Broken Stone 02 - Warlock's Sun Rising

by Damien Black

  ‘Yes, you’re good at carving up outlaws, that much I’ve seen,’ deadpanned Braxus with a wry smile. ‘How about The Red Faced Butcher of Brigands?’

  Aronn scowled at that. For a second Adelko thought things were going to turn ugly, but the Chequered Twins started laughing, and Aronn couldn’t help but join in.

  He felt his spirits rise. Surely this was the way it was meant to be – adventurers were supposed to share a joke or two when they weren’t trying to avoid being killed. Or that’s how it had always seemed in the lays anyway. He glanced around, hoping to get the others involved, but Horskram was consulting Kyra about the way ahead, while Vaskrian was busy cleaning utensils in the stream. Torgun sat apart, leaning against a tree and staring moodily at the flowing water as he sharpened his sword.

  Well, at least he’d got some of the company talking. It was a start.

  They pressed on deeper into the forest, their footfalls monotonously crunching through moss and sedge as they meandered steadily towards its heart. The air grew stiflingly hot and oppressive; Adelko continually shifted his habit, his pudgy frame sticky beneath the coarse brown wool.

  The ground levelled out gradually; they must be in a deep wide basin of land, covered in a thick blanket of trees. Large black spiders scuttled away as they pushed through webs that crisscrossed the oaken boles, their gossamer forms catching stray shafts of sunlight that dappled the humid earth beneath his feet. Occasionally a flash of scarlet greeted his eyes as frightened squirrels fled their coming; red robins and bluetits joined their flapping forms to the riot of colour. The Argael was intoxicating, an assault on his young senses, but at least it felt natural unlike the horrible presence of haunted Tintagael.

  As the sun set and darkness began once more to steal through the branches, Kyra and Horskram called a halt for the day.

  With a groan of gratitude Adelko sank down against the nearest tree-trunk, delicious rest seeping through his limbs.

  ‘How much farther until we reach the Girdle?’ Horskram asked Kyra as they began unpacking their things for the night.

  ‘Another day an’ we should reach it,’ she replied, pulling two strips of dried meat from her pack. ‘But ye’ll ‘ave to find another way in, unless yer prayers can turn rivers an’ tame earth.’

  Horskram eyed her sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I dunna roam idly, master monk,’ said the huntress, taking a swig of water from her skin as she chewed greedily on the meat. ‘I’ve been t’Girdle, seen it wi’ me own eyes. Woses bin tryin’ to get past it fer weeks now.’

  Horskram’s eyes narrowed. The others were all looking at her too, save for Vaskrian who was making a small fire.

  ‘Explain,’ said the adept.

  ‘Didna want to talk ‘bowt such in front o’ the others,’ began Kyra. ‘They’re scared enough as ‘tis. But there’s those of us woodfowk say we should unite ‘gainst the Woses – we’ve got a band o’ us together, try an’ pick ‘em off as best we can. Problem is they dunna seem to tek much notice o’ our arrows, ‘less ye get ‘em right int’ eye. So we’ve also been keepin’ a watch on t’Girdle, tryin’ to find some way o’ gettin’ in to talk to the Earth Witch. We’ve a mind to form an alliance wi’ her, same as you. We need her ‘elp as bad as you do.’

  The huntress paused. Vaskrian’s fire cracked and spluttered into life. Grateful as he was for added warmth and light, Adelko wondered if fires were such a good idea. Braxus had clearly thought along similar lines, ordering his squire to make it a small one.

  ‘The Woses ‘ave the Girdle surrounded,’ the woodlander went on. ‘It’s protected by a magic river, runs in a perfect circle around ‘er realm. Anyone tries to cross wi’out her say-so, river rises up an’ drags ‘em down. Some’ve said they can see figures made o’ water inside it.’

  Horskram nodded. ‘Lymphi – water spirits that she commands. Go on.’

  ‘Then there’s a ford, seems like it’s made o’ natural earth. But it’s a trap – some o’ us saw a group o’ Woses try an’ use it to cross – the ford just opened up beneath ‘em and dumped ‘em in the river.’

  ‘More Terri,’ Horskram frowned. ‘The Earth Witch is using elemental magic to protect herself from Andragorix’s servants.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ put in Braxus. ‘Weren’t we attacked by an earth spirit the other night? Who’s to say the Earth Witch wasn’t behind that one too?’

