The Shrine of Kallen (The Tales of Zanoth Book 3)

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  The jubilation this brought was further augmented by the thought that, once they reached the fortress, they would be able to build homes and farms. For the moment at least, fear of the undead and fear of hunger had been swept from their minds. What had been thought of by many as a hopeless dream just weeks before, now seemed almost an inevitability; the it would soon lead them from the terrors of their world into a haven of safety beyond the reach of the undead hordes.

  This joy was not without its share of pain, however. Longing filled the souls of those whose kin had remained behind to stand guard over the treasures the living had fought so hard to win. Here and there, the tears of mothers, wives, and children ran silently down faces filled with sorrow as they learned of loved ones lost.

  Even in these agonies, though, there was hope. The men who had laid down their lives had sacrificed them as warriors, struggling to shatter the shackles of their people. The blood they shed was the cost of freedom for those they left behind. It was a sincere consolation to their kith and kin that they had willingly paid this price. For centuries, the living had had no choice but to give up their lives for the dead. These heroes who had fallen in battle had chosen their fate. That choice was freedom.

  Shortly after the meal was concluded, Paul took up a seat beside the fire that was kept continually burning in the middle of the chamber and began telling stories to the children who temporarily called the catacombs home. He regaled them with tales of the adventures he and his companions had experienced since they had last seen him.

  They sat spellbound as he recounted how Myra had disguised the party as undead so they could attack one of Lord Renald's storehouses while ensuring that the blame for the assault fell on Lord Darril. Laughter filled the air as he reenacted Joey's borderline panic when he thought Nyssa was missing – assuring the children (not completely truthfully) that he had never doubted the safety of the powerful fairy for a moment.

  Several mouths hung agape as he extolled the valor of his companions during the capture of Kal Tammon; where they faced the deadly commander Galfas and the skeletal knights that served him. Many a shudder ran down the spines of his audience as he described the deadly beast that had hidden in the darkness beneath the Fortress of Donmar.

  Finally, he described the siege they had endured just before making their way back to the catacombs. Once again, the paladin painted his allies as unconquerable heroes, whereas he was simply the symbol around which they rallied.

  After his tale was complete, the children insisted that he see the progress they had made in the art of shadow puppets before they allowed him to rejoin his companions. Once he had approved their efforts, as well as suggested some improvements, he left them to work on their craft while he lay down on a half-empty sack of grain near where Myra sat.

  “I've said it before,” she smiled. “You would make a good father.”

  “I hope to one day,” he replied, returning her smile. “After all, I know someone who I'm sure would make an excellent mother.”

  “You should talk to her about it some time.”

  “I intend to,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

  “I'm glad to hear it,” she replied softly. “How many children do you want?”

  “That's an odd question,” Alena interjected, joining their conversation from where she lie.

  “I don't think it's odd,” Paul chuckled.

  “Well, no,” the ogress ceded. “It's not odd in and of itself, I guess. It just strikes me as odd because we live in Zanoth. My answer to that question had always invariably been: none.”

  “When did you have to answer that question?” Sarrac asked, rolling over on his side to gaze at the ogress.

  “Never,” she chuckled. “I just mean; if anyone had ever asked me, that's what I would have told them.”

  “Would have is past-tense,” the ogre pointed out.

  “Well, I don't think it's likely to come up now,” she laughed again.

  “Why is that?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow.

  “I'm too old,” she replied, shaking her head slowly.

  “That's nonsense,” he said, chuckling in turn. “My mother was years older than you when she had me. Plus, of course, you're still an extremely attractive ogress.”

  “Whatever the case,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “it's no concern of yours as I'm clearly too old for you.”

  “That's nonsense,” he repeated, rolling onto his back, putting his hands behind his head, and closing his eyes with a contented smile on his face.

  “You're an idiot sometimes,” she asserted.

  “Sometimes,” he agreed.

  “You're not old, Alena,” Myra pointed out. “You're only...”

  “Forty,” the ogress said.

  “Forty,” the maiden nodded. “Which, for a human would only be around thirty or so.”

  “For a human?” Joey asked, glancing over the top of the book he was reading.

  “Ogres live a litter longer than humans,” Myra explained. “And, they age more slowly.”

  “I don't know,” the wizard said thoughtfully, “if you'd have asked me to guess Alena's age, I'd have said she was around...”

  Here the ogress cut him a look.

  “Twenty-three,” he said with a nod before turning back to his studies.

  “Spending most of your life in the dark lands and constantly running from undead ages you prematurely,” the ogress asserted with a bit of a scowl.

  “More nonsense,” Sarrac said with his eyes still closed as his smile widened. “In fact, you're still really hot, as Joey would put it.”

  “Would you shut up?”

  “I might,” he replied before taking a deep breath through his nose. “If you would all get quiet so I could fall asleep. Either way, Myra was making the point that you're not nearly too old to have children.”

  “I was,” the former lich nodded. “You still have plenty of time, Alena.”

  “You need more than time,” the ogress pointed out.

