“You stay here,” he told the horse who seemed to understand, “I’m going to check out these tracks.” The horse gave a soft neigh as if to say, “Okay, but hurry.” He gave the horse another pat on its rump and looked to the ground.
The tracks were made by something small, but it couldn’t have been an animal as the prints looked to be the same as a man’s. And the arrows, though smaller than normal size, all seemed to be clustered in that general area. The footprints came from another direction, and Jaxon followed them. There seemed to be dozens of them, all in a pattern like a group out for a hunt. He continued to follow them, for several hundred feet until they stopped abruptly, as if whoever had made them disappeared into thin air.
Where the tracks stopped was a thick layer of leaves, and when Jaxon stepped on it, he fell through the earth. He landed on hard-packed dirt with a thud and only managed to avoid hitting his head on a root of a tree by a breath. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts and confusion about what happened and where he was. He was sitting at the beginning, or end, of a long tunnel, the walls lined with small torches, no bigger than a baby's arm. He grabbed one from the sconce that had been shoved into the wall and kept there by mud and who knew what else.
Jaxon’s initial thought had been to get out of there, but the tunnel and torches piqued his curiosity. He crouched and waddled his way down the tunnel and came to an intersection with one corridor going forward and another to the left. He noted there were no torches to the left, so he went that way, keeping his torch out in front of him and made his way down. On each side were cells large enough to fit a small man if he sat down. In one there were the skeletal remains of someone, their arm bone nestled in the skull’s mouth. Another held small animals weak, lethargic, and ready for death.
At the far end, he caught the glint of an eye and moved as quickly as he could. Holding the torch for the best lighting, he saw a figure curled on the floor either asleep or dead, Jaxon wasn’t sure which.
“Psst!”
When there was no response he began looking for the entrance to the cell.
“No use,” a weary, hopeless voice said. “I think it’s locked by magic.
The figure on the floor turned with great effort and a vast amount of pain. As they made their way closer to the bars, he could see why; there was a wound on their back that had gotten infected and already a feast for maggots. The stench quickly overwhelmed him, and Jaxon started gagging.
“Quiet, they’ll hear you, then you’ll be locked away.”
“What happened?” Jaxon asked, shielding his nose in the crook of his arm.
In the dancing flame and shadow, he could see it was a woman, a small one at that. She’d been stripped of her clothes and obviously left to die from her wounds, in what would be a slow and agonizing death. Jaxon pulled the wineskin of water from his side and offered it to the prisoner who motioned to pour it in her mouth through the small openings. He did so and was certain more was spilled than landed in her mouth, but she seemed satisfied.
“We were headed for a cave, me, a druid, and...” she paused for a moment, then continued, “my husband. We were ambushed by a bunch of Wilderen. I was shot with an arrow, but the others made it safe. Ya need to get there. I’ve no idea how you ended up here, but you have to get to that cave, maybe you know it, it’s towards the end of the mountain.”
Jaxon knew it very well. He used to escape there with a local girl from time to time when he was a boy. He’d never done anything, was always just a friend, but he loved her all the same and was resigned to the fact he’d never find anyone like her again. Jaxon shook his head like a dog shaking off water to clear his mind from the past. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Kiandra, my husband is...”
“Petram!” he said, excitement raising his voice. “He talked about you a lot, but never mentioned you were married.”
“Fuck’s sake this isn’t the time to go into that, you’ve things to do, not the least of which is to kill these bastards. The Druid can help with that.”
“We’ll come back for you,” Jaxon said, “I give you my word.”
Kiandra waved him away with the stump of her hand, and Jaxon saw that, unlike the other wound, this had been healing nicely. He was getting ready to ask her about it, but she would have none of that. “Why are you still here? Go!” With the last of her energy expelled, her head fell to the ground, eyes closed, and the body gone limp. Jaxon reached two fingers through the bar to touch her right above the missing hand and vowed again to come back for her. Even if it was for a proper burial.
