Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (17 page)

Dorenn awoke, surprised to see Kerad’s face before him. “There, there, boy, that was quite a ride, was it not?”

“What happened?”

“As near as we can tell, the part of the spell that Lady Shey was deciphering about the use of male and female magic together made the spell much more powerful. It took all standing within range along with it, including me and Seancey. On your feet, we have to get to the woods and into the ruins. The incantation we employed must have sounded like a thunderclap to those who could detect it. We are in grave danger.”

“What of my friends?”

“They are all safe, my lad.” The cleric pointed to his friends all huddled together. “You are the only one who passed into unconsciousness.”

Dorenn rose to his feet and dusted himself off. “How far did we go?”

“Right up to the trees,” Gondrial said, pointing to the tree line of the woods about a furlong ahead.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Too long. The Enforcers are tracking us,” Gondrial said. “I can feel their presence not more than half a league behind us.”

“Half a league,” Dorenn said in alarm. “We should get going then.”

Gondrial smiled in spite of himself and then returned to his straight face. “Do you sense anything yet, Kerad?”

“Not a thing as of yet,” Kerad replied.

The members of the party moved quickly in an excited rush for the cover of the trees. Dorenn briefly considered the possibility that the dangers ahead were every bit as dire as the one behind him, but he dismissed the thought.
Such thinking could drive one crazy
, he thought to himself.

As they crossed into the tree line, Kerad stopped and motioned for the rest to stop as well. One by one the members of the party stopped and stared at him. He seemed to be in deep concentration. “There is danger not far ahead and to the right. Several creatures and abominations to Loracia walk there.”

“I sense them too,” Vesperin said almost excitedly. Dorenn realized that his friend had never actually had the opportunity to use his skills before.

“Everyone, prepare yourselves for the worst. It may have been a grievous mistake to come here,” Enowene said.

Rennon grasped a dagger in each hand, and Dorenn decided to unsheathe his sword.

“Do you still sense the Enforcers behind us, Gondrial?” Dorenn asked.

“They are there,” Gondrial nodded. “Our only choice is to move on and try to stay clear of the dangers of the woods.”

A sudden sound behind Dorenn alerted him to the presence of something disturbing. Upon turning to investigate, he noticed Tatrice was gone. “Where’s Tatrice?” Dorenn said frantically. “She was right behind me a moment ago!”

Dorenn ran to Vesperin and searched the ground. Drag marks appeared on the grassy floor of the woods. “Dragged off. Look here, something has her.”

“By the gods,” Gondrial swore. “Can you follow the marks?”

“I believe so,” Dorenn replied.

Gondrial swore again. “Well get to it. It could not have dragged her off far. We need to catch up before it makes its way too deep into the woods.”

Kerad muttered some words. “No need to follow the trail, I have the foul creature in my mind’s eye. Follow me and I will take you to her.”

“Quickly, move on, darkness comes, and I do not mean to be too far into the woods,” Seancey stated nervously.

Kerad followed the trail of the creature farther into the woods.

“Damn, but this creature moves fast,” Kerad cursed.

“Stop, cleric,” Seancey commanded as he drew his sword. “The ruins of Signal Hill are dead ahead.”

Gondrial groaned. “Did you have to put it in those particular words, Seancey?”

Seancey grimaced. “Sorry, Gondrial.”

Just ahead, and covered in overgrowth, were the remnants of a city gate with two guard towers at either side, similar to the Vale of Morgoran. The wooden supports lay to the side in rotten tatters. Apparently someone had forced their way through long ago, and the doors lay where they fell. Inside, Dorenn could see the growth-covered buildings, formerly proud and made of shining marble and stone, now dingy and blemished. The magnificent remains of the brass gate, forever dulled, hung precariously, and the inlaid marble surrounding it was damaged. A feeling of dread and death permeated the air around him. Once a place of beauty, it now stood as a place of death and decay. Dorenn could see the remains of a siege engine used to force entry to the city discarded to the side. During the last battles of the War of the Oracle, dark wielders cursed the city and all its inhabitants to fight against the armies of the West, but the war ended before the incantations were complete, and the city inhabitants remained in its walls forever doomed to fight for the forces of evil that were no longer present. Only the runes cast by the last remaining wielders keep the cursed townsfolk at bay to all those except the ones foolish enough to enter the woods. The city was the ancient forge and supply stores for the armies of the West, and many master sword crafters and weapon smiths resided there. It was rumored that the city had many treasures in gold, armor, and swords and weapons, which attracted many would-be treasure hunters. None of them ever returned from the woods once they had entered them.

