Shawndirea, p.38
Shawndirea, page 38
Crukas shook his head and placed his finger to his lips. He reached into his pocket and removed his lock-picking tools. He grinned and his eyebrows rose.
Perhaps redemption? Riese wondered.
“I had thought you had abandoned us,” Riese said, “or you had made a run for it?”
Crukas shook his head.
“Oh, that’s right. You cannot speak.”
With a shrug and sad face, Crukas studied the cuffs, but due to Riese being almost twice the height of Crukas, the thief had no way to reach the locks over Riese’s head.
Riese’s eyes widened and he shouted, “Crukas, look out!”
Crukas turned to see a crazed Vyking rushing him with a bloody dagger.
“Nordell, no!” Riese said.
Crukas tried to move, but Nordell raised the dagger overhead and growled, swiftly bringing down the blade. Crukas’ mouth opened to scream, but no sound came.
***
Odlon fired an arrow from the crossbow seconds before Nordell would have killed Crukas. The arrow tip went through Nordell’s back and lodged in his heart. He arched backwards for a moment and then fell forward on the road.
Crukas sat on the ground beneath Riese, trembling. His pale face revealed his evident fear.
Odlon, Roble, and Shawndirea hurried to the shackled Riese and Lehrling. Roble patted Lehrling’s face, but the old man still didn’t awaken. He placed his head to Lehrling’s chest. The man’s breathing was hampered. Hoisted into this position wasn’t favorable and perhaps was making his possible pneumonia even worse.
“We have to get him down,” Roble said.
“Help Crukas free me first. I can get Lehrling down,” Riese said.
Odlon and Roble cupped their hands together to give Crukas foot supports to hold him high enough to pick the locks. In seconds, the thief used his picks, and to Roble’s surprise, Riese lowered his hands and rubbed his wrists.
Riese walked behind Lehrling. After Crukas unlocked those cuffs, Lehrling dropped back into Riese’s arms to prevent the heavy man from collapsing and injuring himself by falling to the ground.
While Riese supported Lehrling’s weight, Zauber walked over to join them.
“Good to find you all together,” he said.
“Where have you been?” Roble asked. “You brought us all in here and abandoned us. Why did you deceive us?”
Zauber raised his hand and said, “Careful. Our enemies still abound. We must remain discreet.”
Roble ignored his answer and again said, “You deserted us once we got into the center of town. Why?”
Riese carried Lehrling to the nearest wagon and laid him gently in the bed.
Zauber looked at Roble and then he gazed around to each of the others. He said, “There has to be unity in your party. Do you understand?”
Roble crossed his arms but didn’t reply. Odlon seemed as upset as Roble, especially at the underestimated numbers of the Vykings and the surprise of the dark elves. Shawndirea watched with slight amusement, indicating she knew Zauber’s ways.
Zauber focused his attention on Crukas. He said, “Crukas, you have a voice. Your voice needs to be heard and respected by Riese.”
Riese rested his hands on his hips and nodded. “It is now. He put his life in jeopardy to free me.”
Zauber smiled, looked at Crukas, and waved his hand. The thief’s eyes widened. He cleared his throat and discovered his voice had returned.
“Thanks,” Crukas said.
“Riese,” Zauber said, “your inner rage will burn forever after your loss of Odrissus, but know that is not Crukas’ fault. It’s those your bloodline is drawn from. Crukas has secrets of his own that quite possibly in time he’ll reveal to you. But he is not your enemy.”
“I know,” Riese replied.
“He is, however,” Zauber said, “a very resourceful key to your group’s success.”
“So you won’t hand me over to Ironwood’s guards?” Crukas asked Riese.
“No.”
A great ease settled over Crukas’ face. He gave a slight bow toward Riese and said, “Thank you.”
Odlon said, “But to get Shawndirea to Elvendale we must pass through Ironwood. There’s no other way.”
“First,” Riese said, “We have to rid Woodcrest of the tyrants imprisoning them.”
