Beyond the Edge of Dawn (17 page)

Uelg

If ever a part of Malweir personified decay, it was the Uelg. A place so old man had no remembered name for it, the great swamp was all but forgotten by time. The very ground was a festering bog. It was a place where creatures came to die. The air was humid and ripe with foul stench. Nothing good lived within. Fumes and gases turned the sky sickly shades of decay.

“This is a dread place, Pirneon,” Kavan said through the cloth covering his nose and mouth.

Mold covered the nearby vegetation. The ground sank as they walked. Kavan instantly grew concerned over stumbling across a patch of quicksand. Better men had come and died here.

“What choice do we have? It is still far to Aradain, and our enemy will not have abandoned their hunt.”

“We could double back and swing east up into the Crags.”

Pirneon frowned. “No. That’s too dangerous, even for us. We are in no condition to fight, and the Fist is still out there.”

Mist clung to the horses ankles. Kavan glanced worriedly. “I feel something unclean about this place. The swamp is dangerous.”

“Hopefully enough to deter the Fist.”

“It will also give them time to circle around and cut us off,” Kavan said. “It’s impossible to move quickly through here. The swamp is old. Many creatures from the days before time wait within.”

“This talk is going nowhere,” Pirneon said with finality. “Push on and get it over with.”

Geblin rolled his eyes at their banter. His people knew more about the Uelg than any other race, and these knights were too foolish to ask. The Gnome kingdom bordered the great swamp. Hundreds of hunters had been lost to the perpetual murk. Gnomes were highly superstitious, and their eccentric losses soon spread. The Uelg became a house of evil, and the folk of Malweir stayed clear lest they, too, were swallowed.

Now he was headed directly into it. Geblin had begged for a weapon after revealing parts of his true nature and was rewarded with one of Barum’s daggers. The Gaimosian blade was a sword in his small hands.

Leaning close to Kavan, he whispered, “We shouldn’t be here. This place is evil.”

Kavan offered a wry grin. Danger flashed behind his eyes. Then, he rode in trail of Pirneon. Geblin felt his already failing hopes of survival dash apart. He knew without a doubt that he was going to die here. He cursed the day the knights had rescued him from the Mountain Ogre. He cursed every decision he’d made to stay after.

“Take heart, Geblin. There are no finer warriors in the world,” Barum told him in passing.

The Gnome snorted. “Words. Just words.”

His was the last horse to enter the swamp, escorting Aphere along the way. He prayed to come out the other side.

The day crawled agonizingly along. Temperatures became unbearable fast. All five were soaked through with sweat and reek. It dripped down their backs, into their eyes. They found it hard to breathe as the swamp choked in around them. It was far worse than the closeness of Hresh Werd.

Vision was limited to a handful of meters. They caught heavy footsteps crashing through the unseen distance. Creatures of the old world, Kavan had said. The sounds made him want to break into a run but doing so would spell their doom. Mud sucked them ever downward. Boulders sprang up from the mist to block the already slender paths. Every footstep became a struggle just to move forward.

Fallen trees lined the paths. Mold drooled off slime-encrusted bark. Hot splashes sizzled over pools of acidic water. Other pools were coal black and bubbling over. The knights agreed that this was a world gone mad. Halfway through the afternoon, they stumbled upon the remains of a gigantic beast long dead. Bleached white bones littered the area, most easily larger than a man. The rib cage blocked the path like an eerie tunnel. The knights stared in wonder, each wondering what sort of creature could have walked the world.

Pirneon finally called a halt once they cleared the skeleton. His silver-grey hair was plastered to his skull. His eyes bore an almost hollowed out gaze. “Not even the sun.”

Kavan drank deep from his canteen. “We could be going in circles, though it doesn’t feel right.”

“The Fist would be mad to follow us.”

Kavan forced a laugh. “Just as mad as we are. Do you have any idea how big this swamp is?”

Pirneon didn’t.

“We’ll have to start looking for a defensible place to spend the night. This weather is taking a toll on the animals as well,” Kavan said.

