Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest

by Bill T Pottle

  The attacker, however, was not without defenses of its own. As Tarthur sent him sprawling with the punch, it swung its leg around and hit Tarthur so hard with its heel that it almost dislocated his jaw. “Tarthur!” Yan reached out and saved Tarthur a considerable amount of pain by grabbing him before he collided with the wall.

  The creature hunched in the shadows, tasting its own blood in its mouth. “Tarthur?” The voice was familiar. “It’s me, Derlin.”

  Tarthur stared at the figure. Now that he saw him in the light, Tarthur didn’t see how he had failed to recognize his lifelong companion. “I thought you were goblins,” Derlin began. “This place, it does things to you. Tarthur, can you ever forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? Of course. You don’t ever need to ask again. Still, it seems as though you should forgive me. I did get the better of the fight.”

  “What? I am doubly surprised that you say that. Firstly, because you know I’m faster, and secondly, because I gave you such a shot in your jaw, I’m surprised that you can talk at all.”

  The two went on arguing in this manner for a short time, until Yan finally cut them off, suggesting that they wait and see whose injuries healed more slowly, the other person being the winner of the fight, to which they both readily assented.

  Derlin told a most remarkable story. He had been in a section of the jail like Tarthur’s, but with all of the cells surrounding his empty. He told the others about how he had tested the door every day. On only the second day of his confinement, Derlin had escaped and was looking for Tarthur when a pair of guards jumped him and nearly beat him senseless. So it was that Derlin had spent most of his time in a kind of half-conscious state, before he rested and was barely nourished by the food he was brought.

  “A few hours ago,” he continued, “I found the door once again unlocked. I tried to look for you all over, and of course we all know how I found you.”

  By putting together all that they had learned by experience in their captivity, along with reason and logic (which Tarthur rarely used) they were able to deduce that there were ten sets of prison cells. Tarthur and Yan had searched through three, plus the one they were in, and Derlin had searched through two, plus the one he was in. This left only three areas of cells left, and gave the boyhood friends a good hope of finding Dalin. Tarthur had come to miss Dalin in the time that they had been separated, and now he was wishing for his old friend again. Still, their hopes rose now that they had a plan, and it seemed to Tarthur that they would soon be enjoying the company of their old companion.

  This time, however, a real attack cut short their fabulous rescue. Figures, who had apparently overheard the trio planning in hushed tones now rushed into the corridor, and Tarthur was willing to bet that Dalin wasn’t one of them. Tarthur motioned to Derlin, with a vague gesticulation in the direction of the old man, who was both surprised and lost at this new turn of events. Derlin, understanding immediately, pulled Yan to the back and out of harm’s way. Simultaneously, the boys went to draw their swords, which they had grown accustomed to wearing at their sides ever since they had met the merfolk. Groping about uncertainly, both were rather dismayed to find that they weren’t wearing any. At this point, they both rushed forward as if they were one person, and flew into their attackers with a vengeance. Fists and feet were flying haphazardly, and soon the pursuing goblins were forced to wait and think twice before proceeding. It is no small wonder that Tarthur and Derlin did not hit each other with their furious attacks, many battles in Krendon had taught them to fight well together. It had also taught them something else. Once you start to attack, you don’t stop. The only way to stop the wild attack was if one or the other combatants became unconscious, or if someone, particularly an adult, stopped the fighting.

  So it was that Tarthur and Derlin were chasing after the goblins, ready to pummel them once more. At this point, however, the captain of the goblin troop was astute enough to remember that the members of his group had weapons, and were therefore at an advantage. Summarily, he turned his troop around with one course command in his guttural language as the goblins drew their short swords. This caused Tarthur and Derlin to stop immediately, for although this was not one of the two acceptable reasons for ceasing to beat your enemy, it was certainly a good reason to run away. The two turned back in the direction of Yan, and began to hurry toward him, all the while calling ahead for him to run.

