Dimwater's Demons (6 page)

“Ravenel followed the tunnel for more than half an hour as it wound downward, spiraling deeper into the earth below. He passed by the torn bodies of many more men as he went. The air grew thicker further down, and there arose a somewhat sour odor as he neared the main chamber, but what surprised him most was that there appeared to be a light coming from deeper inside the tunnel.

“Slowly, very slowly, he came around the final bend into the main chamber, and what he saw almost blew him over. There, standing defiantly in the large chamber, was an ancient temple. It was cylindrical in design, rising up as an oversized support column to the cave ceiling above and joining with it thirty feet above his head. The entrance, a single, enormous, black, stone door, was flanked on either side by oversized granite statues of demonic warriors. So astonished was he that his heart almost stopped beating within his chest. Ravenel then noted several large sconces along the outside of the temple, each of them ablaze, sending light flooding through the chamber.

“A low, yet distinct growl alerted him to the presence of yet another garunda. Ravenel slowly turned his head to the left to regard the monster, and he was surprised, happily so, to discover the broken shaft of a large spear protruding from the beast’s front leg, along with several arrows embedded deep in her flanks. This beast would not be half as hard to slay.

“The beast continued to growl, but she did not advance, and it was only as she paced sidelong in front of him that Ravenel noticed her oversized belly. This garunda was pregnant. Ravenel thanked the gods for his fortunate timing, for he knew that if the beast had succeeded in giving birth, it would have spelled almost certain disaster for the townsfolk.

“He quickly drew out his mini crossbow, loaded a poisonous bolt, and then let fly for the beast. She tried to dodge the bolt, but she was too wounded to escape. The shaft bit deep into her side, spilling its poison into her blood. Within moments her steps were shaky and her growl was almost inaudible. She roared once, albeit weakly, and then fell onto the stone with her head facing Ravenel. Ravenel then loaded another bolt. He took aim at the beast’s head and let loose. The bolt hit home and sent the beast to the fires of Hammenfein. Never one to take a chance against nature, especially the darker forces of nature, Ravenel retrieved one of the sconces from the outside of the temple and set it to the body and let the flames consume the evil beast along with her unborn demons.

“A whoosh of air erupted from the temple then as the large, stone door was flung open with ease. Ravenel spun around to see a tall, pale-faced figure standing in the doorway before him. She wore gray and red robes, with her silver hair in a single plaited braid that sat lazily over her shoulder. A pair of wicked scimitars hung at the figure’s sides.

‘“You killed them,’ the shade sneered as it stepped out from the doorway.

‘“I did,’ Ravenel replied as he closely studied the new threat. It was almost hard to discern, but he decided that this particular shade was, or had been at one time, a female elf. Her facial features seemed even more prominent now with her faded and gray skin pulled so tightly against her cheek bones. Her teeth seemed almost serpentine-like as she hissed at Ravenel. Her eyes were bereft of all color, leaving only white orbs to look at. Ravenel knew that those white eyes had led to the demise of many people, for the first few to come against this strange and powerful foe had mistakenly thought that the eyes were sightless. This, as Ravenel knew, was not the case. In fact they could see quite well, better than most of the fairer races of the realm even.

‘“It was the people of Kilistyrin who disturbed my slumber,’ she hissed as she gently floated down over the stone steps to the floor of the chamber, her gray and red cloak flowing out behind her. ‘I have slept here longer than those pathetic worms have walked in the sunlight, and now you think you can desecrate my temple without recompense?’

“Ravenel felt his legs go weak. His very energy was being drained from him magically by the shade. His large, muscular frame soon felt weak all around. His mind went cloudy. He reached up to put his hand to his head, but as he moved he brushed against the handle of his dwarf-forged hand-axe. Suddenly he felt a new surge of energy rush through him. He grasped his axe and loosened it from the harness on his belt. He hoisted it in front of him and was amazed to see the old runes come alive, almost burning with a blue glow about them. He knew instantly that the dwarven magic had somehow stopped the assault on his energy.”

“Dwarven weapons are the best,” Leatherback said with a satisfied hiss.

Kyra smiled and continued. “The shade shrieked as she realized that she could no longer suck Ravenel’s life force from him. ‘Your magic won’t save you,’ she snarled. The shade rushed forward through the air in a blur, eager to devour Ravenel’s energy. Down she descended, hard, as she raked a clawed hand out for Ravenel’s face. The hero deftly moved his head back, just out of reach, and swiped forward with his hand-axe. The blade connected solidly, swiping off a few of her fingers as it passed.

