The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One) (15 page)

Unwelcome Guest

A
shel had been walking for days now, dragging himself along the best he could, surviving on wild mushrooms and linberries. 
West,
he thought. 
I must reach them in time.
  He now knew who he was, but also knew that who he was had changed.  The three people he’d seen in his mind’s eye were his friends.  Of the three, the big man and the girl were the only family he’d ever known.

He had absorbed some or all of the other wizard’s energy.  This is what had brought him back, what had literally raised him from his shallow grave.  Moment by moment, he could feel the magic within him growing stronger, the flow turning from a trickle into a torrent.  The trouble was, magic wasn’t all that he’d absorbed.  He had at first thought the transference of power to be an accident, but now knew the truth.  Grindark, the other wizard, had done it on purpose, in a desperate attempt to save himself.  That, ironically enough, was the only reason why Ashel still lived.

Over the last few days, bits and pieces of Ashel’s past had gradually begun to return to him.  Unfortunately, parts of Grindark’s past were there as well, vying for attention.  It was an uneasy, an
unholy,
union.  The contents of two minds forced into one, bound together like pages in a book, one atop the other.

Ashel had tried very hard to block all but his own memories out, for the man had done unspeakable things while in service to the Lost One.  As horrible as they were, however, they now appeared irrevocably linked to his own—the pungent stink of warm blood, the sound of shrill screams echoing down dark hallways, the salty tang of raw flesh on his tongue—it was all far too vivid.

Yes, Grindark had been a very evil man.  The joy he’d felt while conducting his experiments was, to say the least, obscene.  He’d taken great pride in developing new and ever more horrific methods of torture.  One such method involved keeping his subjects conscious while he, one by one, surgically removed their vital organs.  The more they suffered, the more pleasure he derived.  Grindark’s emotions were so out of control that, at times, Ashel felt overwhelmed by them.

What was that?
he thought.  He could have sworn he heard something, something like quiet laughter….  He looked around, but there was no one there.  He was alone.  This was not the first time this had happened.  His mental discipline was slipping, allowing room for the occasional aberrant thought, the sort of imaginative disruption he had always detested in others.  After all those years of study, it seemed especially abhorrent that he should be thus afflicted.  Weak-witted fools were given to fancy—not Ashel Tevellin.

He became more and more disconcerted each time it happened, mainly because he was trying with all his will to maintain focus, a state known as
Fey
, the art of emptying one’s mind to achieve peace, a kind of meditation, a balancing of the inner harmonics.  Ashel used to be a Fey master.  Now his mind was an unruly beast, barely recognizable to him, full of overgrown paths and hidden traps.

Thanks to Grindark, he now knew what the Lost One was planning.  He had to hold on long enough to warn his friends, both for their safety and so that they could warn Rogar.  He had to reach them before it was too late.  Unless he intervened, none would survive.

This gave him purpose, a reason to endure, which was good, considering how weak and tired he was…more tired than he’d ever been.  He couldn’t sleep, not like he used to.  The second sight was always with him when he closed his eyes, and his body still felt awkward and stiff, as though unable to break free from the chill of the grave.  He knew he was living on borrowed time—time lent to him by a madman.

Grindark had possessed great physical strength for a wizard.  Ashel, by contrast, had always been frail.  But now, because of Grindark’s memories, he knew what it was like to rip a man’s arms from their sockets with his bare hands, to stay up for days at a time without becoming ill, and to, in general, be utterly full of vitality.

Ashel had succeeded, after many failed attempts, to contact Andaris.  For some reason, perhaps because Andaris was from another place, and or time, his mind was much more open to him than Gaven’s or Trilla’s.  The question was, would Andaris remember the dream, and if so, would he heed it?  Ashel didn’t dare contact him again, at least not until he had a chance to recover.  The strain had almost been too much for him.  The magic coursing through him was not easy to control.  One wrong step, and he would be swept away by it, drowned beneath a rising river of raging currents and shifting shores.

Ashel!
whispered a voice.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

You know who I am, for I am you and you are me.  I’ve been with you all along, Ashel.  We’ve talked many times before.  Don’t you remember?

“No!” he shouted.  “Get out of my head!  I am not you!”

