Tales From Thac

by F P Spirit et al.

  Any unease Draigo felt abruptly drained out of him. He had been right to admire this man. All this time, he’d been carrying a heavy burden. Draigo’s voice was soft when he spoke. “Do they know?”

  Tharne shook his head. “When we returned to Renere, Liadha secreted Korti to the orphanage amid a group of newly stolen waifs. A few years later, I adopted her along with Solais. So, only a few of us know her true heritage.”

  Draigo’s lips flattened into a line. “Hmm. I imagine your brother suspects.”

  Tharne’s mouth twisted sideways. “He does indeed, but he won’t touch either for fear of never finding the mandate.”

  Draigo nodded thoughtfully. The mandates of Zesstara were more than just a set of abstract rules from the goddess. The lord captain of each clan possessed a mystical item from the goddess herself that signified their right to lead.

  Tharne chuckled softly in his chair. “My dear brother had this house ransacked more times than I can count, but he never found it”—he leaned forward, his eyes glowing with intensity—“nor will he. No one will see it again, until the day of…”

  The sudden slam of a door interrupted him before he could finish.

  “Captain Tharne! Captain Tharne!” A young voice cried, the name accompanied by the sound of running feet.

  Tharne shot out of his seat, his face filled with concern. “In here, lad!”

  Draigo spun around as a young teen entered from the hall. Tall and lanky, he recognized him as one of the youths who had been chasing Kortiama and Solais around the docks.

  The lad leaned forward, his breath coming in short ragged bursts. “It’s Korti… she’s gone… up to… the Ghoul’s Den…”

  Tharne rushed from behind his desk across the room. He grasped the boy by the collar, yanked him up straight, and spat a single angry word. “What?”

  Terror filled the boy’s eyes as he choked out his response. “It… it was Capt’n Rikton. He said… the ebon eye was up there…”

  Draigo let out a soft whistle. The ebon eye—the legacy of Tharne’s brother. The size and shape of a human eye, it was that black artifact that had given him the power to unite the clans.

  “Blast Rikton! He knows that place is dangerous.” Tharne shuddered with anger. All of sudden, his face fell. He dropped the youth, rushed to his desk, and frantically rummaged through it.

  A few moments later, Tharne stood back and slammed the desk closed with exasperation. “Damn that Solais, it’s gone!”

  Draigo narrowed an eye him. “What’s gone?”

  “A dispel magic scroll,” Tharne sighed with exasperation. He fixed his gaze on the young teen. “When did they leave?”

  The youth coughed as he rubbed his sore neck. “A little while ago, Capt’n.”

  “Right,” Tharne nodded, his brow furrowing into deep creases. “Stay put, I’ve got a few more questions for you.” He grabbed Draigo by the arm and dragged him into the hall. Draigo could see the fear in his eyes as Tharne whispered a single phrase to him. “Go get your real sword.”

  Draigo had not drawn a real blade since leaving Isandor. The Shin Tauri code of honor demanded that one’s true blade only be drawn in defense of king, country, or matters of life and death. Based on Tharne’s reaction, this seemed to be the latter.

  For the first time in nearly two years, Draigo pulled out his true blade from its hiding place aboard the Dark Halo. The former general paused a moment. Mixed emotions played through his mind as he again held the emerald sheath adorned with violet lotus flowers. Visions of his old life briefly flashed through his mind, ending with an image of his impetuous nephew. Kortiama reminded him so much of the lad.

  Kortiama!

  The thought of the young woman’s peril roused Draigo from his musings. He swiftly fastened the sheath to his belt, then headed from the cabin and disembarked the Dark Halo. He found Tharne waiting for him with a pair of horses at the end of the dock.

  “Just us?” Draigo asked as he vaulted onto his mount.

  “‘Fraid so,” Tharne said, his expression grim. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  The duo set off at a gallop, soon leaving Renere behind. There was little time to talk as they raced along the shores of Loch Dasati. At the south end, a winding path led up from the valley. Tharne explained the rest to Draigo as they climbed to the top of the southernmost peak.

