Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (24 page)

“What was that all about?” Gondrial asked.

“Our chances have just improved greatly. The broodlord will be a great ally.”

Mavis entered the study. “I have turned back the beds, and the cook has stayed in the kitchen if anyone is hungry.”

“Thank you, Mavis,” Ianthill said. He raised his arms in welcome. “I leave you to yourselves. My home is open to you all.”

Dorenn tossed and turned on his feather bed. He dreamt of a beautiful woman with black hair and a pleasant smile. She kept repeating that she was there to save him, and Dorenn knew he felt love for her. His heart reached out for her.
No, I love Tatrice, and I plan to marry her
, he thought to himself. He awoke in a cold sweat. Shaken, he rose from bed and put on an overshirt. Cautiously, he moved from his room, walked down the hall three doors to where Tatrice was sleeping, and gently tapped on her door. There was no reply; again he tapped, and the door began to open. Tatrice saw who it was and opened the door with a smart yank. “Dorenn, what are you doing?”

“I am not sure. I had to see you. My dreams are troubling tonight.”

“Well, come inside before someone sees you,” she said, pulling him inside her room. After Dorenn was safely inside, she put her arms around him in a hug. “You had become so distant lately I thought you no longer cared for me.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth, Tat; I am just worried about our fate. All of this has happened so fast. It unnerves me to think we’ve come into the presence of men such as Ianthill, Morgoran, and their apprentices. Ianthill’s faith in me has to be a mistake. We are simple folk from Brookhaven, and I long to return to our home.” He held her close. “I had hoped to ask you to marry me this coming Summerwills day.”

“Oh, Dorenn, that doesn’t have to change.”

“Just hear me out,” he interrupted. He hesitated a moment to collect his thoughts. “I had hoped to settle down with you and eventually take over running Father’s inn. If Ianthill has his way, we will be far from Brookhaven on Summerwills day.”

“Maybe we should leave,” Tatrice suggested.

“What?”

“We should leave. You, Rennon, Vesperin, and I. Let us flee this place and go back to Brookhaven.”

“I thought of that already, but I don’t believe it would work, Tat. What if Ianthill, Lady Shey, and Gondrial are right? I wouldn’t want to run into Dramyds without them, would you?”

“No, what do we do then?”

Dorenn smiled, pushed her back and got on one knee.

“Dorenn, what are you doing?”

“Tatrice, I can think of no better time than now to ask you for your hand in marriage. I know it is traditional to ask for your hand from your father, and I promise I will as soon as we get back to Brookhaven. What do you say?”

“Oh Dorenn, I…”

“
FIRE
!” someone shouted from the hallway. “Everyone get out while you can!”

“Come on, Tatrice,” Dorenn said, grabbing hold of Tatrice’s hand.

As the two exited the room, they could see the flames for the first time coming up the stairway, blocking them in. Vesperin and Rennon joined them in the hallway. “Get your things,” Dorenn shouted, “and come to the far end of the hall.”

At the end of the hall, Dorenn opened the small window, and one by one, he threw their belongings out onto the lawn. “I saw a trellis here when we arrived. We should be able to climb down it.” The four friends climbed out of the window and made the short leap to the trellis as the flames inched closer to them. At the bottom of the trellis, Dorenn stood to the realization that he was face to face with a Dramyd. The foul beast bared its teeth and claws. Dorenn reached for his sword, but he had not buckled it on. Panic began to well up inside him.

“Run, Dorenn!” Tatrice shouted from the trellis. Dorenn prepared for the coming claw and teeth attack, but to his surprise, the Dramyd stayed its ground and screeched to alert the other Dramyds lurking in the darkness. Dorenn heard the singing of a sword, and he watched in shock as the Dramyd’s head sailed over him. Standing behind the fallen body of the decapitated Dramyd was Bren, his two swords drawn and gleaming in the moonlight. “Run to the docks, run!”

Vesperin and Rennon took off running as soon as their feet touched ground.

Bren helped Tatrice down from the trellis. “Ianthill and Lady Shey are near the road.” He pointed to the general direction. “Either find them or run to the docks.”

Dorenn, still holding Tatrice’s hand, ran in the direction the broodlord had pointed.

Dorenn noticed several dead Dramyds lying about. He spotted Ianthill and ran to him. “What happened here?”

“We sensed the Dramyds attacking, and we engaged them. We were too occupied fighting them off to see who started the fire or to warn you in time. Gondrial is searching the area, and the townspeople will arrive soon to help put out the flames. May I assume Rennon and Vesperin made it too?” Ianthill asked.

“Aye, they made it out of the building at least. I think Bren is going after them down to the docks,” Dorenn replied.

Dorenn observed Ianthill holding the tome Lady Shey had brought with her from Symbor. “We have to get to the docks and leave as soon as we can. This fire and these dead Dramyds will raise concerns and questions from the townsfolk that I dare not answer. Here, Dorenn, take Tatrice and Lady Shey and head for the dock. Moored to the seventh peer is a ship called
The Sea Goddess
. Go aboard and rouse the captain. His name is Felladan; tell him to make ready. I will round up the others and meet you there shortly. Tell him I want the ship to pull away from the docks as soon as I arrive.”

Dorenn nodded and then grabbed some of the equipment he had tossed out of the window. Tatrice and Lady Shey gathered up the rest. Just as the weight of the packs began to slow the three down, Rennon and Vesperin joined them and helped ease the burden.

Dorenn rubbed his tired shoulders. “Keep an eye out for a ship called
The Sea Goddess
when we get to the dock,” he told Rennon. “It is moored to the seventh peer.”

