Overland Quest

by D C Ware

  He knew of the world called ‘earth’ from which much of The Overland had been borne. Of its great kingdoms called Rome, Greece, Persia, and Cathay.

  He knew of its God, from whom the worship of The One had come. A God with a name that could not be named “YHWH”. But with many names that were known such as: “Adonai” and “Jehovah”.

  And of the coming of his Son, Iesous and Yeshuhua, also called The Messiah and Ha-Mashiach, from whom such holy relics as The Resurrection Ring, the Peaceful Palms and the symbol of the cross derived their power.

  He knew of its great kings such as Caesar, Alexander, Darius, Constantine and Richard called ‘The Lionheart’.

  But he also knew of other worlds, other realms and other realities. Those hidden even to the peoples of that ‘earth’. Of the world of the Dwarves and Elves and of darker things. Places and peoples it was not permitted for men to inquire of or know in those times. Of the great Elven Kingdom of Icharion and of the mighty Dwarven Havens Heimdall against whom they often fought.

  The Dark Stranger would tease Matthew with these things, often openly laughing at him as he begged to know more. Matthew would cry, weep bitterly and even curse to know more, more, more!

  So it was finally, that the Dark Stranger revealed to the young Matthew how he could know more and not only know more. . . but he could know it all!

  But to obtain such knowledge he had to be tested. Tested to prove he was worthy.

  “I AM WORTHY! I AM WORTHY!” cried Matthew from his torment.

  “We shall see” was his only reply.

  But to take the test required a journey. And so it was again that a dark ship with a black sail on a black pole appeared off the coast of the Isle of Mist. The Dark Stranger led him aboard and straight to a quarterdeck where he was commanded to remain upon pain of the most horrible death.

  Food was left for him three times each day and means for his other needs but never did he see a crew member, its Captain or its cargo.

  After a journey shrouded in natural darkness and fog on evil seas stirred by a malice not of this world, they arrived at last at their destination. The Land of Boll’gar. Matthew knew that place instantly. It was the place of the foul things in The Overland and its evil menaced every continent from the Continent of Men and The Joint Kingdoms, to The Overland and King Overlord to Heaven’s Pillar and The Kingdom of Bozz and beyond.

  Boll’gar was the breeding place of trolls, orcs, goblins, gargoyles, gnomes, giants, rat folk, lizard folk, wraiths, skeletons, zombies, ghouls, elementals and some even said the Yeti - though they denied that such was true.

  Once upon the island Matthew and the Dark Stranger were met by a horde of such foul folk as could consume the world or at least so Matthew thought. Of all his life it was the first time that Matthew gave thanks to God and the King for men such as The Bane Knights and The Hard Rider Knights of The Joint Kingdoms and especially of The Paladins of Heaven’s Pillar.

  But to the Dark Stranger the abominations that greeted them were ‘his children’. He walked among them and graced them with his touch as a patriarch would his kin. And they reverenced and feared the Stranger. Finally, a wraith who appeared to be of immense power strode to the Stranger and they consulted briefly. Then the stranger turned and pointed directly at Matthew and laughed.

  Immediately Matthew was seized by a horde that broke away from the great assembly and he was carried through the host being gouged, spat upon, stabbed, scratched, bit and pulled upon as he went. He screamed. He cried. He tried to forsake his desire for knowledge. He tried to refuse ‘the test’ but he knew it was too late.

  At last, battered and bloody, Matthew was led to a fiery abyss that burned at the heart of that evil land. Not just fire but sulfur and red molten iron burned and blasted out. Minions who manned the structure that led to the abyss were killed at random when great gouts of fire and metal would burst from the belly of the abyss and they would scream and become no more than another burning stone or cindering liquid upon the mouth of the chasm. Only to be willingly replaced by more demented thralls to man the ramparts of the smoldering structure.

  Matthew screamed at the Dark Stranger who watched from a distance. Even he cautious of stepping too close to the fury of the abyss.

  “You told me I was to be tested!” Matthew yelled “tested not killed!!!”

