Under the Shadow of Darkness: Book 1 of the Apprentice Series (7 page)

Bel shook the bartender who coughed hard. He was not dead. Yet. The young mage in training helped the man to stand.

“He was my partner,” The bartender said. “One of the first to go.”

Bel, seeing bite marks on the man’s chest, placed his hand over them and pushed in healing, hoping that it would be enough, hoping that the man would not join the dead in the forest. The man gasped hard as life entered him.

“He hated me. Thought I cheated him out of a sum of money. I didn’t. Honestly. I didn’t. Even in death, he cannot forgive. But I am innocent.”

Bel stood and left the man, walking toward the exit doors and the screams and moans and unknown chaos. Bel adjusted his shirt at the door, grabbed his breath and mumbled, “Okay. Let’s do this,” and opened the door and stepped out.

Nes’egrinon, Muolithnon and Kerlith were all in the street battling the ghoul-kind. The young man and his master had their hands on their mage-stones, blue and red lights swirling around them. The old wizard simply stood near them calmly. Some villagers were heaving oil from the second floors of their buildings. Others were throwing torches, trying to burn the creatures. Many of the dead, the more aggressive ones, ran from the surrounding forest into the village, attacking as they ran and continuing back into the forest in a loop. It was a constant stream of bestial ghouls whooping, screaming, swinging their arms and weapons, thirsty for blood. Most of the other ghoul-kind held back at the forest edge, watching like spectators, perhaps waiting for the town’s defenses to fail, the longing for blood on their faces mixed with a sort of guilty embarrassment at what they knew they were being driven to do. Bel realized that these were the simple townsfolk, recently dead, not wanting to become marauders like the others but yet still driven by the desire for blood, the desire for life. It was something that they could not escape. The others, the ones attacking, were, by their behavior and dress, the town outlaws, drunks and thieves. They howled, leapt, spun and made terrible, angry faces. How good could they expect their behavior to be in death considering how it was during their life times?
It is these evil dead that are the problem,
Bel thought.
If we can be rid of them, the others will not attack.

Bel called life into his staff and was surprised to see wisps of light flickering out of the surrounding villagers chests, some from the second floor balconies, and quickly gathering into the head of his staff. Bel said to himself, “This is real. This is real. This is what I have been training for the last six years. I am about to get into this real stuff. I am not a Fifth Year anymore. I am an apprentice. I am going to do this.” He stepped off the front porch and headed towards the others in the center of the roadway, uncertainty still shaking through his frame.

Nes’egrinon glanced over at Bel. “Fifth Year, quickly. Join us here. We want the ghoul-kind to focus their attacks on us. To keep the villagers out of the line of fire. They will be drawn to our mage-blood.”

He skipped over to them and held his staff high. He was nervous. He was shaking. But he was really excited. He knew the dead would stream toward them. No one knew why but ghoul-kind could smell mage-blood. And for some reason when one of the dead drank the blood of a mage, the effect lasted much, much longer. All the dead would want to drink the blood of the masters and Bel and Kerlith were standing next to these two giant targets.

What to do? What to do? What to do?
Bel knew that healing worked. Kerlith had told him as much and now he had seen it with his own eyes and by his own hands. But it was risky because he would have to touch the ghoul and he could only reliably do it to one at a time. Of course there was the trick that his master did, tricking the ghoul-kind into thinking that he could destroy them all with a word.
But how long would that last?
The villagers seemed to be doing all right with fire though. The ghouls were certainly susceptible to it. As soon as they caught fire they would immediately run back into the forest, screaming their dead heads off. Several trails of fire and burning ghoul entrails could be seen streaming into the forest. It smelled none too nice either.

A handful popped out from behind the edge of a wall and charged them. They were close, too close and running at them in a full gallop. Nes’egrinon slammed his staff into the ground, sending out a tremor, collapsing the group to the ground. Kerlith stumbled then latched onto Bel’s shoulder and braced himself, nearly falling down in the quake.

“Come! Let’s go!” howled the leader of the small band, pulling the arms of one of the others up and pointing toward the mages but the others retreated.