  “At the summit lies the Villa Dasati, the former home of my brother and his wife.”

  “Eboneye and Liadha,” Draigo clarified.

  “Aye, the same.” Tharne nodded. “After Berngal died, Liadha sealed the place with dark magic. There’s a barrier around the house proper that only one of her own blood can break.”

  Draigo pressed his lips together. “Hmm. May I ask why?”

  Tharne let out a hollow laugh. “It was sort of a red herring for Rikton. She knew he’d be searching for the mandate, and what better place than my brother’s home?”

  “That makes sense.” Draigo noted the haunted look in Tharne’s eyes. “I’m guessing there’s more to I,t though.”

  “There is.” Tharne’s expression darkened further. “Rikton sent a few expeditions up here. Almost no one came back.”

  Draigo arched a single eyebrow. “Liadha left more than just a barrier behind.”

  “Indeed.” Tharne grimaced. “Ghostly creatures patrol the grounds, killing anyone that gets too close.” He paused a moment, his voice growing soft. “I declared the place off limits, but that didn’t help much. Young folks saw it as a challenge—nicknamed it the Ghoul’s Den. Those that wanted to prove themselves would spend the night up there. Some lived to tell the tale,”—his voice caught in his throat—“Some did not…”

  Draigo felt a wrenching in his gut. In his time as a general, he had grown accustomed to loss, but losing someone so young was never easy. Still, something nagged at the back of his mind. “Why didn’t you just ask Liadha to get rid of the creatures?”

  Tharne sighed with exasperation. “I did. She told me I needed better control over my people.”

  “Hmm, that seems a bit harsh,” Draigo rumbled.

  “Have you met my sister-in-law?” The side of Tharne’s mouth twisted upward.

  “Can’t say I have, nor that I want to,” Draigo responded with equal irony. “Still, your niece seems quite spirited. How is it she never came up here before?”

  Tharne let out a short laugh. “Thankfully, I got a bit smarter with age”—he leaned toward him in the saddle—“I had magic wards put around the villa to stop folks from entering. Of course, anyone adept at magic, or with the right scroll, can still bypass them.”

  “Ah, so that’s what the girls stole from your study.” Draigo nodded with understanding.

  “Aye.” Tharne signed once more. “Between the girls and Rikton, they’ve managed to outflank me. My dear brother has been flashing a ‘magic’ amulet around town that’s supposed to bypass the barrier.”

  Draigo frowned. “Is that possible?”

  “Not even remotely.” Tharne shook his head. “Blood magic is the hardest to break.”

  Draigo’s brow creased. Tharne was probably right. If the amulet was that powerful, Rikton would have used it already to gain entrance to the villa.

  Tharne’s expression grew pained. “He bragged he was going to use it to claim our brother’s greatest treasure, the ebon eye itself—but it was all a ruse to tempt my niece and her crew. Sure enough, they fell for it. They nicked the amulet off him and took off for the villa shortly thereafter.”

  Draigo only knew Kortiama from afar. While she did appear somewhat impulsive, he couldn’t fathom why she would put herself, and her friends, in so much danger. All at once, it dawned on him. “She wants to get the ebon eye before Rikton does—for your sake.”

  Tharne hung his head. “Aye. I’m afraid so. If my brother were truly to find the ebon eye, he would wrest control of the clan from me, mandate or not.”

  Tharne’s head was bowed, but Draigo could sense how torn he was over
his niece’s misguided attempt to protect him. Draigo made up his mind then and there. He would do all in his power to save this heroic, if rash, young lady—even if it cost him his very life.

  It was nearing sunset when Draigo caught his first glimpse of their destination. Before them laid a huge walled villa, half fortress and half palatial estate. The tiled roof was definitely orange, but even the smooth walls shone blood-red in the rays of the setting sun.

  A feeling of foreboding washed over him as they spurred their horses forward. “Remind me again why it’s just the two of us?”

  Tharne grimaced as they closed on the villa. “Anyone who knows anything about magic is sure to realize the amulet’s a fake. If they were to see Korti enter the house, they’d know for certain she’s Liadha’s heir.”

