Dark Sahale

by Sam Ferguson

  Erik sighed. “Well, I’m sorry for the loss of your eye, but I am glad you survived.”

  “If you are looking for a place to stay, my family would be honored to treat you to a nice meal and a bed. My wife is the best cook in these parts. It may not be fancy food, but it will fill you up and leave you happy.”

  “He’s got that right,” the other guard said. “I’m over there four nights a week myself. Good food.” He patted his burgeoning belly and smiled. “Real good food.”

  Erik shook his head. “I’m afraid we cannot stay. We are here only to purchase a bow and a few other supplies before moving on.”

  “I have a bow,” Gerald said. “Only, I can’t use it very well now, on account of my eyes. I’d be happy to give it to you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Erik started.

  “No,” Lady Arkyn cut in. “I would like to see the bow. It would be an honor.”

  “Cover my shift, Bender,” Gerald said.

  Bender nodded. “Just make sure I get some of the left-overs from tonight’s supper.”

  Gerald clapped Bender on the back and then hurriedly escorted the others through the open gates.

  “Gerald?” Lady Arkyn began. “If you can’t see very well, then why are you posted at the gates?”

  Gerald laughed. “Far Point is short on man power,” he said. “Our previous governor sent all able bodied men to the war. Some to Ten Forts, others to Fort Drake. I may not be the ideal guard, but I can fight if needed, and Bender still has sharp eyes.” The man shook his head as a big smile overtook his face. “The last time I saw you, Lord Lokton, you were flying through the air and blazing your way into glory. What happened to you after that?”

  “I’ve been busy traveling,” Erik replied. “And please, call me Erik. I’m not keen on titles.”

  Gerald nodded and led them through a series of meandering streets. As they walked, Erik realized that nine out of every ten people he saw were either women or children. There were hardly any men to be seen.

  “The war must have hit Far Point hard,” Erik commented.

  Gerald nodded silently. He then pointed to a narrower road and led them to a short house made of brick. He opened the door and ushered them inside while calling out to his wife. “Naomi, we have company.”

  Erik stepped through the doorway to see a nice, simple home. A hearth and oven were placed on the far left wall. A small, round table that seated four was pushed up against the front wall to allow for more walking space when not in use. Behind the kitchen area was a large blanket that separated it from what Erik guessed was a bedroom. To their right was a set of apple and bread crates. Several simple pieces of furniture appeared to have been fashioned from the materials of similar crates, including small tables, stools, and chairs.

  Gerald saw Erik looking at the furniture and smiled proudly. “In my spare time, I make furniture out of old crates. They may not have the craftsmanship you’re used to, but they’re solid and sturdy. Go on, try out a chair.” Gerald gestured emphatically to a chair.

  Erik obliged the man, removing his sword as he slowly sat back into the chair. The wood groaned slightly, but nothing moved or gave in to Erik’s weight. “It’s good work,” he said.

  “I even made a set of bunk beds for my sons,” Gerald said excitedly. “I can show you—”

  “Gerald, dear, I’m sure they’re hungry. We can show them your work later,” a sweet voice said as a woman stepped out from behind the blanket hanging from the ceiling. “You two look famished, I have cheese and bread for now, and I can cook up some stew if you are okay to wait for a while.”

  “Thank you for the offer, but we don’t mean to impose,” Erik said.

  “Nonsense,” Gerald replied with a smile. “If not for you, I would not have come home to my family at all.”

  The woman stopped and looked at Erik. “He is a bit larger than you described, but otherwise he is exactly the way you said,” she noted. “I have something for you.” She turned and disappeared back behind the curtain only to come out a moment later with a bundle in her arms. “This belonged to my brother. He died in Axestone. We don’t have any sons to give it to.” She set the bundle on the table and then pulled the table out for them to be seated. “Please, take a look, won’t you?”

  Erik glanced to Minrielle and then moved to the table and removed some of the cloth to see what was wrapped inside. Lady Arkyn gasped when the scimitar was fully uncovered. Erik gently picked it up and tested the weight. He pulled the blade from the sheath and admired the shine. It had been polished recently, and the edge was as perfect as the day it had been forged. “It is exquisite,” Erik said. “I can’t accept such a gift, better it stay in the family.”

