The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1)

by David L. McDaniel

  “Get him!” Fyaa yelled, but no one responded. Ra-Corsh was working the spell and the gronts and soldiers were terrified. “You stupid human!” she cursed and she took to the air after Aaelie.

  At that moment, Ra-Corsh stood up and clapped his hands over his head. As he did so, a wave distorted the air and then spread throughout the space and down the alley. Azrull fell to his hands and knees, but he quickly began to recover, shaking the cobwebs out of his head.

  Alaezdar stood unaffected, stared at Ra-Corsh in front of him, and then turned to Fyaa behind him. Aaelie lay on the ground a few feet away from Fyaa. He saw Tharn, Morlonn, and Krostos all on the ground by Azrull, all unconscious, but Tharn looked like he might be starting to recover.

  Tharn shook his head once and started to crawl over to an unconscious soldier near him. He withdrew the soldier’s dagger from his belt and then climbed on top of Krostos’s chest and placed the dagger to his throat.

  Rage filled Alaezdar’s entire being and he could feel it pulse through his hand and into Bloodseeker. He knew the best thing he could do was to charge after Aaelie and save her from Fyaa, but his anger led him instead to Ra-Corsh.

  He ran towards him, raising his sword over his head, and when Ra-Corsh saw Alaezdar charging, he knew his first spell had had no affect on him. He raised his hands and worked another spell and an orange aura shimmered above Alaezdar’s head and then slithered through the air down onto Alaezdar’s hands. It wrapped tightly about his wrists and stopped Alaezdar’s hands from swinging the sword just as he had began to drop it down and crush Ra-Corsh’s skull.

  “I need help, woman! I cannot hold him here forever!” Ra-Corsh shouted, still concentrating.

  Fyaa jumped up, flew to Alaezdar, grabbed him from the back and wrapped her arms around his chest. He felt the back of his hair start to burn from her flaming skin and her fierce grip squeezed his ribs and caused him to lose his breath.

  His skin began to burn and his eyesight began to dim and sparkle from the pain and the loss of oxygen.

  “You are killing him!” Ra-Corsh yelled!”

  “I thought your power was supposed to prevent him from dying!” she said.

  As they spoke to each other, Alaezdar felt the spell weaken and her grip loosen. He realized that he still had his sword in his hand and he changed his grip on it to an overhand hold and tried to poke the flaming woman behind him. It proved to be too awkward a movement and instead the sword slipped out of his hand and fell to the dirt with a thud.

  Fyaa turned slightly to avoid the sword as it fell, and her movement gave Alaezdar a little room to elbow her repeatedly in her ribs until she let go of him. He turned around then and tackled her, knocking her onto her back, and he began to punch her in the face with his fists time after time.

  Finally he grabbed her flaming head and smashed it to the ground five or six times before Azrull came up behind them and kicked Alaezdar off her.

  Alaezdar rolled over on the ground, found his sword, and then located Ra-Corsh again. He was the one Alaezdar had initially wanted to kill, and he charged at him again.

  Ra-Corsh realized that he had no more spells or power over Alaezdar and that he was now a weak and helpless man. He turned and ran down the back alley and off towards the village center.

  Fyaa watched from the ground as Alaezdar ran away from her. She knew she could easily attack him again, but she also realized that any more aggression towards Alaezdar might kill him, so she let him escape.

  She wanted him dead, and she did not want him realizing who he was or, even more importantly, who she was to him, not yet anyways.

  “This is going to be too much fun!” Fyaa said and laughed as she stood up and began to alter her strategy. “Wait. The girl? Where is the girl?” Fyaa muttered to herself.

  ***

  “Krostos! Wake up!” Alaezdar heard Tharn say as he ran past the two of them.

  For a second Alaezdar came out of his blood rage to look at Tharn straddling his old friend. Tharn slapped Krostos in the face until he came to consciousness. His eyes were foggy, but as soon as he realized that it was Tharn on top of him, he started to get up. Tharn put his hand to his chest and pushed him back to the ground.

