Cursed Cleric

by Salvador Mercer

  “I understand,” Khan said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I will bide my time until I can rectify matters myself, no matter the personal cost.”

  “I have no doubt that you will.” Elister said. “You remember what we discussed before? Are you still willing to risk your life, a personal sacrifice, in releasing the Arnen from her eternal slumber?”

  Khan nodded, “I will do so once we have completed our quest here.”

  “Good,” Elister said. “If you survive, then I will owe you a debt that I can never repay. Time is short. I have more work to do with the undead that even now enter our domain. I have sealed your critir so that it will channel back to the Earlstyne Forest. I suggest you leave so until you know you have need of it elsewhere.”

  “I will,” Khan said.

  “Fare thee well then for now,” Elister said, his image fading and then vanishing altogether.

  The light of the critir dimmed and the group found themselves huddled in darkness. No one asked for light and no fire had been lit due to them being in the wild lands adjacent to the Dragon Lands. After a few moments, Cedric asked Khan, “What did he mean by personal sacrifice?”

  Khan sighed before taking in a deep breath of air and explaining. “Long ago, one of the Kesh’s most powerful mages assaulted a realm far to the northwest of here. In doing so, the mage poisoned one of the Arnen from Elister’s order and she went into a sort of deep sleep, a coma if you will. She was laid to rest in a druid holy place never to awaken unless by the sympathy and magic from a Kesh mage.”

  “Salina asked, “I heard you discussing this long ago. Is this from Elister’s youth?”

  “Somewhat,” Khan said. “It is part of his history as an initiate during the last Great Dragon War.”

  “But that was like a thousand years ago, right?” Will asked.

  “Indeed,” Khan said.

  Will shook his head and Cedric said, with awe in his voice, “This is amazing. He’s like a walking library book.”

  “Why does this involve a risk to your life?” Cedric asked.

  “Because,” Khan began, “if I understand the druid correctly, I need to be as powerful as a mage to counter this magic. I also need to be strong enough to filter the poison through my staff and system.”

  “If you’re not?” Cedric pressed.

  “Then I will die,” Khan said. “Thus the druid’s words about self-sacrifice and personal risk.”

  “Is it really necessary to do this?” Salina asked. “I mean, what if you refused or declined this task?”

  Khan shrugged. “If he speaks the truth then when Akun and the passing have completed, the druid will fade to dust and there will be no more Arnen in Agon.”

  “That sounds kind of serious for something you had no part in,” Salina said, her voice bitter.

  “You are most kind to think of my well-being,” Khan said, gracing her with a smile to show her his appreciation. “However, I think we all understand now the importance of having someone of Elister’s knowledge and wisdom available to those who live in the realms of men upon our world of Agon.”

  “Some traditions deserve keeping,” Targon said.

  “What about this Astor cleric we’re trying to free?” Salina asked.

  Cedric spoke up, eager to share what he knew with his mother, “She was a Fist of Astor. A special type of cleric who was a female warrior. Their order died out as well during the great war and they were never heard from again.”

  “That sounds sad,” Salina said.

  “It probably was,” Khan added. “There are a great many things that have changed over the last thousand years. It is a wonder that we know about them at all.”

  “So, I’m sorry if I change the topic,” Targon said, “but if I heard correctly we’ll need to wait here for two nights before Argyll can find us and lead us to the crypt of this holy warrior?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a crypt as much as a place,” Cedric said.

  “Either way, we’re going to be wasting time again. If so, then we should find a better shelter that will allow us a campfire and some protection from the elements. I sense another storm is brewing to the north and will be here by late tomorrow. It won’t do for us to sit and wait for it.”

  “We can certainly do that as long as we do not stray far from this place,” Khan said.

  “Good, then I’ll scout us a place and we’ll move, even in the middle of the night.”

  “Agreed,” Khan said. The others chuckled.

  Targon took only an hour to find a semi-hollow depression in the cliff wall of one of the ridges that reached out from the mountain chain to their south. The hollow was nestled amongst many conifer trees and better yet was the fact that several large boulders had fallen from the top of the ridge and laid strewn about forming a sort of barrier for their new-found camp. The ranger also collected firewood and they started a campfire that could still be seen, but only at closer range.

  They slept in turns that night and then spent the day scouting about and discussing history and warfare depending on who was more motivated at the time. Will and Targon seemed most interested in the military aspect of history while Cedric and Khan were interested in the politics as well as overall history of the realms. Salina had an interest in both and especially the order of Astor.

  The rest did them good as they spent a second night in the wild lands far to the north. Will’s face started to show signs of pink, indicating that it was healing, and the bruising was subsiding from his encounter with the ghost. Khan had the chance to restore his own energy levels as he was often counted on to provide light or guidance to the group during discussions. Cedric especially kept the Kesh man busy answering questions until late into the night.

  Salina would not speak of her husband, but she would stand and face southwest often in the direction where they had come, and it was obvious her thoughts were with her mate. Occasionally the pair, mother and son, would leave the camp and walk a short way away to discuss something personal and then return again. Their demeanor was sully and short.

