Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga

by Tyson, Mark

  Kyrie spotted something on a nearby wooden table. “Oh and here are the daggers I planned to steal. They will never lose their master if you treat them with respect.” Esperdahl moved with haste, almost knocking the little rogue off his feet. He grabbed the daggers off the table and glared at Kyrie with contempt.

  “I wasn’t going to take them right in front of you,” he said defensively.

  Esperdahl handed both of the daggers to Rennon, who smiled despite himself. The daggers were beautiful, golden-jeweled and carved with strange creatures Rennon had never seen before.

  Kyrie appeared disappointed.

  Esperdahl disappeared behind a canvas draped over a collection of swords and returned a moment later with a breastplate made of blue dragon scales and handed it to Tatrice. “This is the armor and weaponry of a dragon knight who lost his life in the battle for the Sacred Land. Just before his final moment, he asked me to give this armor to one that could wear it with pride. The broodlord seemed quite determined that I swore to do as he asked. He also felt compelled to tell me that the dragon master he was sworn to serve is called Amadace the Blue. He told me that I must see that it is worn again.”

  Sylvalora spoke up. “Excuse me, kind sir, but I have never heard of a woman donning the armor of a dragon knight. Are you certain you honor the broodlord’s wishes correctly?”

  Esperdahl’s face contorted into a malicious scowl. “As clearly and correctly as your own words, good elf maiden.”

  Sylvalora raised an eyebrow, clearly offended.

  “I am no warrior,” Tatrice said, turning up her nose to the armor. “Why not give it to one of the men?” She inspected the breastplate. “This armor is crafted for a man.”

  “I have sworn to give it to someone, and now I have given it to you. It is yours. I have fulfilled my promise. Female or not, it is no longer my concern. Do with it as you wish.”

  Kyrie pulled a long, slender sword from a plain green and blue hilt. Seancey reached for his sword but stopped when he realized Kyrie did not intend to wield the weapon. “The dragon knight’s sword is called a dragon fang by the way, and his shield and armor are made of dragon scales.”

  Esperdahl took the sword from Kyrie and handed it to Tatrice. “This too belongs with the armor.”

  “All right, how is a suit of armor useful to me when I am not to fight in battle alongside men?” Tatrice lamented.

  Enowene exhaled. “It is a gift, dear. Try to think of it as such and not complain.”

  Gondrial wiped his brow and breathed in heavily. “We should prepare for travel. We still need to vacate this village.”

  “Well, thank you for the gifts, Esperdahl, we will be sure to have the clerics and smiths in the Vale of Morgoran look them over when we return,” Enowene said.

  Dorenn caught the sarcasm in her voice although he did not understand her tone.

  Seancey swung his sword. “The craftsmanship is like none I have ever seen.”

  “I am embarrassed that I do not have more gifts to bestow.”

  “What you have given is enough, your grace,” Lady Shey said.

  Esperdahl turned to Tatrice. “I shall begin work on removing the curse at once. Please return, young maiden, and I will have your armor fitted to you if it displeases you so.”

  Tatrice nodded.

  Chapter 10: Revelations

  Dorenn understood why Gondrial had decided not to use the travel spell to get back to the Vale quickly. If the Enforcers had reinforcements in the area, they would be attracted to their whereabouts, and they might not accept the fate of their companions as the truth. Dorenn was not sure he accepted it either. He put his arm around Tatrice’s waist, and she awkwardly moved in closer to him with a clink of her armor. “I wish I could take this breastplate off; it is terribly uncomfortable in the chest area,” she whispered.

  “If Rennon still has a bit of twine I could carry it on my back,” Dorenn offered. Tatrice stopped and lowered her pack.

  “Hold up a moment, Kerad, while Tatrice removes her breastplate,” Dorenn shouted ahead. “Rennon, do you still have some of that twine you were carrying?”

  “Aye,” Rennon answered, removing his pack and rummaging through it. “Ah, here it is.”

  Dorenn took the twine from Rennon and tied it through the arm outlets of the breastplate, after Tatrice had freed herself of it, and swung it over his pack, securing it to his pack straps.

  “Is it too heavy for you?” Tatrice asked.

