The Abomination of Yaultan (Legend of the Ecta Mastrino Book 1)

by BJ Hanlon

  He crossed the room and pushed the left door open and peered in. A window to the east let in small rays of the moon.

  Papers cluttered a desk, weapons hung on the walls, a flail, a mace, and a long pole with a foot-long blade attached, as well as different shaped and sized swords.

  He ruffled through the papers and found a pair of notes scribbled with his name and the same bounty.

  The constable must’ve wrangled up the biggest and most ambitious in the town and turned normal men turned bounty hunters. They had thought their prey was a weak boy and it cost them more than they’d imagined.

  That meant more eyes would be looking for him, they probably had these in Carrow and every other city and town in Dunbilston.

  How would they make it to the isle? Despite being closer, it seemed more impossible. The Por Fen could travel freely throughout the old kingdom and now they knew where he’d been and where he was going. How was one mage that important that they’d send an army of Justicars and Rangers to find him?

  Edin crumpled the note with the wanted poster he’d stuffed in his cloak earlier. He felt tired… not physically, but mentally and he found himself fighting back tears. He’d never broken the law. A few months previous, he’d want to be one of those men trying to catch the abomination.

  Edin went back into the main room and threw the papers into the dying flames and then added another couple of logs to stoke it. The edges of the papers turned black and fell off as flames consumed it.

  He had to forget about it, about his past. Edin went through the other door and into a dingy kitchen. There was no jail.

  Edin took a step and the floor thumped hollow beneath his boots. There was a cellar.

  Cooking pots sat on a counter with a cutting board and a block of cheese next to them. Green herbs hung like curtains in front of an open glass window that looked out toward a back garden.

  Edin cut the cheese, ate a hunk and went to the rear door. He opened it into the night air. In the dim moonlight, he saw a set of cellar doors abutting the rear of the building.

  He found a large padlock attached to a metal chain looped through the handles. He pulled out the keys he’d taken from the constable’s corpse and tried them until he found the correct one. The lock clicked open and he lifted the door.

  Edin paused for a moment looking down into a pitch-black cellar. The thought about grabbing an oil lamp entered his mind but knew he could easily light the place up himself.

  Descending into the cellar, he had to duck to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.

  At the bottom, he reached dirt. The room felt musty and damp and smelled of urine and feces.

  “Dephina? Master? Grent?” Edin whispered. He heard shuffling toward the back of the room, and the clinking of metal. “Hello?”

  “Edin?” A tired and weak voice said in a whisper.

  “Yes,” Edin said, “close your eyes.” He held out his hand and created his light, a mage light. He needed to start naming his talents.

  “What the heck?” A voice he didn’t recognize cried out.

  Edin glanced toward the stone wall to his left and saw a man probably in his third decade, with a thick blond mustache, no hair on his head and blue eyes. He was sitting in a barred prison with large manacles around his wrists and ankles. Looking over, Edin saw Grent and Master Horston at the far wall.

  They were shackled to the stone wall while standing up. Horston’s arms and legs were retched back and his torso leaned forward like he was going to belly flop into a pool of water. Grent was upright, but his face was gaunt and pale in the ethereal light. He made no move.

  Edin nearly ran to them.

  “Get Horston first, I don’t know if he lives,” Grent croaked.

  Edin fumbled with the keys. He unlocked the feet first, then the hands. Master Horston fell into his arms as he lowered him down to the ground.

  “Master Horston?” Edin said as he put his fingers to his neck. The pulse was barely noticeable. Edin unlocked Grent and helped him to the ground.

  “You’re a magus?” The unknown man said. Edin glanced back. “What happened to the constable?”

  Edin didn’t answer.

  Both Grent and Master Horston’s lips were dry, Edin reached for his waterskin and uncapped the top.

  Grent took a drink without hesitation. “I think this is yours,” Edin said offering the sword to him.

  A few moments later, he began to pour drops carefully down Horston’s throat. Edin leaned his ear closer to the man’s mouth and could hear the breath, short and shallow.

