Suzerain of the Beast (Vision Dream Series Book 3), page 50
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Jesdoril disappeared through the tent flap of Lord Minegreisel’s tent and started towards the western edge of the Darus camp. He paused at the healer’s tent only long enough to relay Mersarahtina’s message, and take a heavy traveling torch. Jesdoril then pressed on at a fast trot in the direction he believed the cemetery was located. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he trotted along. He worried about the strange illness that had suddenly struck Prince Dareldin, leaving the prince unconscious on the tent floor. Jesdoril remembered hearing the story about how tainted wine served to the Palzintine nobles by Lord Snederburry had made those nobles extremely ill and wondered if this is what happened to the prince.
No! This was different. Poison does not make a man glow like a lamp!
The look on Mersarahtina’s face also gave him cause to worry, too. It was the look of controlled panic. Clearly she had no idea what kind of malady had befallen the prince...or what to do to help him. Lair and Felly were their only hope.
If he could find the children.
It wasn’t long before Jesdoril reached the first ridge, at the top of which he spotted the second rise just ahead. He kept up his quick pace and swiftly made it to the crest of the second ridge. Just below him, he saw a small clearing. The clearing was filled with dozens of black dots jetting out of a sea of white snow.
The cemetery.
He scanned the whole clearing below and saw no one visible anywhere, nor did he see any sign of the children. Then he caught sight of what looked like a cellar entrance, a black nearly perfect rectangle marring the continuous tone of the snow. Determined to find the children no matter what, Jesdoril plunged down the rise and headed towards the dark rectangle. At the mouth of it, he saw a set of stone steps descending into this gaping maw. He waved his torch at the entrance, but it was as if the darkness below ground devoured all the light from his torch. Jesdoril was getting ready to descend when he heard voices. The muffled voices didn’t sound like the children. If Lair and Felly were down there…they were not alone.
The knight drew his sword. The best thing to do was charge down there and take the enemy by surprise. Jesdoril readied himself then with his sword held before him and hollering his battle cry for effect, he charged downward.
“For the prince!”
As he rushed down the stone steps, he hit a slick spot and lost his footing. Down he tumbled. His sword left his hand sometime during the fall and went clanging down the steps and into the dark somewhere. So did his torch. After what seemed like an eternity of falling and tumbling, Jesdoril hit the stone bottom hard. For a moment everything was silent. He wanted to lay there for a while, but he had to force himself up in case he was attacked. With some effort he rose to a standing position. Not far from where he stood, he spotted the glint of his sword and the dancing light of his still lit torch. Retrieving both, he looked around at the empty chamber.
From where had those voices come?
Then he noticed a rectangular hole in the floor of the chamber. He could just make out a step or two leading downward.
Wonderful! Another hole in the ground, he thought with dismay.
Holding his sword in one hand and his torch in the other, he cautiously approached the opening. He heard something soft at first then louder and louder. It was the sound of footsteps. Dozens and dozens of them, like an entire squad rushing up the lower staircase to meet him. There was not enough time to escape up the first set of stairs, so Jesdoril would have to face the entire rabble alone. He backed away from the hole a little and prepared himself for a hopeless battle. The brilliant light of torches temporarily blinded Jesdoril, and he could not get a good look at how many emerged from the steps. He shielded his eyes and in that bit of shadow, he made out two forms…and only two forms standing there.
“You two!” exclaimed the knight.
“Jesdoril!” said Felly and Lair together. “You have come back!”
“I thought a small army was coming up the steps,” said Jesdoril.
“It is a simple spell which amplifies our footsteps a thousand times,” explained Lair. “Not very useful on a battlefield, but effective within these close stone walls.”
“I thought I heard voices down here. Are you sure you two are alone?”
“There is no one else,” said Felly.
“I need you both to follow me to Lord Minegreisel’s tent immediately. Something has happened to Prince Dareldin, and we need your expertise,” said Jesdoril.
“Is that not a healer’s duty?” wondered Lair.
