Lusam: The Dragon Mage Wars Book Five

by Dean Cadman

  “Just be careful how much of that you drink,” he warned.

  “But I thought you said it was safe as long as I didn’t eat the flesh,” Lusam said, pulling his hand away from the fruit he was about to pick.

  Vultog nodded and his smile widened. “It is, but if you drink too much of it you’ll be spending more time in the bushes than walking.”

  “Oh… I see,” Lusam replied, just as his stomach gave out a long, low, rumbling noise. He desperately hoped that it was only due to his hunger. The last thing he wanted to do was spend any time alone in the bushes with all those strange large insects around.

  It wasn’t long before they saw a large clearing in the distance up ahead and Vultog called a halt to their progress. He indicated that they should remain quiet, then slowly retreated a short distance back along the game trail they were using. Lusam feared the faeries had somehow overtaken them and managed to cut them off, but when he saw Vultog casually looking around for something in the undergrowth, he guessed it was something different entirely.

  Eventually, Vultog found what he was looking for—a bulbous shaped plant that grew abundantly in the shady undergrowth. He snapped it off at the stem and twisted it in his powerful hands to break it open. The inside was full of a fluffy white substance which reminded Lusam of the Old Man’s Beard that grew in the forests of Afaraon, only softer and fluffier. He watched as Vultog scooped out the fluffy insides of the plant and began rolling it into four equally sized balls. Then without an explanation, he handed two of them to Lusam, before placing the other two in his own ears.

  Lusam looked alarmingly at the two large white spongy balls in the palm of his hand and wondered just how big Vultog thought his ears were. He tossed one of them away and broke the other into two, before re-rolling a new pair or sensibly sized earplugs for himself. He still had no idea why Vultog wanted him to use them, but he had to admit they were very effective at blocking out the sounds of the forest around him. Vultog gave him a wide grin and nodded his head, then turned on his heels and headed straight towards the clearing.

  Lusam wondered if they were about to encounter some kind of insect which might otherwise have tried to enter their ears, but as Vultog took a step into the clearing, the reason for the earplugs became instantly clear. Lusam startled, as an incredibly loud noise suddenly erupted in front of them. It intensified rapidly, and even with his earplugs firmly in place, it still made him feel dizzy and disorientated. He stumbled across the clearing to keep up with Vultog, desperate to escape the deafening noise as soon as possible. It was like hearing a million crickets all in the same place, except much, much louder. He dreaded to think what would have happened if he’d stumbled into that clearing alone without any ear protection.

  They crossed the clearing as quickly as possible into the treeline on the other side, but Lusam couldn’t help wondering why Vultog hadn’t simply gone around the clearing. It might have taken them an hour or so longer, but at least their eardrums would have been intact. Even several hundred feet into the forest their deafening sounds could still clearly be heard. Eventually, the sounds petered out, and apart from the ringing in his ears, all was quiet once more. Vultog removed his earplugs and shook his head vigorously as if trying to rid himself of any residual effects. Cautiously, Lusam removed his own and was relieved to hear the far gentler sounds of the forest all around him.

  “What in the Seven Hells was that?” Lusam asked in a hushed voice, hoping not to trigger another onslaught of the sounds.

  “Drumite,” Vultog replied, with a wide grin. “A type of insect that disables its prey using sound. If we hadn’t taken the precautions that we did before entering that clearing, we would have been rendered unconscious by their noise, and then the drumite would have had a very good meal indeed.”

  “But if you knew the Drumites were there, why didn’t we simply go around the clearing instead?”

  “There are two reasons. The first is because it’s much further than you might think to go around that clearing. It stretches for several miles in either direction, and even if you did try to go around it, there would then be other, more dangerous creatures to avoid. Many of the larger forest predators hunt around the far boundaries of the clearing because they know any animal smart enough to avoid the drumite, has to pass that way if they want to get to the other side.”

  “And the second reason?” Lusam asked.

  Again Vultog’s grin widened. “Because we still don’t know if those faeries are tracking us. And now we will.”

