A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2)

by J. T. Hartke

  “Wonderful!” the king exclaimed when she withdrew. “You are indeed a miracle worker, my dear.” He waved at a table where a vast array of eggs, fruit, and breakfast meats lay gathered. “You will now join me in a repast, while we discuss this wonderful power of yours.”

  The king did not ask one question about her power, but he did drone on about his dreams for the kingdom. How he wanted to build a hospital in every city, free to all the citizens.

  “But that is after the war.” His demeanor shifted to one more serious. “After we give these orcs the sharp end of our spear.”

  Maddi ate of the fried eggs and fresh fruit, preserved at peak ripeness by spells just for the king’s breakfast. She avoided the sausage, but helped herself to a slice of bacon. The hearty meal restored her strength, sapped by healing the king. Before she had filled all the corners of her belly, a half dozen Bluecloak generals entered the tent and glowered at her with disapproval until she rose to beg the king’s permission to leave.

  “I should prepare myself for the day’s march,” she added with a curtsy.

  The king grinned at her, a blob of egg yolk hanging from his lip. “Of course you may go, my dear. I despise eating under their formidably dour faces.” He snapped another piece of bacon. “However, the army will not move today. The vanguard has reached the Lond, and my engineers are building a pontoon bridge for us to cross more swiftly.” Arathan wiped the wrong side of his mouth. “But the rest of the army will wait in this campsite for today. Tomorrow we will move on toward the river.”

  With a final bow of her head, Maddi slipped out and trotted several tents away before ducking behind a wall of gray canvas. She dipped into the pool of her Talent and sprayed it outward to search for Tallen, using it the way he used the Psoul Aspect. Before she could sense his familiar pattern, another one she knew all too well popped into her perception just a few yards away.

  “Hello, Maddi.”

  The Lord Doctor’s voice crawled up her back like an insidious worm burrowing through her spine. She drew her extended Talent inward and focused it into a shield to protect her psahn, as she had in the tunnels beneath Daynon.

  “My, my, how much you have learned.” Tymin Marten strolled around the corner of a tent, a pair of armed men in gray and brown trailing him. “To think how much more I could have taught you…”

  “Stay away, Marten,” Maddi growled, twin knives leaping into her hands. “I’ll have your men gutted before they can pull out those longswords. Then it’ll just be you and me.”

  The Lord Doctor clucked his tongue. “Maddi, I have no desire for us to fight. We have a common enemy out here. There is no need for us to be at each others’ throats.”

  Maddi backed away, her knives pointed at Marten’s guards and her Talent focused on sensing his darker skills. “I’m glad you feel that way. “

  Marten folded his arms. “So…I won’t have to watch my back around you out here?”

  Fighting a sudden urge to vomit, Maddi spit on the ground in front of him. “How dare you take on pretense? You tried to kill all of us, for no other reason than I heard your scheming.” She curled her lips in a grimace of distaste. “And you are the one who uses your Talent to…drain people of their lives. I will never forget what I saw, and I will never forgive what you did to Tanya and Ami.”

  The doctor spread his hands. “Maddi, you are allowing your imagination to run wild. I would never do such a thing. All I wanted to do was talk to you, and your friend destroyed my office and killed my secretary.” He gave her a sorrowful look. “Perhaps you are upset about my giving away your Mission to the Temple – your hospitals. Believe me, I had no choice. The High Elder is very close to the king, and he threatened to put the entire College under the control of the Temple if I did not agree.”

  Squeezing her leather knife handles until she thought she might crush them, a flash of indignant anger seethed into her throat. “Lies fly from your tongue like water from a fountain. How much gold came on the other side of that threat?” She drew herself up and put away her knives with disdain. “You know the truth, and I know the truth. And remember that I and my many powerful friends will be watching you even more closely because of it.”

  Without warning, Merl shot down from the sky to alight with exceeding grace on her shoulder. Maddi folded her arms as if she had expected it, and stared ice at the Lord Doctor.