“What about the dark elves?” Shawndirea asked.
Odlon’s nervous eyes glanced from person to person, which made Roble wonder what power the dark elves held over him. Why did he fear them as much as he did?
Haigla walked past them with a bottle of orange potion. “Leave the dark elves to me,” she said, heading to the alabaster faery statue.
Zauber stared at Shawndirea questioningly. Shawndirea shrugged and shook her head.
Riese watched the old woman with curiosity.
Roble looked at Riese and asked, “What are your plans?”
“You’re placing me in charge?”
Roble shrugged. “You’re the largest in our party. You’ve fought with them before, correct?”
“Yes, long ago.”
“Then you know their tactics and how best to approach them. Besides, as huge as you are I’d never consider giving you orders. With our current situation, I trust your decisions.”
“We kill them all,” Riese said, “except for the old man, Hordus. I want him kept alive. But the dark elves are the biggest problem right now. Archers at a high position have the advantage over us. I want to know how the old lady plans to take care of the dark elves before we approach the gates. And remember, my son Marc is still in my wagon. I want him protected at all costs.”
“You got it,” Roble replied.
Odlon nodded.
Riese followed Haigla to the statue. When he got there, the rest of the group stood behind him. The old woman knelt before the statue with her eyes closed. She poured the concoction on the feet of the faery statue while chanting.
Glittering little lights like a swarm of lightning bugs flickered in the oak branches. From the trees near the gates, anguished screams wailed only to stop suddenly seconds later.
“The dark elves are no more,” Haigla said with a near toothless smile. “Take out the Vykings and our town is free once more.”
***
The dark elves stood watch in the branches of trees along the gateways. Four per gate and each favored a tree of their own. One by one a slight giggle echoed from the tree branches where the dark elves positioned themselves. While searching for what produced the luring laughter, the dark elves climbed the branches and followed. Seeing nothing at first, and then, without warning, dryads that had camouflaged themselves within the trees’ patterns, reached out from their hiding places and yanked the dark elves into the bark, which solidified around them, paralyzing and quickly killing them.
The high-pitched screams of the dark elves as the dryads overtook them caused the Vykings to look to the trees, witnessing several of the dark elves’ demise.
“What strange magic is this?” a Vyking guard asked, drawing his blade.
“Spirits of those we slaughtered here,” another suggested. “They’ve come for vengeance, Dougan.”
They eyed one another and stood back to back, to keep watch around them while they slowly moved away from the gate.
“Dreygurs?” Dougan whispered.
“Possibly.”
“Or the trees are enchanted, Wylis,” Dougan said.
Wylis gripped his sword tighter. His eyes widened. He turned toward Dougan and said, “The Dragon Skull Order soldiers we killed?”
Dougan shared his worry. He nodded. “And another has entered town. Their spirits have come to protect him.”
Their eyes searched near the light poles and into the faint lighted areas beneath the trees. They sought the eyeless ghosts of the town council members they had killed earlier in the day. Nothing slinked within the shadows, but they couldn’t shake the possibility that vengeful spirits stalked them.
“Make our way to the center of the town,” Dougan whispered, “where there are fewer trees.”
Before the two headed for the center of Woodcrest, two arrows from Odlon’s crossbow dropped the men quickly.
Chapter Fifty-one
Drucis rode Ol’ Grey along the dark forest path outside Woodcrest. His eyes shifted every time he heard a twig snap, a strange bird cry, or rustling overhead. Normally such things didn’t disturb him, but after riding away from the undead of Glacier Ridge and through a band of drifting ghosts, he was certain the entire region around him was changing. What else had the Plague-bringer left behind?
The luminous bluish broken and decapitated statues didn’t bother him. But his eyes searched around them, for darker moving objects. His hand rested on the handle of his battle-axe, but quickly pulled the ax when the strange screams echoed through the trees. He recognized the cries.
Dark elves.
