The Lich glowed brighter, and its voice became more sinister, if that were even possible. “She is a Moross, and only she can free the guardian, kill the queen, and return what rightfully belongs to me.”
Bran marched through the swamp, following the faint trail that Malik had blazed for them on several previous journeys to the ancient ruined tower. It felt good to put some distance between the Lich and themselves, and Bran pondered at the last ritual and its meaning before they left.
“What are you thinking about?” Malik asked from in front as they walked at a good pace despite the treacherous terrain.
Bran took a long moment to reply. “Why was it necessary to draw blood?”
“You mean the blood oath that Azor made you take?” Bran asked, not bothering to turn around as was their custom when traveling single file.
“Why do you insist on naming that creature?” Bran complained, sloshing through the swamp and wondering if they had lost the trail.
“I’ve had a few more dealings with it than you have, so I guess I’m just accustomed to calling it by its proper name.”
“Who said anything about that name being proper?”
“All things have names. It may very well be a dead necromancer, but it once lived and it had a name. It certainly has memories and it can think, for better or for worse.” Malik motioned toward what appeared to be higher ground.
The sloshing became less evident as they found a barely perceptible ridge to walk along and at least keep their feet dry. “Well,” Bran started, “I’d feel better if you didn’t refer to it by name. So why did you have to draw blood from my hand?”
“The Lich demanded it,” Malik said simply.
Bran thought about the fact that he had to swear an oath with blood from his hand on the orb that the Lich used. The Lich had no blood to use, so it swore its own oath using its skeletal hand placed on the crystal ball. Its oath was to lead Bran to his wife and help him save her from the fate that was witnessed.
“Fine, so we return to Korwell and find a wizard and take his staff. That doesn’t sound too difficult.” Bran’s words dripped with sarcasm, and he was soon becoming as talented as Malik in that department.
The young scout seemed to understand and chuckled slightly. “Everything seems difficult at first, but you’ll become accustomed to it soon enough.”
“I’ll never get used to seeing that creature,” Bran said, referring to the Lich. “It gave me the creeps, though I can’t imagine how it could summon a vision of my wife in battle.”
“So you see what I mean about my earlier remark and it being a former Kesh wizard?”
“Perhaps.” Bran stomped twice before resuming to get the swamp leeches off his boots. “I didn’t understand half of what it said, especially about Father Death and his imminent arrival.”
“The only thing we need to understand for sure is that our first task involves obtaining a wizard’s staff. Let’s focus on that before we work on trying to figure out its game of riddles.” Malik mimicked Bran, stomping and moving off again after giving the horizon a good look around.
“You seemed pretty intent on starting a war with the Kesh and your soon-to-be army,” Bran said.
“Our army, and I have my own reasons,” Malik said, resuming a good pace while they had halfway decent terrain to work with.
Bran picked up his pace to keep up with the long strides of the Ulathan scout. “So you let the genie out of the bottle and now you can’t get it to return, eh?”
Malik stopped for a moment to let Bran catch up, and gave him a stern look. “Those double-crossing thieves will pay for what they did.”
“You think you can save your family?” Bran asked.
“My family is most likely dead,” Malik said, continuing their march northeast away from the heart of the swamp.
“How do you know?” Bran asked, a small feeling of pity rising within him.
Bran never looked back. “The Lich showed me my brother as he was stabbed with a knife and fell bloody while my mother was dragged from a slave wagon and beaten to death. Only my little sister’s fate is unknown to me at this time.”
“So you intend to take revenge on the Kesh for what they did to your family, even after you started this entire war?”
Malik stopped and turned to face Bran, who almost ran into him before pulling up short. “Let’s get this straight for the last time. Those murderers were already planning their attack on Ulatha. I simply wanted to see a regime change and didn’t know that they would invade the entire region.”
“Fair enough,” Bran said, taking a step back and looking at the pain and anger in the other man’s eyes. “I guess I need someone to blame for the fact that my wife and sons are missing and perhaps dead as well.”
“Well, at least that’s the most honest thing you’ve said since we’ve met.” Malik turned and started to march away.
“I’ve been completely honest with you since day one.” Bran hustled to keep up, defending his honor and honesty.
Malik pulled up short again, and Bran thought that he was going to turn and argue with him more, but instead he crouched suddenly and motioned with an arm for Bran to do the same thing. “Quiet,” he said.
“What is it?” Bran asked, crouching next to Malik.
Malik motioned out in front where a sickly fog was rising and the sky was more overcast than normal. “Out there, something is approaching.”
Bran struggled to hear anything and instead noticed that there was no noise at all. No birds, no insects rubbing their wings together or buzzing them through the air. No, it was eerily silent, as if death had come to the swamp. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Shhh,” Malik hushed him. Silently the two men crouched low on the side of the small ridge, peering into the swamp ahead of them and slightly to the right. Faintly a sound of water being disturbed became barely audible in the distance.
“I hear something,” Bran said, gazing into the gloom, willing for it to part so he could see better.
“It’s just as I feared,” Malik said, turning to face Bran.
“What?” Bran asked.