“The creature howled with a head-splitting pitch that all but shattered Ravenel’s eardrums as she leapt into a backwards somersault away from him. To his horror, she grew new fingers almost in the blink of an eye. She then hissed again, even flicking her tongue like a snake as she conjured forth a black fireball and sent it flying toward Ravenel.

“Though he dove aside, the fire grew larger to defeat his dodge. His legs felt the searing heat as the flames ripped through his clothing and licked at his flesh. The smell of burnt hair assaulted his nostrils as he rose to his feet in time to see the shade’s mouth moving, conjuring another spell.

“Ravenel quickly put an arrow to his bow and let the arrow fly. The garunda’s blood sizzled and crackled as the arrow streaked through the air and sank into the shade’s stomach. The horrid creature’s eyes went wide and she stared down at the arrow with her white eyes.

‘“How could you know?’ she whispered harshly.

“Ravenel scrunched his brow for a moment and then realized that the garunda blood prevented the shade from healing. He looked down at his axe and remembered that he had wiped the blood from the blade before putting it back in its harness. He looked to the pregnant garunda, but the flames had already consumed the blood. He dropped the axe and reached for another arrow tipped with garunda blood. He let them all fly, sinking each shaft into the shade’s chest.

“With every blow, the shade shrank away, screaming and howling in pain. She tried to send magical assaults, but they only fizzled and died before she could launch them. When Ravenel sent the last arrow, he reached for his mini crossbow and fired. The shade took a hit directly in the forehead, the force of the blow jerking her neck and skull backward as it sank in deep. A slight sizzling sound was made as the shade remarkably pulled the bolt loose from her head. With the exception of a slight burn mark, her skin appeared as if nothing had touched her. She also removed the other arrows and dropped them to the ground.

‘“You are better than the others,’ she said. ‘But you shall die here.’

“Ravenel’s jaw hung open in disbelief as he watched her toss aside the bolt that surely would have killed any other creature. He had no other blood-tipped arrows, so he let fly with another bolt, then a second, and a third. The shade simply laughed wickedly at his futile attempts to slay her. Although all of the bolts had hit their marks, nothing seemed to faze this creature.

“Ravenel looked around the chamber, desperately searching for anything that might help him. There was nothing to be found, and soon Ravenel caught sight of another fireball zooming toward him. He did the only thing he could think to do. He ran. He only stopped for a moment to scoop up his axe to protect himself from the shade’s life-drain spell.

Leatherback lifted his head and spat a small amount of blue fire out from his mouth. “He needs more garunda blood,” he said.

Kyra nodded and continued reading. “Wicked laughter followed him as he sprinted out of the chamber and around the corner of the tunnel. The fireball seared the stone wall as it slammed into it with full force, showering Ravenel in sparks and bits of hot stone. He could hear the laughter coming closer and he knew the shade was stalking him. He sprinted up the winding tunnel, dodging the occasional fireball thrown by the shade. His lungs began to burn from the exertion, but eventually he made it to the small chamber where he had defeated the other two garunda beasts. He dropped down next to the first body and opened it with his axe, allowing the blood to spill over the blade. Quickly he dipped the last of his crossbow bolts into the sizzling ooze and loaded his mini crossbow.

“The laughter stopped. Ravenel huddled low in the darkness and waited as he heard the heavy breathing of the vile shade. His heart pounded within.

‘“Can you feel it?’ the shade whispered in the darkness. Suddenly a ball of blue fire appeared and bathed the area in magical light. No sooner did Ravenel see the shade than he took aim with his crossbow. The first shot missed, and he had to duck behind a stalagmite to avoid the shade’s magical fire. As the fire roared around him, he reloaded the mini crossbow with the last bolt. The blood on the bolt burned his fingers, but he pushed the pain out of his mind.

“In a fury of motion, Ravenel leapt to his feet. He dashed around the corner and ran straight for the shade. He swiped out with his axe for the creature’s head, but he missed the mark and barely sliced the creature’s left shoulder. The shade hissed and recoiled away, but not quickly enough. With his left hand Ravenel levelled the mini crossbow at the shade and fired. The bolt bit deep into the shade’s chest. He could hear bone cracking under the force of the shot. The shade’s skin and tissue sizzled and crackled as a small fire ignited on her chest. The shade howled and writhed in agony. Ravenel brought the axe back up and drove it into the shade’s neck, severing her head from her shoulders. The shade’s eyes rolled back into her head and smoke wafted up from the blistering neck hole.

