopped to investigate. We recovered some arrows and a few weapons as well as silk bolts and preserved spices. We sold off the silk and most of the spices to the caravan merchants.

  Morogan channeled the spirit of one of the corpses which we found under one of the half-buried wagons. “They came at night,” said Morogan. “They came while we slept. Slaughtered us like animals in the night. Those that were weak rose and joined their ranks. They ride for Haran, seeking an artifact buried in the desert. Please, avenge us.” Morogan slumped forward and then took a deep breath. “Not able to hold spirit. He tired, want rest.”

  I nodded. “Let him go, he gave us what we needed,” I said. We buried his body in the desert and continued on our way.

  A few uneventful days later, we arrived at the city of Haran. Large sandstone walls rose from the desert floor. According to the caravan leader, the walls provided protection from the massive sandstorms that frequented this area. It also kept the city safe from the occasional raids which were also quite frequent. We were paid fifty silver each, and they went on their way to unload their goods.

  “Let’s head for the inn and secure our rooms for the evening,” I said. “No telling if they’ll be overbooked or not with the caravan arriving.”

  Morogan nodded. “Aba have good idea. Maybe crowded. Maybe share room.”

  “In all likelihood, we should rent a room with multiple beds. There may be some safety concerns in this city,” said Sai.

  “Aye, Haran can pretty rough at times,” said Thasgrin.

  We opened the creaky door and went inside. Morogan tensed next to me and laid his hand on his mace and shield. The entire room held their breath, on edge, and I could feel power thrum in the air, held taut and ready. We were in a room full of necromantic cultists.

  “Won’t be any need for violence tonight, friends,” said the barkeep. He was an old, weathered man with deep brown sunbaked skin and a military buzz cut. I arched an eyebrow in question. “Yeah, we know who you are, don’t care much either. We heard what you did for our supply caravan, and for that, we owe ya big time. Without those supplies, we’d not last the month. Every man, woman, and child in Haran owe you their lives.”

  “You’re all Dead Hand cultists?” I asked. “The whole city?”

  “Yup, sure are,” said the barkeep. “We don’t want any trouble, just want to follow our own beliefs. That’s why we built a city in the desert. We leave folks alone, and they return the favor. Everyone’s happy.”

  I nodded. The four of us sat down on old stools at the bar, and the crowd of people visibly relaxed. The thrum of power in the air also subsided.

  “See?” asked the barkeep with a chuckle. “Everyone gets along, and no one gets hurt. Way it oughta be…”

  “I agree,” I said, looking around. “So, can we order some food?”

  “Well, sure.” He beamed. “You helped get it here after all. Wouldn’t be very hospitable of us to not let you buy some hot food. So, what’ll it be?”

  “Ales,” said Thasgrin. “Stronges’ ye got, laddie.”

  “Surprise us on the dishes,” I said.

  The barkeep smiled. “Strongest ales in the house and surprise dishes. Coming right up.” Hopefully he doesn’t poison our food or drink. “And if you’re worried about poison or anything unsavory, fear not. Had we wanted you dead, you’d not have crossed our door. I can tell you felt the power in the air when you arrived.” I nodded. “All right then, excuse me while I prepare your meals.”

  We ate in silence for the most part. After our meals, the patrols also cleared out. Garstil left to write and send his letter to Samantha’s father. Thasgrin, Sai, and Morogan went to resupply at the marketplace. Only the barkeep and I remained in the tavern under the inn. I hung back and tried to catch some of the local gossips and get a lead on the dungeon.

  The barkeep plopped down next to me on one of the empty stools and set a full pitcher in front of me. “Now that everyone’s gone, we can get down to business, you and I. The name’s Patches, by the way.”

  “Abalonious. Or just Aba if you prefer,” I said.

  “A pleasure,” said Patches. “Cheers.” We both took long pulls from our ales.

  “So, Patches. What can you tell me about the cultists that we’re chasing? And the talisman they’re after.”

  Patches leaned on the bar and slouched. He seemed to age a couple of years in an instant. “The cultists came through, took our talisman with them,” said Patches. He frowned. “Didn’t want to give it to them, but Damon Tod demanded it. Threatened to turn the whole city if we didn’t. Now he’s got two.” Patches turned and faced me fully, expression deadpan. “And the Staff of a Thousand Souls.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, we tried to stop him, but he’s always one step ahead of us,” I said.

  “Two steps ahead, son. He’s on his way to the coast. That’s where the third talisman is. And if you don’t stop him, he’ll have the power to wipe out entire cities without needing any royal blood to power his largescale blood magic.”

  “Why are you helping us?” I asked. “I thought all of you cultists would be after the same thing.”