Grey’s ears backed and the horse whinnied slightly as Drucis tugged back the reins. Drucis’ eyes again searched through the ruins and statues because he knew the history of the area and how the dark elves had slaughtered all the monks and priests in the towering temples that no longer existed.
Had they returned?
Several more anguished screams rose and silenced in sudden death.
“No,” Drucis whispered, looking around the forest. “They’re not here. Come now, Grey, let’s get on to Woodcrest. Seems they may be needing me ax to aid them.”
***
The dying shrieks of the dark elves wreaked havoc upon the Vykings’ superstitious nature and frightened them from the trees that stood near the gates. With haunted expressions on their faces, they headed toward the center of Woodcrest where Odlon waited with his readied crossbow. He dropped most before they had turned to even notice he was there.
Hordus shook his head and dropped his weapons and shield.
Riese brought the wristband shackles and locked them around the old man’s wrists.
“Why spare me?” Hordus asked. “I’m old and of little use in battles anymore. Is it because I spared your life?”
Riese gave a slight nod and then shrugged. “That’s part of it, but it is also because I have a mission for you.”
Hordus gave a slight chuckle. “A mission? For me?”
Riese nodded. “Yes. Once we reach the other side of Ironwood, I’m releasing you. I want you to return to the Isles of Welkstone. Tell Obed I’m still alive and I seek to remove his head for joining with the likes of Lord Waxxon.”
“You’re a fool. Why not release me, and I’ll tell him that you’re dead? Live the rest of your years in peace. He doesn’t need to know you’re alive.”
“I will never know peace again, Hordus. What was taken from me can never be replaced. There is no redemption for my pain. Nothing can fix what is broken within my heart and mind.”
A sad expression crossed Hordus’ face. When he looked at Riese, tears brimmed his eyes. “I understand. I do. I lost my wife after many years together but not as you did. She died from sickness. Had what happened to your dear wife happened to mine; I indeed would share your fury. In some ways, I do.”
Riese clasped his huge hand on Hordus’ shoulder. “In better times, we’d have a lot of stories to share. As long as you ride with us, I promise no harm will come to you.”
Hordus smiled. “I never saw you fight on the battlefield, but the stories are often told around the nightly campfires of your courage and how many fell to your blades before you lost your way, as they say. I see that you did not, but that you became a better man who had found love, which is a far rarer thing than most consider in this life. And as far as telling stories, it’s still quite a journey we must take. Plenty of time to tell tales.”
While Riese engaged Hordus in conversation, Odlon circled around Woodcrest and dropped any other remaining Vykings.
The townspeople left their homes and hiding places to help drag the dead bodies to the edge of the intersecting roads at the center of town. Like scavengers, the men, women, and children pilfered whatever caught their eyes. Most though only took gold, silver, or copper coins they found in small pouches and pockets.
When the townspeople lined the bodies up, Riese walked alongside Hordus, and they counted the number of the dead.
“Twenty-two,” Riese said. “Would that be all of your band?”
“Yes,” Hordus replied.
“Good,” Riese said. Then looking to Odlon and Roble, he said, “Woodcrest is free!”
Haigla did a little dance while singing in a strange language. Her brown stained mouth grinned with glee as she jigged.
Still trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, Marc staggered across the street and stood near his father.
“It’s over,” Roble said to Shawndirea. “We can head to Ironwood and then to Elvendale.”
Shawndirea kissed Roble’s cheek.
“Shawndirea?” a female voice asked. The voice was sweet, soft, and almost seductive. A voice any man would love to hear call his name.
Shawndirea turned and was startled by what she saw. Hovering behind her was another faery with strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “Aerlene?” Shawndirea asked with wide eyes.
“Yes! Child, it is you?” Aerlene said.
“Yes.”
She took Shawndirea’s hands and whisked her away. Shawndirea saw fright widen Roble’s eyes, so she blew him a kiss, hoping the action let him know that she was safe and not being snatched away from him again.
