Dawn of the Sacred Land

by Mark E. Tyson

  Once he hid the carcass sufficiently far enough into the woods, he rushed back to the inn. He hadn’t taken five steps out of the woods before he saw two men in black cloaks searching near the edge of the woods directly south of him. He took off in the opposite direction, avoiding them. There are Enforcers in the area! he thought. Just my luck. It’s only a matter of time before they find the corpse. He made his way back inside and up the stairs to Sylvalora and Shey, who were waiting anxiously for him.

  “I felt essence,” Lady Shey said. “What happened?”

  “You weren’t the only one. There are two Enforcers searching about.”

  “Where is Lyrrath?” Sylvalora asked.

  “On the ground outside of the Tiger’s Head Inn and in Sanmir’s shop, I should think. Killed by that Drasmyd Duil. It’s some kind of new version, better at disguise, no stench to give it away, and some deadly spit. It wasn’t very good at fighting me off. I dispatched it.”

  “And you drew the attention of Enforcers,” Sylvalora said.

  “I didn’t have a sword or a dagger or I might have done something different.”

  “It’s of no matter now. The deed is done,” Shey said.

  “There was a meeting in the woods with another Drasmyd Duil. The other one plans to go to Brookhaven. The one I killed was supposed to go to Symbor and help Naneden steal a tome from the king’s library that contains travel spells. The enemy knows about the descendants of Ardenia.”

  “What did you do with the one you killed?” Sylvalora asked.

  “I dragged it into the woods. It’s a good bet the Enforcers will find it very soon.”

  “They have ways of tracing essence use back to the user.”

  “Aye, I realize that, Sylvalora. I have to leave now, tonight.”

  Lady Shey began to gather up her things. “We have to get back to Brookhaven.”

  Sylvalora agreed. “All right, here’s what we are going to do. Gondrial, you will go to Symbor and find out what you can about Naneden and the travel tome there. If you find him and can stop him, do so. Shey and I will go take care of the Drasmyd Duil in Brookhaven. Who will it be disguised as?”

  “It didn’t come up. The creature said it would find a way.”

  “Shey, gather up your things and go find Rodraq while I pack mine. We will take the coach to Brookhaven. Oh, and I believe you will travel as Lady Shey now.”

  Gondrial gave Shey a curt hug, and then he did the same with Sylvalora.

  “Good luck, Gondrial. I will send word from Brookhaven, and we will meet you in Symbor,” Shey said. As an afterthought, she added, “If you have free time, stay out of the taverns!”

  “You know me. I’m all work.”

  Shey was clearly not amused. “It’s no joke. You know what Naneden is capable of, and you will need to keep a good head on your shoulders if you have a run-in with him.”

  Footsteps, like heavy boots on bare wood, could be heard from the hallway. They stopped, and a knock came at the door.

  “Who’s there?” Sylvalora called out.

  “Enforcers, ma’am. Please open the door.”

  Gondrial tiptoed toward the balcony. “Open the door, and I will lead them off. Get to Brookhaven!”

  Shey waited until Gondrial was at the balcony before she opened the door. Gondrial jumped off the balcony as he did before, making sure the Enforcers could see him.

  Shey embraced the first Enforcer. “Thank Loracia you are here. That man held us in our room by force.”

  “You might be able to catch him if you hurry,” Sylvalora added.

  Both Enforcers ran back down the hall and to the stairs. Gondrial popped back up from the side of the balcony as soon as they were gone. “Good, a pair of bright ones. This should be fun!”

  Chapter 13: Drasmyd Duil

  Lady Shey and Sylvalora met Rodraq in front of the inn. Lady Shey was worried when she didn’t see the coach. Gondrial had already saddled his horse and slipped out of town. He made sure to cast a few spells in order to get the Enforcers on his trail and to draw them away from the corpse in the woods. If they had found it, Enforcers would descend from all around, making it difficult for Shey and Sylvalora to travel to Brookhaven and take care of business. The last thing they needed was a collection of Enforcer checkpoints sprouting up and down the Southern Road.

