“I know, but I can handle this,” he snapped.
More laughing until the scratchy voiced chrok spoke up.
“Then you need to follow us. We will take you through the catacombs where the elven dead sleep and live.”
“Yes…follow now...Oh, yes,” the other chrok said. “To the catacombs we will go.”
They both slipped into the darkness.
“Wait!” Alaezdar said. “We need to gather our belongings. Rivlok, Tharn, Morlonn! Grab all that we can carry. We will need all of our weapons more than anything else, so grab only what food we need for the next day or two.”
“But we are more than two days from home,” Rivlok said.
“I am not sure we will be returning. We just need to live long enough to reach Aaelie. Gartan, start grabbing what you need.”
Gartan did not respond, but stood still as if in a trance. Alaezdar walked up to him, put his hands on his shoulders and shook him slightly.
“Gartan! Let’s go!”
“I can’t,” he said, as if waking from a deep sleep.
“What do you mean, you can’t? We don’t have much time.”
“Alaezdar, what I mean is that we can’t. There is a reason why I have not been in these catacombs. I have been seeking Kronn my whole life, and I have known that the answers I seek are here, but I have never had the courage to seek them out from here.”
“Then stay. I don’t care. I think I am going to need you soon, but I can’t make you go,” he said and he turned his back on Gartan and pulled Bloodseeker from its scabbard.
He heard the familiar click of the small blades under the cross-guard snap into place with screaming urgency. His right arm surged with adrenaline as Kronn flowed into the sword. When the chroks heard the sound, they giggled with excitement like two young girls seeing an attractive young man. Before Alaezdar could take another step, they were standing within the torchlight and looking up into his face, smiling from ear to ear.
“Youu have magiiiic…” they hissed.
“Alaezdar!” Gartan shouted as if a terrible thing had just happened. “Stay away from them. Chroks absorb magic. That is how they live here unharmed amongst the wraeth’s.”
Alaezdar turned to Gartan, saw the fear on his face, and immediately noticed that his connection with Bloodseeker did indeed seem a little duller than before. He held up his sword to inspect it and noticing that the cross-guard blades had also retracted. That only happened when the danger subsided. He knew he was still in danger and that the magic must’ve been weakened in the presence of the chroks.
“Back away from me!” Alaezdar said and he shooed the two chroks away from him. The chroks backed away with hurt looks on their faces.
“We have to go now!” Alaezdar yelled. “Everyone, Gartan, stay or go. I do not care!”
“I will go with you,” Gartan said and picked up from the ground the items of his which they had dragged in from the horse.
Alaezdar, Rivlok, Morlonn, Tharn and Gartan looked at the chroks who still stood staring at Alaezdar like he was a piece of meat to eat.
“Move!” Alaezdar shouted to the chroks.
As if being awakened from a trance, they turned and walked quickly into the darkness and down a dark tunnel that sloped downward slightly. As they walked away, he felt a little of the tingle from Bloodseeker return.
They all walked for an hour into the dark tunnel, passing many different openings that led deeper into the darkness. They seemed to switch back toward the east and then to the west, then the north, then south. None of the directions they took made sense.
Alaezdar followed the chroks directly, but purposely fell behind some to test again if his sword’s power would return but then weaken, the closer he was to them. It ebbed and flowed constantly as he did so, making him nervous about the changing of the sword’s power.
Morlonn followed behind Alaezdar. Tharn held the torch behind Morlonn, and Rivlok was followed by Gartan, who stayed as far away from the chroks as possible. As they walked, Alaezdar began to feel fatigued and he realized that he had not slept much since they left Valewood.
His eyes closed numerous times as he walked and listened to the footfalls of the chroks so that he would not lose them. His head spun as he walked, but he remained alert enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He went on for a few more switchbacks until the chroks stopped, stood still for a few moments, and then spoke to each other in a different and unintelligible language. Soon they started walking again and one of the chroks spoke up.
“My name is Igs,” he said.
“Ohhh, yesss, my name is Smack,” the other said before laughing. “Nice to meet you.”
No one spoke again for another hour, until the chroks stopped again, stood in silence for a few minutes, and then turned to Alaezdar.
“Stay back,” Alaezdar told them before they could walk towards him.
“Wraeths,” was all the chrok said before he turned around and walked away.
“Follow,” the other said.
As they walked, they could hear what sounded like a river not far away with white water rushing by. The chroks continued while Alaezdar and the others followed, and as they did, they saw they were coming out of the cave and into an open expanse. The air was no longer stale and a hazy purple light now shimmered in the tunnel.
They continued walking until they came completely out of the tunnel, but the path dead-ended at a straight cliff drop overlooking a great open valley.
At first, they thought they were outside again. A small brook meandered directly below them, and up above they saw stars shimmering in a cobalt blue sky. Alaezdar looked closely and realized that it was only an illusion.
He didn’t know how he knew it was an illusion because to his eye, it was as real as he could see. For all he could tell, it did feel as if he were outside because the river rushing by created a slight breeze that invigorated him and made the air smell fresh.
“Alaezdar, this is the where the elves bury their kings and heroes,” Gartan said.
