Legend of Ecta Mastrino Box Set 2

by BJ Hanlon

  The sergeant pulled his long knife and stabbed the man in the chest. “Sorry,” he said as he pulled it out. “I am sorry.”

  A gasp. “Did you just kill Maise?” the kid asked.

  “Put him out of his pain, lad. He wasn’t long for this world.” Then the sergeant turned to Edin, “we’re missing two men, Vistach and his son.”

  “Berka,” Edin said and looked around.

  “I do not like leaving men in the field if there is a chance they live.”

  “What about the bodies?” Edin asked, “Will you bury them or take them back to the city?”

  “This is war. We leave them.” Then the man turned back. “We go forward. Faasern, any chance you know where the other two went?”

  An older man, mid- to late-forties came forward. “Two horses fled that way.” He pointed a bit more north and east of their position. “They were chased but I don’t think they’d have been caught.”

  “Why?” Edin asked, “What makes you—”

  “They’re on horseback, those demon blotards were on foot.”

  “Good enough,” the sergeant said, “saddle up, we’ll follow.”

  “What about the traps and the magical wards?” They’re all throughout the wood,” the kid said.

  “We be careful.”

  Edin nodded; obviously he knew they had to be very careful.

  They followed Faasern who led his horse and stayed in line of the fleeing horses and dematian steps. “Trap,” Fassern said and pointed to a dematian that looked to be almost in perfect health, but its eyes were wide open and there was no movement from its body.

  “Better be safe,” The sergeant said and used the knife he’d used on Maise to pierce the dematian’s chest.

  The path cut left through more trees and went for another hundred or so yards. Then a large, dark mound appeared before them.

  Still using his ethereal ball, he stared around looking for any sign of Berka or Vistach.

  A moment later, he heard a voice calling his name.

  Weak and filled with liquid. Edin was stunned for a moment and didn’t move. There was something ghostly within the voice that froze him and sent chills up his spine. He couldn’t help but think of death. Or near death.

  Edin leapt from the horse and started toward the body that was near the mound. But it wasn’t a mound, it was a small tumbled hut. Stone blocks littered the ground and it looked to be a mere large gust of wind from falling over.

  “Vistach,” Edin ran up next to him and dropped down to his knees. He put a hand to Vistach’s chest and came away with blood. There was more travelling down his cheek from a great wound on his head that looked like a dark watermelon had been smashed.

  Edin lifted him to a seated position and leaned him against the collapsing stone hut. He closed his eyes and took the stones with his talent and made them form to a solid wall.

  Someone gulped behind him.

  “What happened? Where’s Berka?”

  “Dead demons,” said the sergeant. “At least eight.”

  “Ambush,” Vistach said, the word trailing off as if it were heading over a waterfall.

  “More tracks lead off this way,” said Faasern. “The horses split. One north, one south.”

  “Which way did Berka go?” Edin asked.

  “Told him,” gasped Vistach, “leave…” he gulped, “…me.”

  Edin knew Berka wouldn’t do that willingly. “Which way?”

  “That,” he said lifting a shaky hand and pointing further to the north.

  “Why didn’t he go back to the city?” one asked. “Blasted northern morons.”

  Edin didn’t move at that but Vistach growled something that sounded like ‘lesson,’ and suddenly he tried to stand. He groaned and fell back.

  “Don’t,” Edin said.

  “We gotta put him out,” said the sergeant.

  Edin for a moment didn’t hear the words but the knife being pulled from its sheath was distinct and woke him. He blinked for a moment and saw Vistach’s eyes glazed over but determined.

  “No, I can save—”

  “You can’t,” said Vistach. “My stomach was pierced.” He gasped this but seemed to be growing in strength. “You do it,” he said.

  Edin then felt the man’s hand on his. A giant hand belonging to a giant of a man in stature and character. Then there was focus in his gaze and then the hilt was in front of his face. Edin stared at this father-like figure from his days in the soft quiet meadows and fields and forests of northern Resholt.

