Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (47 page)

A hilt, in the form of a dragon set with wings half  drawn, appeared where moments before there was nothing, and there was a vague familiarity about it that stirred his memories, but his focus remained in setting the newly formed blade to it. The slender, double  edged blade slid into the opened maw of the dragon  hilt with an audible ‘click’ as the maw snapped shut around the blade, which began to glow with a pale blue nimbus as if rejoicing at the bonding with the hilt.

But a rumbling laughter, like the incessant pounding of thunderous surf, rattled the chamber and froze his very blood with its dreadfully mocking warning. The greater darkness beyond the chamber was slowly seeping in through the rents and holes from the unending assault, and it seemed more substantial than a mere mist, clinging to Kyle as he spun constantly in search of some danger to reveal itself.

Yet the laughter continued, mocking his work, which to all appearances seemed fruitless, now. How could a mere blade help him overcome whatever it was that waited without? With a primeval howl of fury and rage he hurled the sword spear  like through one of the larger tears, where it struck the impenetrable darkness outside. A blinding flash erupted from the contact, shaking the chamber and tearing what fragments of wall there remained, and as the pounding froze to bring an unnatural silence, he waited as the darkness loomed over him, threatening to consume him…

Shaking his reeling head and rising from his bed, he dressed in the dim light of the moons through the narrow windows, and silently let himself outside, deciding at the last moment to bring his axe with a thought for Ishaar’s earlier advice. The air was chilly, as was normal here on the harsh plains during the night hours, but the illumination from the two moons gave him more than enough light to see by, and even gave the taciturn city a majestic ambience.

With no destination in mind, Kyle wandered, but as habit has a way of taking control, he rounded a corner to find the clearing in which lay the Ancestral Vault. Not wanting to alert the guardsmen, whose shapes he could see around the Vault, and bring any attention to himself, he turned to retrace his steps and seek another path. He had taken only two steps, however, barely disappearing around the corner, when a nagging thought struck him. Something about the clearing had not been right!

Returning to peer around the corner, he saw that where normally several torches lit the area, only one flickered low at the side of the squat structure. That may not have been out of the ordinary considering the ample illumination the twin moons cast, but he assumed one of the front torches would be lit, not one at the side. Also, the several guards he could see seemed to be reclining against the walls, silent and unmoving, which also was not out of the ordinary, but the way in which they looked made Kyle curious.

He took several creeping paces around the corner to get a better look, keeping to the building to stay protected by the shadow created by the overhang of the roof. It was then he noticed a faint glimmer of flickering light from within the vault, and he knew the doors were slightly ajar. Fear gripped him with a cold hand as he fumbled for his axe. Then, as if his vision became suddenly clear, he saw that a sword lay at one of the guard’s feet, while another stood with his head lolled to the side, as if asleep. At a distance, they looked to be standing at their post, but Kyle knew that was not the case.

On the verge of shouting a warning that would at least wake those who resided nearby, he froze, as a small figure disentangled itself from a shadow near the door. It began walking forward, towards him, and after a wave of foreboding and fear swept over him, he gave a relieved sigh as he recognized one of the Dwarves from the rescue party, though his name was unknown to Kyle. He took several steps forward, and then began to jog as the dwarf stumbled, his face haggard and his clothing torn and cut.

Had he looked closer, Kyle may have noticed none of the cuts in his clothing showed wounds, and the blood looked to be sprayed on, not coming from any wounds of his own. He was no more than three paces from the dwarf, when a warning shout erupted from the vault, as the doors were thrown wide.

“
Kyle, NO!”

Thorgast?

The huge barbarian hobbled into the light, his left side bloodied as he held a bloodied axe in his right hand. His hair and face were caked in blood and dirt, and he looked as if mere strength of will kept him standing.

If not for the warning, Kyle would have reached the dwarf, but his faltered steps gave him a little room to act as the dwarf exploded into movement. Little legs launched him at Kyle as a raven  dark knife appeared in his hand, arcing straight at Kyle’s throat. Through some luck and a last minute lunge backwards, the cut missed, but off  balance as he as, Kyle could barely raise his axe as the dwarf came bustling forward, dark eyes unblinking as his face twisted into a snarl of hatred.

