Chronicles of Den'dra: A Land Torn: Ancient Powers Awaken Page 14

  Cero wasn’t sure what to think if he could have formed coherent thoughts. He had just witnessed five grown men and four blood hounds killed by shadows. The corpses stared up into the night sky with unseeing eyes. Shadows that now seemed to be circling him but refused to get closer than a few paces. During the whole incident he had felt a pressure in his head. Now with the creatures circling him the pressure was growing and becoming a tingling sensation. After a minute or an eternity, Cero was not sure which, had passed he tested his bonds and found that the rope tying him to the tree was only a few threads thick where it was frayed. Bracing Cero strained for a moment until the rope gave way and he tumbled into the dust.

  Slowly getting to his feet Cero kept an eye on the creatures. The tingling was still in the back of his head but it was going away slowly. The fire was burning down a little and Cero’s hands were tied behind his back still. The dead men sickened Cero. Turning away he tentatively took a step away from the fire and its grisly scene. The shadows melted into the dark appearing only every now and then as Cero staggered through the night.

  The rest of the night seemed a myriad of dreams involving shadows and moonlight before Cero found himself alone. The sun was rising on the horizon and a clearing opened up in front of him. The boy staggered forward and gazed at the buildings in the middle of the wilderness. The idea that he was in a town presented itself to his weary mind just before he collapsed.

  It was dark when Draceros woke again. At least it was until the door opened emitting a blinding stream of light. A youth was standing in the door looking at Cero with a surprised expression. The door was closed a moment later and a window was opened enough to shed a little light in the room.

  “Where am I?” Cero remembered only fragments of the last day and night.

  “At our village. Skelceri.” For some reason Cero knew what the name meant. A conjunction of his old name which he realized meant cold or rather every kind of cold and another word meaning water mists. Essentially the village of cold mist. How he knew this was a question that he didn’t know the answer to.

  “Where is Cold Mists, I mean Skelceri?” Cero gingerly got up expecting something to hurt but was relieved when everything appeared in normal working condition.

  “You know the old tongue.” Delight lit up the girl’s face. “Oh, don’t you know? We are in the Draeld Swamps. We found you four mornings ago in the village after the shadow walkers brought you in.

  “Four mornings ago?” Cero looked up with shock written on his face.

  “Yes. You slept like the dead for days and I didn’t think you would ever wake up.” Just then the door opened and an older man came in.

  “Nyet, I told you not to bother him.”

  “He was already awake when I came in.” Nyet protested her innocence.

  “Even if he was awake, your mother wants you to help her with the laundry.”

  “Yes father.” Nyet glanced at Cero like she wanted to ask some more questions but obediently left anyways.

  “My apologies if she was an annoyance. It is only that we never get visitors in our portion of the world.”

  “No. she was right. I was awake and would have gone looking for someone if she hadn’t arrived.” Cero smiled at the man he addressed. “She did say that I have been asleep since four mornings ago?”

  “Indeed. You slept like one dead. You have no pains?”

  “Not that I can think of. Why is it so dark in here?" Cero had noticed that care had been taken to make sure none of the light emitted into the room had fallen directly on him.

  “It was most curious. Anytime sunlight fell on you, your mind would awake and wander. So in here you were placed. It is good to see you awake. Do you remember what happened?”

  “I was running from some people then they caught me. Then it was dark and there was a fire. Then... The next thing I remember is walking into the village.”

  “We shadow walkers were just starting to waken when you arrived. The sun fell on you before we got you inside and then the entire village awoke. I'm curious, what kind of walker are you to have such an effect?”

  “Shadow walker? Those things where you?” Cero got up and stepped into the light to see out the window. He noticed that the man flinched but relaxed a moment later.

  “Yes, some of the people in this village are shadow walkers. We thought that is what you were when we sensed you.”

  “I'm sorry for any trouble I caused. My name is Draceros by the way.”

  “I am Peren. It wasn’t much trouble. We sensed you from miles away like a beacon. Then there were the others. We sensed your fear and helped you escape but something about you made it painful to get close to you. Then when the sunlight struck you, something else awoke within you. I have never sensed such power.” Peren explained his side of events to Cero’s astonishment. He had heard of people with gifts all his life and now he seemed to have found himself in a village where several gifted people resided and did nothing to hide their gifts.

  “Why haven’t you been discovered?” Cero let curiosity get the best of him. Peren smiled wanly.

  “Because of what happened to the people who had caught you. If they ever overcame their fear of the swamp revenants then our village would probably be wiped from the map.”

  “It’s not on any map I ever saw.” Draceros had never realized that could be a village in the heart of the swamps. Come to think of it, he might actually be safe here with these strange people. At least as safe as any place.

  “That is good to know. My people sometimes go out into the midlands to see what is going on in the empire. The last one to visit the Braebach returned and said that it wasn’t safe to be Gifted out there. Come to think of it, you speak the dialect of the Garoche. While you were sleeping you never said anything that wasn't in the old tongue.”

