Chapter Two
Old Trune sat huddled, mostly concealed by brush at the side of the road as the three approached. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking and it wasn’t the ale this time. He was more frightened than he had ever been in his life. He rubbed his dirty hands across his bare foot. The dark sores still hadn’t faded. His feet burned like fire.
Straggly wisps of white hair stuck to his sweat-streaked face and his bloodshot eyes jerked to and fro in his head. He downed a few more swallows from his flask.
He had told no one of the voice.
They all think I’m just a drunk. And I’ll let’m go on thinkin’ that.
The drink quieted the voice to an extent. There was never complete silence, but it seemed to give some relief. The voice had told him this day would come and just as it had promised, he had found the woman. He had gone to the Arch mostly out of curiosity for he had never put much stock in the reality of the voice.
That is, until now.
It had been just as the voice had foretold and that truly scared him. Now he couldn’t get the image of her bloody and mutilated body out of his head. She hadn’t been dead long when he had found her. No signs of decomposition and the blood was still wet in places.
He carefully slipped his worn boot back on and let out a deep sigh.
The voice tried to reach him again.
Shut up, shut up! No more ...
As he noticed the riders approaching, he tried to scramble farther away from the road but only succeeded in bringing more attention to himself with the rustling noise.
Hagan pulled his horse up short at the sudden sound to his right. It was far too much noise for an animal, he thought. Whatever it was, it was still there. It hadn’t fled, as an animal would have.
He loosened his sword in its sheath and motioned for the others to stay put. Dismounting slowly, he walked toward the sound's origin.
“Who’s there?” he called as he stepped quietly into the brush. Labored breathing off to his left. Whoever it was, they were scared and most likely no danger to them. Just then, a loud cough issued forth from the overgrown weeds and he immediately recognized the cough as Trune’s.
“Trune? That you in there?”
No answer.
“Trune? It’s Hagan. What’s wrong? Why are you skulking around like a Muckhog out here?”
“H-Hagan?” came Trune’s barely audible reply.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Suddenly Trune erupted from hiding and threw his arms around Hagan as if begging protection.
“Whoa, whoa. What is it, man?”
Hagan helped the old man onto the road and signaled the others that all was safe. They made their way to them with troubled looks upon their faces.
“Talk to me, Trune. Tell me what’s gotten you in this state. Been hittin’ the old flask again, eh?” Hagan gave him a slap on the back to comfort him. Trune finally let go and literally collapsed at their feet.
“I’ve never seen him like this.” D’Pharin whispered in Gorin’s direction.
“I ain’t never been like this neither dammit!” Trune screamed, spittle dripping into his yellowing beard.
“Go on, friend. We want to help, but we have to know what the trouble is.” said Hagan with a puzzled look at the others.
“She’s out there. Under Klaemen’s Arch. Oh, Wind. They tore her apart-“ he muttered almost under his breath.
“What? Who was torn apart?” D’Pharin asked. He knelt down trying to see Trune’s eyes.
“She’s dead. But not long dead, mind ye. A few hours mebbee. Lots o’ blood, there is. Lots.”
The others looked from one another in shock and confusion. Was this another of Trune’s stories? This seemed different somehow. Trune was never this shook up about anything. Hagan was inclined to believe him this time.
“Alright. We’ll take his word on this one. If he says someone’s been ripped apart under the Arch, then I believe it. It’s only a league or so to town. We’ll alert the mayor and have him send some guards along with us.” Hagan explained. “We have to check this out.”
Gorin cleared his throat suddenly, getting their attention.
“He is coming again. This makes our haste all the more hmmm … necessary.”
He was obviously disturbed and upset. He paced back and forth across the dirt road and kicked at some stray rocks.
“It is as they have foretold.” he added with a growl.
Trune quickly glanced at the Troll. Did he know as well? How could he? Did he hear the Voice? No, that couldn’t be.
“What are you getting at, Gorin?” Hagan asked as he placed a foot in his stirrup and hoisted himself onto Maelstrom’s back.
“It is nothing, Hagan. We must hurry on to Lauden.” He trudged on ahead of them at a very fast pace.
“All of this cryptic foolishness is making me crazy.” Hagan announced out loud. He extended a hand and pulled Trune up behind him. “If you know something about all of this, let us in on it as well.”
“We must speak to the Council as soon as possible.” Gorin shouted back to him, still many paces ahead.
With a huff, Hagan grew quiet and quickened his pace, Trune’s incessant babbling in his ear. He shook his head roughly and looked at the sky. None of this makes any sense.
Klaemen’s Arch had been a landmark in the west for centuries, formed during the final battle between Klaemen and Mournenhile himself. Celebrated as one of Kirkaldin’s finest heroes, Klaemen had been both mage and warrior. Most students of sorcery eventually gave up the more physical arts. Not so with Klaemen. He had excelled in both.
