“I’ll apologize later. Now, when we get up there you are going to stand in the middle of the platform on the mark laid out on the floor as the apex. You will begin and maintain the Plesieantic Phrase. Start with the Gathering Incantation, when you do you will likely feel a bit more of a jolt than you would normally because this place will amplify your power to gather resources. Don’t be alarmed, don’t stop the incantation, and whatever you do, don’t scream.”
Arista looked fearfully back at Royce.
“Once you feel the power moving through your body, begin the Torsonic Chant. As you do you will need to form the crystal-matrix with your fingers, making certain you fold inward not outward.”
“So with my thumbs pointing out and the rest of my fingers pointing at me, right?”
“Yes,” Esrahaddon said irritated. “This is all basic formations, Arista.”
“I know it, I know it-it’s just been a while. I’ve been busy being Melengar’s ambassador, not sitting in my tower practicing conjurations.”
“So you’ve been frivolously wasting your time?”
“No,” she said, exasperated.
“Now, when you’ve completed the matrix,” the wizard went on, “just hold it. Remember the concentration techniques I taught you and focus on keeping the matrix even and steady. At that point, I will tap into your power field and conduct my search. When I do, this room is likely to do some extraordinary things. Images and visions will become visible at various places in the room and you might even hear sounds. Again don’t be alarmed, they aren’t really here, they will merely be echoes of my mind as I search for the amulets.”
“Does that mean all of us will be able to see who the real heir is?” Royce asked as they reached the top.
Esrahaddon nodded. “I would like to have kept it to myself, but fate has seen fit to force me a different way. When I find the magical pulse of the amulets I will focus on the owners and they will likely appear as the largest image in the room as I will be concentrating to determine not only who wears them, but where they are as well.”
The platform was only faintly dust covered and they could easily see the massive converging geometric lines marked on the floor like rays of the sun, all gathering to a single point in the exact center of the dais.
“Them?” Arista asked as she took her position at the central point.
“There were two necklaces, one I gave to Nevrik which will be the heir’s amulet and the other to Jerish which will be the bodyguard’s. If they still exist, we should see both. I would ask that you not tell anyone what you are about to see, for if you do you could put the heir’s life in immense danger and possibly imperil the future of mankind as we know it.”
“Wizards and their drama,” Royce rolled his eyes. “A simple please keep your mouth shut would do.”
Esrahaddon raised an eyebrow at the thief, then turned to Arista and said, “Begin.”
Arista hesitated. Sauly had to be wrong. All that talk about the heir having the power to enslave mankind was just to frighten her into being their spy. His warnings that Esrahaddon was a demon must be more lies. He was secretive certainly, but not evil. He had saved her life tonight. What had Sauly done? How many days before Braga’s death had Saldur known…and done nothing? Too many.
“Arista?” Esrahaddon pressed.
She nodded, raised her hands and began the weave.
Chapter 14: As Darkness Falls
The night wind blew gently across the hilltop. Hadrian and Theron stood alone on the ruins of the manor above what had been a village. A place of countless hopes that lay buried in ash and wreckage.
Theron felt the breeze on his skin and remembered the ill wind he felt the night his family died. The night Thrace ran to him. He could still see her as she raced down the slope of Stony Hill, running to the safety of his arms. He had thought that was the worst day of his life. He had cursed his daughter for coming to him. He blamed her for the death of his family. He put on her all the woe and despair that he had been too weak to carry. She was his little girl, the one who always walked beside him wherever he went, and when he shooed her away, as he always did, he would catch her following at a distance, watching him, mimicking his actions and his words. Thrace was the one who laughed at his faces, cried when he was hurt, the one who sat at his bedside when he lay with fever. He never had a good word for his daughter. Never a pat or praise that he could remember. Not once did he ever say he was proud of her. Most of the time he had not acknowledged her at all. But he would gladly give his own life merely to see his little girl run to him again, just once more.