  The nights when he’d round up vagrants and troublemakers. Usually multiples at the same time. He was a superhuman. That was what Edin thought back then.

  Seeing him like this did not meld well with his memory and his eyes began to tear. He blinked and a wall of water was before him like a shade to the ethereal light. Edin wiped his eyes.

  “Do not,” Vistach whispered and reached up to take the knife from the sergeant. Then it was pressed into Edin’s palm. “I killed your mother, for that I deserve to die by your hand.”

  Edin shook his head. “No,” he spat. The tears were running now faster and further.

  “Back ‘er up, let’s make a perimeter around them. Eyes open for attack,” the sergeant called out. “And don’t step on any blasted mage traps.”

  Edin’s hand clenched on the hilt of the knife and he felt the cold clammy hands of the constable over his own. They were weak so clamp wasn’t right, more like caress. Edin could barely see.

  His hands, still clenched on the weapon’s hilt, were turned slowly until the blade was pointed at Vistach’s chest. Edin blinked again and saw those deep green eyes.

  They were determined, they were resolute.

  “Please,” Vistach said, “tell them I love them.”

  Edin nodded. He took a breath, a very deep breath, and his mouth or throat or something made a noise that would’ve been embarrassing any other time. It was a squeak or honk almost, but Edin didn’t care. He felt Vistach’s hand tighten over his own.

  “Now,” he whispered.

  Edin yelled and thrust. It pierced the man’s leather jerkin and into the heart. Edin looked again and saw the fire behind the eyes dull.

  Edin closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to Losilin. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. Not for Horston or Merset, not for Grent or Dephina, though they hadn’t actually been dead.

  Then he stood. He had to follow Berka’s trail, though he had little hope his friend was alive.

  Edin mounted the horse and without any words, began to follow more tracks. At the edge of the ethereal light Edin spotted a dematian body in a tree. Protruding from its chest was a stumpy branch. It looked like the tree grew up from inside it.

  A mage trap.

  Then the forest slowly began to fade and a meadow appeared and it became deadly silent.

  Despite the growing stalks of grass, it felt otherworldly. The only light was the ethereal ball and torches. The wind had ceased and no bugs were about.

  The soldiers were silent as if they were entering a grave.

  The tracks soon seemed to peter out. Edin kept going for a few more steps.

  “Where’d they go?” Edin called out, breaking the silence. Some of the men sat upright as if he’d just broken a cardinal rule of the meadow.

  Faasern moved up toward him and got off the horse. He began looking around, he was staring at small stalks of grass and picking at the ground. Normal actions for woodsmen.

  He put something in his mouth, tasted it on his tongue and spit it out. Again, normal but that normally made Edin gag.

  This time, Edin didn’t. He gripped the hilt of his sword and looked around more fervently.

  Luckily the grass wasn’t too high to conceal enemies. But the darkness more than made up for it. They could see maybe thirty yards around his ball. He guessed that the last patrol barely had ten feet of sight.

  The dematians would’ve been on them before they knew what was happening.

 
Faasern began moving, he was staring down and stepping around something unseen by Edin. The horses and soldiers followed. Someone whispered, “We shouldn’t be here.”

  They walked around the meadow, circling the tree line for a minute. A very dark tree line.

  Something rustled in the brush. The thicket rattling like it’d been struck with something or an animal ran from it.

  A moment later, there was a crying chattering scream and then a painful cry. Edin spun in the saddle and saw one of his men fall from the horse. Pulling out a horsehead knife for another attack, was the dematian that had struck him with it.

  “Attack!” yelled another of the men and soon they began to spin in circles on the horses while drawing swords. A set of dematians, maybe three, leapt from their hiding place behind a thicket and attacked.

  The first two were cut down by swords, the third leapt onto the back of one of the horses. In a blinding instant, it dug its teeth into the man’s neck while its claws ripped into his chest. The horse bucked but the dematian stayed on then threw the man off.

  It grabbed the reigns and then raced the horse into the woods.

