Blood Immortal

by Paul Centeno

  “I used to think the same about you and your bigotry,” retorted Dargain.

  Taveric’s eyes widened, especially when he heard his entourage gasp. “How dare you accuse me of such blasphemy!” he shouted.

  “So you’re denying it?” said Dargain, gritting his teeth.

  “Boys,” called out Kaylana. “You can argue until you’re blue in the face and nothing will change. Whether we like it or not, the king’s decision is final. Now, we have a long way ahead of us. I suggest we leave immediately.”

  “She’s right,” said Taveric, his voice stern. “Investigating Hasgrith is our priority, and I won’t participate in such a sacrilegious conversation any further. The king will hear of this when we return. He alone shall decide what to make of this.” Upon seeing Dargain nod with a heinous glare in his eyes, the paladin tugged the reins of his unicorn and added, “Spirits be with us. Let’s go.”

  The group rode north past the city gates, their steeds galloping at a swift pace. Jerelaith was soon far behind them. Only the city’s spires could be seen by Dargain and his companions. The jungle they were riding in teemed with life. Tiny pixies fluttered around myriad trees. A few of them sat astride branches while singing in an elven tongue. The guardians found their chirpy voices mesmerizing, but they left the pixies behind and continued their expedition.

  They reached a celestial bridge that shimmered with stars akin to the constellations of the firmament. Ahead lay escarpments of zigzagging gorges, waterfalls, and a river six-hundred feet below. The riders crossed the arched overpass while in awe of the panorama. Midway across the magical bridge, the Vlydyonians saw an enormous mountain in the distance.

  “Look,” called out Zarlando, pointing northeast. “Mount U’cleria.”

  “’Tis my fav’orite moun’tain in Vlydyn,” said Olwe. “Ah, if on’ly my kin appre’ciated liv’ing in this king’dom mo’re. We’d probably ha’ve a ho’me there.”

  “Hasgrith isn’t far from the mountain, am I right?” asked Kaylana.

  “I believe so,” replied Dargain.

  “We may be able to see Mount U’cleria,” began Taveric, “but we’re still at least a day’s worth of travel away from it.”

  “Then we’d better get a move on,” said Dargain.

  After crossing the shimmering bridge, they reentered the wilderness. Though the forest’s canopy grew thicker while the guardians traveled, the sun shone through it, creating a green haze in the woods. Dargain and his companions occasionally spotted slab-shaped stones. Though most of the primeval rocks were covered with moss, the heroes of Vlydyn were able to see elven runes on a few of them.

  “They’re beautiful,” said Kaylana.

  “I agree,” said Dargain. “Did you know that the symbols you see were inscribed on them millennia ago by the high elves when they lived among us?”

  “Who told you that?” she asked.

  “Jorian,” he replied.

  “You are correct,” said Taveric. “It seems your brother knows a bit more than just spells to kill people.”

  Dargain unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the arcane leader of the clergy. “If you blurt out one more ignorant comment about my brother, I swear you will regret it for the rest of your shrouded life.”

  With the exception of Taveric, the clerics were slack-jawed.

  “Ignorant?” responded the paladin, his eyebrows furrowed. “I am Lord Taveric, arcane leader of the clergy. There is no one more enlightened in all of Vlydyn than me. Only the Magi are ignorant.”

  Hearing the paladin’s remark, Dargain grimaced. Before he could retort, however, a vine seized his upper body and yanked him off his steed.

  “Dargain!” cried out Kaylana, unsheathing her swords.

  The others took out their weapons too, getting off their frightened mounts. At first, they only saw a moving vine. Argrigoth readied his bow, launching an arrow at it. When the bodkin pierced the stem, an ear-piercing screech rang in their ears. At that moment, a branchy creature moved away from a tree. A few of the guardians stumbled. Its camouflaged body was made of bark with a scalp of sharp twigs, and its face lacked eyeballs despite having sockets.

  “What in the name of Thay’tal is that?” asked Ceirdan.

  “It’s a spriggan,” answered Orodreth, taking a step forward while raising his two-handed claymore at the beast.