Jaxon had about an inch to spare as he turned around, being careful not to burn himself with the torch, and then made his way back to the junction with as much stealth as he could muster. As he swiveled and crawled towards the hole he’d fallen into, he heard the neighs of his horse, a wild and terrible sound, before it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Jaxon moved more quickly and when he reached the opening was able to jump high enough to grab the side of the pit and pull himself up.
The Wilderen were devouring his horse alive. They made frantic, almost spastic movements as their too large for their mouth teeth tore into the flesh, puncturing internal organs, letting the blood flow. And the sound they made, reminded him of the woodcutter sawing logs for the winter fires. Frozen for a moment, Jaxon knew he only had seconds to decide what to do, and almost before making that choice, he began to lift himself out of the pit, tiptoeing into the woods nearby where he couldn’t be seen, and then running for his life.
Jaxon continued to run until his legs cramped and lungs burned. He tried to catch his breath and found it almost impossible. And still, he ran on, a limp from the cramps slowing him down. Exhausted and unable to run any longer, he sat beneath a tree to rest for a moment. The leaves above the tree he was leaning against began to rustle, and when he looked up, several Wilderen fell down on top of him, screaming and chattering in a way that made his skin crawl.
Jaxon frantically tried to shake them loose but their claws had dug deeply into his flesh, so he had to pull them off, taking bits of himself with them as he tossed them off. The Wilderen wasted no time and charged him once again, even as Jaxon punted them so far he lost sight of them. One that he missed grabbed his upper calf and began climbing up his body. Jaxon took both hands and turned its head until he heard the crack! Of bone-breaking, and it slid down landing on his foot like a rag doll. He jumped on the body, delighting in the sickening sounds of burst organs, and crunching bones and blood oozing from the nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. He ground his heel into the face until there was nothing left but a bloody paste soaking into the earth.
He knew the others would be back, these things were single-minded in their actions, and wouldn’t stop until they were dead, or they got to feast on his flesh. Jaxon didn’t plan on sticking around for long, and dashed off once again, his stamina given a boost by the adrenaline surge. Even the wounds he’d received, gave him no issues, despite blood flying from them as he made his way through the trees and undergrowth, leaving a trail for his pursuers to find. He had no intention of letting them catch up; he’d been ambushed once, fallen into a trap once, and he seldom repeated his mistakes.
Everything went by in a blur of browns and greens, with some occasional blue when the sky poked through. Sweat poured from him as if he’d just gotten out of a lake from a swim. His heart raced and felt like it was going to explode. Jaxon’s breaths became fast and shallow, each time he inhaled the air burned at his throat, and he swore he could taste blood. His lungs ached, felt raw and on fire. The cramps in his legs returned, but still, he kept on, even as he began to slow down and lose his balance, he remained focused on getting to the cave.
As the sun began to leave the sky for another day, Jaxon knew he was very close. Rather than take the main path to the entrance, he cut away from the road and made his through overgrown weeds and down the path of a shortcut. As he reached the clearing, he stopped in his tracks, mouth agape at the dead Wild
eren littering the ground. He walked over them, not caring if he stepped on them or not. The vague smell of burning meat lingered, though the charred bodies had already cooled.
“How many are there?” he said to himself.
Jaxon approached the mouth of the cave and saw several figures huddled around a fire. He called out to them and dropped to his knees, exhaustion finally having claimed him.
31: Caravan
Petram was the first to notice Jaxon collapsed at the entrance. He grabbed Da’Nel by the arm and dragged him over causing some confusion amongst the others. With a mouthful of stew, Da’Nel choked and coughed trying to spray it out of his mouth. As he was able to at last swallow, he noticed what Petram had made such a fuss about.
“Lower the barrier!” he yelled to Todrick.
Without question, he did as asked, and both Petram and Da’Nel dragged the body inside. There was a small almost imperceptible hum as the barrier was quickly put back in place. The others rushed up to see what was happening, and Kharisi kneeled down, pushing Petram out of the way.
“I know him,” he said. “Served as a Palace guard. But what’s he doing here?”