  He returned a sneer, but a nervous squint wrinkled his eyes. “So be it. We’ll both be watching.” He waved at his goons, who followed him into the warren of tents.

  Maddi reached up to stroke Merl’s beak, more to calm herself than the raven. “Thanks, my feathery friend.”

  He gave her a soft chortle in return.

  By the time she made it back to their tent, she sensed Tallen returning. Happiness buoyed his life pattern in a way she had not noticed since learning that trick with her Talent. There is one thing Marten is right about – I have learned a lot. She could feel him reaching out with his own power, so similar to hers yet rawer and more malleable. So has he…

  “Maddi!” he called out, his hand waving to her in broad strokes through the air. “I’m so glad I found you!”

  She tamped down her nerves and released her Talent. “Don’t tell him a word about Marten,” she whispered to the raven on her shoulder.

  Merl bobbed his head.

  Tallen grabbed her hand when he strode up. “The Lord Magister, he wanted to meet me. He said that he had heard a great deal about me from Magus Britt and had even received a letter from Lady Varana. She told him quite a bit about me, I guess, and she taught him at the Academy many years ago…though he spent quite a bit longer there than I did.” Tallen drew his voice down into an older man’s tone. “Things move faster these days, he said. He even knew that I have been studying under Dorias.”

  Excitement bubbled over from Tallen, and Maddi could not avoid a small smile of pride. She wanted both to laugh and to draw a breath for him. She also trusted almost no one. “What did the old man really want?”

  His led her closer to their tent. “He wants to teach me, too, and he sees me taking his place someday as Lord Magister.”

  “Really?” Maddi paused at the glint of hurt in his eyes. “I mean, I have no doubt you could do it. You are smart and powerful – but I would think you would want to find your own path, like Dorias.” She shook her head. “Following the path of political power is walking a wire over a viper pit. I’d not take it unless I had no other choice.”

  Tallen gave her a concerned look. “How was your meeting with the king?”

  Maddi pulled one of their stools out of the tent, unfolded it, and sat down. “It was fine. I helped the king somewhat. He offered me breakfast.” She gave Tallen a mock curtsy. “His Majesty was very gracious. I got out of there and wandered home once the generals started giving me some silent attitude.” She scratched Merl’s beak again. “This guy found me on the way back.”

  He gave her a questioning perusal. “Is that it? You seem a little…distracted.”

  Merl flew off to grab the tent pole as she threw her arms around Tallen’s waist. “I did hear that we are staying in camp for the day. Perhaps I need to distract you.” She pulled him into the tent with very little struggle.

  A porter delivered the noon meal, a mixed stew of last night’s roasted vegetables, beans and day-old beef trimmings. It warmed Maddi against the early spring chill and calmed her nervous stomach. The camp-baked bread soothed her with its welcome yeasty scent.

  Before they finished, a man about the age of Tallen’s brother marched up. Three other men, one older with a white scar through his gray hair, stalked close beside him. They wore scarves of pale green and gray over their armor, while their leader wore a chain holding a small pendant of crossed hammers – jade set in sterling silver. And they were all armed with very well-made broadswords.

  “Greetings, young friends. I ho
pe I am not over intruding on your lunch. His Majesty has the finest camp cooks in the known world.” The nobleman spoke with a polite and confident tone. “I am Baron Yahn Darax of Feldhelm. These men are my retainers. I am a good friend of more than one of your former traveling companions, including Earl Boris Mourne and the paladin Tomas Harte.”

  Tallen stood up at the baron’s words, and Maddi followed him after setting her empty bowl aside.

  The baron held up a steel-gauntleted hand. “Please, I’m not one to stand much on formality.” The elder guard scoffed. “Or I’d have Fenris here put in stocks for that snort.”

  The scarred man smiled.