  The Dark Stranger laughed “but ah Matthew, death is the ultimate test! And the sum of all knowledge. Besides if you are killed then you will have failed the test and proven not worthy of the things you sought. Throw him in!!!!” He screamed at last in a rage.

  Matthew screamed one last time but never felt the pain of his destruction as the heat of the abyss consumed him instantly. The last thing he saw were his feet and legs disintegrating into ash.

  But then he was awoke. Whole and unharmed back on the Isle of Mist. Back where he had first encountered the Dark Stranger. Nor had he been resurrected or otherwise ‘survived’ the abyss. He had never left the Isle. He was not only back where he was but back ‘when’ he was as well.

  Matthew was rescued three days later by a search party seeking crew members who might have survived the wreck of their sister ship. Matthew was returned to The Overland where Father Josias paid the debt to the ship’s captain for his safe conduct.

  Alas Matthew was almost content to accept he had dreamt it all. But eventually he realized he ‘knew’ things. Things he had no way of knowing how he knew them. Not only things that he had been told in his dream by the Dark Stranger but things beyond that that he could not possibly know. He confided these things to Father Josias who bade him harshly to tell no one of his ‘dream’ and to conceal the knowledge of any such thing that he learned in it.

  But it was not soon after these events that war came to The Overland. And not just The Overland but all The Lands. The Crimson Wars had begun with the great warlord Saladin Malice invading The Joint Kingdoms. Allegiances were required on all sides and for reasons he still does not know today, Matthew chose to ally with the forces of Bozz and its unconquerable warlord.

  The rest of his story from that point is known to all. How Matthew was renamed Morcai by the Great Warlord Saladin Malice and how Morcai’s skill and power in battle, as both a wizard and magician, had earned him the name ‘the bringer of fire’.

  Yet regrettably they had lost the war. The undefeated warlord was defeated and destroyed by Weapons of Power not even Morcai knew of; wield by guardians whose origins were shrouded in as much mystery as his.

  Morcai would also have surely died in that war if it had not been for the warlord’s support in securing Redrock Castle for him prior to his destruction. Support that was given in exchange for Morcai’s aid in invoking a terrible curse upon the land where the warlord fell as his ultimate act of revenge. A land now known as the Darkmen’s Domain.

  The same land from which The Lady had come. The Lady who was now back. . . In the Overland. And Morcai would know if after all these years, she was finally coming for him!

  Heymann’s men came galloping at the king’s knights from a trail leading out of The Infested Mountains. The knight in charge of Horatio’s men circled his men around him rallying them with his sword raised high on his mighty charger.

  He reared his horse and yelled “men and knights of the king, on me!”

  Dubois came at him with his axe swinging wildly. One of his men at arms tried to block Dubois with a polearm but Dubois ducked and drove his broad axe into the man’s neck. Without stopping he moved to the next two men-at-arms ramming his mount between them and swinging at either side bringing them both down with crushing swipes of his bloody axe.

  More men started to surround Dubois but Heymann’s men at arms had reached him by then and a general melee ensued.

  Heymann had a clear path for the knight in command. The knight saw Heymann riding at him and lowered his great lance to meet the Oathbreaker’s charge.

  Heymann had no lance and had no desire to test the tilt of this knight so* he
broke off his charge and rode into the skirmish viciously hacking Horatio’s men with his hand and a half sword “Malefont”.

  Seeing his men felled by the blade of Heymann and the axe of Dubois the commander knight had no choice but to discard his lance and draw his bright sword. He rode into the melee and began to set upon Heymann’s men. At first they thought to overwhelm him while Heymann and Dubois dispatched his men at arms but the power of his sword was too great. Stabbing, slashing, thrusting and cutting he brought more and more of Heymann’s men down.

  Dubois could see that less than six of their men still stood. Of the twenty five men at arms that they had charged he had killed six and Heymann had killed six but the leader knight and his fellow knights had taken a terrible toll on Heymann’s men-at-arms. Of the twelve only three still stood.