  Scuttling forth, the spriggan released Dargain and launched vines at the group. Zarlando, Ceirdan, and Orodreth swiped their swords upward, lacerating the limbs. Kaylana rolled aside, evading a thorny vine, and amputated it. Taveric’s entourage, however, were seized and lifted into the air. When this occurred, the arcane leader charged toward the creature. Reaching the beast, he struck it with all his might. Upon the iron mallet smashing against its chest, the bark splintered apart. The spriggan wheezed, collapsing to the ground. Freed, the clerics got to their feet and rushed behind their leader. Not a second later, the creature’s body reformed.

  “What sort of trickery is this?” said Taveric, backing away.

  Argrigoth shot several more arrows at the rising creature; yet they snapped upon impact, not harming it. He then aimed at its vine-like limbs and launched more projectiles. That instant, one of the vines wrapped around his neck. Olwe sprinted over to Argrigoth and chopped off the vine that was choking him.

  “Thanks,” he rasped, rubbing his throat.

  “Ya’d do the same fer me, laddie,” said Olwe.

  Just then, a dozen more limbs sprang out from the ground. Kaylana attempted to slice them apart with her swords. With the exception of Dargain who lay wounded near a tree, the other knights assisted her. Yet there were too many of them. The elongated vines eventually seized them. Dargain and the clerics were the only ones still free. Utterly frightened, Taveric’s entourage kneeled down and prayed to the Spirits for mercy, at which point two vines rose out and ensnared them again.

  Taveric withdrew, both hands gripping his maul tight. In the meantime, Dargain managed to grab his sword and stand. Though injured from being thrown off his unicorn, he managed to observe the battle and realized that the spriggan’s vines were attached to the ground. He then spotted a root and split it in half using his sword.

  The spriggan gave out a deafening screech, turning away from Taveric and advancing toward Dargain while spewing venom. Blocking the toxin with his shield, he searched for more roots. Finding another, he struck it until mangled. With one last hack, he severed the root. Again, the spriggan screeched horrifically. This time, it released its victims.

  “Quick,” called out Dargain to Taveric. “Attack while it’s vulnerable!”

  Taveric put his righteous fury aside and complied, smashing the spriggan’s back with his mallet. He struck the beast so hard that its spine splintered, its head collapsing into the split body of branches. The spriggan attempted to rejuvenate, but Dargain continued to sever its limbs from the roots. Doing so prevented the creature from mending. With its link to nature cut off, the beast squealed in agony and splintered until nothing but sawdust remained.

  While many of the guardians tried to get their breath back, Taveric used white magic to heal Dargain’s injury.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank the Nine, not me,” replied Taveric. “By the way, how in the world did you know how to harm that accursed beast?”

  “It was a spriggan,” grumbled Dargain. “It’s a creature of magic. I had forgotten what my brother had told me about them in the past, but during the battle I realized that all its vines were underground. That’s when it dawned on me that it was using the forest’s life force to heal itself. If it kept rejuvenating, the trees among us would’ve eventually died. Severing its limbs from the trees’ roots is the only way to prevent a spriggan from recovering.”

  “Impressive,” said Taveric, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He then extended his hand. “Truce?”

  Dargain smiled, shaking his hand. “Truce,” he said.

  With the exception of Kaylana, who playfully sno
rted, the guardians thanked Dargain for saving their lives. After a few minutes of respite, they mounted their unicorns and continued riding north. It wasn’t long until dusk. During this time, the group halted near a creek and set up camp not too far from Mount U’cleria. Since they weren’t far from the northeastern shoreline, the wind increased. The bonfires, however, kept them warm.

  “I wonder why the spriggan attacked us,” said Argrigoth, rubbing his hands by the flame.

  “Probably because it felt threatened,” said Orodreth.

  “Mind you, Dargain was arguing with Lord Taveric,” said Ceirdan. “They were quite loud if you ask me.”

  “Well, at least those brats made up,” said Kaylana, observing Dargain sitting with the arcane clergy by the bonfire opposite them. “Hopefully they’ll continue to behave and work together when we arrive at Hasgrith.”

  The dwarf and knights beside her agreed and then lay in makeshift tents, falling asleep. In the meantime, Dargain meditated beside Taveric who prayed. Even though their methods were different, both forms of communing to the immortal Spirits were accepted in the scriptures of the Nine. Upon midnight, they set up a guard rotation and went to sleep.

