Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Fires raged in the throne room as shrieking trolls ran through the mass of fighters blazing like living bonfires. Lenny and Tamboor stood in front of the portal, working together to keep more monsters from entering the fight. More escaped prisoners entered the battle from the back of the room. Someone had discovered a weapons cache kept by the guards and these prisoners came in well armed.

  Ewzad Vriil watched from behind his force field helplessly as his world fell apart. Sparks flew from the barrier frequently as those engaged in fighting came into contact with it. Fear and anger mounted in the wizard. Every ounce of his power was being used and there was nothing he could do to turn the tide.

  Then Qyxal attacked the portal.

  Justan saw what was going on. The elf wasn’t accomplished enough to disperse the spell with defensive magic alone, but the magic that held the portal open was so inefficient and unstable that it left open seams for him to tamper with. Justan knew that if the portal collapsed, all of that power would be returned to the wizard. That portal was the only thing keeping the wizard in check.

  “Qyxal stop!” he shouted, but it was too late.

  Ewzad snarled in anger as black streams of earth magic surged up from the rocky floor and wove themselves into the threads of fire and water that made up the portal. Earth magic did not belong in the spell. The alteration made the already unstable spell unravel. Two orcs entering the throne room through the portal were cut in half as it collapsed.

  Ewzad’s dismay turned to laughter as his energy returned to him. Of course! He didn’t need the portal to defeat this rabble. It was so simple. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? A burst of air exploded from the wizard in all directions sending humans and orcs flying.

  “You fools!” he shouted. His voice was amplified by the unhindered magic of his rings and everyone in the throne room heard him. “Oh, did you think you could defeat me? Me, Duke Ewzad Vriil, master of the Rings of Stardeon and Messenger of the Dark Prophet? Did you? DID YOU?”

  His fingers churned as he gathered power for the spell that would cleanse him of this disaster. He would release a pillar of steam that would cook everyone in the room alive. The aftermath would be messy, but everything could be replaced. This was just a learning experience. Yes-yes, he would not be caught off guard like this again.

  Justan picked himself up off the ground. It was as he feared. The wizard’s magical power was enormous. Whatever spell he released would most likely kill them all. Quickly, he commanded Fist and Gwyrtha to get behind him and focused his magic on creating a shield of his own. With despair, he knew that there was no way he could save everyone, but somehow he would find a way to at least protect his bonded.

  “Ewzad!” A female voice cut through the air. Elise Muldroomon burst into the throneroom and stumbled over corpses as she ran towards the wizard, tears streaming down her face.

  Ewzad held the spell back, stunned. “Elise, get out of here now! I will send for you later!”

  “No!” She spat, ignoring the flames and the battle. “I am The Princess Of Dremaldria. I am not your slave!”

  “GO NOW, ELISE!”

  She ignored his outburst and ran closer. He had to widen his personal protective shield to include her as well. What had she been doing? She had something in her hand, but it was hidden by the folds of her dress. No matter, she was safe now. He got ready to release the spell.

  “They told me that it was his heart!” she sobbed. “But I should have known better. I knew it was strange that his ring was missing at the funeral! It is just like you to keep a souvenir!” She threw her father's ring at Ewzad’s feet. “How could you, Ewzad? He was my father! You promised you wouldn’t hurt him!”

  Ewzad dropped the spell and took a step towards her. “Dear sweet Elise, now is not the time. I had no choice, no. I will explain la-”

  “Never again, Ewzad! Never again!” she screamed in defiance and plunged the jeweled dark dagger into the duke’s arm.

  The duke looked down without comprehension at the pommel of the dagger in his arm. His face went pale. His voice was weak.

  “Elise, where did you get this? Darling, don’t you know it’s not to be used that way?” A swirl of darkness leeched from the pommel of the dagger and gathered around the wound.

  “Elise!” Zambon hacked past a burning orc and pushed his way to the throne. “Elise, it’s really you!”

  Elise saw Zambon and her hands flew to her mouth. She ran into his arms, weeping.

  “Elise! Where are you going? Who is that man?” Ewzad croaked. She didn’t respond, but held on to the man even more tightly, crying into his shoulder. “Elise, darling! Get away from that man!”

  “Leave her alone.” Zambon said, holding her close. He looked into the wizard’s eyes without fear. “She doesn’t belong to you!”

  “She has ALWAYS been mine!” The man’s fearless gaze, infuriated Ewzad even more. His fingers waved at Zambon and the guard cried out in pain. Elise screamed. A flash of steel darted from the crowd.

  “SHE . . . is . . . my . . .” Ewzad Vriil looked down to see the hilt of Tamboor’s sword protruding from his chest.

  “No.” The duke fell to his knees. He looked at the darkness gathering around his arm. “No, its not . . . “

  The fingers on his hands began jerking about madly. The dark swirl around his knife wound grew and circled around his body. The wizard’s already sunken cheeks deepened.