Da’Nel laid his hand on the man’s forehand. Kharisi saw the fingers glow slightly, then turn a dark brown color before he removed his hand and shook it as if he were trying to flick something off. “We’ll find out soon enough, but you need to hush. He’s been poisoned, most likely from the Wilderen.” Da’Nel looked up and pointed to Todrick. “You, Wizard, a hand here please.”
“I have a name you know,” he muttered, leaning down next to the Druid. Kharisi, Petram, and Jeremiah stood back watching the two work. A flurry of light and multiple colors flashed over the man’s face. Occasionally his body would twitch, and after a while, a putrescent green foam bubbled between his lips, which Todrick wiped away with the sleeve of his robe.
“Water!” he barked, and Kharisi ran for his wineskin that still had a good amount left. He handed it over and Todrick poured some into the man’s mouth.
Jaxon’s eyes opened with the look of someone who’d had a fright and began coughing and gasping for air. Da’Nel waved a hand over the fish belly white face and he calmed down in an instant. Kharisi bent down, grabbed Jaxon’s hand and held it between both of his.
“You’re safe Jaxon, you’ll be alright.”
“Is... is that really you, Kharisi?” Jaxon asked still feeling somewhat bewildered.
Kharisi smiled, happy that someone seemed to be glad to see him for once. “Yes, it’s me. Petram is here, and so is Jeremiah. You’ve no doubt seen Todrick in the castle, and the man who saved your life...”
“Helped save,” Todrick added.
Kharisi rolled his eyes at Jaxon which made him smile. “Helped save,” he continued, overemphasizing it, “is Da’Nel. A Druid. But why are you here? And what happened?”
“The King sent me to find you, and I suppose to bring you back or kill you.”
“You’ll do neither of those things,” Petram said, hand going for his weapon.
“Calm down, and let him finish,” Kharisi said, offering Jaxon his wineskin again. He drank profusely, belched, and continued on.
“The King, he’s gone mad, it’s like he isn’t himself.”
“He’s not,” Saerus said in his own voice.
Jaxon let out a gasp, eyes wide with shock before he passed out. Kharisi grabbed his head as it was about to hit a rock and gently laid him to rest. “You need to let me warn people before you do that!” he said with more than a shred of annoyance.
“It is pretty alarming,” Jeremiah said, making the others remember he was still there. “You can’t blame him.”
Da’Nel sighed, shook his head at them and snapped his fingers, bringing Jaxon back to full alertness.
“Sorry, not sure what came over me,” he said, sitting up, wrapping his arms around his legs.
“It’s okay, but listen, the one claiming to be King, isn’t Saerus. It’s his body, but not his mind, or essence. That is in me.”
“And it’s not the first time I’ve done that,” he whispered to Kharisi, who ignored the comment.
“But how is that possible?” Jaxon asked.
“I could explain it, but you wouldn’t understand,” Da’Nel said, losing patience. “Just know it happened and tell us what’s going on at the castle.”
Jaxon took a deep breath and began his litany of atrocities that had occurred. He talked about rounding up all the knob lickers (and apologized to Kharisi for that term), the hangings, beheadings, and all manner of bloodletting. Much of what he said corroborated what Jeremiah had experienced as well, but none of them were prepared for just how bad things had gotten. “I’d never have brought you back to him, I swear it!”
Petram wiped away a tear and clapped him on the shoulder. “We believe you,” he said. As if the touch from Petram released something, he looked over to the dwarf, half excited and half sad.
“When I fell into that trap of the Wilderens and was looking around, I found where they kept prisoners, and there was someone there who said that they were your wife.”
“What?” Petram bellowed. “You best not be joking!”
“I’m not! Honest!” Jaxon said as the sudden wild look in the dwarf’s eyes caused him to back away. “She was dying, been shot with an arrow, was poisoned, and... her hand was missing.”
Petram looked to Da’Nel and scratched at his chin still forgetting he had no beard. “Is it possible?”
“Anything’s possible, but if she was infected with what he was, well...” Da’Nel didn’t finish the thought, nor did he need to.
“We need to look for her, Kharisi. If only to give her a proper burial.”