  “Let me go? Please?” The man said, he seemed to have more energy than the other two. More than even Grent.

  “How’d you get caught? And where’s Dephina?” Edin asked.

  “Magus? Are you going to let me free?” His voice was shaky.

  Grent shrugged and took another drink, then Edin poured more down the old man’s throat. Slowly, his gray eyes opened.

  “They found us at the inn… She escaped, I thought she’d come for me… for us. But she didn’t,” Grent whispered as he sipped the waterskin.

  “Boy?” Master Horston grumbled, his face attempting to smile, “so good of you to finally join us.”

  “Of course.”

  “Took you long enough.”

  “It was only four days since we fled Frestils…” Edin said, his eyes moving to Grent who shook his head. “I’m not lying.”

  “That may be, but you’re wrong,” the man said, “they’ve been down here for nearly five.”

  “That’s not possible.” Edin said shaking his head. “You? Who are you?”

  “Assistant Constable Bolvin. I was against arresting them… and you. We’re a small village and I don’t want the trouble especially the kind brought by the Por Fen...” he spat in the dirt.

  “Why are you here?”

  “They went after you right? I drew on the constable, he was drunk… they all were.”

  “You were the eighth man then?” The man coughed and Edin could see dried patches of blood and a black eye on his face.

  “I hate Por Fen. They are evil scum… they killed my little brother on suspicion of magery. No one in my family has ever been a mage, but yet they kill him. He was twelve. They called him an abomination, my parents condemned him. Please magus, I can help you. I know things… how to get through the mountains to Carrow.”

  “We’re not headed…”

  “They got the pass sealed, said that all magus that know of it, head to some isle… they leave through Carrow or Alestow...”

  Edin looked to Grent who stared at the assistant constable. “What do you think?”

  “This man may be able to help. But if he betrays us… he dies.”

  Edin unlocked his cage. The man pulled himself out of it.

  “Where are their things?” Edin asked.

  “Horses are in the stables across the road, their packs were put in the shed behind the building.” Bolvin said, “what happened to the Constable and the others?”

  Edin glanced toward Grent and Horston, they needed to get out of there soon. “I’ll be right back.”

  He rushed across the moonlit street and found the stables, there were seven horses in all, none he recognized. He had only seen the other three momentarily, however.

  Edin saddled a couple of the bigger ones and led them back behind the constable’s home. The storage shed was a large outbuilding, he checked the doors, unlocked. Only a fool would steal from the constable. He thought while grinning.

  Inside of the shed, he saw an assortment of almost everything. Books strewn across shelves, axes, and other farm equipment hanging on pegs, saddles, packs thrown to the ground next to wooden carvings, dishes and shattered glass shards.

  There was so much here he didn’t know what to do. After a few minutes of searching he found the two men’s packs.

  Edin went back toward the cellar and saw the three men emerging. Grent half carrying Horston. The other man was moving fine.

 
; “You know another way to Carrow?” Grent asked.

  “I do, what happened to the constable?”

  “They’re dead.”

  “All of them?” Bolvin said with a quizzical look on his face.

  Edin nodded.

  A weary smile crossed Bolvin’s mouth. “I ain’t native to this place and they always let me know that… bloody hicks. The woodsmen were ruthless with their joking, if it was joking. Constable wasn’t much help.” He paused for a second. “The Por Fen are watching the entrance to Demon’s Pass, but there’s a way past them. A smugglers trail few know about.”

  “You do.”

  “The constable does… did, the califoo used to execute them and take their wares for himself… he didn’t deserve the job.”

  “Califoo?” Edin asked.

  “A term from my home... it means fool.”

  “No trial?” Master Horston whispered somehow getting the strength to talk as Grent helped him to one of the horses.

  Bolvin shook his head. “Easier to rob. Some people I’m sure were honest merchants. To him, it made no difference.”

  Edin remembered the golden ring with the ruby. Now he wished he would’ve taken it.