In the fiery climax of their battle, both combatants had been destroyed in an explosion that had rocked the entire continent. Some say the Elves across the sea felt a tremor as well.
No trace had been found of either of them, only a huge hole blown in the side of the mountains that had stood there. All that remained was a rocky arch, each foot resting leagues apart.
Beneath the arch they stood staring in disbelief at the body at their feet.
“Told ye. I told ye she was here. Tore her up, they did. That is ... whoever they were.” Trune said shakily, keeping a fair amount of distance between himself and the body.
Chenal had brought along the Dreamsinger, Gaela. A beautiful blonde woman with short, wavy hair, she got everyone’s attention as soon as she had dismounted. She wore a long burgundy skirt with intricate embroidered patterns covering the length. She was near tears. The mayor assumed that they would need to thoroughly examine the body and usually a woman performed that duty on another woman. That and Gaela was rumored to possess certain ‘gifts’ beyond that of dreams. Some said she could ‘see’ things. Past and future. She might be able to reveal more about this attack.
“Oh, Wind ... ”
Her breathing grew more rapid as she fell back, fingers to her temples.
“I know this woman. Oh, Wind.”
“Who is she?” the mayor asked. “I don’t recognize her.”
“No, no. She’s not from Lauden. She is Ar’Klaemen. Her husband had been away and I sang with her to contact him. He was so happy about the- oh, no ... ”
She stood, glanced at the woman again and bolted away down the hillside.
Chenal followed, attempting to comfort her.
“What could’ve done this?” D’Pharin asked, covering his mouth with the back of one forearm. He tried not to show his queasiness to the others. He felt the need to sit down. Somewhere far away from here.
“Not what, brother. Who.” Hagan responded as he knelt near the woman’s head.
“Who? You don’t think-“
“Look at the prints on her arms. Here.” He pointed out an almost perfectly formed handprint. A small print, but definitely not animal.
Everyone looked over t
o the mayor, awaiting his orders. He realized this with a start and began to fidget.
“It, uh ... Well, that is ... ” he stammered, rubbing his pudgy cheek. This was his first difficult decision in many years. He puffed on his pipe frantically and blew smoke from his nostrils.
Hagan was far too impatient for this. Instead of waiting, he barked orders over Chenal’s shoulder as he flinched.
“Scout the area. Especially in that direction.” he said pointing along the path of blood. “And be careful.”
The guards hesitated a moment and Chenal nodded. They moved off in pairs to comb the region.
“Hmmm. Let us move away from here.” Gorin stated. He wrapped an arm around D’Pharin’s shoulders and gently nudged him down the hillside.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” the young man asked.
Gorin frowned and put his eyes to the ground as he sat. He chewed his massive lip for a moment in thought, and then raised his head.
“The only honorable death is in fighting and defending something that you believe in. To see something such as this turns my stomach. So young and innocent. I have seen too many innocents killed in my time. Too many ... ”
D’Pharin felt his pain, but was at a loss for something to say.
Hagan strode up, eyes scanning the near horizon.
“It seems Gorin is the only Troll that can’t stand the sight of blood.” He grinned trying to lighten the mood a bit.
Gorin gave him a sudden glare.
“Relax. It was a joke.” Hagan said sitting down next to them.
“My friends, things are happening all too quickly. Hmm ... There are forces at work here-I ... I am forbidden to speak of this until we reach Harquinn.” The Troll announced, shrugging off the last few words.
“Sounds like something we should know, Gorin. What are we getting into here?” Hagan asked as he searched the hillside for a sign of the guards. “Are you saying this attack has something to do with us? With me?”
No answer.
He stood up quickly and brushed off his breeches.
“I hope what you’re hiding doesn’t get us killed. I would like to know what we’re up against.” he added.
“I am sorry, Hagan. I, too, swore an oath.” Gorin muttered, eyes to the ground.
“Hagan, I hate to admit it, but I’m a little scared. Nothing like this has ever happened around here.” D’Pharin explained running a hand through his hair.
“I know, I know. It seems the answers all lie in Harquinn. The sooner we arrive, the sooner I can start questioning the council. They only let you know what they think you need to know and that’s usually as little as possible. I’m not looking forward to the games of sorcery, to be honest. How does it go again? ...
“The only truth to be gotten from a wizard, is a mountain is a hill and a dragon is a lizard.”
This produced a huge grin from Gorin, who then tried to conceal it.
“What was that, my rocky friend? Do you mean to say that you don’t trust the wizards, either?” Hagan asked in an exaggerated manner.
“Hmmm ... I do trust them; however, you speak truthfully when you tell of their mysteries. The Trolls call it circlespeak. Their own words are at odds with each other it seems.”
They all had a chuckle. D’Pharin felt somewhat left out, never having dealt with a wizard before. It won’t be long now, he thought.
Gaela was finishing up her examination of the body after being coaxed back into it by Chenal. She stood and covered it gently with her long pale cloak. Instantly its shade darkened and she hurried away. She approached Hagan’s group with a frown.