  A glimmer of mirth showed in Baron Yahn’s eyes. He waved one hand toward Maddi and Tallen. “What I came here to do was to ask if you would be interested in riding out with me to view the works at the river. My uncle commands the Bluecloak vanguard. They are currently spanning the ancient Lond with a pontoon bridge we hauled all the way from Gavanor. With a solid ride we could be there by evening and see the works first thing in the morning. I have the king’s permission to bring anyone from the camp who desires to join us. ” He patted his flat abdomen. “The food there might not be quite as good, but the company may be a sight better.”

  Maddi and Tallen looked at each other for only a second before responding in unison. “Yes!”

  Before most of the king’s camp had finished their lunch, Maddi sat astride the brown mare she had bought in Gavanor, riding into the Wastes with Tallen and a pack of soldiers from House Darax. The baron and his elder associate took the lead, while Merl circled far overhead. They set a hard pace and the leagues churned beneath their horses’ hooves.

  Few words passed during the ride. The solemnity of the Wastes encouraged silence. The baron remained polite, but drove the party with a singular purpose. Maddi and Tallen stayed close together and shared few words as well.

  Before the sun reached the horizon the sound of working men and horses echoed from ahead, followed by the unmistakable rush of water. A Bluecloak scout greeted them and led the entire party down a long slope toward a massive camp set along the river. As they rode down the slope, the setting reddened sun lit the water ablaze with its reflection. That beauty set among the desolation squeezed at Maddi’s heart.

  “It’s amazing,” Tallen whispered.

  “It is,” she replied, the fiery ribbon of water slicing through shadows of the terrain.

  “They’ve run thick ropes from bank to bank, staking them at either end with large posts,” Tallen said, shading the sunset with one hand. “And they’ve made use of that big island in the middle to secure the lines.” He pointed at a pile of large canoe-shaped wooden structures. “My Lord? How many pontoons will it take to get across?”

  One of the baron’s men answered for him. “We brought fifty from Gavanor, but with the low water and the size of that island, I’d say they’ll only need about thirty-five of them.”

  Baron Yahn slowed his horse to ride next to Tallen. “House Darax specializes in bridging. Our lands lie between the Ironbourne, Snowbourne, and Woodbourne Forks, and each of those has their fair share of smaller streams and creeks.” Watching the work on the river, he shook his head in amazement. “But we have nothing to match this old serpent.”

  Tallen nodded his head as if noticing the majesty of the river for the first time. “Did your ancestors build the Tearbridge in Bridgedale?”

  The baron laughed. “That monstrosity? Hardly. The founder of House Vault cursed the world with that beast. It matched the size of his ego.” He looked to his men. “And now it matches the size of his descendant’s rump.”

  A round of laughter coursed through the soldiers. Maddi snickered, images of a fat noble waddling across the Tearbridge forming in her mind. A rumble from Tallen’s stomach interrupted the picture, reminding her that hunger clawed at her own stomach.

  “I agree,” Baron Yahn said, patting his armored belly. He sniffed the air. “Smells like roast pork on the wind. Of course Uncle Rehvan brought hogs in his livestock herd, even in the vanguard.”

  The gray-haired soldier the baron had named Fenris looked back at his lord. “Your uncle brought them for tonight in particular, because he knows his men will have nothing but trail rations from here onward – not until after the battle.”

  “Or battles,” Baron Yahn retorted. “We may be out here a long time if Highspur is the goal.”

  Silence reigned over the party until well after they had entered the camp. Later, long after night fell and more laughter was shared over pit-roasted pigs, Maddi slipped away with Tallen to sit along the shore of the river. Torches and glowglobes moved along the line of the bridge as men continued to secure pontoons into the night.

  A strange melancholy sinking over her, Maddi watched the reflections on the water and listened to it lap against the stones at the river’s edge. Tallen continued his engrossed study of the bridge under construction.

  “They are using magic,” he whispered while staring out at the river. “Holding the pontoons and strengthening the ropes. Also, there’s a pretty powerful Water mage working to calm the river. It’s rather fascinating.”

  Giving him a playful shove, Maddi placed her lips right next to his ear. “Oh, and I’m not fascinating enough for you?”

