Rage of the Diamond's Eye (The Guildsmen Series Book 1)

by Becker, Shawn

  Suddenly, the sound of the town’s alert bell began to gong relentlessly from its perch in the village chapel. Someone had smartly assessed the threat and began calling out to the surrounding fields to bring everyone back to the safety of the ridge.

  Myst knew it was too little, too late.

  She ran past the gate, ignoring the paltry few militia men that had gathered there, pointing at the fields that were aglow with the light of a false dawn. She ran until her lungs were ready to burst, pausing only to catch her breath at the mid-gate. The mules and sturdy ponies housed in the stable were voicing their fear with loud brays and kicks. A small cluster of stable hands were staring out at the carnage, the shock of what they were watching etched deeply in the flickering shadows upon their faces. Myst was doubled over, trying desperately to catch her breath. She waved frantically to get their attention and finally had to shout at them to make them see her.

  She asked them where Sheriff Teeg was and if other men were with him. The boys affirmed that he was at the lower gate with a few villagers who acted as guards. Myst nodded, casting her gaze to the north, to the swaying bridge that crossed over the Tebis’non to the grazing fields. No one was on this bridge, yet. The Grazers (those men and women in charge of the livestock) either had no clue of their impending doom, or they were already battling death. Either way, the bridge would have to be cut from this side to keep the Zyn Beasts out.

  Myst grabbed a hold of the nearest boy and shook him for emphasis. “You watch that bridge! You make sure to cut it if something other than one of our own crosses! Do you understand?”

  The boy nodded and ran for the edge of the high cliff. Myst then ordered the other boys to round the pack animals and take them up to the town. She watched them bustle about, tugging on the animals to get them moving. It didn’t take long. The animals knew something dangerous was approaching. Myst then began running at a more measured pace for the remaining curves of the switchback. She passed a number of field hands on her way down; their terror-stricken faces an all too familiar sight for her.

  At the low-gate, Teeg was herding more farm hands through, urging them on with a desperate, yet firm tone. Myst couldn’t help but notice how horribly small their numbers were. A wall of smoke, pulsing with an inner glow of orange and red obstructed her view of the fields. Only an occasional silhouette would stagger through the smoke showing themselves as either a farmer or river worker. The sight of Teeg motioning them forward gave their terror-filled faces a glimmer of hope as they half-ran, half-stumbled to the gate.

  Myst ran through the gate, past the concerned stares of Jabor and Cris who stood on opposite sides, ready to shove the gate shut at a word from Teeg. Unfortunately, against the Zynnashans, the decorative gate would do very little to protect them, for it was constructed of wood and not very thick. The gate’s twelve foot height was formidable for a human, but it would be nothing for the wolf-beasts.

  “Why are ye’ here?” Teeg shouted when he glanced backward and saw Myst catching her breath. “Ye’ should be with your father!”

  “I should be here,” Myst said, marching toward him. “I am the best sword arm you’ve got.” She reached back and pulled her sword free, eyeing the smoke warily. “How many are still out there?”

  Teeg shook his head sorrowfully. “Too many.”

  Another figure came running out of the smoke, a middle-aged woman whom Myst recognized as a member of the Dellis family. She fell into Teeg’s arms, the right side of her face burned. The work shawl she wore was shredded in the back, torn into bloody welts. She was dead before Teeg lowered her to the ground. Myst took one look at the woman’s back and grimaced. “They’re coming.”

  Sinister howls rent through the smoke, echoing across the fields. The sound gave Myst chills and she had to grip her sword hilt even tighter to keep her arms from shaking. Another howl sounded close by as two figures emerged from the swirling eddy of smoke. Both of their faces were turned up as if sniffing the air for their prey. Each wore the same type of clothing as the one Myst had battled previously. Neither of these had quarterstaffs, however. These two had their claws extended; their fierce eyes alight with bloodlust. Both of them snarled, exposing dagger-like canine teeth. Their eyes lingered over the two warriors nearby, but focused on the gate that led up into town. One creature howled a deep, bellowing sound that reverberated off the mesa stone and back into the smoke ravaged fields. The other ran for Myst.