“Normally, yes. But…” Jesdoril could not think of the right words to explain the situation. “You will just have to come and see for yourselves. Come, we must hurry.”
❖ CHAPTER 49 ❖
IVINDSET CREPT SLOWLY down the trail as he neared the place where he had last seen his brother. He carried one of the enemy swords he had grabbed during their escape. It was late at night, and it was dark. He had to rely on what little moonlight there was reflecting off of patches of snow to help him see his way back to where he left Arlinset. He searched the area for a time, but he found no sign of either his brother or the Venordaladian guards. He was not sure if this was a good sign or a bad one. He worked his way all the way back to the gate of the Venordaladian camp. There, guarding the gate, were five soldiers. The soldiers seemed relaxed.
Had the search party with the lizard already returned to camp, wondered Ivindset.
That would mean his brother was….no, he had to press on with his search. Arlinset was a survivor. May the Infinite Spirit protect him.
He remembered that his brother had made most of his false trails snaking away eastward from the gate, so Ivindset continued on towards the East. After a time, he came to a clearing. In its midst was a grove of several gigantic fir trees. As Ivindset neared the grove, he heard a great commotion heading towards him from the east end of the clearing. That side of the clearing suddenly lit up from dozens of torches as one massive lizard beast followed by twenty Venordaladian guards entered the clearing. Ivindset ran towards the grove for cover. But just as he reached the trees he was discovered.
“There’s one over there!” yelled someone.
“Halt or die, dog!” hollered another.
Ivindset stopped before the largest tree of the grove and raised his hands in the air.
“That be the dog, Ivindset! The one that started all this!” said one that Ivindset recognized as Saaz.
“Saaz, Saaz, funny meeting you out here,” said Ivindset.
“Feed him to the lizard!”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, no need to upset the creature’s delicate stomach with the likes of me,” stalled Ivindset.
“Feed him! Feed him!” chanted the men, as they surrounded Ivindset near the big tree.
The soldier stepped back as the Verka handler maneuvered the lizard towards Ivindset. He desperately tried to think of away to escape the beast, but he knew he was trapped…trapped for good this time. The beast hissed at him and then roared. It switched its tail expectantly, hoping for fresh meat. Whenever these lizards worked closely with Venordaladian soldiers in battle, it took all the Verka’s skills and tricks to keep the beasts from killing and eating the soldiers surrounding them. Ivindset always suspected there was some kind of dark magic from their high sorcerer who is known by the name Shutharja that aided the Verkas in controlling the lizards. Ivindset had once overheard some of the guards talking about it, and how they hated working near these unpredictable creatures. The lizard beast hissed again, and Ivindset got a good look at its unnaturally large, razor-sharp teeth. He remembered how dark magic was used to transform the lizards into towering grotesque monsters during the invasion of Palzintine. Even in its diminutive state, this lizard beast weighed about as much as a dozen soldiers…maybe more. For the second time this night, Ivindset was facing certain death. He saw that the soldiers around him were eager to see him ripped to shreds by the beast. The Daravinian scout kept glancing around, looking for some kind of way out of this mess. He noticed the large fir tree in the center of the grove, which towered over all of them. He could, if he was fast enough and lucky enough, escape the beast by climbing up this tree, but the Venordaladians would surely just climb up after him or simply cut the tree down with him in it.
Then something fell out of the sky and landed near the beast. The soldiers stopped their heckling and stared at the item. Then a second item landed on some of the soldiers standing next to the beast. Ivindset looked closer at the two items. They were…a tunic and a pair of trousers. Both were drenched in blood!
The gigantic lizard instantly went berserk. Whipping its massive head around toward the item that fell near the soldiers, flinging its Verka handler, who was holding its chains, into the air. When the Verka hit the ground, it was out cold. The lizard beast, sensing its freedom, charged the soldiers near the blood-soak garment, who then scattered for their lives. The lizard beast managed to catch one of the guards in its huge jaws, crushing the man’s head before biting his head clean off. The guard’s headless body stood still for a moment before tumbling to the ground. Ivindset seized upon the opportunity presented him by the panic and confusion that the out-of-control reptile offered him. He rushed over to the tallest tree and began to shimmy up its myriad of snow-covered branches.