  They took turns for the last night keeping watch and when dawn broke, the snow falcon was gliding high above them making lazy loops in the air but always more so towards the northeast. The bird would not land this day and they knew they would need to keep up and head in the direction it would lead them.

  After travelling for two more days they came across something they had never seen before. A mountain that glowed red from its inside and a large, flat plain that was black as night despite the sun shining brightly overhead. Salina was the first to comment on it. “That is what I think it is, right?”

  “Well, mother, if you’re thinking it’s a volcano then you’re probably right.”

  Khan added with his usual matter-of-factness, “You are both correct. The red glow is coming from inside and is known as lava while the black plains surrounding it is known as a lava field.”

  “Thanks for the geology lesson,” Will said, giving Khan a pat on his back.

  Argyll screeched and then flew off south at a high rate of speed. They watched until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon and then they turned their attention north again at whatever it was that had startled their feathered guide. Targon had the best eyes of the group and exclaimed, “You can’t be serious.”

  “What is that thing flying right at us?” Salina asked, holding her hand up to her forehead to get a better view.

  Khan knew instinctively what it was. “That, Lady Salina, is a red dragon.”

  Chapter 17

  Confluence

  Their journey had been difficult. They had to cross the northern mountain range which, on the western end at least, was not as high as the same range was north of Korwell. Still, the going was tough, and they spent valuable time travelling vertically, both ascending and descending the many rugged ridges and low passes of the mountain’s peaks in an effort to keep pace with their target.

  After several days they made their customary light
camp and huddled against the cold. Malik was the first to notice and informed Bran. “We are not only following but are being followed as well.”

  “You are sure of this?” Bran asked, too tired to do more than wrap himself in his bedroll and keep his cloak wrapped round his body to maintain its heat.

  “I’m positive,” Malik said. “Whoever it is caught up to us the day before yesterday.”

  “You know who it is, don’t you?” Bran asked.

  “I suspect,” Malik said. “Though after everything we’ve been through it’s a mystery to me why she would do this.”

  “You said it when we left,” Bran prodded the Ulathan scout’s memory. “You said she would find us because of what you have and what that thing back in our realm wants with it.”

  “Perhaps I’m either underestimating her, underestimating Azor, or overestimating myself. Either way, I would have thought for sure that she’d make contact with us. The fact that she didn’t bodes ill for our collective futures.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong and she’s not even out there.”

  “No, she’s there,” Malik said, looking at the ridgelines around them. “She’s very good at being stealthy, that would be a given for her trade, but…”

  “But what?”

  “She’s still from the city and I’m born and bred of the wild. I can’t pinpoint her exact location yet, but I know she’s nearby.”

  Bran nodded, “Then perhaps she’s also underestimating you?”

  Malik shrugged, “Could be. Soon, we’ll find out what she’s up to.”

  “I sense we are close. We should try to close with them tomorrow.” Bran rolled over and positioned his body for sleep. “I don’t fancy a Balarian thief with an axe to grind anywhere near my wife.”

  Malik nodded, “You shouldn’t.”

  The next day dawned clear and the pair started off at a quick pace. After following several ridgelines they found themselves cresting a particularly high one and looking down upon a black plain with a volcano far off in the distance. Even from that far away, and during the middle of the day, the red glow of its lava tucked deep within its belly was evident to any onlooker within leagues of the mountain top.

  “Damn, I had no idea this even existed.” Bran looked in awe at the spectacle of nature.

  “You never heard of volcanos?” Malik asked, looking at his companion.

  Bran shook his head, “In history books about the end of the world, maybe. But we never really discussed them outside of fairy tells and ancient history lessons.”

  Malik suddenly removed his pack and set it in front of him. Opening it, he rummaged through it until he found the scepter that he had taken from his belt and secured in his pack during their quick marches. He wanted it safe but without slowing his pace as his gait demanded long strides and with the rod tucked in his belt, it both hindered and chafed him over long distances. “Good,” Malik said, tucking it back and wrapping it in its covering.

  “What is it?” Bran asked, watching with interest.

  “I felt something strange coming from the rod,” Malik said. “It was like an urge gnawing on the back of my mind. I felt compelled to see the rod, to touch it and make sure it was safe and secure.”

  “That sounds odd,” Bran said, frowning in the process.

  “It is odd,” Malik said. “I’ve never felt this before, that’s why I had to comply, but what it means I don’t know.”

  “Well, if you—”

  Malik pulled Bran down to the ground where they were nestled amongst the snow and black rocks sticking out of the ground. Malik hissed, “There, to the north, do you see that?”

  Bran squinted and shifted his weight since he was pulled on top of a pile of smaller, black, volcanic rocks which were anything but comfortable. “I don’t see anything.”

  Malik turned his head to look at him and then hissed again, “Not on the ground, look above the horizon, about a third of the way from the volcano towards where that grouping of thunder clouds are forming.”

  Bran complied saying, “By Agon and all that his holy, I see a dragon.”