  Edin barely had a moment to think. He couldn’t let it get reinforcements. Edin spurred his horse and then it bolted after the dematian that rode the horse.

  “Stay together!” someone yelled.

  Wind whipped past him and the light shone brightly. He could see a small glow from the horse ahead.

  Edin blinked and then covered his face as a stray branch caught his hand and cheek. The air tasted damp and fetid and then to the right there was a burst of yellow. For a brief instant, he smelled fresh berries and his head went woozy.

  Then it snapped and he heard the neighs of horses panicking and fearful men screaming. Edin glanced over his shoulder and saw a cloud of yellow smoke wafting like a slow-moving tide to cut him off from the rest of the men.

  He saw as one of the men fell while the horse made it through. Then it galloped off into the darkness. The sergeant leapt down and covered his face while he ran to get the fallen comrade.

  Edin turned back to the trail. There was a distinct set of hoof prints both churning up the same damp soil.

  He couldn’t see the dematian anymore or even hear the hoofbeats.

  Ahead, there was a burst of blue light that lit the sky. Then sparks began to drop as Edin stood in the stir ups.

  The taste of sulfur hung in the air and then the light fell into a small clearing up ahead. In the field, there was a horse, lit by the blue light. Beyond it was a lump in the field.

  Edin ducked a low hanging branch and his horse leapt a fallen tree and burst into the field. He spotted the pale white hand of a human by the lump.

  It had to be Berka.

  Just off to the side of him, crawling like his legs were broken was a black dematian. It was crawling with great claws and vicious snapping teeth.

  Edin summoned an ethereal knife and sent it careening into the body. There was a quick cry of pain and the thing collapsed a foot from Berka’s prone body.

  He pulled up the reigns and bounded from the horse to the body.

  Bending over, he saw blood over his friend’s face. There was a great slash across his eye and nose and there was blood on his chest bleeding through his tunic.

  Edin reached out with his senses to feel for the injuries. He found them here and there but not a ton. The boy was very pale. Edin closed his eyes and put his hands over the body.

  “What are you doing.” Berka said and started to push himself up. The blue light from the sky faded and Edin summoned the pale ethereal light.

  “Berka you’re injured, you’re bloody.”

  “Not all my blood.”

  Edin looked to the dead dematian a few feet from Berka, the one that’d been ready to kill him. Then Edin spotted a knife in Berka’s closed fist. A smile came over him.

  “Get up,” He said and helped Berka stand. The oaf then hobbled over toward his greatsword a few yards away and pulled it from the ground.

  “Must’ve hit a trap,” Berka said. “I was flung from the horse,” he paused. “I don’t know how long ago.” Then he stopped again. “The patrol? My father?”

  Edin shook his head.

  “I see.” He wiped blood from his face. “All of them?”

  Edin didn’t answer. “We need to get back to the city.”

  As Edin was about to grab the horse, something crunched outside the clearing. Instantly, the horse reared up and then bolted into the darkness as if Edin had struck it with the spurs.

  Edin spun and saw a dark figure emerging. It was slow and lumbering and huge. Nearly twice Edin’s height and somehow seemed to absorb the light of Edin’s ethereal ball. It took a step and the ground crunched.

  Edin’s feet went the other way. Somehow, not certain how, he was able to move. The eyes were penetrating and held him without blinking.

  The ethereal light went out.

  A moment later, the small meadow was lit by fire. Around him, trees burned but didn’t smoke. The forest lit up and he could see dematians and other monsters unhurt amongst the flames. Edin spun slowly as the ground rumbled.

  There were giant spiders, five feet tall with thick, hairy legs and eyes like rippling water. There were giant humanoid creatures as tall as the trees with bluish skin; there were snakes like the ponnoa but larger. From above, he heard the cries of wyrms and saw primevals soaring in circles above him like a whirlpool or tornado. Some flew through the flames and were uninjured.

  Edin felt it and saw it. Their eyes, the demons, the monsters, the creatures, all of them were on Edin.