The dark blade scored along the haft of his axe as he flicked a parry at a lightning thrust, but a reversed slash caught him on the left forearm, just behind the wrist. An intense pain shot up his arm and into his body as he let out a piercing scream and fell backwards, defiantly clasping his axe in his right hand and groaning away the pain of the wound, but the dwarf knew he was vulnerable and closed in quickly.

A huge form caught the dwarf before he could strike, tackling him with a force that carried both over Kyle where they rolled several times and came apart. The dwarf was on his feet in a flash, and began to close on his tackler, the hunched over form of Thorgast. The giant barbarian clutched at his side as he attempted to rise, and Kyle could see that his clothes were already soaked through and blood was dripping at his feet.

Luckily, the dwarf had lost hold of his weapon, but it did not seem to concern him as he leapt at the unarmed barbarian, and for a moment, Kyle felt hope, for even unarmed and wounded, Thorgast should have been able to at least fend off the dwarf until help arrived. He could hear distant shouting, but could not distinguish its source as his eyes were riveted on the battle before him, and even as he watched, a distant alarm bell began to ring.

Like wrestlers, the two struggled, Thorgast using his long arms to envelope the dwarf in a hug, but in horror, Kyle watched as the dwarf broke the hold with almost casual effort and then grabbed the great barbarian and began to lift him. It was then that Kyle knew this dwarf was more than just a dwarf turned insane or traitorous, even if the tainted weapon had not given it away.

With a heave, Thorgast went flying for several feet and landed with a thud and a muffled groan. He struggled defiantly to rise; yet the dwarf would have been on him had he not turned to retrieve the dagger.

Knowing Thorgast was in trouble if he had to face the armed dwarf, Kyle tried to rise, but it was if ice encased his very limbs, and shock waves jolted his senses at every fraction of movement. He was barely able to make it to his knees without passing out from the pain, and by then, the dwarf already had his knife and was stalking Thorgast.

With a cry that was half pain, half defiance, he launched his axe in Thorgast’s direction, hoping the effort would be enough to take it near the barbarian, but he did not see the result as his eyes blurred and he fell forward. He struggled to retain his grasp on consciousness, dimly aware of shouting and pounding feet and a sudden concussive explosion that was enough to tip the balance on Kyle’s struggle and send him reeling into unconsciousness. Hands grabbed at him as a distant voice shouted, “Quick, get him up!” It sounded like Alric’s voice, and for the first time in days, Kyle smiled, even as he felt the dark face of death closing in on him.

So it was a surprise when his eyes opened to an intense brightness, and found himself in a stiflingly hot room. Braziers burned with incense, throwing off an herbal aroma that was bitter to the nose but not unpleasant, while a fire even burned low on a hearth set in one wall. There was scarce furnishing, with a stool and a low table beside the bed in which he sweltered.

With an effort, he pushed back the heavy blankets and studied himself. His left arm was heavily bandaged from wrist to elbow, and he could barely move his fingers, the effort shooting a burning pain up his arm.

A shuffling from beyond the door heralded an arrival, and the face that appeared as the door swung silently open almost made Kyle laugh with joy. Seeming almost abashed, Alric entered the room as quietly as possible, carrying with him a tray laden with food and a pitcher. He closed the door quickly with a whispered complaint about ‘keeping out the cold’. When he set the tray on the bed beside Kyle, he took the blankets and settled them back over his wounded patient.

“
No good recovering if you only let yourself fall ill again,” he chastised good  naturedly, setting himself on the single stool. “You took quite a wound there, and this heat will help your body recover.”

“
What happened, Alric? Why did your kinsman kill the guards and then try to kill me and Thorgast?” The memory of what had happened remained clear in his mind, unlike his many dreams of the past few days.

“
I will try to explain, but you must eat. You are not past the danger period yet.”

