*****
And so just as he had returned, Duoreod son of Drelus found himself leaving the Silver City on a journey that would take him all across Aldabaar as he knew it. He packed little, storing some supplies in the saddlebags of his white mare, leaving his first councilor to watch over the city.
He looked down at the noble Adya as he sat astride Whiteshadow, holding her steady in the dark city of his once magnificent home. “You will protect them, wont you?” he asked.
The councilor bowed reverently to his king. “With my life,” he said.
Taking one more look at his city, dust and ash collected in all corners of it, groups of soldiers marching this way and that as monsters appeared here and there causing ruckus, Duoreod said his silent goodbye and then departed. It was a long road to Valdorin, and dangerous too. Since the war with The Fallen Adya, this region of Aldabaar had fallen into shadow, the fear of death and those who hunted in the wilds still lingering in the air, especially in the forested hills of Heinsfar.
But Duoreod did not relent to anything that came in his path. He saw little, a pack of wolves tearing at the carcass of an elk a hundred yards from the roadside. One of the ghastly beasts rose its bloody maw from the mess of carnage and looked his way, hungry for flesh. But it did not pursue him, though he felt the cold stare of the wild hunter following him.
Once or twice he thought he spied the charred bones of humans, half buried in the dirt. The trees were still black, many dead and rotting, fallen to the ground and devoured by termites. He thought back to when he had traveled through this same region on many errands in the past, and recalled seeing some settlements in the trees where lumberjacks would stay to do their work. He saw no sign of life this far into the woods, though, save for some ruins of an old log cabin that appeared to have been set fire to long ago.
Glass still littered the ground.
These poor people had it the worst, I would say, he thought as he went up the road, the sights and smells getting worse as he neared civilization. We have been plagued by this war. Even decades since its close, we still fight the memories of it. It has been the same as ever before.
Not daring to stop and camp, and having energy given to him by the innate ability of the blessed Adya of the First Born, Duoreod pushed through the whole night, holding to his mare as strange noises arose and came near before passing away into the black night of the Heinsfar forest, haunted as it seemed. He thought he saw shapes moving in the darkness, the forms of people or animals he could not tell, and once or twice he could have sworn he heard a scream in the air, one of death and agony.
His bones were chilled by cold winds that arose and drifted away, carrying the sounds with it into the east, back toward the Silver City.
When dawn finally came, he was relieved to see the light of the sun through the trees overhead and feel the warmth of it. A cold chill still lingered in the air, but it was good to have the sun again; and then coming to a place he suspected to have been the first line of Valdorin’s defense in the old days, Duoreod felt the chill even worse. There appeared to be what remained of a wall and gate, though now it was broken to the earth and burned by fires long gone.
The Fallen ripped through this country like a hot knife through butter, Duoreod thought as he passed the ruins and came to more houses. These were all abandoned, and the destruction there was obvious. Roofs were collapsed and windows smashed inward, doors ripped from their hinges and lying in pieces on the ground.
He could picture the fire here, all of the people in panic as the soldiers were cut down and driven into the flames. He saw shadowy figures throwing torches into the windows, setting fire to the houses, forcing the families to either hide and perish in fire or retreat outside where they were brutally massacred by the hunters.
Without realizing it, he caught himself gripping the reins in his hands, knuckles turning white. He relaxed his grip, loosening his jaw where it was clenched.
A sound to his right startled him and his horse, Whiteshadow halting and tossing her head as she whinnied.
“Easy, easy!” he said, patting her neck.
To his surprise, a man came stumbling out the doorway of one of the houses, his clothes little more than rags, and fell to the earth right before him as if searching for something in the dirt.
“Where have they gone this time?” he demanded, digging in the dirt. “Blast! They’ve gone again! But where? Where have they gone this time? Blast!” and he kept on repeating the same words over and over again. It was obvious he was mad.
Duoreod only looked at him, frowning. But the man took no notice of him or his horse, and got back to his feet and stumbled away across the street; going into another house, muttering to himself.
Duoreod, having seen and heard enough from this place, kicked in the stirrups and continued up the street. “The Fallen,” he said, “Muari has chosen The Fallen... But why?”
19
The Praise and The Sea Snake
Vexor Hulmir looked out from the portside of The Praise, a prize merchant ship in Port Hemingway, an expression of awe and content as he watched the water lap against the side of the ship. A decade and a half on the surface world that they called Aldabaar, and he was still enriched by the sights and sounds, even the smells, that filled the air. There were no clouds this day, and the salty air of the sea filled his nostrils. He took it all in. Seven years he had served captain Kane Leeson, a man who had bought him out of the kings jail for a high price.
Kane said that he saw something in Vexor as he was shackled in public with the other criminals of his station, The Fallen Adya who had come to Aldabaar from the pits of the Shadow Realms to take the world for their Urden’Dagg. He did not specify what exactly it was he had seen in the fighter, but it was enough for him to buy him out of the dungeons and serve his ship.
This day marked twenty five years to the day Vexor Hulmir first set foot upon the surface, and looking back he realized just how far he had come and how little he had taken with him. Tisla had been lost, killed by the men of Heinsfar during an ambush, and for her he mourned. She had been his love, his life and his dream these people had taken her from him, but he did not blame them for their actions. She had not seen the evil of the Urden’Dagg as he had, and for that reason alone he did not blame, but he mourned all the same.