  “I bet I know where you could get it,” Sarrac chuckled.

  This observation caused Darek to laugh out loud.

  “Are you trying to bait me into telling you that you're handsome?” the ogress asked, her eyes on the ogre. “Because, I'm not going to.”

  “I don't need you to,” he replied, shaking his head but refusing to open his eyes. “I've already got plenty of self-confidence.”

  “You've already got too much!” she exclaimed. “What's gotten into you tonight?”

  “I don't know,” he admitted, opening his eyes and rolling back onto his side. “I've just begun to consider things that I'd never considered of before.”

  “Darek, could I speak with you for a moment?” Nyssa interrupted, flying quickly up to the group.

  “Certainly,” he replied, climbing to his feet and following the fair fairy as she fluttered a short distance away.

  Joey glanced at the pair before lowering his eyes back to his book.

  “What kind of things?” the ogress asked with a touch of suspicion in her voice.

  “Things like children,” he said, waving his right hand in the general direction of Paul and Myra. “Like having a wife, a home, and maybe a garden.”

  “A garden?”

  “I like fresh vegetables, don't you?”

  “Of course, I do, but...” she began.

  “The thing is,” he continued, “for the first time in my life, I can imagine not having to fight the undead until my very last breath.”

  “You would give up the cause just to...”

  “Of course not!” he interrupted. “That's not what I'm saying at all.”

  “Then, what are you saying?”

  “There may actually come a day,” he replied, “in our lifetime, when the undead have been completely defeated.”

  “That's not going to happen in our lifetimes,” Myra disagreed, shaking her head. “There's just too much to be done.”

  “Maybe you're right,” Sarrac nodded. “But,
there may come a day where we'd be able to retire.”

  “Now, there's a thought I’ve never had,” Darek asserted, returning to his seat and rejoining the conversation. “Retire... That's something no one's been able to do in centuries.”

  “The mad monk did,” Nyssa pointed out, before dropping a bag in front of Joey. “There you go. It's been playing on my mind, so I figured I'd better go ahead and take care of it.”

  “I stand corrected,” Darek said. “Still, retirement is something I’ve never considered for myself.”

  “What is this?” Joey asked, opening the bag to find that it contained a number of golden coins.

  “Your payment for my summoning you here,” she explained. “You never named a price, so I decided to pay you what I thought was fair.”

  “No, thanks,” he replied, shaking his head and closing the bag. “That's not what I'm charging. Where did you get this gold?”

  “Darek loaned it to me,” she explained.

  “Whose side are you on, man?” Joey asked.

  “Nyssa's,” he chuckled.

  “Well, she's paying you back,” the wizard replied, tossing the bag to Darek. “She owes me, not you.”

  “What is it that I owe you?”

  “I'll tell you later.”

  “If you don't tell me, I won't know,” she pointed out. “If I don't know, I'll be curious. If I'm curious, I'll have to try to figure it out. Just like the thing – whatever it is. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I wonder if what you want is in the room we don't know what is? Is that why you haven't asked me for it yet?”

  “You've got it on you now,” he assured her. “I just haven't told you yet because I know how good curiosity makes you feel.”

  “Wow,” she said, gazing into his eyes and gently biting her lower lip. “That's really thoughtful of you. I had no idea you could be so considerate.”

  “You've inspired me to be a better man.”

  “So, it would seem.”

  “Retirement,” Darek repeated, lying back and staring at the ceiling. “It's almost... I don't know. It seems crazy to think about.”

  “It is,” Alena agreed.

  “No, it’s not,” Sarrac asserted. “That's exactly what I'm saying. Look at the general...”

  “Yes, look at him! He hasn't retired. He hasn't given up the fight.”

  “No, he hasn't,” the ogre replied. “But, eventually, it would be nice if he were able to. I'd much rather he died of old age in a home of his own than ended up slaughtered by some undead horror. Not to mention the fact that his wisdom will be useful to the cause long after his sword arm no longer is.”

  “Well...” the ogress said with a thoughtful tone in her voice. “That's certainly true. If by retirement, you only mean withdrawing from the field of battle, I can certainly see that. Mark's still a fearsome warrior, but he's not what he was twenty years ago.”

  “Not when it comes to swordplay.”

  “That's what I mean,” she nodded. “Obviously, he's gotten even more valuable to the order over the years, he just can't beat me in a fight anymore.”

  “You cede the point, then?” the ogre asked with a smile on his face.

  “I suppose I do,” she chuckled.

  “That being the case,” he replied, “I'm sure you can see value in taking the time to have a family.”

  “I can for some people,” she said. “But, not for us.”

  “Well, I can.”

  “So can I,” Paul agreed, his eyes on Myra.

  Silence suddenly fell amongst the companions; each one seemingly wrapped in their own thoughts. Understandably, a majority of the paladin's thoughts were focused on the beautiful young woman who rested at his side. It was blindingly obvious that she was growing more and more confident about their chances of success each and every day. Which was hardly surprising, really.

