The Dark Path

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The Dark Path Page 18

by James M. Bowers


  "Well done," he said. He poured Duncan another glass of tea and handed it over. Duncan nodded in thanks and took it. He sipped at it slowly.

  "Where is Kemersek?" Duncan asked. It hurt to breathe, but he tried to ignore the pain. He had been through worse.

  "You are looking at him."

  "Why did I have to go through all that?"

  "Well you see, most people that are looking for me wish only to do me harm. My clansmen here try to keep me safe, though I imagine Holdvir won't be happy when he wakes up."

  "Well if you are Kemersek, then I have a package for you." Duncan reached back into his pack and withdrew a small leather bound package. He handed it over to the black haired minotaur.

  "Who sent it?" he asked as he looked the package over.

  "A man in Norsehiem. I was on his ship for a while and when I left he asked me to take this to you."

  "What's his name?"

  "Captain Cregnard."

  "He's still alive?" The minotaur laughed at that. "I had thought him long dead by now."

  "Will you please open it? My instructions were to wait till you had opened it, then I could go on about my business."

  "How long have you been looking for me?" Kemersek asked looking up at Duncan.

  "About three months. You are hard to find." Duncan sipped again at his tea.

  "Hope it wasn't food in here then!" Kemersek said with a laugh. He untied the leather binding the package and slowly unwrapped it. Inside was a folded letter and an item wrapped in a piece of purple silk. Kemersek took out the letter and read it slowly. Then he refolded it and picked up the item in silk. He unwrapped it carefully. Inside the silk was a ruby the size of his fist. He held it up to the firelight and looked at it. It was beautiful. The stone was a deep red and polished into a perfect sphere.

  "Well I'll be leaving then. Thank you again for the tea." He got up slowly and tested his knee. It seemed to have healed up fine and he placed the rest of his weight upon it. He took a deep breath and his ribs hurt him only slightly. Seemed the tattoos still functioned. He methodically put on the many layers of clothes that kept him a bit warm out in the blizzard.

  "Wait a moment. Did you know what was in this package?" Kemersek asked.

  "Yes, I was with the Captain when he put it together. Now if there isn't anything more, I must be going before the sun goes down. It's a long way back to shore."

  "You knew you carried this jewel and you didn't just steal it and run off? Why would you do such a thing?"

  "I said I would deliver the package to you and I did." Duncan shrugged. "Is that so very hard to understand?" Kemersek stared hard at this strange man, then seemed to make up his mind about something.

  "Stay the night here. We leave tomorrow morning to head south. We'll travel with you. You need to let that leg heal anyway."

  "I'm not sure I would be welcome to come with you." Duncan looked down at the minotaur that still lay unconscious on the floor. "Someone should set his elbow back in place before he wakes up or he'll never be able to use his arm correctly again. Oh and my leg is healed already." He hopped up and down on the leg a few times to demonstrate that it was indeed fine.

  "Don't worry about him. I'll talk to him when he wakes up, he won't give you any trouble."

  "Thank you for your hospitality," Duncan said after a long pause as he thought it over. He walked over to the wall and unrolled his bedding off of his pack and laid down. He piled his leather wrapping over him for warmth. He had just about fallen asleep when a sickening sound woke him up. He looked over and saw the brown and white minotaur holding Holdvir's arm. He had pulled it back into place. Duncan closed his eyes again and faded off to sleep. His dreams were nightmares of the past as they always were.

  XXIII

  Darkness Rising

  "My Lord," a strange looking creature said as it went to one knee before a throne carved out of hematite.

  "What is it?" a hollow voice answered out of the shadows behind the throne.

  "He has learned of the theft of the body, My Lord."

  "Bring Jarared to me."

  "Yes My Lord." The figure rose. Green fire lit as it left, shining off the ebony skin of the jackal headed creature as it walked down the great stairs and down the hall.