“Get ready to draw your blade and fight,” Malik said, reaching behind his back and pulling his bow off of it, and then grabbing an arrow, he nocked it and aimed to their front along the faint trail with swamp water on either side that appeared to ripple slightly.
Bran reached down, struggling for a second to pull his sword from a crouched position. “What are we going to fight?”
Malik nodded in front. “It appears the queen’s army is active sooner than the Lich and I thought.”
“Army?” Bran looked forward, not seeing signs of any troops . . . yet.
“Well, an outlying scouting party. I thought I heard them when we came in, but we lost them back at the tower. I was hoping they would have moved on by now, but it appears they caught our scent and tracked us into the swamp.”
“I’m surprised they could catch any scent in this godforsaken land.”
“Me too, but I think they are magically guided as well. Here they come. Get ready,” Malik said, moving toward a small bush that gave a modicum of cover and pulling back on his bow.
Slowly at first and then relentlessly, the mist around the swamp parted and a group of undead skeletons appeared from the marshy land in front of them. They carried weapons, swords, maces, axes, and spears, and they all had a very faint glow about them as they moved forward, disturbing the water. There appeared to be a dozen of them at least.
“I don’t think your bow will do much good on them,” Bran said, feeling his mouth go dry as he leveled his sword in front of him and prepared for battle.
Malik nodded. “Not if I miss their skulls. There is one good thing, however, to come from all of this.”
Bran was at a loss to think of anything that could be positive as he watched the undead patrol approaching them with the lead members swaying back and forth, their heads down as if following or tracking something. “What in Agon could t
hat be?”
Malik stood quickly and loosed an arrow that flew faster than Bran’s eye could follow, embedding itself into the skull of the first skeleton, and the creature’s head was flung back as it fell, splashing into the dark, muddy waters. Malik turned to look at Bran for a quick second and smiled, giving Bran the creeps for the third time that day. “We probably won’t need to worry about the wizard’s staff if we’re dead.”
The undead creatures didn’t need any further guidance and rushed as a group toward the pair of Ulathans. Bran felt as if the day would never end.
Chapter 18
Decisions
The wind died down, and Khan held up his staff in front of him, taking several steps back and preparing to fight the crazed druid. Dorsun had grabbed a rock, his rapier having been packed across his pack and not prepared ahead of time. He would not make that mistake again. Targon stood, and Salina backpedaled as Elister shook his head and then looked around, lowering his own staff.
“Elister?” Targon asked. His words were tentative, and he was prepared to grab the dead druid’s staff.
Elister looked to Targon and smiled and then back to Khan before speaking. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you so, but your charm appears to have worked.”
“How so?” Khan asked, keeping his staff in front of him and murmuring words under his breath.
“It’s your charm. Don’t you know what you did?” Elister countered.
“Yes,” Khan answered. “I know exactly what I did, and I was not expecting you to attack me.”
“I did no such thing.” Elister sounded defensive.
“Well, you were preparing to attack.” Khan bobbed his staff up and down and then brought it to his face and peered through the gemstone at Elister.
“Nonsense,” Elister said, “though I must admit the expression on your face was priceless.”
“Not funny, druid,” Dorsun said, moving slowly toward his pack and unbuckling it while never removing an eye from the stone man. He struggled to unlatch it while keeping a grip on his rock. The rapier was laid across the top, stuck in the buckling so it wouldn’t fall, and now it was becoming a liability to pull out for the Kesh chieftain.
“Let me help you with that,” Salina said, moving around the fire and helping unlatch the pack and free the Kesh’s slender blade.
“It looked like you were going to attack,” Targon said, supporting Khan and drawing Elister’s attention.
The dead druid looked at the pair for a moment and then sat back down and motioned for the others to do the same. “We have little time and much to do. We must leave here at dawn.”
The others reluctantly sat back down, keeping a wary eye on the stone man. Targon reached for Elister’s staff, and the druid pulled it away, smiling.
“All right, enough games, Arnen. What is this all about?” Khan sounded impatient.
Elister didn’t hesitate. “I’ve been brought back by a great evil. The call was hard to resist, and only my status with the mother prevented me from becoming an agent of the dark. That, however, is not important right now. What is important is that my days are finally numbered, and I now know that soon I will return to Agon and rest the eternal sleep of my kind. Before then, we have much to do, or else watch all perish and be lost forever.”
“You aren’t making much sense,” Targon said, sounding confused and rebuked slightly.
“I don’t need to right now,” Elister continued. “Things have been set in motion that can’t be undone. Father Death approaches, and this time, the transit will be the Pentium Passing of Ancient Lore and the deeds from the last transit will resume their full effect.”
“You refer to the passing of Dor Akun?” Khan said, seeming to follow the dead druid’s words the best.
“Yes,” Elister said, smiling that unnerving grin that made everyone feel discombobulated when looking at it. “You are Kesh; you understand the motions of the gods.”
Dorsun, Salina, and Targon looked at Khan intently. “By gods, if you mean the planets of our system, then yes, I understand them.”