  Patches smiled. “Not all of us. Not anymore,” he said. “You see, Damon Tod never gave two shits about his own people. Never once helped anyone but himself. We exiled him decades ago because he was ruthless and hellbent on reviving the Old Ways.” He took a long pull from his ale. “We’re a simple people, Aba. We keep to ourselves. We aren’t interested in war. Two hundred years can change a people. Sometimes for the better.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. I’m really glad we aren’t enemies,” I said.

  “As am I. You boys seem pretty strong. Would hate to be in Damon Tod’s place when you catch up to them.”

  “Planning a world of hurt for him as soon as we catch up.”

  “Of that,” said Patc
hes, “I have no doubt. Anything else you wanna know about while you’ve got me half drunk?”

  “Well, we’re looking for a dungeon somewhere near here. Would you happen to know where it is?” I asked.

  “Everyone knows where it’s at,” he said, laughing. “Why on Tempest would you want to go there? Nothing but traps and mechanical monsters.”

  “A friend hid something for us there a few years ago. Something that might tip the balance in our favor. If we can find it, that is.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” he asked. “Here, let me see your map.” I projected the map onto the bar top, and he pointed at a blank spot on the map. A waypoint marker highlighted the area he’d touched. “Right about here, you should see a pillar sticking out of the sand. There’s a cave nearby it. Keep it in mind if you get hit by a sandstorm. They happen all the time in that area.”

  “Thanks, Patches, you've been a huge help.”

  “Glad I could help,” said Patches. “I wish I could do more, but I haven't been much use in a fight for a few decades now.”

  “Well, I appreciate it either way.”

  “Tell you what, room’s on the house. I've got a suite at the end of a hall with five beds, one door, one window. Still, should rotate watches. We might be friendly, but Damon Tod still has some loyalists in Haran. You should be safe within the city, but it won't hurt to be careful.”

  “I hear that,” I said. I bid him a good evening and headed upstairs.

  None of us had fallen asleep yet when we heard soft footfalls in the hallway leading to our door. Several moments after the noises went silent, we could hear soft scratches coming from our door’s lock. Morogan looked up at me with a hopeful expression and a goofy grin. I nodded. Everyone froze with anticipation as he tiptoed to the door.

  Morogan slammed the door open, knocking two younger men to their asses. “Dinner!” he snarled. Two mortified and screaming men fled up the hallway. Tenants poked their heads out of their rooms in confusion but quickly closed their doors. Clearly, they wanted nothing to do with any shenanigans which involved us.

  We joined in Morogan’s laughter as he closed the door. “Morogan not think we see them again.”

  “Aye, did ya see the looks on their faces.” Thasgrin fell off his bed laughing. Thankfully, there was nothing below us but storage.

  “Ye think someone’d at least try to get the jump on us as we left in the early morn’,” said Thasgrin. “I was kinda itchin’ for a fight.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, my Dwarven friend,” said Sai. “You may receive more than you bargained for. Although, I too was hoping someone else would have tried to break into our rooms last night.”

  “Bring it on. Dwarves love a challenge.”

  “Morogan smash bad people. Orcs like challenge too.”

  “Am I the only one who just wants to get to the dungeon without any surprises for once?” Everyone stared at me like I was some lost puppy to be pitied. “Wow, I guess so. Well, don’t worry, we’ll have plenty to fight once we get to the dungeon. Then it’s a few days’ trip to the coast where we have to fight a horde of undead and a handful of necromancers as strong as us. Maybe stronger.” Everyone cheered. I’m surrounded by adrenaline junkies, I swear…

  “Oi, Aba,” said Thasgrin. He pointed off toward the horizon. “Sandstorm, ye reckon? We should probably get a move on.” Indeed, the horizon was dark with a wall of dust. Lightning accented its movement, even from as far as we were.

  “Yeah, let’s get going. We need to get to that cave before the storm gets to us.”

  We’d been at it for several hours. The farther we went, the stronger the wind grew. “According to the map,” I yelled over the wind, “the cave should be somewhere near us.”

  “I found the pillar!” yelled Sai.

  “Cave over here!” bellowed Morogan. We all made a beeline for his location and piled into the cave. No sooner had we made it in than the howling wind grew more intense, and we could almost feel ourselves being sucked toward the cave opening. We made our way to the very back of the cave and found rocks stacked in a circle. A firepit. Some dried wood lay stacked nearby.

  “Let’s start a fire,” I said. Patches told me the sandstorms last quite a while; we might as well eat.” To my surprise, the guys had picked up some much-needed foodstuffs. Specifically, the ingredients to make my bacon cheeseburgers. “You guys like them that much, huh?” Everyone cheered in unison. “Fine, fine. I’ll make some burgers,” I said.

  We ate in silence and watched the storm outside. Several times, I could have sworn I saw movement outside. The guys told me it was my imagination. I had SADA scan for lifeforms; however, he told me there was too much interference from the cave walls and from the static in the wind. Just because I was paranoid, however, we kept watch while taking turns napping.