  While Tarthur and Derlin were good at fighting, they were also very good at running away. They had been in enough misunderstandings caused by their liberal interpretations of morals and rules to know how to run away when it needed to be done. Yan, whether motivated by this knowledge and experience, or just sheer terror, was also doing quite well. The companions were aided by the shortness of the goblins’ legs, which made them take many more steps to cover the same distance.

  Soon, however, the goblins began to catch up with them. They were more surefooted and accustomed to the dark and damp surface. Tarthur, who was by this time half carrying Yan, looked up as the old man pointed. He was pointing to a hole in the wall that was leading out from the main tunnel. It was smaller and looked as if only one person, if any, could fit through at a time. If they could make it there, they would have a more reasonable chance of safety.

  As the heroes finally approached the tunnel, the goblins caught up to them. One swung his blade in a blatant attempt to decapitate Derlin. Derlin ducked just in time, reached into the goblin’s belt, and pulled out his dagger. This he immediately plunged into the creature’s heart, before it could swing its sword back around. Derlin grabbed the sword from the staggering creature, and turned to face the next one, who was surprised to now be facing an armed foe rather than an unarmed one. Derlin didn’t need to think twice about this advantage, he quickly dispatched the creature.

  He tossed the sword in his hand to Tarthur, who formed a protective shield around Derlin, who was taking the dead goblin’s weapons, and Yan, who was frantically looking for a way out. The death of their companions had made these monsters wary, and now Tarthur had a much more difficult time dealing with them. One, dressed differently than the rest and seeming to have some authority, was issuing a strange call from a bugle-like instrument. Tarthur listened with horror; it seemed to him as if the call was the call of death itself. As he was parrying a well-aimed blow from his assailant, Tarthur felt a dagger whiz by his head, and even take off a lock of his now shoulder-length hair. Tarthur whirled to look for another attacker behind him, but all he saw was a big smile on Derlin’s face.

  “I couldn’t resist,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, we can’t have them bringing reinforcements.” Tarthur turned once more to see the leader with the hideous instrument fall to the ground, one of his own men’s daggers embedded in his neck. This gave Tarthur great hope, since there were only half a dozen or so monsters left. It also appeared as if the call for help had been in vain.

  Fighting side by side now, Tarthur and Derlin were able to have the better of the fight. The narrowness of the tunnels allowed only two people to be standing side by side at any rate, so the superior numbers of the enemy didn’t hamper them. Also, being taller, they were allowed unobstructed opportunities to rain down blows on their opponents’ heads. Within a few minutes, however, the boys began to tire, and it soon became apparent that either the call for reinforcements had been heard, or their clamor in the first encounter had been noticed. In any event, new goblins and other monsters, even a few men, were beginning to appear at the end of the tunnel. This new force was also better equipped; they had spears and other long thrusting weapons. The boys looked into each other’s eyes while both were blocking a pair of spears. The message was simple and stunningly clear. They knew it was only a matter of a few minutes before this crypt indeed became their burial place. The only thing working for them was that as of yet the monsters had only come at them from one side of the tunnel, and so they only had to fight in one direction. It would be all over if the monsters snuck up on them f
rom the back as well.

  Yan called out to Derlin, who immediately hurried over, leaving Tarthur to defend their position solo. Yan pointed to a crevasse in the wall that led to another chamber and another tunnel. Yan had been digging at it vigorously until his fingers were raw and bleeding, but he had succeeded in making it just wide enough for them to fit through. Derlin squeezed Yan through, nearly breaking the fragile old man.

  By this time, Tarthur had noticed this plan for escape, and was intensely trying to concentrate and find a way to buy enough time to get through. He yelled for Derlin to get through first, so he would be able to pull Tarthur through quickly. Derlin immediately saw the sense of this plan and he started to go through the crevasse. With only Yan, who had been much weakened by the ordeal, and who wouldn’t have been too much help even if he was in prime physical condition, to pull on him, Derlin found it a long and difficult struggle.