Theron stood shoulder to shoulder with Hadrian. He held the broken blade hidden beneath his clothes, ready to draw it out in an instant to appease the beast if needed. Hadrian held the false blade the dwarf had fashioned, and he, too, kept it hidden explaining that if the Gilarabrywn knew in advance where its prize was, it might not bother with the trade. Magnus and Tobis waited down the hill out of sight behind a hunting blind of assembled wreckage while Tomas worked at making Hilfred and Mauvin as comfortable as possible at the bottom of the hill.
The moon had risen and climbed above the trees and still the beast had not come. The torches Hadrian had lit in a circle around the hilltop were burning out. Only a few remained, but it did not seem to matter, as the moon was bright and with the canopy of leaves gone, they could see well enough to read a book.
“Maybe it’s not coming,” Tomas said to them climbing up the hill. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be tonight or maybe I was just hearing things. I’ve never been very good with the Old Speech.”
“How’s Mauvin?” Hadrian asked.
“The bleeding stopped. He’s sleeping peacefully now. I covered him in a blanket and created a pillow for him from a spare shirt. He and the soldier Hilfred should-”
There came a cry from the tower that turned their heads. To his amazement, Theron saw a brilliant explosion of white light flare at the pinnacle of the tower. It was there one moment and then faded as suddenly as it had appeared.
“What in the name of Maribor was that?” Theron asked.
Hadrian shook his head. “I don’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say Royce had something to do with it.”
There was another cry from the Gilarabrywn, this one louder.
“Whatever it was,” Hadrian told him, “I think it’s headed our way.”
Behind them, they could faintly hear Tomas praying.
“Put in a good word for Thrace, Tomas,” Theron told him.
“I’m putting a word in for all of us,” the cleric replied.
“Hadrian,” Theron said, “if by chance I don’t survive this and you do, keep an eye on my Thrace for me will you? And if she dies too, see to it we are buried on my farm.”
“And if I should die and you live,” Hadrian said. “Make sure this dagger I have in my belt gets back to Royce before the dwarf steals it.”
“Is that all?” the farmer asked. “Where do you want us to bury you?”
“I don’t want to be buried,” he said. “If I die I think I would like my body to be sent down the river, over the falls. Who knows, I might make it all the way to the sea.”
“Good luck,” Theron told him. The sounds of night went suddenly silent, save only for the breath of the wind.
This time with no forest in the way, he could see it coming, its wide dark wings stretched out like the shadow of a soaring bird, its thin body curling, its tail snapping as it flew. It did not dive as it approached. It did not breathe fire or land. Instead, it circled in silent flight, arcing in a wide ellipse.
As it circled, they could see it was not alone. Within its claws, it held a woman. At first, he could not tell who it was. She appeared to be wearing a richly tailored robe but she had Thrace’s sandy colored hair. As it circled the second time, he knew it was his daughter. A wave of relief and heightened anxiety gripped him. What had become of the other?
After several circles, the beast lowered like a kite and softly
touched the ground. It landed directly in front of them not more than fifty feet away on the site of the now collapsed manor house.
Thrace was alive.
A massive claw of scale covered muscle and bone tipped with four, foot-long black nails surrounded her like a cage.
“Daddy!” she cried in tears.
Seeing her, Theron made a lung forward. Instantly the Gilarabrywn’s claw tightened and she cried out. Hadrian grabbed Theron and pulled him back.
“Wait!” he shouted. “It’ll kill her if you get too close.”
The beast glared at them with huge reptilian eyes. Then the Gilarabrywn spoke.
Neither Theron nor Hadrian understood a word.
“Tomas,” Hadrian shouted over his shoulder. “What’s it saying?”
“I’m not very good at-” Tomas began.
“I don’t care how well you did in grammar at seminary just translate.”
“I think it said it chose to take the females because it would create the greatest incentive for cooperation.”
The creature spoke again and Tomas did not wait for Hadrian to tell him to translate.
“It says: where is the blade that was stolen?”
Hadrian looked back at Tomas, “Ask it: where is the other female?”