  Tharn raised his dagger and slowly plunged it into Krostos’ throat and began to slice from right to left and then up to the bottom of his chin. Blood squirted out of his throat and gave Tharn a warm shower all over his arms and chest. Krostos made a gurgling sound as he tried to speak before he bled out within the next few seconds. He dipped again into unconsciousness, and then into death.

  “This changes everything!” Azrull said to Tharn. He’d arrived too late to help the ambassador. “You could’ve had it so good. Now you can just suffer the consequences of your decision and live in this burned out village without our support.” He pointed at Tharn, stepped up within a few inches from his face and smiled. “You have actually done me a favor. Mount up, soldiers!”

  He ran from the bloody scene and left Alaezdar standing next to Tharn.

  Soldiers rose from their stupor and ran after Azrull. Those on horseback collected those on foot and they were all out of the village within a few minutes. Ra-Corsh too had escaped.

  Alaezdar looked at Bloodseeker, and the two smaller, extracted blades sucked up tight into the base of the sword with a single click. He sheathed his sword, but he felt frustrated, angry, and unsatisfied.

  Aaelie came out from hiding behind a building after having watched the whole scene and she began to run down the alley. Fyaa smiled.

  “There is more than one way to catch a swordsman,” she said and she flew to Aaelie and swooped her up. Aaelie screamed as her skin became singed from the woman’s grasp, and Fyaa took her out of the village and flew high into the sky on her way into the forest, where she found a massive oak tree and placed Aaelie on a strong branch.

  “Just hang there for a few minutes,” Fyaa said. “You can try to escape, but I will be back before you can get down. Or you can fall and kill yourself. Up to you. Either way, I will return for you.”

  Fyaa then took to the air and flew back to the village. Aaelie watched her fly away and then looked down and saw that she was indeed way too high to escape.

  Chapter 11

  Alaezdar and Morlonn looked around in shock at the devastation of their village and then saw the blood on Tharn as he held his dagger. They looked back again toward the village and saw the dead body of Krostos.

  Alaezdar stood there, just waiting for something more to happen.

  It did. Fyaa returned.

  “Time to go! Time is of the essence!” her voice came from the sky.

  The flaming witch flew over Alaezdar and Morlonn, just out of their reach. She hovered over them; her flaming wings flapping and dropping sparks to the ground, as she observed the two combatants. Then, without a word, she flew off. Alaezdar wasn’t sure -- because the fires were not putting off as much light as they had been earlier -- but he could’ve sworn that she winked at him.

  Many gronts were now running towards them, and many ran right past them as if they weren’t there, except one gront, still thirsty with blood lust. Alaezdar withdrew Bloodseeker again and prepared for the one gront’s charge. The Gront attacked Alaezdar, but he blocked the attack and countered back with a low stab, which the gront blocked as well. The two battled for several minutes until the war horn belched again, whereupon the gront stopped his melee, screamed a deep and loud pig-like squealed grunt, and ran away.

  Alaezdar dropped to one knee and watched the gront run. Morlonn was now finally becoming fully aware of his surroundings and he remembered the injured Rivlok. He tugged at Alaezdar’s arm and the two of them ran back past a few alleys to where they had last
seen him. They found him as they left him and still unconscious.

  “Is he even still alive?” Alaezdar asked over his shoulder while looking down at Rivlok’s body lying in the hard dirt.

  Morlonn wiped the blood from Rivlok’s head with his sleeve and then ran over to his knife, which was still in the dirt about five feet away. He used it to slice off Rivlok’s whole left sleeve, and he wadded the cloth and applied pressure with it to the left side of his wound. The wound had actually stopped bleeding and had begun to coagulate.

  “He will be fine,” Morlonn said. “It looks like he took a blow from the flat side of the sword. Once I dress this wound, he will be okay. He will just have a gigantic headache for a few days.”

  Morlonn cut more cloth from his shirt, applied it to the wadded cloth on the wound, tied it around Rivlok’s head, and secured it all in a tight knot so that it would continue to apply pressure. When he finished, he sat down and shook his head.

