The Harrowing Path

by Cleave Bourbon

  Devyn had begun to doubt the teachings that magic was evil. Those childhood stories, which frightened him into bed at night, may have had little to no basis in fact. Devyn had also begun to think about letting Ianthill teach him the ways of wielding, but he knew Rennon would get in the way. Still, he was fascinated with the prospect of using magic. Who wouldn’t want to learn how to wield? He made a point to remember to talk to Rennon about it when they stopped for the night. Maybe he could convince him it was a good thing.

  As they traveled deeper into The Blight, Devyn could not feel the sensation of the land around him, as if all of his senses had suddenly ceased to function. He took the three smooth, round stones from the black pouch in his vest pocket and turned them over in his hand. He could feel the power they each held, and he felt comforted by it.

  As the sun began its final descent, Dicarion signaled it was time to make camp. Devyn felt uneasy of Dicarion’s choice of campsite; he had led them to a cluster of ruins very similar to the ruins of Signal Hill. The architecture was almost identical, but Dicarion assured him there were no cursed townsfolk. As the party passed through the old gate entrance of the ruins, Devyn noted the abandoned buildings were mostly intact and appeared more in disrepair than in ruins. At the center of the village was a town square, and at the rear of the square was a massive structure with crumbling statuary. Its base appeared worn and part of the roof was missing, but it was still a remarkable sight.

  “We will stay in the temple of Loracia. It is a defendable central structure,” Dicarion announced.

  Vesperin was very excited at the prospect of staying at the temple, and he nodded his approval to Devyn, who returned the nod. Vesperin made his way to the temple by working his way behind Dicarion.

  Once inside the structure, Devyn marveled at its magnificence. High ceilings with layered, vaulted walls and statuary of the goddess Loracia as a centerpiece near the pulpit gave the interior a majestic flair. A large part of the ceiling toward the rear of the temple was missing and the furnishings were all awry, but Devyn had no trouble seeing its former glory. Dicarion took it upon himself to stable the horses, and Rennon joined Devyn in gathering firewood. Ianthill and Gondrial set up a table and began pouring over old maps while Vesperin prayed at the altar of Loracia.

  The overgrown cobblestone streets twisted and turned around small round houses crumbling from neglect. Trees and brush had once grown throughout the village, so Devyn and Rennon had no trouble finding dead branches to hack into firewood.

  “This place is incredible,” Rennon said as he gathered a few stray pieces of wood. “It’s hard to believe it was abandoned.”

  “As I understand it, there were no crops or livestock that could flourish after the war stripped the land,” Devyn said.

  “Magic corrupted it. Its evil took this city.”

  Devyn grimaced. “It wasn’t magic that corrupted the land; it was its misuse.”

  “What is wrong with you, Devyn? Ever since we left the Vale of Morgoran, you have been magic’s advocate. Are you sympathizing with the wielders now?” Rennon laughed uneasily when Devyn did not reply.

  Devyn sighed and picked up another piece of wood. “Would that be so wrong?”

  Rennon dropped his wood. “Have you lost your mind? Of course it’s wrong. Look around you. The drawing of essence destroyed this village and the very land around it. If you have any doubts of its evil, destructive power just remember Rodraq.”

  “Rodraq died by Dramyds as I remember, not essence wielding. In fact, I believe it was the use of essence that saved us all.” Devyn paused to think of a way to word his next question. “Rennon, the tea leaves Sanmir gave you, surely you have run out by now.”

  Rennon began picking up the wood he had dropped. “It has been four days.”

  “Four days! How long can you go without?” Devyn asked alarmed.

  “I don’t know. I have never been without this long.”

  “Do you know what the mixture is? Can we find the plants in the wild?”

  “That is all I...” He paused and held his finger up to his mouth for Devyn to remain quiet. “Did you hear that?”

  “What? I don’t hear anything.”

  Rennon dropped the wood again and drew his daggers. He moved slowly toward one of the abandoned houses, and Devyn followed after he slowly put his firewood on the ground. From inside the house came low mutterings Devyn could not understand. Rennon looked back to the square and realized it would be quite a run back to the temple. As the two got closer, they could hear the dark speech more clearly.

