Flames of Awakening: Faemoch Cycle Book 1 (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

Aportus tiptoed into the room,
knowing that to bear the news that he had just been given meant certain death.
It was not his fault, not in any way, but his master was unpredictable. His
master terrified him. Flickering, shifting shadows made the room more ominous.
No candles were lit. There was no fire laid in the hearth. His eyes darted back
and forth. Was that movement? Aportus suspected that his master already knew,
but he was forced to bear the dreaded news anyway. If not from a need to serve
faithfully, then from a need for propriety. The frightened man just hoped that
his master would show mercy and kill him quickly.

"Master," Aportus said, his
voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," his master said.
Aportus flinched at the sound but the voice led his eyes to his master,
reclining in a chair that faced the darkened window. His master was motionless.
"I am here, Aportus. You have news." It was not a question and
Aportus knew it.

"Yes, sire. The demon
Gredgeshnosch has failed. His horde has retreated, and the beast himself has
been banished."

"I know this." A ball of
orange flames popped into existence inches above the cold hand of the shadowed
man. Aportus exhaled the last of the doubts and regrets of his life; he was
prepared to die now at the hands of his master. "Now, since I cannot
punish the demon for this, someone must..."

"Why not punish the one
responsible for the failure?" A voice from behind the window's curtain
spoke. From the shadows formed a man with a black-dyed leather cloak and hood.
All that was visible of the man from the shadows was the tip of his nose. From
Aportus' angle, the man looked thin but muscular.

"You are good, to have gotten
through my defenses and into my own bedchamber without detection." Anger
colored the master's low voice.

"Not simply good. The
best," the intruder said. "My name is Serick. I offer you another way
to deal with this one."

"What other way would you have?
I have been in conflict with this one since this world was fully formed."

"Now, now," the intruder
said. "We both know that is only half true. Have you not had thousands of
years rest from this... conflict? Yes, of course you have. Now, what I offer at
this time are my considerable services. I can bring the elfling to you. He
defeated your demon too easily. But me? He won't even see me coming," the
smooth voice offered.

"How do you know this?"

A laugh this time, "Did
you?"

Aportus was hushed as was his master.

"My fee is simple. Thirteen
drecmas."

Thirteen, Aportus thought. That's
less than I am given in a month. Why would this one be willing to risk his life
for so little?

"Barely a pittance for so great
a task," his master spoke Aportus' thoughts.

"It is the thrill of the hunt
that I crave. The spread of a name. I have little need of wealth."

"Fine, do what …" but the
master did not get to finish his sentence. The mysterious intruder was gone.

Several seconds passed. Aportus knew
not to speak but was too filled with curiosity to heed his knowledge.
"Master?"

"Ah yes, Aportus," his
master said and extinguished the flaming orb, clenching his fist tight. "I
have another task for you."

"Yes, sire."

Chapter Thirty-nine

The demons that survived flew, or, at
least, tried to fly, away as soon as they learned of their leader's demise.
They had sorely underestimated the battle lust of the barbarians, for as all
but the quickest of the demons turned their backs on the humans, they were cut
down. Only a handful of the monsters were able to make it away.

Bergar pounded determinedly on the
only entrance to Werlgart. Stars lit the night sky and the harsh wind of the
tundra bit through his furs. The gashes and holes ripped by the demons
channeled the wind straight to his flesh.

Light peaked around the edges of the
door, and it slid open. The door watch poked his head from around the entrance.
His dirty face was creased through the center by a scar from his left temple
across his left eye all the way to his right cheek.

"Who ye be?"

Bergar cleared his voice and told the
half truth, "Tolian, the bard who travels with Jaxius. I come to offer
help against the demon host."

The old man grinned from ear to ear.
"Don't need no help with demons. Got 'em all taked care of. What else ye
got?"

"Taken care of?" Bergar
asked.

Well, I suppose the demons would have
gotten here three days ago,
Tolian said.

Right. I didn't think of it that way.
Or maybe I thought they would still be battling. You know? Holed them up in
there like a siege.

"Yeah. Taked care of. That's
what I said. Ye got anythin' else to offer?"

Is he seriously going to make us
freeze to death out here? We have traveled, by foot, for days to get here.
The bard's complaining was getting
to his body companion.

I wouldn't think so, but things have
been strange this winter, to say the least of it.

Bergar shifted uncomfortably, gauging
his chances of slipping in the door with the guard still in place. At length,
he gave up hope and turned to leave.

What? We are just going to give up
and run back to your people's camp? That has to be weeks away by foot. Remember
we flew here?
Tolian
grumbled again at the young barbarian.

