The Orb of Truth (The Horn King Series) (11 page)

“What magic is this, Human?”

“No time to explain, Master Dwarf. Quickly, gather some wood so we can start a fire.”

“Everything’s wet, Huey! It won’t ignite,” Dulgin responded.

“Trust me. I will be able to start the fire.”

Dulgin did as instructed. Bridazak was exhausted and barely awake. He had instinctively curled himself into a ball on the ground where he had been set down, trying to gather any warmth he could. Abawken was setting small river rocks around in a circle to contain the heat that would be generated from the fire. Once the Dwarf set the wood inside the stones, Abawken pulled out his scimitar once again and touched its tip to the wet wood, uttering a simple command word, “Esh”. It ignited into a brilliant fire as the magic of the blade was unleashed. He moved Bridazak closer to the flames and the rocks; the chills soon retreated and the rosy coloring returned to his cheeks. Bridazak heard little beyond the crackling snaps of the blaze next to him as he tried to rest. His fragmented thoughts dominated,
“I almost died today. If I did, would I be with Spilf? The Orb sent Abawken, and if he wasn’t here on this very day then I would surely be dead. I will have to thank the Orb. I will have to thank Abawken. I will have to thank Dulgin, or he will get upset for being left out of the thank-yous. Maybe I should apologize after the thank-yous for dragging them into all of this. I don’t know. I’m just so tired.”
He drifted off and fell asleep.

“Damn trolls,” Dulgin said under his breath. He addressed the human, who was staring into the fire, “You mind explaining what happened out there?”

“The water trolls have a home below the surface, and they grabbed our leader to have a snack later.”

“I’m not talking about that, ya blundering fool. How does someone walk on water and then start fires from thin air is what I’m after!”

“Oh, my apologies, Master Dwarf. This is called The Sword of the Elements.” He drew his blade and held it out for inspection, “It has been imbued with magical properties that revolve around fire, water, earth, and air.”

“And where does one find a blade such as that, might I ask?”

“Well, it was a gift.”

“Mighty fine gift. What did you have to do to get it?”

“Another time perhaps, Master Dwarf. It is a grand story and one I would like to tell, but let us be vigilant while we watch for our fearless leader here to come back to reality.”

“Ahhh, whatever Huey,” Dulgin relinquished the conversation and then dug inside his pack for some food.

“Why do you call me this name, Master Dulgin? I don’t understand,” the human questioned.

“That’s right, you wouldn’t understand so I ain’t bothering.”

Abawken smiled and then returned his attention back to Bridazak. “His life is strong. It is still unbelievable that I found him. I had searched for so long, for what I’d thought was a ghost.”

Dulgin poked a stick at the fire, “The Orb led you.”

“This is true, but there was a faith inside of me that drove me on each day.”

“I have faith in my axe.”

“As do I now, Master Dulgin. You are indeed skilled, but faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.”

“Speaking riddles to a Dwarf is not wise, but I get where you’re going with it.”

Abawken smiled again, “Excuse me, Master Dulgin, I will gather more wood and fresh water for Master Bridazak.”

The human lightly shook the Ordakian awake. He instantly sat up, startled and shouting. Bridazak’s eyes darted about, until he realized he had been dreaming. He was inside the fallen tree and the fire was now embers. The rain had ended, and rays of light broke through the upper canopy high above. Smells of wet leaves mingled with the musty mildew and the campfire inside their hollowed home. “How long was I out?”

“Several hours. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Let’s get moving.” He tried to get up on his own, but his legs wobbled. Abawken assisted him to his feet.

“Here, eat some of this, and make sure you get your fill of water.”

“I’m fine. I can eat along the way. Where is Dulgin?”

“He’s outside waiting, let’s say, eager to get started—to put it nicely.”

“You will get used to it. C’mon, the longer he waits the grumpier he gets.” Bridazak grabbed his pack and climbed out the opening. Abawken followed.

“Finally! I was starting to grow leaves hanging around here. Let’s find this temple and get out.”

“Glad you asked, my friend, I’m feeling better.”

Dulgin broadened his shoulders in true Dwarf fashion, and responded, “Good, cause I was going to leave your Daky-ass behind. Well, Abawken, you waiting for someone to hold your hand or are you going to lead?”

“My apologies, Master Dulgin.” The human quickly took the reigns and scouted ahead as always. They followed in tow, continuing their trek along the river.

Hours passed as they navigated the brush and woodland debris. Dulgin complained most of the time as the humidity increased and pesky skets were swatted with occasional slaps on arms and necks.

Bridazak heard it first—a new sound—a strange guttural clucking in the distance. “Do you hear that?”

“What now, ya blundering fool? I don’t hear nothin’.”

“It is coming from that way,” Abawken pointed a slight direction off from where they needed to go. “It sounds birdlike.”

“Mmmm, bird. That sounds good right about now. I could use a hot meal,” Dulgin rubbed his armored belly.

“Let’s check it out, then,” Bridazak said, feeling the hunger pangs also.

As they made their way through the thick green overgrowth, they heard the clucking turn into a clicking bravado which transformed slowly into a melodic whistle of soft tones. A wall of shrubs separated them from the mysterious prize that they tracked. Abawken pushed through slowly. The rustling of the branches caused the creature to cease its chime as the human broke free of the grasping leafy twigs. They emerged into an umbrella of the largest tree they had ever seen. It was impossible to see the top as the tree-sized trunks extended from the thirty-foot gargantuan base in all directions. They were completely shaded from any light, and fallen leaves were firmly matted down from something walking over them. The deep, earthy aroma of the environment mixed with the smell of a hen-house filled their nostrils. There was no sign of their prey as they entered its domain.