“Ravenel stepped back from the corpse and watched as a faint, green light emitted from the wounds. Within moments, flames shot out from the shade and the body was soon reduced to ash. His breathing eventually slowed and the ache in his side started to ease up. He replaced his axe, gathered his bow, and made his way to the mouth of the cave. When at last he emerged to the quiet forest, he fell to his knees, overcome with exhaustion.

“He slid back to rest against the mouth of the cave for the night. As he slept, the cool night wind rejuvenated his body and soul. He woke with the first light of the sun and made his way back to Lirian with the good news. He was welcomed with a hero’s parade, and given a large ransom for his reward. As for Lirian and her people, they returned to the cave and collapsed the entrance, and were never bothered by garunda or shades again.”

Leatherback let out a triumphant roar as Kyra closed the book.

The young apprentice reached out and stroked Leatherback just behind the jaw. “So, all we need to do now is find a garunda beast. If we can find one, we can use its blood to make a poison for the shade. Then, we can kill it.”

The dragon let out a throaty growl. “Talk later, priests coming.” He flicked out his tongue and his nostrils flared.

Kyra knew better than to argue with him. He was always able to sense them before they arrived. She quickly slid the book back into her bag and pulled out a brown, leather-bound book of folk tales. The last thing she wanted was for the priests to catch on to what she was after. So, from that moment until they came to perform their examination, she read from the book of children’s stories.

Feberik walked toward the large door flanked by two large, stone gryphons that seemed eternally frozen in the moment just before flight. He stared at the large, iron ring which hung against the wood of the Headmaster’s door. The large man took in a breath before reaching for it. He thought back to what he had done at Caspen Manor, reliving the experience briefly in every smashing detail. Even then he had known he would be held accountable for his actions. It hadn’t seemed to matter then.

Now, as he stared at the iron ring, he nodded his head, comfortable with the decision he had made at Caspen Manor, and prepared to take whatever was coming to him. He lifted his left hand and rapped on the door twice while his right hand reached out and pushed the door open.

“Yes, yes, come in, Master Orres,” the headmaster called out from inside the chamber.

Orres had not been summoned to the headmaster’s office, as would have normally been the case. Instead, he had been instructed to meet Headmaster Herion in a small library down the hall from the office. The room was perhaps only twenty feet deep and fifteen feet wide, with quite a large bit of space dedicated to tall, deep-shelved book cases. A small, arched window of stained glass was the only bit of decoration in the room, and nearly the sole source of light as well. A tall, iron candelabra was situated in the middle of the room, but otherwise the shadows played heavily upon the area.

Headmaster Herion was sitting in a large, overstuffed chair made of off-white cushions, repaired with green patches of cloth sewn into the arms. The old wizard smiled with twinkling blue eyes from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. His face was dotted with a short, stubbly growth of white hair rather than his usually clean-shaven look. He was wearing a set of flannel pajamas, despite it being light outside and supper still in the process of being prepared.

“I would ask that you pardon my appearance,” Headmaster Herion said in his gravelly voice. “I tend to enjoy the more lax schedule in the summer time, and that often means spending an entire day in my pajamas.”

Feberik nodded.

“Close the door, will you?” Herion said.

Feberik closed the door and took a couple of steps into the room, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest as if he were about to be ripped apart by a commanding officer. “You wished to see me?”

Headmaster Herion nodded and brought a glass up to his lips, tilting it high into the air and pulling the very last drop of the burgundy liquid out before setting the glass down upon the small side table next to his chair.

“Have you ever spent a day in your pajamas?” Herion asked.

Feberik balked and frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Hmm, yes, I bet you are if you have never tried it,” Headmaster Herion said as he crossed his left leg over his right. “It is wonderfully liberating, which in turn helps a man think clearly.”

Feberik scrunched his brow together and shook his head. “You asked to see me about my pajamas, sir?”

“No, no, of course not,” Herion said as he slapped a hand to his knee. “I summoned you to ask about these.”

