Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One)

by Reaves, Troy

  The mention of food made Gregor realize just how hungry he was. The interior of the house was simple compared to its exterior. There was a wood stove and a table with four chairs. Two beds were positioned near one another off to one corner of the single room, and a beautifully carved bassinet had been positioned under the only window, not far from the larger of the two beds. Gregor noted a bit of late sun still shone on the baby bed. Delicate vines creeping in the window had formed a halo around the upper edges of it, and small pink flowers had sprouted everywhere. "Three generations of huntsmen were raised here and slept in that tiny haven. The scent of the flowers never quite goes away. We have always just let the petals drop where they will. Never more than one child, and always an extra chair at the table, just in case there was a visitor." Dakin smiled and motioned toward the table. "Go on and rest a bit. Might want to take the armor off. Gets a bit warm in that chain mail, I would imagine. If you would like, there is a shirt and leggings in the chest near the stove there. You could take a chance to clean your undergarments and dry them by the stove while we eat."

  Gregor thanked his host, and removed his chainmail armor. Pegs along one wall meant for hides served to keep the armor, and he found himself very comfortable in the spare clothing the hunter offered. Gregor felt the tension of the past few days drain from him, as the smells of cooking venison and the gentle tug of the perfume from the flowers penetrated him. It was a simple meal of meat and hardtack, with warm broth to wash away the journey through the wood. Gregor was comforted to find a warm meal with such a gentle soul. He and Dakin spoke little, except for praising the food the forest provided. Each man concerned himself with the business of eating. The meal finished soon enough, and Dakin pulled the plug on a large jug in an almost conspiratorial fashion. "I have been saving this for a special occasion. Trader said it is a fine brew. Called it the drink of kings. Haven't tried it yet, but what better time than now to share it? Don't know about ‘the drink of kings’ part of it, but the scent is promising. Care for a cup with me?"

  Gregor hesitated before answering, and decided the truth was the best reply. "I have not imbibed anything stronger than ale, and so would not be one to measure its worth. If it pleases you, I would share a cup with you."

  Dakin took two fine glasses from a cabinet filled with various herbs and seasonings. "These poor cups have seen little need of use with me. My father acquired them for my mother when she carried me in her belly. A special gift for the next of our line, I suppose. My mother was a city girl when they met, and wine was a treat for her they could scarcely afford." Dakin filled the glasses with two fingers of the dark golden fluid and bid Gregor to rise from his chair. "A toast to new friends. May we each find our paths clear, and the breezes gentle in our faces as we travel them." Dakin sampled the amber liquid with a smack of his lips. "Well, I will say this for it, kings may frown, but it suits me just fine." Gregor felt his face flush as the liquid passed his lips; the burning sensation it caused ran across his tongue to his belly with no hint of lessening. There was a warm glow, almost a haze that passed across his eyes, as Gregor sat down hard in his chair. He felt an awkward smile break across his face as he nodded his head in agreement. He made note to sip slowly lest he embarrass himself.

  The drink gave flight to Dakin’s words, even as it quieted Gregor. The woodsman had learned much of recent events from the traders and fellow huntsmen he had encountered. Despite the numbing of his own tongue, Gregor was able to learn a great deal from Dakin. The young warrior asked a few slurred questions, cautiously sipping his own drink, when the hunter would pause to take a breath or refresh his own goblet. Goblins did indeed exist, and were making quite a nuisance of themselves for the merchant travelers. The demand for trained blades and marksmen had steadily increased, and prices for goods traded between the cities had grown with them. Local militias had their hands full with the usual brigands, and the raiding parties of the goblins were staying well outside the reach of the regular soldiers. There were rumors of worse things, as well.

  Orcs, the boar-faced humanoids that had infrequently raided isolated villages for pillage and slaves, seemed to be growing bolder and more organized. These tribal creatures grew easily a head taller than the average man and had great strength. The orcs had long ago learned rudimentary metalworking, fashioning brutal weapons similar to the great axes and two-handed swords wielded by human warriors. The humanoids’ great strength allowed them to wield the weapons with one hand and carry hide shields with the other that were large enough to use as makeshift sleds to carry away their ill-gotten spoils. Villages that before had been able to repel the creatures could no longer stand against them. Villagers had been slaughtered, and piles of ash and cinders were all that remained of their homes and farms.