  “Shadow Lurkers?” Devyn whispered to Rennon.

  Rennon nodded, “Maybe, better look at your sword to be sure.”

  Devyn pulled Dranmalin partway out of the scabbard, but it was not glowing. “Not Drasmyd Duil. Let’s get closer.”

  “They moved carefully for a better look. “They look like small Dramyds, maybe half the size.” Devyn said.

  The creatures stood inside the house talking in dark, guttural speech intermixed with hissing noises. They were short, black, and covered with thorny scales. They wore as much dirt and grime as they did clothing, and they carried black, curved swords.

  A snapping noise from behind him sent Rennon’s wrist in motion, and a dagger whizzed by Devyn’s face, striking a sneaking creature between the eyes. Rennon looked down at his hand and the dagger he had just thrown was still in his possession.

  Devyn drew Dranmalin slowly as not to make sound. “We have to warn the others,” he whispered to Rennon.

  “What are they and what are they doing here? I thought the Defenders kept such creatures out of The Blight,” Rennon whispered.

  Devyn shook his head. “I don’t know; it isn’t important. Back away slowly. If we can make it back to the temple undetected, we can warn the others and find out.”

  As the two were backing away from the house, Devyn saw a hearth fire burning in the temple, and the whole place was lit up with soft glowing light. Dicarion had already begun preparing for the night, apparently not at all worried about an attack in The Blight. Devyn realized the small Dramyds must know of their presence and were preparing to attack. Frantically he searched the dark edges of the temple with his sharp eyes for movement. Concentrating on the darkness, he let his consciousness search out the areas around the temple, and when he opened his eyes, he could see in the dark as if it were day. The temple was surrounded. Devyn grabbed Rennon’s arm and stopped him from moving. “The creatures are all around the temple. I see them crouched there.”

  “In the darkness, you see them?” Rennon asked skeptically.

  “Aye, trust me; they are there.”

  “What do we do now?” Rennon asked.

  Devyn felt the pouch with the three stones and closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Devyn, what now?”

  Devyn slowly opened his eyes. “Rennon, forgive me, but I—”

  “No, Devyn, please don’t do it.”

  “I have no choice, my friend. I must.”

  “If you go running out there, they will swarm you like a colony of honey bees.”

  Devyn put his hand on Rennon’s shoulder. “We need a diversion. I know what decision the three stones I bought in Cedar Falls will help me make. It is the decision to draw essence.” He touched the pouch containing the stones in his vest. “We both have made our decision already, but we just have not wanted to admit it.”

  Rennon looked down, his daggers drawn. He took a deep breath and removed Devyn’s hand from his shoulder. “I cannot be friends with a wielder.”

  Devyn nodded. “I shall always call you friend.” He took out the stones and turned them in his free hand. A moment of concentration and the stones were gone, their purpose was now clear. A surge of energy took his body and his mind cleared. It was all so simple now. He felt the trees, the grass, the buildings, and he sensed the dead of the land and the life of the creatures all around him. Even without the ability to draw essence from the land, he felt himself draw in
the very essence of all else that would allow him to do so. He even drew essence from the air. Rennon backed away from him, and the pang of Devyn’s own sacrifice surged the energy to his fingertips. “Shield your eyes, Rennon,” Devyn said as he let loose the energy on the diminutive Dramyds in a devastating bolt of pure lightning. High-pitched screams came from the surprised creatures as they burned in intense light.

  The remaining Dramyds in the house bolted out into the courtyard. Devyn turned to meet them with another blast of intense light. Whatever survived ran away into the darkness. Devyn fell to his knees with his hands covering his face. Rennon scoffed and ran toward the temple as Dicarion, Gondrial, Ianthill, and Vesperin ran out to see what all the commotion was.

  “What in Fawlsbane’s name happened out here?” Dicarion shouted to Rennon as he ran up.