“Are you mad?” Geblin exclaimed.

A great and terrible roar shattered the still of the swamp.

“We cannot stay the night in this!”

Pirneon agreed but didn’t see another solution. “Do you have a better idea?”

“This swamp is evil. You’re damning us all.”

“We’ve been damned for many long years, Gnome. Unless you have something pertinent to contribute, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

“Then we sleep on the bones of my people,” Geblin fumed.

She awoke a short time later, dazed. Much of color had returned, though her body ached from such exertion. Borderline dehydrated and starving, Aphere clumsily accepted food and drink while she attempted to recall the events of the battle.

“I don’t know what happened,” Aphere told them.

Only Pirneon remained separate. His condemnation of her abilities wasn’t about to shift simply because she woke up. Aphere was an abomination, and he intended to remind her so.

She finished the last bite of dried venison and washed it down with lukewarm water. “I thought it was the end. We were surrounded and about to be overwhelmed. I felt a rush through my veins. It was like fire spreading through me. I blacked out after feeling like I’d caught fire.”

“You’ve been unconscious for nearly two days,” Barum said.

He finished repacking the rations and canteens. Nerves threatened to get the best of him. He felt like the swamp wanted them to stay. Barum felt restricted in unimaginable ways.

Kavan laid a hand on her shoulder. “Aphere, are you well enough to travel? We need to leave this place.”

“I think so. I’m just tired,” she replied, blinking thoughtfully. “Where are we?”

Kavan offered a sheepish grin and told her what had happened since she blacked out. An enormous shadow soared overhead, giving him pause.

“We must go,” Pirneon said harshly.

Kavan nodded and helped Aphere ease into her saddle. Everything was against them, and it didn’t matter if she was well enough to ride. The shadow passed again as the Gaimosians moved out.

They spent the night in silence, tucked away in a rotted copse of firs. Great branches bowed down, the browned needles swept outward in a protective fan. It was inadequate for cover, but the knights failed to find anything else. A brief dinner was eaten to the accompanying sounds of the night. Wordlessly, they bedded down and pulled their guard shifts, all the while praying nothing wicked came from the dark.

Dawn arrived without fanfare. The murk remained oppressive, nearly impenetrable. After a while, it began to dampen spirits and affect morale. Ever the swamp pressed in on them. Suffocating. Stifling. It was late afternoon when they stumbled upon a great lake in the middle of the swamp.

Aphere eyed the haze-covered waters uneasily. A warning went off in the back of her mind, a silent alarm alerting her to the pain of the future. She held her tongue, though, concerned with Pirneon’s mistrust and growing intolerance. Still, she teased her blade from the scabbard just in case.

“What do you feel?” Geblin asked, startling her.

She looked down softly on the Gnome. Most of her earlier anger had dissipated. She smiled. It looked like Geblin wasn’t going to be killed by them after all.

“A thing of great evil,” she whispered so as not to arouse the others. “We are being stalked.”

Geblin had suspected as much. “There’s nothing for it. Only death haunts this land. I tried to warn him.”

Aphere’s eyes narrowed with the uncanny sharpness of a hunter. Then their world erupted in violence. Leaves, muck, and branched exploded from the heart of the Uelg. A dreadful scream wailed across the moors. The force of the blast knocked Kavan from his saddle. He hit hard, sinking into the rotting ground. Swords drawn, the others circled and prepared for battle.

Mist sped by them, drawn into a funnel of power at the center of a pool of black water. The air chilled. An overwhelming sense of dread spread from the gathering mists. Darkness took shape in the center.

“What evil is this?” Pirneon growled.

Kavan groaned and struggled to his knees. A think sliver of blood trickled from the corner of his right eyebrow.

Geblin cried out, “Waugh! I told you! We’re trapped!”

The Gnome drew his dagger and readied for death. A blast of power rippled from the dark. Frenzied winds lashed into the swamp. Trees swayed, threatening to break. Barum’s horse reared up and let out a frightened cry. They were forced to shield their faces from debris slamming into them. Their breath came in icy plumes.