  “The stable hands are still hitching up the horses. They will pull the coach around when they are through,” Rodraq said as if he read Shey’s worried expression.

  While they were waiting, Shey noticed the local peddler’s wagon rumbling along on the cobblestone street. As it passed, she made eye contact with the peddler. He smiled and gave her a friendly salute by mimicking tipping a hat, even though he wore none, which was a common form of wave in the kingdom of Symboria. Still, she got a chill that turned into an ill feeling.

  Their own coach pulled up, and Rodraq began to load Shey’s and Sylvalora’s belongings. Shey could hear a squeaking sound, so she went to where Rodraq was finishing his task. She noticed one of the rear wheels had begun to creak and groan. She looked at Rodraq.

  “Aye, I hear it too.” He examined the rear spokes, tugging on them. One of the bottom spokes pulled apart, followed by another. “At least two spokes have been sawed in half.” He went around the coach, testing each wheel. Spokes had been sawed in half on each of them. “All of the wheels on this coach are useless. Once the coach got up to speed, they would each give way.”

  Lady Shey addressed the nearest stableman. “Who is the wheelwright?” He pointed to a man already examining the wooden wheels. Shey went to him. “How long would it take to repair?”

  The man looked up at her. “With help, about a day, two by myself.”

  “That’s outrageously long! I wouldn’t think it would take more than a few hours.”

  “If you want it done right, my lady, where they won’t come loose easily on the rough road, it takes time.”

  “What about new? Do you have them in stock?”

  “I believe so, but that would be much more expensive.”

  “But it would be faster, right? You could get a few men together to work on changing each wheel.”

  “I suppose I could. What’s your hurry, my lady?”

  “Do it. The cost is of no consequence, and you let me worry about the urgency of my departure.” She stepped into the coach and returned with a bag of gold pieces. She handed them to the wheelwright. “This is more than enough. Get to work, please.”

  The wheelwright’s eyes brightened. “I shall get these changed at once.” He grabbed the reins of the lead horse and led it to his shop.

  “What is the urgency, Shey?” Sylvalora asked.

  “That peddler. There was something wrong with him. It’s just a feeling. I think he sawed our wheels so he would have a head start.”

  Sylvalora lowered her voice. “You think he might have been hiding something? Do you think he was the other creature Gondrial saw?”

  “I don’t know. Gondrial never got a look at the other creature. It could be another Drasmyd Duil. All I know at this point is we need to get to Brookhaven and assume the worst, that there is another shapeshifter as good as the one Gondrial killed in the woods.”

  “If that’s the case, anyone could be a suspect.”

  “I agree, but still, I can’t exactly just run up and jab a dagger into anyone I suspect. In the old days, other than the horrible smell they gave off, Drasmyd Duil could be detected by mindwielders. There are still a handful of them around.”

  “Mindwielders that actually know how to control their power are significantly rare, my dear. However, I do know of two, but they are both in hiding.”

  “There is another and he is close by, but he is untrained and untested.”

  Sylvalora smoothed back her hair. “I believe I know of whom you speak. We will have to bring out his power slowly and carefully.”

  The coach almost felt like it was gliding on its new wheels. Rodraq had commandeered two more horses for a to
tal of four to help pull it, and he was running them moderately fast. Two soldiers from Lux Enor on white steeds showed up just before they departed for Brookhaven, looking for Lyrrath, who had failed to report his progress. Shey explained what had happened to him and recruited them to ride along. The two men wanted to investigate the area of Lyrrath’s disappearance in Brookhaven, anyway, so they readily agreed to escort her coach.

  Maintaining a rapid pace, it still took them almost to Brookhaven to catch sight of the slower moving peddler’s wagon ahead. The peddler must have seen them and picked up the pace a bit because once they had spotted him, the distance between them remained about constant.