Kharisi nodded. “We will, not to worry, but we have more pressing matters to deal with. If we don’t get back to the castle, and somehow fix this mess, then her death will have been for naught.”
“I've tried to look into his thoughts, but I can’t. Somehow our connection has been broken,” Saerus said.
Da’Nel thought this over and gave out a small grunt of surprise. “I think I can,” he said, pulling the book out from thin air. Opening to a random blank page, he made a shallow cut across the palm of his hand and let it seep into the blankness. The steady downpour of droplets splattered the page at first, neither writing anything nor creating a picture. “I know it’s you,” Da’Nel said under his breath. “I should have known from the beginning.”
A rather intricate drawing of a dragon’s head began to assemble on the page, a ruby eye appeared and began winking in his direction. As the snout developed, along with flaring nostrils, wisps of smoke drifted from them and off the page.
“I’ve not been as dormant as you wished me to be,” the dragon said. “The dark magics loosed in this castle awoke me, endangered me, required me to bring you here.”
“Couldn’t have been a bit more direct?”
The dragon chuckled, singeing the paper. “Where is the fun in that?”
Da’Nel exhaled making a dismissive sound. “Dragons and their games. Is it any wonder you’ve all but become extinct? Your overconfidence about your intelligence has been your undoing. It will always be that way.” Da’Nel set the book on the ground in front of him, with his back turned to the others. “However you are still under my control, and I want you to look into the mind of the King. We need to know what he’s thinking. What he’s doing.”
“No,” the dragon said.
Da’Nel withdrew his dagger and placed the tip under a scale by the dragon’s eye and began to wiggle it. “You will,” Da’Nel said, his voice as malevolent as anything they’d heard. The hair on the back of Kharisi’s neck stood up, while Jeremiah shook. The dragon let out a pained roar as the dagger dug deeper.
“I cannot! He is no more!”
Da’Nel pulled his dagger away, wiping the green dragon’s blood off the tip with his shirt. “Explain.”
“He is no longer human. He has changed into something I’ve not seen befor
e. Even I could not defeat him. Place your finger upon my forehead, scoundrel, and see. Dragons do many things, but we do not lie. You know that all too well”
Da’Nel did as he was told and entered the dragon’s mind. He raced through rock and dirt from the cavern where the dragon was imprisoned, hurtling into the castle, zooming through the halls so they were nothing but a blur. It only stopped when he got to the throne room, and it was so sudden, Da’Nel felt as if he were going to be sick.
And then he saw the carnage. The dead bodies, chewed off limbs, half-eaten entrails, littered the floor, so red with blood, the tiles and stone were invisible. Sitting-standing? He couldn’t be sure, was a monstrosity that for once the dragon wasn’t over-dramatizing. It was huge, its head or heads, almost touching the ceiling which was at least twenty feet. The body was pink and raw, like the skin under a scab that’s been picked. It stood not on two feet, but almost a dozen, some with the remnants of a guard’s uniform, others bare, while others had the flesh eaten away revealing bone. Still others were black with rot and made a squishing sound as they moved.
Its head was large and far from the only one adorning the collection of corpses that seemed to animate the monster. Others protruded from various areas of the body, including one that protruded from the rectum on a thin neck held together by shit and blood. It’s arms, and there were far more of them than any other appendage, were waved around with menace, Some had their hands fused together with a sword, or ax, and they were swung with all the lethal intensity of a moving abattoir. Still others were picking up pieces of dead guards and shoving them into the gelatinous carcass, only to have them appear someplace different on the body. As it continued to feed itself, it continued to grow bigger, and even more ravenous. It stopped for a moment, cocked all of its heads and looked in the direction of where Da’Nel was watching, and smiled. One arm stretched, punching a hole in the wall of the castle where it fell to the ground and began winding its way away from the castle as if it were a snake. It then snapped back, like a fishing line after a big catch had been hooked. In its hand was a baby, crying at the top of its lungs. The creature raised it to its mouth and bit the infant's head off, allowing the blood to cascade down.
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