  "It begins." The dark shape behind the throne laughed as it walked around the throne and sat down. Green light played upon the skeletal face of the black robed creature. He sat down and waited for his follower to arrive. A long moment later, the great doors at the end of the hall opened and the jackal walked back in the room. He held a chain in his hands and pulled it sharply as he entered. The other end of the chain was attached to a collar around the neck of the person he led. The person on the leash looked barely alive. His features were elven but his skin was ebony black. One eye glowed a dull red, the other was swollen shut. He wore black robes with blue flames sewn on the bottom and sleeves. They now hung off him in shreds. He drug his feet slowly up the stairs but he held his head high. When they reached the top of the stairs, the jackal kicked the back of his knees and forced the dark elf to kneel. He then stood off to the side though his hand didn't let go of the chain.

  "I've passed your tests, Master" Jarared said. His voice was no more than a whisper.

  "You have," the Dark Lord consented.

  "May I kill him now, Master?" Jarared asked. His red eye gleamed with a dark hatred.

  "You have two days. Wait for him in the temple of Invictus on the isle off the coast of D'Nhia. Fail in this and your life is forfeit." He waved a skeletal hand in dismissal.

  "Let's go," the jackal said and pulled on the chain.

  "I can walk on my own," Jarared whispered. "Let go of the chain."

  "How dare you order me!" The Jackal took a whip out of his belt and lashed the dark elf across the face. The lash mark opened a wound across the elf's face running from his right cheek below his swollen eye to his left jaw line. The elf didn't even flinch. He grabbed the chain that was hooked to his neck and began chanting. A green fire lept from his hands and traveled lightning fast down the chain to envelope the jackal. The jackal flung back his head and laughed. "Quite the feisty one. Fine you don't need the chain." He snapped his fingers and the chain melted away. The collar melted and formed a small platinum necklace around the elf's neck. It was still hot and burned into his flesh a bit. Once again, the elf didn't flinch. The necklace held a pendant at the end of it. The pendant was hematite in the shape of a skull. The jackal nodded to the dark elf and walked calmly from the chamber, green flames still covering his body.

  "Now you have passed the tests," the Dark Lord said in his hollow whisper. "I have a gift for you to take on your journey. He motioned to a large chest that appeared at his left. Jarared walked over and opened up the chest. It was an ornate black chest covered in carvings of arcane symbols. Inside, it was lined in purple velvet. A beautifully designed rapier in a sheath lay on top. Jarared took the blade out and drew it from the scabbard. The blade was colored an odd green that was slightly glowing. Symbols of magic ran down its length. He tried to read them but they were like nothing he had seen before. He made a few practice swings through the air with it. The blade was perfectly balanced and weighed next to nothing. He placed it back in the sheath and clipped it to his belt. Under the sword in the chest was a new set of robes. They were made of a heavy material that was soft to the touch. He pulled them out and nodded when he saw that the black robes were trimmed with silver flames. They were robes showing the highest rank of those that served The Dark Lord. Jarared folded them back up and turning toward his god he bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor. Then he turned and walked swiftly out of the hall. When the doors slammed shut behind him, the hall filled with an eerie laughter.

  XXIV

  Journey

  Pain flowed like a molten river of iron through all the veins in his body. He could no longer see with his eyes. They had long since melted down his cheeks. Still, he held onto and focused the dark power that welled out
from deep within him. His lungs burned for air and he couldn't remember when he had last taken breath. He pushed those thoughts aside and tried once more to ignore the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel nothing but pain. His ears were filled with a roaring that had gone way past bearable. Still, he pushed the force ahead of him. He knew he still walked forward but how he knew, he could not say. Beings made out of the absence of light flowed all around him. He kept slaying them with the dark force within him, but for every hundred he ripped apart a thousand more seemed to take their place. Still, he walked on. It seemed that days had passed. Finally, ahead the shapes parted as if swept aside by a strong wind. There in front of him lay a figure upon a stone dais. He instantly stopped pushing the force out of him and wrapped it around him in a shield that he knew would not last very long against the shapes should they attack him again. The pain in his being ebbed away a bit. He walked forward, using his magical sight to guide him through the blindness toward the figure ahead. He knelt beside the figure and reached out a hand that was burnt almost to the bone. He brought up his claw-like fingers and caressed the cheek of the figure, a young woman, with flowing red-brown hair. Tears would have flowed down his cheeks had he still eyes. The figure reached up a hand and he felt a soft touch on his cheek.