  As if he knew what she needed, Tallen wrapped his long arms around her, making her feel tiny and secure. “You are more than fascinating.” His lips found hers, and she lost herself in that private moment along a lonely river in the middle of the wasteland.

  I’ve never met an orc female. They must hide them in caves or their keeps. I’ve heard orc males do not consider them as much more than breeding devices – ovens in which to incubate the next generation of warriors. They treat their females as pure property, something we humans are far above. – Lord Marshal Kevron Spearbreaker 216 A.R.

  The central hall of Highspur bastion squeezed in around Slar, small and utilitarian compared to most Orcish halls. The large chair at one end offered him no comfort, not that he had ever been one to desire luxury. I’d rather have the sweet pain of tired legs after a long march, instead of the dead ache of sitting in a chair all day.

  He wandered out of the audience hall and down a few passages. As always his meandering steps brought him back to the humans’ library. He pushed the door open and went inside, the strange scent of old paper becoming more familiar to him the longer he spent in the room. Drawing one claw along a table, he examined the open scrolls and spread parchments. The maps made sense, but the squiggled lines of Human writing fascinated him. I must take a captive that can teach us the secret of reading. When Codex burned in the Fires, so much was lost.

  “May I enter, Warchief?” Charani Millhouse called from the hall outside the library. The dwarf woman steeped herself in propriety. “I had hoped to ask you a question.”

  “You may come in,” Slar responded. “And you may ask your question, though I may withhold an answer.”

  The dwarf bowed her head while entering. “When was the last time our dark master spoke with you? I have been your advisor for weeks, yet Galdreth has not come among us. I had hoped to bask in the glory of the dark one’s radiance.”

  Slar watched the woman, uncertain where his line of trust with her should lie. “Our dark master is not entirely free from the prison which our enemies created. This is why we seek the vessel. Galdreth must expend a great amount of energy to appear to us away from the chamber at Dragonsclaw.” He narrowed his eyes at Charani. “If it were not for the reluctance of Sargash and his Mammoth Clan, Galdreth would no doubt have more power in reserve. As it is, our master rests until it is time for us to meet the enemy in open battle.”

  Charani bowed meekly from the waist. “Why have we not moved the main host out of Highspur? Scouts report a great army marching out of the Free Cities.”

  “Dwarf woman…do you think you know all my schemes?” Slar sho
ok with a great belly laugh. “Galdreth and I laid these plans long before you crawled out of your dwarf cave.”

  Walking across the room, he tapped a map lain out on the table that showed the rivers of the Wastes. “I will make them extend their lines of supply as far as I can before I meet them in open battle. You may trust that all preparations are being made. I only await one more piece of news.” Moving his hand to the hilt of his ancient scimitar, Slar forced a toothy smile. “Now I will ask you a question, and you do not have the choice of not answering. When can we expect your people to rise up in support of master Galdreth?”

  The dwarf woman’s lips spread in an almost imperceptible grin. “Our numbers grow every day, great Warchief. Fear instilled by the dragon attack last spring rejuvenated our supporter. More dwarves, both within the Rock and in the vales, flock to join our numbers – some even in the nobility.” She clasped her hands together. “There will be thousands willing to die for Galdreth the moment our dark master appears to them.”

  Slar found some reassurance in her words, but her tone caused a strange chill in his spine. “Fair enough. I hope it will be sufficient to please our master.”

  A knock sounded at the library door. I should just turn this into my audience chamber. Everyone finds me here.

  “Enter!” he called.

  Two bedraggled shapes stumbled into the room, accompanied by one of Slar’s most trusted Boar warriors.

  “Warchief,” one said in a dry, cracked voice, “we have returned, but not victorious.”

  “Ortax!” Slar dashed over to inspect the two beaten orcs. “And is that you Brother Aern?” He grabbed the arm of the older shaman. “You left with Libor’s Mageslayers and half a dozen Boar warriors. Where are they?”