A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2)

by J. T. Hartke

  A ripple of excitement shot up Tallen’s spine, colored by a nervous twinge in his abdomen. Boris’ face held a serious cast, despite his light words. Jaerd’s jaw looked ready to cut glass.

  “Anything we can do,” Tomas answered, his demeanor matching that of the others.

  Boris nodded as if he knew he had no need to ask. “My rangers have made it to the ruins of Kirath, and no orcs remain there. Yames was sacked and much of it burned, though we left little for them to take.” He led them over to the map spread on an oak table. A soldier adjusted the position of a knight from Kirath to the large river crossing the Wastes, and then stepped away. “We have scouted to the River Lond. The enemy has retreated across it, but we cannot tell in exactly what numbers.”

  Casting his eyes toward a Bluecloak ranger with two stars on his tunic, Boris lowered his voice. “Our scouts have had difficulty slipping past the orc sentries. I need someone that I know can get through their lines, and I am unavailable at the moment myself.” He examined Tomas, Dorias and Gwelan in turn. “I know the three of you have slipped in and out of some of the most heavily guarded places in the world. I need you now.”

  The earl turned his ice blue inspection on Tallen. “And I will need you to go, too.”

  Jaerd shifted his feet, but remained silent.

  “To be frank,” Boris continued, “you are the bait. If the enemy still seeks to capture you, as they did in Dadric, Gavanor, and on the Wizard’s Isle, your presence might force them into an action they are not prepared for.”

  Deep thoughts wrinkling his brow, Dorias reached up to scratch his goatee. “That was the essence of our original plan. It may be dangerous, but the three of us should be able protect him. Besides, his power may come in useful, especially if we come into contact with large numbers.”

  The idea of touching his power again, and especially letting Dorias tap into it, caused Tallen’s head to start pounding. He felt the Aspects, hovering just at the edge of his perception. He knew he could call on them if he needed, yet feared it might cause him to lose his meager lunch.

  “I’m in,” he stated, his tone far more confident than he felt.

  A slight smile of pride curled Jaerd’s lip, though the concern on his features did not disappear.

  “Good.” Boris tapped the table with one finger. “I had hoped as much. So did your brother.” He turned back to Tomas. “Cross the Lond if you can. Slip through enemy sentries. Find out how many of them lurk between the Lond and the Gallond. Mostly I want to know if they are bringing the entire host that took Highspur down on us any time soon.” The earl shook his head slowly. “If they all come at once, Gavanor is the only place we can stop them until Arathan arrives.”

  Tomas rubbed the hilt of his sword. “We will need a platoon to set us a base camp on our side of the Lond. We will also need a great deal of special provisions.”

  Boris pointed at Jaerd. “Anything you need, please see my new quartermaster.”

  “Come on, gentlemen.” Jaerd thumbed over his shoulder toward a back room. “I’ve got more beef jerky than you can wave your wand at.”

  After they filled their packs, Jaerd pulled Tallen aside. “I know the enemy may still hunt you, but from what I’ve heard of Kirath…” He frowned slightly. “…and from what little you’ve told me, I have no doubt it will take more than a few orcs to take you now. We know trolls are useless against you.” He smiled briefly, then put his hand on Tallen’s shoulder and stared downward as if searching for something to say written on the plank floor. At last, he raised his face and looked Tallen in the eye. “You’re a man and can take care of yourself. I’m proud of you…and Dad would be too.”

  An embarrassed warmth rising in his cheeks, Tallen reached out to clasp his brother’s arm. “Both those stars and that cloak would make him proud of you, too.” He grinned. “Now let go, before you kiss me in front of everybody.”

  A brisk wind carried small shards of ice that cut against Tallen’s cheek. He huddled between Stew and Shade, feeling them press just as hard against him. He pulled his cloak closer around his body, shaking off its rim of muddy ice.

  Dorias squinted against the sleet as he crouched closer to Tallen. “Cast him in the Fires, the weather has been clear for weeks. Why did Boris have to send us out in this?” He scratched at the ice gathering in his salt-and-pepper goatee. “My Air is minimal, but you excel in it. Can you make us a dome to keep out the worst of this? I think I could give us some warmth if you did.”

