Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread

by Adams, David

  “Well, we’re all glad you were with us yesterday. If those things—the Dezku you called them—came back, would you be able to use the sword to run them off again?”

  “I believe so,” Barlow answered, but he added a shrug.

  Darius had expected a more reassuring response. “You’re not sure?”

  “I wasn’t fully sure yesterday.”

  “But if you had been wrong…”

  “I wouldn’t be here. And that would have been God’s will, something I’ll not dispute.”

  “Sounds like you can’t trust the sword.”

  “Oh, I don’t, not in the way you’re thinking. The sword is simply a conduit, as am I. The only bit of knowledge that drove me to act as I did was my belief that the flying creatures were in fact Dezku, denizens of a lower plane. It is against evil that a pure heart can channel otherworldly power through the sword. If it had been a swarm of vicious bats, Gabriel would have just been another blade.”

  “Then if they return…I don’t understand why it would be different, why you doubt.”

  “I doubt my own strength, for one. Using Gabriel in such a way takes a toll, as does the healing I performed. I am only a man, and my strength can wane and be broken.”

  “Fair enough,” Darius replied. He waited for Barlow to go on in some fashion, but when he didn’t he continued. “You seemed to imply another reason for doubt.”

  Barlow nodded, his face going tight. “You chose a good word. ‘Doubt.’ I mentioned a pure heart, or maybe a nearly pure one, as no man but one can claim total purity. I’ve never doubted my faith, not directly, but sometimes I wonder if my own attitudes about how Corterra has changed and what future it might have, and an occasional feeling I have that’s close to bitterness about my own aging shows too great a focus on the powers and things of this world. Can one think such thoughts and still be considered pure of heart?”

  Again Darius found himself searching for the right words.

  Barlow smiled at the younger man. “Let that be a lesson to you. Be careful what you ask. You may get more in reply than what you want.”

  *

  That night the mood in their camp was as light as could be hoped for. They had made good progress, seen no sign of the Dezku or any other potential trouble, and now had full bellies to go with their full packs. Even Adrianna and Barlow were still maintaining their unspoken truce. It was in such a situation that Darius expected Luke to be in his element, but instead his brother seemed pensive and worried. After the stories around the campfire started to slow, Darius rose and announced he wanted to stretch his legs a bit, and so had reason to wander away from the others. He wasn’t surprised when Luke soon followed. “Nice night,” he remarked casually.

  Luke looked up through the trees at the shimmering stars. “It is that. Always liked looking at the stars.”

  Darius joined his brother in a brief period of stargazing, tracing constellations he had known from boyhood. “Want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  Luke laughed once, a quick snort. “You mean other than the flying demon bats and that book you’re carrying?”

  Darius couldn’t help but smile. That was the Luke he knew. “Yeah. Other than that.”

  “You know, I always wanted adventure in my life, like any good farm boy. I was jealous of you being off in the war. That’s dumb, I know, but until you experience the horrors of it…well, it’s easy to think of it a just a game for grown-ups, a way to prove you’re a man and to have stories to tell back home.” He found he couldn’t look at his brother, embarrassed at his own words. “You probably think I’m being a stupid kid.”

  “I don’t. You’re showing a lot of maturity just being able to express those thoughts. And I was no different.”

  “You weren’t?” Luke asked, surprised and relieved.

  “No, I wasn’t. Thought I’d come back to a glorious welcome, the conquering hero. It didn’t take long at the front to realize that wasn’t going to happen, and as far as having tales to tell…”

  “You have them, but not the desire to share them.”

  Darius shook his head. “I doubt I can ever forget, and there is little I’d want to relive by the telling.”

  Luke nodded. “So now I’ve got my adventure. Yesterday I saw something I never would have dreamed of, the way that sword shone. But even so, there was fear and death, and our road ahead may contain far worse.” He looked Darius straight in the eye, something he rarely did. “I’m wondering what we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

  Darius fought the urge to immediately suggest Luke return home. He knew he wasn’t asking to be excused, and Darius had to admit to similar feelings. “We’re doing this for Sasha.”