Are you sure?
asked the voice. 
Can you really be certain where I begin and you end?  What if those memories you so abhor…are in fact your own?  Come now, end this foolishness, and embrace what you know in your heart to be true.  You cannot hide from yourself, Ashel.  Oh yes.  I know.  I can feel your longing.  All you need do is open your heart to me, and all that you desire will be yours!

Several images flashed through Ashel’s mind.  He saw himself sitting on an ivory throne in a cathedral full of people paying tribute to him, saw himself leading a great army into battle against the Lost One and his shapelings, saw himself standing at an altar with a golden crown on his head, preparing to say his vows to Trilla—who he had loved since he was a boy, but had always known was beyond his reach.  In the images he was respected, even revered, powerfully built and glowing with both happiness and good health.  Clearly, he had been shown that which his heart most desired.

You need not use what I have given you for evil,
cooed the voice.
Unite with me, and together we will fight the Lost One.  For you see, as I have darkened your soul, you have lightened mine.  I promise you, do as I say and all that you have seen will come to pass!  But deny me, and you will be consumed, and darkness will cover the land forever!

“Leave me alone!” Ashel yelled.  “I do not believe your lies!”

No matter,
Grindark said.
  I do not require your belief.  Besides, there is plenty of time to convince you, for we are joined for life.  Resist all you like.  It will avail you not.  In time, you will come to accept what I am telling you.

“Never!” Ashel cried.  “I would sooner die!”

Grindark chuckled. 
Tsk, tsk, Ashel.  You know better than to lie to yourself.

Tinar!

The shapeling snarled, tightened its hold on Trilla, and surged forward.  What was happening?  Was it running from something, or towards something?  Its heart pounded in her ears, its breath ragged and foul against her skin, reeking of rotting meat.  She gagged from the stench—then screamed as the end of a blade jutted through the back of the shapeling’s mouth.  Blood gushed onto her upturned face, burning her eyes.

And then she was falling, spilling from the shapeling’s arms as it hit the ground.  She rolled to the side, somehow avoiding being crushed, rose to a knee, and rubbed the steaming gore from her eyes.

There, walking slowly towards her, was Gaven.  He held his sword loosely, point dragging on the ground behind him.  When he reached her, he stood over her, as if to make certain she was all right.  He tried to speak, then the light left his eyes, and he crumpled to the ground.

***

Feeling Jade’s nose snuffling in his ear, Andaris laughed, opened his eyes, and reached out to pet her.  The sun shone bright, making him blink, but he could see well enough to determine that he was in the center of a small clearing, surrounded by forest, lying on a pallet of damp leaves.  This part of the forest was comprised almost entirely of oaks--old ones, with deep roots, thick bark, and squat trunks--interrupted only occasionally by the rogue evergreen.  Andaris supposed they had been standing here long before he was born, and would remain standing here long after he died.

“It’s kind of a comfort, isn’t it?” he asked Jade, turning onto his side.

Trilla clapped her hands together in excitement.  “He’s awake!” she yelled, running to him.  Once there, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

Andaris wrapped her in his arms.

“Thank Rodan,” she said, somewhat out of breath.  “We weren’t sure you were going to make it.”

“Me?  What about you?  How did you get free of that beast?”

Her eyes went to Gaven, filling with gratitude.  “He ran it down and stabbed it through the back of the head.”

“You collapsed shortly before we reached her,” Gaven explained.  “The strain was too much on you, after everything else.  Jade stayed with you while I kept running, but even I fell after bringing the thing down.  Trilla says the elixir uses energy the body doesn’t have to spare.  As long as you’ve been out, we were afraid it had taken too much.  I thought sure….  Well, that is to say, we thought….”  Gaven cleared his throat and, with glassy eyes, looked to Trilla for help.

Andaris didn’t mind.  He knew it was just the big man’s way.  When it came to fighting, Gaven was fierce as a lion.  When it came to expressing tender emotion, he was timid as a mouse.

“I was so relieved to see you alive, curled on the ground beside Jade,” Trilla said.  “I thought I’d killed you.  Another inch down and—”

“No,” Andaris interrupted, lifting her chin so that he could look her in the eyes, “without you, I wouldn’t have been alive to have been shot.”

Trilla smiled through her tears and hugged him even harder.

“Now,” Andaris said as they pulled apart, “where are we?”

“No more than a couple hours from Tinar!” Gaven announced.  Grimacing, he touched two fingers to his right temple.  “I shouldn’t talk so loud,” he whispered.

