Shadows

by Michael Duncan

  Morryn felt a strong compulsion to hand over the tome. “I have it here,” he said as he reached into the folds of his cloak. He pulled out the book and held it in view of the two men. Morryn looked at the small box, eager to gain its hidden power.

  Morryn clutched the Book of Aleth, and the power of the wizard’s voice vanished. A moment of clarity rushed through his mind as he stared through narrowed eyes at the wizards. His heart raced, and he knew the two men were about to betray him. “Leave the box on the ground, and I will leave the book. We’ll trade places and have what we’ve come for.” Morryn, with his eyes fixed upon the wizards, placed the book on the floor at his feet. The two hooded figures did the same with the box, and the three men began to move toward each other and their desired artifacts.

  Hidden by his cloak, his hand gripped cold steel. As Morryn walked past the wizards, he drew his sword and struck. In fluid motion, he decapitated the first man, pivoted, and ran the second man through the heart. The wizard looked down, eyes wide with horror at the sword that protruded from his chest. He clutched at the weapon and then collapsed to the ground, dead.

  Morryn chuckled and retrieved the book from the floor then gathered the small box. “Betray me, will you?” Morryn shouted to the two men. He had heard of the power of wizards to control the minds of men, and Morryn didn’t understand how their spell was broken. Now all he wanted to do was leave the underground chamber.

  He started back toward the staircase. Again, the sense of watchful eyes penetrated his perception and made his flesh crawl. He looked around with the skill of an experienced hunter, but all he saw was thick darkness beyond his pale light. Careful to avoid the fallen debris, Morryn stepped over various broken objects and drew closer to the stairs. The cold air of the cavern hung heavy with moisture, musty and stale. He found the wall and navigated the circumference of the room until he arrived at the open hole of the stone stairway.

  The passage was steep, and he climbed with deliberate steps. But the fearful sense of some unseen menace lurking in the shadows behind him forced him to climb faster. Morryn wished he could run, but the precarious nature of the stairs prevented any rapid ascent. His panic continued to grow to the point that it overwhelmed his thoughts. He considered a sprint to the exit.

  A breath of wind began to blow from the deep, and it carried what he thought was a low groan. Morryn trembled with panic, unable to outrace the fear that chased him up the stairwell. Ahead in the distance, a ruddy light outlined the exit. The campfire! Yet fear gained on him, no matter how fast he attempted to outrun it to the cavern’s entrance.

  Morryn panicked as the dread of some unseen adversary overwhelmed his senses. He stumbled and tripped along the stairs. Terror propelled him until the entrance was in full view. In a desperate attempt to outrun the fear, Morryn fell through the mouth of the cave and tumbled onto the ground.

  The soldiers at the encampment jumped back in surprise. Morryn stood and panted with exhaustion as he moved toward the fire. He searched through the small band of soldiers until he spotted Lorik talking with three others. “Sergeant!” Morryn shouted. His voice trembled in unrestrained panic. “We must leave now!” he ordered. “Everyone mount up. Leave the gear. Leave the fire. We must get out of here now!” He ran to his horse, ignoring the questions and the bewildered looks that followed him. Morryn tightened the straps on his mount and rode off as a great shriek sounded all around them.

  In a sudden rush of movement, a horde of massive creatures cascaded over the surrounding cliffs. Trolls! Large, dark beasts with knobby clubs in their huge fists fell upon the unwary soldiers. The men were surrounded on every side. Panic filled the eyes of each remaining soldier. With dust still rising from Morryn’s unexpected and hasty departure, Lorik knew he’d have to rally the men. There was no time for retreat.

  A veteran of many battles, he commanded the men to form a line of defense. “Stand strong!” he called. “We stand together, no one fears, no one flees!” He stood at the head of the unit, sword drawn; his heart pounded like a hammer in his chest. The men marshaled to his courage and followed his lead to hold their ground.