“
The Sea Goddess
it is,” Rennon replied.

As they reached the docks, Vesperin spotted the ship, and the small party made their way toward it.

“Ahoy, Captain Felladan,” Dorenn shouted as they ran aboard ship. “Rouse the ship. Ianthill says make ready for sail.”

“Who goes there?” a deep, raspy voice answered.

“Friends of Ianthill. Prepare the ship for sail.”

The captain came out of his cabin and started ringing a bell. Soon the ship was alive with activity.

“Keep the lights low, men; we travel out of the harbor in silence,” the captain shouted. Dorenn wondered why the captain was making so much noise if he wanted to leave silently.

Soon Ianthill, Bren, and Gondrial arrived, and the captain gave the order for the ship to leave the docks.

Dorenn could see the fire burning in the distance until the ship finally drifted out to sea. He wondered if the other buildings around Ianthill’s house had caught fire too.

Naneden stepped over the charred body of Dredor as he left his study.

“Clean that up,” he said to a maid as he passed her in the hall, “and make sure you call someone to bury it.” The maid hid her horror and managed to curtsy in acknowledgement.

As he entered his private gardens, Naneden sniffed the air. Rain clouds were gathering above.
A storm is brewing
, he thought. He plucked a red flower with large petals from a bush nearby and inhaled its fragrance. A slight rustling in the adjoining bushes made Naneden’s eyes narrow as he realized he was not alone. He inhaled the flower once more before he finally spoke. “The attack has failed, has it not?”

A voice that sounded as if someone were trying to speak while swallowing a stone issued from the bushes. “I fear what you ask is so, my lord.”

“What good are Dramyds if simple boys from a desolate mountain village can defeat them so easily?”

“They have some powerful help, my lord,” the voice said.

The flower in Naneden’s hand began to die and decay rapidly, turning to dust and falling between his fingers. “So do I, Drasmyd Duil, and I was under the impression that your underlings could defeat the help these boys have acquired. Will you force me to get involved? Do I have to illustrate to you what dark magic can do?”

The Drasmyd Duil cackled, which made even Naneden take a step back. “The army you would create would die before the clerics of Loracia alone. You need me, and I will deliver. Already our trap waits.”

Naneden felt a shiver as the creature gurgled and began flapping its leathery wings as it took flight. A sudden flash of lightning silhouetted the creature briefly in the stormy skies. “Fool thing. Toborne the Destroyer may have created them, but so far I am not impressed with the mighty, fearsome Drasmyd Duil or their underlings.” His nose twitched as he rounded back toward the castle. “I will have to create my own minions. Aye, I believe it is time.” Naneden clasped his hands together and snickered to himself as he entered the castle. He rushed through the corridors quickly before the paintings hanging in the hall had time to stare at him.

Chapter 13: Seeds of Prophecy

The harsh summer sun beat down relentlessly on the decks of the sail ship
The Sea Goddess
,
reflecting light and heat onto Dorenn and Tatrice as they stood looking at the Adracorian coast. The foliage along the coast was lush and green; the tree line stood like an impenetrable wall between land and sea. Due to unusually strong currents, the captain had decided to hug the Trigothian coastline on route to the Sythian forest. Reports of raging storms farther out to sea also insured him that he was making the right decision.

Both Sythia and Adracoria were once part of a great empire, but now each kingdom stood as individual monarchies with only the traditional Trigothian cultures in common. Ianthill had told Dorenn about the Trigothian civil wars and the splitting up of the empire after they had set sail the night before. Although Dorenn found the subject interesting, Ianthill did not seem to require sleep, and Dorenn was exhausted from a night without sleep. Much of the history went unheard.

Dorenn loitered on the deck near the bow of the ship. At his left, Rennon fished over the side. Rennon had traded one of the crewmembers a bag of tabac for a fishing pole. He had caught several good-sized fish in the two days since they had fled from Adrontear; he cleaned them and served them for evening meals. Dorenn found the change in menu refreshing. Vesperin was stowed away down below, performing deep meditative prayer in his cabin. Dorenn was glad that the cleric had finally gotten his sea legs. On the first day, Dorenn felt Vesperin might not make it to the Great Sythian Forest. His bout of seasickness had taken on legendary status among the sailors. Tatrice strolled the deck at Dorenn’s right, her sandy golden hair gently blowing in the salt sea air. She had not yet answered his question, and he was becoming increasingly concerned. He thought back to the night of the fire just after he had asked her a hundred times over. Did he see excitement in her face that night, or was she about to turn him down? Dorenn also figured she would have brought up the subject by now if she had intended to answer yes.

“What is it?” Tatrice asked, noticing he was deep in thought. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Dorenn replied, deciding to leave the subject alone long enough to give her time to think it out. At least, that is what he told himself.

Ianthill appeared behind them.

“There you are, Dorenn; I have been looking for you all over the ship.”

“Well, the ship isn’t that big, Ianthill.”

“Ah, so you are right,” Ianthill glanced at Tatrice. “However do you put up with him?”

“He makes me laugh, of course. Not that he’s particularly funny on purpose, but the fact that he doesn’t know he’s funny is what I love about him.” She kissed Dorenn lightly on the cheek. “I will leave you two to your business and go find Lady Shey and Enowene,” she said as she turned and disappeared behind the main mast.

Ianthill leaned farther against the wooden railing to observe Rennon fishing. “He caught supper yet?” Ianthill asked, producing his long-stemmed pipe from beneath his robes and stuffing the bowl full of tabac.