  “Aye, but I will manage it. The Vale can’t be all that far away.”

  Seancey stepped beside Dorenn. “Here, let me take it. It will not encumber me.”

  Dorenn nodded and swung the armor down from his shoulder, and Seancey easily swung it onto his back.

  “Thank you, Seancey,” Tatrice said.

  Seancey grinned at Tatrice and nodded for Kerad to lead on. Dorenn put his arm around Tatrice, and she snuggled in close. “That’s better,” she said.

  The morning sun was blinding as the party caught first sight of the trees surrounding the Vale of Morgoran in the distance.

  “I think I will sleep for a week,” Rennon said.

  “Aye, as soon as I get some breakfast in my belly I will as well,” Vesperin said.

  Kerad rubbed the back of his neck. “Only another hour or so to the Vale. I think we all deserve a rest and some breakfast. I can almost smell the bacon frying now.”

  “I want to soak in a nice, hot tub before I turn in,” Enowene said. “This robe has collected a fair amount of dust hanging in that dank armory for so long.”

  “How do you suppose this cloth has held up for so long?” Lady Shey wondered aloud as she patted dust off her arm.

  “It was woven from elven silk. It cannot be burned or torn, and time will not wear it down as long as its magic holds,” Enowene answered. “You have worn elven silk before, Shey. I am surprised you do not know this.”

  Lady Shey said nothing.

  As the day wore on and the party came closer to the Vale of Morgoran, Dorenn felt uneasiness begin to well up inside of him, a heaviness of heart, apprehension like a child scolded for something he knew he did but did not want to admit. The large oak trees surrounding the Vale seemed to bend and scowl at him somehow. A cold, chilling breeze began to rustle the branches around him. Tatrice noticed him shiver. “What is it, Dorenn?”

  Dorenn pulled her tighter to his side. “Something is different. Something is wrong,” he whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s the Vale; something does not sit right with it.” He analyzed the trees swaying in the wind. A branch, blown in an abrupt gust of wind, snapped and tumbled to earth before them with a crack. Dark ominous clouds began to roll in, and the wind picked up, growing stronger.

  Kerad pulled his cloak around him. “Hurry now, a storm is blowing in.”

  The party rushed into the clearing where the tower of Morgoran rose above the main stone buildings. Rain began to fall in sheets as they passed the guard towers.

  Seancey motioned to the guards. “Secure the main gate from the storm, men.” The guards pulled the iron gates shut behind the party after they entered and bolted them down. A priest of Loracia met them at the entrance to the main hall and bowed before Kerad. “Thank Loracia you have returned, Brother Kerad. Morgoran has taken ill. Neither prayer nor healing I understand has eased his suffering. He needs your expertise.”

  “You will pardon my haste, dear friends?” Kerad spoke, dropping his pack in the main entrance hall.

  “Of course, Kerad, see to the master,” Enowene replied. Kerad followed the priest up the side stairs to the tower.

  “I will help Brother Kerad if I can,” Vesperin said, excusing himself.

  “Lady Shey, come with me, and we will see if we can be of use,” Enowene said as she deposited her pack where Kerad had laid his. Lady Shey lowered her pack and sighed. Dorenn felt as if Lady Shey actually dreaded to follow Enowene, and as he watched her, he noticed her wrinkle her
nose at Sylvalora before she finally followed Enowene up the stairway. Sylvalora nodded and lagged behind the rest. Dorenn noticed the elf maiden did not seem particularly interested in following Lady Shey or Enowene to aid Morgoran; instead, she meandered out of the hall and out of sight. Dorenn heard Seancey mutter something about the storm just before the ranger excused himself to the courtyard.

  Servants cleared away the rest of the packs and equipment and then led the way to the dining hall. Tatrice and Rennon followed Dorenn and Gondrial to the table at the dining room center. It was a long table constructed of heavy wood with carved, high back chairs. It appeared to be quite old. Dorenn seated himself next to Tatrice, and Gondrial assumed the head of the table. Rennon sat opposite of Dorenn and Tatrice to Gondrial’s left.

  “I hope the cook’s in a good mood,” Gondrial began, “because I am as hungry as an ox.”

  “Me too,” Tatrice said.