  “Stay focused and send ‘em to me!” Teeg shouted to his niece.

  Myst nodded, recalling the years of training at his side. The creature jumped halfway to Myst, its arms outstretched for a deadly embrace. Myst took two steps back and dropped to the ground, timing her fall to bring up both of her feet to meet the wolf-beast’s charge. She felt the weight of the creature and she pushed with all of her strength, flipping the surprised beast over her head and into the waiting steel of her uncle’s blade. The monster let out an anguished roar, thrashed horribly, and was still. Teeg let the weight of the beast pull itself away from his sword.

  Myst smiled at her uncle as she jumped up and backed away, her sword pointing at the lone figure before them. This beast was more patient. It eyed the two of them carefully and then emitted a low, dangerous growl.

  “That’s right, beastie!” Teeg shouted, waving his sword at the crouching Zynnashan. “Ye’ve gone an’ found more than farmers to slaughter!” He turned briefly to give his niece a reassuring grin, but the look of growing dread on her face made him turn back quickly. Out of the smoke came six Zyn wolves, their eyes a murderous glare of red.

  “Run!!” he shouted, pushing Myst forward toward the gate.

  Cris and Jabor were already shoving the gate closed, leaving a small gap for Myst and Teeg to burst through. All four of them had barely slid the thick locking bar into place when the gate nearly buckled from the oncoming Zyn Beasts. Howls of rage erupted from the other side, urging the two Malachi boys to bolt up the road.

  “Uncle,” Myst panted. “This gate will not hold them back for very long.”

  As if to accentuate her observation, one of the Zyn wolves’ claws broke through the wooden wall.

  “Go on,” Teeg told her. “I will keep them from following you.”

  Myst grabbed her uncle by the front of his chain mail shirt. “You will get yourself killed! We need you to help protect the mid-gate!”

  Teeg nodded wearily and began to run up the steep slope with Myst. Behind him, he could hear the gate being torn to pieces.

  ***

  Tair had escaped from Teeg’s cell and ran straight for the cargo lift on the southwest face of the mesa. The crane was fairly large, with a huge winch wheel designed for two. Thick, waxed rope ran through a system of pulleys that led from the winch wheel to the lower block that extended over the lip of the mesa. The lift was used to load and unload cargo from the river during the summer trading months, but tonight, it would be Tair’s way off of Joram’s Bend. She knew she had to get away from the town and away from Vettis. If she told Myst that her fiancé had tried to murder her, Myst would cast her out laughing. Better to leave the Bend and wait for Myst to catch up. Tair was fairly certain Myst would come looking for her…fairly certain.

  The townsfolk were starting to panic over the arrival of the strange vessel and the fires engulfing their fields. It gave Tair a haughty feeling of justice being served. The town could burn for all she cared; it served them right for falsely imprisoning her.

  Running fast, she skidded around a corner to find a group of townsfolk already at the lift. Quicker than anyone could see, Tair ducked behind a stack of wooden pallets and waited for them to finish.

  There were four of them, three females and one portly male. By their nightclothes Tair could see they were the patriarchs of one of the five estates. One female was crying into the arms of another while the third female held aloft a lantern for the male as he turned the winch crank.

  This meant the lift was down and this tubby fool would take forever to
crank the lift back up to the mesa. She began to think of an alternative route when one of the women cried: “Hurry Seban! You must get down there!”

  “I’m (wheeze) trying to (wheeze) dear,” the man puffed. “This crank… (Huff) has not been… (Wheeze) oiled in some time.”

  “Ana is down there with those creatures running amok!” the woman practically screamed. “You must hurry!”

  The only Ana Tair had heard of in Joram’s Bend was Ana Jovast. She was the youngest daughter of Seban Jovast – the man who controlled most of the livestock in Joram’s Bend. The Jovast estate was considered fourth out of the five farming families. The reason the pudgy, bald man kept his family in fourth was because he cared more about his daughters’ well being instead of his livestock. Tair always felt jealous when she saw the Jovast girls, for all four of them were well fed, clothed, and loved. Seban Jovast never let his daughters want for anything, and now, he was trying desperately to keep one alive.