  A piercing scream erupted from the wizard’s throat and ripped through the air, causing the room to shake. Blood bubbled from his withered lips. His flesh sunk in. The darkness around him gathered. The shriek rose to a higher pitch and the dark cloud that enveloped the wizard became impenetrable.

  The shriek slowly faded. The darkness dissipated and he was gone.

  Of Ewzad Vriil, a pile of clothes and a black stain were all that remained.

  Chapter Forty Two

  The two dragons stood frozen, staring at the ramp that had lowered from the ceiling. Deathclaw cocked his head and let out a questioning chirp. Talon hissed wetly in response. Their heads slowly turned back towards the door the human was hiding behind. Hamford imagined that he saw smiles at the corners of their mouths.

  They began attacking the door again, determined to get at the human inside. The door began to rattle on its hinges and Hamford knew that his end was near. Just as he was sure the door was about to come down, Talon let out a bloodcurdling shriek and collapsed.

  At the same time, Hamford felt as though an unseen hand was squeezing his heart. Pain shot through the core of him and he curled up on the floor, clutching his chest. It seemed to last for ages and he nearly blacked out. Then it was over.

  Hamford gasped deep breaths of air, his forehead pressed against the cool stone floor. The pain had gone as quickly as it came, but there was something else. He felt strangely hollow inside. It was as if something was missing. A smile split Hamford’s face. Something really was missing. He couldn’t sense that kernel of power that Ewzad had placed inside him any more.

  What had happened? He knew that the duke would have never willingly released him. The wizard must be dead. Dead or gone so far away that he had no power over Hamford anymore.

  Hamford laughed. He was free! But his smile faltered with the reality that certain death awaited him at the hands of the dragons. Hamford sighed. At least he would die a free man.

  He listened. The sounds had stopped. Hamford looked up.

  He couldn’t see them. They weren’t standing in front of the door any longer. Slowly, Hamford got to his feet and approached the door, wincing at every step forward, expecting the beasts to appear again. He pressed his face against the transparent door and gazed down the hallway in either direction. From what he could see, the only things in the passageway were the remains of Ewzad’s creatures.

  Hamford looked to the ramp that now hung from the ceiling. Perhaps the evil beasts had ascended the ramp and were now in the tunnel to the surface. Hamford hurriedly turned and tugged on a le
ver, raising the ramp back into the ceiling.

  He waited a moment to make sure that no more sounds came from outside the door and reached for the door handle.

  Hamford jerked his hand back as if the handle were red hot. What a fool he was being! These demons were sly, crafty creatures. They hadn’t been able to get through the door, so they were probably just out of sight, waiting for him to leave. Well, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He was patient. He could wait until he was sure that they were truly gone.

  The minutes crept slowly by. Several times, Hamford was tempted to leave his place of safety. He thought, surely they were gone if they hadn’t shown up by now. But each time, he stopped himself short of releasing the lock, thinking he heard some unexplained sound or saw something out of the corner of his eye.

  Then he did hear something. It was the sound of the tumblers to the door that led to the stairwell. The door opened and shut. A figure began creeping up the passageway. The man was wearing nothing but a ripped piece of fabric for a loincloth. The sight was so strange that it took Hamford a moment to realize that it was his brother, Kenn.

  “What happened here?” Kenn wondered at the sight of his master’s creations lying in smoldering puddles on the ground. Then it must have occurred to him that all of the doors were open and one of the creatures could still be alive. He ran for the control room. Kenn reached for the handle, but cried out as the door opened. Hamford’s large hand shot forth and grasped his arm.

  He pulled Kenn inside and locked the door behind them, expecting the two demons to throw themselves at the door at any moment. But there was no movement in the passageway.

  “Hamford, what are you doing here? What happened?” Kenn looked into his brother’s haunted eyes and winced. “Well?”

  When Hamford didn’t answer immediately, Kenn sputtered, “L-look, it’s not my fault, okay. I had him in the Corridor of Screams and I was going to pay him back when this ogre came out of nowhere and attacked me. When I came to, there he was, standing there with that ogre, smiling down at me. They had chained me to the torture table! I don’t know how he got it to help him, but they took my clothes and my keys and left me there to rot.”

  “Who?” Hamford asked.

  “Him! Justan! The guy that got me kicked out of the Training School.”

  “Justan, the son of Faldon the Fierce?” A laugh escaped the large man’s lips. “I knew it! I knew it the moment you told me who he was. I told you that if he were anything like his father, he would find a way to escape.”

  Kenn gave his brother an evil glare. “He won’t escape me next time! The bastard left me to rot, knowing that my master would kill me if he escaped! I laid there for hours. Then some withered up prisoner came in and set me loose. Luckily, he didn’t recognize me and I was able to wring his neck and take the keys. Hamford, the dungeons are nearly empty! The guards have all been slaughtered and . . .” Kenn’s eyes grew wide.

  “It’s gone.” Hamford finished for him.