  While Derlin was so occupied, Tarthur began to pile up the bodies of the slain goblins to use as a rampart. He was exhausted as he finished the wall, which nearly reached up to the short ceiling. The creatures on the other side furiously hacked apart their friends’ bodies, in an effort to escape a similar fate, which would certainly await them if the Dark Lady found out that her prisoners had escaped. In their fury, many times the goblins accidentally mistook a live body for a dead one, adding another corpse to the pile.

  The wall of death held out well enough, however. As the first ones were making their way through, Tarthur noticed with satisfaction that Derlin was on the other side of the hole. The boy immediately followed. Tarthur stuck his arm through the crevasse and was reassured when he felt his friend’s arm grasp his own.

  “Pull!” The muffled shout came from the other side. Tarthur felt a searing pain in his right arm, and then everything went black.

  * * *

  Derlin, on the other hand, was both worried and relieved when he pulled his friend through. He was worried because he had almost pulled Tarthur’s arm off, yet relieved because he now saw that the pursuing goblins were too fat to come through the hole. Tarthur was unconscious.

  Still, there was no time for rest just yet for the weary trio. Carrying Tarthur between them, the three tried to move as fast as they could, which certainly was not very fast, down the tunnel and away from the nightmares that were behind them.

  When they had gone nearly a hundred meters down the tunnel, Derlin turned, and he saw the torch light glint off what must be a goblin sword. Derlin realized that they were trying to use the swords to pry open the narrow fissure. All of a sudden, Derlin heard a loud rumbling, and felt the walls begin to shake. In trying to widen the slot, the goblins had moved boulders that had for countless centuries stood as the only support for the ceiling. Too late, the overzealous captain realized this, but as he ordered his men to turn around, their world came crashing down upon them. Derlin continued to look as the screams of agony echoed throughout the catacombs. Derlin now knew that there was a great possibility of escape. Their pursuers effectively sealed behind a wall of granite, Derlin and Yan slumped down to rest.

  When he awoke, Derlin immediately cursed himself for sleeping so long, but was somewhat relieved to see that Tarthur was at least the first part of alive and well, and moving about in a vain effort to combat the soreness in his limbs.

  “Hello, Derlin,” Yan greeted. “While you were asleep I had to pop Tarthur’s shoulder back into place. It seems that you dislocated it when you pulled on it.” “Yes, Derlin,” Tarthur added. “Do you remember what happened to Morty quite accidentally two summers ago?”

  Derlin stroked his chin, as if he was lost in thought, trying vainly to remember. And then he did. And he started to laugh, for two summers ago Morty had begun riding lessons. The great majority of people in Krendon certainly did not have their own horses, but of course the Baron Ercrilla had four and Tarthur and Derlin had none. So it was that one day, by pure coincidence the jealous Tarthur had wandered over by the stables and when no one was paying particularly close attention, helped the strap on the bottom of Morty’s horse untie itself. That day, merely by chance, Tarthur, Derlin, and Girn had happened to be there when Morty rode by to insult them, saying that if they liked to see a gentleman ride why didn’t they come more often, to which Tarthur replied the absolute truth that they were just passing through on their way to do more chores and support their town. As Morty rode off, the saddle (which was probably of inferior quality in the first place) fell off, and Morty was left to be dragged off by the horse. This wasn’t helped when some anonymous person, who Morty claimed was Tarthur, had slapped the horse on the rear. Although, Morty was under strain and couldn’t have been thinking clearly. If Tarthur ever found the real culprit, he would make sure he was punished heavily. In the impact, Morty had had his shoulder dislocated. The best physician in Krendon, who happened to be a barber most of the time, promptly fixed his arm. The boys had laughed so hard as they were running away that they fell down, but luckily there were no witnesses and the baron just scolded his son for riding without checking his equipment first. At times when Derlin was melancholy and sad, all he had to do was to remember this incident and he would soon burst out laughing.