  Tair began devising another way to get down the mesa when she suddenly heard the screams of a young woman coming from far below.

  “Seban,” the mother shouted with a shrieking panic. “Hurry!”

  Seban Jovast heaved and pushed at the crank with all the strength born of fear and horror. The wheel winch creaked, began turning.

  The screams grew more frantic.

  Tair cursed. She cursed herself, she cursed Myst’s decision to return here, and she even cursed Ana Jovast for sneaking away for her nightly rendezvous with Galin Malachi. Everyone in town knew about them, Tair saw no reason why they had to hide it for so long. Now it was going to get them killed.

  Knowing she was going to regret it, Tair leapt over the crates, surprising the Jovast family. She took hold of the wheel winch opposite Master Jovast and began pushing and tugging the lever. Seban paused for only a moment, recognizing the young woman he had voted against those few months ago. Then he dug in harder, putting his weight with hers and the wheel began to move faster.

  Another scream came, this time closer. The mother took a look over the lip of the lift base and her eyes widened in horror. “There is something with them!”

  Tair felt the father push even harder, snorting like some wild beast. With a wood-creaking shudder, the lift platform rose next to the loading ramp. Two figures jumped from the platform immediately, not bothering to wait for the locking clamps to fall into place. Ana Jovast ran to her mother’s outstretched arms, her sobs easily heard over the growing tumult in Joram’s Bend. Galin Malachi, a wiry youth barely able to shave, ran to the only male nearby, not caring if it was the father of the girl he was seducing near the river below. He was pointing at a third figure on the platform that stood on the far edge, swathed in a cloak of blackish-purple, the hood of which concealed its face.

  “I-It just j-j-jumped at us in the dark, it means to kill us all!”

  Tair’s daggers came out in a flash, while Seban ordered his wife and daughters back to the relative safety of their estate. He also ordered Galin to fetch the Sheriff which he willingly did without any hesitation. Galin then stood next to Tair, his face resolute on the course of his action as he drew a thin blade from the scabbard at his side.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “I have a pretty fair idea,” she answered without looking at him. Myst had described the battle with the wolf Zyn Beast in detail; how it spoke the local tongue fluently and wore clothes like a man.

  “Your tone doesn’t sound as though we have much of a chance,” Seban said with a hint of a laugh.

  “No,” Tair sighed, wishing Myst was standing next to her. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t hurt it before it kills us.”

  Suddenly the figure took three steps toward them. Pausing in the center of the lift, it threw back its head and roared. It was loud, primal, and it nearly made Tair drop her daggers in terror. She stood her ground, the pommels of her knives slick with sweat. She wished she could say the same for Seba. He had dropped his sword and scampered off before the roar faded away. She barely had time to raise her daggers in a defensive posture when the figure sprang at her.

  The thing was fast and it was powerful, judging from the height it gained from one leap. Its purple cloak billowed out like the wings of a valehawk and Tair could see the Zyn wolf’s black fur. Black as midnight. Black as death.

  One last thought crossed Tair’s mind as the Zyn’s full weight bore upon her and her daggers.

  Wolves didn’t roar.

  ***

  Teeg and Myst had reached the third bend just before the mid-gate unharmed. Myst was impressed with Teeg’s stamina as he easily kept up with her even though he was three decades older. Myst was happy to see that the younger boys had taken her instructions. The stables were wide open and empty and the same boy still stood nervously by the bridge with a small axe in his shaking hands. He was watching the other side of the river, watching the small plateau of rock that anchored the other side of the bridge. His eyes, however, would consistently dart between the bridge, the fire, and the approaching black ship.

  The smoke from the fires began to rise higher and soon it would invade the streets of Joram’s Bend, allowing for even more chaos. Myst thought briefly of Tair, hoping she was still here, but then her eyes flew open wide. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry as the magical fire began racing over the Almdor fields. Even though she did not agree with her father, she was still angered over the destruction of land that had belonged to her family for generations. The fire spread quickly, eating the crops of summer wheat, barley cap, and gold husk. Even if Joram’s Bend survived the Zynnashan assault, there would be hungry bellies in the coming winter. Tears began to well with one escaping, running down her cheek.

