Taragon Stein
The Search For The Soul Crystal
Jason L Crocker
Dedication:
For the love of my daughter Amy, and the possibilities within all of us.
Copyright © 2017 Jason L Crocker
All rights reserved by the author
The characters and events herein are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to living persons living or dead are purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author's permission.
CONTENTS
Chapter One:
Chapter Two:
Chapter Three:
Chapter Four:
Chapter Five:
Chapter Six:
Chapter Seven:
Chapter Eight:
Chapter Nine:
Chapter Ten:
Chapter Eleven:
Chapter Twelve:
Chapter Thirteen:
Chapter Fourteen:
Chapter Fifteen:
Chapter Sixteen:
Chapter Seventeen:
Chapter Eighteen:
Chapter Nineteen:
Epilogue:
About the Author:
Chapter One:
The blade sang past my ear and bit deep into the soft earth to my left. Seeing my chance, I dived sideways, arm outstretched for my short sword that lay a few yards away to my right. Grabbing its black leather-bound hilt, I rolled along the ground and sprang to a kneeling posture ready to jump backwards away from my attacker’s last known position. I was no fool; I knew that my opponent would not just stand there watching me rolling all over the dusty earth. This manoeuvre probably saved my life. As I jumped backwards, the familiar sound of a blade cutting through the air whistled inches in front of me.
I had now managed to re-arm myself, and the weight of my sword in hand felt good. As I stood, I eyed my opponent, now hesitant of his newly armed foe; it kept its distance between us.
By the Gods! It was not meant to be this hard. I had just been disarmed! No stranger to fights and battles in all my years, I had never come so close to forfeiting my life by losing one yet!
But ever since I had entered into this underground lair, I had had a bad feeling, and now the bad feeling was glaring back at me with hate filled eyes.
Without taking my gaze from my opponent I quickly summarised if there was any use to be had out of my surroundings. I was standing in a large underground cave, with no visible exits, save the one through which I had entered.
Shafts of sunlight streamed through the cracks and gaps in a cavernous ceiling, but this did little to illuminate the encircling darkness about me. At least my eyes were becoming accustomed to the dim light, and also the glare from my Glowball staff was helping. It was still doing its job and shining intensely on the ground, in the same place where I had dropped it when I had been spotted.
Judging by the size of the cave, of what could be seen of it, it appeared to be some thirty paces wide, with its rear disappearing into the darkness beyond. I just hoped that this thing in front of me was its only inhabitant.
Damn, I was in trouble. I studied my adversary, standing more than a head taller, with thick leathery skin that seemed to be glistening in the soft light. It had large muscular legs that supported an even larger muscular frame. This thing probably did not even need the massive curved sword it wielded. Holding it in its right hand, the weapon was over half the size I was, and I had no doubt that if it connected it would have no trouble severing a limb or even cleaving me in two! In its left hand, it held close to its body a small round buckler shield, which looked a bit ridiculous next to such a bulk, but the beast had been able to wield the buckler with great skill and dexterity, as it had already deflected the one bolt that I had managed to fire from my hand crossbow, and even after that it had adeptly parried a few of my striking thrusts from my blade, a prized possession perhaps?
Apart from the intimidating frame of my opponent, the feeling that I was not going to leave this cave alive did nothing to calm my blood. I was facing something of pure brute strength and terrifying ferocity. I was going to need all the skill and experience I could muster if I were going to survive this battle. A little luck would not go amiss either!
As it took one claw-footed pace, slowly, and carefully towards me, it came to stand within a soft beam of light that shone from above.
It was then that I got my first real good look at this thing, and my worst fears became a reality.
It was a Fangore!
I remembered the battle with the last one I had crossed paths with and how that battle went, but back then I was with Baram, and it had taken five of my arrows and Baram’s long staffed battle-axe to finish it off.
The Fangore snarled.
Now standing in the light, the first thing I noticed was its skin. I saw, in fact, it was a sickly yellow colour, and looked tough, like leather armour. In places, dark brown blotchy circles were seen, more so near to its neck and face.
Its head was of a human shape but half as big again, this sat on top of powerful neck muscles, hard and solid looking. A wispy white beard ran around a mouth that held a multitude of clenched and snarling teeth. The small fangs of the upper and lower jaw were clearly visible as they protruded further than the rest. Two large ears ended in sharp points at their tips, perfect for picking up the sounds of any nearby intruders, as I had unfortunately found out.
But all this I had to take in at a glance because I now held the beast’s blood-soaked eyes with my own, and the only thing that was worrying me more than its intimidating stare, and obvious size and strength, was the intelligence reflected within. Scrutinising, calculating, they darted up and down and were doing the same thing I was, probing for a weakness, looking for a sign that meant the next attack was about to come.
I knew a little about Fangores; they were originally kept as guards for the various magic users that used to be dotted up and down the land. That was before the first king of Southern Kantaria, Lord Silverstone the first had united the south and expelled most of the petty warring warlocks to the far north.