  Shey climbed up into the driver’s seat with Rodraq to get a better view. They had begun to close the gap between them when Shey saw movement from the corner of her eye. Something dark was moving extremely fast through the trees to her right. She watched the woods and evergreen for a while, but the shadow was gone. She lowered herself back down into the coach.

  “There is a shadow moving rapidly through the trees, matching our speed,” she told Sylvalora.

  “Then the peddler isn’t the Drasmyd Duil.”

  “I don’t know. This could be something else. It doesn’t have to be the creature Gondrial saw. The peddler could be harboring something in his wagon.”

  “My lady, we are catching up to the peddler. He appears to have stopped off to the side. Shall I pass him on the road or stop?” Rodraq called down.

  Shey pulled the coach window down and leaned out slightly. She could see the wagon and two youths climbing onto it. “Someone is joining the peddler,” she said to Sylvalora.

  “My lady?” Rodraq called down to her.

  “Pass them so I can see who has joined the peddler, and then stop,” Shey instructed.

  The peddler’s wagon jolted and began to move, but Shey’s carriage was moving faster and Rodraq passed them. Shey and Sylvalora could now see the two young people riding on the wagon.

  Sylvalora put her hand lightly over her mouth. “You have to go out there and stop him. I recognize the boy as Dorenn Adair. That peddler is trying to take them off to that creature.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t believe he is a Drasmyd Duil?”

  “No, I really don’t. I think he is a pawn. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have waited on us to catch up to him. He would have just killed Dorenn and flown away in triumph. I think this is a simple coincidence. I think the peddler was supposed to get into the village and bring him out.”

  “I see. I will be right back,” Shey said.

  Rodraq lowered the steps, opened the coach door, and extended his hand to help Lady Shey out of the coach.

  Chapter 14: The Arrival of Lady Shey

  Dorenn Adair could not turn away. Her facial expression pleaded with him not to let her fall, but he felt her fingers slipping. His footing abruptly failed him, and her hand slipped from his grasp. He watched in horror as she fell. The black-shadowed creatures screamed for her blood as they pulled her down through the tree branches. Their ugly, leathery wings thrashed in the nearby leaves. He hesitated, his mind in a fog; then he remembered who he was, what he was. He concentrated from the depths of his soul to call forth the essence of all things around him. He let the power of life and existence penetrate him. It infiltrated his mind until he felt he could no longer contain it. He thought of her in a safe place and released the energy.

  A whoosh of cool air washed over him as he opened his eyes, searching for the faint light of her disappearing into his force of will. The light bathed her in a brief, pale glow. She no longer fell, and the creatures, realizing their prize was cruelly stripped from them, screamed in frustration before they regrouped and began climbing back up the huge tree trunks to the platforms above, transfixed on Dorenn. Horrified, he tried to summon essence again, but he could not. Dorenn stood panicked as the creatures reached the platform. Frantically, he searched for his sword, Dranmalin. The creatures reached him with their hideously long claws and began tearing at his face.

  “Dorenn, Dorenn, wake up! You are having a nightmare.”

  His expression contorted in a low scream, he rose out of bed and grasped his face, expecting to find bloody gashes but found none.

  “Dorenn, it’s me. It’s Tatrice.”

  A relieved calm washed over him as he focused on her familiar face.

  “It was horrible. I dreamed of those black-winged creatures again.”

  Tatrice sat back away from him on the bed. “Oh, and of the girl too? Did you dream about her again?”

  Dorenn nodded and then shook his head at Tatrice’s reaction. “What would you have me do?”

  “You’ve been dreaming of this same girl for months now. It’s a bit unsettling.”

  “How can you be jealous of a dream? I suppose you would have me dream of you instead.”

  “Yes, certainly, why not me?”

  “They are only dreams, Tat.”

  “I’m sure you could find a way to get rid of them if you tried hard enough.”

  “I’ll never understand you.” He cracked a playful grin. “Now get out of here so I can get out of my nightclothes.”

  “I’m going.” She took two steps toward the door and then plopped onto the edge of his bed. “I hope you remember you promised me a picnic today. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  “No, Mother prepared us a basket.” He squinted at the morning light creeping up into the window. “Hey, it’s barely morning. What are you doing here so early?”