Chills ran up Dorenn’s spine as his eye caught movement just inside the gate. Dragging an unconscious Tatrice behind it was a hideous creature of rotted flesh and bone. A green haze flowed off the creature and coated the ground, dissipating as it moved. Dorenn found it difficult to see, but he was sure its rotted skin moved fluidly.

Kerad held out his hands in an open cupped manner. He closed his eyes and brought his hands up to his chin, moving them together as if praying. He then held his arms straight out. The creature glowed in a golden, hallowed light, swirling and beautiful. It moved upward as if a golden flame caught in a whirling windstorm. The creature let out a terrifying, bloodcurdling screech as the light enveloped it. The creature dropped to the ground in a pile of bone and rotten flesh, leaving Tatrice sprawled out on the ground.

Chapter 9: Into the Ruins

Dorenn immediately started after Tatrice, but Vesperin held him back. “You can’t get to her fast enough. There are too many just inside the gate. You would never make it.”

Dorenn stared at Tatrice in horror, her motionless body frail and helpless just beyond the ruined gates. “I don’t see any danger here. I have to go to her.”

Kerad stepped in front of him. “Don’t be a fool, boy!”

“Coming here may not have been a good idea after all,” Gondrial sighed as he unsheathed his sword.

Kerad produced his short mace from the belt beneath his robes and glanced around apprehensively. “Too late to worry of that now,” he said. “Watch yourselves; there is no way of knowing what kind of curse these people suffer from. Each one will be different as well as difficult to kill. I am guessing most can be dispatched by a hard blow to the head.” He motioned the move with his mace.

Dorenn readied his sword and glanced nervously at Sylvalora, who stood with her eyes closed, muttering softly.

Rennon leaned into Dorenn. “What does he mean by kill? Aren’t they already dead?”

Dorenn shrugged. “I don’t know, but if I had to guess, I would say he means to incapacitate them.”

Kerad grimaced as he practiced his mace, swinging it in midair in a circular pattern. Dorenn could tell the old cleric had not swung his mace in a long while. Kerad stopped swinging and began to rub his right shoulder with his left hand. “Vesperin, how far have your prayers gone?”

“I have obtained the right of cleric, Brother Kerad.”

“Good, I thought you seemed older than an adept.” Kerad turned his head to address the group, and he raised his voice slightly. “Let Vesperin and I handle the cursed abominations wearing armor as they will be much more difficult to dispatch than the townspeople.”

Vesperin gulped.

Dorenn clenched his frigid fingers tighter on the hilt of his sword. He wished he had worn something over his hands. Slowly he worked out the stiffness and warmed up his arm by swinging his sword in the air the way Swordmaster Grint had taught him. Dorenn swung it around and then touched the tip to the ground in a slicing motion. He noticed for the first time that a greenish-blue ground fog had begun to collect around their feet.

“Ugh! What is that horrid smell?” Vesperin pinched his nose.

“And what’s that green fog?” Dorenn asked. He sniffed the air and cringed. “The smell seems to become stronger as the fog becomes thicker.”

“It’s the stench of death and decay. Follow my lead and keep close,” Kerad said, moving slowly in the direction of Tatrice. “That fog is a sign of the accursed people moving about. Stay clear of it.”

Gondrial snickered. “Stench of death.”

Enowene gave him a stern look.

Two armored figures lumbered from each side of the gate, dragging their feet in an unnatural stammer.

“Stay sharp, they will not be alone,” Kerad stated.

Despite the age of the armor the two guards wore, it seemed immaculate if not for the tattered swathes of cloth Dorenn surmised was once a magnificent green cloak hanging loosely over the brilliant metal. A combination of chain mail and plate of a dull golden color from helm to boot, the armor’s elegance and style teased the eye with its splendor. On the breastplate was heraldry Dorenn had never seen before. It was that of a hammer and anvil inlaid upon a sword and axe. The helm was spiked, and the paldrons extended past the shoulders on either side. The elbows and knees were similarly spiked. When the creatures stepped closer, Dorenn saw the hideous remains of the former men occupying the armor. The first man on the left had one eye; it was glazed over and oozing fluid, while the other socket was an empty, pus-oozing hole. Strips of rotting flesh sagged on either side of his face. The guard on the right was of little better condition. His eyes were both in their sockets, but the surrounding flesh had decayed, exposing them as large, glazed over orbs. His mouth was partially exposed, bearing his teeth in a frozen, unsightly smile.