“Let’s see how much longer that works,” Muolithnon muttered under his breath.

Just then, a dead man leapt off a roof just over the young wizard’s head screaming, “Aaaahhhh!”

Kerlith quickly flashed his stone up high and called out, “” repelling the ghoul into the air and away from them.

“Nice,” Bel said but perspiration was heavy on his brow.

The four squeezed in, pushing their backs against each other and slowly rotating, knowing now that the attack could come from any direction.

Bel tried to focus his eyes on any incoming threat but he couldn’t get the smell of decaying vegetation and sloppy wet mud out of his mind. It invaded his nostrils the moment they arrived and it wouldn’t leave. Some smells you get used to if you are around them long enough. This wasn’t one of them. There was something primeval and base about the dank mud they were treading in. Bel morbidly thought,
Is this where I am to die? In this mud?

A larger group of them was gathering on the other side of the short street in the center of the village and it appeared one was addressing the crowd.

“A leader. Look. They have a leader,” Nes’egrinon whispered and dread seeped into Bel’s skin. The next onslaught would be coordinated.

The leader turned and walked slowly and alone towards the mages, them waiting, watching, not knowing if this might be a distraction or a ploy. A ghoul jumped out from between two building and the old wizard quickly flung him into the woods with a wave of his staff. Another ran by and oil splashed down on his head and a youngster, not yet a teenager threw a torch on him.

The gray skinned leader stopped about ten paces from them, slurped some blood out of a flask then opened his voice wide. “You can’t win, you know.”

He waited for a response but when none came he continued, “We ghoul-kind don’t need to sleep. We can keep up at this all night. And tomorrow. And the next day.” He was speaking loudly; loud enough so all the villagers could hear him. It was a mental barrage, psychology, and the worst volley of all to defend against.

Bel overheard a woman on the second floor say, “Oh my God. It’s the Mayor.”

The dead man took another draught of blood, then said, “You all just don’t understand! We wouldn’t do this if we didn’t have to! It is the hunger. The thirst for life. Nothing can stand against it. Not patience, not fear, not superstitious beliefs. No, not even disgust. Do not think that you are better than us for when it comes upon you, you will abandon everything to satiate this lingering starvation. I know. I have fought it with all my strength and I have failed. This is torment! And you have within you the ability to take it away! Even if just for a moment. A few drops of blood. Please! You can stop this! Just a few drops of blood from each of you.”

The mayor turned, all eyes on him, and joined his group at the end of the street. They waited for some moments, glancing at each other wildly, expectantly, hooting shrilly as if they were wild dogs about to be fed.

What he said didn’t matter; everyone knew it was all a lie. There wasn’t enough blood in all the living to satisfy all the dead. And what about when it wore off? They would want more. And more. And more.

They charged, a stampeding army, sordid, savage, beating their chests, the thought of blood only moments away driving a wild glaze into their eyes. Villagers desperately filled buckets with oil as the blitz closed in while others ran somewhere, anywhere, to hide. But everyone knew there was nowhere to hide. Not from them.

There must be something we can do to scare them off that does not involve letting them get too close.
Bel thought on this as the group of dead quickly approached.
Fear,
Bel thought.
Back at Lasaat, we used Fear on each other in our mock mage battles.
Bel remembered those days fondly.
Fear. Yes, that’s it. That’s what the Mayor said too.
If only there were something like Fear that we could push into the ghoul-kind.
Then it came to him. Bel raised both of his hands, his staff high in the air and pushed out as he said the words in the ancient language, “”

Suddenly the group of approaching ghoul-kind wailed out in fear, terror on every one of their faces. They ran into the forest howling in panic. Bel smiled. He was shocked that it actually worked.

Kerlith said, “What did you do?” as his master and Nes’egrinon stood nearby.

Bel answered, “What is the opposite of fear, but love? An old love spell, only good for barmaids trying to catch her a sailor probably. That’s what I used. I figured it would—”

The old wizard interrupted, “See, I told you. He’s not as dumb as he looks. That’s why I picked him. Still talks too much though.”

“Shall we then?” Muolithnon said gruffly.