  Edin tried to lift Mirage, but his arm felt weak. His body became numb.

  Suddenly, Berka dropped to his knees and cried out something unintelligible.

  Edin locked eyes with the monstrous, near human, demon coming toward him. It smiled with sharp teeth.

  “Hallo, young one,” it said, the voice curdling his innards and causing more gooseflesh than he’d ever thought was possible. Hair stood up and he did all he could not to wet himself.

  Berka screamed but Edin was silent. He couldn’t think, he could barely move. He’d seen this one climbing the tunnel and though it’d been a different form, the form of the Underworld, he knew exactly who this was. A nightmare.

  Now, standing before the god of the underworld and his minions, Edin felt despair. He knew that it was over for man. He had no fight in him. There was nothing to do but lie down and cry in a fetal position while his life was snuffed out.

  Then barely there, like a flickering candle in a brisk breeze, he thought of Arianne and then of Berka next to him. Edin felt a glimmer of courage and didn’t drop.

  He clenched his jaw and stared up at the god approaching.

  His mind went to a place where he began wondering what he was seeing again. The beast flickered between the near human or elven figure and then to a black beast with a long tail and coals for eyes.

  Edin felt a tugging in his gut like that of a strong rope or when he’d first felt the talent. It was in a glade like this, he thought, and facing something that wanted nothing more than to destroy everything he’d ever been.

  The tugging was undeniable. It pulled at him and Edin took a step forward.

  “Wha—” Berka said, his voice crackling. “Don’t.”

  Edin stepped again. Soon sweat began to pour down his face and tears ran from his eyes. He was growing hotter and then his arm began to burn.

  “So much pain.” A deep voice pounded into his head. “So much agony in your life.”

  In front of him, ghostly shapes began to take form. He saw his mother appear. She looked at him for a brief moment, then beside her was Kes and then Ali and Freta.

  A ghostly green fire appeared and they began crying out. Screaming in agony from the pain.

  Then to the left he saw Horston dying in the field and Merset’s body. It was torn to shreds like an animal had been at it.

  He saw the people from the isles lying dead
over the Reaches. He watched a ghostly version of himself stab Foristol.

  “All this death.” The words were in his head.

  Then Monk was on the river as a great wyrm came down and snatched him off the raft before flying out of sight.

  Then a moment later, a body fell to the ground with a splat. Off to the right he heard his own voice and looked to see a light form of himself stab Vistach in the heart.

  “Father,” Berka screamed, his voice and pain gargled by the tears.

  “The pain you bring and is brought to you.” The voice called in his head.

  Suddenly his muscles all clenched and pain erupted throughout his body. His side, where he’d been slashed and cut up. His gut and shoulder where he’d been stabbed.

  Everything went white and he lost all control of his body. He felt his bladder evacuate and his legs turn to gelatin.

  Edin dropped like he’d been smacked on the head by a great hammer. There was no way of knowing how long he’d been out or at least in that position.

  Slowly, a dawning came back over him like a northern wind pulling away a rainstorm. Edin opened his eyes and saw great feet before him. Humanesque feet, and then something tugged at the back of his tunic and he was lifted up to his feet. His legs dangled until he felt the strength to stand again and looked up.

  Holding him was a twenty-foot giant. It was ugly and had a great lump of a forehead and a dumb look on its face.

  Then it grunted and seemed surprised. Edin was dropped and nearly fell but caught himself as the thing stepped back. The great god of the underworld appeared from behind it and grinned at Edin. The black eyes, so deep and disconcerting that Edin could barely feel the wetness in his trousers.

  He was human looking again for that moment. All but the black eyes. Maybe it was his true shape, maybe it wasn’t.

  He heard Berka sniffling behind him and crying out for his mommy. Edin wanted to join him.

  “You have the weakness of all of your kind.” Yio spoke into his head. “I know you think you are special. That you believe that you were somehow ordained by the gods to save the world. That could not be further from the truth.”