Vexor saw the ship in the distance, its sail white against the blue sky. It headed their way, the same merchant route as all the others heading west against he gales to the famous fishing grounds of the sea. But there was something odd that even Vexor could see.
“A ship! Coming fast off the portside!” he cried, turning around and waving his arms over his head to signal the men at the prow. He pointed behind him just as a resounding boom filled the air and the whole ship trembled, a cannonball ripping through the bulwark several feet behind him.
He felt wooden splinters rip his trousers and cut his legs, and he fell to the deck with his hands over his head as several more came hurling through the hull. Deckhands screamed, crying out orders and running into action. It was another pirate raid. They had become more and more fierce as the days passed, installing fear into the hearts of merchants taking the long trip west.
Kane Leeson’s voice rose over the thunder of cannons,spewing orders to his men. “To the guns, you fools! Go, go! Raise the sails and turn the ship about!”
“They’ll rip this boat to shreds, Kane!” Vexor got to his knees and looked toward the enemy ship, now coming round their portside. He looked at the captain, his face white as the blood had rushed from his head. “Get down, you blasted idiot!” and grabbing Kane by his arm he yanked him to the deck even as cannonballs ripped across the bulwark, throwing pieces of wood into the air.
The Praise was armed with only a dozen cannons, three on either side of the ship. They heard them go off below and the cannonballs tear through the enemy ship, but knew that it wouldn’t be of any use
The cannons turned downward, aiming at the hull of The Praise, and fired. T
he wooden frame was ripped apart, destroying the foundation and allowing water to spill within. It was only a matter of minutes before the ship sank.
“They’re boarding us!” someone screamed, and just then a man came flying over the bulwark to land on the deck, slashing at the crewmen with a curved sword.
Kane drew his own weapon and rushed at the pirates leaping onto his ship, cutting them down where they landed. He grabbed a weapon and tossed it toward Vexor, who caught it in trembling hands. “Get up and fight, you fool!” he said. “I didn’t drag you out of Valdorin to cower like a frightened dog!”
He turned around, blocking an attack, and was lost in the crowded deck of pirates and crewmembers of The Praise. Vexor got to his feet, his legs sour and stinging where they had been cut by shrapnel, but ran into action with the others nonetheless. He ducked beneath a sweeping sword, shouldering the pirate in the stomach and throwing him to the deck. He turned, leaving the man to the other deckhands, and parried a jab from another of them. Spinning round, Vexor cut the man across the leg, forcing him to drop to one knee as he grabbed at the bleeding wound, and then kicked him in the face.
He looked at the ship floating alongside them, more and more of the filthy brigands leaping onto their deck and slaying the crewmen. But his attention was drawn to a man standing at the stern of the ship, a hand resting on the steering oar. He was clad all in black, a dark hood pulled over his face so that only his mouth and chin were visible.
There was something forbidding about this man, whether the captain of the ship or a mere assassin hired by the pirates. He heard the booms of the enemy cannons fire at the hull of their ship again, wrecking the frame and destroying the foundation.
These pirates aren’t trying to loot us, he realized, they’re trying to sink the ship altogether!
Turning round he saw the mast begin to tip, creaking in the wooden planks as they were torn up beneath it. It leaned off the starboard side, the end of it ripping up the planks on the portside as it collapsed into the sea, sail and all. The enemy cannons turned up toward the bulwark of The Praise, the fuses lit and ready to fire.
He turned, running from the side of the ship, and grabbed Kane Leeson where he stood in combat just as the cannonballs exploded into the ship behind him. They hit the deck, the ship tipping sideways, water pouring into the holes in the portside. Vexor grabbed onto the railing of the starboard side, holding Kane in his other hand. The captain cursed as he clutched Vexor’s clothing, holding on for his life as the ship slowly tilted, almost vertical.
*****
“Fire when I give command,” said Minarch black bow, watching The Praise turn on its portside, exposing the deck of the ship to their cannons, crewmen from both The Praise and The Sea Snake falling into the water.
“My men!” cried captain Quill, “I’ll never fire those blasted cannons!”
“Do you wish to keep our agreement or not?” Minarch demanded, his tone even but firm.
“This was never part of our deal!” Quill replied, his face red with fury as he looked from his men and to the dark ranger steering his ship. How did he ever allow this to happen? “You’ve twisted my words from day one! All you said is that you wanted The Fallen, and I have taken you to him... Now you want to destroy the whole ship and kill every crewmember including my own! This is madness! I’ll never hold to my part of the bargain until I start seeing some profit on my part...”
Minarch sucked in a breath of air, closing his eyes. He whipped his dagger out from his cloak and slashed a very thin line across the captains face, shaving some of his beard. “You want profit?” he asked, almost musing, “The only profit you will gain is your life, foolish man. You should be thankful I am more tolerable than my mistress.”
The captain, his face suddenly going pale as a wave of fear filled him as the knife cut his face, and looked at the ranger with wide eyes. “Who... who is your mistress anyway?” he asked for perhaps the hundredth time after hear her mentioned.