Tomas spoke and the beast replied.
“It says the other escaped.”
“Ask it: How do I know you will let us all live if I tell you where the blade is hidden?”
Tomas spoke and the beast replied again.
“It says it will offer you a gesture of good faith since it knows it has the upper hand and understands your concern.”
It opened its claw and Thrace ran to her father. Theron’s heart leapt as his little girl raced across the hill to his waiting arms. He hugged her tight and wiped her tears.
“Theron,” Hadrian said, “get her out of here. Both of you get back to the well if you can.” Theron and his daughter did not argue and the Gilarabrywn’s great eyes watched carefully as Theron and Thrace began to sprint down the hill. Then it spoke again.
“Now, where is the blade?” Tomas translated.
***
Looking up at the towering beast and feeling the sweat dripping down his face, Hadrian drew the false blade out of his sleeve and held it up. The Gilarabrywn’s eyes narrowed.
“Bring it to me,” Tomas translated its words.
This was it. Hadrian felt the metal in his hands “Please let this work,” he whispered to himself and tossed the blade. It landed in the ash before the beast. The Gilarabrywn looked down at it and Hadrian held his breath. The beast casually placed its foot upon the blade and gathered it into its long talons. Then it looked at Hadrian and spoke.
“The deal is complete,” Tomas said. “But…”
“But?” Hadrian repeated nervously, “But what?”
Tomas’ voice grew weak. “But it says, I cannot allow those who have seen even half my name to remain alive.”
“Oh, you bastard,” Hadrian cursed, pulling his great spadone sword from his back. “Run, Tomas!”
The Gilarabrywn rose up, flapping its great wings causing a storm of ash to swirl into a cloud. It snapped forward with its head like a snake. Hadrian dove aside and spinning drove his sword at the beast. Rather than feeling the blade tip penetrate, however, Hadrian’s heart sank as the point of the spadone skipped off as if the Gilarabrywn was made of stone. The sudden shock broke his grip and the sword fell.
Not losing a beat the Gilarabrywn swung its tail around in a sharp snap. The long bone blade on the tip hummed as it sliced the air two feet above the ground. Hadrian leapt over it and the tail glanced off the hillside stabbing into a charred timber. A quick flick and the several hundred-pound log flew into the night. Hadrian reached inside his tunic and drew Alverstone from its sheath. He crouched like a knife-fighter in a ring, up on the balls of his feet, waiting for the next attack.
Once more, the Gilarabrywn’s tail came at him. This time it stabbed like a scorpion. Hadrian dove aside, and the long point sunk into the earth.
He ran forward.
The Gilarabrywn snapped at Hadrian with his teeth. He was ready for that, expecting it, counting on it. He jumped aside at the last minute. It was so close one tooth sliced through his tunic and gashed his shoulder. It was worth it. He was inches from the beast’s face. With all his strength, Hadrian stabbed Royce’s tiny dagger into the monster’s great eye.
The Gilarabrywn screeched an awful cry that deafened Hadrian. It reared back, stomping its feet. The tiny blade pierced the pupil and cut a slice. It shook its head perhaps as much in disbelief as in pain and glared at Hadrian with its one remaining eye. Then it spat out words so laced with venom that Tomas did not need to translate.
The beast spread its wings and drew itself up in the air. Hadrian knew what was coming next and cursed his own stupidity having allowed the creature to move him so far from the pit. He could never make it there in time now.
The Gilarabrywn screeched and arched its back.
There was a loud twack! A wad of rope netting flew into the air like a ball. With small weights tied to the edges that traveled faster than the center, the net flew open like a giant windsock, enveloping the flapping beast even as it tried to take flight.
Its wings tangled in the net, the Gilarabrywn dropped to the hilltop, crashing down with a heavy thud, the impact throwing up bits of the manor house’s stairway banister that flew end-over-end before shattering in a cloud of ash.
“It worked!” Tobis shouted as much in shock as in triumph from the far side of the hill.
