“What did you mean by preparing your boats?” asked Hemlock.
“We would like to leave before you enter the cave for fear that you will anger the spirit and your battle will spill out into the Vale. We will plan to leave tomorrow in our longships. Though there is no water, we will sail above the ground.”
“All right. I guess that will work. We will send some wizards with you to ensure that the Tanna Varrans keep their word to give you safe passage. The Tanna Varrans will escort you across their land. But know that their land is haunted by restless spirits. They are dangerous at night. Will you be able to protect yourselves?”
Cassandra smiled. “What better protection can there be than setting these spirits to rest in contentment?”
“Fine. It’s decided then.”
Once the meeting was over, Hemlock, Tored, Renevos and Otticus hiked across the Vale to get a glimpse of the cave that they planned to enter the following morning.
“It looks unassuming enough,” observed Renevos as he stood at the mouth of the cave.
“Wait, I see tracks,” said Tored. “I think I recognize them. They look like Oruk tracks.”
“What is an Oruk?” asked Hemlock.
“Oruk are large, wiry brutes with shriveled skin that is as tough as brittle stone. They live underground, keep to themselves and are very rare.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like anything to worry about,” said Hemlock.
“I’d normally agree, but it’s extremely unusual to see them near the surface,” said Tored.
“So what does it mean?” asked Otticus.
“Maybe nothing. But it is unusual. Even more so because there are multiple tracks here. It looks like it’s a group that passed here recently. Oruk are usually solitary and very territorial. This troubles me. Oruk are fearsome foes when roused.”
The group returned to camp in an uncertain mood.
Tored stopped them just as they approached the fire, where the smell of roast mutton wafted from spits over the fire.
“If these Oruk are travelling together, then there is a good chance they may be different here than outside the vale. We had best be prepared in case they are hostile,” he said.
Tored then looked at his spear and Hemlock’s sabres. “These weapons are a poor choice for fighting Oruk. And the enchantments they bear against spirits would be useless.” He pointed to the broadsword that Otticus carried. “That would seem to be a better choice for this expedition. Otticus, do your wizards have any heavy weapons they can spare?”
Otticus looked reflective for a moment. “Let me check. It may help our cause if I could offer your weapons in exchange. We don’t carry many spares.”
“I’ll also ask Acron Gallus. He has an interest in the success of our mission,” said Hemlock.
“A good idea,” said Tored, “His men will carry a few war axes for just such an encounter. See if he will give them up.”
Acron Gallus grudgingly gave Hemlock one of the heavy war axes his party had with them, and Otticus returned with a broad sword and a longer sword.
It was agreed that Tored would take the war axe, and Hemlock took the long sword, though it felt somewhat unwieldy to her since she had fought exclusively with the much lighter sabres. Renevos was given the final broad sword, though he seemed disinclined to use it.
Hemlock found a few old tree stumps in the clearing and used them as makeshift practice dummies. The ponderously heavy sword impaired her speed and she soon became frustrated.
I must learn to control these bursts of strength I get.
She thought that maybe the strength was triggered by anger, so she tried to channel the anger she felt about her poor form with the heavy blade, but it didn’t seem to help. And she unwillingly began to think of the vision of the black dragon again, which disturbed her.
She calmed herself and then considered the moments when she had experienced the surges of strength and speed. It had happened when she had dueled with the leaders of the Badger Guild. It had happened again when she had fought the first witch. And it had happened again recently when she had thrown the heavy iron grate.
Those were all frantic situations with real danger. Maybe I can’t do this at will. But I need to try!
She steadied herself and focused on the importance of getting familiar with the long sword. She thought about her quest to recover the Wand, and the evil magic she was convinced it emanated. As she concentrated, her body began to tingle. She had the odd and unmistakable sensation that she was drawing from a hidden reservoir of power as a thrill of energy ran up and down her body.
She took her second hand off the long sword and hefted it easily with one hand. She spun and struck the nearby tree. The blade bit deeply into the wood. She yanked it out easily, sending splinters into the air as the blade withdrew. Next she leapt six feet into the air, grasped the sword hilt with both of her hands, lifted it over her head, and struck down on the tree trunk as she descended. Her blade split the wood from the top all the way down to the ground, and one side of the trunk fell with a sound of splintering wood and a heavy thud.
“Wow,” said Otticus, who had been watching at a distance. “I’m glad I’m on her side.”
“Aye,” nodded Renevos.
Tored grunted and nodded.
Hemlock’s cheeks colored. She hadn’t meant to put on a show. Most people in the camp had seen what she had done. She noticed Acron Gallus turning away and muttering to the other Tanna Varrans.
She sheathed the long sword in the scabbard she now wore on her back, and walked toward the vale.
Dusk was giving way to evening as she descended along the path, leaving the camp behind her. She feared that she might see Faruk on the path, but as she rounded the bend where he had been waiting for her in the night, he wasn’t there. She was relieved, although her body still yearned for him.
She remembered when he had asked her whether there was another person in her life.
Why did I say yes? Falignus could be dead. She immediately realized that she didn’t believe that at all. She had a strong feeling that he was still alive.
