The man pointed to the north and said he had seen her hurrying that way. Neth’tek quickly thanked him and then dashed up the road toward the northern gate, and once he had passed out of it he slowed to a jog as he looked about either side of the road for any sign of where Helen might have gone.
There was only one house on this side of Evenstar that Neth’tek knew of, perhaps one of the oldest houses built during humanities retreat into these mountains, and so he headed there. It was a courter of a mile from the north gate, off a beaten path through some brush and swaying willow trees. A relaxing walk for someone who struggled with nightmares and the ever present thought of judgment from those he shared life with, so Neth’tek took it in as best as he could.
However, a cold shiver entered his body as he came in sight of the house and its wooden fence, the gate open, a group of four people standing on the steps to the front porch.
What could possibly be going on to attract so much attention? Neth’tek asked himself, hesitating. But he saw Helen standing behind four men, one of them Guldar himself.
Be careful, the voice of Ezila warned him in his mind.
Helen happened to glance over her shoulder and see him standing on the path, watching them curiously. She waved him over, and Neth’tek reluctantly stepped forward until he was at the bottom of the steps with her.
“What is it, then?” he asked softly.
“You know Rorxal, don’t you?” she asked him in response, keeping her voice to a low whisper.
Neth’tek nodded, eager for her to explain.
“Well,” she began hesitantly, “he’s had some sort of a… dream I guess is the word. But anyway, it’s not good. He’s been lying on the floor all night, shaking, speaking gibberish that none of us can understand. The man who usually keeps his house for him, Jerem – that’s him talking to Guldar and that other fellow – he came into town and told the baron, who then told me to tell you and Dril... Is any of this making sense?”
Neth’tek put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. He could tell she was under a lot of stress, her eyes darting this way and that as if waiting for someone to come around and help her explain. “Yes, Helen, I understand,” he said. “Why don’t you go back into town and get some rest, maybe something to eat as well. You’ve obviously done a lot helping them out and deserve the break.”
He smiled reassuringly at her, and she nodded and started to walk past him. But she stopped and looked him in the face, saying, “I couldn’t find Dril’ead. Shouldn’t he know about this?”
Neth’tek shrugged. “I haven’t seen Dril all morning,” he said, “though I think he might have gone to work at the Willard Ranch. I’ve seen him there a few times. But I wouldn’t worry about it. For now, just relax.”
He stepped up onto the porch and looked back at Helen, who stood there watching the house uncertainly. But Neth’tek waved her away and she went, though he watched her until she was out of sight in the trees before joining the others.
“Neth’tek, I’m so glad you could make it!” the baron said, slapping him on the arm as he saw him come up beside them.
“I heard there was a problem,” Neth’tek replied, “so I came as quickly as I could.”
“As is your way,” Guldar said, though he did not smile or show any expression of joy on the matter. “However, I’m afraid you haven’t been as quick today as we had hoped you would. It appears that something has entered this land, in particular this house, and robbed us of someone most dear to me especially.”
The two other men, Jerem and someone who had not yet spoken to Neth’tek, were looking in the house through the open door. Their faces were a mixture of puzzlement and alarm as they examined the interior of the home.
Neth’tek peeked over Jerem’s shoulder and saw the body lying on the floor inside, completely unharmed and yet without life. However, there were markings all over the walls and floor, strange characters that Neth’tek guessed belonged to some unknown language. Every picture that the man had hung, any bookshelf or dresser that was set against the wall, were torn down and tossed in a pile in one corner of the room, and the body of Rorxal himself was lying on his back, stripped of his clothes, arms extended to either side with the palms up.
It smelled like death.
“This is… very odd,” Neth’tek remarked, and the three men looked at him as if expecting him to explain what exactly it was they were looking at. He just shrugged, though, and took a step back. “You’re right baron, something has come to this place and done some terrible things, though I’m not exactly sure what could have possibly conjured up such dark magic here. This is obviously dark business.”
“We figured that out, Fallen,” said Jerem, shaking his head and glancing back inside the house. “What we don’t understand is how he died.”
The other man bumped his arm, cutting into the conversation. “I told you already. He was used for some ritual during the night and was drained of his life!” he said.
The baron shook his head in disbelief, but looked shocked when Neth’tek nodded his head in agreement. “Well, that’s more than likely the case here,” he said to the two others’ questioning looks. “But I’m no expert. My brother would know what to do, only thing is I can’t be certain where he is…”
“Then you’d better count on me to be certain where you are,” Dril’ead said as he came up beside them, and all four of them nearly jumped in surprised at his sudden arrival.
Dril crossed his arms over his chest as he examined the scene before him, ignoring their bewilderment, though Neth’tek was now chuckling to himself. Turning to the man who had spoken, he poked his finger into his chest and asked, “You. What’s your name?”
“Um, I’m Ronald,” he said hesitantly, nervous with The Fallen staring so intensely at him now.
“Well, Ronald, you’re right about what happened to this man,” he said, glancing back inside, “his soul was used to feed the hunger of some creature that has been set loose on this world by perhaps a misfortunate accident.” He slowly looked at Neth’tek as he finished, and an understanding passed between the two of them.