  “No,” Gerald said quickly. “It isn’t polite to refuse a gift. Please, do us the honor of accepting it. Perhaps it will save your life, as you saved mine at Fort Drake.”

  “My husband was one of the archers there,” the woman told Lady Arkyn. “He has recounted the battle several times. I am sure I could never repay you for sending him back home to me.”

  “I was only doing my duty,” Erik said, feeling more than a little embarrassed by the attention.

  “So the bow you mentioned, that would be your bow then?” Lady Arkyn asked Gerald.

  Gerald nodded. “It’s a fine weapon. Passed down in my family for generations. The family legend is it was made by elves.”

  “Gerald!” his wife scolded.

  Gerald’s cheeks flushed as he realized what he had said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “It’s all right,” Lady Arkyn said. “I take it as a compliment. Besides, show me the bow and I can tell you whether the family legend is true.”

  Gerald’s bright smile returned to his face and he wagged a finger in the air as he turned and disappeared behind the curtain. “Just one moment!” he said. There was some shuffling about behind the curtain, and the sound of wood scraping along the floor. Squeaky hinges opened up, and then Gerald bounded back to the main room. “Here it is,” he said proudly.

  Lady Arkyn took the bow in her hand and inspected it carefully. She ran her fingers along the bowstring and then up and down the limbs of the bow itself.

  “Well?” Gerald asked impatiently.

  Lady Arkyn smiled. “It is indeed an elven bow,” she said with a nod. “Fine craftsmanship, and sturdy too.”

  “I knew it!” Gerald said as he clapped his hands together. “My fourth great-grandfather got that bow as a gift from the elves!”

  Lady Arkyn nodded. “I have some coin here,” she said.

  “Oh no, you can’t pay me for it,” Gerald said.

  Lady Arkyn shook her head and continued to produce her coin purse. “An elven gift is not something we can take back. Once an item like this has been given away, the only way an elf may receive it back is to pay for it. Such is our way.”

  Erik watched her carefully, but he didn’t say anything. Even without his power of discernment, he knew Minrielle well enough to know that she was lying. The bow was well made, but it was not the work of elves.

  Lady Arkyn set the coin down on the table and pushed it toward Gerald. “In my culture, this is the only way I could accept this from you.”

  Gerald scratched the back of his neck and looked to his wife. “Well, that hardly seems fair. I mean, I owe you my life. I shouldn’t be getting money from you. It feels dishonest.”

  “Don’t think on it for another second,” Lady Arkyn said. “If I can’t pay you for the bow, then I can’t take it, and seeing as I don’t have bow, you would leave me in a tight predicament if you don’t allow me to pay you for it.”

  Gerald bit his lip and then grunted. “All right, but only if you make sure to stop back this way sometime in the future. Perhaps I can repay you with a favor of some sort. My daughters have taken up the family business of piloting small ships through the narrows and straits in the waters around here. Maybe they could give you a tour sometime. I used to enjoy going out onto th
e water when my vision was working fully.”

  “Deal,” Erik said, eager to get this part of the visit over with. The four of them passed the time eating stew, drinking cider, and swapping tales. Erik tried to get Gerald to do most of the talking, but the man was more than a little insistent that Erik should talk of his exploits. By the time the meal was through, they had become good friends. Erik even allowed Gerald to give him a thankful hug upon departing.

  “Remember, the offer for a tour of the narrows is an open one, it never expires!” Gerald called after them as they exited the house.

  Lady Arkyn and Erik waved good-bye and then proceeded to leave Far Point. Once they were out of sight, Lady Arkyn took the scimitar for herself, since Erik already had a magical sword. She also slung the bow over her shoulder and situated the quiver.

  “Nice folk,” she commented as they left the eastern gates.

  “Why’d you lie to Gerald?” Erik asked. “About the bow being made by elves?”

  Minrielle smiled and shrugged. “Not every lie is a bad one. Who am I to crush a family legend?”

  Erik nodded absently. “I suppose,” he replied.