Jade sidled up to Andaris and enthusiastically began to lick his face.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he told her, pulling away.  “I love you, too.”

With an abruptness that he found odd, she stopped licking him, tilted her head to the side, and scampered off.

“Weird dog,” he said, shaking his head.

After a meager meal of salted meat and stale bread, the three gathered their things and headed down the trail, looking forward to spending the day in the comparative safety and comfort of an actual town.  Before long, they left the wilds of the forest behind and entered a region of gently rolling grassland.  The open countryside stretched before them, a great valley bordered on either side by twin rivers, dotted here and there by copses of oak trees.  The soft blue of the sky and warm breeze worked to quiet their minds, making them feel more hopeful than they had since before Ashel’s death.

Sometime around mid-day, they came to the top of a broad hill, rim wreathed by green grass and little yellow flowers, shoulders slumping away to the north and south.  Below them, sprawled out in the center of a wide expanse of flatland, lay a great city.

“There it is!” said Gaven, excitement brightening his tone.

A plain stone wall ringed Tinar’s tangled streets, looking common and tired, leaning out here, slouching in there, as though in dire need of a holiday.  Dozens of sandstone buildings peeked above this wall, steep rooftops covered by thick tiles, once-bright colors made pale by the sun.

In spite of its drab appearance, Andaris could not have been more pleased, for Tinar represented safety, which, at the moment, made it as magnificent as any palace.

“I’ll grant you,” Gaven began in a defensive tone, mistaking his silence for disappointment, “it might not look like much from here, but you have to give it a chance.  Wait till you see the inside.  More goes on within those walls in a single night than most other places in a week.  Trust me, there’s much more to Tinar than meets the eye.  The food, the music, the--”

“Okay, okay,” Andaris interrupted, raising his hand, “I believe you.  I’m sure it’s astounding.”

“Come on,” Trilla suggested, heading towards the gates, “let’s just show him.”

Andaris couldn’t help but notice the mesmerizing way her hips moved as she walked.  Sometimes he wondered if she did it just to torment him.  Jade barked twice and trotted ahead to catch up to her.  Gaven grinned with all his teeth when he saw what Andaris was looking at.

Trilla stopped in front of two guards at the entrance—a thin young man with blonde hair and handsome features, and a grizzled older man with a ruddy complexion and shifty eyes.  Smiling shyly at them, she said something in a confidential tone, and walked through the stone archway.

Andaris felt a pang of jealousy as he watched the men ogle her retreating backside.  The older man’s shifty eyes followed her with more desire than would have been considered decent where Andaris came from, especially considering the age difference.

As he and Gaven approached the archway, the guards faced forward, lustful expressions replaced by practiced indifference.  Once inside, Andaris found that he agreed with Gaven.  The city literally throbbed with life, teeming with all manner of folk, most of whom had dark skin and green eyes.  Garbed in brightly colored sashes, they wore bangles of gold in their ears, on their arms, and around their necks.  They spoke in the common tongue, yet spoke with such thick accents that Andaris had to concentrate to understand.  Almost everyone they passed smiled and nodded, making them feel instantly welcome.

“This is a big trading hub,” Gaven explained.  “People come from miles around to buy and sell their wares.  Tinar is renowned for its hospitality.”

But Andaris was no longer listening.  In fact, he’d come to a stop right in the middle of the street, locking eyes with a smooth-skinned girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen.  Luxurious brown hair fell to her petite waist.  She combed it in her lap with slow, seductive strokes, flashing her emerald green eyes at him in the most extraordinary way.  He felt his body grow warm, almost as if he’d taken another swig of Ashel’s elixir.  She shifted, ever so slightly, but enough to rearrange her sashes to be even more revealing.  Now, the ornately patterned silk barely covered certain tantalizing areas of her anatomy.

“Come on,” Gaven said, shoving him from behind, “we need to find some rooms.”

“All right…hold on.  I’m going.  What’s the big rush, anyway?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute.  Just keep walking.”

After turning left onto a cobblestone street, they came to a vendor selling spiced sausages—a balding man in his mid-fifties with a mouthful of wooden teeth, a couple of which were cracked and beginning to grow mold.  They planned to eat as soon as they got to the inn, but the smoked meat smelled so good that Gaven stepped into line anyway.