“You do, but you do not fully comprehend them. You only think you do,” Elister said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Salina asked, curious as to why the Kesh and druid seemed to know so much and they didn’t.
Khan would not be scolded so easily and wrapped his contentment of knowledge around himself like a warm cloak. “Perhaps it is you who thinks he knows more than is possible?”
Elister laughed, though no vocal chords were involved, and his Adam’s apple couldn’t move. “You are Kesh, and that explains everything.”
“I don’t think we’re making progress here,” Salina chimed in, trying to restore some order before the two men became overly involved in their intellectual match with one another. “Can you speak simply for us, Elister? What do you mean?”
“Ask him.” Elister nodded toward Khan with his staff. “He knows everything.”
“Not everything,” Khan said, showing the first sign of deference to the Arnen. “Why do you not explain the passing so the others will understand?”
“Very well,” Elister said, making the effort to clear his throat that did not need clearing. “The planet . . . approaches every two hundred years or so. It brings death and destruction to those who are not prepared. Millennia ago, the ancients ensured our survival every two centuries. Are you still with me?”
“Yes, I’m understanding that this planet thing is actually Father Death,” Salina said, nodding her head.
“Dor Akun,” Khan said, stating the planet’s formal name.
“Yes,” Elister said, looking from Salina to Khan. “The Kesh knows the father’s name. Very good, wizard. Now, where were we?”
“Death every two centuries,” Targon said softly.
“Right.” Elister tried to snap his fingers for emphasis but only managed to send a micro rock chip flying through the air. “Oh, yes, sorry . . . well, to resume my explanation, the ancients ensured that we survived every two centuries, but . . . every five transits, the gatekeepers are able to open the portal between the mother and the father—”
“Wait,” Targon interrupted, giving Elister a sidelong look. “What are you talking about?”
Salina jumped in. “Try to assume we don’t know anything about the transits and gatekeepers.”
“That is not far from the truth,” Khan said bluntly, receiving a nasty look from the lady.
“Hmm,” Elister said, pausing to think for a moment. “This is too complicated for you. Let me try an easier way.”
Everyone except Khan nodded, and Salina tried to encourage Elister. “Do go on, Master Elister.”
“Every two hundred years, the world faces destruction, and every one thousand years, the destruction is magnified by the opening of a portal to Father Death.” Elister smiled, looking at everyone and making them feel uncomfortable.
“That’s it?” Salina asked.
“Do you need more?” Khan turned to Salina.
Salina looked over at the wizard. “So the tall tales are true?”
“Which ones would those be?” Elister asked, tilting his head slightly and looking at Salina.
“The ones about the destruction of Agon when Father Death arrives,” Salina said, her voice sounding low and depressed. She looked at Elister for confirmation.
“Yes, correct,” Elister confirmed.
“Well, that’s just great,” Salina said, shaking her head and sounding more like Horace than Horace himself.
“When? How much time do we have, Druid?” Khan asked.
“You don’t know, do you, Kesh?” Elister asked.
“No, my master never confided in me, and indeed, I think his master never confided in him, but I am fairly certain that the High-Mage at the least knows,” Khan said, looking into the purpling sky as daylight hinted of its arrival.
“More than only your Chief Mage,” Elister said. “The trio of your order also knew.”
“You mean the Arch
-Mages?” Khan asked, finally obtaining some kind of independent confirmation of his suspicions that he carried around with him for years and years.
“Yes, if that is what you call that Okre fellow down by the river,” Elister said, nodding west.
“He was Am-Ohkre,” Khan said, distinctly pronouncing the Arch-Mage’s name. “But what can they do with this knowledge?”
“Much,” Elister explained. “They were after something, and whatever it was seemed important enough to them to expend all their resources and invade both Ulatha and Tyniria.”
“Tyniri what?” Targon asked.
“Rockton,” Khan said, explaining to the Ulathan woodsman. “What is the High-Mage and Arch-Mages after?”
“Well, quite frankly, I don’t know for sure, but it can’t be for any benevolent reason. Of that I am certain,” Elister said.
Dorsun leaned over and whispered something to Khan. “Yes,” Khan said out loud to Dorsun, “he does seem to be his usual self.”
“I don’t see any difference in him,” Targon said, looking at the Kesh.
“There was most certainly one, though not very discernible.” Khan returned Targon’s gaze before looking at Elister. “So what do you propose?”
Before Elister could respond, Salina interrupted. “Elister, what did you mean by saying your time was short? Is something wrong?”
Elister smiled again, and finally the others were starting to get used to it. “How thoughtful of you. You know, it takes a woman’s touch sometimes to notice the details.” Elister finished by looking at Targon.
Targon placed his hand on his chest. “What?”
“Brave, but not very attentive,” Elister began before turning to look at Salina. “Well, my dear, all I can say is that I am indeed dead and my situation will not improve in the future. In fact, I expect that once the transit has completed and Father Death leaves Agon for another two centuries, I shall resume my previous state and sleep eternally with the ancients.”
“So you are animated only for a limited time?” Khan asked.
“Yes.” Elister looked at the wizard.
Dead Druid: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 2 (Ranger Series) Page 26