by Thomas Rath
Bren nodded as he walked towards her. “Check her ears for fluid. If they’re dry then it’s Dranlok.”
Kat nodded and pulled back Tam’s hair. Both gasped. Kat took a step back and put her hand to her mouth looking at Bren. “She’s of the Blood,” she whispered. Both shot a look over at Dor.
Without a word, Bren moved to Dor’s side and pulled back his Dihne. “He is too!” he breathed.
“But how?” Kat asked, half in shock.
Bren reached up and touched the scar on his own ear. “I don’t know. I don’t know them.” Dor coughed and blood started seeping out from around the knife. “Help me with him,” Bren said waving Kat over. “He must be first. After they are well, then we will find out more.”
Kat just nodded moving to Bren’s side. Placing a hand on Dor’s shoulder she took a deep breath and then grabbed the dagger protruding from his chest. She looked up at Bren who stared down at Dor for a brief moment and then nodded slightly. With a quick and fluid jerk, she yanked on the dagger pulling it straight out of Dor’s chest. Dor’s eyes shot open and his body jerked about before quickly going still. Blood pumped freely out of the wound now spilling across his chest and dribbling onto the floor. Casting aside the dagger, Kat wiped the blood from the wound and then Bren put his hand over the top of it. Blood poured out from the sides of his palm and up through the cracks in his fingers.
Closing his eyes, Bren calmed his nerves and gathered his strength, seeking in his mind the wound beneath his hand. Then he spoke. “ReeShonosh.” Smoke suddenly curled up from Dor’s chest slipping through the cracks between Bren’s fingers where blood had poured out only moments before. Taking his hand away, Kat gently dabbed the wound with a damp cloth wiping away most of the blood.
“Careful of the scab,” Bren instructed.
Kat only nodded and then pulled out a bag from beneath her robe. She poured its contents into the water basin that sat between the cots and then stirred it gently with her finger. Pulling out another bag she also emptied its contents into the bowl and then stirred vigorously. In no time, the soupy liquid got thicker becoming as hard and pliable as moist clay. Pulling a chunk from the bowl, she stretched it out over the wound and then helped Bren lift Dor up enough so that Bren could wrap a cloth securely around Dor’s chest. Satisfied with their work, they laid Dor back down onto the cot.
“Would you take care of the girl?” Bren asked, the fatigue obvious in his face and voice.
“Of course,” Kat answered, already moving towards Tam. “There doesn’t seem to be any liquid in her ears so it has to be Dranlok. Her recovery will be long and difficult but she should recover as long as she hasn’t been taking it for too long.”
Bren only nodded.
Pulling a dagger safely hidden up the sleeve of her robe, Kat unceremoniously sliced a small cut into Tam’s right arm. Then, just as indifferently, she made a similar cut in her palm and immediately placed it over Tam’s incision. Immediately, Tam started jerking violently and it was all Kat could do to keep both cuts pressed tightly together.
Bren tried to help by holding down her arms but he was struggling. “She’s reacting against the impurities in your blood.”
“I know,” Kat said through gritted teeth. “The drug’s hold on her is too strong. I don’t know how long I can hold it.”
“You have to finish,” Bren insisted, sweat coming out on his forehead. “I am too weak from helping the other.”
Kat nodded, sweat dripping down her face. Then, without warning, Tam stopped moving completely, lying still on her cot as if dead.
Colonel Braxton watched Jack pace in front of the door having finally gotten the whole story out of him. He didn’t believe Jack at first, thinking it some perverse joke that the goblins and trolls had gathered, but seeing the look on his face had quickly changed his mind. He immediately sent a dispatch to Calandra and then sent more reinforcements to the pass. They had to hold them back in the pass if they were going to have any chance at all at defending themselves. With the numbers Jack was spouting out, Haykon would not last very long on its own. What he couldn’t figure out was why the trolls had passed by the first time and not attacked with support from the goblins. What was driving them? “Jack, will you please stop pacing like that, it’s driving me mad!”
Jack whirled on him, his face in an angry knot when the door suddenly opened producing the two Healers. Jack turned back. Both looked exhausted, but Jack didn’t really notice. “How are they?” he spat, brushing past the two and almost knocking Kat down as he entered the room.
“They will live,” Bren started. “The boy will need his poultice changed often and the girl will suffer from the drug she has been given but with time and rest they should both heal.”
Jack stared at the dagger on the floor by Dor’s cot surrounded by a pool of blood. Looking at the boy’s face, he could see that his color was still bad but that his breathing had improved. It really was lucky that the two healers were there, only they could have healed a wound as bad as Dor’s.
“How did you do this?” Jack whispered pointing at Dor’s chest.
Bren bowed. “It is not our way to reveal the gifts to heal that are within us. We will be back to care for them more in the morning. For now, they must rest undisturbed.”
Jack turned and stared at the robbed figures as if they were wraiths. But finally nodded his head.
“Come,” Colonel Braxton said extending his hand towards Jack. “They will be well. Let’s get you to bed before you fall over.