  “Do you really think they might still be tracking us?”

  “No, not really. But at least this way we’ll know for sure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  An hour later the trees of the forest began to thin out a little and the ground became much wetter underfoot. They soon found that they had to choose their path carefully, so as not to end up knee-deep in mud. It was slow going for sure, but at least it was now more comfortable to walk since the thinning tree canopy no longer held in the heat and humidity as much. It was also the first time in quite a while that Lusam had been able to see the position of the sun, but what he saw made no sense to him at all. They had been travelling for many hours since escaping the faeries’ village but the sun appeared to have barely moved.

  “How long do we have until the sun sets?” Lusam asked.

  Vultog stopped and turned to face him. “Until the what does what?” he asked, with a confused look on his face.

  Lusam suddenly realised that the sun might actually be called something different in Vultog’s world, so he pointed towards it and said, “Until the sun disappears below the horizon and it gets dark.” Before then he hadn’t given it much thought, but now that he did, he was amazed that Vultog understood his language at all. There had obviously been some kind of interaction between their two realms in the past, but as to what or when that had been, he hadn’t a clue. He decided that if he got the chance he would ask the village elders about it later.

  Vultog looked up at the sun and gave Lusam a strange look. “Do you mean The Keeper’s Eye?”

  “Yeah, if that’s what you call it here,” Lusam replied.

  Vultog continued to look at him strangely, then said, “Why would The Keeper’s Eye ever fall from the sky and make the world dark?”

  “What? Wait… are you saying that the sun… The Keeper’s Eye, never leaves the sky, and it never gets dark here?” Lusam asked in astonishment.

  “Of course not. Why would it?”

  “Then how do you count the days if there are no nights?” Lusam asked, ignoring Vultog’s question completely.

  Vultog shook his head and cursed under his breath. “Do you know nothing, my friend?”

  As Lusam began to absorb what Vultog had just said, many things began to make more sense to him. Like why it was so hot and humid, and why he felt so tired. His heart sank as he suddenly realised that he might have been there for days already. He had assumed earlier that he had been unconscious on the beach for a relatively short period of time. But given the amount of sunburn that he’d suffered, along with how dehydrated he was when he awoke, he was no longer so certain about it. Then there was the faeries’ village. How long had he been unconscious that time? For all he knew, it could have already been two or three days since he’d left Neala behind. And the worst thing was, there was no way of knowing for sure. One thing he was certain of, however, was that he needed a more accurate way of tracking the passage of time there.

  “We watch the cycle of The Keeper’s Eye, of course. How else would you count the days?” Vultog replied.

  “We also have a cycle in my world, but the sun… our Keeper’s Eye rises in the east at the start of the day, travels slowly across the sky, and then vanishes below the horizon in the west at the end of each day. The darkness lasts for about an equal time as the light, but we use the period of darkness to sleep. But how do you know when to sleep? Or even when a day has passed, if it never gets dark?” Vultog was now looking at him
as if he had gone completely mad. He was obviously struggling to accept what Lusam had just told him, but eventually, after a brief shake of his head, he answered the question.

  Vultog looked up at pointed towards the east. “At the start of each day, The Keeper’s Eye looks upon us from above The Endless Blue. Then The Keeper slowly moves his eye across the sky, so that he can see and judge all of his creations below. When his eye reaches the highest peaks of The Sacred Mountain, it stops, then begins its slow journey back towards The Endless Blue again, so that a new day and a new opportunity to impress The Keeper can begin once more.”

  “So The Keeper’s Eye never goes beyond The Sacred Mountain?” Lusam asked, finding it difficult to understand how the sun could simply stop in the sky and reverse its course.

  “Of course not,” Vultog replied. “The creatures who live beyond The Sacred Mountain have already proved their worth and ascended, therefore The Keeper no longer has any need to watch over them.”

  “I see,” Lusam replied, slowly nodding. He didn’t really understand it at all, but if that was how things worked here, he guessed that he better get used to the idea and move on. The sooner he found the location of the Guardian book, the sooner he could return to Neala, and his own, far less strange world waiting for him beyond the sea arch.