  That secret won’t do her much good if she’s dead, Draigo thought. Still, saying as much wouldn’t do any good at this point.

  When they reached the villa, the wards were down, as Tharne had surmised. The main gate stood wide open before them. The riders galloped straight through, but reigned in immediately beyond. A wide courtyard spread out before them, the entire place bathed in an eerie silence. Withered trees stood scattered around the yard, with not a single bird or animal in sight. What was once probably a lush garden lay across the yard, now overgrown with weeds and thickets.

  The villa itself appeared rather ominous. Despite the falling night, the windows remained dark. A cold wind kicked up behind them, adding to the feeling of dread.

  Without a word, the duo spurred their mounts across the yard. There was no sign of the teens or their horses, but the front door lay partially open. As they drew up in front of the villa, shouts emanated from somewhere inside.

  “That sounds like Solais!” Tharne cried in dismay.

  Both men leapt off their mounts, drawing their blades as they ran for the house. They slowed only to push against the door, which creaked eerily as it swung inward.

  The inside of the villa was pitch black, the sun now set behind the mountains. The shouts had stopped as well, the house grown deathly silent. Draigo felt an unnatural chill in the air. Goosebumps formed on his arms despite his firm resolve.

  A dim light suddenly sprang up around them. Tharne held a solitary lantern in his off hand.

  A wide foyer extended around them, its ceiling hidden in the darkness above. A black and white checkered floor extended across the room past two side entrances. A circular stairwell rose on either side of the back wall, then met at a long landing before climbing out of sight.

  Draigo noted this all in an instant, his eyes riveted to the bodies scattered around the room. A pair of ghostly black-robed figures hovered above the two in the center. More ghost-like forms dragged the rest out of sight.

  “Korti! Solais!” Tharne cried, his voice filled with anguish. He charged past Draigo straight for the two downed girls.

  The hovering figures turned their attention toward them. No faces could be seen inside those thick hoods, but a skeletal hand reached for Draigo as he lashed out with his sword. The hand grazed his arm as the blade passed through it. It met little resistance, yet the figure recoiled, nonetheless. A horrible screech emanated from beneath its hood before it spun around and fled up into the darkness.

  Draigo’s shoulder felt ice-cold at the point where the figure had touched him. He shook off a momentary wave of weariness as Tharne drove off the second creature. “What were those things?”

  “Wraiths,” Tharne hissed.

  Wraiths? That explained why his blade went through it. Wraiths were like ghosts—they could pass through solid objects and vice-versa.

  Draigo planted himself over the two girls as Tharne bent down to check on them. He could sense their energy, though it seemed rather weak.

  “How are they?” he asked while scanning the darkness above and around them.

  “They’re alive”—Tharne breathed a sigh of relief—“which is more than I can say if those wraiths latch unto us. If they do, they’ll drain your life-force in a matter of minutes.”

  That was why Draigo suddenly felt so weary. How do you fight something that you can’t touch and can’t let touch you? Still, he had felt something when he swiped at it. Maybe it has to turn semi-solid in order to attack?

  Years of training and battle experience formulated into a strategy in his mind. “Quick, stand back-to-back around the girls,” Draigo urged his companion. “Don’t swing at a wraith until it reaches for you.”

  Tharne grumbled as he stood and turned his back to Draigo. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  The two men waited wordlessly, eyes fixed on the edge of the darkness. Abruptly, a wraith reappeared, hurtling at them with frightening speed.

  “Here it comes again!” Draigo warned.

  “And the other one!” Tharne hissed.

  A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed the second wraith was diving at them. Draigo tilted his head so he could see each creature out of the corner of an eye.

  “Wait for it.” Draigo cautioned. The wraiths were almost within striking distance.

  “Wait for it,” Draigo repeated. Skeletal hands appeared from under each wraith’s robe.

  “Now!” Draigo shouted.

  He swung at the dark figure, his blade connecting with something almost solid. The wraith flinched backward and uttered an inhuman scream. Its body shook, then abruptly evaporated. All that lingered was its fiendish cry that also faded after a few moments.