  “For you too?” Kenn clutched at his chest. “The power, it’s . . . gone. Where did it go? I think he took it away to punish us.”

  “I think our master is dead.”

  “No! I need it back! He can’t be gone!” Kenn began to pace, his eyes darting about feverishly as he thought. “Okay, think Kenn, what can we do . . .?”

  “Don’t you understand, Kenn?” Hamford grasped his brother’s naked shoulders. “We are free of him! If we can get out of here alive, we can get our lives back!”

  “Okay, this is what we do.” Kenn said, ignoring his brother’s outburst. “We escape through the surface tunnel and wait for the prisoners to leave. Then we come back in and fix things up. The next duke has to take us in . . .” Kenn reached for the lever to lower the ramp.

  Hamford slapped his hand away. “No, you goblin brain! The demon is out there.” He pointed into the passageway. “He and Talon are here together! They could be outside waiting for us to try to escape!”

  Kenn swallowed. He looked at the remains of Ewzad’s creatures out in the passageway. “Both of them?”

  Hamford nodded.

  “What do we do?” Kenn asked with a tremor in his voice.

  “I don’t know.” Hamford shook his head helplessly. “I guess we wait.”

  It was a long time before either of them dared open the door.

  * * *

  The orc clutched at its chest, trying to stem the flow of its lifeblood as the lithe female warrior removed the tip of her weapon. Its efforts were fruitless. She helped it along on its way to oblivion with a follow-up slash to its throat.

  Jhonate twirled to face the next attacker, this one an enraged ogre. It charged at her, club raised high, but she nimbly stepped aside and its swing went wide, giving her a perfect opening. She ducked behind the ogre and with but a thought, the end of her Jharro staff formed a razor sharp edge. One slash behind the knees hamstrung the ogre and it collapsed. Her next strike was aimed between its ribs, and her staff formed a spear-like tip piercing its heart.

  She twirled to face the next enemy but there were no more. The bestial army was retreating up the mountainside, leaving their dead scattered on the snow covered ground. She leaned onto her staff and watched them go, happy that she didn’t have to keep fighting in this cursed weather.

  It had taken her a while to get used to the thicker winter leathers she had to wear under her light armor. It was easier now, but how she yearned to shed the extra layers and fight with more freedom of movement. If only it were not so blasted cold.

  She looked around and took count of their forces. Several of the rank and file soldiers were dead, but all of her fellow academy students were still standing. An acceptable victory, she decided.

  She pulled out her message stone and informed the camp that the battle was over.

  For weeks now, their strike force had been attacked almost daily. They received reinforcements from the border patrols, but the academy was stretched thin as it was and it was difficult to get Dremald to include any more troops.

  She set out across the battlefield, careful not to slip in the bloody slush and assessed the wounded. All academy students were taught battlefield medicine to some degree and any minor wounds would be sewn up on the spot with their field-aid kits. Anyone that was severely injured would have to be transported to the border patrol base camp where the on-staff mages could heal them.

  It didn’t take long. The wounded were few and none so severe that they couldn’t be taken care of right away. The beasts had given up relatively easy, a thought that didn’t sit well with her. What had happened to cause them to flee?

  She saw Faldon approaching from the direction of the camp and Jhonate rushed to join him. She gave her report as they walked.

  “Twelve goblins, eight gorcs, ten orcs, and five ogres killed, sir. Three local troops dead and four with minor wounds on our side. The student troops all survived without major injury, though Jobar needed a knife wound sewn shut.” Faldon had appointed her as second in command, so it was her job to report the results of the battle.

  Faldon nodded in response, but didn’t say anything. He looked to be in deep thought. A dying goblin cried out at her feet as they passed by and Jhonate silenced it with the heel of her boot.

  “To update that figure, there are thirteen goblins dead,” she added. Faldon shook his head and looked at her with a slight grin.

  “You don’t have to be that precise, Jhonate. You can put the details in your final report later.” He stopped for a moment and surveyed the field. He reached up and scratched his head. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

  “The battle ended too quickly, sir,” she said.

  “Yes, I know.” Faldon the Fierce looked at her, his face concerned. “But it wasn’t just here. The reports came in just before I left the camp. All across the border, scouts report that the monsters are heading back into the mountains.”

  “Is this not a good thing, sir?” Jhonate asked.

  “
I am not so sure. The patrols reporting back were scattered across a hundred miles of border territory. For the retreats to all happen at once, the army we are facing has to be far more organized than we realized.”

  “I understand,” Jhonate said. “But at the very least, something big must have happened to have caused them to react this way. Perhaps if we are lucky, this will mean that the fighting will quiet down for a while.”

  “We can hope,” he agreed. “Now let’s help everyone else gather and burn the enemy dead so that we can get out of here.” They were no longer worried about smoke from the corpse fires. The enemy knew where they were.

  As they moved through the snow towards the place where the soldiers were stacking the enemy dead, Jhonate cleared her throat. “Sir? Have you heard from Justan?”