  Tallen tapped at his temple. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Dismissing the comment with a wave, Dorias offered a shrug. “That is why I am the wizard and you are the apprentice.”

  The Air Aspect hung in his mind, light and willing. He pulled it in to his consciousness, forming it into a thick-walled dome. In a moment of inspiration, and remembering his battle with the mage in the Lord Doctor’s office, Tallen added a coating of Earth. He threw it out over the cluster of men and horses, and soon a relative quiet descended. The blowing winds and ice pounded against the outside of his dome of power, but Tallen held it with little struggle.

  “Quick, men,” Tomas called to the group of soldiers. “Let’s get some shelter up while we can.”

  The six Bluecloaks scrambled to erect a long, oiled-canvas tent among a few scraggly trees that broke the unrelenting emptiness of the plain. Tallen pushed his power outward to allow them room. Tomas and Gwelan tethered all the horses to a picket line strung around the tent between the twisted trunks. In only a few minutes, they gathered inside, where Dorias had carried a large stone. Tallen felt him reach out with Fire and heat the stone until it radiated warmth throughout the tent, now crowded with men.

  “You can let your shield go now,” Dorias called to him.

  He felt no strain on his ability. “I can hold it longer to give the horses shelter.”

  Dorias shook his head. “They will be fine. I don’t want you over-exerted if we run into trouble.”

  Tallen help up his hand. “I’m alright. I could hold this for as long as we need.”

  He felt the wizard pass an intricate web of Psoul Aspect over him. “I suppose you could. You regularly amaze me with your strength.” The wizard shifted his cloak. “I only hope it is enough.”

  The weather slackened as the night passed, the wind dying down around midnight. Tallen awoke to bare sunlight peeking through a gap in the canvas. Fitful sleep had left him bleary, but a good swig from Dorias’ flask helped his senses sharpen.

  Outside, a slick sheet of white covered the ground, but a rising sun already wetted its surface. Warm air blew up from the south. The horses had a light covering on their backs as well, but a few strokes with a brush left them clean. The soldiers moved to strike the tent, but Tomas held up his hand.

  “Nay, lads, this is where you’ll stay. This is as good a place for base camp as we will find.” He gestured to the trees and the little gully nearby. “You won’t find much more shelter between here and the Lond, which is only a couple of leagues to our west.”

  Tomas looked briefly at Dorias and Gwelan, but his face fixed on Tallen. “Now is when we must go onward alone.”

  An involuntary shudder of fear shook Tallen’s spine.

  “Don’t worry, lad,” Dorias whispered. “We won’t be leaving your side.” Merl cawed agreement from one of the tree branches bending under his weight.

  Gwelan tapped his arm. “In fact, I feel safer with you around, considering what I’ve seen you do…and considering where we are going.”

  Tallen swung into Stew’s saddle. It felt hard as ice and almost as cold. Looking out at the bleak landscape, the little hollow with its half dozen twisted pines felt like a garden. He turned and watched it disappear, while the platoon of Bluecloaks worked to make it secure. A pang of regret passed through his heart, but it disappeared when he looked back to his staunch-faced companions.


  The slope of the land grew steeper as they descended into the floodplain of the lower Lond. Gray-brown switchgrass remained the only vegetation, and Tallen had seen no animals for days. Seems like we’re the only ones dumb enough to come out here.

  By the time the sun reached its zenith, the faint sound of running water burbled up to his ear. Coming around a hillock, he saw the river valley open up. The Lond crawled its way through a heavily silted bed clogged with sandbars and ancient, whitened tree trunks.

  Tomas called a halt and slipped from his saddle. “Remain here among the cover of this lifewood debris. I’m going to take a look ahead.”

  After the paladin disappeared, Dorias stared at the flotsam. His eyes never left the tree trunks as he spoke. “A dozen true Lifetrees once grew in Lond, and their progeny became the very cities of the elves. Now only one tree still lives on Valen, and the elves say that they cannot get its seeds to take root on the mainland. They can never come home.”