  The creatures were on them. Huge monsters, nine feet tall, with grey, leathery skin and faces a hideous mix of human and animal, came at the unit with the ferocity of wild beasts. They hit the line of men, swords against clubs, and for a moment the soldiers threw them back. Steel swords flashed in the firelight and reflected upon the rocks while the shouts of battle reverberated in the small hollow. Monsters growled and roared in agony as many fell, sliced and pierced by the skill of the soldiers. Yet many more of the massive beasts poured over the walls of stone, violent, unrestrained, like a flood over the Shattered Hills that broke upon the soldiers, wave after wave.

  In the darkness the men had no idea the number of their adversaries. To Lorik, it seemed endless. One beast after another rampaged over the hills to attack the small band. Swords deflected clubs, skill fought strength, but the small cluster of men began to waiver. Then a troll landed a blow to the head of one young soldier who fell in a heap. The sergeant knew the men’s strength began to dim, and their line soon must fail. They had to retreat. “Into the cave!” he shouted, “into the cave!” Those closest to the cave began to shift toward the entrance, but found no quarter given from the hoard against them. Before they could enter, two more soldiers were gone.

  Only three soldiers remained with Lorik. The horses were scattered, and he assumed they fled in terror down the path. One large troll rose up before him, and Lorik spun then thrust his sword deep into the heart of the creature. Two more came up behind the first and lunged at Lorik. He ducked the swing of the first, slashed at the second, and realized he was behind the line of creatures. Lorik attacked and dropped both trolls in their tracks. He gasped for air, exhausted. Silence filled the hollow. No more enemies approached. The small cul-de-sac was deathly quiet.

  Bodies lay scattered around, soldiers as well as beasts, their red blood mingled on the rock floor of the campsite. Dozens had fallen by the sword. He gazed over the piled carcasses. He was the lone survivor. Every soldier lay dead, crushed under the weight of the attack. Lorik knew to remain was certain death, so he gathered up what food he found, wrapped an extra cloak around his shoulders, and took to the path that led out of the Shattered Hills. Darkness had settled in. The cold winter air tried to rob him of his strength, but he knew he must keep going, keep moving, and keep warm.

  He hurried past the location of the guard post and saw two more dead soldiers, ambushed by the beasts. To his fortune, a lone horse remained just a few yards down the trail. It shivered as Lorik rubbed its neck. The mount seemed glad to have found a survivor. It nuzzled up against his shoulder. Lorik grabbed the reigns and threw himself into the saddle. Alone, it didn’t take long to navigate the path back the way they came and his mount seemed just as eager to leave. Behind him, the howls of the creatures echoed through the hills. He tried not to imagine what the beasts did to the bodies of the men who had fallen. Grief stricken, Lorik had no time and little strength. So, he pressed his mount through the night.

  “What happened?” he asked himself. “And where is the lieutenant?” He had never seen a man in such terror, and had never seen a soldier of Morryn’s skill flee the scene of a battle. He had no answers and too many questions. He needed to get away, find the lieutenant, and get some answers.

  Shadows: Book of Aleth Part One

  5

  Madness and Mysteries

  Morryn spurred his horse back down the dark, cold crevice and took no thought for danger. Behind him, the noise of battle echoed through the pass. The cries and screams of his soldiers mingled with the howls of the ferocious beasts and shattered the stillness of the night. He knew the beasts; trolls were fierce, brute animals. He continued through the ravine and ignored the desperate plight of his men. He rushed past the place where the two guards had been posted. In the dim moonlight, Morryn spied two massive trolls as they dragged the limp, fallen bodies of the
soldiers. With sword drawn, he spurred his horse into a run. Man and beast, with breath like smoke from a dragon’s mouth, rushed toward the two trolls with reckless ferocity. He passed between them and struck the nearest troll. The monster howled in pain—a sound that seemed to shatter the night. The trolls made no effort to give chase, and Morryn disappeared around a corner and vanished into the night.