  "Why do you try so hard to find me?" a soft, almost musical, voice entered his mind.

  "I love you. I promised to keep you safe and I failed. I will not rest until you are back and safe, even if it kills me," he responded, though how his words were understood he knew not, for his lips had been burned off it seemed days ago.

  "It will kill you. I still love you, but to see you hurt yourself so, I cannot stand it." The figure turned quickly to one side. "He's coming! You must go. He'll destroy you."

  "No. I will not leave you!" His burnt hands clasped hers tightly.

  "You cannot face him. You know that. Maybe someday, but you are too weak now. Go, quickly, and remember that I will always love you." She pulled her hands from his, then turned and escaped down the long hall away from him. As she left the room the dark shapes instantly attacked him and his shield failed within seconds. He felt cold, lifeless hands rip into his flesh and his screams burst forth anew. Blackness washed over him.

  He opened his eyes to find himself sitting up in bed, a horrible scream coming from somewhere. It took him a few seconds to realize the screams were coming from him. He stopped himself and took a deep breath. How long had it taken him to get to her this time? A few hours had passed it seemed. The Schola's dormitory was dark and no candles glowed in the halls, though the sky outside had begun to lighten slightly. Gen swung his legs out over the side of the bed and walked to the water pitcher. He poured himself a glass and gulped it down quickly. Then he looked at the cup and frowned. Why was he thirsty? He looked down at a silver ring upon his right index finger. It was tarnished a deep black and looked about to break into pieces. He grumbled and pulled the worthless ring off and threw it into a dark corner in the small room. His stomach rumbled at him and he sighed. How long had it been since he had last needed to eat? Years it seemed. He opened the iron bound door to the small room and walked out into the hall. He walked slowly down the hall and turned to the right when the hall divided at the end. His mind returned to the sight of Meeka running from him. He arrived at the double doors of the mess hall a moment later. He opened the door on his left and entered a large room. Old wooden beams sat exposed above him. They were always polished to a shine. A warm fire roared at one end of the room though its heat wasn't much needed. He walked past the eight long tables that filled the center of the room and opened the small door at the back leading to the kitchen. A small girl of around six years of age sat peeling potatoes in a battered wooden chair beside the door. She wore tattered peach robes that were stained in various spots. She didn't look up when the door opened.

  "Hello?" he called toward the back of the kitchen.

  "Nothing's ready yet. Come back at morning meal," a voice came from the back of the kitchen near where the big stone ovens were. The child looked up from peeling and her eyes went wide. She got up and ran back in the direction that the voice had come from and Gen could hear a whisper.

  "Is that so? Well I don't care if its the master of light himself, I'm busy here and he can eat when everyone else does." The voice, not even near a whisper, reached him easily. Gen smiled a bit and walked back to the stoves. A woman stood there putting dough on sheets that went into the oven. The baking bread smelled good, and his stomach rumbled again loud enough that the cook heard it. She turned around and Gen felt a tug at his heart. She had red-brown hair and fair skin. Freckles covered her cheeks and went across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were a deep brown. After first glance, Gen could see that she didn't really look like Meeka. She was attractive, but he knew his heart had responded to her hair color and the thought of Meeka more than to her. She blushed slightly and Gen realized he had been standing there quietly staring at the cook. He smiled a bit and bowed deeply, with all the courtly etiquette he had picked up in his journeys.