  The demand for iron and steel had made wealthy men of traders and blacksmiths alike, as the call for arms and armor increased. Governors of the various lands were under constant attack by the farmers and tradespeople in the outlying areas for their lack of aid. The city dwellers were safe enough behind their walls of wood and stone, but times were growing treacherous for all, including the leaders of men walled within their homes. The slums of the cities spawned their own evils, and as the populations grew with the displaced villagers, the number of brigands and rogues multiplied to exploit the newcomers. Brigands were banding together for safety, making the roads more dangerous. The larger packs of lawless men were mounting more effective strikes against the merchant caravans that carried wares between the cities and towns, and the wild predators of the wood grew fat on the bodies of those who fell in the resulting frequent raids. No one dared stay long enough to bury his or her dead. The merchants found the only safety in movement and the only profit in survival.

  "I tell you, Gregor, be cautious as you go. Silverwing must have you on a mission of some great need to send you out alone. I hope your skill is up to the swords you carry at your sides. Must be a very important trip you are making for Silverwing to equip you with such fine blades." Dakin looked at him intently, concern furrowing his brow. "You feeling okay, Gregor? You aren't looking so good. Looks like the drink has the best of you, as a matter of fact." Gregor was not feeling well at all. Dakin's words fell on deaf ears, as Gregor slipped into the darkness that had been closing in at the edge of his vision for some time.

  ***

  Gregor opened his eyes slowly to find nothing. Nothing so complete that even darkness was absent. He was aware of his own existence in spite of the complete lack of anything else around him. Gregor could only think that the drink, so sweet and burning at once, must have killed him. The God of Light must have been taking his time deciding how to deal with his monumental failure, holding him between the world he had left and the one in which he would spend eternity. Mists began to coalesce in the nothingness and the darkness became palpable. He felt pounding in his head the likes of which he had never known. The burning that had recently warmed his throat and belly suffused every part of his body. Gregor found his boots resting on a shiny, inky surface that held his weight, though it appeared as glassy as the smooth surface of an undisturbed lake. Odd waves moved just below the surface, and flashes of crimson light seemed to brighten random areas with no apparent pattern or purpose. He flexed his legs to jump away from one that burst just under his feet, and found he could not move.

  "Do not worry, Gregor. No harm will come to you here. You are my guest, and our meeting has been too long delayed. I consider that an error on my part. It was news to me that Lord Silverwing had taken a student. It seems his own failures have taught him nothing." The figure speaking seemed to form from the mists themselves as he emerged from the darkness. His appearance drew the random flashes into a rough circle that served to light the cloaked figure as he approached. A deep hood hid the face, and Gregor was both drawn to see the figure's face and terrified that the hood might be pulled back to expose it. "You see, it was intended that the last of the Golden Dragons should join his brethren at the foot of your God. What p
awns they were in a game they could not possibly understand, yet he managed to undo all my careful plans! Lord Galant Silverwing only managed to delay the inevitable, however, and you may rest assured he will be dealt with when I am ready. The hunter has become the hunted, and the Overseer has never failed to fulfill a contract. You are of little consequence to me, though my associate has taken a keen interest in something you possess." The form moved toward him with a rush, causing the robes he wore to flutter as if some great wind blew from nowhere. A clawed hand, roughly human but covered in shimmering scales that reflected the bloody light from the floor, emerged with the palm up as if seeking an offering or some kind. "You could give me that blade and perhaps you would no longer be of any interest to me at all. You might even be allowed to live. Come, farm boy, and give me the blade. You have only to desire to do so and I will take this weight from you. It is such a terrible curse you bear, and knowing you are powerless must make it all the worse for you."

  Gregor answered with a single thought, though his lips refused to give voice to the word in his mind. "No."