As she considered the ramifications of that realization, she became aware of drumming and music coming from the vale.
She continued to descend and was surprised to see none of the bathing pools were occupied, and all of the graceful boats were moored at the shore. She didn’t see a single soul, but soon high-spirited voices could be heard, interspersed with the melodious tunes that emanated from somewhere in the vale.
Hemlock reached the floor of the vale. A vast celebration was taking place about one hundred yards to her right, along the side of the rocky cliff that rose from the mountains. A ring of tall, elegant poles topped with lanterns enclosed the revelers. Weaves of bright flowers were hung between each of the lantern poles. The flowers seemed to shimmer, and Hemlock sensed indulgent magical energy emanating from them.
Within the flowery perimeter, two rings of revelers danced, with bottles in hand, around Cassandra and Faruk, who stood with their arms raised. As the latter two stood, the same faint shimmering glow seemed to surround them.
Outside of the ring of dancers, pairs and groups of people were coupling with an intensity and wild abandon that shocked Hemlock. Their passions seemed to ebb and flow with the melody that surrounded them, and the glow around Cassandra and Faruk seemed to vary accordingly.
Hemlock felt a sudden passion, and she looked at the perfect form of Faruk as he danced and shouted with joy. She had never felt such an intense need for a physical release as she did now. But the experience of this heretofore private sensation in the proximity of so many other people made her very uncomfortable.
She returned to the nearby path and climbed back toward the camp. She was relieved when the drum beats and music faded from hearing.
What did I just see?
Cassandra had mentioned something about a festival to gather energy for the journey to the City, but Hemlock hadn’t realized that it would be anything like wha
t she had witnessed.
She knew that public behavior like that would be frowned upon in the City.
I’ll have to speak to Cassandra in the morning.
As she neared the camp, she heard footsteps in front of her. Next she saw Otticus come around the bend in the path, walking down toward the vale.
“Go back to camp, Otticus,” she said.
“I’m just restless. I thought I’d go swim down there,” he replied.
“Not tonight. Go back to camp.”
The young wizard looked crestfallen, but he obeyed Hemlock.
I wonder if he had some idea what he’d be getting into down there. Maybe I should have let him. But we need him for the mission. Can’t risk him losing focus.
…
At dawn the next morning, the group rose and descended into the vale again.
The revelers were already boarded onto the two largest boats. Cassandra and Faruk stood at the foot of the path, waiting.
The wizards went toward the boats under the direction of Renevos. Only he and Otticus remained with Hemlock and Tored. Acron Gallus and the Tanna Varrans waited impatiently.
After pleasantries were exchanged, Hemlock asked Cassandra to step aside with her.
“Listen, I wandered down here last night and I saw your festival,” Hemlock said.
“You did? You should have joined us. I know Faruk is interested in you. Do not take that for granted. The pleasure of his company cannot be underestimated.”
“Uh, it wasn’t really my style, if you understand. Things are different in the City. People don’t engage in that behavior out in the open like that. There are children there, for one.”
“Children! How I’ve missed being around children!” cried Cassandra.
She hugged Hemlock. Hemlock had never smelled anything as beautiful as the subtle bouquet of perfumes that emanated from Cassandra’s hair.
“What I’m saying is that you can’t have festivals like that in the City out of doors. Can you make tents or something?”
“Of course— I understand your concern about discretion. But there is one thing: we need water for our boats, Hemlock."
"You can't survive without water?"
"No."
"Well, you'll have to go to Lake Hemisphere then. You're going to be right at the center of the City. You'll have to be very careful not to cause any kind of stir when you get there. I may not be back for several days. If you cause any disturbance before then, you will either be banished or worse. Do you understand?"
Cassandra smiled warmly. “I understand. Things will be different there. We’ll be sensitive and we’ll adapt. Don’t worry!”
Hemlock was actually starting to worry quite a bit. But I’ll be back to the City soon enough. Maybe even before Cassandra if we’re lucky. Hemlock smiled in return and shook Cassandra’s hands.
They returned to the rest of the group. The escorting wizards were in position in the boats.
“Farewell!” cried Cassandra as she and Faruk each boarded one of the delicate vessels.
A great chorus of song rang out over the vale as Cassandra and Faruk took position at the fore of each boat. Next, they raised their arms. The boats lifted slowly into the air until they were about six feet over the water.
The sails on each boat were hoisted, and the boats sailed forward, toward the path into the mountains. They seemed to be propelled by a breeze that Hemlock and her group couldn’t perceive.
The Tanna Varrans looked discomfited as the boats passed beside them. But they fell in behind the boats and walked warily.
As the boats neared the path, they split into single file and rose into the mountains. Soon they passed from view along with the Tanna Varrans, and finally even the distant singing faded away.
Hemlock looked around the vale. It was still beautiful, but some of its ethereal quality had diminished. Still, she felt more comfortable.
“Well, we might as well get on with it,” she said.
The four who remained walked around the shore of the lake toward the cave.
“I saw something unusual last night,” said Tored.
“What?” said Hemlock, worried that he might have seen the strange festival thrown by the Ishawn witches.