  Several miles of rough, cold stone passed beneath him, and his mount began to show signs of fatigue. He slowed the steed to a walk as the cold air took its toll. Morryn ached in every joint and shivered with uncontrollable spasms. The snow on the ground, stirred by a frigid breeze, blew against him like frozen needles. Several drifts had accumulated along the path like white barricades and made his journey out of the Shattered Hills even more difficult. Yet Morryn warmed himself with the knowledge that he had outwitted the two wizards in the catacombs and now possessed both artifacts.

  His men were doomed, but he’d never wanted them to come in the first place. Aaron had caused the slaughter. Morryn pressed on through the night and kept to the path that brought him into the hills. The pale moon continued its slow passage through the sky; its ghostly light shone upon the narrow path that meandered through the barren rock, back to the encampment. A sense of relief washed over his thoughts as he began to understand that no one else knew of his purpose in the hills. Morryn intended to keep it that way. He smiled, self-satisfied, as he rode through the cold, bitter night.

  The moon disappeared behind a casual cloud that drifted in slow motion across the velvet night sky and cast the world in darkness. Miles passed beneath him as his horse plodded along the trail. As the breeze continued to blow, Morryn wrapped his cloak tighter around him and pulled his hood lower to cover his face and ward off the effects of the winter night. Without the light of the moon, the impenetrable shadow of darkness prevented him from seeing the path. He had to trust the horse and his instincts to find his way.

  Underneath him, the stallion shivered, the penetrating cold biting both horse and rider to the core. Time seemed irrelevant in the frigid air, and Morryn had no idea how far he had traveled. But knew he must keep moving just to keep warm and alive.

  He climbed a small elevation and peered into the valley beneath him. In the distance, an orange glow stood out like a beacon against the deep darkness. It was the encampment. Though distant, he rejoiced to see the flicker of the campfire as it blazed like a warm invitation. Even from a distance, through the crisp, chill air, Morryn heard the muffled voices of soldiers. He hurried his poor, cold mount, and found even his horse seemed eager to arrive at the warmth of the fire.

  “A rider!” one of the guards shouted. “A rider approaches!” All those around the fire came at once as the two guards drew their swords. Morryn slumped over in his saddle, his cloak and gear covered in frost. They hurried to his side, gathered him off his mount and rushed to the campfire. Several others collected more wood. Embers exploded into the night as they threw the extra fuel onto the fire.

  Another young soldier brought the lieutenant a warm cup of broth along with the remnants of supper. Morryn shivered, and he sat near the blaze to draw every ounce of warmth from it. The young guard removed Morryn’s frozen cloak and draped a heavy wool blanket around the lieutenant’s shoulders.

  A tall, thin soldier sat next to Morryn. His eyes reflected the flicker of the firelight and revealed a genuine anxiety. “Sir,” the young man asked, “what happened out there? We didn’t expect anyone back before tomorrow and now you’ve returned alone?”

  Morryn’s teeth chattered as he responded. “Y-y-yes, I-I know.” Morryn tried to gather himself, to speak with clarity. “No… one… else survived. We were attacked. Trolls ambushed us… another creature…unseen.” Morryn shook with uncontrollable spasms as the effects of exhaustion set in.

  Thankfully, the young soldier in charge held off any more questions and ordered another blanket and more hot broth prepared, for which Morryn was grateful. He also ordered a doubling of the guard, saying the sound of trolls on the prowl did not set well in his thoughts.

  A palpable tension filled the camp. Conversations filled the air of an imminent attack from beasts out of the Shattered Hills. Swords were drawn in anticipation of the potential threat.

  Morryn was escorted to his tent as clouds drifted across the luminescent moon. Bathed in pale moonlight, the peaks of the hills shimmered in the incandescent glow, filled with an impenetrable darkness. Even the continual campfire brought no comfort as the men awaited dawn.

  ****

  Morryn roused from his sleep. Covered in heavy wool blankets, he finally felt warm. He listened to the voices of the men outside his tent.

  “Half the men are dead in those accursed hills!” A soldier hissed. “Do we just sit here and wait for our own death?”

  “No,” said the one who had taken charge, “we don’t. But we can’t leave yet, not with the lieutenant in his condition. I fear this trip to the Shattered Hills was a fool’s errand.”