The door man roared with laughter.
"Get ye inside Bergar, son of Grundar. Ye knowed ye're welcome here."

Bergar's head snapped back,
questioning how the doorman of Werlgart knew what only a few others in the
entire world knew.

"Yer father is waitin' fer ye in
the great hall."

Bergar pushed through the door and
grinned at the door man as he passed. He made his way to the great hall as
swiftly as he could.

"Tolian," Jaxius greeted
him as he entered the massive stone hall. "Come in, fill your belly. You
missed the fight, but I am sure that you will want to hear the story."

Jaxius helped him to a seat.

"I have to admit to you, Jaxius.
I have returned to the bard's body. It's me, Bergar."

"I know."

"You do? How?" The
barbarian was confused. So was Tolian.

"Well, when Chlora's plants
refused to transport you because you weren't natural, I assumed that meant you
had returned to Tolian's body."

Good, I would have refused to go with
that demon child anyway,
Tolian declared.

"Tolian can hear?"

"Yes," Bergar replied.

"Good. He will surely want to
hear the tale of all that has happened."

Jaxius recounted everything about his
time away from Tolian. Grundar joined them shortly after the story had started.
The three shared stories of their recent travels. None of them wanted to
approach the question that nagged at the edge of the conversation. Finally,
Jaxius broke that boycott.

"We must find out what we can
about your condition, Bergar. We need to find someone more versed in this sort
of thing. The knowledge priests in Paradisia might be able to help. Or perhaps
the monks of Yema farther south. I don't know, but we will find a way to set
this right. It's all my fault. And I will fix it."

"Ye canna be blamin'
yerself," Grundar said. "We all knowed what we was gettin' in. Jes'
bring me boy back t' me. Tis hard thinkin' o' me boy so tiny."

I am certainly not tiny. I am exactly
the perfect size, unlike your behemoth of a father,
Tolian exclaimed.

"He disagrees with you on the
size. And he compliments your belly." Bergar told his father.

They all laughed at that and toasted
the road ahead.

Epilogue

Winds buffeted the man. The sharp
rocks had ceased to hurt when they cut into his palms. The rags that he wrapped
around his hands were long since soaked through with blood. Finally, though, he
had reached his destination. He hooked an arm over the top of the flat
outcropping. Straining, he pulled himself up onto the ledge. Taking one last
look down the mountain, he rolled onto his back and stared at the mid-afternoon
sky. The pain from his limbs flooded his entire body, and his skin was as white
from blood loss as the clouds overhead. He climbed this far into the mountain
and had escaped, only to die. He listened to the wind for a few more seconds,
but eventually the blackness took him. He was dead, and now he would accept his
judgment.

"Papa, papa," a little
girl's voice brought him back to his body. "Come quick. Come quick. He's
waking up."

The man cracked his eyes and the
light from the doorway stung. He wondered how long he had slept. Looking down,
he noticed the bandages on his hands had been changed. He was in some sort of
hut on a cot. He started to sit up, but was cut short. An old man hobbled
through the doorway using a cane for support.

"I doubt you will be able to do
much more than sit up. You were near dead when we found you," the old man
said. His dark, wrinkled skin seemed stretched over nothing more than bones. He
was dressed in loose, plain clothes.

"Where am I?"

"You traveled here by yourself,
and you don't know where you are?" The old man asked. "You are in the
mountain kingdom of Overlook. Part of Kel Mordan. You can stay as long as you
like. Your wounds have closed and we had a healer look at you. You had a lot of
broken bones. You must have taken more than one nasty spill on the side of the
mountain."

The traveler nodded and thanked the
old man.

Several weeks passed, and his
strength had returned. He had started walking and helping in the gardens a bit
to repay the villagers for their kindness. He had actually grown comfortable
here.

"Might just stay here," he
said one night as he lay down to sleep.

"I wouldn't make that a
promise," a voice drifted to him from the door to his hut. The bearer of
the voice stayed just outside to keep to the shadows. "Your services are
needed."

"Who are you?"

"None of your concern. The issue
at hand is that you have forgotten who you are. Now it's time to remember and
come with me, Morgrys."

To find out when the next installment of

The Faemoch Cycle

releases, sign up for Michael's mailing list at the link
below.

http://www.mdreynolds.net/newsletter/

Check out Michael’s website at
http://www.mdreynolds.net

Follow him on Twitter at
@WriteAsReyn

Follow on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/michaelreynoldsauthor

For more fantasy by Michael Reynolds, check out his hilarious
Infinite Castle short:

http://tinyurl.com/hvdur2d