  “They’re good people,” Lady Arkyn insisted. “From the looks of it, they could use some cheering up. She lost her brother in the war against Tu’luh, and he lost most of his sight. From the way she acted when she gave you the scimitar, I suspect their family suffered heavy losses all around, otherwise the scimitar should have passed to her brother’s sons.”

  Erik nodded. “Likely if he had any sons, they died as well,” Erik said.

  “Besides, I could see how uncomfortable the gift made you. So, I figured I could make everyone a bit happier. They have had their legend verified by a real elf, and you have not had the embarrassment of receiving a gift without giving something in return.”

  “Am I really so transparent?” Erik asked.

  “You may be the Champion of Truth, but you aren’t the only one who can read people,” Lady Arkyn said with a wink.

  CHAPTER 7

  Erik and Lady Arkyn moved to the edge of the forest and looked out across the valley to the set of three mountains. Unlike normal ranges where the mountains rolled along a line, these three jutted up like spears stabbing at the clouds. None of the peaks touched each other. Instead, they formed a kind of loose triangular valley between them.

  “If the shadowfiend Njar spoke of is the murderer, he will likely know we are here,” Lady Arkyn said.

  Erik nodded. “If Njar knew of this shadowfiend, why didn’t he warn us of him long ago?”

  Lady Arkyn sighed. “Perhaps Njar had planned to work with him,” she supposed.

  “Work with him?” Erik echoed.

  Lady Arkyn shrugged. “You know Njar, he likes to take in pet projects. He never fails to see the possibility of rescuing a lost soul.”

  Erik knew that all too well. During Erik and Lady Arkyn’s first few months of traveling together, she had told him several stories about Njar’s exploits. For Erik, learning that his own father was in fact a shadowfiend was more than a little bit unnerving. As a child in the orphanage he had often wished he could understand his origins, but after Lady Arkyn had revealed everything that Dremathor had done before Njar was finally able to successfully turn the man from his evil ways, he wanted nothing more than to forget all of it. Sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss, Erik thought to himself.

  She told him of several other instances when Njar had reached out to help save other lost souls. Njar’s intentions were always pure, of course, but the outcome was not always favorable. Still, Erik had to give the satyr credit, for he did far more good than harm.

  In addition to helping to rehabilitate shadowfiends, or wayward wizards, Njar also had a soft spot for helping younger people in distress. For example, he had learned that Dimwater and Njar were quite close friends, and shared a long history together, starting when Lady Dimwater was in her first year at Kuldiga Academy. Without his help, she may have grown up to be a very different person, considering the violence and adversities she had to go through, beginning with her mother’s murder at the hands of a shade.

  Looking back on those first couple of months with Lady Arkyn, Erik realized now that he had learned more about his friends from Lady Arkyn than he had ever understood in all the time traveling with them while on their mission to destroy Tu’luh the Red and Nagar’s Blight.

  Erik looked out toward the three spires jabbing at the clouds above. He wondered if Lady Arkyn might be right. Had Njar tried to work with the shadowfiend here and failed, or had he not yet gotten around to approaching this particular individual? As he looked at the cave, wondering whether the shadowfiend inside was responsible for the murder of thirteen sahale, he was forced to whisper a silent thanks to Njar for his work with Eldrik Cedreau.

  Eldrik, who now went by the name of Aparen, was on quite the dark path not so long ago. After House Lokton and House Cedreau had clashed in a war that resulted in the deaths of Lord Cedreau and Eldrik’s younger brother, Timon, Eldrik had taken up company with a coven of witches. Eventually he had slain Lord Lokton and had even become a shadowfiend himself. There was no telling what kind of havoc Eldrik would have wreaked upon the Middle Kingdom had Njar not intervened.

  Likely, the person hiding within Pracheloor Cave was someone who was like Eldrik, except that this time Njar apparently had failed to rescue him before he turned to the darker arts. Erik, on the other hand, was determined not to give in to the temptation of his own power. As a human, he was stronger than most and better with a sword than any except Master Lepkin only. As a dragon, well, Erik was unrivaled in the Middle Kingdom.