Trilla and Jade, not seeming at all impressed by the sausages, went next door to take a look at some silk flowers being sold, according to the young boy yelling to the crowd, at a substantial discount.

“So…what was the deal back there?” Andaris asked.

Gaven shook his head and flashed Andaris a grin.  “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning in close, “I should have warned you.  You had a Tinarian woman--well, girl,” he corrected with a wink, “take note of you after only a few minutes in the city.  It’s a great honor, and really very rare for them to be interested in a foreigner.”

“Interested?” Andaris said in a tentative voice.

“Yeah,” Gaven answered.  “You see, Tinarians have very unusual views regarding social interaction.”

“How so?” Andaris asked, trying his best to sound casual.

“Well,” Gaven said with a gleam in his eyes, “each woman can have as many willing husbands as she wants.”

“Re…really?” Andaris stammered.

“Really,” Gaven assured him.  “It’s said they have insatiable appetites, if you catch my meaning, and consider it unfair to limit themselves to only one partner.”

Andaris studied his feet as they walked, struck momentarily speechless.  He had never heard of such a thing.  Why, the women back in Fairhaven would have been flabbergasted.  He smiled, imagining their shocked expressions and acerbic remarks, a smile made larger by the knowledge that some of Fairhaven’s most prudish seeming women were in fact its biggest hypocrites, condemning in public what they did in private.  Indeed, the ones who preached the loudest about fidelity were often the ones being the most unfaithful. 
At least the Tinarian women are honest about it,
Andaris thought.

“That girl back there wanted to initiate a courtship with you,” Gaven explained, his grin broadening.  “And, if you were to her liking, marry you.”

“Marry me?” Andaris said.  “But I—”

“By maintaining eye contact with her for so long, you were, by law, accepting her proposal.”

“I was what?  But that’s ridiculous!”

“Maybe so, but that’s why I got you out of there, before her father saw and decided to hold you to it.  So now you can relax, and begin pondering your good fortune in knowing me.”

“Yes…I suppose you’re right,” Andaris agreed, his face beginning to pale.  “Thank you.”

Gaven shrugged his shoulders.  “Let’s just get you off the street, before your magnetism disables yet another young nymph.”

“Hmph,” Trilla sniffed from behind, “I don’t see why you liked that bag of bones anyway.”  Jade barked as if in agreement, then both turned and stepped swiftly away.

After paying for their spiced sausages on a stick, Gaven and Andaris walked to where Trilla and Jade were waiting, beneath the broad, outstretched arms of a silverleaf maple tree.  The shade felt good after being in the sun so long, so they plopped to the ground and began to eat.

Ah
, Andaris thought, allowing the grease to run down his chin,
real food.

When they were finished, they licked their fingers, stood up, and continued down the bustling boulevard of shops and eateries, cutting a straight line through the many throngs of peddlers.

“I have the best cookware in town!” one yelled.  “For much less than the others!”

“Buy your soap here!” another one cried.  “It will get you the cleanest!”

“Two coppers per blanket!” offered a third.  “Two coppers off!”

“Fresh baked bread!” yelled a fourth.  “Two loaves for the price of one!”

“Never sharpen another blade!  Buy enchanted steel!”

“Want to be smarter?  Better looking?  We have potions for every occasion!”

Gaven and Trilla seemed somewhat annoyed by it all, but Andaris was fascinated.  Having come from a farming community, this was an entirely new experience for him.

“Well, here we are,” Gaven exclaimed a few minutes later.  “The Willing Wench!”

Andaris peered up at the swinging sign, the grainy surface of which featured a crude carving of a fat barmaid winking and hiking up her skirts.

“Gaven,” Trilla said in her best little girl voice, “could we
please
stay somewhere else?”

At first, the big man neither moved nor spoke, his face set in defiance.  A moment later, however, while looking into Trilla’s big, imploring eyes, he nodded.  She had him wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it.  “Sure,” he said with a sheepish grin.  “Come on, I know a place a little ways down.”  He was the best fighter Andaris had ever met.  He would pit him against anything or anybody—except for her.  Against her, he was defenseless.

The inn turned out to be farther away than Gaven remembered.  Nevertheless, within the hour, they found themselves sitting at a small round table, safe and secure within the highly respectable walls of the Golden Stag.  They had just sat down, and already Gaven looked bored.