Aerlene landed on a high branch near the top of a massive oak. She held Shawndirea’s hands tightly. The setting moon on the horizon was spectacular. Stars glittered the darkening sky. She suddenly realized exactly how much she missed her wings and her ability to fly. From the towering height of the treetop she could see lights from small bonfires, dotting the landscape and detailing where all neighboring farmsteads were. The air was cool, fragrant, and almost magical.
Aerlene gasped and her eyes widened. “Your precious wings. My dear, what has happened to you?”
Shawndirea shook her head. “It’s a terribly long story. One that would most certainly bore you.”
“Don’t be silly, child. There’s so much we should catch up on.”
Shawndirea smiled and hugged her aunt. “Another time, maybe, about my wings. But seeing you is such a grand relief. I thought you were dead.”
Aerlene shook her head and giggled. She said, “No. I’m very much alive. So that’s the story circulating Elvendale? If so, your mother has been very busy spreading misinformation again.”
“The rumor is one my mother has insisted is the truth,” she replied. “She had me and pretty much everyone else convinced.”
Shaking her head, Aerlene said, “Tsk tsk. That mother of yours is truly too bullheaded for her own good. I’m surprised we came from the same parents. If you offer even the slightest difference of opinion, she goes to no end with her bitterness and hateful harangues, trying to change what you believe, and if she cannot, she’ll carry the grudge until the end of hell. So I told her I’d had enough of her nonsense, and I left Elvendale for good.”
“So that’s what happened? You didn’t die at the hands of a goblin?”
“Only in her maddest dream, my dear. Certainly, she’s hoped that.”
Shawndirea hugged Aerlene again. She smiled and said, “I’m so thankful that you are living and well.”
“Just before I darted off with you, did I see you kiss that human on the cheek?” Aerlene asked.
“Yes, that’s Roble.”
“Why are you with him?”
“I’ve fallen in love with him,” Shawndirea said with a bright smile. Her eyes lit up and she squeezed her aunt’s hand. “And he loves me.”
“Does Istrell know?”
“Not yet. He’s taking me to Elvendale so I can get my wings healed.”
“So she doesn’t know that you’re bringing him with you?”
“No.”
Aerlene beamed. “You have to let me be there when you tell her.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Every second of it.”
“The truth is that I don’t really look forward to going home, but you taking me up here makes me want my power of flight back more than ever. I have to go back.”
Aerlene nodded. “I’d die without my ability to fly. There’s so much liberation when you soar with the wind and fly with the songbirds.”
“It is frightening not having my wings. If not for Roble’s help, I’d have died by now,” she said, trying to protect his reputation instead of revealing he was the reason they were shredded.
“You know bringing Roble to the High Court will no doubt send your mother into a horrible tirade,” Aerlene said.
“I expect it will.”
“She’ll threaten your right to the throne.”
Shawndirea smiled. “It’s fine if she does because I don’t want the responsibility. I hope she denies my right to the throne.”
“And does she know this?”
“I’ve told her often.”
Shawndirea watched the fleeting moonlight. Soon darkness would sweep over the night for a couple hours before the sunrise, giving the stars their full magnificence.
“Which kingdom does your Roble call home?” Aerlene asked.
Shawndirea smiled. “The Overlands.”
Aerlene feigned a gasp and burst into a fit of laughter. “I’ve always known there was a rebellious streak in you, my dear. Regardless of what your mother has wanted you to do, you always seek a different path.”
Shawndirea gave a sneaky smile.
“Oh I’d so love to see her expression when you tell her this! From the Overlands? Wow, you’re going for the kill, eh?”
“No. I’m certain she’ll take it that way, but honestly, what I feel toward Roble is genuine. I would never choose a human within our realm, or a faery either, for that matter.”
“I’m afraid there are few noble choices here, so I cannot blame you for being resourceful and exploring better options.”
Shawndirea curtsied.
Aerlene shook her head at her niece’s playful gesture. “In spite of your choice, Istrell will still do everything she can to persuade you to assume the throne.”
