The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep

by Scott D. Muller

  In a way, he had great respect for the mountain people, although he hadn’t met many since his childhood, and that was so long ago, it seemed more like a dream than reality. But, those he had met at the Keep seemed to be very independent, like Gretta.

  Dra’kor jerked awake when the fire snapped loudly and looked around the small fortress wide-eyed. He relaxed after seeing everything was all right, yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I must have dozed off for a few seconds …” he mumbled. “Couldn’t have been long, the fire is still pretty high.”

  Men’ak chuckled a little and stirred the coals with a stick.

  “What?”

  “Nothing —,” Men’ak smiled, “— just had a thought, that’s all. It’s been an eye-opener of a trip.”

  “I hear that! Is everything quiet?”

  “Yes, it’ll be dawn soon. Another day filled with opportunity to get — killed.”

  Dra’kor frowned at the sarcasm.

  “Moon’s almost down,” Men’ak said, peeking through the cracks in the rocks.

  “Do you want to get an early start for Three Rivers?” Dra’kor asked, stretching and moving closer to the fire.

  “I don’t know …,” Men’ak grumbled. “Do you think that’s wise? Beasts might still be out there and we wouldn’t be able to see them until it’s too late.”

  “Suppose we could wait for the sun to come up a bit. Having better light might be a good idea,” a still sleepy Dra’kor agreed as he yawned.

  “Light would be good,” said Men’ak, as he briskly rubbed his legs. “Warm sunshine would be a bonus.”

  Dra’kor rolled his eyes, but just the same, he cuddled up next to the fire.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  Dra’kor rolled to his side and tried to stretch out. His back hurt, his legs were stiff and his neck was tight. Sleeping in a small cramped stone hut was not something his body was used to.

  “I’m just a little anxious to get into town. I can’t wait to spend a night in a real bed,” he chuckled. “And be behind a nice sturdy wall.”

  “Here! Here!” Men’ak echoed, agreeing with his reasoning.

  Men’ak pictured a stuffed feather bed in a room with a big fireplace. He longed for his small room at the Keep. At least it was warm and dry and there was plenty of food. Here on the road, he was always hungry.

  “Do we have any food left?” Dra’kor reaching for his pack. “I’m very hungry for some reason —”

  “— Not much left, but I suppose we can eat Grit’s.” Men’ak offered up, looking through his own pack and only finding a few small pieces of dried sausage and a hard roll.

  Dra’kor looked up and saw a tear in Men’ak’s eye. “I supposed we could,” he said solemnly. “I’m sure he’d want us to have it,” he quickly added.

  Men’ak nodded as he pulled Grit’s pack close, “You’re probably right. Grit would want us to have it.”

  He hefted Grit’s pack and slid it across the floor to Dra’kor. They both stared it for a time, not feeling quite right about taking his possessions. Finally, Dra’kor leaned over uneasily and grabbed the leather bag, setting it between his legs. He untied the rawhide cord and flung the cover back. The smell reached him first as he rummaged around for the bread and cheese.

  “Well, will you look at that,” Dra’kor grinned, pulling out a tightly wrapped package. “Maybe Gretta does have a hankering for Grit. She packed him smoked fish!”

  Men’ak burst out laughing and contorted his mouth, making a face that let Dra’kor know that he was as surprised as he was.

  “No wonder the wolven were after us,” he roared, “they were really after the fish!”

  “Can you blame them?”

  The two looked at each other, knowing they were thinking the same. “The catomen too!” they both roared at the same time.

  “Nothing says - ‘here kitty-kitty’, like smoked fish!” Men’ak said, laughing so hard he cried.

  They both wished their friend were there with them. They missed him dearly.

  “I miss him —”

  “Me too, Men’ak! Me too.” Dra’kor chipped in.

  “You think we’ll ever see him again?”

  “No telling, but I hope so.”

  Dra’kor unwrapped the cloth and split the fish in two, grabbing the spine and pulling the meat free. He handed the half with the bone to his friend and watched as he turned it upside down and set it on an oval flat rock. He pulled off a chunk and popped it into his mouth.