  Horskram shook his head. ‘Unlikely. She has no interest in attacking the woodlanders – ’

  ‘ – unless they come prying into her realm,’ pressed Braxus. ‘Which by the sounds of it, some of them have been.’ The Thraxian shot Kyra an accusing glance.

  ‘We’ve not ‘ad the chance to pry, not yet,’ said Kyra. ‘We searched the whole Girdle for another way in. Gettin’ past the Wadwos is difficult but not impossible – they’re camped at regular intervals and we’ve ‘ad to sneak between ‘em. But there’s no other way in, none that we’ve found anyway.’

  ‘So we’re looking at a stand-off,’ mused Horskram as the flames from the fire thickened, sending shadows skittering across the trees. ‘She can’t get out, and they can’t get in.’

  ‘There’s more, master monk,’ Kyra went on. ‘As I said, we managed to get close enough to observe, an’ the Woses ‘ave built these catapults, see. They’re not so big, but they fill ‘em up with bales o’ burning pitch – then they throw ‘em into the Girdle. We saw ‘em do it one night, an’ fire spirits jumped out, like fires o’ Gehenna – started burning trees on t’other side o’ river…’

  ‘What about the water spirits in the river?’ asked Braxus, his green eyes keen in the firelight. The other knights and Vaskrian were just staring, looking utterly bewildered. Adelko began to perceive Horskram’s wisdom in bringing the Thraxian along – he certainly seemed more at ease dealing with supernatural foes than the Northlending knights.

  ‘Aye, I were comin’ to that,’ rejoined Kyra. ‘They rises up out o’ the river right enough, an’ soaks the catapults, then they flows back across it to fight the fire spirits int’ Girdle. That’s when the Woses try an’ cross the river – they’ve not succeeded yet but we’ve watched ‘em do it a few times. Every time, they get a bit closer t’other side.’

  ‘Andragorix is clever – and powerful,’ said Horskram, frowning. ‘He is slowly wearing her down, counting on his elan being stronger than hers. He knows it is only a matter of time before he breaks past her defences.’

  Adelko felt it was his turn to speak up. ‘Why does he need the Wadwos and their catapults?’ he asked. ‘He sent Saraphi to attack us directly, why not do the same with the Earth Witch?’

  ‘Her defences are long established, and probably powerful enough to stop Andragorix manifesting Saraphi directly on her territory,’ explained Horskram. ‘Either that or she is counter-scrying – using her arts to block his efforts to detect her exact location.’

  Adelko nodded, recalling the fiend sent by Andragorix to pursue them across the wildernesses of Northalde and how uncertain a discipline demonology had been. That lack of perfect control had probably saved their lives – but only just. The thought of what the warlock could do with the Headstone of Ma’amun reunited sent a shiver down his spine.

  ‘So how are we going to get to her?’ asked Braxus. ‘Even if she does need our help, she won’t let us in without knowing who we are.’

  ‘We must hope her Scrying tells her enough to work out that we are here to help.’ Horskram’s face looked grim in the firelight. Adelko didn’t need his sixth sense to tell him his mentor was far from happy with that plan.

  ‘Kyra, are there Wadwos camped near the bridge?’ asked Braxus.

  The huntress nodded. ‘Aye, out o’ renge o’ the water spirits, but not far off.’

  ‘Well you say arrows don’t bother them over much – I suggest we find out how they take to swords of cold steel,’ said the Thraxian. ‘We ambush a Wadwo camp, kill them all and take a bag of beastmen heads as a peace offering to the f
ord. She should let us in then.’

  Sir Torgun and the other ravens nodded their approval. Here at last was something they could understand.

  ‘They’re abowt twenty strong,’ warned Kyra. ‘Ye’ll ‘ave yer work cut owt for ye.’

  ‘What about this woodlander rebellion you’re part of?’ asked Braxus. ‘Can we get them to help?’

  Kyra bit her lip. ‘Difficult to say… Madogan, he’s our leader, says he dunna want t’engage hand to hand ‘till there’s more o’ us. He’s no coward, but he’s a cautious man… says we can’t risk losing all on a straight fight. Reckon he’s right too, beggin’ yer pardons – us woodfolk aren’t used to fightin’ like that. To be o’ any use we’d need to outnumber ‘em at least three to one.’