  “I hope your cause is worth it, Ianthill. Devyn is one of you now. He has gone against everything we were ever taught to live the life of a criminal.” Rennon’s eyes flashed with anger and contempt. “See to it that your cause was worth it.” He entered the temple, sheathing his daggers as he walked.

  “Shocking words from one who wields the wild magic, is it not?” Gondrial said with a sarcastic smirk.

  “Not now, Gondrial, this is not an easy time for any of these boys,” Ianthill said.

  Dicarion leaned down to one of the dead creatures. “Draalings, nasty little creatures, quite poisonous if they bite you.”

  Vesperin ran to where Devyn wept and knelt down beside him. “Are you all right, Devyn?”

  “Will you abandon me too, Vesperin?”

  “Why would I do that? We have known each other since childhood.”

  “Rennon has.”

  “Rennon will recover, he always does. I am surprised at you for worrying about it.”

  “Not this time. I think he is serious. What have I done, Vesperin? What have I done?”

  Vesperin took Devyn’s hands and Devyn pulled back. His hands were charred and burnt. “Let me heal you.” Devyn slowly gave in and lifted his hands to Vesperin, who said a short prayer. Devyn’s hands returned to normal.

  Vesperin smiled warmly. “Come on now, Dicarion has a stew on the fire. You will be hungry after the shock subsides.”

  Devyn was already feeling the hunger pangs. “Am I a wielder now, Vesperin?”

  Vesperin looked at the charred remains of the Draalings. “It appears that way.”

  AS SOON AS THE BOYS left earshot, Dicarion turned to Ianthill.

  “How in Fawlsbane’s beard did the boy do that, Ianthill? I have never seen a neophyte wield like that before.”

  “He is more than he seems. The Silver Drake may yet choose him.”

  “The Silver Drake? When will this happen?” Dicarion asked.

  “All will be revealed in time, my friend.”

  “I thought this land was dead. Where did he get the essence to wield?” asked Gondrial. There isn’t enough essence in the air for lightning.”

  “He summoned it from himself somehow,” Ianthill said. “I suspect an essence stone.”

  Dicarion winced. “Where would he get his hands on one of those?”

  “He bought three stones in the shop where he bought the jade statuette. One was probably an essence stone. He will need instruction with great care now. The situation is delicate.”

  “Indeed, he has been taught all his life to fear and loath wielders; to suddenly become one could lead him to madness,” Dicarion said as he peered into one of the abandoned houses.

  Gondrial shuttered. “I remember getting essence sickness when I was an apprentice. I hope we can teach Devyn without that experience.”

  “He won’t go mad. He made a choice when he decided to wield. I doubt he will be able to draw on that power for a good long time now. He may have even burnt out the ability altogether. If he used a stone, it probably lent him some protection,” Ianthill said.

  Dicarion was about to reply when an errant sound interrupted him.

  “Halt! Who enters The Blight?” a voice shouted from behind a nearby building.

  “Ianthill of the isle. I travel with Dicarion of the docks,” Ianthill replied.

  A man on horseback followed by six or seven more men appeared from the darkness. “Dicarion? I thought you would have more sense than to bring strangers this deep into The Blight.”

  “Parlane, is that you? I thought you to be dead,” Dicarion said. “What business do you have here?”

  “Dicarion, you foolish old man, Palanon will have your head for bringing this wielder back into The Blight. The last time he was here it took us a year to recover.”

  Dicarion ignored the insult. “Palanon wanted to lead him here himself. Ianthill comes to the land peaceful enough.”

  “Peaceful! I saw the lightning. What are you up to? The Defenders have a need to know your purpose.”

  “We travel across The Blight only to reach the monetary of Vetell Fex. Will you offer us your services? You can personally lead us onward to Vetell Fex.”

  “The only place I will lead you is out of these lands, old man.”

  “Exactly what I wish for you to do if you’d listen. Vetell Fex is just outside the eastern border,” Dicarion said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

  Ianthill smiled wickedly. “You can at least help us clear off the clan of Draalings we killed near the old temple.”

  “Draalings?” Parlane’s attention was captured.