“This is not where we need to be,” Rivlok said as he walked up behind Alaezdar.
“I would never have guessed of this in my wildest dreams,” Tharn added.
“We need to be careful,” Gartan said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I don’t think we will be very welcome here.”
“Where did the chroks go?” Alaezdar asked when he noticed that their scrubby little friends weren’t around anymore.
“There!” Morlonn said.
He reached for an arrow behind him, nocked it, and took aim at one of the chroks as they ran across a small bridge across the river down below in the valley.
Alaezdar put his hand on Morlonn’s bow and lowered it.
“No. I have a feeling they are going to find us again.”
“What about the wraeths?” Rivlok asked and pointed his sword down at the valley. “They said that the wraeths were here.”
“Unfortunately, I have a feeling we will find them whether we want to or not,” Alaezdar said.
He sheathed Bloodseeker and pushed his way past Rivlok and Morlonn to the left side of the cliff’s edge. He looked down and found a small rope ladder dangling all the way to the valley floor. It was tailor made for the chroks, with two ropes entwined together to forming a ladder with rungs only six inches long and six inches apart.
“Well, this could be fun,” Alaezdar said.
He unbuckled his scabbard-belt, refastened it around his back, turned around and began his descent down the rope to the valley floor.
One by one, everyone followed him down the rope and assembled
at the bottom of the cliff. From there they walked across the stone bridge that went over the brook where they had last seen the chroks. After crossing, they were surprised to find that the surface they walked on felt like they were standing on soft ground, not hard rock.
Smaller streams, void of any large boulders, meandered through the soft grassy dirt in the center of the valley. There were a few small stones scattered which they could use to step on to cross and although the streams were small, many were big enough that they had to put at least one foot in the water to cross. Others were bigger, but none of them were more than two feet deep.
They walked unobstructed until they found themselves in the center of the valley, and they stopped there to figure out where to go next.
“Where are we supposed to go now?” Rivlok asked. He looked at Gartan and not Alaezdar for answers.
“I told you. I have never been here,” Gartan snapped, clearly nervous of these surroundings.
Tharn pointed to an archway on the far side of the valley which was nearly covered by a cluster of small pine trees that almost looked like bushes.
“I think we should start over there,” he said.
Morlonn nocked an arrow and let it loose, landing it in the clump of trees. Smiling, he winked at Alaezdar.
“Just checking for our chrok friends.”
“Let’s hurry then,” Rivlok said and he ran off towards the trees and archway.
He had only gone a few feet and jumped over another stream when he began screaming and twisting before being lifted off his feet. He hung suspended only a few feet above the ground, and as he did, his form began fading in and out for a few seconds before he fell to the soft ground, unconscious.
Alaezdar and Morlonn ran to him, but Gartan grabbed Alaezdar’s wrist and yelled for them to stop.
“It is a trap!” he said. “The wraeths are here. We can’t see them yet, but we will when they want us to.”
“Is he ok?” Alaezdar asked, snapping around to Gartan.
“For now he is. If the wraeths wanted him dead, he would be. I think they are just testing us to see what we want. The wraeths aren’t necessarily evil or malicious. They are just protective, with a slight bit of justified anger.”
“We have to do something,” Morlonn pleaded.
“And quick,” Tharn said and removed his sword from its scabbard.
“No, Tharn. Put that back. They will give us a signal soon enough,” Gartan said.
As soon as Gartan had finished speaking, a form materialized in front of them in the shape of an elven warrior dressed in leaf battle armor. He stood there staring at Alaezdar.
“The one with Kronn must come with us. Everyone else can leave,” he said as he lifted his bow and shot an arrow into the wall to his right. “Find that arrow and you will find an exit to the catacombs. Follow it and leave now.”
“What does that mean?” Morlonn asked.
As soon as he spoke, Alaezdar dropped to the ground like a boneless creature, and then he and the wraeth disappeared.
Immediately after they had disappeared, Rivlok began to stir and he stood up. “Don’t move, Rivlok!” Morlonn shouted.
“We need to get out of here!” Rivlok shouted back in terror, realizing where he was and remembering what happened. “Did you see that?”
“We didn’t see what attacked you, but we saw you. Are you okay?” Tharn asked.
“No, I am not. We need to go,” he said, shaking his head again like it was going to vibrate off of his shoulders.
Morlonn walked over to the small stream and stepped into it.
“Take my hand,” he said and reached for Rivlok.
Rivlok, now feeling a little silly, accepted the help, took Morlonn’s hand and stepped across the small stream.
“Now we should go,” Morlonn said and nodded to Tharn and Gartan. “Run to the edge of the valley by that rock face where the small pine trees were. We should find my arrow there.”
Everyone broke out running to where Morlonn was pointing even before he finished his sentence. Tharn, with sword ready in hand, and Gartan, armed only with a knife, ran to the marked area, but Rivlok’s sword was still in its scabbard as he sprinted in front of everyone else. Morlonn raised his bow, nocked an arrow and ran behind everyone, keeping his bow ready to fire at anything. It did not take long for something to appear, but it wasn’t another wraeth, as they had expected.