  On the following morning, they repacked their supplies and mounted their unicorns along the creek. Riding northeast for hours, the guardians eventually reached Mount U’cleria. The vast elongated mountain stood out like a divine fortress of granite, its icy peak touching the clouds. Not a single tree grew on Mount U’cleria; it was a gargantuan rock formation that challenged the height of every mountain in the world.

  “I’ll never be gettin’ tired of passin’ through here,” said Olwe. “If on’ly this beau’ty was lo’cated in Niratredam.”

  “I sense something eerie here,” mumbled Taveric.

  “Niratredam, huh?” said Dargain, ignoring the arcane leader. “How come you left your kingdom and live here in Vlydyn?”

  “I’m tryin’ ta be’come the best blacksmith in Yunedar,” answered Olwe. “It ain’t gonna be possible if I be stayin’ in one pla’ce all my life. I need ta travel ‘n see every style of craftin’ ‘n assimilate the fin’est into my recipes.”

  “Interesting,” said Dargain.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “I do not like being here,” said Taveric, gripping his chest. “Let us make haste before a landslide occurs.”

  Startled by the paladin’s apprehension, they tugged the reins of their steeds. The unicorns changed their gaits from cantering to galloping. In due time, they passed the mountain and could finally see buildings ahead. The wind in this region picked up. A dense mist swept over them. Clusters of swelling clouds darkened, rain descending over the guardians and verdant terrain in a faint drizzle.

  Despite the gloomy weather, the riders made their way to the northern city and arrived in the afternoon. Since the iron portcullis was already open, they entered Hasgrith with ease. They were greeted by thatched homes, a cobblestone barracks, an enchanted mage tower with a spire, and a sky-scraping fortress with turrets and ramparts on a grassy bluff overlooking the Pargosus Ocean. Below the stronghold lay a wharf with schooners, all of which were moored. In addition, a market with numerous shops and outdoor stalls was located at Hasgrith’s plaza.

  “Thank the Nine, we’ve made it,” said Taveric.

  “’Tis a gran’diose city,” said Olwe.

  “So it would seem,” grumbled Dargain, looking around the city with suspicion in his eyes.

  Rain started to pour, drenching the thatched homes. Gardens along the temples, as well as manors surrounding cobblestone mansions owned by noblemen, became saturated. The few trees that stood in the city swayed wildly, wind blowing with the strength of an impending tornado. Upon reaching the mage tower, the group came to a halt.

  “Spirits, this storm is unnatural,” said Zarlando.

  “Never mind that,” said Kaylana. “Where is everybody?”

  “That’s the question of the century,” replied Dargain.

  “Maybe they’re just staying inside because of the weather,” said Orodreth, shutting his helmet’s visor.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” said Ceirdan.

  “I doubt it,” said Dargain. “This is the second busiest city in the kingdom. Vendors aren’t going to leave their stalls in the middle of the road. Furthermore, merchants wouldn’t close their emporiums over a rainstorm. Something else is wrong.”

  “All right,” began Taveric, “I think it’s time we split up. We have many questions to ask these people, and this is a very large city to cover. My entourage and I will visit the temple here. Dargain, investigate the mage tower. Olwe, search the market district. The rest of you can travel to the fortress on that cliff and seek out Countess Vesara.”

  The guardians complied, going their separate ways.

  Dargain felt relieved that the arcane leader of the clergy allowed him to search the mage tower. Since so much tension had built up between them, he wasn’t sure if the truce was genuine. Yet this seemed to be proof that Taveric respected him now. He dismounted his unicorn, made his way to the enchanted tower, went up a flight of twenty steps, and approached a brass door. Gripping the ring of an iron knocker—forged in the shape of a werewolf’s face—he knocked three times.

  No one answered him. The rain continued to patter against his armor. Thunder boomed. Dargain glanced above and saw a fork of lightning stretch across the heavens. Three of the four moons were hidden. Only one remained visible, an amber- and red-tinged celestial body resembling a burning eye. Displeased by its appearance, Dargain looked away.