  Even as he was making his mental assessment Dubois noticed a lull in the fighting had occurred. Heymann was facing the leader of the king’s forces. Behind Heymann stood his three men at arms and Dubois. Behind the commander knight stood his fellow knight and ten of their men.

  The commander knight spoke.

  “Nemesis Knight, I am Sir DavenPo “The Proud”. Bane Knight and Lord of Heroe’s Bane. Surrender. You cannot stand. You are outnumbered and were you ten times as many still you could not prevail.”

  “Sir Davenpo”, said Heymann with scorn. “I am Heymann ‘Shieldbreaker’. Servant of the Lord of Fire Castle and Captain of the Nemesis Knights. And you know I will not yield.”

  “The Oathbreaker?”

  “I have never answered to that name.”

  “Nonetheless, you are the Oathbreaker. In which case there will be no parole. Defend yourselves and prepare to meet your deaths!”

  This time Heymann and his men formed into a circle. Dubois dismounted to fight on foot with the men at arms. Heymann sat atop his horse in the center.

  Just as Sir DavenPo’s men were starting to move past him and break into their charge, the knight raised his right hand signaling them to stop.

  Through the pass that Heymann and his men had come upon them, Sir DavenPo now saw a force of some fifty men in tattered clothing, wild haired and wild eyes. Bodies marred by incessant flagellations. It was the “Sons of Cain”. The excommunicated warrior monks of Morsh Monastery.

  They had not been seen outside of the Darkmen’s Domain in many decades. With them was there leader, Friar Damian - “The Breaker of the Bells”.

  Sir DavenPo had discovered what he and Horatio had set out to determine when word of a host from the Darkmen’s Domain moving through the kingdom had reached them. He now knew who that host was and who was leading it. The Lady Gabriel. Paramour of the king. This was news that had to get to the other Bane Knights.

  “King’s men!” He yelled, turning his horse around by the reins, “to Rebel’s Bane! Follow me!” and they rode off.

  Heymann and Dubois looked at each other and exhaled just as Friar Damian rode up to their circle.

  “Captain Heymann?” he said, not taking note of the king’s forces riding off.

  “Yes friar?” Heymann replied with much more appreciation for the dry monk than before.

  “Captain, the Lady Gabriel has decided to accept your lord’s invitation to Fire Castle. She ‘sent me’ to instruct you to take the news to your lord and prepare for her arrival.”

  “Well that is much appreciated, I am sure friar. And did she send those fifty zealots with you to help bring that message.”

  “You mean ‘the Sons of Cain’. No the Lady did not send them. That was my idea.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Troubled Waters

  Midas staunched the wound the best he could but Boris kept complaining that he wanted a healing potion.

  “Look constable, I told you I only brought three partial potions and three total healing potions with me. If we get into a serious scuffle we may need all of them just to recover from that.”

  “Am I to take that to mean, the assault I just suffered was not serious Healer?”

  “I am not saying that but the merchant had every right to not let you see his goods. The fact that you insisted and his escort caught up and roughed you up a bit does not mean your life was ever in danger.”

  “Roughed me up a bit alright, the big fellow without a weapon threw me around like a straw doll. But mark me I will remember him, I heard one of them call him by name.”

  “Let it be Boris. We have to get back on the trail if we want to make The Lost Men’s Camp by night. I’d prefer not to sleep outside again.”

  “Be that as it may I still heard them call him Grund and I won’t soon forget his face.”

  Midas made the last tie in the bandage he had applied to the cut across Boris’ chest and stood up.

  They had decided to take the less traveled shortcut through the Swallowing Swamps to get to The Lost Men’s Camp sooner than they would have if they had skirted them. With Midas being a healer the usual sickness and disease one risked traveling in the swamps was minimized. The danger on the other hand was something Boris said he could handle. But after his dust up with the traveling merchant Midas made him agree that they would avoid any more encounters if they could while in the swamps.