  “Let’s get going,” Edin said, “I’m not sure when they’ll be found.”

  “Probably soon,” Bolvin said. “We need to move quickly.” He disappeared back toward the stables.

  Edin looked at Grent. “Do you trust him?”

  “No.” Grent said. “But, he may be our only chance.”

  Bolvin came back a few moments later, appearing like a wraith from the shadows. His horse was bigger than theirs and blacker.

  Edin took a second look at the man on his great stead and noticed Bolvin didn’t look like the people around here, they had skin tanned from much sun unlike the other islanders he’d seen. This guy was white and had a light mustache and the top his head was bald.

  “Where are you from?” Edin asked.

  “North of Carrow, a small village nestled between the sea and the Crady Mountains.”

  They mounted and began pushing east through the village, Bolvin in the lead. A cottage set back from the road had a door open and a man standing in its shadow smoking a pipe.

  “There’s something following us,” Grent said.

  Edin looked back and saw the gray fur of Bliz standing and stretching, his mouth opened and he howled.

  “A wolf, draw your blades,” Grent whispered.

  “No,” Edin shouted too loud for the morning. The man smoking the pipe looked up at them. “Bliz.” He hissed trying to keep his voice down. “Come.”

  “Bliz?” Grent said.

  “He’s a friend.” The wolf hobbled next to Edin and glanced up. Edin pulled some ham from the pack and tossed it down.

  “You are friends with a dire wolf?” Bolvin said, his voice cracking slightly, “what type of mage can control beasts?”

  Master Horston put his frail hand to his chin, “I’ve never heard of one.”

  “I don’t control him,” Edin said. “I helped heal his broken leg. It took a day.” As he said that he wondered, how long did it take really?

  “You know healing spells?” Bolvin said. “I thought those were outlawed…”

  Edin shook his head. “Why would someone outlaw healing?”

  Grent guffawed. “Kid you are dense.” He kicked his horse forward as they passed the last cottage of the village moved into the dark landscape.

  Grent said they stayed at the inn for two days when they were ambushed. They were in the cellar for five? Edin told them about his own, and the clearing.

  “You say it was a white tree in an open glade,” Bolvin said.

  “Yes, it was eerie.”

  “The ghost hollow, I’ve heard of it,” Bolvin said, an obvious shudder running down his back. “It’s supposed to be legend. Men go there for glimpses of their future… though many never return.”

  “I did,” Edin said.

  Bolvin shrugged, “like I said, a legend.”

  17

  Alone

  “Why do you say Demon’s Pass, the maps say it’s Jont’s Pass,” Master Horston said. He was looking a little better now.

  “They do,” Bolvin said, “but Jont was a mage. Some people call them demons, others say abominations.” He glanced at Edin. “Sorry.”

  Edin shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it. The word was as commonplace as exclaiming ‘ow’ when touching a burning ember.

  It was the word for his kind and he had to get used to it… at least for now. Even Berka, his closest friend had referred to him that way.

  Edin saved his life, saved Fali but still they hated him. The church proclaimed him a monster to be slaughtered and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Edin looked away at the forest to the south of the road and itched his chin. It encroached within fifty yards of the road though it looked to have been beaten back recently with saws and sickles.

  He rubbed his sweaty hands against his cloak and took a drink. Ahead, just rising into view with the sun, Edin saw the Crady Mountain range. The orange peaks and bluish valleys looked both harsh and stunning. There were sudden drops and treacherous slopes that looked like knives rising through the earth.

  From what he could see, there was no trees or even scrub brush. But he was far away. They reached a small mound and he looked back to the road. Grent was still twisting his head like a wheelwright balancing his creation. A few hundred yards ahead, the road twisted around an outcropping of boulders and disappeared below the horizon.

  “Woah,” Grent said pulling on his horse’s reins, “that looks like a good spot for an ambush.”

  Edin and Master Horston stopped as well. Bolvin turned in his saddle and looked back on them with an assessing gaze.