“Here birdy, birdy, birdy,” Dulgin whispered.

“I will look for a nest. Perhaps we can gather some eggs,” Abawken suggested.

“I don’t eat anything that comes out of a creature’s butt,” the Dwarf scoffed. “I’ll be getting the birdy while you forage for ass-droppings.”

They spread out. Bridazak spotted something at the base of the immense tree. He cautiously approached the odd, twig-like piece nestled amongst the leaves. He reached down and unearthed it from the colorful leafed layers and quickly realized it was a feather—a bright yellow plume covered in beige spots. A worried expression of realization hit him, “It’s a Varouche! We need to get out of here!”

“A what?” Dulgin questioned.

Suddenly, materializing behind the Dwarf was the legendary avian creature. Its chameleon power relinquished as it fanned out its glorious extended feathers behind its body.

“Dulgin, look out!”

The Dwarf turned to the see the eight-foot-tall beast. It’s long neck was a metallic, blue and green hue. Smaller decorative purple strands of frizzy fur topped its crown. The eyes were a prismatic display of beauty and the bone-white beak snapped a couple times in preparation of its meal.

“Nice birdy,” Dulgin backed away slowly.

The Varouche spun instantly and its colorful fan of feathers with whirling colors of the rainbow became a sharp blade-like weapon. Dulgin was slashed across his chest, straight through his armor. He winced from the pain of the deep gash, kneeling on the ground.

Bridazak pulled out an arrow and notched it quickly. He let it loose, but the Varouche brought up its plumed fan, blocking the arrow like a shield. The long-necked legend turned toward him and stomped with its clawed talons. It let out an ear-splitting cackle that caused Bridazak to drop his weapon and cover his ears.

Abawken curled around the base of the tree and slid to a stop, surveying the situation. He pointed his scimitar at the Varouche, uttering the simple command word, “Avir!” A funnel of air ten feet tall instantly shot forth and swallowed up the beast. Debris and leaves were gobbled up, spinning out of control inside the twister. A scream from the distressed bird bellowed from within. Abawken backed away to allow his magical entity to rip it to shreds. Electrical discharges sporadically sizzled around the whirling cyclone. The squawk of the Varouche finally dissipated, and the fighter waved his sword, dismissing the summoned elemental. The large bird fell to the ground and feathers shot out in all directions. Shredded patches of skin with strands of tuft was all that remained on its body. A silver colored tongue hung out of its beak.

Bridazak rushed to help Dulgin up. He was bleeding profusely and grimaced with clenched teeth as he stood.

“I worked up an appetite. I can smell it already,” Dulgin sputtered. “Abawken, start a fire with that fancy sword of yours.”

He gathered the wood while Bridazak helped his friend out of his armor to get a better look at his wound. A purplish, powdery substance stained the Dwarf’s skin around the cut. The Dak used some of their water supply to clean the area and shredded an extra tunic, wrapping it around Dulgin’s barrelled, red-furred chest. In the meantime, Abawken prepared their meal and soon the sweet smell of roasted Varouche captured their hearts.

“Too bad we don’t have any Dwarven Ale to go along with this.”

Bridazak picked at his food and stared at the pile of mixed feathers. He stood and walked over to grab one of them. “I’m keeping this, in honor of Spilf.”

“Me too,” Dulgin said. “Bring me one of them, would ya?”

“Make that two, Master Bridazak.” Abawken surprised them. Bridazak smiled in recognition of their new companion’s respect for their fallen friend he never met.

He held his feather up, as a toast, and his two comrades joined him, “We wish you were here with us Spilf, but we know you will always be here in spirit. We honor you my friend, my brother, and we will never forget you.”

“Well said, Master Bridazak. I look forward to getting to know him through you both. A part of him resides in each of you; as you have shared life together, he helped shape who you have become.”

“You are some talker, Huey, but I like it. Your words touched me.” Dulgin grimaced in pain again, and looked at Bridazak, “I recognize poison. That critter gave me something to remember.”

“We need to find a way to get him healed. Maybe the temple has someone there,” the Ordakian suggested.

“Come, no time to waste. Let us get back on track.”

Many hours of traveling had passed and the sun was quickly moving down to the west. The already dark environment was losing the little light that was allowed within its confines for the day. Abawken spotted a clearing up ahead, and hurried them to follow. They came to the opening along the river’s edge; it was circular in design with a strange, grassy field nestled inside the immense forest—an oddity that they might never be able to explain. The green blades of grass came to Bridazak’s chest as it swayed gently in the cool breeze that brushed over the top. There was a mysterious and strange glow to the meadow before them, but it didn’t stop them from entering into the confines. As they began to wade deeper into the sedge, the magical effects of the field made itself known to them. Small bits of dust floated into the air with each step they took.

“I feel strange,” Bridazak softly muttered.

“I feel good,” Dulgin responded with a drowsy smirk.

“Something is wrong.” Abawken’s speech slowed. He fell to one knee and then collapsed face first, pushing the grass blades down from his weight.

“Look, Abawken is sleepy,” Dulgin chimed slowly.

“Sleep is a good idea,” Bridazak said as he, too, collapsed.

“You guys are lightweights. That is why I can out-drink any of you blundering fools,” he slurred as he fell to the powerful enchantment.