  Dorenn shivered as he peered out of the window at the head-end of the dining hall. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Rain poured down, tossed and blown by the wind, which, in turn, howled through the shutters. A servant hurried to the window and pulled the shutters to, fastening them tightly against the storm.

  The cook served brisket sandwiches and ale. Gondrial would have normally turned up his nose at such fair, but Dorenn noticed no protest from the rogue as he ate. Dorenn’s hunger was strong, but he could not seem to stomach the food. He forced himself to eat anyway.

  Seancey entered the dining hall in a rush. “You best finish your meal. Word has it that more Enforcers are on their way.”

  “How could they possibly be sending more men?” Gondrial asked.

  Seancey pondered the question for a moment. “I suppose they were to meet up with their companions here, or perhaps they were to rendezvous and Captain Praf never showed.”

  Gondrial slammed his mug of ale onto the table. “Once we complete our task at hand, Seancey, remind me to raise an army and do away with those annoying Enforcers once and for all.” Seancey smiled and nodded at Gondrial’s jest. “How far away are they?”

  “Difficult to say. A day perhaps, maybe less,” Seancey answered.

  “The rest of you, eat up and gather your things. We will leave as soon as the rain breaks.” Gondrial shook his head, gulped his ale in one breath, and then stomped out of the dining hall. Seancey followed him.

  Dorenn’s head began to swim. He felt dizzy.

  “What is it, Dorenn?” Rennon asked. Tatrice put her hand on Dorenn’s forehead to check for fever.

  “Something is wrong. I know we told Vesperin we would stay, but I have an overwhelming feeling we should leave.”

  “What’s wrong?” Tatrice asked with growing concern.

  “I don’t know. I just know that we need to go.”

  Rennon stood from the table. “That is more like it. I will go to the kitchen and see if I can get us some food for the trip. Brookhaven is not far away. We can be back in a day or two.”

  Dorenn nodded. “Hurry, Rennon, we have to leave fast.”

  “What about Vesperin?” Tatrice asked.

  Dorenn rubbed his temple with his left hand. “He will find his way. I don’t think we will persuade him to come with us.”

  “Dorenn, we can’t just leave him. He is your best friend,” Tatrice pleaded.

  “What would you have me do, Tatrice? He will find his way.” Dorenn stood. “We will have to go on foot. The stable master would be suspicious if we tried to saddle any horses, and he would question us.”

  “We have to take the horses, Dorenn, or we would be caught within a few hours’ time on foot,” Tatrice said. “We need a diversion.” She thought for a moment. “I think I can come up with something. Meet me at the stables as soon as you collect your things.”

  Rennon returned a few moments later with a basket of bread and cheese. “This is all I could find without the cook eyeing me. It will have to do.”

  Dorenn patted him on the back. “It will do. We will be home soon enough.”

  “I will gather my things. You coming, Dorenn?”

  “I will be there in a moment,” Dorenn replied. Rennon acknowledged him and left the dining hall.

  As soon as Tatrice and Rennon left the room, Dorenn removed the black leather pouch containing the stones from Cedar Falls from his belt and loosened the drawstring. He turned it upside down and let the three purple stones fall into his hand. They glowed intently and gave off heat.

  “These stones will aid me in decisions.” Dorenn squeezed them tightly in his fist. He could feel the power of the stone’s energy enter his body. “Am I doing the right thing?” The stones began to burn his hand, but he did not flinch. Instead, he dropped the stones back into the pouch, drew the string tight, and fastened it back on his belt.

  The rain still fell as Dorenn made his way to the stables. Rennon was waiting at the side outer wall. Together they stalked to the side wall of the stables and waited for Tatrice, not sure what she might do. They did not have to wait long. A scream cut the air and a black mare bolted from the stables, followed by the stable master and his hands. Tatrice ran after them and then stopped, searching frantically.

  “Here, Tatrice,” Dorenn said.

  “Come on, there are four saddled horses. If we hurry we can make away with them.”

  Dorenn and Rennon bolted for the stable door, and the three quickly mounted up. They rode out into the courtyard before Dorenn realized the gates were still closed. They were trapped in the Vale. “The gates!” Dorenn shouted. “They will be closed tight.”