  “Aye, near the old temple.” Dicarion said. “I am to report to the commandant this month. Perhaps I should let him know your patrol failed to detect a clan of Draalings in The Blight. I will even take a few items from the dead buggers to show him I speak the truth. I understand, of course, that you will be reprimanded, but that is all part of your job.”

  “All right, old man, you have me at a disadvantage.” Parlane’s face remained stolid. “We will help you, but do not think you have made a new friend here; the Defenders are not taken to such tactics.”

  “No, of course not,” Dicarion said as he winked at Gondrial.

  Chapter 24: Foundations

  Fayne entered what she perceived to be the border to The Blight. Dead grass and a fallen tree here and there told her she was correct. She had been riding for several days, and the rations Dellah had given her were depleting rapidly, but her charge spurred her onward. As an afterthought, Fayne wondered if Naneden’s army had taken Brookhaven and whether or not Lourn and Dellah were safe. “You cannot think about such things, Fayne,” she said aloud, “or your very thoughts will drive you mad.” She closed her eyes for a moment and pictured the image of Vesperin in her mind. The image of the blond cleric comforted her.

  Fayne patted her horse’s neck. She was careful not to push the animal too far. The horse responded to her touch and perked up a bit. Fayne meticulously scanned the ground beneath her, her sharp eyes picking out signs of hoof prints and travel. Trendan was swift and he left a few clues to follow, but Fayne could find them with some skill. She scanned the sky and the horizon ahead. “I sense oppressive gloom in this land, pretty horse,” she said. The horse whinnied in response. “There are some ruins up ahead. I am sure you would like to stop for a while. Get us there, horse, and we will rest.” The horse moved onward a little faster toward the ruins as Fayne revisited the image of Vesperin once again in her mind.

  THE SEA GODDESS cut through the crashing waves easily as the churning sea spit and spat in the forefront of the impending storm. Captain Edifor had ordered her to sail toward Arillia to get away from the storm. The winds were beginning to increase, tossing the ship over waves and white caps. Bren noticed the captain’s concerned expression, and so did his designated first mate.

  “What troubles you, my lord?” asked First Mate Toben.

  “The winds are unnatural. Something stirs in the air, and it does not bode well.”

  “Sir?”

  Captain Edifor put his hand on his first mate’s shoulder. “Turn the ship back to The Blight, Toben; I fear we are dri
ven from its shores. My bones ache with dread.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Toben replied as he turned the ship hard about.

  Bren took the captain aside. “What is it, Edifor?”

  The captain turned white. “Look at the skies. They darken with the storm, but if you look in between the clouds when the lightning strikes you will see them.” He watched until a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. “There, did you see them?” Two gigantic figures with enormous wingspans dipped below a cloud, and with a mighty thrust of wing, they soared back into the air. A third one appeared at the next bolt of lightning.

  “Dragons,” Bren said, “headed for The Blight.”

  “You are the broodlord; what sort of dragon rides a storm?” Captain Edifor asked.

  “Not a dragon I would call upon as a friend. No dragons from Draegodor to be sure.”

  “Exiles then,” Captain Edifor said.

  “Aye,” Bren answered. “It’s a good bet they were sent to deal with our friends in The Blight.”

  Kelle appeared behind Bren. He could feel her presence, but he did not dare to look at her face. He could also feel her apprehension. “My lady, perhaps you should go back down below.”

  “I will not. What is it you see?” she said defiantly, wiping the rain and sea from her eyes to see what he was looking at in the skies.

  Bren nodded to Edifor. “I agree with your course of action; we must return to Old Symbor. Mind our course and speed and notify me as soon as you see land.” He turned to Kelle. “My lady, it is time we talked. Follow me.”

  Kelle followed the broodlord below to her chamber. He stopped at her cabin door. “You asked me of the armor you keep. It is time to answer.”

  “What is it, Bren? What is wrong?”

  Bren was silent for an awkward moment as he chose his words very carefully. He looked up to face her at last. “No one comes to armor such as this. The armor comes to you, and now you must wear it.”