Minarch only pointed his knife toward The Praise. “Fire the cannons!” he yelled above all the screams from the other ship.
Quill had to comply.
*****
Everything lost its sound as a ringing filled Vexor’s ears, The Praise breaking apart in below him, and the railing he held snapping under both his and Kane’s weight. They fell with a splash into the cold sea, the rumble of cannon fire sounding above them as they sank down into the depths thereof. Kane kicked his feet, rising above Vexor, and dragged the stupefied Fallen with him.
Their heads surfaced, gasping for air and coughing water from their lungs. Above them, what was left of The praise fell into the sea around them, sinking down into the water as it was filled with from the outside. Barrels fell over the side of The Sea Snake, tossed overboard by the pirates, the edges of them lined with flames.
Kane grabbed Vexor by his sleeve and dragged him back under, the first of the barrels erupting into an explosion of fire and splintered wood that scattered across the face of the water. It was done so that any survivor of the wreckage of The Praise would be killed by the exploding barrels. Pieces of wood hit them while they were below the surface of the sea, but not nearly at the speed that they would have been flung if above.
They swam below the water, only surfacing to take a breath and dive back down before anyone onboard The Sea Snake could see them. Once they were confident they were well enough away from the sight of the crewmen of the enemy ship, they found a large enough piece of driftwood from The Praise and climbed on top of it, lying on it as they fought to catch their breath.
Vexor propped himself on his elbow and looked back at the ship as it slowly sank into the water, the pirates moving off into the southwest along the shore, barrels still falling from its side to finish off those in the water. They did not seem to care for their own crew that could be floundering in the sea behind them.
He looked at Kane as he lay on his back, eyes open and staring up at the sky. “I’m grateful for you, Fallen,” he said under his breath. “I knew it when I saw it; you’d be a good deckhand, and a faithful servant of mine. I don’t regret taking you aboard.”
“The rest of the crew... I hope they had similar fates as us,” said Vexor, looking at the water as it lapped against the side of the driftwood. “I don’t know who did this, or why... but...” he stopped, a dark feeling coming over him.
They were looking for me, he said only to himself.
20
The Eye of the Demon
He awoke on the floor, cold water pooled beneath him and soaking his clothes, his skin damp and clammy as if he had been lying there for several hours without moving. It didn’t surprise him. He figured he had been unconscious for hours on end. But Neth’tek Vulzdagg also knew he had to get out of there, wherever he was, and find Dril’ead before something happened to his brother. Where had he gone, after all? Last he remembered was crawling into an alcove, in a sewer beneath Evenstar, Dril having gone the other way. And then...
The skeletons. They had attacked him out of the darkness, like the dreams he sometimes had during the night. Awful monsters.
He rolled onto his stomach and got to his knees, water dripping from his face as he lifted it from the ground. Had he been hurt? He checked himself for signs of injury but found none. Strange, he thought, looking up from where he had fallen, a fall like that would leave a man crippled.
And then he heard it, at first sounding like a faint breeze drifting down the corridor. But when it came again, he recognized the voice for what it was, and the words that it spoke.
One word. His name.
“Who’s there?” he asked the darkness, a tunnel stretching into blackness before him. “Who calls?”
It came again, distant and weak. It sounded more like a plea for help.
He got to his feet, feeling for his scimitars. Someone was in trouble. But to his surprise he found naught of his swords or the scabbards where he had worn them. How had he lost them? Suddenly, and as he looked around for
his weapons, he found he was in a different place. The stones that were below his feet were now raw earth, dry and warm. He heard crackling behind him, and turning round he saw a blazing fire and strange people standing about it, holding torches in their hands.
No, he thought, this can’t be real.
One of the people turned around, fixing red eyes upon him, and pointing it cried his name and they all turned round and rushed toward him. Neth’tek spun on his heels and dashed into the trees that were behind him; but found to his dismay that they were burning, a great fire having spread from the bonfire that the people had made, and consuming the whole wood.
But he tripped, falling into a pit and passing down into shadows. He landed in a pool of water that splashed upward as he sank down, straight down to the bottom of it. At the bottom he opened his eyes and looked at the floor. He saw himself, chained to the base of the pool, his eyes shut as white hair flowed round his head.
A hand fell over his shoulder, spinning him round. He saw Dril’ead, fury in his eyes as he looked at him. “What have you done?” he demanded of Neth’tek, his voice loud and clear despite being underwater.
Neth’tek pulled away, suddenly afraid, and swam into an alcove. He pulled himself out of the water and started running down a straight, narrow tunnel leading into darkness.
Behind him he heard Dril’ead falling in pursuit, swords scrapping the floor.
This can’t be real! This can’t be real! Neth’tek kept telling himself, his feet moving beneath him but bringing him no closer to the end of the long tunnel.
He felt Dril’ead grab him from behind as before, but when he was turned about he did not look into the face of his brother. Instead, he saw the eye of the demon Ulchar.
Neth’tek jerked backwards, hitting a wall and breaking free of the hallucination.
Oblivion: Part Five of the Redemption Cycle Page 11