  “I am helping your mother in the kitchen for breakfast. The inn is full, remember?” She got up from the bed and headed for the door. “Your father asked me to wake you. He’s in the stores.”

  Dorenn moaned. “He’s going to have me moving ale barrels to make room. By the gods, how much more space does he need to clear? I’ll be glad when these soldiers get to the mountain outposts.”

  “Stop bellyaching.” Tatrice winked at him as she closed the door behind her. Dorenn shook his head and searched the floor for his tunic and trousers.

  Lourn, the innkeeper of the Tiger’s Head Inn and Dorenn’s father, was busy moving small wooden crates around the sizeable storeroom located in a cellar adjacent to the kitchen.

  “I’m here, Father,” Dorenn said.

  The big man jolted. “Oh, Dorenn, you startled me.” He rubbed his hands on his already dirty white apron.

  “Sorry, Father.”

  “No matter, I have a job for you this morning. You know Fadral, the new peddler, don’t you?”

  “Aye, I’ve talked with him several times.”

  “Good, good. Well, with all this new business, I’ve run out of salted pork. I don’t usually like buying meat from peddlers because of the quality, but this time I have no choice. I have instructed Durn to butcher four hogs, but I need to feed my guests in the meantime.” He moved another crate. “Fadral doesn’t come to Brookhaven today, and he won’t be out this way for two more days. I need you to ride out to the Brass Buckle in Soldier’s Bluff. Fadral should be there around the same time you arrive, so see if he will sell you some pork. If not, then find Marna at the Sea and Ale and ask if she will sell you some of her stock. I just need enough to last until Durn can get the new meat cured.”

  “I doubt Marna will part with her stock, Father, her inn is just as busy as ours.”

  “I’m only asking you to try, Dorenn, no harm in asking her.”

  “No, sir.” Dorenn suddenly remembered his promise to Tatrice. “Father, I promised Tatrice a picnic today.”

  Lourn continued to lug around the crates. “Take her with you. You can stop at Ashonda’s Pond on the way back. Our stock will last until you return.”

  “When will Durn have the wagon ready?”

  “No wagon. You can take Old Blue and the good saddlebags.”

  “What about Tatrice?”

  “She can ride with you. Don’t tell me you don’t want to be snuggled up close.”

  Dorenn grimaced. He certainly didn’t
mind, but he found it disconcerting that his father mentioned it.

  Lourn chuckled at Dorenn’s reaction. “All right, just go on and find Tatrice. I last saw her in the kitchen. Oh, and when you talk to Fadral, make sure he has enough salted pork on his wagon for his trip out here in a few days just in case he needs to stock up in Symbor.”

  “Aye, Father.”

  Dorenn left the storage room, trying to think of a way to make a trip to pick up salted pork sound appealing to Tatrice so he could avoid the inevitable chastisement for cutting their time together short. He had little choice when it came between obeying his father and spending time with her. He had to go find Fadral, but his wish would be to stay with her. After all, what young man would prefer work to spending time with a beautiful young woman at a picnic? He rounded the corner into the kitchen, still without a thought of how to explain the situation to her, and found Tatrice kneading dough at the counter.

  “Dorenn, there you are. Your mother prepared a wonderful picnic basket for us with roasted chicken, blackberry tea, and apple pie.”

  “Where did she get the apples?” It was all he could think to say.

  “Preserves, silly.”

  “Oh yes, how silly of me.”

  “Don’t poke fun at me, Dorenn Adair,” she scolded.

  Dorenn breathed in, gathering his courage, and then decided to be out with it. “Tat, my father has a chore for me.”

  She smacked the lump of dough with her fist. “On our day? The day we have been planning for a month? How long will this chore take?”

  “You’ve not let me explain.”

  “What is to explain? You have a chore. There is always a chore. Are we still able to go on the picnic?”

  “I have to go to Soldier’s Bluff and—”