Five hunched figures came running towards them from out of nowhere. Morlonn could not tell what they were at first. They looked to be little more than shadows with short swords and shields. submersed in the hazy purple light and charging.
“Ravages!” Gartan yelled. He charged the first one, but not until he had nudged passed Rivlok to give him time to pull his sword free of his scabbard.
The ravages charged at them, grunting and yelling as they came. They were goblinoid, dog-like creatures with bodies covered in stubbly hair tightly woven within their skin in black and tan broken stripes. They looked more like disfigured creatures and they stood uncannily on their hind legs. They flashed their teeth with fierce intensity as they ran. Their incisors had been sharpened for effect and extended out from their mouths, waiting to taste blood.
Morlonn let his arrow loose and hit the leading ravage just seconds before Gartan encountered it. His arrow pierced its flesh in the upper chest just below its neck, wounding it. Gartan tackled it and landed on top of its body as it screamed, realizing too late that it had an arrow in its chest. Gartan plunged his knife into its chest just below the arrow just as another ravage took its sword and hit Gartan on the shoulder, knocking him off the other ravage. Gartan grabbed his right arm and screamed in pain as he fell off the ravage.
Tharn reached the ravage that had attacked Gartan and blocked its second blow just as it was about to plunge its sword deep into Gartan’s head. Morlonn sent another arrow and pierced its left shoulder. Tharn, taking advantage of the wounded beast, swung wide and sliced its throat. Blood spurted on Tharn’s face as the ravage fell and died.
The three remaining ravages, seeing the blood on Tharn’s face, began howling and making a sharp piercing sound that reverberated throughout the chasm. As they did so, they threw their shields to the ground, hunched down on all fours like dogs, and began grunting and yelling so deeply and loudly that the sounded more like vicious animals issuing a guttural barking as they attacked.
One of them jumped on Rivlok and knocked him down, bumping his sword out of his hand as he went to the ground. The ravage jumped on his chest and opened his maw to bite his throat out and take Rivlok’s lifeblood from him.
With both hands now free, Rivlok grabbed the head of the ravage as it snapped its jaws like a rabid dog right in front of his face. Drool came out of its mouth and pooled up in Rivlok’s eye socket.
Tharn and Morlonn both changed directions and went to Rivlok’s defense. Morlonn shot another arrow, but missed this time. Tharn ran towards the ravage, kicked it in the ribs, knocking it off of Rivlok, and then jumped over Rivlok’s body and plunged his sword into the side of the ravage as it rolled off Rivlok. The ravage moaned slightly and died.
“Get up!” Tharn yelled.
Tharn turned around and saw the two remaining ravages tearing into Gartan’s clothes and flesh. Gartan screamed as blood and ripped cloth splattered on the ravages. Morlonn sunk an arrow into the side of one of them as Tharn ran towards the other and sliced its spine nearly in two with one hack. It folded over and died on top of Gartan. Meanwhile, Morlonn had sunk two more arrows into the other, but it seemed not to notice and it took another bite from the side of Gartan’s neck.
Tharn took another swing at the remaining ravage, hit it in its side and then
pulled back and plunged his sword into its chest as it pulled away from Tharn’s first swing. The ravage barked at Tharn as if in defiance, but then it fell next to Gartan and died.
Morlonn placed his bow over his head and ran to Gartan seconds after Tharn had sheathed his sword and kneeled next to Gartan. He placed his hand behind Gartan’s neck and held up his head while applying pressure to the gash in his neck. Blood squirted in between his fingers as Gartan choked, opened his eyes and looked up. He realized that he would soon be breathing his last breath. What was left of his shirt was soaked with his blood and the ravage’s foul saliva.
He looked at Tharn and choked again, coughing up blood.
“Alaezdar…you can’t leave him in here. This is not a place for Kronn anymore.”
“We will find him,” Morlonn answered.
“My dragon…is it still on my eye?”
“Yes, it is,” Tharn answered, but as he did so, the tattoo on his left eye began to shimmer. The dragon uncurled, shook itself like a wet dog and then slithered into Gartan’s eye and disappeared. When it had left his face, Gartan choked once more and stopped breathing.
Morlonn bent over and brushed his cheek in a gesture to say goodbye.
“Your dragon is gone and so is your life, but you will be remembered,” he said.
He stood up and noticed that Gartan’s cloak had turned solid brown and lost its entire leaf-like pattern.
“I am sorry, Gartan, but I am going to take this.”
Gently, Morlonn removed the bloody cloak and put the hood on his head so that the cloak hung down his back.
“We need to go!” Rivlok shouted. He picked up his sword after Morlonn had taken the cloak off Gartan’s body.
“Yes, we do!” Morlonn agreed and ran towards the rock wall.
“Keep your sword in your hand this time!” Tharn reprimanded Rivlok like a commanding warrior might his subordinate soldier.
As the others ran to the rock wall, Morlonn bent over Gartan again and placed his hand on his head. He apologized for having to leave him there, but he felt at peace with that decision. This was a burial place after all. It seemed to be mostly filled with elven souls and spirits.
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 27