  “Mmm!” moaned Men’ak, licking his fingers. “I’m starving!”

  Dra’kor grinned, “Grit’s gonna be angry when he finds out we’ve eaten his fish.”

  “Mad as a hive of bees hit with a stick!” Men’ak said.

  Dra’kor nodded as he ripped off another bite, placed it on top of a torn corner of flat bread and shoved it into his mouth.

  After eating the fish, some bread and the last bit of cheese, Dra’kor scraped the cloth clean of every morsel using his hunting knife and licked his fingers, trying to get every remaining flake.

  “That was so good!” he cheerfully mumbled with his mouth full of the last bite.

  “Too bad it’s all gone,” Men’ak sighed.

  They packed their things. Now that the food was gone, Dra’kor managed to wedge Grit’s pack into his, which would make it easier to carry and leave him with a free hand for his sword. He handed Men’ak Grit’s water skin to put into his pack. The sun had crept over the horizon and filtered sunlight was beginning to poke its way through the rocks into the make-shift lean-to.

  “Ready?”

  Men’ak had the spear pointed at the door. “Sure. Ready as I’ll ever be — I suppose!” He jabbing the dead wolven with the business end of his weapon assuring himself it was truly dead.

  Dra’kor strained as he moved the heavy rock out of the way and wove a spell to fling the dead wolven out of the entry. The magic hummed deeply as it pushed the dead beast a few feet. Mostly it just stirred up the dirt. He backed down the entry, wedged his feet against the beast, and pushed with all his might, turning the beast to the side and making just enough room to wiggle through. He used his boot to push dirt and rocks, along with most of the gore, out of the way.

  Dra’kor turned around and held his sword in front, as he crawled on his belly out of the lean-to, trying to avoid the gore puddle from the dead beast. The beast was still partially blocking the door and Dra’kor could smell the taint and feel the rough fur as he slid past. It made his stomach sour.

  “Hold your breath when you crawl out — the beast reeks!” he said.

  Men’ak quickly followed and soon the two were standing in the clear morning air looking over the damage they had inflicted the night before.

  The dead wolven on top of the lean-to was lying on its side, mouth open, tongue to the side. It was larger than it had appeared from inside the fort and looked exactly the way Barack had described it. There was another lying dead about ten feet from the fort, a fatal wound sliced across its neck.

  “We got three of them,” said Men’ak.

  “Don’t remember the third, but it was probably luck with the blade when we were just stabbing through the rocks.

  Men’ak said nothing. He just stood staring at the dead beasts.

  “Barack was spot on when he described the wolves,” Dra’kor said, nodding at the beasts.

  “I thought he was daft!”

  Men’ak jabbed at the wolf-like beast with his spear, pushing it onto its side a bit more so that he could get a better look at the paws.

  “Damn! Those are huge claws,” he said, pushing them around with the tip of the blade.

  “Teeth look like they could do serious damage too,” Dra’kor uttered under his breath, recalling the shredded leather vest that Haagen wore, although he wasn’t sure if it was the teeth or claws that did the damage. Either way, the animal was a terrifying foe and he wouldn’t want to have to defend himself with just a knife and a prayer.

  Dra’kor stood
up straight and took a good look around. He didn’t see anything moving on the hill or in the trees, so he extended his hand and sent out magic feelers. He didn’t know if they would work on the wolven, but figured they might since Men’ak’s wards had fired the previous night. His magic didn’t find anything.

  “We better get a move on,” he said, shrugging, “nothing else for us to see here. Seems like the other beasts went home, but I wouldn’t count on it staying that way.”

  “None too soon for my liking!” said Men’ak, as he cleared his throat and spat. He slammed his boot into the dead wolven just for malice before turning to go.