  “I've never spoken anything other than this my entire life. I just knew what Skelceri meant. Skel means cold and Ceri means water mist or fog. I don’t know how I know.”

  “Strange. The old tongue isn't spoken by any but the elves any more but you spoke it fluently several times. It used to be the language of the ancients.” Just then Cero’s stomach gave a loud grumble and Peren laughed. “We can talk more later. You should be hungry after the last four days. My wife is like to scold me for not having thought of feeding you sooner. Sun isn’t affecting you any longer so feel free to wander the village after you get some food.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The morning had dawned bright and clear. Free from the usual veil of clouds that usually hung over the valley. Inadar and Torroth had been planning on a practice session outside of the village today. Inadar was on her way to this appointment but was taking her time. The spring flowers were only just coming into bloom. The last snows in the valley had melted in their entirety leaving a clean slate for spring. Only a few weeks had passed since Encer had been lent the book by the dragons. Inadar had asked what the book had contained but Encer had not given any definitive answers.

  Spying a small violet bunch of blooms Inadar stopped and dug the bulbs from the soil. They would wilt in all likelihood before she returned to the house but they would recover by next spring and brighten a flowerbed. Most the villagers merely shook their heads at what they considered useless plants being intentionally planted and cared for. Inadar as usual didn’t care what they thought and continued her peculiar ways. Color especially that of nature appealed to her senses. Placing the bulbs carefully in her satchel she left the meadow and advanced towards the agreed upon meeting place.

  The training ground was another small meadow surrounded by the tall cedars that populated this side of the valley. Their height prevented the clearing from acquiring enough light to flourish so only a soft moss and short grass carpeted the area. Finding that despite her slow journey Torroth still hadn’t arrived, Inadar sat down and began sorting her collection of plants. Time slipped by until Inadar heard a twig snap behind her.

  She hadn’t let her guard down because she expected
that Torroth might attempt a surprise attack. Not wanting to give away that she was aware of his presence she continued sorting her plants while slipping the wooden practice blades out of her sleeves into her hands. When she heard the muffled sound of dry grass stems from last fall being crushed behind her she recalled the approximate location of the dry tufts she had seen earlier. Satisfied that she knew Torroth’s location she waited for the right moment.

  Suddenly she heard the telltale louder footfall of someone lunging. Rolling sideways she gave the ambusher a shove in the rib cage with her foot as he passed. Inadar regained her feet at the same time her assailant gained his. Inadar looked in surprise on the black clad figure. A tight black outfit betrayed a lean body and a black scarf obscured the face. Fitting with the other garments was a black cloak that was folded back over the man’s shoulders. What was most surprising was that the weapons in hand were no wooden practice blades but blackened metal that shined on the newly honed edge.

  “Torroth, I know it is you. Take that ridiculous outfit off.” Inadar held her wooden daggers at the ready just in case Torroth wasn’t through with his game. Instead of complying as asked the black clad figure shifted his grip on his daggers to that of a hand to hand style and lunged forward. Inadar dodged and sliced in with her blades. Unlike the usual rules of the game the opponent seemed to ignore her blunted weapon and went for her abdomen with his blades. Narrowly avoiding being skewered Inadar backed up a couple paces.

  A quick glance at her side showed that the stinging sensation she felt was caused by the not entirely avoided thrust. Torroth wouldn’t have ignored the contact her wooden blade had made to his arm. Neither would he have injured her in any way beyond the expected bruise or two. Dropping her wooden daggers and retrieving the real set she carried on her belt Inadar kept a space between her and the mysterious opponent. No longer did she believe that she was facing Torroth. Whoever this was meant her harm. The black clad attacker warily kept a couple steps back and waited for an opening.

  A hundred possibilities flew through Inadar’s mind. In the span of a second she had conceived and discarded a dozen scenarios. No villager would undertake to harm her because of the fear they had for the dragons that obviously protected her. Not after the day of the massacre would they have dared. This was a stranger to the valley. In Inadar’s experience strangers meant no good thing. This individual was not a simple bandit fleeing justice either. They would have sought to hide rather than expose themselves. The cut on Inadar’s side told her that this man wasn’t after her body either. Mytera was the village midwife after the old one had died two winters ago and the tales that were told when no one suspected that she heard were of the darker nature of people so she was not unfamiliar with other things the man might have wanted. This man was trying to kill her. This realization should have frightened a normal girl but as we have already learned Inadar was not like ordinary girls. The realization focused her mind and sharpened her reflexes. Knowing your enemy's intentions is half the battle.

  Inadar had trained with Torroth long enough to know that she was talented but also to know that raw talent and speed could not make up for skill. It was only by luck that the man before her had not landed a more telling strike. Now Inadar was more prepared for a fight. Fleeing was not an option because there was no defending your back in flight and there was no knowing if she could outrun this individual. His smooth cat like steps would indicate that the man was probably more familiar with combat that her so there was probably little chance of outfighting him through skill so treachery was required.