  Gwelan spoke up, breaking his normal silence. “I have heard of the Woodsingers. Have you ever seen them grow lifewood?”

  The wizard shifted Shade’s reins between his hands. “Only once, and it was one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed.”

  When the paladin returned, it was with a slight smile. “The river widens where I remember it, and the bars and detritus have almost created a natural bridge of sorts. With the horses’ help in the deep spots, we should be able to cross.”

  Tomas led them down to the water’s edge, where its black ripples touched the flat stones of the shore. Tallen shivered at the sight, and looked at the others with doubt. Stew followed Shade into the water with no reluctance, pulling him along with the reins.

  The deep water froze Tallen through to the bone. His first few steps caught his breath. It came in gasps until he was over his shoulders, clinging to Stew’s muscular neck. Suddenly, a wave jostled him, and he lost his grip on the horse’s water-slickened mane. Tallen threw out his hands as the current pulled him away, flailing about until at last his numbed hands felt the reins. When he pulled on them, Stew tugged back, and soon he had his arms around the horse’s neck once again.

  “Thanks, old buddy,” Tallen whispered between sucking breaths.

  Once out on the far bank, Stew shook his neck and mane, throwing water from him and the saddle for yards in every direction. Tallen stood shivering and watching his fingers turn blue until Dorias brought Shade up alongside him. The charcoal mare did not shake, but stood patiently dripping.

  “Here is a trick you will want to watch, lad.” Dorias held his hands out toward Shade. Tallen felt him embrace his power and draw upon Water with just a touch of Air. The wizard wove it around Shade until it fit her like a sweater, touching her wet fur, then withdrew the Water Aspect, leaving only a faint skeleton of Air behind. When he released the web, a cascade of water splashed to the ground, and the horse stood dry as if it she had never touched the river.

  The wizard then repeated the process on himself. “Go ahead. Try it on Stew.”

  Tallen reached through his mind for Water, threading it with a hint of Air. He spread it into a web around Stew, who had begun to lick the water from his forelegs. He carefully followed Dorias’ example, which he felt the wizard repeating on Tomas, Gwelan, and their steeds in the back of his mind. Squeezing the web tight around his horse, Tallen could almost feel Stew’s wet skin under his soaked hair. He effused it with the Water Aspect, drawing the natural water away. The tiny threads of Air replaced it, leaving Stew suddenly licking dry fur, and a deeper puddle in the mud.

  When Tallen let go his power, the smile of pride in his success flashed from his face as fast as the wind could whip up his wet cloak. While wrapped in his magic, he had not noticed the cold on his wet skin. Releasing it returned his senses to the forefront of his mind. He almost collapsed with the force of his shudder.

  “Here, lad, let me do it for you.” Dorias spread the web over Tallen, and in a few seconds warmth returned to his bones. “You are so powerful I sometimes forget how much more you need to learn.”

  With the whole party dry once again, they mounted and rode onward into the bleak Wastes. Dorias shared his flask around, and before long Tallen felt normal again. He patted Stew’s neck, remembering how the horse had saved him in the river.

  “An extra scoop of oats for you tonight. Luckily Dorias and I sealed those in Air before we entered the river, so they are nice and dry.” He squinted at the wizard when a thought crossed his mind. “Why didn’t we do that for ourselves?”

  “Think about it,” Dorias replied as he checked Shade’s saddle straps. “Ever try swimming stuck inside a bubble? The refinement is possible, and I’ve known Air mages who could do it. However, it took a great deal of concentration, and my trick is much easier in the end.”

  Tomas waved his hand. “We must lower our voices, friends. Sound carries quickly through these gullies.”

  The thought of orc assassins dashing through rain-carved waterways silenced Tallen’s line of questioning. He curled up inside his cloak and watched the gray terrain pass, regularly casing out his net of Psoul to search the surroundings for life.

  They lit no fire in camp that night, Dorias instead teaching Tallen his trick of using Fire on a large rock to make it radiate heat. Tallen even added the twist of tying off the flow of Fire, like with his bulb of light.