“I woke a few hours before dawn and saw a shimmering light coming from the outside of the camp. I feared some mischief was afoot and made to wake you, but the light disappeared,” said Tored.
“Could you have been dreaming?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. My first thought was that DuLoc was going to appear again, but I think the light was different. The strangest part is I felt hatred emanating from the light in those few moments before it blinked out.”
“Hatred? That’s odd, since outside of dealing with Acron Gallus, I’ve felt mostly peace since we reached this vale.”
“As have I. I can’t explain it, but something about it concerns me. It felt like it was coming for me. I can’t say why. I just had that feeling.”
“Great. Just what we need: another ghost bent on our destruction.”
Tored grunted the way he did when he had nothing more to say. Hemlock let the matter drop, but felt it settle into the back of her mind, joining the many other concerns that had staked their claim there.
Chapter Ten
Merit sat in his chamber, content to do nothing for a while. The confrontation with Jalis was over and he and his friends were safe. Gwineval had told Merit that he had scryed with Hemlock, and that she was nearing the completion of her mission in the Witch Crags. For the first time in recent days, Merit was able to relax.
It didn’t take long for his curiosity about the secret book in his possession to resurface. He wished he could read more quickly, but the voices in his head were a near constant distraction. At least they had been quiet today.
The City has many secrets. Perhaps I’ll yet discover my story in these old, dusty pages.
Julius walked toward the City, choking down the sense of disbelief that still permeated his thoughts concerning its ruined condition.
“I must be very observant now—my life depends on it,” he said to himself.
He was conscious of the contrast between his fine silk robe and golden sword compared to the worn and dirty apparel worn by the people he saw—and he anticipated the effect this contrast would have.
A mob of dirty children was the first to shadow him as he approached a group of hovels at the outskirts of the City. He continued to walk along a dusty road, and soon he attracted the attention of some adults. They paused their labors to watch in disbelief as he strode by looking clean, and bearing a shimmering gold blade.
As he reached the first crude buildings, some elders rose from thatched chairs to get a better look at him. In a matter of minutes, a small throng was following him as he walked toward the center of the City.
Some people approached him and asked questions. He ignored them. He was looking for some sign of organization or power. So far he had seen none.
Then a group of four thugs with heavy iron weapons caught his attention. They were dressed in lush animal skins and their noses and ears were pierced and adorned with bone jewelry. Two of the group left hurriedly while the other two made a poor attempt at falling in with the crowd without being noticed.
Julius approached the two fighters, who, realizing his intent, stood their ground. The crowd parted as Julius stopped before them.
“Who is your lord? I would speak with him,” said Julius.
“You don’t ask to see him—he asks to see you, if it suits him,” responded the larger of the two thugs.
“I am…Julius. I have returned to the City to restore it to glory. Tell your master that I would speak with him.”
Julius spotted a large building nearby, and saw a brightly colored sign hanging out front with a slab of meat and a mug of ale depicted on it.
“I will wait in yonder building for his response,” Julius continued.
The two men shrugged and made
off.
“We’ll see,” commented the larger one over his shoulder.
Julius walked toward the building he had seen, as hunger assailed him for the first time since he had left his desert.
As he neared the building, another small crowd of people had gathered on the covered porch and watched his approach.
Some ruined buildings on the adjacent street caught his attention. They had collapsed, and their rafters and joists had been snapped and broken. Their walls had fallen inward.
Julius became curious. He turned to one of the dirty children and asked him what had happened to the building.
“The demon got it,” said the child.
People began to shout around him, and Julius heard many of their comments:
“She-devil came last night.”
“Four people killed.”
“Nobody knows why.”
“Light Dancers are to blame.”
“Can you kill the demon for us?”
He was intrigued, but did not wish to create more of a spectacle since the crowd around him continued to swell.
He reached the worn steps of the building, and appreciated the aroma of food wafting from the open windows.
He climbed the stairs, excusing himself as he pushed through the crowd on the porch.
He felt people’s hands on him, and had a passing concern for his fine golden robe being handled by so many dirty hands. But when he lifted his arm to see whether it was soiled, it shimmered back just as perfectly as when he had first donned it.
The people around him murmured amongst themselves as he walked through the lobby of the building. He spotted tables where the few who were more hungry than curious were dining.
Julius seated himself and caught the eye of a plump waitress in a tight cotton halter top and food-stained apron. She smiled and approached him, only to be shouldered aside by a middle-aged man wearing an obsequious smile.
“Welcome to the Ale and Rib. I am Portroy, owner and proprietor. How can I help you?” said the Innkeeper.
“Bring me a plate of food, please,” said Julius. Reaching for his desert belt, he realized he had forgotten he had no money. He was about to stand and leave when his hand brushed the pocket of his robe. He felt something hard and heavy there. Reaching inside, he felt six large coins that he was certain had not been there before. He withdrew one from the pocket and placed it on the table. It was polished gold and reflected the rafters above him. But it was the face on the coin that startled Julius. It was a proud face with a wide forehead, generous nose and a prominent jaw line. The eyes were cruel and appraising.
Hemlock And The Dead God's Legacy (Book 2) Page 19