  Truth be told, it was not really Boris that was bothering Midas. Ever since they had departed Milestill he was thinking about his reunion with Father Wilmont. Most people that knew Midas knew that he had apprenticed at Morsh Monastery under Father Wilmont. Most also assumed that he had completed his Healer training and had then made the decision not to study as a Cleric.

  The truth was that Midas had completed his healer training but he ran away shortly afterward before his training as a Cleric was to begin. He never told Father Wilmont at the time why he had run away but some months later when the Father’s warrior acolyte, Kai, tracked him down he revealed to Kai that he could never be a Cleric. He revealed that he could never be a Cleric because he had done the one thing no Cleric could ever do - he had killed a man. Of course Kai had pressed him because, like Kai, Midas had come to the monastery when he was only twelve years old.

  “What man could you have killed at the age of twelve?” Kai asked.

  “Kai, I killed my father.”

  Midas never knew whether Kai told Father Wilmont that he had found him or why he had left. But now, coming back to Morsh Monastery, Midas did not see how he could not reveal it. And if Kai had already revealed it, Midas did not know how Father Wilmont would greet him. Father Wilmont had always treated Midas special and had taught him certain Cleric’s wards and arts that he was not entitled to know. Midas now feared that his secret had not only corrupted his vows but those of the father as well. If so, Midas deserved and was prepared to accept whatever sanction the father chose to impose on him. The best he could hope for in that instance was that he could obtain the information he and Brufson needed before that came to be.

  Lyla was frustrated. She had not had any luck selling the compass and she was beginning to worry about Tristan. Maverick had not been any help at all. He had stationed himself at the tavern since they arrived in the town and had not left it in the two days they had been here.

  The Ranger and his companion had set off on their own matters within the town and the only one to remain by her side was Oxley. And she was sure he had only stayed to make sure he got paid. Still it was nice having him with her. Speaking of Oxley, he was returning from making inquiries about the compass at the local lodge. Something he had volunteered to do, after Lyla had told him the real purpose of the trip once they had been joined by Maverick.

  “Any luck Oxley?” Lyla was sitting on a log at the dock. Half kicking stones and half fidgeting with the compass.

  “Maybe. The innkeeper wants to see what the compass can do?”

  “What do you mean he wants to see what the compass can do? It’s a compass. It doesn’t ‘do’ anything but point.”

  “Well I sort of told him that it was a ‘special compass’ ”, Oxley shrugged his shoulders as Lyla shot a lo
ok up at him.

  “ ‘Special’ how?” Lyla asked suspiciously.

  “I don’t know Lyla. I had to say something. We have been here two days and we can’t even get someone to look at the darned thing.”

  “Well okay, I will take it to him but don’t blame me when he discovers that all it does is point like any other compass.”

  Lyla stood and dusted off her hoses. Her and Oxley walked together to the lodge.

  The innkeeper was busy brooming the reception area when they entered so they stood and waited for him to get to a point where he could stop and acknowledge them.

  “Hello”, said Lyla.

  “Hello to you as well lass. Are you the one with the special compass?”

  “Well sort of. I mean I have a compass for sale but what’s special about it can only be noticed by an experienced mariner. I mean you are welcome to look at it but I just didn’t want you to think we were wasting your time.”

  “Well that’s really considerate of you lass, but being that I made my living on The Southern Waterways for twenty years before buying this lodge, I think if there is anything ‘special’ about it I will know. Now hand it here before you really do start to waste my time. If you don’t mind that is.”

  “Oh not at all.” Lyla removed the burgundy and brass compass from her shoulder sack and handed it to the innkeeper.

  “Might I ask your name sir?” She asked trying to make small talk while the innkeeper inspected the compass.

  “People call me Gilbo,” he said without taking his eye off the compass.

  “Oh that’s a nice name”, Lyla looked at Oxley to try and gauge what he thought the innkeeper was going to say about the compass. Oxley just shrugged. Lyla frowned at him and crossed her arms and turned around and waited for Gilbo to finish his inspection.