  He knocked on the door again, this time harder. After standing in the rain for more than five minutes, he turned and glanced around. Not seeing anyone, he opened his pouch and pulled out a telepathic crystal, placing it into an octagonal slot below the iron knocker. Upon inserting it, the werewolf’s eyes lit up. Though startled, Dargain didn’t withdraw.

  Within seconds, the door unsealed. As soon as it opened, the telepathic crystal ejected from the slot. Dargain quickly grabbed it and placed it back in his pouch. He then entered the black tower, hoping to find at least one wizard.

  In the meantime, the other guardians searched around Hasgrith and couldn’t find a single citizen to speak with. When dusk arrived several hours later, they gave up. With the exception of Dargain, the heroes of Vlydyn regrouped by the plaza.

  “It’s a ghost city,” said Argrigoth.

  “Aye,” said Olwe despondently. “My dwarven bro’thers aren’t here either.”

  “Even the countess is gone,” said Zarlando to the arcane clerics. “What should we do, Lord Taveric?”

  “I am not sure,” he said. “The paladins of Hasgrith are also absent.”

  “Has anyone seen Dargain?” inquired Kaylana.

  Taveric glanced at the arcane spire, only seeing a unicorn. “I told him to investigate the mage tower. He should’ve been here by now.”

  “Do you think he found someone?” asked Ceirdan.

  “No,” replied Taveric with a heavy sigh, leaning his long-handled sledgehammer against a thick-plated pauldron. “But for the benefit of the doubt—”

  “Help!” exclaimed an old man limping over in tattered robes.

  Startled, the guardians turned to the entrance of the city and noticed a hunchback peasant with a gray beard. Approaching him on their unicorns, they realized he looked at least ninety years old. His liver-spotted skin sagged, wrinkles upon wrinkles on his face. Carrying a wooden cane, he staggered over to the riders while continuing to shout.

  “They were taken!” he yelped. “All of them!”

  “Calm down,” said Taveric. “First, tell us your name.”

  “My name?” replied the old man, scratching his head. “Why, no one has ever asked me before. I am Gosroth, a retired—”

  “What happened to the people here?” asked Kaylana.

  The old man wheezed. “They were taken,” he said, unnerved. “Kidnapped in the dead of night. Every last one of them.”


  “Where?” inquired Zarlando with urgency.

  “The mountain of the divine Spirits,” answered Gosroth, tears in his eyes. He continued to wail, “They’re all gone. All of them.”

  “Mount U’cleria?” said Orodreth.

  “I knew something was amiss there,” said Taveric, his entourage nodding and joining their palms together in astonishment what with his divination. “Kaylana, please stay here. We can no longer afford to wait for Dargain to return. Gosroth, would it be all right if you guide us to the exact location of the mountain where the citizens of Hasgrith were taken?”

  Groaning as though in torment, the old man answered, “Don’t kidnap me. Please don’t take me away. I’ve been good. I promise not to be bad. I promise.” He stepped back, his face pale. “I don’t want to die.”

  “Poor man,” whispered Kaylana to her comrades. “Something awful must have happened to him. He’s terrified.”

  “M’ore like se’nile, lassie,” said Olwe.

  “You have nothing to fear, Gosroth,” said Taveric serenely. “We are the chosen heroes and guardians of Vlydyn. We were sent by the king to help you. I swear upon the eternal Nine, no harm shall come to you.”

  “I…I will have faith in you,” said Gosroth, limping closer to the group.

  Taveric extended his hand, helping the hunchback man mount his unicorn. Upon sitting on the saddle, he tightly held Taveric who pulled on the reins of his steed. With the exception of Kaylana, who remained by the mage tower, the heroes of Vlydyn rode south.

  Within three hours’ time, they returned to Mount U’cleria. Nightfall descended. The rain finally stopped pouring. Most of the clouds dissipated, the four moons lighting up the wilderness where the gargantuan mountain was located. Since each of the celestial bodies were different, their colors created an eerie violet haze, which shone through the forest’s thick canopy. Upon arriving, the guardians tugged the reins of their unicorns and halted. Taveric dismounted his steed, helping the old man down. The others also swooped down their mounts, unsheathing their weapons.

  “Gosroth, do you by any chance remember which cave they were taken through?” asked Taveric, noticing several entrances.