Slowly, the figure in the center of the anomaly began to take form. Rank and fetid, the creature stood seven feet tall. Hidden beneath a molded black cloak, it raised an arm and gestured accusingly to the knights. Smoldering darkness pulsed from beneath his hood. Bone shone through the decomposing flesh of his fingers. What flesh remained was black, gangrenous. When it spoke, the voice came out in a tainted rasp.

“Blood must be paid,” he groaned.

Barum’s bow sang. The arrow hissed true, speeding towards the creature’s hooded face only to disintegrate mere inches away. Ashes blew listlessly in the dying wind.

“You cannot harm me.”

Again, he raised his arm, and waves of filth spread forth. Aphere began retching uncontrollably.

“Blood must be paid,” he repeated.

Pirneon backed his horse away. He knew there was no winning this situation. Sword in hand, he struggled to find a way for them all to escape. He had trouble comprehending the monster attacking them. Never in his long, storied career had he seen such malevolence unleashed in a single being. It was as if the very soul of the underworld had spit forth this creation.

Geblin was instantly at Pirneon’s side. Grim determination defined his face. “This evil is more than us.”

The creature waited in the sanctuary of mists.

“Quickly, Gnome, tell me what you know of this,” Pirneon whispered.

Black mist hid the lower body of the creature, adding a terrorizing feel. Geblin chewed his lip in thought. He heard death’s soft whispers of temptation in the back of his mind. It called to him, to them all. Geblin shivered. He knew exactly what evil confronted them, and that scared him even more. Too many of his kin had been claimed in this manner.

“It is a lich,” he said, “A devourer of souls.”

Pirneon gripped his sword tighter, as if that would provide the resolve he required. A lich was a being from the old world, where men held power over life and death. This one should have died out with the rest of its kind. Once a man of incomparable power whose soul refused to die, the lich was neither living nor dead. Legend spoke of ancient sorcerers who did not accept death as the end. They performed spells and rituals to the dark gods in order to live forever. Immortality was exchanged for their souls.

The lich had but one weakness. The source of his power was both boon and bane. Trapped within an amethyst gem was the soul of the undead. That gem gave the lich unlimited power, both over the living and the dead. Destroy it, and the lich would die.

“How can men defeat such as this?” Kavan whispered. His resolve was shaken. Doubt crept in.

Geblin searched the mists until he spied what he was looking for. “There! The gem atop his staff. We must destroy it. It’s the only way. Can the lady use her magic?”

Pirneon shifted his gaze back to Aphere. His hatred and mistrust was temporarily gone. Sadly, Aphere was in no condition to fight. Her last efforts had drained her completely, so much he was certain she would die if she tried to use it again.

“No. We must do this,” he said in a measured voice.

“Then we will die,” Geblin replied.

Barum fired again, and again. Both arrows burned to ash. The lich howled in fury. His gem flashed brightly. A quake rippled across the ground. Spouts of flame slashed up from the bog. Wails of unimaginable pain rode the winds as hundreds of partially decomposed figures began crawling from the earth. The dead rising from the grave. Kavan returned to his normal self and grinned savagely at the prospect of a fight. One by one, the dead drew rusted weapons and attacked. Kavan rushed forward to meet them.

His sword sliced deep, ripping strips of desiccated flesh and ichor away with each swing. Hands and heads were cleaved off. Torsos were brutally slashed through, but for every one Kavan slew, more would arrive. The rest of the Gaimosians entered the fight at his sides under the watchful gaze of the lich. Only Geblin held back.

Most of the dead were Gnomes. His heart ached for his fallen kin. Anger and horror collided in his heart. So many of his people had been killed here. So many. Geblin felt the blood rage steal upon him, and he leapt into battle. His sword slashed and cut in reckless abandon. More than anything, he wished to send their trapped souls on to their final resting place. A liberation of the spirit. Tears streamed down his face as he slew Gnome after Gnome.