  Before they had found the Fortress of Donmar, the living had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and nowhere they could build a life for themselves. Now, they did. The road to victory was still a long one, but they had taken their first steps down it. Due to their successes, people would be able to grow old in Zanoth. The wisdom and knowledge that they gained with those years would be able to be passed down to the young. As amazing as it was, they really would be able to retire just like people not living in a world ruled by cruel undead. At least, those who lived at the fortress could. That certainly wouldn't be true of Zanoth on the whole.

  Of course, whatever turns his life might take, Paul was a long way from retirement. Still, it was nice to be able to imagine one. It was an attainable goal he could see in his mind's eye; a reward for the years of effort he was likely to put forth fighting legions of evil. There were even greater potential rewards even closer at hand, as well.

  It would be years before he and Myra could have children; even if they got married that night. He didn't intend to sire any offspring in this world until after he'd done a great deal more damage to the undead. Plus, of course, he had no idea if he would be able to stay in Zanoth or not. There was no way he could make a commitment like that until he was certain that he'd never end up dragged back to Earth again. Or, until he could find a way to drag her there along with him.

  Not that she had agreed to be his wife yet, of course. She would, though. He was sure of that. Fairly sure. She would have to say yes. Otherwise, she'd have just been leading him on. That wasn't like her at all. All that good father stuff was meant to plant ideas in his head. And, it had. Surely, she hadn't said that to him just to flatter him. He was sure she hadn't. Fairly sure.

  On the other hand, they had only known each other for a couple of months and had only been dating – courting – for a small portion of that. She might feel like they really didn't know each other well enough yet. Which was insane of her to think. When you run around with people, risking your lives together, saving each other constantly, and spending every waking hour together, you get to know one another pretty quickly. She couldn't really think she didn't know him that well, could she? No. No, he was just making himself nervous with thoughts of marriage. Which was completely ridiculous. For one thing, he had to have a home to offer her first. Or at least a ring...

  “That'll do it,” Joey said, gazing down at the book in his hands with a wide smile on his face.

  “What will?” Paul asked, opening his eyes and turning them to the wizard.

  “I'll be glad to show you,” he said, snatching up his staff and climbing to his feet. “Nyssa, are you still awake?”

  “I am,” she replied with a stretch. “I've only been trying to fall asleep for around ten minutes. Usually, it takes me at least fifteen. Although, I was starting to have sleepy thoughts already. My mind wandered back to that room – you know the one I mean – and I was thinking about what kind of magical defenses it might have to protect the hot-springs and whether or not you might get ‘blown up’ again and...”

  “Nyssa,” Alena said with a sigh before opening her own eyes, “can Joey just show us what he wants to show us so we can try to get some sleep?”

  “Of course, he can,” she giggled. “What's stopping him?”

  “Go for it, bro,” Paul said, slipping his hands behind his head.

  Immediately, the red-robed wizard began reading aloud from the tome. Words of arcane power echoed around the chamber as he chanted out this new enchantment. As he brought it to an end, he slammed his staff on the floor. Green flames erupted from his back, taking on the shape of a pair of bat-like wings, before instantly dying away, leaving flesh and bone behind them.

  “What do you think?” Joey asked, turning around and extending his new – and temporary – wings to their full extent.

  “They're amazing,” Nyssa said, shooting from the floor and hovering around his back, carefully inspecting them.

  “Yes...” Myra said slowly. “That is fairly amazing... I guess...”

  “You really think so?” the wizard asked, glancing over his shoulder at the fluttering fairy.


  “I do!” she assured him. “They're adorable!”

  “I'm not sure that's the exact word I'd use,” Darek said, shaking his head.

  “What word would you use?” Joey chuckled.

  “Tiny.”

  “What?” Joey asked, craning his neck and doing his best to see his own wings.

  He couldn't.

  “How small are they,” he asked, turning his head from one side to the other.

  “About the size of a bat's,” Sarrac replied, gazing at the wizard's back through one half-opened eye.

  “Seriously?” Joey said, flapping his tiny wings as fast as he could. “Well, then, I guess I'm not going to be doing any flying tonight.”

  “No, you're not,” Myra agreed. “Still, you've made real progress.”

  “And, you didn't try this in the middle of battle,” the ogress interjected. “Which was wise.”

  “You just need to make them bigger,” Myra pointed out.

  “No!” Joey said with a tone of sarcasm.

  “No!” Nyssa cried at the same instant without the slightest tone of sarcasm at all. “They're beautiful the way they are! Well, no. Not beautiful. They're almost hideous, really. But, they're a good size. A little big maybe, but – all things considered – a good size. He just needs to make them bird wings next time. Or, better yet, fairy wings! Oh, and I guess he needs to make himself a lot smaller, too.”

  “It's just a matter of scale,” Myra explained. “You chose bat wings...”

  “You mean; he did that on purpose?” the fairy asked, rolling her eyes.

  “I thought they would look cool.”

  “They don't.”

  “Bat wings,” Myra continued, “without altering them to fit you.”

  “So, all I need to do is change the size?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “However, the larger they are, the more power they're going to take to create.”