He put his stolen sword in his trousers to help him ascend the tree more quickly. He had made it up only a few of the fat lower branches when he heard the lizard beast suddenly rip at the tree. It wasn’t after him. It was just snapping and attacking everything around it. It seemed that the smell and taste of blood drove the beast into a feeding frenzy. Ivindset mustered all the strength he could just to grab branch-after-branch in an attempt to escape the carnage. He heard Venordaladian soldiers screaming in pain somewhere in the dark. Then something latched onto his ankle with an iron grip. He looked down and saw a Venordaladian guard coming up the tree. The guard yanked on Ivindset’s ankle in an attempt to hurl him to the ground so that the guard could reach the safety of the higher branches first. Ivindset tried to kick at the guard, but the man had too tight of a grip on Ivindset’s ankle for the kicks to have too much of an effect. He wanted to reach for his sword and hack the man till he released his ankle, but if Ivindset loosened the hold of either of his hands on the tree branch, he was sure to fall to the ground and attract the attention of the beast. So Ivindset just hung on as hard as he could. The guard tugged harder and harder on Ivindset’s ankle in his effort to dislodge the Daravinian, when suddenly the man’s eyes went wide and the man let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Then the force of which the man was pulling Ivindset down increased by what seemed like tenfold. Ivindset arms were strained to their limits. He bit down so hard on his own teeth that he thought they would shatter in his mouth at any second. He looked down to see the guard’s head slumped and his eyes closed. And below Ivindset stared down into a set of huge yellow eyes.
The lizard beast!
It had killed the guard and was pulling his lifeless body out of the tree. And that body still had a death grip on Ivindset’s leg, and now he was about to be added to the lizard’s meal. The Daravinian scout kicked furiously at the now-dead guard. Finally, Ivindset felt the horrific downward pressure vanish. He looked down and caught a glimpse of the lizard beast dragging the guard’s body away from the tree and into the clearing somewhere. Ivindset vomited, then continued his climb to the upper reaches of the fir tree. As he got closer to the top he heard something rustling above him. Looking up he spotted a naked behind with a large birthmark…a mark that he recognized.
“Arlinset?”
“Brother, you finally made it up here,” said Arlinset. “I thought you were a dead man a couple of times there.”
“Why are you naked in this tree?”
“I threw my bloody clothes down there to save you,” explained Arlinset. “Now give me your cloak before I freeze to death.”
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“We are going down to Emlil Village to steal some food and weapons from the enemy garrisoned there,” said Captain Zemmerdar as he strapped on his sword. “There is a contingent of about twenty Venordaladians or so. We sure could use your powers to help us carry out this raid. What do you say?”
“I…I do not think I should—” started Ardwyrin.
“He is not ready for this. He will kill us all before a single Venordaladian is harmed,” growled a female voice.
Ardwyrin glanced up to see Trevelarna getting ready to go on the raid. Her unkempt brown hair looked wonderful in the shifting light of the cooking fire.
“I think the lad can decide for himself if he is ready,” said Captain Zemmerdar.
“You think wrong then,” was her answer.
Why was she always trying to aggravate him? He would show her that his power of restraint was every bit as useful as his anger.
“All right, I will do it,” said Ardwyrin defiantly.
Instead of sarcasm in her eyes, he saw worry.
Was it worry for herself and her friends or for him?
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The fifteen-man raiding party crouched on a hillside overlooking the village of Emlil. Below they could see lights burning in several long, thatched-roofed buildings that the Venordaladians had taken up residence in. Ardwyrin was told that, before the invasion, these granaries had once housed the local bounty, which was to be sold at the markets in the capital, Palzin. Three of the granaries were still filled with grain, while the rest had been turned into a barracks for the Venordaladians, securing food for their army. The object of the raid was not to drive out the Venordaladians this time, but to steal food and weapons from them. Just behind them was a high-sided wagon that Ardwyrin was to drive into the village to one of the granaries in order to fill his wagon full of grain and weapons. If it became necessary, he was to use his magic in any way he could to help get the job done.