  He never spoke about it, but there was always a seed of lust that threatened to sprout in the back of his mind. Ideas that flashed through his head in an instant, urging him to take the throne for himself, or if not the throne, then to carve out a holding of his own by tooth and claw. Even when he thought of the holdings of House Lokton, which now were rightfully his to rule with his parents both deceased, there was still a hunger for more.

  This is why he had given the demon at the monastery the option of seeking mercy.

  The idea of offering mercy, of trying to find the value in each life, kept Erik humble. It forced him to think through any actions he might take. By understanding the consequences of his dealings with everyone around him, he was better equipped to quench those lusting thoughts for power before they could take root in his mind. He had once given in to emotion. He had let himself fight without caring for another. As a result, the blood feud between House Lokton and House Cedreau had boiled into a bloody and costly war.

  Though he knew now that his father, Trenton Lokton, would always have been the target of the evil senator’s plans, he knew in his heart that if he had not lost control on that sunny day back in the courtyard of Kuldiga Academy, Lord Cedreau and Timon would still be alive. More than that, Eldrik would never have turned to the witches for power, and would not have become a shadowfiend in the first place.

  That was Erik’s burden to carry. He had caused those wounds, and now he had an obligation to make sure he would not misstep so grievously ever again. That was why the shadowfiend in Pracheloor Cave was going to be offered mercy as well. Erik would not take upon himself the titles of judge and executioner. He was here to stop bloodshed. If he could do it without killing another, then so much the better.

  “How do you want to go in?” Lady Arkyn asked, ripping Erik from his thoughts.

  “Do we know much else about him?” Erik asked. “Does he keep servants or guards? Does the cave have any additional openings other than the entrance?”

  Lady Arkyn shrugged. “I know only what I have told you. The shadowfiend who lives here is named Alkantar. He is not one to be trifled with, but Njar didn’t seem convinced that he was the murderer.”

  “Only that he was the closest and best lead,” Erik finished with a nod. Lady Arkyn nodded in agreement. “Well, there is a way to get him out,” Erik said. “One summer
, our stables were infested with snakes. They were harmless, but the horses wouldn’t sleep in their stalls, and some of the men around the house reported bites that were painful and swollen for two or three days at a time.”

  “Mountain racers,” Lady Arkyn said with a knowing sigh. “I have dealt with them on occasion.”

  “My father taught me how to use controlled burns of the hay to smoke them out. We had to be careful not to burn the stables, of course, but it worked.”

  “It would be hard to burn an entire system of caves,” Lady Arkyn said.

  Erik pointed to the tops of the mountains. “Perhaps instead of fire, we can use water.”

  “You want to melt the snow pack?” Lady Arkyn asked as she looked up to where Erik was pointing.

  “It’s one way, but if there is a significant chance that Alkantar is innocent, we might not want to put him on the defensive.”

  “So then, we could sneak into the cave,” Lady Arkyn said.

  Erik shrugged. “Or, we could just march to the entrance and announce ourselves.” He looked at her and winked. “You could stay behind, hidden somewhere with your bow. I could go to the entrance. If Alkantar is after sahale power, then he should be greatly interested in me.”

  “If he comes out as a dragon, there will be little I can do with my arrows,” Lady Arkyn said.

  Erik thought for a moment. Tactically, he liked the idea of trying to flood the caves best, but if he was to offer mercy, then he couldn’t very well assault someone who might be innocent. Then again, a shadowfiend by its very nature was anything but innocent. They were unnatural, cursed creatures that were all responsible for murder in some degree. Magic in the Middle Kingdom was passed from parent to child much in the same way as skin color or physical stature. However, without exception, shadowfiends had all used dark rituals to steal their magical power from someone else, killing the victim in the process. From that point, they fed on other creatures to increase their power. They were somewhat like vampires, except that shadowfiends were very much alive, and much easier to kill, provided you could get close enough to them. Knowing this, Erik felt a bit better about assaulting the mountain, but he still had to temper the predator instinct that was beginning to rear itself from within. That, dark, shadowy part of his soul liked the idea of flooding the caves the best. It wasn’t just the tactical advantage, it was the total victory over any foes that might be in the caves that was tempting him.