Feberik looked down and watched as Headmaster Herion pulled out a small bundle of opened letters. He unfolded them, and then shuffled a few around that had somehow managed to be turned upside down.

“Do you happen to know a Miss Carlyn Marks?” Herion asked as he held up a letter.

Feberik shook his head. “Can’t say that I do, sir.”

“Well, it appears that you threw her husband through a window at Caspen Manor a short time ago.”

“Sir, he pulled a dirk on me, I had little choice.”

Headmaster Herion set the letter aside. “What about a Mrs. Caldwin?”

Feberik shook his head.

“It says here that you tossed her into the hallway.”

Feberik shook his head. “I never roughed up a woman. I did help one off of Lord Caspen’s lap, but all I did was pull her up and then move her toward the hall. I never threw her.”

“I see,” Headmaster Herion said as he set the letter down.

At that moment, it sunk in that Herion had called the woman ‘Mrs. Caldwin,’ and he had to ask for clarification. “Sir, that woman is married?”

“Oh yes, I know her husband well. Master Caldwin is serving in Ten Forts at the moment. I’m sure I have no idea why she would be at Caspen Manor, let alone sitting upon Lord Caspen’s lap as you claim.”

“Headmaster, you know me. I may be a bit rough, but I never lie.”

Herion nodded his head. “No doubt,” he said with a short flick of his wrist. “I have several more letters here. Some from nobility, others from the guards or servants of the manor. Feberik, you are not the judge of morality, do you understand?”

Feberik nodded. “I do, but I couldn’t let it stand.”

“What?” Herion asked. “Are you going to check in on Lord Caspen from time to time and make sure he never has any fun ever again for the rest of his life?”

Feberik cracked a smile he couldn’t hide fast enough before Headmaster Herion saw it.

Herion stood up, tossing the rest of the letters onto the side table. He wagged a bony finger at Feberik. “Master Orres, I understand that you have an arrangement to marry Miss Kyra Caspen—”

“Dimwater, sir,” Feberik corrected.

“Excuse me?” Herion said as his eyes grew stern.

“Her name is Dimwater, remember sir? She took her mother’s name after the tribunal.”

Herion sighed and shook his head. “Whatever you want to call her, the point is you can’t go around bashing heads together every time they cause an offense. Don’t think I don’t remember the time you threatened Master Fenn. You have a temper, and you must learn to control it.”

“It just didn’t seem right,” Feberik blurted out. “With all due respect, his wife’s body isn’t cold yet. He had only just denounced and disowned his daughter. He had no business throwing a drunken party in the first place, let alone cozying up to another man’s wife.”

“What another man does to ease his pains is none of your affair,” Herion said plainly. “It may not sit well with you, but nothing you saw was against the law. Whenever you go out from these halls, you represent not only the Orres family, but Kuldiga Academy.”

Feberik shook his head, his temper beginning to get the better of him. “And this school is supposed to stand for honor, or is that only something we tell the students during intake and graduation ceremonies?”

Herion sighed and went back to sit in the chair once more. “Calm down, Feberik, I didn’t bring you here to discipline you for humbling a wayward noble. I brought you here because you need to understand that you must control your temper if you are to lead.”

Feberik’s mouth opened to say something, but then he stopped and left his jaw hanging as he looked to the headmaster. Lead what? What on Terramyr was the old man talking about.

“Truth is, Feberik, that other people have noticed you. You have made an impression upon those in authority. You have also riled some nobles, of course, but nothing will come of that. These letters have no force behind them, but I want you to read them after I dismiss you so you can try to manage your temper in the future.” Headmaster Herion pointed back over his head toward the stained-glass window. “What do you see?”

Feberik, now utterly confused, took in a breath and shrugged. “I see a man standing upon a great serpent, running a spear through the serpent’s head.”

“Feberik, you know that Kuldiga Academy was founded to protect the realm, yes? It was not only to teach the next generation of warriors and wizards who would fight battles for our defense, but it was also created to establish an elite, powerful unit of well-trained individuals capable of accomplishing special tasks for the king. The window behind you symbolizes this unit.”

Herion snapped his fingers and the light in the window brightened. The images of the man and the serpent extended out from the window until they were inches from Feberik’s face.

“Look at the warrior, Feberik,” Herion instructed. He was the first leader of this unit. The serpent is not to be taken literally, however. It represents a group of necromancers. Perhaps you have heard of the Zmea Necromancers?”