  “There has to be a side gate somewhere,” Rennon shouted back. They rounded and headed for the sidewall to the east where only one man guarded the gate they found there. Rennon drew a dagger and thrust it forward. It cut the rope holding the counterweight in check, causing it to fall. The gate shot up on its pulley so fast, it broke off its frame. Rennon was shocked when he looked into his hand and saw that the dagger he had just thrown had returned to him. He sheathed it even though he was uneasy about the magic it possessed. The three rode off into the rain toward the woods. Once under the cover of the trees, the rain lessened, and Dorenn could see much better despite the darkness. He led them to a path that he had seen when they had returned from Signal Hill. They rode hard south on the trail for what seemed to be an hour until they emerged from the woods onto the road. From there they turned back east toward Soldier’s Bluff and Brookhaven.

  The rain subsided, but the road was muddy, causing the horses to tire quickly, so Dorenn slowed them to a canter. He knew Soldier’s Bluff was not far, and he figured he could rest the horses there. Tatrice and Rennon were beginning to show signs of fatigue. They had not recovered from the trek from Signal Hill before they began on the trail to Brookhaven. Dorenn began to wonder if the two would make it to Brookhaven. He, on the other hand, showed no signs of fatigue. Without warning, Dorenn felt essence surge through his body. Unable to control himself, he fell out of his saddle and onto the muddy road. His hair stood on end and his ears were ringing. When he opened his eyes, Gondrial stood above him. “Gondrial!” Dorenn said surprised. “But how did you…”

  Gondrial held up the book with silver runes and pointed to it. “Magic travel spell. Remember?”

  “I thought the use of that would alert the Enforcers, or anyone else, to our whereabouts?”

  “Brilliant, Dorenn, it will, but what choice did you leave me? Get back on your horse. We have to get to Cedar Falls by nightfall.” Dorenn did not move.

  “We are going back to Brookhaven,” Rennon said.

  Gondrial clinched his teeth, pulled Rennon off his horse by the lapels of his cloak, and thrust him to the ground. He pointed his index finger three inches from Rennon’s face. “You are a fool, Rennon. Have you not learned anything? Brookhaven is being watched. If you return, you will not only forfeit your life, but you may very well get Brookhaven destroyed in the process.” Gondrial took the reins of Dorenn’s horse. “Now mount up. Lady Shey and Enowe
ne are meeting us in Cedar Falls. We must travel to Symbor and catch a ship bound for Adracoria, if the Enforcers don’t catch up with us first.”

  Rennon stood, slinging mud back into the puddle while keeping his eyes fixed on Gondrial. He took the reins of his horse and climbed on its back.

  Dorenn strengthened his resolve. “No, we have to go back and let Brookhaven know what has happened to us.”

  Gondrial rolled his eyes and reached out with his hand to Dorenn. “We don’t have time for this nonsense anymore. Why do you think Morgoran sent Trendan back to Brookhaven? The village will go on without you.”

  “Excuse me?” Tatrice interjected. “Why is it so important that we go with you? We are no one special.”

  Gondrial’s frustration reached a new high. His cheeks became red with anger. “You wish to go back to Brookhaven despite what you have seen thus far? Then go, but know this, once you go back neither me nor any other wielder can help you once you do. You will be on your own when the Dramyds attack and when the armies of Abaddonia and Scarovia come. If you come with me now there may still be a chance to save your village.”

  “What is going on here?” Rennon asked confused.

  “Come with me to the house of Ianthill and there you may find your answers,” Gondrial said.

  Dorenn looked at Rennon, Rennon looked back at Dorenn, and then they both looked at Gondrial. “No, we must return home,” Dorenn said. Rennon agreed.

  “Oh, for the love of Loracia,” Gondrial said, and with a wave of his hand he put them all to sleep.

  When Dorenn awoke, he was lying over his saddle face down with his hands tied. He heard voices. Enowene and Lady Shey were talking.

  “Dorenn is awake,” he heard Enowene say.

  “Where are we?” Dorenn said, trying to right himself.

  Gondrial rode next to him. “About half a day’s journey out of Cedar Falls. I have managed to keep you asleep most of the way.”