  The burning in every part of Gregor's body intensified as the tormentor's hand withdrew into the folds of his robe. "You will suffer greatly. The limits of my imagination will be tested with the tortures I will devise for your impudence. I can assure you, there are no limits to the pain I can bestow. Rest well for now, Gregor, knowing I will not come for you until your Master begs for mercy at my feet. Your mentor will be ready to greet you when at last I see fit to release you with death. Rest while you can." The nothingness returned and Gregor trembled.

  ***

  A reassuringly familiar voice brought him from his stupor, and light flooded his eyes. "Gregor, wake up! Oh my Goddess, what have I done? Gregor, please wake up! Master Silverwing is going to kill me if you don't wake up. Oh, thank the Goddess, you are breathing! Easy, boy. Thank all the heavens! You were out cold, and then you were thrashing about. You went dead still, and you stopped breathing and I thought you were dead for sure! Pumped your chest like a bellows, but you never moved. You okay? Speak to me, boy, please speak to me, Gregor!"

  "Stop shouting at me." Gregor thought his head would crack with the racket Dakin was making. He felt like a bull had kicked him square in the face and stomped on him for good measure. Every muscle sang its own caterwauling fury, and he couldn't move at all for several moments. The light through the window of Dakin's home told him it was still early morning, but Gregor thought it would take a bit of time before he was ready to get moving again. "It was just a dream. The drink, I guess."

  "That must have been a dream straight out of the hells to warm you like that. You were burning up when I touched you. Here, drink this." Dakin held out a wooden cup, but Gregor was hesitant. "No, don't worry. No more of the hair of that dog. That dog bit you good. Just some spring water and bitter herbs. Tastes terrible but it will make you feel better. Let me get you some breakfast if you have the stomach for it. Need to get your strength back after that fever. Never seen anything like that." Dakin mumbled to himself, while assembling the meal. "You have really got to stay away from the spirits. They definitely take you."

  Gregor tentatively sipped at the bitter water, and found it at least made his stomach stop burning. "You don't have to worry about that, Dakin. No, you don't have to worry about that at all!" The refreshing spring water brought him back to himself sooner that Gregor would have imagined possible. The sizzling boar meat gave him a hunger in no time, and it wasn't too much longer before he began turning over the events of his dream, if it was a dream. Gregor held on to the remnants that were trying to flee from his mind as much as he could, and what he remembered scared him. He doubted seriously it was a dream at all. Someone was after him and Master Silverwing. Gregor somehow knew they were after much more, as well.

  ***

  Gregor was enjoying the scent of the greenery since he had left Dakin. Knowledge brought as much comfort to the warrior as experience, and Gregor had learned a great deal of the woods while in Dakin's company. The hunter had taken time to tell him what plants and berries would aid the warrior if he caught fever again, or ran out of provisions before another hunter happened upon him. He smiled to himself, thinking the huntsman was probably enjoying the bounty of the wood again since Gregor had departed. The weather at least was favoring him, and he had made good progress since leaving Dakin.

  His host had packed a bag of dried meats and more of the bitter plants for Gregor before allowing him to go, saying it was the least he could do. "Loud as you are in that armor, I doubt you will find much game," Dakin had chided him when the hunter had sent him on his way. "Rest easy in your travels, Gregor. Master Silverwing is well thought of among the guardians of the woods, and as deep as your path seems to be taking you, they will probably be all you encounter until you make a road. The wolves shouldn't trouble you as long as you set a fire at night." Gregor had been glad for all the wisdom Dakin had shared.

  ***

  The howls at night didn't trouble him nearly as much as the remnants of the dream the drink had brought. The visitor had wanted the broken blade Gregor carried with him. Gregor could not fathom why unless the figure was somehow in league with the demon that had destroyed the Knights of Bella Grey. What kind of person would have dealings with a demon? Gregor wished Silverwing were present now. The visitation, which is how he had come to think of it, once more answered none of the questions that plagued him. It only brought more questions. All he could do is make his way to the city of Nactium and find the Temple of Light as instructed.