“A villager has told us that the enemy stores its weapons in the fourth granary. Next to that, in the fifth granary, are burlap bags of grain ready to ship to their army,” explained Captain Zemmerdar. “Ardwyrin, you need to park the wagon between the fourth and fifth granary, right over there.”
The captain pointed to two dark buildings that were close to each other.
“I understand,” replied Ardwyrin.
“If the enemy comes, throw up a wall of fire to block them so we can all escape,” advised the captain.
“I can do that,” Ardwyrin assured him.
Perhaps I will not even need to use any magic for this, Ardwyrin secretly hoped.
“Trevelarna, you Gien, Marl, Sek station yourselves around the perimeter and as watches,” said Captain Zemmerdar.
“Aye,” said Trevelarna and the three others of her team nodded their acknowledgement of their roles.
“Kem, you take your squad to the grain and load as much as you can as fast as you can into the wagon, while I will take my men to secure as many weapons as we can carry,” said the captain.
The burly man Ardwyrin knew as Kem nodded his head.
“Then let us go,” said Captain Zemmerdar.
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Ardwyrin waited atop of the wagon, reins in hand, while the men of Captain Zemmerdar and Kem raiders went about their business of pilfering the enemy’s supplies. Even though it was dark, he could make out Trevelarna just ahead of him. He hated for her to be in such danger, but he could tell by the excitement in her eyes that she was in her element.
She was a strange lass, that one.
Kem and his five men came out of the fifth granary house carrying sacks filled with grain. Kem’s men set their burdens down in the back of the wagon as carefully as they could so as not to make too much noise. Kem made silent hand signals instructing his men where to place the sacks to ensure that they could fit as many as possible. Next Captain Zemmerdar and his team emerged from the fourth granary building, their arms filled with all types of weapons. They tucked the weapons around the grain sacks as tightly as they could. Ardwyrin wondered if his single horse could pull all these supplies. In no time, the wagon was getting very full.
“This will be the last load for both of us,” Captain Zemmerdar whispered to Kem.
Kem nodded in agreement. The Captain then made a signal to Trevelarna and her lookouts that this was the last load.
Ardwyrin was nervous, but everything seemed to be going according to plan. He was glad that only his cart driving skills were all that was needed during this raid. Soon they would all be back at camp and the Venordaladians would not be the wiser.
“What did I tells ya villagers about being ‘roun here at night?” growled an unfamiliar voice behind Ardwyrin. He felt a point of a sword stinging his back. “Ya here stealin’? The last one caught stealin’ is hangin’ from a tree outside of the village. Ya thinkin’ of joinin’ him?”
Ardwyrin glanced over at Trevelarna and just caught her and her team melting deeper into the shadows. But he had to warn the men in the granary houses about the situation.
What would a villager do?
“No, no. Pardons for the late hour, Sir,” said Ardwyrin, loudly, in his best meek voice. “But I was told to bring these supplies here by soldiers. That ye would take ‘em this load at this place. Am I at the right place?”
Ardwyrin hoped that both Captain Zemmerdar and Kem heard him. If the rest of the party showed up carrying the last load, they were all done for. This way, only Ardwyrin was in danger. He had to keep calm.
I can get through this.
The Venordaladian looked again at the grain sacks and picked up one of the weapons and examined it.
“Ya might be. But to me’s these looks like they came from my stores here,” said the Venordaladian with suspicion.
“I know not of these things. Nothing be all I know,” said Ardwyrin, trying to sound upset. “I…I just do as I be told. I always do as I be told. That why they let me drive the cart. I always drive the cart like I be told. They told me ye would take ‘em when I gots here.”