  Sir Torgun slammed a huge fist into his palm. ‘I’ll not wait on common folk, however hardy and brave!’ he cried. Adelko started. The tall knight was rarely this animated, even in battle. ‘This is a job for true knights, and our duty is clear,’ he declaimed, standing and gazing around him. ‘We must engage these creatures, even if the odds be against us! I have slain one before, they are not invincible.’

  ‘One aye, but twenty…’ mused Aronn. ‘I quail before no man, but those are long odds.’

  ‘Then we shall have to shorten them with our strong right arms,’ replied Torgun stubbornly. Adelko exchanged glances with Horskram. Clearly Northalde’s greatest knight was feeling the pressures of adventuring – the novice could feel the yearning for action pouring from him.

  ‘For once I agree with Sir Torgun,’ said Braxus. ‘What choice do we really have? We knew this quest wouldn’t be easy.’

  ‘Quest?’ snorted Aronn. ‘Sounds more like a suicide mission to me – but I’m with you. If there’s fighting to be done I’ll not shy away from it!’

  The Chequered Twins merely nodded in agreement.

  ‘There’s one thing I’ve left to tell ye,’ said Kyra, her voice dropping slightly. ‘One other trick the Earth Witch has up ‘er sleeve, it may ‘elp us or it may not.’

  All eyes turned to the huntress again.

  ‘Some o’ our lot ‘ave reported sightings… o’ somethin’ else.’ Her dark eyes looked fearful in the uneven light cast by the crepitant flames. ‘Group o’ the lads were trackin’ a small band o’ Woses, abowt a tenday ago. They were planning on ambushing ‘em towards break o’ day, Wadwos preferrin’ to fight at night. Anyway, they followed ‘em to a clearin’. Beastmen were settin’ up camp when something came at ‘em from the darkness. Lads said it were huge, twice the size o’ a Wadwo, an’ they’re big enough! Smashed three o’ ‘em to pieces before a Wose gets out a drum, starts bangin’ it…’

  She paused again, reflecting. ‘It were right strenge, cos we’ve been ‘earin’ that a lot recently,’ she went on. ‘Woses dunna normally go in fer marchin’ but then they’ve never been organised before, so we’d just assumed it were part o’ that. Anyway, lads said the thing ‘eard the sound and gave an ‘orrible scream, started runnin’ – came straight towards them, an’ they panicked an’ fled.’

  ‘What happened to the rest of the Woses?’ asked Horskram.

  ‘They must’ve pressed on instead o’ campin’ int’ clearing. By the time the lads regrouped they were long gone. Tracked ‘em till early morning, but by the time they caught up wi’ ‘em they’d rejoined one o’ the camps abowt the Girdle. That made too many o’ ‘em fer a small band o’ woodfowk to take. Still at least this thing, whatever it was, did some damage for us.’

  Horskram rubbed his beard. He looked genuinely puzzled. ‘How did the woodfolk describe this apparition?’

  ‘It were dark, an’ everythin’ ‘appened so quickly,’ answered Kyra. ‘Said it were almost part o’ th’earth, shaped like a man, but definitely no mortal.’

  ‘Another Terrus?’ suggested Braxus. ‘She is called the Earth Witch after all…’

  Horskram shook his head. ‘Nay, a Terrus possesses the earth and manipulates it, a blasphemous entity that spurns the natural laws set down by the Almighty. But I’ve never heard of elementi using the earth to take humanoid form. By Reus, what deviltry is this?’

  ‘Well, whatever it is, seems it might be on our side,’ suggested Kyra, though she plainly looked unsettled.

  ‘Or it might be on nobody’s side but the Earth Witch’s,’ said Horskram, giving voice to Adelko’s thoughts.

  Silence followed. An owl hooted, giving them all a start. The faces of the company looked tired and fretful, shadows streaking lines across their faces as flames danced across firewood.

  ‘Everyone eat and get some sleep,’ said Horskram. ‘Sir Torgun, I’ll leave you to organise the night’s watch. And put that blasted fire out!’

  Shrugging, Vaskrian rose to obey after getting a nod of assent from Braxus. Adelko rolled out his pallet before fishing around in his pack for food and water.

  Lying down after a snatched supper he was soon asleep. But as was so often the case, it didn’t last. More strange dreams came to trouble him, of white-faced ogres wreathed in hot fires devouring men and women clad in green. Above them loomed a vast shadowy figure, its tenebrous form quenching the fires one by one. Its shadow grew as it did, devouring all in its path. The last fire winked out…

  Adelko woke with a start. He strained his ears above the snoring of his comrades, fancying he could hear the distant beating of a great drum. But there was nothing, save for the occasional hooting of the lone owl.