So, while Kyle ate slowly, impaired by the necessity to use one hand, Alric related the happenings of the rescue of Thorgast and their desperate flight back through the undercity. Getting to Thorgast had proved easier than Alric had expected, but it had been an ambush which they barely got out of. As it was, three of the Dwarves were lost in that first battle, and another, Yalkor, had remained behind to provide time for the others to escape. As it was, Yalkor was not slain, but possessed by a Demon who used his memories to return to Chul’Haka. Here, he had slain the guards at the vault, and would probably have left the city open for attack via the vault, had Kyle not arrived when he did.

“
I’m glad you are alive and Thorgast is safe.”

“
Yes,” Alric mused, taking the now empty tray from Kyle and placing it on the nearby table. “Fortunately he was not touched by the Demon’s dagger, and his other wounds were not as bad as they looked.”

“
Fortunately?” queried Kyle with sudden fear at Alric’s words. “What do you mean?”

“
The blades of the Soulless are tainted with the very Unlife that births the demons. Their touch can mean death in some cases, and their wounds are normally fatal, no matter the degree of the wound. Your wound, though shallow, almost killed you.”

“
And…?” prompted Kyle, feeling Alric had failed to tell him more. He gave a brief shudder at the proximity he had come to death, though he had thought he was dying when consciousness left him after the struggle with the demon  possessed Dwarf.

“
And it still may kill you!” warned Alric, turning so he could look Kyle in the eye as he spoke, leaving no doubt as to his sincerity, though Kyle hoped it was partly through concern. “The wound you received cannot be healed except through the most powerful of magic, which is unavailable here, and probably anywhere else save the Astral City. It will only get worse with time, and the taint it carries will spread slowly.”

“
So I am doomed unless I can get to the Astral City?” How mocking fate was. Better he had died from the initial wound. He could not possibly reach the fabled magical city in his condition.

“
We will get you to the Astral City!” assured Alric with a smile and a warm hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Whether you realize it or not, I am indebted to you, and I shall not forget that.”

“
Nor I!”

This new voice came from the doorway, and when the two looked up, a grinning Thorgast entered the room, ducking slightly under the low doorway before closing the door quickly at Alric’s frowned indication.

“
Good to see you better, kid! I owe you one, you know.”

“
I only did what I had to do,” stated Kyle with a deep blush of embarrassment. “If I hadn’t, I would most likely be dead now, too, so it was as much to save my own skin.”

“
Modest, too,” quipped Thorgast to Alric, who chuckled deeply. “I only wish I could come with you.”

Kyle had seen enough in the past few days to know the big warrior was needed here in his city. “That’s funny, I remember saying the same thing some days ago.”

“
You did indeed,” laughed Alric, though there was about the Dwarf an aura of pain now, from the deaths of his kinsmen. As leader and spokesmen for the Dwarves here, he held himself responsible for their deaths, despite their volunteered participation in the rescue.

“
Yes, well I will find a means to repay you one day, Kylaran. Preparations are being made for your journey, so do not worry.” Rising, the Barbarian clasped Kyle’s hand warmly. “I must return and speak with my father. Farewell!”

“
When do we leave?” asked Kyle as the footsteps of the big barbarian faded down the corridor.

“
Two days. We must finish preparations and wait until you recover enough to make the journey.”

“
Two days?” whispered Kyle, settling into the bed. “Then I had better rest, huh. I am feeling a little tired again.”

With a wan smile, Alric took up the empty tray and tip  toed from the room, though Kyle was already falling to the clutches of sleep by the time he silently closed the door behind him.

The
transition from the Darishi Plains to the northern borderlands of Zarn brought with it an increase in rain and many encounters with passers by, only few of which came close to confrontation through suspicion or ignorance. Valdieron knew little of the Zarn, other than what was commonly spoken of or what little Javin could tell him, which was not much more. He found them to be a trusting and kindly people, however, as was their common regard, though many were farmers or laborers, allowing him to at least relate with them, even if Javin could not.