“Could that possibly be the case?” said Guldar in disbelief.
“I’m certain that it is,” replied Dril evenly. “I suggest that you leave this place before more damage is done to you and your people. I and my brother will handle this further, no need to worry.”
Guldar looked at Neth’tek for support, but he only nodded his agreement.
“Fine,” the baron said. “Come on you two, we should prepare ourselves better!”
Ronald and Jerem both hesitated, glancing once more through the doorway and at the terrible scene. But they took their leave with the baron as he began to walk away.
Neth’tek and Dril’ead waited until they were certain the men were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear them before speaking, though they kept their words to a soft whisper anyway.
“Can it be possible that the Ulchar is responsible for this?” Neth’tek asked his brother, looking once more around the room.
Dril’ead stepped into the house without hesitation, and stood just a few feet from the body of Rorxal, his fists resting on his hips as he looked up and down the floor and walls. “These markings,” he said pointing at the wall, “they are ancient inscriptions created by the keepers of the Lesser Realms, our ancestors.”
Neth’tek cocked his head to one said, but he stayed in the doorway. He didn’t like the feeling of that place at all. “You understand it, then?” he asked.
“Barely,” Dril’ead replied, “I only know what it looks like, not what it means. Its purpose, however, is somewhat known to me… A code, meant to keep the creatures of the Lesser Realm in their place beneath the Shadow Realms.”
“So…” Neth’tek frowned as he thought, “What could the Ulchar possibly be doing with such markings? Wouldn’t it try to avoid using them, so as not to be locked away?”
Dril shrugged nonchalantly, turning about as he inspected more of the e
lements of the room. “One would think so,” he said, “but one would also think that maybe this is not a key to be used to lock away, but rather to set loose.”
Neth’tek blinked, his mouth pulled to a line. “It’s trying to free something, then,” he said.
“Or open a gateway,” Dril’ead conceded, nodding.
He looked down at the naked body on the floor, no marks of any kind on the man. Even the grey hairs on his head were untouched by any demon claw. Kneeling down next to Roraxle’s head, Dril put a finger to the side of his neck and waited. When he was done, he lifted one arm from the floor and examined it, looking closely at its palm.
“I don’t understand,” he mumbled as he set the arm back where it had been.
Suddenly, Rorxale reached back and grabbed Dril by the front of his shirt, pulling himself up so he could look directly into his eye. Surprised by the sudden movement, Dril grabbed his arm with both hands, ready to snap the bone in an instant. But Rorxale only stared at him with wide eyes.
“Two more days,” hissed the old man, his grip tightening on Dril’s shirt, his eyes no longer his own. “Two more days before the blood moon rises! Two more die before the world breaks… Two more!”
He fell back against the floorboards, his head thudding against the wood, and didn’t move again.
For a long moment, neither Dril’ead nor Neth’tek moved or spoke a word. They were stunned by what they had both seen and heard; a warning from Alastra no doubt, the perpetrator behind all of this as Dril assumed.
Dril’ead rose slowly to his feet, his eyes still on the body, and then walked over to the door and Neth’tek. “Let’s leave this place,” he said quietly as he passed him.
“What do we do about the house and the body?” Neth’tek asked, turning and watching him go down from the porch.
“Tell the baron to burn it all,” Dril replied over his shoulder as he walked away.
Frowning, Neth’tek turned and looked into the house once more. For a moment he thought that he saw Ezila standing beside one wall, her arm raised toward it as she examined the markings there. But then she was gone, and there was nothing but a cold chill under his skin as he stood there.
Turning away, he jogged to catch up with Dril as he walked back into town.
11
Baron of this City
“That didn’t take long,” Guldar said as Neth’tek and Dril’ead entered his office in the main hall, upstairs from his courtroom. “Find any explanation?”
“You have two days to prepare this settlement,” Dril’ead replied without hesitation, and he straightened up before the baron’s figure.
Guldar, confused and surprised at the suddenness of the statement, glanced at Neth’tek for an explanation. Neth’tek said nothing, but stood still beside his brother.
“What exactly am I preparing myself against?” Guldar asked them, resting his hands on his waist.
Dril folded his arms, sensing the stubbornness in the baron’s tone and expression. “Two days from now, a blood moon will rise,” he said, “and when it does, this village of yours will be in the utmost danger. Last night, my brother and I were visited by a stranger in black, claiming to be a messenger for his mistress, and said that she requested our presence on the night of the blood moon. Our beloved friend has been visited by none other than the demon from last night’s encounter in the chapel, and he told us by way of the creatures’ powers that the blood moon will rise in two days, and that two more will die likewise.”
When Dril was done speaking, there was complete silence in the room. The three of them stood still, thinking so hard that they thought they were spoken words.