  Turning over on his pallet, he prayed to Morphonus for dreamless sleep, and drifted off again.

  CHAPTER X

  Devils With White Faces

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir knight, but I’ve not had anyone of that description stayin’ here in the past few days. We’ve had the odd freesword passing through, but no high-born women.’

  The innkeeper looked apologetic enough, and didn’t seem to be holding anything back.

  Balthor frowned. He might have known. The heiress was far too sly to leave such an obvious trail. Reus damn the cunning of women! Heaving an impatient sigh, he ordered food and rooms for the night. They had ridden hard to reach Bergen before the Wytching Hour; it was late, and he was tired.

  ‘We’ll be needing fresh horses too,’ he declared. ‘I claim them as the Eorl’s agent, according to the laws of the land. Their owners shall be duly compensated.’

  The innkeeper nodded, his floppy hat bobbing ridiculously. At least the man was obedient; he would brook no more arguments today, especially not from a commoner.

  The four knights sat down at a table in a corner to eat. The taproom was virtually empty. Far fewer folk were travelling than was normal at this time of the year: rumours had been filtering out of the Argael in the past few weeks, of woods witches and Woses and frightened woodfolk.

  Well the rumours didn’t scare him, Balthor thought defiantly as he took a spoonful of gristly stew. No, it was the absence of good food and the other comforts of Graukolos that troubled him. Perhaps he was getting too old for errantry. He’d have to see about things when he got back, try to dislodge that cur Urist from his job as marshal perhaps. Just as he’d dislodged him from the saddle.

  He was busy enjoying that thought when a shadow fell on him. Gazing up coldly he saw a woodland trader standing before him, dressed in the green apparel of the forest folk.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked curtly, taking a swig of ale.

  ‘Reckon I can at that, sir knight,’ said the blond-haired man, an ugly grin creasing his leathery skin.

  ‘Well then, state your business and be quick about it,’ said Balthor, wondering what the churl could possibly say that might interest him.

  ‘I saw two wummen an’ a freesword leavin’ ‘ere two nights ago,’ said the woodsman.

  Balthor put his mug down and exchanged glances with Sir Wilhelm next to him.

  ‘You’re quite sure?’ asked Balthor. ‘Describe them to me.’

  The woodsman did so. It sounded like the Eorl’s daughter and her lady-in-waiting, tho
ugh of course he had no idea what their mysterious new bodyguard looked like.

  ‘Well that settles it,’ said Balthor, pushing away his wooden bowl and starting to rise. ‘We’ll take the new horses now and ride through the night.’

  He reached into his money pouch for a coin. ‘Here, for your trouble, churl,’ he said, proffering the silver mark.

  The woodsman took it but did not leave.

  ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, sir knight, but I reckon I can be o’ more ‘elp than that.’ The grin had not left his face.

  Another opportunist. Balthor was about to push him aside to go and talk to the innkeeper when Sir Wilhelm said: ‘Explain yourself.’

  Balthor rolled his eyes, seething inwardly, but listened as the woodsman spoke. ‘The Argael’s not what it used to be – ye may’ve ‘eard o’ the Woses and the Earth Witch – ’

  ‘We have, villein, and such things hold no terrors for true knights of Dulsinor,’ snapped Balthor. ‘Now, if you’ll – ’

  ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, sir knight,’ the woodlander held up greasy hands apologetically, ‘but whoever them wummen are, they’re not likely t’get far along the road – these are bad times fer the woodfolk, an’ we’ve grown right wary o’ foreigners. Soon as they stop for food an’ rest, they’ll be apprehended most like. Merchants and such we let pass, once we’re sure o’ their business. But anyone lookin’ suspicious gets taken in fer questioning.’

  The woodsman paused, looking from Balthor to Wilhelm, then added: ‘And, beggin’ yer pardon, but two high-born ladies an’ a foreign freesword travellin’ together sounds pretty suspicious t’me.’

  The woodsman paused again. ‘Go on,’ said Balthor. ‘Get to your point, churl.’

  ‘Well, sirrah, me point is, if they gets taken in they wulna be easily tracked by them as dunna ken the forest – an’ I ken it right well, ye take my meanin’… I can track anyone, an’ I ken all the settlements in the south side o’ the Argael. An’ I can speak the language.’