  Now was the time for many things, however, laughing was not one of them. So the ragtag band of companions once again started their journey through the catacombs. They journeyed down what seemed like endless tunnels, always being careful to deposit a scrap of their clothes whenever they made a turn. In this manner they saved themselves from becoming endlessly lost, and they were able to make progress rather rapidly.

  They soon came upon a supply tunnel. As Derlin thought about it, Marhyn would want to have several portals to the outside so that gold could be sent out and supplies could be sent in without having to travel for hours from the main part of her fortress. The companions looked left and right, and they didn’t see any goblins. Derlin could see the fading light of evening to his right, and they rushed forward to the light.

  A locked grate was blocking their path.

  Derlin shook his head. They were so close!

  Tarthur stooped to examine it. The lock was not well made, and he called out for Derlin to find some long, thin rocks. It took longer than Derlin would have liked, but Tarthur was eventually able to pick the lock. Derlin guessed that this was preferable to breaking the grate or the rock around it, since they would leave no obvious clues for Marhyn to know where they had exited. For all she knew, they had died with the Goblins when the wall collapsed.

  Soon Derlin was once again breathing fresh air, the same air that he had so recently wondered if he would ever breathe again. Derlin spied a small ledge that they could hide under. It wasn’t great cover, but it would at least conceal them during the night if anyone didn’t look too close. He motioned to the companions and they took his meaning immediately. Derlin consumed the last of his moldy bread, and sank into the best sleep of his young life.

  A CITY REJOICES

  Addyean didn’t have much chance for the prophecy to bother him, with all of the rejoicing over the king’s good health. In the recent days there had been many parties, especially since the commotion had occurred just two days before King Garkin’s 37th birthday. King Garkin was a wise ruler, and he knew that people who work all year long are depressed and moody. So it was that thirteen years prior he had proclaimed that every year, the day of the king’s birth was to be celebrated with partying and feasting. The common people adored him all the more for this magnanimous act, and the rich merchants didn’t mind either, because the huge quantities of food and other supplies that must be bought for a party were all exempted from tax on that day. In this way the king lost a little revenue and gained something many times more valuable, the admiration of his people.

  As Addyean strolled through the brightly decorated palace hall, his thoughts again turned to Warren. Addyean knew that he should give the king’s counselor a chance. Still, something did not seem right. Addyean had not learned anything new about Warren when he
had gone to Treshin. It seemed that if Warren were evil he certainly would have. After all, what an experience that had been! He still almost couldn’t believe it himself, and if he told people what had happened, he was sure they wouldn’t believe him either. Addyean weighed his decision again in his mind. He wondered if his resolution to ask King Garkin to exclude Warren from their secret counsels was right. On the one hand, with a good possibility of war, Addyean could not let personal troubles stand in the way of their command. Since he had risen in such a short time to be the Royal Counselor, he probably could offer good advice. But, suppose Warren was not there to help the kingdom? What then? The potential risks of having Warren far outweighed the potential gains. So he decided to use his refined observation skills on the blond pest and see if he could come up with anything incriminating.

  Addyean started wondering about the boys. Addyean had been so caught up in all of the things that had been happening that he had quite forgotten about them. Zelin didn’t explain why Tarthur had used the Water Orb, and Addyean had not asked. Maybe Zelin didn’t know. Addyean wondered where the boys were now. They were probably safe and sound with the merfolk, he thought, or maybe they were on their way to Tealsburg. This thought made Addyean feel better, for while the court parties were fun in a way, Addyean was bored and longed to be outdoors, or at least doing something else, anything else, than being hailed as the hero he knew he wasn’t. He was sure that if Tarthur were around, there would be some lively tricks played. Years of being a spy and sharpening his senses caused Addyean to turn as he felt the life-force of the figure behind him.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” Sir Terin said politely. “Are you on your way to the council meeting?”