  “I know,” Luke said with a nod. He forced a smile. “Guess it’s still good to hear it. You think she’s okay?”

  “She could handle either of us,” Darius replied lightly, trying to mask his fear.

  Luke laughed with no feeling, trying to match his brother’s feigned confidence, and knowing he was doing as poor a job at it as Darius was.

  *

  Kaelesh drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. It wasn’t a nervous gesture—Kaelesh was prone to no such flaw—but rather an indication that he was deep in thought. The nearly incessant demands of the war and of King Landri had left him little time to himself, and although he had continued his search for the Blood Book through various agents, he found this was the first time in several days he could give himself fully over to pondering his next move.

  The Stonemans had, of course, answered all his questions in a most truthful and forthcoming manner, and he had learned that the girl Sasha had indeed fled with the book and had taken it to her family’s home. Unfortunately, her two brothers were home at the time, and the three Stoneman children and the book had all disappeared, with the parents having no idea which way they went, where they were headed, or what their plans were. His spies had been able to track the boys’ path west but it grew cold somewhere before the Old Road reached Anson’s Furnace. One piece of information they did obtain was that the girl was not with them, but of her travels nothing was known.

  So far Kaelesh had been steady but cautious in this hunt, trying to conceal himself, his motives, and his power as much as possible. But with the trail growing colder by the day, he knew he needed to act with more boldness. Bold, yes, he thought, but not foolish.

  The word made him think of Landri, of the unnecessary risks he took and the missteps he made when left to his own plans. The Dezku were but one example. Called forth using the book, Landri had no thought to what purpose he would use them, and so now they ranged over Corterra without a set task, simply wreaking havoc. That in itself was fine, but their very existence here could draw unwanted attention from someone with knowledge of the dark arts. Foolish.

  Kaelesh considered his options one last time and made his decision. Once that was done, he went down his chosen path, as always without looking back. He made sure the door was locked, then lit the candles that formed a circle in one corner of the room. He pulled up the rug the candles encircled, revealing the concrete floor. He drew a dagger he kept sheathed on his hip, pulled up the left sleeve of his robe, and unflinchingly sliced open his forearm. He flexed the muscles of his arm so that the blood would flow freely, and as it began to pool in his palm he crouched down and held his index finger out like a pen, the blood running down to the tip so he could mark the floor. He made several simple figures, then drew smaller signs inside of them, runes few would understand. When his work was finished he wiped the excess blood off on a cloth, which he then lit with one of the candles. It went up in a quick burst of flame. Before the ashes dropped to the ground, the deep cut on his forearm was completely healed.

  From his pocket Kaelesh pulled three small items: an earring, a small rock with a golden metallic vein, and a bronze coin. These he placed at the corners of the first shape he had drawn, a triangle. This done, he surveyed his work, and gave an approving nod. He backed out of the ca
ndle-lit circle, and took up a soft chant, his voice no more than a whisper, though there were none in the castle who would have understood his words even if they heard them.

  The drawing on the floor changed in hue, from the dark red of Kaelesh’s drying blood to an orange-red more like the light of a fire. Gray smoke rose from each corner of the triangle, quickly obscuring the objects that rested there. The smoke thickened and took form, and as Kaelesh finished speaking three small creatures stood where the objects had once been. Their hairless bodies were covered by pink flesh, their forms somewhat reminiscent of thin dogs bred for speed, but their faces, especially their eyes, held an intelligence that indicated these were no mere animals.

  Kaelesh went to the window and flung it open. “Find them,” was his simple order.

  The three creatures burst into action, scrambling out the window, up the wall, and onto the roof of the castle. In a heartbeat they disappeared into the night.