  The two magi started the climb up the steep part of the trail toward the top of the small mountain pass that led down to the valley on the other side. They cut across the mountain at an angle, not following the series of steep switchbacks the wagons used. When they crested the top, they had a clear view of Three Rivers down in the valley below. It wasn’t as big as they expected, but it had a couple dozen buildings and a few small homes. The entire compound was surrounded by a tall wall of sharpened logs. By Dra’kor’s estimation, the logs were at least twice as high as a man was. Tall enough to keep out most creatures of the night, and those that could get in, well, it didn’t matter anyway!

  As best they could tell, they couldn’t see any movement, but they were still a long way off. They started down the wagon path that zigzagged across the mountain from the low pass. The switchbacks were tight and it seemed that they were making little progress for how far they walked.

  “We’ll never get there at this rate,” Men’ak said, as he kicked at a loose rock on the road.

  “We could try to go across country,” Dra’kor suggested as he stepped off the road.

  They tried walking straight down the mountain, but found that they couldn’t keep their balance and the steep rocky slope made their knees hurt and they risked twisting an ankle.

  “This is rougher that I thought it would be,” said Dra’kor, as he flung his arms out to keep from slipping as his foot got stuck between two boulders.

  “Guess we need to take the road,” Men’ak grumbled as he stepped back onto the road at the next opportunity.

  Dra’kor nodded, “It’s a lot steeper than it looks.”

  At least on the road they were keeping up a good pace. They hoped to make the town by midday. Dra’kor paused to take a swig of water and looked back up the trail. They had actually made good progress, but because the mountains were so big and the countryside so open, it felt like they were going nowhere.

  They had gone far enough that they could no longer hear the falls and even the mist was obscured by the trees. The air was crisp this time of day and the scent of fresh pine filled the air. They were almost to the valley and the forest had thinned out, mostly scruff pine, pinions scattered about, and sometimes a white pine. Only a tall pine here and there dotted the lower landscape, the rest had been cleared and the sharp tops of stumps were seen dotting the landscape. A small creek crossed their path and it was lined with aspen and willow, but the water-hungry trees didn’t venture far out into the valley, they stayed on the slope where they would gather more moisture when the storms crossed the mountains.

  They paused for a short time, sitting on a couple big rocks while Dra’kor refilled his water skin and dipped his hat into the small creek. The cool water felt good on his head as he poured it over and rubbed it through his hair.

  “Nice valley!’ Men’ak said, staring out across the expanse.

  “As good as they get I reckon,” Dra’kor replied.

  Dra’kor noticed a small trench dug into the hill where the creek widened. He saw a sluice gate made of wood that kept the water from being diverted into the trench. He followed the trench with his eyes and saw that it led down into the valley where the earth had been plowed.

  Dra’kor stared out into the valley. It was mid-morning and he fully expected the fields surrounding the town to be full of folks tending the crops. There were no wagons, no oxen, and no tools. It was still early in the spring, but it seemed unusual to see rows of tilled fields with no green. He knew that farmers got up early. His Da had plenty of farmers working his Lord’s fiefdoms and he vividly remembered being up before dawn and working his chores during the years when his father had desired for him to learn about his kingdom.

  He had hated the work at the time, but had grown to understand what his father had been trying to instill in him, by making him work hard manual labor. His father knew well that those at the bottom supported those at the top and if they were content, there was a lower risk of revolt. The best way to understand another man’s toil was to spend a few months in his shoes.

  Men’ak’s wards went off at the same time that Dra’kor heard the howl, “Wolven!” They both shouted at the same time. They ran as quickly as they could down the slope, looking for a flat spot they could use to fight. Men’ak moved too quickly cover Dra’kor’s back. They slowly rotated in a tight circle, scanning the horizon for movement.

  It was mere seconds before they spotted the first beast in a full run heading straight for them. The muscular beast was covering the ground three, four paces at a bound.

  “By the Ten! Look at how fast they move,” said Men’ak, his eyes wide in awe. “We don’t stand a chan —”

  “Here it comes,” Dra’kor shouted, maneuvering to face the beast.

  Men’ak pushed his spear forward as the wolven jumped for Dra’kor’s throat and caught the beast in its chest with the spear. He held the back of the spear on the ground, leveraged the beast’s forward momentum, using the spear as a lever and hefted the beast overhead, and threw it onto its back behind them. Every muscle in his body tightened as he strained to keep control of the weapon, which bent to the point where he was certain it was going to shatter.