The four joined hands. Nes’egrinon raised up their arms and cried out, “Focus. Focus. Not yet. Concentrate. Focus it. Wait for it. Okay. Okay. Now!”

They released a sudden burst of power, concentrated in the form of the love spell and a ripple erupted and washed out of them and outward, outward, outward, a light purple, misty cloud carrying a strong scent of jasmine out and over both the people and ghoul-kind alike, extending out into the forest. They released their hands and let their arms fall, exhausted. Muolithnon slumped his chin into his chest and heaved. Bel felt like he might collapse but was suddenly jolted upright by the high-pitched shrieks of the dead. They scrambled and ran as fast as they could in an unorganized chaotic jumble of gray limbs fighting each other to be the first ones out of the town. They scrambled this way and that, seemingly not knowing which way led to an escape. The four stood and watched as ghoul-kind fell from second floor balconies and clamored from under porches and behind barns. They had been lying in wait everywhere! They fled.

The old mage said softly, “Keep your mouths shut and follow my lead.” He walked back towards the inn.

People were gathering themselves and their belongs, men helping women, women helping men, softly, kindly, with a smile, a nod, a caress and a gesture. As they neared the entrance to the inn several women appeared near the door, smiles wide and beaming.

“No need to thank us, ladies. Just another day on the job for a wizard of the wood,” the old mage said.

“Oh no. We really need to thank you. Really we do. Really, really we do. How about a massage?” one said.

Another said, “How about a manicure? A pedicure? I can draw you a bath? Anything. Ask anything. Please. Please. Ask, please.”

Two younger ones swooped around the two mages and stood on either side of Kerlith and Bel. One said, “We would really, really like to thank your young assistants. It wouldn’t be right for us not to.”

The other added, “Yes, yes, yes. It is our custom. We mustn’t be rude. Please come with us. Come with us, right away.” The two girls grabbed the boys’ arms and began to tug.

Other girls arrived and pushed the first group of girls back. “Hey, we need to thank them too.”

“Me first.”

“No! Me!”

Nes’egrinon bellowed, “Quiet! That’s what I was afraid of. Like a cackling bunch of hens. That’s exactly what I don’t need now. Women!”

Muolithnon interrupted, “Err, Master Archmage? Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind being thanked just a little.”

“Yeah!” Harped from the women. “See! See! He wants to be thanked.”

“I saw him first!”

“Get away! He’s mine!”

The old man threw his hands in the air and replied, “Do what you want just don’t wake me up. Fifth Year let’s go. You’ll thank me in the morning for saving you from
these
.”

Bel was not so sure about that last statement but he followed his master into the inn, up the stairs and back into his bed. But there would be no sleep for him this night. He had too much to dwell on.

“Love magic, yeah, yeah, yeah. Making love magic. Oh yeah, I love me some love making magic. Yeah.”

“Is he going to be like that all morning?” Bel asked Kerlith.

Kerlith shrugged his shoulders as his master danced around their room.

Nes’egrinon said, “It’s about time we move on from this place. We can steal away while the ghoul-kind are asleep in the forest and the village folk should have at least a few days respite after what happened last night. Fifth Year, by the way, I didn’t get a chance to compliment you.”

Bel and Kerlith both turned their attention to the old mage.

He looked up and them and squinted. “Oh, why are you two staring at me?”

Bel replied, “A compliment? You said something about a compliment?”

“I said I didn’t get a chance to give you one. I didn’t say I was planning on doing it, did I? Well anyway, good job. Now let’s get this place packed up and ready. We’re leaving shortly.”

Muolithnon interrupted, “Master Archmage, the villagers, they would really like us to stay. At least one more day. You know I don’t get away from the stonecutters too much and these fair maidens in your wood have taken a liking… I mean, it would be better if we stayed one more day, just to make sure that the ghouls really got the message. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t think. This was all your idea. You’re the one who dragged me out here. But if we stay here too long I just might head back home. No need for me to stick around while you cast love spells. That’s for sure. Listen, what’s your problem anyway? Can’t get a date amongst the stonecutters, huh? You must be uglier than I thought. And what about the ban? You took the vow didn’t you?”