  Dorias smiled with obvious pride. “Well done, Tallen. That way it should remain warm throughout the night, and I won’t have to keep waking to reheat it. Joslyn Britt probably could do that, but I don’t have the strength in Fire to knot it off like you did.”

  Despite the stone’s heat, frost rimmed Tallen’s blanket when he woke the next morning. The sky had just begun to distinguish itself from the horizon, and Tomas already moved among the horses. Tallen swiftly traded his blanket for his cloak. He held his hands over the stone, drawing in the last of its warmth. From what he could tell, his knot of power would only last a few more minutes.

  As they rode out, Tallen sat in Stew’s saddle, reaching with his mist of Psoul magic. He searched for any signs of orcs or other life. Nothing but grass and rock.

  Tallen released his power. Tomas still sat in a trance, his face knit in concentration. A slight breeze stirred the paladin’s hair, but nothing else about him moved. Tallen looked to Dorias, who searched the sky.

  “Has Merl found anything either?”

  The wizard shook his head. “No. He has flown almost to the Bloodwood, and the Wastes are empty. From Boris’ reports, I expected at least a few scouts out here.” He rubbed his goatee. “Where could they be?”

  For almost a week they crawled their way across the gray-brown plain, careful to avoid any potential enemy patrols. Merl ranged in one direction every day, while Tallen, Tomas, and Dorias each used their sensory powers. Tomas, being the most skilled and having the greatest range, kept his senses focused through most of the day. It slowed their travel, but it ensured they would not be caught unawares. It was all to no avail, however, as nothing wandered the Wastes save them.

  After setting camp, Tomas returned from wandering the network of gullies that trickled westward toward the Gallond. He collapsed to his rump near the chunk of granite Tallen had warmed for their camp. Exhaustion played across his normally implacable expression.

  “We are running low on stores,” Gwelan said softly across the stone. “Especially for the horses, since they cannot stomach much of this grass. More than a few bites, and they will start to go colic on us. Luckily, they seem to know it too.”

  “We do not have far to go,” Tomas said. “Tomorrow we will reach the Gallond, and that is as far as I am willing to take us.” He glanced over his shoulder to the west. “I have a feeling that we’ll find what we are looking for there.”

  Thumbs hooked behind his leather belt, Dorias watched where the paladin had indicated. “Merl is of much the same opinio
n. He is certain there is movement on the far side of the river, but he dared not get much closer for fear of hidden archers.” The wizard reached up to stroke the raven’s beak. “Even he cannot outrun an orc arrow.”

  Merl warbled his agreement.

  The next morning Tallen woke exceptionally early, yet he still did not wake before the others. Though they’ve never had to wake me. I’m keeping up – mostly.

  Tomas led them a few miles down into the twisting gullies, which eventually all flowed together down toward the Gallond. Merl flew close to the party, and Dorias heeded the sky all day.

  With the sun mounted high above them, the wizard suddenly lifted one hand. “Stop!” He stood there, arm outstretched. In a few short seconds, a black dot shot down from the leaden sky. Merl swooped in, braking with his wings at the last moment before clutching Dorias’ arm with his ebony talons.

  “Easy, my friend,” Dorias cooed, stroking the raven’s feathers. “All is right now.”

  Merl clacked his beak and hooted. “Orcs! Orcs!”

  “Encamped along the far riverbank,” Dorias added for his friend. “Thousands upon thousands.”

  Tomas immediately closed his eyes, and Tallen could feel his energy reach out toward the river. He followed the paladin’s lead, stretching the Psoul magic out to his limit.

  Beyond the bare life of the switchgrass, past the few scraggly pine trees along the riverbank, over the wormy, shell-encrusted forms of life able to exist within the rivers of the Wastes, Tallen sensed the great mass of rage-filled psahn that was the orc horde.

  “By the Waters,” he whispered. “That’s more than there were at Kirath. It feels like a whole city of them!”

  Tomas’ voice carried through Tallen’s trance. “There are the numbers Boris has been looking for. They fortify the far side of the Gallond.” His voice carried a warning note. “That is where they will wait for our armies.”