  “Yes,” Malik said. “It’s headed south.”

  The pair looked to their right and not far away, perhaps a half league at most, though certainly out of shouting distance, was a small group of people standing along the peak of a ridgeline looking north. They couldn’t help but see the dragon. “Is that them?” Bran asked, struggling to distinguish the group who looked smaller than even the tiniest of ants from his vantage point.

  “There,” Malik risked pointing at the group. “The last figure on the right.”

  A hint of blue shone through for a second as if the figure had turned to face them and then it disappeared just as quickly. The blue reminded Bran of Salina’s dress. He could only think of the vision he saw. “We must save her, now!”

  Malik was much stronger even without the magically enhanced bracers, and he pulled Bran back to the ground. “You can’t do anything for her except to die if with that dragon nearby.”

  “No,” Bran struggled against his companion. “Let me go. Even you said it was my duty to bring her back to your master alive to fulfill my oath.”

  “I did, but perhaps this is more merciful to her.” Malik said. “Look, they’ve seen the dragon now.”

  “Wait a second, who is the figure next to her?” Bran asked.

  “I don’t know, but the large figure out front seems familiar to me,” Malik said.

  “Could that be your brother?” Bran asked.

  Malik’s eyes went wide, and he started to stand but Bran grabbed him and said, “Hang on a second. What did you just say about a dragon?”

  Malik allowed himself to be pulled down, but he was almost ready to stand, bringing the Ulathan captain to his feet with him. “That was different. This could be my brother. We need to get closer and confirm our suspicions.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Bran said. “Let run to that ridgeline there, the short one that’s next to theirs. We should be able to see them better even though it’s lower than the one they’re on.”

  “Too late,” Malik said.

  Bran looked back and saw the dragon beating its wings fiercely. It seemed to either have noticed the other group or it knew there were intruders in that direction. No matter how it knew, or what it knew, it’s flight path would take it directly, or fairly close, to them. There would be no way for them to reach the other group before the dragon did. “What do we do?” Bran asked.

  “Damn,” Malik said, pounding the snow and rock in front of them in anger. “We run to them and find out for sure. If we’re too late, then so be it, but one or more of them may survive somehow.”

  “Lead the way,” Bran said.

  The pair of men leapt to their feet and started off down the ridgeline towards the other group. The dragon would easily beat them there, but they both felt the urgency since they may have family there and they could think of nothing else other than trying to save them even if their emotions were not willing to look at the situation pragmatically.

  Neither man noticed the slim, white cloaked figure a few hundred yards down their same ridgeline as it darted from one snow mound to another tracking them and trying hard to keep itself concealed. The figure had also seen the dragon, but oaths were hard to break even in the face of imminent death.

  Kaz’s clan, the Eagle Clan, was smaller than it used to be after the battles in Ulatha. By Hermes’ reckoning, it was nearly halved when counting capable fighters. There were many widows and children and the clan would need an infusion of new blood if it were to survive the coming decade within its own system with respect to other clans.

  Hermes didn’t fully understand the nuances of clan diplomacy, but he understood that they needed to go north and partner with another clan that was close to the Eagle clan by blood. It would appear that at least two generations ago, the leaders of the two clans had married their children together forming a strong bound. This meant that Kaz had a cousin who was leading
the other clan and he could count on this clan for support due to its blood ties.

  “So is it really known as the Owl Clan?” Hermes asked the scout who rode alongside him as an interpreter. Hermes had learned the man’s name was Baku.

  “Yes.”

  “Why an owl?” Hermes asked. “I mean, I understand an eagle, they can be fierce predators and soar high above the ground. An elegant bird and capable symbol for any clan.”

  “Owls are wise,” Baku said simply.

  “Not where I come from,” Hermes said.

  “How so, Kesh?”

  Hermes cleared his throat and sat higher in his saddle. “Where I come from the owls live in trees and sometimes in barns eating and catching mice when stupid farmers and ranchers are too lazy to shoo them away. It is hardly wise to sit in a barn and eat a mouse.”

  Baku spat on the ground in front of where Hermes rode then looked at the man with contempt. “The great owl thinks first and then acts. It is wise and intelligent unlike the other predators. Perhaps you have not seen an owl at night during its hunt?”

  Hermes looked at the man with his own contempt, but the man was right. As a Kesh wizard he really didn’t concern himself with watching the local wildlife, especially during the night. He was a wizard and had more important matters to attend to, but the man’s reaction gave Hermes enough pause to temper his reply. “No, I have not seen an owl hunt at night. Perhaps you know more about them than I do, but I was simply being honest with you.”

  “Good,” the man said. “Kaz said you’re a bad liar. Best to be honest with us, though you can also keep your stupid thoughts to yourself.”

  “No need for offence,” Hermes said. “I will temper my observations with you in the future.”

  The other man had no time to answer as a commotion came from up ahead where Kaz and his leaders rode on a dozen horses. The remaining warriors, both men and women, along with the women and children not dressed for combat, were all on foot. “Stay here,” Baku ordered.