  Chapter 10: The Dragon’s Teeth

  The Dragon’s Teeth were a range of mountains that stretched just over three-hundred miles, forming a good portion of the border between Longvale and Dalusia. The mountains had been so-named due to the fact that most were narrow—at least as far as mountains are concerned—and high-peaked. During the summer months there were many paths that could be used to pass from one side of the range to the other, but most still involved steep, difficult climbs and were considered quite treacherous. The least imposing passage was in an area between the North Long and Little Rivers to the south, and Wingate Falls and the city Wingate Heights to the north.

  Traveling as they did in the rocky foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth, it took the companions nearly ten days to reach the point where they began to ascend the slightly overgrown path between mountains. Not surprisingly, the path had been little used since war had broken out between the kingdoms—it was of little use for traders even when the kingdoms exchanged goods freely with one another, and was too small for an army to use. But one person, or a small group, could still save considerable time moving from one kingdom to the other by braving the twisting path, and even with the war the way was still outlined for any that would hazard the journey.

  They camped that night on the mountain, and the next day finished their ascent and just before dark started back down. They were now in Dalusia—enemy territory. That night they again camped on the mountain, but were even more cautious than normal about making their small fire behind the shelter of a rock outcropping, not wanting to call attention to their presence.

  After they had eaten and full night had fallen they used their perch to spy out what was before them. Darius pointed to a group of lights in the distance. “That must be Wingate Heights.”

  “Seems in decent repair, at least as far as my eyes can decipher from here,” Silas noted. “But you said the last you knew the armies were further north.”

  “That’s so,” Darius said. “But I do not know that any fighting has taken place at Wingate Heights, nor was the city subject to siege. It had been cut off, but had no real strategic value.”

  “Then it’s likely to be well-populated and possibly well-defended,” Adrianna said. “Best give it a wide berth.”

  They all agreed, planning to work their way west in the morning to keep clear of the city and any sentries that might be posted there. One by one they turned away from the scenic overlook to head back to the fire and their campsite.

  There was a stand of trees to their left as they returned, and from that direction came a sudden noise, a rattle in the brush as something burst forth. Before they could even turn in that direction, it was upon them.

  A flash of fur and teeth flew at Adrianna, and she just managed to raise a warding arm before the reaching fangs were able to find her throat. The impact still knocked her over, and she rolled defensively as the thing tried to get at her.

  Silas was nearest and quickest to react. He swung his staff, a swift slap merely meant to get the thing off of Adrianna. The wood connected and her assailant was thrown clear. It rolled over and found its feet quickly, deciding where to strike next.

  “Wolf,” Silas muttered, just as it went for Adrianna again. Dumb thing, he thought, as he readied the staff for another blow, this one intended to be fatal.

  “Look out!” Luke yelled, too late.

  Silas found himself airborne, going over the prone sorceress and the charging wolf. As he spun to face his attacker, his eyes grew large. The goblin that had sent him flying was coming for him, and it was not alone.

  The companions had not expected or wanted battle, but now it was upon them. There were at least a dozen goblins with three wolves in their company, but the fighting was all chaos, the goblins racing in to take advantage of their outnumbered foes but yielding the edge they had by not working together. The wolves were no better, each looking for what they deemed the easiest prey.

  Given a choice, the companions would have fought side-by-side, working together and protecting one another’s flanks and rear, but when the monsters struck they were strung out almost single file, and now the sheer numbers of their enemies left little chance for the entire group to come together. Adrianna and Silas were the closest, but Adrianna carried no weapons, not wanting to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Silas knew this, and so he spent as much or more energy trying to keep the monsters off of her as he did defending himself. Not only was Adrianna doing all she could just to keep the wolves from tearing at her flesh, she had no chance to use her magic, unable to attain the focus and time needed to cast even the simplest spell.

  Barlow fought with righteous fury, his sword swinging in powerful arcs, hewing at anything within reach. He did not possess the raw physical strength Silas did, but the edge on his sword was keen and did far more damage with each successful blow than did Silas’ staff.