  So many thoughts were racing through his mind about what had just happened. How could their peaceful village have just suffered such a violent attack? He sat in the dark, listened to the crackle of the burning buildings, and smelled the smoke as they burned in the night. They had known they were always in danger due to their proximity to the Goblin Tribes Forest, but they never had anything of value that the tribes that resided in that evil tangle would want. Confused, he returned his thoughts to his friend Rivlok.

  “Why would they bother to attack him with the flat side of the sword and not kill him outright?”

  “Gronts will do that,” Alaezdar answered sharply. “When they know that they have outmatched their opponent, the kill then becomes a game to them and they like to see how many moves it will take to actually kill their opponent. The more moves it takes…the better.”

  Rivlok stirred and Morlonn put his hand behind his head and helped him to sit up gently and slowly.

  “Hello, my friend,” Morlonn said.

  Rivlok said nothing, but sighed deeply and reached for his head. He felt the drying wetness of the blood.

  “No…” he said, and then leaned back into Morlonn’s lap. “I lost.”

  Alaezdar smiled, stood up, and walked past Morlonn and Rivlok. Rivlok’s head wound was not serious. Even Alaezdar’s wound was not as bad as he had first suspected even though his left shoulder still had blood trickling down his arm and back. Alaezdar put his sword down tip first in the dirt and leaned the hilt against his hip. He took his right hand and ran it over the wound and with his index finger pulled away some of the skin flap. He felt inside the wound. It was only a shallow cut that one of the villagers, most likely Tharn, could easily stitch, but it would not need that for he could already feel his sword healing his wound from within.

  He had not realized the full potential of his sword, but he did know that often -- usually if the sword was satisfied with blood -- the power of the sword healed his minor wounds. Alaezdar sheathed his sword and applied pressure to his shoulder. While he did this, he looked at the village burning and the remaining townsfolk finally shaking loose their fear as they ran about putting out the fires in hopes of saving the remains of their homes and village.

  “This is even worse than it seems…” Alaezdar thought aloud.

  Houses, shops, barns, outbuildings, and booths burned throughout the village. Smoke choked the air and filled Alaezdar’s nose with ash as he breathed. Feeling a sense of dread, he walked away to try to find some sense of peace, or at least a hope that his newly found home and friends weren’t now completely devastated.

  He had only to walk around the first corner when his most dreadful feelings were confirmed. Lying in the street was a young boy with a wooden sword in his hand.

  “Rowlf!” Alaezdar yelled as he ran towards him.

  His shirt was soaked with blood from a single stab wound to his stomach. He was lying in a pool of his own blood and was near death. Alaezdar knelt down beside him and placed his hand behind his neck. As he did so, Rowlf’s eyes opened. He squinted, trying to see in the darkness and smoke. Somehow, even in his condition, he knew his rescuer.

  “Alaezdar?’ he whispered.

  “Look at you, Rowlf. There is blood all over you.”

  “Yeah, he got me good, he did,” he whispered.

  “No, you are going to be fine. It is gront blood all over you, not yours.”

  Rowlf smiled and choked and coughed up a little blood that trickled down his chin.

  “I did what you told me. I fought well, but he was just so big.”

  Alaezdar brushed Rowlf’s hair back with his hand.

  “You did well, my young friend. You will be a great swordsman yet.”

  Rowlf said nothing. His eyes glazed over, but he was still looking to Alaezdar for approval as he slipped away.

  Alaezdar laid his head down and stood up, still looking at the boy. Shaking his head, he clenched his fists.

  “Tharn, I told you no good would come of this,” he whispered to himself. “This will not happen again. I promise.”

  Alaezdar then leaned down to Rowlf, closed the boy’s eyelids, and stoked his hair again.

  “This is the second time, and I promise you, Rowlf, I will not let another child die because of me. I have to leave you now, Rowlf. Others will be by soon to take care of you and your other friends who died today. I am sorry. This is my fault.”

  “Alaezdar?” A dazed voice startled him from behind.