  “Grieve later,” her uncle told her roughly. “Tonight we must survive.”

  Myst sniffed once and then moved to help her uncle and the two Malachi brothers shut the larger mid-gate. Comprised of two large doors made of wood, stone, and iron, the mid-gate was a much more formidable barrier. As high as three men, the massive doors were bordered on one side by the mesa and a hundred foot drop to the river below on the other. Once closed, the doors were held shut by three massive beams of solid oak banded in iron. A thin stairway led up to a small rampart, allowing archers to take out any would-be invaders.

  Teeg, Jabor, Cris, and Myst pushed each door shut with the young boy keeping watch on the ramparts above. It took all four of them to slide the crossbeams into place. Myst, once again, was amazed by her uncle’s strength as he immediately raced up the stairs to get a better view of the Zynnashan force. She leaned against the gate, her breath coming hard and fast. Jabor and Cris both gave her knowing looks as if to confirm her thoughts about her uncle. Shaking her head in admiration, Myst ran after him. He was looking out toward the river, watching the black ship move closer to the mesa. The young boy was watching, too.

  “Jon,” he said to the boy. “I need ye’ to git’ to town and tell that worthless militia to form up and git down here ‘fore they run us through!”

  “Yes, Sheriff,” young Jon said with a smart salute. He then jumped down the wooden stairs, his thin legs carrying him up the road quickly.

  “He’ll make a good soldier some day,” Teeg said.

  “If he lives,” Myst added darkly.

  “HEAR ME, HUMANS OF VASALIUS!”

  Myst jumped, her heart racing as her mind was cast back to Valdine and the horror that followed this speech. The black ship paused at the base of the mesa, two-hundred feet below the city. The rough waters of the river’s bend did nothing to move the strange vessel. The water flowed around the ship as though it were anchored to the stone beneath it.

  “For centuries, we have endured the plague of man with stoic benevolence. We have shared this world and our lands in peace. And yet, a grave injustice has been committed against the Zynnashans. Humans have crept into our lands, snuck into our most beloved city of Sirif’Teel and stolen the Purestone from our own temple of Diathanos!”

  It was th
e same speech, given in the same manner by the same Zyn Beast that she and Tair encountered in Valdine. Her uncle whistled softly, his head shaking in disbelief. “A lion Zynnashan,” he said in awe. “Rare beasties those are.”

  The Zynnashan continued, “We have followed your river, followed the essence of our most beloved Purestone and cleansed those dwellings that we have encountered. And it is here that the scent is strongest! Bring us the thieves…bring to us our Purestone and we will spare your lives! Deny us and we shall unleash the wolves of Zynnasha.”

  For a moment, Myst was relieved. They were not going to burn the town, although, the burning of the harvest was probably going to ruin the town, anyway. The smoke from the fires had risen to clog the lower levels of the mesa road. Out of the smoke came the seven Zyn wolves that they had left at the lower gate.

  The Wolves of Zynnasha.

  “Will the gate hold, uncle?” Myst asked, her throat going dry.

  “Against seven, perhaps,” he told her. His eyes focused on the smoke beyond and his sudden intake of breath frightened Myst more than anything.

  A loose formation of at least a dozen wolf beasts emerged from the wall of smoke like a slavering wave of teeth and fur.

  17

  Tair kept her eyes upon the face of the Zyn Beast that had her pinned against the winch wheel of the lift. It was not a wolf that held her, but a black feline hybrid of some sort. Her arms were held tightly against the wood of the massive wheel. She could feel the thing’s claws pressing close to her wrists, not enough to do any damage, but close enough to know what they could do. Her daggers lay at her feet, knocked there by the creature when it pinned her down. The beast’s golden eyes were half-closed as it sniffed Tair’s clothing and hair.

  “It is close,” it growled, its breath hot against her skin. Tair could smell its musty odor, could feel the press of its muscles against her body. It turned abruptly, smelling the air towards the town square. “I can sense that it has been here,” it said aloud.