  ***

  A few miles further into the swampy forest, Lusam began noticing signs of civilization. At first, it was only the occasional evidence of tree felling which caught his attention, but soon the narrow wet muddy paths gave way to wider log roads. And not long after that, they came across the first of several log bridges spanning the deeper, more treacherous areas of the swamp.

  Lusam tried on several occasions to strike up a conversation with Vultog, but it seemed the closer they got to his village, the more sombre he became. He guessed that Vultog was contemplating the loss of his honour amongst his people and what that would mean for his future. Lusam had quickly learned how important honour was to Vultog, and couldn’t imagine how he would feel when it was finally stripped from him at The Ceremony of Truth. He wished there was something that he could do to help him, but Vultog had been adamant that his tribe would not allow him another chance to prove himself, and that he had to accept their judgement when the time came. He just hoped that Vultog wouldn’t take it too badly.

  Ever since Vultog had suggested it, Lusam had been nervous about the prospect of entering an orc village in his current weakened state. But when the village finally came into view for the first time, his apprehension grew into outright fear. It wasn’t like any village he had ever seen before. It was more like a fortress.

  Enormous pointed logs, thirty feet tall, surrounded the entire village. A dozen or more observation platforms towered high above the walls, each one manned by at least three orc archers. The only visible entrance was via a sturdy log bridge, which spanned a wide moat encircling the entire village. A moat which not only contained water but also numerous sharpened logs, to stop anyone from swimming across it. Four impressively muscled orcs, armed with massive war axes and shields guarded the gate, and as soon as they spotted their approach, a loud horn was sounded in warning. Lusam watched in horror as the orc archers nocked their arrows and drew back their bows. Instinctively, he raised a magical shield around himself and dropped back a step behind Vultog.

  “Don’t worry, my friend, they shouldn’t fire on us,” Vultog said, chuckling quietly to himself.

  “What! What do you mean they ‘shouldn’t’?” Lusam asked, nervously eyeing up the archers above.

  “Just keep walking slowly, and whatever you do, show no fear.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better,” Lusam hissed.

  “HALT! Who goes there?” one of the guards bellowed.

  “Has the swamp gas finally affected your eyes as well as your mind, Golub?” Vultog shouted across the bridge.

  “Vultog… is that you? You’ve been gone for so long we were beginning to think you’d become food for the worms.” the guard called back. The archers visibly relaxed and lowered their weapons, some even laughed openly at the guard’s joke. Lusam followed Vultog’s lead onto the log bridge, trying his utmost to appear relaxed and confident as they approached the guards at the gate. Halfway across the bridge, Lusam glanced over the edge into the dark waters below and was shocked to see the rotting corpses of countless creatures there. They had been skewered on countless sharpened posts hidden just under the water’s surface and left there to slowly rot.

  One particular creature grabbed Lusam’s attention more than the others. About fifty paces from the bridge, Lusam could clearly see the huge outline of a wyvern just under the surface of the water. By the looks of it, it had been there for a very long time. Its wings had all but rotted away, and its flesh clung loosely to its bones. Even dead it instilled a sense of fear and trepidation in Lusam. He knew now that it wasn’t a dragon, but it still looked enough like one to reawaken the memories of his dreadful nightmares. A harsh voice suddenly snapped him out of his reverie, and he startled when he realised they were almost at the gate.

  “Why is your prisoner not bound?” the guard growled, staring at Lusam.

  “He’s not a prisoner, he’s a friend,” Vultog replied, holding up his hand to stop the guard moving towards Lusam. Lusam took an involuntary step back and immediately regretted it, remembering Vultog’s words of warning not to show any fear.

  “It is weak! Look at it! It cowers before me like prey. How can you call it a friend?” the guard growled, spitting on the ground at Lusam’s feet. “You know our laws, Vultog. Only prisoners and tribe members are allowed to enter our village.”