  Morryn moved to the tent flap and peeked out to see the man who had taken charge.

  The young soldier reached his hands out to warm them with the fire. “We’ll wait till morning and then we head south. Lieutenant Morryn, I’m sure, will agree to that.” The soldier looked up and signaled to three others, posting them at the corners of their camp. “You will each take watch and cry out if you see anything coming. Your relief will come in three hours. Don’t hesitate to sound the alarm if you suspect trouble!” The three guardsmen, not much younger than the first, slowly walked toward their posts.

  Morryn wanted to make a hasty departure and checked his gear to ensure his treasures remained hidden and secure. Then he left his tent to sit beside the fire.

  The young soldier still sat by the fire, head in his hands. Morryn stood behind the thoughtful soldier, looming over the unaware young man. “Soldier,” Morryn said.

  Startled by Morryn’s appearance, the young man stood and saluted his commander. “My apologies sir!” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “At ease Bran… Brin…” Morryn started.

  “Brendal, sir!” the young guard replied.

  “Well, Brendal,” Morryn continued, “you’ve done well to keep the men in line and post guards around the camp. You are to be commended.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Brendal said and took his seat again next to the fire. “Lieutenant,” he asked, “what happened out there?”

  Morryn sat down and reached his hands toward the flames. “We were ambushed, set upon by a horde of trolls that took us by surprise.” Morryn gave careful thought to his words. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicion.

  “Sir,” Brendal said, “trolls aren’t known to band together. They normally attack alone, and rarely against armed men.”

  “You seem to have some knowledge of this. How do you know so much about trolls?” The lieutenant tried to cover his apprehension.

  “Well, sir,” Brendal replied, “I grew up on a farm near North Village, and my father had his share of encounters with a marauding troll. You get to know them after a time.”

  “These trolls seem well organized,” Morryn continued. “I think they had a leader over them. There was an unseen assailant which let out such a cry that froze the marrow in my bones.” Morryn shuddered as he remembered the horrific sound. “Trolls seemed to come from everywhere, and when it was over, I alone survived.”

  “You’re fortunate to be alive.” Brendal’s voice quivered. “I just wish the others were as fortunate as you.”

  “Buck up, soldier,” Morryn attempted to sound hopeful. “They didn’t give up, and the mission was accomplished. You can be proud to have served with them.”

  “But, sir…what mission was so important that it was worth the sacrifice of nine men?” Brendal’s trembling voice echoed his troubled thoughts.

  “That, soldier, is a question that must be left unanswered. It concerns the emperor, and only the emperor. Just know that your fellow guardsmen died
for a greater good, for the good of the empire.” He hoped to dissuade Brendal from any more conversation. “Now,” Morryn continued, “I need to rest some more.” He stood to stretch his tight, cold muscles. “Just one more thing… where’s my horse?”

  “Oh, yes,” Brendal replied, “we’ve taken him and secured him with the others. He’s been rubbed down and given warm water as well as an ample supply of food. He’ll be just fine, sir… just a bit chilled and very tired. I suspect that in a couple of days your horse will be fit to travel again.”

  “Very well,” Morryn said. “Keep the perimeter secure and watch out for any movement coming from the hills. If you sight anything, and I mean anything alert me at once and be ready for it—it will be trolls.” Morryn turned toward his tent, his gate stiff and body sore. He was tired, every muscle ached and his head pounded. High above, a dark shadow passed in front of the moon. Tensing, he remembered the creature at North Village and looked up, but all he saw was a lazy cloud caressed by the moonlight.

  Once back in his tent he wished to collapse upon his mat, but Morryn knew he needed to leave the encampment before dawn. As the night deepened into rich darkness, the moon fell below the horizon, and he slipped from his tent with a satchel slung over his shoulder. He moved with stealth to the horses and nestled alongside the stallion. Morryn secured his pack to the saddle and mounted the steed. He departed without a sound and carefully avoided the men put on the watch. The three guards on duty were on the other side of the compound and gave little attention to any movement in his location.