“What do you think?” he asked inviting her to sit. She declined and folded her arms over her chest. She hesitated a moment and as she began to answer, a group of guards lumbered up the northern hillside.
“Well, whatever ripped into her, it’s long gone now.” one of them called out.
Gaela glared at him with contempt. How cold and callous.
“Not what ripped into her. What ripped out.”
“Huh?” the guard said, puzzled.
Trune produced an almost grunt-like sound and backed away. He decided to disappear while the others were occupied.
Hagan wrinkled his forehead.
“What?”
“This thing that killed her came from inside. It was her unborn child that tore itself out. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this ... ” She slowly trailed off in thought.
“Her child?” D’Pharin asked with a startled expression.
“That’s right. She was pregnant. Nearly full-term ... Something evil is upon us.” She hesitated. “ I must go.” She gathered her skirt about her legs and made off for her horse. She hopped up sidesaddle and flicked the reins.
As he watched her, D’Pharin found that he missed her company already, but he new that was simply her charm. All Dreamsingers possessed a certain magical charisma. They could be very persuasive when they chose to be. She certainly is beautiful, he thought.
“She’s something, isn’t she brother?” Hagan asked in an attempt to embarrass the younger Marindel.
“Absolutely.” he answered, his eyes still on her as she rode away. As she passed into the trees below, he turned.
“One day, I’ll have a woman like her.” he said with a sly grin.
“Whatever you say, brother.” Hagan laughed. “I think she’s a little ... sophisticated for you.”
“I’m sophisticated.” said D’Pharin in defense.
“Hmmm ... I agree. You are quite the gentleman.” Gorin added in all seriousness.
“Right ... ” smiled Hagan, punching D’Pharin lightly in the chest.
Chenal and his guards had bundled the slain woman in blankets and had placed her in the back of a horse-drawn wagon. There was much talk among the guards as to the cause of death.
Evidently Gaela had not informed Chenal of her findings and this had him a little upset.
“Why does she think I brought her out here? We’re going to have a little talk back in town.” he said all too loudly to gain everyone’s attention. Always grandstanding, he was. The brothers knew that by the time he was in Gaela’s presence again, her persuasiveness would calm the fire right out of him. He would leave her home a humbled man for certain. That was the way with the Singers.
“Saddle up, men. Back to work.” he shouted with a look at Hagan. He would probably never forget the fact that Hagan had commanded his men and they had obeyed!
Chenal didn’t know much about respect and never would. Money only buys you so much.
Hagan’s group hadn’t had time to gather supplies while in town due to the commotion, so they mounted up and trotted off ahead of the wagon. They didn’t talk much at first; each immersed in their own thoughts. It seems that they were thinking roughly the same things, however.
“Poor woman, huh?” D’Pharin was the first to speak. “What does this mean? What happened to her child for it to become something like that?”
“Well, I’m sure Gorin knows all of the answers, but I can only guess. If the council is bringing me in and things like this are beginning to happen ... It’s going to get bad again.” Hagan said. “Months before the Black Sun, things like this began to happen. Evil things. That’s the only way to describe it. Whatever killed her, it wasn’t her baby. Not anymore, at least. Mournenhile has a way of twisting things.”
“Mournenhile?” D’Pharin asked in shock.
“Do not speak that name so close to his handiwork!” Gorin bellowed, bringing up the rear.
“You don’t believe all of that superstition, do you? Speak his name, feel the flame?”
“Hmmm ... Let us not tempt fate, my friend.” Gorin said.
“Tales to scare children, that’s all.” Hagan added, turning his eyes back to the road.
“Do you think this is really his doing? I thought he was destroyed.” said D’Pharin.
“
Evil that dark cannot be destroyed.” Gorin stated, now walking abreast of them.
“Nonsense.” Hagan argued. “Everything can be destroyed. Everything has a beginning and an ending. He can die. What you say is true, there always will be evil, however, that evil can be dispersed and its form changed. When Mournenhile is destroyed, the darkness will take on another shape and be weakened for a time.”
“Hmmm ... Let’s pray you are right, Hagan.” The Troll said as he watched the horizon. “Just as well, good cannot exist without the presence of evil. No light without shadow.”
“Why couldn’t all evil be destroyed? If we were to destroy Mournenhile and his armies; erase them from Kirkaldin, only good would remain.” D’Pharin said.
“No offense, brother, but that’s a little naive. Every being has the capacity for evil within them. We are created that way. It’s usually jealousy that causes us to behave that way. We want what others have. One man wants another man’s land or wealth or worse ... his woman.” Hagan explained.
Gorin let out a deep chuckle. “I knew you were leading to that tale.” he said. “Hmmm ... Shall I?”
“Tell on, my friend.” Hagan said with a noble flourish of his arms.
A Dream of Storms, In the Shadow of the Black Sun: Book One Page 3