  “I told you… he is not a prisoner,” Vultog growled back at him in challenge. Lusam could tell this wasn’t going to end well, and fully expected to have to flee at any moment. At least orcs can’t fly like faeries, he thought to himself, as he casually glanced up at the surrounding trees. They were sparse around the orc village, but they grew much denser a few hundred paces away. His shield would no doubt take several direct hits from the archers before he managed to disappear into the canopy, but that wasn’t what concerned him. It was both the wyverns above the trees, and the orc’s ability and determination to track him afterwards which worried him the most.

  “Then if he’s not a prisoner, he must become part of our tribe to enter the village. And if that’s his intention, he must also be strong enough to defend our tribe against attack. So I challenge this weakling to a test of strength, as is my right!” the guard said, glowering menacingly at Lusam over Vultog’s shoulder.

  The orc guard was enormous. Even bigger than Vultog. He stood at least eight feet tall and his muscles bulged and rippled throughout his entire body. He could have crushed Lusam in one hand without even breaking a sweat, and he had just challenged him to a duel of strength.

  Lusam’s heart hammered in his chest as the orc waited for him to accept the challenge or flee. He knew now that showing any kind of weakness was the wrong thing to do, so with a deep breath to steady his nerves, he stepped out from behind Vultog to face his challenger. The guard snarled down at him, full of contempt.

  Lusam turned to face Vultog, making sure that he could still see the orc guard too. “What is the challenge?” he asked, trying his best to sound calm.

  Vultog looked down at him. He could see the concern in the orc’s eyes even before he spoke. “You must block one of his attacks,” he said, in a resigned voice. Lusam looked at the guard, and a wicked smile spread across his face. He threw his shield aside with a loud clatter and gripped his enormous battle axe with both hands ready to strike.

  “May The Keeper grant you his strength, my friend,” Vultog said, offering Lusam his own battle axe. Lusam simply stared at it. He knew from experience that he could barely even lift it, let alone use it to block a vicious attack from the massive orc. His mind raced as he looked between the guard and Vultog’s axe. He knew from Vultog’s earlier warning that he shouldn’t reveal his magical ability
to anyone in the village, so he couldn’t simply strengthen his shield and allow the guard to hit him. Not that he would have wanted to, given his already depleted power reserves. Just thinking about the sudden power drain almost made him feel dizzy.

  What he needed was a way to either block the orc’s swing or lessen its impact on his shield, whilst at the same time hiding his magical abilities. Not an easy task, he realised.

  Then something suddenly caught his eye.

  Three feet above the orc’s head there was a large iron ring fastened to the huge gatepost. If he could connect the ring and the orc’s battle axe together using a strand of magic, he could potentially halt the orc’s swing at any point he wished, by simply solidifying the strand of magic. The tricky part would be doing it at precisely the right moment. Too soon and the orc’s axe would appear to stop in mid-air by itself. Too late and… well, he didn’t really want to think about the outcome of that. All he knew was that he didn’t really have a choice. He needed information about the Guardian book and a place to recover his strength. Fleeing the orc’s challenge would provide neither.

  With a single thought, he created a strand of invisible magic and secured one end of it to the large iron ring on the gate post. The other end he attached to the orc’s weapon, leaving enough slack so as not to be detected.

  Lusam looked up at Vultog and smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but I won’t need it,” he said, nodding towards his axe.

  The orc guard mistook the meaning of his words and roared with laughter. “Spoguk!” he said, spitting on the ground. “I told you it was weak!”

  Vultog nodded at Lusam and grinned, then he locked eyes with the guard. “My friend is no spoguk,” he said proudly, as Lusam stepped confidently towards his accuser. The orc guard immediately stopped laughing.

  Lusam’s heart thumped hard inside his chest and his legs felt weak, but he refused to let the orc see it. He knew that he could kill the orc easily if he wanted to, even in his weakened state. But that would gain him nothing. And if he revealed his magic whilst doing so, the other orcs would hunt him down relentlessly, no matter where he tried to hide.