“Bring me a cot,” he said the weariness obvious in his voice. “I’ll stay here.”
* * *
Thane fought with all his strength against the darkness that covered him like a webbed cocoon. He could hear muffled voices coming in and out but he couldn’t get his mouth to respond to answer them. He wanted to scream that he was there so that someone might find him and pull him back. He didn’t know how long he had been trapped. He tried to think back to when it had happened but his mind was a void; there was nothing before the darkness. Was this birth? Was he an infant forcing himself from his mother’s womb?
He pushed against the darkness again willing himself to life. He struggled and then suddenly, there was a brief sensation of light and the voices grew stronger. He took courage, pressing against the darkness again, pounding it with a mad fury. It started giving way slowly, breaking up into tiny pockets of light. Fuzzy lines and faded colors began to materialize into shadows of movement and the muffled voices cleared as if he were coming out of a deep pool.
“Ik t’udar t’akar ne?”
Thane heard the voice and tried to focus on it. It was soft and feminine but full of accent and strangeness. He tried to think on what had been said to determine if he understood but it was all gibberish. Suddenly, two heads appeared above him in a hazy swirl of shadow. He tried for long moments to focus knowing somehow that what he was seeing should be clearer and more distinct.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
The voice came again but this time Thane recognized the words. He knew them, he knew he did but their meaning was just beyond his grasp. It was important he understand; he felt that. There was something he had to do. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Suddenly, there was a sensation on his forehead that was gentle and comforting. He relaxed against the feel of it finding warmth in the contact. Again the voice spoke. This time he tried to pinpoint its origin and quickly understood that it came from the blurry form on the right. He knew there was some way to make the form clearer but it escaped him at the moment. He looked hard at it willing himself to see it. Wanting to see it. Needing to.
Slowly, the fuzzy lines began to sharpen and the colors differentiated, no longer running into a mass of gray and black. He could just make out deep blue eyes that fairly sparkled behind long lashes. He tried to make out the rest of the face but it was covered by a black cloth that surrounded the head and face masking all but the eyes. He tried to speak, feeling it important, but his v
oice would not respond. His body would not respond to his commands to move. Another voice suddenly spoke drawing his attention away from the pretty eyes.
“Can you speak?”
Thane’s eyes moved slowly reaching for the voice that sounded in his left ear and finally landed on the other face looking down on him. It was a man’s. His face was sharp and angular. Hair grew from his chin into a long, braided point reminding Thane of someone he couldn’t quite remember. His eyes were blue like the woman’s but were harder. His head was also covered. Thane stared at the wrap knowing it meant something. He had seen one before. No, he had worn one before. He didn’t know when or how, but he knew he had worn the same type of covering on his own head. Was it a mark of his people? Was he with his own kind? But who were his kind? His mind wouldn’t reveal it to him. He felt so helpless. Who was he? He had only the slightest sense of being. His eyes pleaded with the man to reveal the answers.
“You are safe, namani,” the man said.
Thane stared at the man barely hearing him. Something else caught his attention now that made his mind itch with recognition. Two sword hilts lifted past the man’s shoulders on either side. They sat in such a fashion that Thane knew they could be easily drawn. Like the head covering, there was something very special about how this man was dressed. It made the man who he was and Thane knew it but understanding was still on the edges of thought, just out of sight and reach.
He felt himself retreating again into the void of blackness he had fought so hard to erase. He tried to refocus searching for the woman’s kind eyes but she was a blurring mass of gray. He felt an urgency about these people but was too exhausted to clear his thoughts and concentrate on it. The darkness started circling the blurry images, slowly eating away at them until they had been completely devoured.
A voice from the past echoed in the back of his mind drawing him towards it deeper into the emptiness. “This is Thane,” the voice said as if speaking to someone else. “No doubt you can see that he is Tjal-Dihn.” The words seemed to echo through the void pounding him as if trying to force him to understand. “Tjal-Dihn. Tjal-Dihn.” Images suddenly flashed and he thought he saw himself with a head wrap on. He was standing next to the one speaking, talking to others. The others stared at him.
“This is Thane,” the speaker said patting him on the back. “No doubt you can see that he is Tjal-Dihn.” The men staring at him suddenly changed to one man, the man that had been looking down at him only moments before. He was wearing the same head covering as he was. Suddenly the speaker was next to the man patting him on the back and talking to Thane. “No doubt you can see that he is Tjal-Dihn”
EPILOGUE
The stairs were dark and silent spiraling their way down into the heart of the mountain deep below the keep. Resdin plodded ahead with the torch lighting the way for his master who followed closely at his heels. Knowing Bedler’s mood, he kept silent although he wanted to protest being dragged out of bed. Resdin hated the lower areas where Bedler practiced so much of his art. He knew his Lord could have come alone, lighting the way himself with a simple spell. He was being punished. Punished for not catching the Chufa dog.