  Unsure where to turn or strike, Luke felt as if his feet were made of clay. A goblin charged him, forcing him to shake off his hesitation, his staff rising just in time to ward off the goblin’s club. The crack of wood-on-wood was loud even above the din of battle, and Luke felt the bee-buzz in his hands from absorbing the might of the goblin’s strike. The goblin pressed forward, raining blow after blow upon its smaller opponent, finally forcing Luke to lose his balance and fall onto his back. On instinct one hand had cushioned his fall, so he had only one hand on his staff when the goblin next struck, his grip hardly enough to keep the staff up at an angle sufficient to deflect the club. The goblin kicked at his hand just as Luke whirled the staff around to crack into a green-skinned knee. Without much leverage behind it the blow seemed to enrage the goblin rather than harming it. The goblin raised the club high, but rather than driving it down immediately it instead kicked again, this time connecting with the staff so it twisted up and behind Luke, leaving him defenseless.

  Luke tensed, ready to roll right to avoid the killing blow, but the club never fell. The point of a sword came punching out of the goblin’s chest, and dark blood spattered across Luke’s forehead and then started to run in great gouts down the goblin’s torso. For a moment it held perfectly still, its eyes wide with surprise, as if trying to understand what had happened. Then the goblin went slack, the club falling to the ground just before its lifeless body, leaving Luke and Darius staring at one another.

  Luke only managed to get to his feet and mumble “Thanks” before a wolf flew between them, teeth flashing and saliva flying before it in a wide arc as it turned its head, trying to get at either of the now scrambling brothers.

  Silas felt time pressing upon him, could feel the weight of the battle pushing him and his friends to the edge. One mistake and one of them would fall, and the odds would get worse. He knew he needed to do something more than just defend himself and Adrianna. He needed to switch to the offensive, but the relentless wolf was not to be dissuaded, and three goblins pressed him, looking for an opening in his defenses or simply hoping to drive him far enough away that they could take advantage of the apparently defenseless woman. Silas had struc
k the wolf with sharp, cautious blows, giving Adrianna temporary respite in her struggle but little more. Once he decided on more aggressive action, he continued to move with the same fluid grace, blocking each incoming club and sword, and things seemed to slow down for the trained warrior in him. He saw the woman and the wolf in their deadly embrace, watched as they rocked one way then rolled the other, then saw his opening. He swatted a sword away, blocked a low swipe of a club, then brought the staff around with all his might, missing Adrianna by a fraction of an inch and driving the full force of the swing into the wolf’s skull. The wolf was thrown clear and landed with a thud several feet away.

  One of the goblins tried for Adriana as she started to rise, but Silas’ staff swung around and tripped the beast. He drove the end of his weapon into the prostrate goblin’s back, smashing the air from its lungs and breaking a couple of ribs as well. Adrianna broke free as the fallen goblin tried to crawl away from the cruel staff, while its two companions, growing more wary, decided it might be best to let the woman flee and focus on the staff-wielding man.

  Silas spared a glance at Adrianna, who got clear of the battle as quickly as she could. Convinced she was safe for now, he turned his attention back to his nearest foes with a grim smile that made them both fall back a step.

  Barlow remained at the literal and figurative center of the battle. Something about him seemed to draw the goblins to him, be it his appearance or some intangible aura. His arms, legs, and back cried out for rest, but he pushed himself on, swinging his sword with near-abandon, the sweat flowing from him as freely as the blood from his enemies. He pushed the aches and pains away from his mind, knowing the relentless press of his foes would bury him if he so much as paused to catch his breath.

  Luke had found his feet and his focus after Darius had saved him. The training with Silas now paid off, the staff an extension of his body, his movements more sure. He did little real damage, but he found he could defend himself well enough, especially against club-wielding goblins. Those with swords, he found, were a different matter, the blades digging into the wood of his staff, weakening it. He quickly adjusted his technique, needing to ward the blows off rather than stopping them cold with his weapon.