  “It does, but I do not believe that is the case. I see no campsite and not many people venture into the woods.”

  Edin glanced down at Bliz, the wolf was staring at the rock as well. His ears were turned forward and his black nose twitched to the beat of a cricket. He didn’t like it either. Something felt odd about it. Evil maybe. The rock was flat like a table on top; there were what looked like stairs barely peeking out from the far side.

  “What do you call the rock?” Edin said.

  “If there is a name, I don’t know it,” Bolvin said. “We can go off cross country if you wish,” he paused for a second looked toward the mountains, then to the rock and back toward the road and forest. He pointed a little northeast, “I was going to wait a little while… see that short peak that almost looks black?”

  Edin did, the sun hadn’t reached it over the much larger siblings behind it but it was still obvious which he meant. It was a short slope that looked almost climbable.

  “There’s a trail that circles it and cuts back up the mountain a few hundred feet then back down to the center of the pass.”

  “Well, let’s go,” Grent said.

  Bolvin made a clicking sound and turned the horse into the grassland.

  “There are vermin that dig holes here; be careful so your horse doesn’t fall in. If he does, he’ll have to be put down and you’ll be walking,” Bolvin said.

  They continued through grasses that reached his feet. He kept looking toward the flat rock as they passed. Slowly, the back side came into view and he could make out distinct sharp angles, maybe stairs? There was no sign of the Por Fen or anyone. Though he for some reason saw death around that rock.

  They kept up a good pace for most of the day and into the evening until only the ghostly moon shined.

  “I’d say we’re about ten leagues from the pass as the raptor flies. We go east from here,” Bolvin said. “We should be there in the early afternoon.”

  Edin pulled out some of the ham and fed them. They hadn’t stocked up on anything. They probably should’ve raided the murderous constable’s pantry.

  Slowly, Grent and Horston’s strength returned.

  “Have you continued your training?�
�� Grent asked and without an answer said. “Let’s see.”

  “I’ve continued with the sword and staff,” Edin said taking off his cloak and arming himself.

  “Are you going to clobber yourself again?” Grent asked.

  Edin felt his face flush slightly before holding the staff and sword in front of him both perpendicular to the ground. He began. First by spinning the staff and sword, the weapons whipping through the air faster than any other of his practices. His body went through the motions without thought or hesitation, he leapt. Tucking his weapons, he rolled and got up in a bow stance slashing with his sword and slapping with his staff.

  When he finished Grent just nodded. “Not bad, you can use both as offensive and defensive weapons, and your little staff spins can just as easily distract an opponent.”

  “I thought about that as well.” Edin grinned through his panting breath. It felt good, the whole time he felt like it was meant to be that way. He was meant to fight with both.

  “A distraction to your opponent… and to yourself. That was a dance, most forms are, but that was different,” Grent said. “You’re fast, not as fast as me, with the dual weapons you’ll need to be smart. I’ve seen dual sword masters get too showy with their moves and get run through. You’re not one of them. One day maybe, but now…” He shook his head. “Besides, in the thousands of years of history, I’ve never once heard of a staff and sword being used together. A sword and an axe or knife?” He nodded. “Be smart, drop one of the weapons and focus on the other.”

  Edin felt his heart sink to his stomach, his smile faded. He sheathed his sword and walked toward the camp tossing the quarterstaff next to his pack. He saw the aleskin and grabbed it. He laid down, his back to the rest of the group.

  “A warrior doesn’t pout like a teen who has just been rejected by a courtesan,” Bolvin said, “neither does a mage.”

  Edin didn’t say anything, he let his eyes wander off into the tall grass staring at the mountain a day ahead of them.

  “We all have taken criticism, I was too slow and used too much force when I started training. My instructor called me a brute and a savage, it enraged me to the point of attacking him. The bastard thoroughly trounced me without breaking a sweat.” He chuckled. “That one lesson, that whiping, got me to train harder than ever and to think about the fight.”