Lord Bedler’s thoughts were as dark as the gloom that surrounded them. It had only been the day before that the Chufa boy had escaped from his grasp thanks to the stupidity of his goblin slaves. Worse yet was the lack of communication from Craklor. If anyone could find the young Chufa, Bedler was certain that his dragon could, but he had not heard, nor seen, anything of the dragon since the morning before when he left. He put it out of his mind. There were more important things about to happen to let such a puny creature like Thane interfere with his plans.
The stairs ended at a landing separated by three identical doors. Resdin quickly chose the one on the left and pulled it open for his master who passed silently within. He set the torch in a sconce on the wall and followed right behind, shutting the door as he did. A strange, green glow which seemed to emanate from the walls themselves lit their way down a long, narrow corridor which ended at three more doors. Bedler turned to the one on the right and passed his hand over it in a circular motion while chanting in some unknown tongue. There was a loud click and then the door opened inward revealing a large, circular room beyond. The same eerie glow from the hallway lit the room with green light but reached only part way up the walls leaving the ceiling in thick darkness.
Bedler entered with a smile, moving directly to the center of the room where a large, five-pointed star reached out with each of its points and touched a portion of the wall. Resting on each point was a solid gold stand, which cradled an egg that stood at least twice as tall as Resdin. Resdin stayed by the door just inside the room and waited, not daring to enter any further without his master’s permission. To his relief, Bedler seemed to have forgotten his existence.
“Bring them,” Lord Bedler shouted into the air. “Bring them and let the ceremony begin.” The door behind Resdin suddenly slammed shut making him jump. He watched with fascination as parts of the wall by each egg began to ripple like disrupted water and then disappeared completely leaving a gap of darkness. Two goblins, two orcs and a troll each stepped out of a passageway holding a chain that encircled the neck of a prisoner. The prisoners were also chained at the ankles and around the wrists that were secured tightly behind their backs. Resdin instantly recognized that the prisoners represented a member of each of the four races. There was a male dwarf, a male Waseeni, a female Tjal-Dihn and a male and female human.
“Where is the Chufa girl?!” Bedler screamed at the troll holding the male human. “She was to be here, not this human!”
The troll’s whole body shook with fear as it opened its mouth and tried to answer. “L-l-lord, she g-g-gone. T-t-t-tak-ken b-b-by others.”
Bedler shook with fury. Resdin was certain he was about to explode. Then in a surprisingly soft voice he simply said, “Resdin, cut the troll’s throat and take his place, but don’t you dare get his blood on that egg or the same will happen to you.”
Resdin paused for only a moment before he quickly moved to the spot where the troll stood shaking, rattling his prisoner’s chain. Without a word, Resdin pulled his knife and slit the frightened troll’s neck grabbing the chain as he did so and then pushed him back through the dark opening to die silently on the floor. The human looked at Resdin as if he were a savior releasing him from the grips of the evil troll. Resdin just turned back towards Bedler ignoring the human’s words of gratitude.
“Prepare them,” Bedler shouted.
The prisoners were released from their neck chains and then knocked unmercifully to the ground. Large hooks descended from the darkened ceiling above and landed to the side of each egg. The prisoners were quickly hooked by their ankle chains and then the hooks were hoisted back into the air positioning the captives head first just inches above each of the gigantic eggs. The prisoners cried and struggled swinging back and forth. Resdin just laughed at their terror.
Bedler began to chant. “Bay-na-for-ly gon-est-loo-na. Bay-na-for-ly gon-est-loo-na.” An eerie silence suddenly filled the chamber, the prisoners stopped their cries and whimpering and the chains ceased their clanking. No one breathed as if sensing something horrific was about to occur. Resdin felt his heart might stop.
Only the sound of Bedler’s voice filled the circular room now echoing up through the darkness above. The chant slowly gained speed and amplitude as it rose in pitch and fervor. “Bay-na-for-ly gon-est-loo-na. Bay-na-for-ly gon-est-loo-na. Bay-na-for-ly gon-est-loo-na.” Over and over he chanted the words. Over and over they seemed to gain strength and power. With each repeated syllable he heightened its intensity until his voice was raised unnaturally strong like the winds of a great storm.
Suddenly, the eggs seemed to spark to life as if in answer. A tiny red glow began to penetrate the thick outer shells absorbing the unnatural green glow that radiated throughout the room. With each repetition of Bedler’s chant, the light in the eggs grew stronger and stronger u
ntil the whole room was completely filled with the blood red radiance having completely snuffed out the green glow.
Without warning, Bedler ceased his chanting. “NOW!”
Resdin lifted his knife, as did the others, and opened the jugular of his prisoner spilling his blood all over the humongous egg, which hungrily absorbed every drop through its hard outer shell. He watched without pity or remorse as the human jerked and struggled trying to hold to its life. Resdin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. This isn’t as bad as I thought. Within quick moments, the last drops of life-giving blood were completely sucked from the jerking forms ending Resdin’s enjoyment and leaving the prisoners still and white.
Gawking at the horrid scene in pure delight, Bedler’s face took on a look of sheer madness and evil as his voice lifted up to a shrill wail filled with wicked excitement. “Soon, my children will awake and live. Then none will dare defy me!”