  Dra’kor quickly moved in with his sword and drove it deep into the beast’s throat before it could gain its feet, while Men’ak turned to scan the horizon as another two wolven ran in to join the fray.

  The two smaller wolven circled slowly, teeth bared and fangs dripping with drool. They growled as they tried to herd the two magi. They darted in and out, nipping at their legs, trying to hamstring the lads.

  “Don’t let them corner us,” Dra’kor yelled.

  Dra’kor spun an explosive fireball and let it fly at the nearest beast. It exploded in its maw, knocking it backwards off of its feet, but didn’t really harm the beast at all, as it rolled over and shook its head.

  “Those don’t seem to do much,” Men’ak cried out.

  “No, but they distract them,” Dra’kor shouted back.

  Dra’kor swung his blade back and forth in front of his waist as the wolven stalked and feigned charging, only to reverse directions and circle back around. Dra’kor lunged, nicking the beast’s rear, eliciting a yelp.

  Men’ak shouted, “Dra’kor, I have an idea. Use the rocks!”

  “— How?”

  “Lift them and throw them at the beasts. We know magic won’t harm them, but rock is physical and you killed one yesterday using a rock.”

  Dra’kor shrugged, “It’s worth a try —”

  Dra’kor used his empty hand to weave a spell and lift a good five stone weight boulder high into the air. He motioned with his arm throwing the boulder at the nearest of the wolven. It slammed into the beast from behind, breaking its back. The beast howled loudly and tried to run away using its front paws to claw at the ground as it dragged its rear quarter. Dra’kor rushed in and using both hands and hacked down on the head, splitting the skull open.

  “It worked,” he yelled back over his shoulder at Men’ak who was fighting the other wolven that had attacked when Dra’kor had moved to kill the crippled beast.

  Dra’kor cast a spell onto his sword and sent it flying into the last of the beasts. The sword impaled the beast and Men’ak finished it off with a deathblow into its mouth with his spear, giving it a wicked twist at the end. The beast twitched and quivered as it died.

/>   Men’ak yanked his spear free and wiped it on the glossy coat of the demon dog. Dra’kor retrieved his sword and did the same.

  “No time to waste. If they know we are here, we are sure to face more. We need to move, now!” Dra’kor grunted as he tried to catch his breath.

  The two magi, already tired from the fight and covered with sweat, took off running down the valley toward the village. The steep road jarred their knees as they landed on their heels, trying to run full out down the trail. Their legs felt like lead and they stumbled as they ran.

  “Throwing the rocks worked well,” Men’ak panted.

  “That was a great idea!” Dra’kor wheezed back, complimenting his friend. He pumped his arms as he ran and concentrated on not twisting an ankle or jamming his spear into the ground.

  For the first time, Dra’kor thought they had a fighting chance against the wolven, as long as they weren’t attacked by too many at a time.

  “Run!” Dra’kor shouted. “I see more coming out of the woods.”

  “I can’t run anymore …,” Men’ak said, slowing down and stopping. Dra’kor took a couple more strides before he stopped and looked back seeing Men’ak bent over panting. He shuffled back up the hill.

  Dra’kor bared his teeth, “Then I guess we face them here —”

  The pack of wolven slowed as they approached, which was just fine with Dra’kor. It gave them time to catch their breath and strategize.

  “— We should use the rocks; try not to wear ourselves out.” Dra’kor growled hoarsely, his throat dry from running.

  Men’ak nodded but didn’t reply.

  Dra’kor wove his first spell picking up a rock from behind the wolven and bringing it down hard on the beast farthest from the pack. The first missed, just glancing off the beast’s front quarter. The beast’s head whirled as it searched for its would-be assailant.

  Dra’kor picked up another boulder and took his time, lining up the trajectory before he let it loose. The rock made a hollow cracking sound as it connected with bone. The wolven collapsed to the ground as the boulder smashed its skull.