Finally, the baron turned about and leaned on his desk, resting his knuckles against the hard wood. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Why?” he asked, though it seemed to be directed towards no one in particular, “Why must there always be this danger? It seems as if without it, there would be nothing to counterbalance the good that we have done in this land… Nevertheless, I trust Muari’s judgments. The last time darkness fell upon my people, we were nearly lost in its oblivion.” He turned around to look back at the two of them, and continued saying, “It was you and Neth’tek who delivered us… I am no hero to these people, unlike my father before me. You two must lead them.”
Both Neth’tek and Dril shook their heads. “The people listen to you, they look to you as their leader,” said Neth’tek. “We are but refugees in this city, rejected and cast off from the rest of our kind. Any leadership in our blood has been spent. You, however, are baron of this city.”
“But I am old and tired,” Guldar replied, “I cannot be baron of Evenstar forever. I am tired of this constant conflict with such evil.”
“The time for rest may come for you in its own time,” said Dril’ead, “but now is not the time. Now is the time that you gather together the people and make them into an army; a wall with which they might deflect this coming storm.”
“Yes,” said Neth’tek, “we are warriors in this land. If there is any other duty you’d have us do, we’d see it done.”
For a moment the baron said nothing as he stared down at the floor, and then slowly he nodded his head and looked up at them. “It is good to have such loyalty,” he said. “For now, keep a watch out for further signs of oblivion.”
With that being said, he turned and walked round his desk to sit in the chair there.
“With your permission, we’d like to dispose of the house its contents,” Dril said.
The baron waved his hand dismissively. “Do as you please,” he said, and then sat still and stared at the papers and books he had stacked before him.
Troubled at Guldar’s mood, Neth’tek hesitated before leaving his office. Two days, he thought, two more deaths among these poor people… if only I knew what to do, how to stop them. They will only tear this people apart even more.
Dril’ead was already at the door when Neth’tek turned back to the baron, speaking firmly but gently to the aging man just as he thought his good friend Skifel might have. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the reasons why, not that I know for myself, but know that I am afraid just as you are. My fear is fed by that which I cannot comprehend, and what I cannot comprehend is what is to come of this threat against our people. But do not think for one moment that my brother and I are not prepared to do that which is necessary to defend this country, to be leaders to this people when the time arrives. Above all, we will always be your friend.”
He stood there for a moment, though he was not waiting for the baron to give a response. Instead, Neth’tek watched him, hoping that the man would give some sign that he understood his good intentions.
Guldar only looked up at him and feigned a smile, and a weak one at that. Neth’tek bowed his head to him and then turned about, following Dril’ead down the stairs and through the courtroom to the town outside.
“You’ll make a fine leader yet, brother,” Dril said, patting him on the shoulder. “Perhaps even better than I could have ever been.”
Neth’tek said nothing, but kept walking.
12
Uncovered Secrets
The wind ripped at his grey cloak, almost blending him into the snow covered prairie that they traversed. Had it not been for the knee deep footprints that Whiteshadow left behind, Milstrom would have lost his way, and the way of the whole Adya army that he led through the blizzard, soon after leaving the city walls. Frost nipped at their raw faces, freezing any exposed part of their body that wasn’t heavily wrapped by the cloaks and coats that they had on. But Duoreod was determined to get beyond the veil of ice that blocked their passage through the valley, his eyes set on the tall shadows that were the looming mountains of Bolgin.
Ever since the Urden’Dagg had come with his armies and unleashed the unholy Lesser Realm upon all of Aldabaar, no one was safe even inside the once glistening gates of the Silver City. The darkness had scorched even the brightness of the ancient glory of Aldabaar, the hope of the nation. Blo
od and carnage, war and chaos was all that was left of the city. They had thought that perhaps with the Urden’Dagg’s defeat these monsters would cease further combat with them, but they had underestimated the thirst for blood that so hungrily drove the shadows onward.
And so here was Duoreod and Milstrom, and a thousand of the kings armed soldiers, marching through the snow to uncover the secrets that had long ago been buried in the Bolgin Mountains.
They had been on the treacherous road for three days, stopping only when it was necessary for the men to rest. But even then, they had to take shifts not only to keep watch over their camp, but also to make certain none of the men froze in their sleep. This happened infrequently, and was a tragedy for all the soldiers to lose their comrades in such a way.
After the second was buried in the snow, and Duoreod had said a few words over the icy grave, the men were determined to keep moving as far and as long as they could in a single day, without stopping and risking the life of any more of their unfortunate companions. Duoreod understood this claim, and pushed them forward with encouragement to their cause and destination. The fate of their world depended on the success of this expedition.
Grindle, the stone fortress, could not fall into the hands of their enemies for as long as they had the strength to hold it.
At long last they arrived at their destination, with no further loses to their company. Looking back at his beleaguered men as they collapsed to the snow behind him, Duoreod sighed as he let down his own pack from his shoulders.
“We made it, lord,” Milstrom said under heavy breaths, puffing steam out from his open mouth. “And look,” he said, raising a finger toward the frozen tundra ahead of their path, “There are the towers that once served the defense of the city! The causeway should be between them, crossing the old Swaldar river.”
Oblivion: Part Five of the Redemption Cycle Page 6