“I have,” Feberik said with a nod.

Herion snapped his fingers again and the image faded back into the window. “The word ‘Zmea’ means snake in one of the arcane languages. Therefore, the image depicts the moment of our victory over them.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Feberik asked.

“Do you know how the headmaster of Kuldiga Academy is chosen?” Herion asked, switching topics abruptly. Headmaster Herion rose from the chair and walked toward Feberik.

The large warrior shook his head. “I assume by seniority,” he said with a shrug.

“Not even close,” Herion said with a raspy laugh. “The headmaster is chosen from among those who serve in this special unit. That way, the unit can continue to operate fully, vanquishing evil and stamping out those that would use magic for nefarious purposes. A vote is cast within the cadre of that unit. The name with the most votes become the next headmaster.” Headmaster Herion smiled again and placed his hands on Feberik’s massive arms. “So what do you say? Want to take a peek at the unit?”

“What would I need to do?” Feberik asked.

“Simple, the unit is commanded by the headmaster, which currently is me. However, I answer directly to King Mathias for everything that is done. If you want a chance to mete out justice, this may be the most fulfilling opportunity that will ever cross your path.”

“Can I tell Janik?”

Herion shook his head. “You will take an oath never to divulge your involvement to anyone. More than that, a spell will be put upon you so that you never break that trust, even if tortured by the enemy.”

“The enemy?” Feberik echoed.

Herion nodded. “There are dark forces all about, my friend. Shadowfiends, necromancers, demons, dragons. The list goes on. To be sure, some of the other masters help from time to time, but if you want the full taste of action and glory, then you need to shake my hand and accept the offer.”

Feberik nodded and looked down to Herion’s hand. “If I refuse?”

Herion nodded solemnly. “Then I will wipe your memory of this part of our conversation and you will remember only that I scolded you for your over-zealous indignation at Caspen Manor. The choice is entirely yours. You will not be punished for refusing, but, if you want to help direct the course of Kuldiga Academy, then you should consider joining. I will add that you have no chance of becoming headmaster if you do not join. However, if you do become part of our unit, I have a feeling that in time you will become a top contender for the position.”

Feberik took in a breath and thought very carefully. “Is it worth it?” he asked.

Herion smiled and his brilliantly white teeth shone brightly. “Feberik, this is what you were born for. These are special assignments from the king. We root out the most dangerous snake pits in the kingdom, and then we eradicate them. Think carefully before you refuse. I cannot make the offer twice if you say no.”

Feberik studied Headmaster Herion’s eyes for some time. Everything in his soul was pulling for it. Even despite the doubts in his mind, which were few, he knew what he would choose. The large man reached forward and took Herion’s hand. “I’m in,” he said.

“Excellent. Go now and take the rest of the night easy. Your induction will occur tomorrow.” Headmaster Herion then wove a spell over Feberik and a silvery tingle ran through the man’s body. “That’s to make sure you don’t say anything about it to anyone else. Go now, supper will be ready soon.”

Feberik nodded and went for the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Herion called out.

Feberik spun on his heels to regard the old wizard.

“You really should try spending a day or two in your pajamas, it does wonders for the mind and soul.”

*****

Kyra opened the door to the classroom and went inside. The early morning sun beamed in from the east, illuminating several spots on the stone floor with its bright light. Cyrus was seated in his chair behind his desk. He was smoking a pipe today, and looking rather weary as the young apprentice made her way to her desk.

“Figure out the lesson I was trying to teach you?” Cyrus asked, referring to the passage about the wraith.

Kyra nodded. “I think so.”

“Good, then tell me what you learned,” Cyrus said as he leaned back and puffed three small rings of smoke into the air.

“The text doesn’t mention this, but I tried to ask
why
the wraith would attack.”

“And?”

“The boy must have had something,” Kyra said. “It took me some time, but I think it wanted his blood.”

“His blood?” Cyrus echoed. “Why on Terramyr would it want that? A wraith is not a vampire.”

Kyra shook her head. “Maybe it didn’t want the actual blood, but maybe there was something about the apprentice that drew the wraith near. I thought of blood because of what happened with me. The first time the wraith attacked me, I had cut myself on a thorn. Now that I know that I have a…” Kyra couldn’t say the words out loud. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the shame she felt whenever she thought of what her true father was.