  Torroth had instilled a sense in Inadar that a real fight for one’s life had no rules. Now the only thing between her and death was a slim hope that she could outwit her adversary. The man came in for another attack before any devious plot sprung to mind so Inadar responded instinctually. The blades she held were real now so the man was forced to pay them some attention. One of his blades was held high to block her blades while the other was held low in order to take advantage of an undefended side. Inadar recognized the move having trained with it extensively. Her blades were then more useful blocking the lower weapon and attacking the barely defended torso with the other.

  At the last second Inadar sliced at the upper hand and twisted away from the other blade side stepping the man. It was not as clean as she would have liked but it did maintain a slight advantage in her favor. The man looked at her and saw a girl waving knives in the air and assumed that she knew no more about combat than any other girl. This would be his undoing and if she had skillfully taken advantage of the opening left for her then this illusion would have been dispelled. No this was a card that was most valuable played for an important move. He now was taking her more seriously than before but not near her true level. Any lightly trained and fast individual could have pulled off her previous escape.

  Inadar took advantage of the lull before the next attack by letting her spare set of wooden daggers slip down her sleeve and catch at her wrist. This was something she had hoped to surprise Torroth with today but now they were useless as weapons. They did however provide a certain element of armor to the backs of her forearms. This time when the black clad attacker slid in there was purpose glittering in what Inadar could see of his eyes. She knew that it was now or never if she was to survive. Lunging forward she saw surprise before his blades came up to meet her. One was deflected by the blade in her right hand and the other scraped against the wooden dagger hidden in her sleeve. The mistake cost the man a deep cut across his shoulder. Taking advantage of the slight off balance she smashed her shoulder into the man’s and yanked on the black cloak as he tried to catch his balance.

  The man caught between imbalance and off balance fell on his back. Not wishing to waste an opportunity Inadar dashed in and managed a slash across the back of a hand before being kicked in the stomach. Gasping for air Inadar jumped back to her feet. Her opponent only had one blade in hand now and blood was streaming from the other hand that hung limply having had the tendon’s severed by Inadar’s cut. The eyes narrowed in the face hidden by the black scarf and the man flipped the blade in the air and caught the tip. Inadar stiffened as he swung it back behind his head in preparation for throwing it. She had little experience with deflecting thrown weapons.

  Instead of throwing the knife at Inadar it dropped from his fingers. Surprise filled the man’s face for a moment before another impact from the back knocked him forward. Landing on his knees he paused a moment before falling flat on his face revealing two fletched shafts protruding from his back. Inadar looked up from the arrows and saw Torroth approaching with another arrow notched and aimed at the man.

  “You killed him!” Shock from the sudden events caught up with Inadar and she suddenly felt weak. Hardly able to hold on to her daggers she dropped them and clenched her fists in an attempt to control the sudden shaking.

  “I had no other choice. He was going to kill you if I hadn’t” Torroth returned the arrow to his quiver and kicked the prone body with his boot. No indications of life followed so he rolled the body over. Removing the mask they looked on a shaved head that was covered in scars. Even in death the face threatened violence.

  “Are you alright?” Inadar stopped staring at the dead face as Torroth shook her shoulders. Pulling herself together emotionally she tried not to look at the face.

  “I'm fine accept for a scratch. It’s nothing.” After verifying for himself the extent of the injury Torroth returned to the corpse. He pocketed the various weapons he found and examined the cloth that the man was clothed in. His examination ended with the removal of a small medallion around the man’s neck. The medallion had an oak tree under a signet ring. It bore a striking resemblance to King Illiad's but the crown was replaced by the signet ring. It was similar to the emblem that Verkal’s men had worn embroidered on their cloaks. Torroth recognized it immediately.

  “Come on. We need to show Encer this.” Torroth promptly began walking back towards the village.

  “What
about the body?” Inadar had controlled her emotions by now and was trying to understand Torroth’s reaction to the medallion.

  “Leave it. This is more important.” At this response Inadar picked up her blades and hurried after Torroth.

  Torroth dispensed with knocking and burst through the doors into Encer’s house. Inadar followed only a few steps behind but took the time to close the door. She turned around in time to see Torroth drop the medallion in front of Encer with the weapons he had removed from the corpse. The older man started on seeing the items and looked back up to Torroth who nodded. Without another word Encer retrieved his sword and rejoined them a moment later.

  “Stay inside and lock the doors after we leave. Don’t unlock the doors again until we return and only then if we ask you for a hat. Don’t open the door otherwise.” With that cryptic warning both the men left the house. Inadar and Mytera stared after them for a moment before complying with their orders and locking the door. It was more than an hour later before they returned and gave the pass code requesting hats.

  “What is going on?” Inadar demanded an explanation. Mytera was standing right beside her with arms crossed with the same demand written on her face. Inadar had told her what had happened in the woods and had her cut tended to. But now they faced the returning men.

  “It was gone when we got back there.” Torroth sank into a seat after removing his boots. Encer followed suit.

  “What was gone?” Mytera questioned.

  “The body. They always work in pairs and the second one had found the body before we got back.” Torroth rubbed his forehead and Inadar saw a fresh cut and dried blood on the hand.