Hadrian saw his opportunity and, spinning around, charged the monster. As he did, he noticed Theron following him.
“I told you to take Thrace and run,” Hadrian yelled.
“You look like you needed help,” Theron shouted back, “And I told Thrace to head for the well.”
“What makes you think she will listen to you any more than you listen to me?”
Hadrian reached where the Gilarabrywn lay on its side thrashing about wildly, and dove at its head. He found its open eye and attacked, stabbing repeatedly. With a terrible scream, the beast raked back with its legs, ripping the net open, and rolled to its feet again.
Hadrian, so intent on blinding the beast, had stepped on the netting. When the monster rose up, Hadrian’s feet went out from under him. He fell flat on his back, the air knocked from his lungs.
Blind, the beast resorted to lashing out with its tail, sweeping it across the ground. Hadrian got caught while trying to stand up. Too close to be hit by the blade, the force of the blunt tail struck him.
***
Hadrian rolled and tumbled like a rag doll, sliding across the ash until he stopped in a patch of dirt where he lay, unmoving. Freeing itself fully of the net, the beast sniffed the air and began moving toward the one who had caused it pain.
“No!” Theron shouted and charged. He ran for Hadrian, thinking he could drag him clear of the blind beast before it reached him, only the beast was too fast and reached Hadrian the same time Theron did.
Theron picked up a rock and drew forth the broken blade he still carried. He aimed for the exposed creature’s side and, using the rock as a hammer, drove the metal home like a nail.
This stopped the Gilarabrywn from killing Hadrian, but the beast did not cry out as it had when Hadrian stabbed it. Instead, it turned and laughed. Theron struck the blade with the rock again forcing the metal deep, but still the beast did not cry out. It spoke to him, but Theron could not understand the words. Then, having little trouble guessing where the farmer stood, the Gilarabrywn swiped at him with his claw.
Theron did not have the speed or agility that Hadrian had. Strong as he was for his age his old body could not move clear of the blow in time and the great nails of the beast stabbed into him like four swords.
***
“DADDY!” Thrace screamed, running to him. She scrambled up the slope crying as she came.
From their blind, Tobi
s and the dwarf fired a rock at the Gilarabrywn, and managed to hit its tail. The beast spun and charged furiously in their direction.
Falling to her hands and knees Thrace crawled to Theron’s side and found her father lying broken on the hill. His left arm lay twisted backwards, his foot facing the wrong direction. His chest soaked in dark blood and his breath hitched as his body convulsed.
“Thrace,” he managed to say weakly.
“Daddy,” she cried as she cradled him in her arms.
“Thrace,” he said again, gripping her with his remaining hand and pulled her close. “I’m so-” his eyes closed tightly in pain. “I’m so-pr-proud of you.”
“Oh god, Daddy. No. No. No!” she cried shaking her head.
She held him, squeezing as hard as she could, trying by the force of her arms to keep him with her. She would not let him go. She could not, he was all there was. She sobbed and wailed, clutching his shirt, kissing his cheek and forehead, and as she held him, she felt her father pass away into the night.
Theron Wood died on the scorched ground in a pool of blood and dirt. As he did, the last tiny remnant of hope Thrace had held onto-her last foothold she had in the world-died with him.
There is a darkness of night, a darkness of senses, and a darkness of spirit. Thrace felt herself drowning in all three. Her father was dead. Her light, her hope, her last dream, they all died with his last breath. Nothing remained upon the world that it had not taken from her.
It had killed her mother.
It had killed her brother, his wife, and her nephew.
It had killed Daniel Hall and Jessie Caswell.
It had burned her village.
It had killed her father.
Thrace raised her head and looked across the hill at it.
No one that had been attacked had ever lived. There were never any survivors.
She stood and began to walk forward slowly. She reached into the robe and pulled out the sword that had remained hidden there.
The beast found the catapult and shattered it. It turned and blindly began to search its way back down the hillside sniffing. It did not notice the young girl.
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