  At some point in the afternoon, a chattering noise startled me from my nap. Sai, who had been on watch, had his daggers drawn. His attention was fully on the cave entrance, but nothing moved. The noise came again, much closer. Still nothing. Then, I noticed the clawed footprints at the cave entrance. I stiffened. Sai looked toward me, and I pointed at the ground. He nodded. A second set of prints silently joined the first. By now, Morogan, Thasgrin, and Garstil had awoken, realizing something was very wrong.

  22

  “When I say, take a deep breath and hold it,” I said, as I willed a massive amount of thermal energy into my palms. Sai realized what I was doing. The chattering noises came again and increased to a screech. “Now!” I yelled as I thrust my palm forward. Sai rolled back, and a massive fireblast exploded out of the cave, quickly sucking the air out with it. Two charred corpses fell from the air. One landed where Sai had been standing, the other at my feet. In the distance, through the roaring wind, we could hear more howls retreating from the cave.

  “What are these?” asked Sai.

  “Those are desert striders,” said Thasgrin. “Nasty little buggers, kind of surprised they attacked durin’ a sandstorm. And surprised they were invisible. Tha’s new.”

  “Just my imagination, huh?” I asked.

  Garstil shrugged. “If you always think there’s something creeping around in the dark, you’re bound to be right sometime, I suppose.” Everyone laughed.

  “Is it really paranoia if they really are out to get you?” I asked.

  “I suppose not,” said Sai. “But regardless, we shall tread more carefully in the future. Maybe even listen to you when you feel something is about.” Thasgrin and Garstil chuckled.

  “Morogan not like striders. Scary. Stories of strong Orcs eaten by army of striders.” He shuddered. We could still hear hoots and wails over the roar of the wind, but they seemed to give the fire-breathing cave a wide berth. At least they worried about self-preservation; that was a bonus for us.

  “Garstil, do ye think ye could whip up one of them rune traps?” asked Thasgrin.

  “Uh, I think so,” said Garstil. “I mean, in theory, but I’ve never tried.”

  “Keep watch,” said Morogan. “Maybe trap work. Maybe not.”

  I nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  The sun had begun to set, and the wind had not let up one bit. We set out our camping gear in the cave and stoked the fire. We had some wood left from earlier in our trip, so we added that to the wood pile. Probably wouldn’t hurt to leave the extra in case someone else needs it someday.

  Garstil went about drawing runes at the entrance to the cave and had it ready in five minutes.

  “So, how’s this work?” I asked.

  “Simple, really. If anyone crosses into the rune circle, a loud noise should alert us.”

  “Like an alarm?” asked Sai.

  Garstil nodded. “I don’t have any recipes to immobilize or cause damage. We’ll have to fix that at some point. For now, an early warning is about the best I can come up with.”

  I smiled. “It’s way better than we’ve had in the past. If we’d had something like this in The Desolate Fields, it
wouldn’t have been a surprise attack.” I turned from the cave entrance. “All right, let’s get some rest. Hopefully, the sandstorm will have cleared up by morning.”

  A few hours later, we still weren’t asleep. The roar of the wind had kept us up, and we gave up trying to sleep. Instead, we busied ourselves with cleaning our gear, sharpening our weapons, and practicing our newly learned skills.

  Garstil had figured out how to do basic healing, as had Sai. It wasn’t much, but it could save a life someday. Morogan wasn’t able to learn it because it interfered with the power of his earring, which, according to Thasgrin, was apparently a polar opposite. Thasgrin hadn’t wanted to learn any of Garstil’s magic, which struck me as odd. Something to do with his own innate power not being compatible.

  Sai and I were practicing some strikes and blocks when a sudden gong sounded in the cave. It was so loud that pebbles shook, and our hearts almost exploded from our chests. In an instant, our weapons were on guard.

  Without hesitation, Sai threw one of his daggers, and it embedded into something solid. A strider appeared and fell backward. A dagger hilt stood up from its throat, and it didn’t move. Morogan looked down and noticed footprints in the dirt nearing him and swung his shield in a wide arc. Something heavy hit the cave wall with a sickly wet crunch. Blood smeared down the wall as an invisible body slid to the cavern floor and then appeared.

  “That fun,” said Morogan with a huge grin. “Any more?”

  “I think that was the last of them,” I said. I honestly couldn’t tell over the wind, but I didn’t hear any more hoots or howls.

  “I’ll recast the rune circle,” said Garstil.

  “I’m going to try to get some sleep again,” I said. “Someone keep a lookout.” Everyone nodded. I returned to my bedroll and actually managed to get a few hours of sleep.

  When I awoke, breakfast was already being served. “Good morning,” I said over a yawn.