Kept for their battle prowess and intelligence, a wizard with a few Fangores at his door would have kept the most determined assassins and nosy neighbours at bay, while they were free to concentrate on their experiments and spells. Indeed most people believed that Fangores were never native to Kantaria, but more likely to have been born from magic created by powerful wizards. It is said that Fangores were loyal to the magic users, only because they were always in awe of the power that their masters could wield.
Well, I did not know any magic, nor have any magic users handy to start impressing this thing with!
Damn that Verell, if I ever get out of this!
A cool breeze from the tunnel behind whirled the leaves on the ground into small restless eddies between us. My mind raced as I looked for the answers I sought.
That was it! The tunnel! If I could get the Fangore into the tunnel behind me, its size would be its weakness. Its moves would be restricted, and as for that sword!
I had to try. This standoff was not going to last much longer, and I did not fancy a one on one fight with a Fangore!
I made a desperate move. Yelling a battle cry, I raised my sword high above my head and feigned an attack.
The Fangore snarled and took a defensive stance backwards for the attack that never came.
Turning on my heels, I forced my aching muscles to move as fast as they were able before running to the tunnel.
The Fangore let out a blood-curdling roar and immediately gave chase. Power
ful running steps thudded through the ground behind me. I knew I could not outrun it. My only hope was the success of my plan. As the Fangore entered the tunnel, I could sense the closeness of death behind me.
Grasping my blade at its hilt with both hands, I pushed my foot out in front of me to stop and suddenly turn. With only a heartbeat to judge the scene and a silent prayer to any Gods who cared to listen, I lunged forwards, arms outstretched, aiming for its upper torso. The Fangore raised its weapon to strike. The sound of its deadly blade hitting the hard rock of the tunnel’s roof echoed all around me. A fatal mistake, its body, now lay exposed.
My steel bit deep, the blade entered into the creature’s rib cage just above mid-torso. I could feel the tension on the blade as it tore its way through sinew and tissue. It must have almost travelled clean through to its back, as a great gush of warm Fangore blood erupted from the creature’s mouth to cover my head. Such was the impact of both sword and Fangore when they had met.
The ground hit me hard as I fell to the earth, more of the Fangore’s blood splashed upon my head and neck. The Beast fell to its knees, a horrified look of surprise was reflected upon its face. Thick red blood ran through the now red hairs upon its chin. Soft gurgling noises from its throat were the only sounds to be heard. The large, powerful right hand of the Fangore opened and closed. Was this a nervous reaction? Or a last attempt to find the sword that it once held? Placing my foot on its chest, I clasped my hand around the hilt of my sword and pushed with my foot. The blade held fast.
Moving my other hand to join my first, I pushed and pulled with both hands and foot until the Fangore’s bulk finally relinquished and fell backwards to the floor.
I stumbled back as my blade freed itself from its torso. The beast hit the floor with a final spasm of blood that erupted from the now open wound on its chest. I had miraculously stolen a victory …the Fangore lay dead.
I smiled inwardly to myself at the joy of living to see yet another day, another hot meal, another welcoming bosom! Then with the same breath, cursed the beast for its foul-smelling blood that had soiled my clothing.
Before stepping over its carcass, I made sure to give it a quick prod from my blade … just to be on the safe side. The small round buckler shield it had so adeptly used, now sat on the muddy earth. Stooping low to retrieve the buckler I noticed it was warm to the touch, and it was the same warm glow that was associated with all things that had been magically enchanted. So that was it! That was why the Fangore had been so proficient at blocking and parrying! A prized possession indeed! Not knowing the true extent of the buckler’s power, I decided to try it on for a fit. It had certainly helped the Fangore in battle so that little harm could come of it.
Sliding my left arm through the two leather-looped grips at its back, the fit felt comfortable, and I found it to be lighter in weight than it looked. I also noticed there appeared to be some sort of marking within the centre of the shield, but I had no hope of seeing it clearly with the current light. I moved my arm in a few practice blocks as its comforting warmth circulated along my arm, and what had looked small on the Fangore’s arm was just right for my own.
I had tried using a shield before of course, but that had been in my younger days, and it had been a much larger, heavier kite shield. I never did get on with it too well. Back then, I thought the more armour you had, the better, and the line of work I was in you sometimes needed good protection to save your life. But I gave up on the cumbersome shield and chain mail, for the lighter, two-piece padded plated leather armour I now wore. It consisted of black leather hide breeches and a black leather hide jacket. Sewn into the armour at various vital points, I had reinforced metal plates installed. The overall effect gave me more manoeuvrability but with armour plating in all of the right sections. Experience had taught me at an early age that I needed to be more agile than armoured.
Once I had retrieved my Glowball staff, it was time to start looking around this lair. The Glowball’s bright blue light now illuminated the dark corners that were otherwise hidden to me, but nothing else of interest was to be found. A pile of rotting bones filled one corner. The stench squeezed at my lungs and choked at my throat. If there was something of worth in that pile of rotten carrion, it could stay there! A small, blackened pit signalled a place for fire making, and a trickle of water at the rear of the cave that collected into a small basin was probably the source of the Fangores fresh water supply. Kneeling to the pool I splashed my face and neck and cleaned what blood I could from myself, and my now stained armour.