  Draigo glanced behind him just in time to see the second wraith retreating back into the darkness.

  “Dragon dung!” Tharne swore. “The blasted thing got me!”

  “Keep your guard up,” Draigo warned. As the words left his lips, two more wraiths came flying down at them.

  “How many of these things are there?” Tharne cried in frustration.

  “As many as there are,” Draigo responded in a matter-of-fact tone. “Now concentrate.”

  They repeated the same tactic. This time both wraiths dissolved into nothingness.

  “Wah-hoo!” Tharne cried with exultation. “Take that, you bilge rat!”

  “Concentrate,” Draigo admonished as two more wraiths swooped down toward them. At the same time, a third one flew in from the side.

  “Now that’s just not playing fair!” Tharne protested.

  “Just focus on one of them,” Draigo directed his companion.

  “What about the third?” Tharne griped.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “You better!”

  They used the same strategy. Draigo dispatched the nearest wraith with one slice, then immediately swung about. Of the two remaining creatures, one retreated to the shadows, but the other had latched onto Tharne.

  Draigo caught the creature with a vicious upswing. It shrieked, but clung tenaciously to Tharne. In the blink of an eye, the expert swordsman changed directions, bringing his blade down on the stubborn wraith.

  Finally, the creature let go its grip. It arched its back and let out a horrific scream as it dispersed into oblivion.

  In the meantime, Tharne had visibly paled. The tall pirate staggered where he stood. “I—I don’t feel so good. I think—I need to sit down.”

  Draigo helped the man to the floor next to the two passed-out girls. Just as he had seated Tharne, two more wraiths came flying down at them from opposite sides.

  Draigo firmly planted himself between the two girls and Tharne. With a deep breath, he stilled his mind in the way of the Shin Tauri. His breathing slowed, and with it the world around him. He could feel his spirit. The energy surged out from his abdomen and into his arms and legs.

  The wraiths must have sensed it as well. They came straight for him, ignoring the figures on the ground at his feet. The creatures drew within striking distance, two bony skeletal hands reaching for his still form.

  All at once, Draigo lashed out. With seemingly impossible speed, he sent his blade spinning in complete circular arc. It sliced throu
gh first creature, then continued on, slashing through the next. Both wraiths recoiled, their twin shrieks echoing through the room as they disappeared into nothingness.

  Draigo breathed a heavy sigh, hoping that was the last of them.

  “Is it over?” Tharne mumbled at his feet.

  Draigo’s response died on his lips. Something huge floated at the edge of the darkness—something that made the hair on his neck stand on end.

  A giant, black-robed creature glided into the light. Easily ten feet tall, it looked similar to the other wraiths, but this one wore no hood. Its skeletal head was uncovered except for a dark crown. Two glowing yellow eyes fixed themselves on him, sending a chill up Draigo’s spine.

  “Wraith Lord…” Tharne mumbled beneath his feet. “Worse than… a broadside from a Man of War…”

  Draigo didn’t doubt Tharne’s words. The wraiths were dangerous enough, but this thing looked like it could decimate an entire crew.

  The wraith lord came toward them, but unlike the others, it did not rush. It seemed quite sure of itself. Draigo could sense the energy the creature exuded. From what he could feel, it had every right to be confident.

  Retreating would have been the best course of action, but moving Tharne and the girls was out of the question. With no other recourse, Draigo took a firm stand in front of the downed pirate and his daughters. This will take everything I have. Hopefully it’s enough.

  The Shin Tauri master slowed his breath, then reached inside to find his spirit. A low hum came from his throat as he brought the energy forth. The sound slowly rose in crescendo as the energy coursed up through his arms. It expanded out into his blade, the air around it catching fire. Yellow flames danced up and down the shaft, yet that wasn’t all—trails of intense blue lightning arced between the flames.

  The giant wraith paused at the sight of the brilliant sword, but a second later resumed its inexorable march toward them. It closed to within a few yards, then lashed out with frightening speed.

  Draigo was ready for it. He side-stepped the great skeletal hand and sliced through its wrist with his flaming blade.