  Alaezdar turned around and saw Rivlok with Morlonn behind him. Rivlok’s head had started to bleed again from his not staying down and he held a bloody piece of cloth to it to stop the blood. He wobbled slightly as he walked and was still a bit dazed.

  “This is all your fault, Alaezdar,” Rivlok slurred. “That boy, the village, Aaelie, all of this is your fault!” Rivlok shouted and pointed his finger into Alaezdar’s face.

  Clenching his fists, Alaezdar took a step toward Rivlok. He was ready to pound his head right on his wound, but Morlonn stepped in between him.

  “You are right, Rivlok! This is all my fault. The wizard, the witch, the gronts, they are all here for me,” Alaezdar said, trying to restrain both his temper and his frustration. “Why they are here, I do not know, but I do know this…”

  Alaezdar pushed Morlonn aside, grabbed Rivlok’s shirt, swung him over his right hip, and threw him to the ground. As soon as he hit the dirt, Alaezdar was on top of his chest.

  “But I will be dead before you will ever get in my face to tell me what is or what is not my fault!” Alaezdar yelled in Rivlok’s ear.

  He grabbed Rivlok’s shirt by the collar and began to shake him so that his head bobbled back and forth, hitting the ground again and again. Morlonn jumped in, grabbed Alaezdar by his waist and pulled him off Rivlok.

  Alaezdar recovered his senses quickly and stood back up. He looked at Rivlok as he dazed in and out of consciousness, and then Alaezdar turned around and walked away. There were bigger problems to take care of now, he thought to himself.

  The gronts were now gone. Fyaa and Ra-Corsh were gone as well. They had seemed to make a very organized and hasty exit. He wondered what Fyaa had to do with Ra-Corsh and what Ra-Corsh had to do with the gronts. None of this made sense. All were unlikely partners for attacking an unlikely target.

  He had never seen Fyaa, or Ra-Corsh, but he did know of them. They were both enemies to the land. Any person of worth, especially swordsmen of hire such as himself, had heard of them, but no one had ever had heard about them working together. They were different beings with different motives. Alaezdar could not figure out their connection.

  Ra-Corsh, last Alaezdar had heard, had been the active henchmen for a group called The Staff of Torz, a gro
up dedicating themselves to finding the Ten Books of Magic, called the Compendium: Known throughout the realm as an eternal quest, not just by the Staff of Torz, but a quest by all the wizards of Wrae-Kronn.

  Although now only a handful of wizards existed, they searched incessantly for that ancient artifact, the Compendium, which held many of the missing keys to the mysteries of this world. Many in this world prayed that the Staff of Torz would not find the ten books.

  The Staff of Torz had destroyed villages in the name of their quest, had disrupted lawful expeditions and merchant caravans with their magic, and had raided their camps for supplies. Ra-Corsh was Torz’s right hand man. Torz had been a professor at the Wrae-Kronn Islands Fortress of Prophetic Studies until he had been banished from the islands.

  Ra-Corsh was himself a good part of the reason that Torz had been banished. He had been Torz’s best and most prized student. Ra-Corsh finished top of his class, and as was traditional for all of the top students in their class, he earned the right to look into the Floating Book to read and attempt to interpret the prophecy from it.

  Ra-Corsh, as had all the other top students before him, read the profound revelation to the future of the land. Then, shocked and overwhelmed, he tried to take the Floating Book from its stand, but found that the book was fixed to its position and would not move. Panic began to set in. He managed to do the next best thing he could think of and ripped out the pages that contained that prophecy along with some pages that contained very powerful spells. One of those was the Spell of Demon Summoning.

  Later, while supervising Ra-Corsh’s reading ceremony with a handful of other great Master Mages, Torz realized the immediate trouble that Ra-Corsh had just placed himself in, and he snatched up his student and disappeared with him in a flash. He left the island knowing they would never be allowed or able to return. Once they were safely away from the island and out of the Master Mages’ magic sight, Torz reprimanded his young and very unwise student.