I found myself shaking my head. I had taken this job because work had dwindled in these past three months. Normally I would not have taken work such as this. Being a finder of items of sorts, I was more used to collecting rare items such as scroll eggs, or moonstones for some would-be magic user or merchant. Sometimes I would even get lucky and find booty for myself along the way, such as the Glowball staff I found in the Arcaron ruins. That job had involved searching the ruins for a cargo of stolen Azorean Silverweed. Silverweed had been in high demand ever since someone had found out the beneficial properties it held when used in making love potions.
That particular situation had involved recovering the weed from a small group of bandits that had raided a merchant caravan en route. The job had been a fairly easy one. After dispatching one of the bandits, the other two fled! They were more desperate men than armed professionals. This left me with ample time to collect the Silverweed and search the area; it was then when I happened across the Glowball Staff. This magical thing I now held, lit the darkness with an eerie glow every time I passed my hand over it.
I lived like a King for the next month. With Fifty gold pieces for payment, I had beer and women aplenty, a warm bed and full belly. What more could a man want? Except that the money never seems to last too long, and the next job is always a necessity sooner, rather than later.
But this!
That Verell, the head honcho of the small town of Turon, a fat merchant that got rich and set up his own hamlet to play chief!
I had been staying in the Turon for a week on my way north, where I had heard that there was more call for my sort of expertise. When Verell approached me and offered me this job.
Apparently, the town’s livestock had been found slaughtered in the pastures, howls had been heard late at night, and even the woodcutter’s daughter had been missing for three days now. The people were scared and wanted something done about it. They turned to Verell for action, and Verell, knowing that any sort of help from the local district Governor would have taken too long, approached me and asked me to deal with the problem. As payment, I would receive fifty silver pieces. After asking him if any of the townsfolk had seen this animal, he assured me that what had been identified was a Wolvern, a lesser beast. I had fought Wolverns before. If you were in my line of work you would come across a few of them in your time. Most men armed with a sword and some experience in swordplay could dispatch them with relative ease unless of course, it was a pack hunt. They were quite common in the south, but usually stuck to dense forests and rarely approached the habitats of man. I remember finding this strange at the time. But with the necessity of coin, I agreed to the conditions of the job.
It did not take much effort to track the beast to its lair, but what had I wandered in to find? Not a Wolvern, but a Fangore! I shook my head again as I recalled the last look on the Fangore’s face before it died. I guessed mine would have mirrored a similar expression when I found it, and all for fifty silver pieces! It should have been at least a hundred gold!
Damn, if only I had known at the time, I would have never have taken this job.
You do not normally walk away from a situation like this.
Still, I was alive, and it was dead. The luck of Kanthar had definitely been with me today. I had always fancied that the Gods favoured me, and it had not been a total waste of time. I had acquired a magic buckler shield, which would fetch a pretty coin if ever I had the desire to sell it.
Using the light from the Glowball, I soon located the object that I was searching for, my hand crossbow. It lay on the ground not far from the place I was standing. After picking it up, I secured it back in its place within the holding strap attached to the side of my leg. Baram had made it for me; being a weaponsmith by trade, it was his parting gift when we went our separate paths. A third of the size of a regular crossbow, but just as deadly as its larger cousins, it was lightweight for comfort and quick to reload, it generally served me well.
With one last look, I headed back towards the tunnel and to the outside world that lay beyond. A cool refreshing breeze greeted me as I walked through the passageway, it came as a welcome relief, as it washed away the smell of decay.
With the light from the tunnel’s entrance coming into view, I passed my hand over my magical Glowball staff, and felt the warm feel of the magic inside fade, before the light dimmed and then expired.
Placing my sword back in its scabbard, I walked out of the Fangore’s lair, and immediately cleansed my lungs by taking a deep breath of fresh summer air. The afternoon’s sun felt warm and welcoming across my face, but the sudden change in light caused me to shield my eyes from its unforgiving glare. It was then when I suddenly noticed I was no longer alone. Four armoured men on horseback had approached the entrance of the lair and had lined up in a half semicircle around me. The insignia on the breastplate showed them to be in the service of the local Governor of the area. Part of their duties was law enforcement.
Captain Salford eyed the person in front of him.
A tallish man just under six feet in height, of medium build, and aged around thirty years. He was dressed in black leather boots and wore fine looking armour, the likes of which he had not seen before. His face was square-jawed, stubbled with high cheekbones. Black hair was cut short in a wild fashion upon his head. On his left arm he wore a buckler shield, and in his left hand, he carried some sort of staff, with a crystal globe attached at one end. Salford watched wearily as his right hand moved to rest upon the hilt of a short sword that lay sheathed at his side. His face reflected that of experience, and his eyes were full of suspicion.
Taragon Stein: The Search For The Soul Crystal Page 1