To Dorenn’s horror, it began to speak in a slow agonizing tone, “Kill me; please put me out of this misery.” Dorenn felt a pang of pity pervade his senses until the pleading guard lunged forward at Kerad, swinging its massive sword. Kerad stepped aside and out of danger.

“Aye, take my head,” the other guard pleaded. “I would give you riches beyond wealth if you would kill me.”

Rennon gasped in shock. “Why do they plead for their demise?”

“I suppose it hurts to be dead,” Gondrial stated with a nonchalant, half-cocked grin.

“Gondrial, do not make light. These people are suffering,” Enowene scolded.

“Well, it’s ridiculous; besides, how would he pay us all his riches after we kill him?” Gondrial asked.

“I meant their pleading, Gondrial.”

“So did I.”

“Nay, my lady, don’t pity them,” Kerad said as he dodged another swing. “Sympathy gives them strength. We must coldly dispose of them.” Kerad swung his mace, knocking the first guard aside. “Vesperin, it is time. If the grace of Loracia has blessed you, your prayers will guide you true.” Vesperin nodded.

Kerad used the mace and smashed it into the guard’s helm, but the armor showed no signs of damage. He then whispered a prayer, and a golden light enveloped the guard closest to him in a long stream of cylindrical luminescence.

The guard shrieked and then dropped his sword. “Aye, thank you. Aye, my friend, release me from my damnation.”

Vesperin tried to use the same prayer as Kerad, but the second guard did not fall so easily. “This one resists the will of Loracia!” Vesperin panicked. “I can’t kill it!”

“Of course not, it’s already dead, young priest,” Kerad said. “He was an elf once, lad. You will have to use another prayer for the elves.”

Vesperin spoke a prayer Dorenn recognized as elvish, and the second guard collapsed to dust engulfed in a ray of white light.

The party moved in closer to Tatrice and noticed that she had begun to pull herself to her feet.

“Stay still, Tatrice,” Kerad chided. “Movement will attract more of them.”

More greenish-blue fog began to pour in, and Kerad’s expression turned grave.

“What is it, Kerad?” Dorenn asked.

“The fog grows thicker. Soon we will be overrun. I pray we have the strength to defeat them.” Two more armored figures rounded the ruined gates.

Seancey stepped around Kerad. “Enough child’s play,” he said. He swung his sword with incredible ferocity, cleaving the nearest foe’s helm in half. Seancey used his sword to clear the way to Tatrice.

Dorenn staggered as he felt a sudden tingle in his head. Lady Shey and Gondrial both flinched.

“Do the Enforcers have offensive spells?” Gondrial asked Kerad.

“The creatures I sensed behind us have all moved off to the edge of the forest,” Kerad observed. “I have not been privy to any information as to whether or not Enforcers have the knowledge to use offensive enchantments; however, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“The fools,” Lady Shey said. “They have followed us into the forest. They will be killed.”

Kerad nodded. “Most certainly.”

“Wait a minute, then how are we going to get out of here?” Gondrial asked.

Lady Shey opened the tome and began reciting the travel spell.

“Nay, my lady, that spell will not work properly here. This place is cursed to prevent the inhabitants from ever leaving this forest, and arcane spells are particularly dangerous. Only the prayers of Loracia should be uttered here.”

Lady Shey stopped and closed the book. “You mean we have to leave here on foot?”

“Aye, it is the only way to leave here.”

Gondrial looked sideways at Lady Shey.

Disembodied random screams from somewhere in the distance made Dorenn’s adrenaline soar. In one fluid motion of excitement and fear, Dorenn lunged forward and reached for Tatrice, pulling her to her feet by her forearms. She turned into him, and he embraced her tightly. Tatrice returned the embrace, and Dorenn felt her chest heave against his. “It will be all right, I have you now,” Dorenn consoled. His heart pounded furiously.