  "My most lovely, and brilliant cook, I beg you humbly. Do you have some small amount of food that a poor, rude man such as myself may partake of? I have not eaten for years and I find that my stomach protests such ill treatment." He finally straightened from the deep bow and met her deep brown eyes with his ice blue ones. She laughed a bit and then turned to a basket and withdrew a loaf of freshly baked bread. She handed it to him. Gen took the bread and bowed low once more. "You are most gracious and wise. I thank you and my stomach thanks you. May your days be filled with joy and your friends always true." When he straightened from his bow, he winked at the red-haired cook and dropped the courtly manners as he ripped a big bite off the loaf of bread. The loaf, about the size of his forearm, was gone quickly and he looked around for a drink.

  "I suppose you want something to drink as well? You men! All you do is take!" she exclaimed in jest. She then turned to the young girl. "Go and get this young beggar something to drink." The little girl ran off and nearly knocked over a stack of dishes in her haste.

  "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," the cook asked as she went back to putting dough on the sheets and the sheets into the oven.

  "Gen Hothman. It's a pleasure to meet you." He bowed again, though this time only slightly and with respect. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

  "Mina," she responded and extended a hand covered in flour. Gen took her hand and kissed the top of it, ignoring the flour. She blushed deeply this time and quickly retrieved her hand.

  "I haven't seen you here before, yet you wear the robes of a mage. Where are you from?" she asked as she waved toward a chair set back a bit from the stove. "Sit down."

  "I'm from everywhere it seems." He chuckled. "I left this Schola seven years ago on a quest of sorts." He sat down in the offered chair and the small girl returned carrying a bottle and an old earthenware cup. She handed them to him and he nodded his thanks before she went back to peeling the potatoes. He uncorked the bottle and the faint smell of cranberries wafted up from it. He poured the dark red liquid into the cup and placed the cork back in the bottle. He took a small sip. It was bitter but good.

  "So why are you in my kitchen so early? You could have waited to eat with everyone else. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy the company. The gods know that no one else comes to visit." She laughed a bit.

  "I wasn't joking when I said I hadn't eaten for years. I acquired a ring a few years ago that gave me all the nourishment my body needed. It....stopped working this morning, and I found that my stomach was more than just empty." He laughed. "I had forgotten that food and drink could be enjoyable. The bread was very good."

  "This is all just so new to me." She shook her head a bit and mumbled about rings and not having to eat. "I came here about six years ago after I had Alisha there." She waved to the small child. "Her father left much to be desired and the last time he hit me, I just responded with something. It flew out of
me, this darkness, and he began to choke to death. The darkness stopped just before he passed out though and he ran out of the house screaming “witch”. I gathered Alisha and ran. Later, I found out about this place and came here. They have shown me what gifts I have and it seems my daughter has as well. Enough about me though. Tell me about this quest of yours."

  "I would rather not talk about it." He looked at her cream colored robes. Had he even worn that color? He shook his head. "So what is on the menu for breakfast?"

  "Well most mornings it's eggs, bacon and biscuits. Today though, I made some noodles and soup. I like to shake em up a bit every now and then." She winked.

  "Sounds good. I look forward to it. Thank you again for the bread and the juice." He stood up. May I take the bottle with me?"

  "You don't have to leave so soon. I can always use some help around here. The Headmaster keeps telling me he'll send someone else to help but he never does. Go ahead and take the bottle. There's plenty more. Whole cellar is full of bottles. Gods know how long they been there."

  "What can I do to help out before I go? I feel a bit guilty eating for free." Gen grinned.

  "You could clean up here a bit. If you really feel the need to do something, there's always dishes that need done." She laughed a bit. "You don't have to do anything though. It was payment enough to have someone to talk to." She looked down a bit. "The people in my classes are all children. Sometimes I feel some of the other students laugh at me, but this stuff isn't easy. That's why I told the master I would work in the kitchen when the last cook left. It keeps me away from most of the people and keeps me busy enough not to think too much," she shrugged, then laughed. "You must be easy to talk to. I have no idea why I'm telling you all this. I doubt you want to hear it." Her eyes didn't meet his.

 

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