  The travel was made easier as Gregor followed the deer tracks, and he managed to keep a steady pace. There would be no hint of civilization for several days to come. Peace won out over the worries that Gregor had felt weighing him down, and he became more certain with each day that the God of Light was watching over him. He came to the bank of a great river that neatly broke his intended path. The armor Gregor wore made swimming across impossible, even if he had known how to swim. "Well, this is not supposed to be here. I must have gone off course somewhere, otherwise I am sure Master Silverwing would have mentioned this river." Gregor noted that the river seemed to bend in the rough direction he intended to travel, though what lay beyond the curve of the waters was obscured by trees huddling close to the banks. "Nothing to do but look for a bridge or shallows in that direction, I suppose." Gregor set off down the smooth bank along the river, trusting that he had made the right decision. The path fate had chosen for him would prove eventful very soon.

  ***

  There was trouble ahead. Gregor heard it long before he saw anything. He had been traveling along the river for the second day, still having no luck finding a place to cross, but glad to have the smooth path near the water's edge. Somewhere ahead he could hear the angry howling of a large number of wolves. A coarse, vulgar language that sounded completely alien to him answered the pack's throaty growling. Great shouts and cries of pain that were almost human grew in volume as Gregor ran alongside the river. Barking howls and yips filled the air to accompany the strange caterwauling. Gregor drew up abruptly to watch a curious melee that was taking place on an open area of grass near the river's opposite edge. Small, dark green and brown humanoids bearing long sticks tipped with yellowish bone shards were fending off a large pack of wolves. The beasts ran into the loose circle of poorly armed humanoids, attacking with vicious efficiency. Gregor could see no reason to fear either the wolves or the goblins from where he stood on the safety of the opposite bank, and moved closer for a better look. None of the participants took any notice of his arrival, so focused were they on their opponents' destruction. Gregor noticed almost immediately that the goblins seemed to be particularly intent upon protecting one of their number that jumped and screeched from the center of the circle. This individual was distinctive because, unlike the others, it wielded a short crude sword and carried a hide shield. There was a wolf's skull fastened to its head with what appeared to be straps formed of hide, and it was cloth
ed in makeshift hide armor as well. The center of the circle was littered with several bodies, both of slain wolves and goblins.

  The wolves also seemed to be guided by leaders of their own kind. Two larger wolves, one with an auburn cast to its fur and the other with a gray coat that blended to white, moved around the ring of goblins at opposite sides of the circle formed by the wolves. A growl or bark from one or both of them signaled a few wolves to break away from encircling the humanoids. Their intention was obvious as the wolves broke the ranks of the yelling goblins, with one of the wolves always angling its charge toward the goblin leader. This fact had not gone unnoticed by the shield-bearing leader, either. The largest concentration of the dead wolves lay at his feet. Still, despite his apparent success, the circle was growing tighter as the goblin force weakened with each attack. Gregor found he was hoping the wolves would kill the goblin leader.

  It seemed the large gray wolf had grown weary of seeing its brothers and sisters slain. There was no warning as the huge animal charged into the circle, knocking the goblins out of its path as they moved to block it. The goblin leader turned to take it head on, bracing his feet and bringing his shield full to face the beast. A great howl erupted from the large auburn wolf, and at once the wolves encircling the goblins moved as one to take the remaining spear-men. Gregor was entranced as the action unfolded. The auburn colored pack leader moved into the path of the spears before it, biting one in half with its terrible jaws and knocking another aside with its paw, as it surged toward the goblin leader. The large gray wolf quickly closed the distance between itself and the diminutive leader, and the goblin leader's full attention was focused on the great gray beast as it leapt into the air. The goblin was quick and resourceful, taking advantage of his position as he made himself as small as possible under his shield. He brought the short sword's blade through a small hole in the center of his shield and braced for the airborne wolf's impact. He had obviously practiced the maneuver many times before with success, and it served him well now. The gray wolf landed heavily on the shield and fell away. It did not struggle to rise, and Gregor said a small prayer for its sacrifice. The leader rose and shouted, apparently full of his victory, just in time to have his throat torn out. The clenching jaws of the fiery large wolf that had come from his rear had neatly delivered vengeance. The fight was ended with the goblin leader's death, as his followers fled to the woods. Few made it as far as the tree line before the pack had them, and Gregor doubted those that made it to the trees fared much better in the forest.