Hemlock And The Dead God's Legacy (Book 2) (9 page)

After about a minute of running over the uneven rock, she spotted a fissure in the wall of the pass on her left.

A
s she neared, a Tanna Varran fighter emerged from the fissure, looked around, and spotted her.  She recognized Umra Vyle, and as he recognized her, another anguished cry rang out.

“Quickly!  We need help!” he shouted.

Hemlock pushed him aside and shimmied through the fissure in the rock.  She heard him follow behind her, and she thought she heard the lone wizard following behind him.

She emerged into the adjacent pass, and looked around her.  Umra Vyle shouted at her and pointed left with a bloodied arm.

Hemlock drew her sabres and ran in the direction he had pointed.  Umra Vyle and the wizard followed soon after.

Vyle was shouting behind her
. “Your eyes!”

She
arrived in a clearing where the walls widened to twenty feet or so, and she was immediately blinded by a scintillating light.

She hear
d the scraping sound of claws on rock just in time, and ducked under a leaping charge from a great beast.

Her vision quickly acclimated to the brilliant light that emanated from a huge wild
cat, which was covered in stripes of garish colors.  Amazingly, the end of the brilliant rainbow seemed to stream from an aura that surrounded the beast.

The cat sprung at her again.  She dodged to the sid
e with a speed that equaled that of the massive cat, and was able to rake the side of its bulky body with one of her sabres.

Blood that had a
luminous color not unlike that of the rainbow splattered on her leg, as the cat roared angrily and turned.  Then she noted with considerable surprise that the cat’s wounds seemed to be healing before her eyes, and were soon completely gone.

Hemlock felt the warmth of her own blood flowing down her left arm.

It must have clawed me.  It doesn’t feel like it’s bad.  But how do I kill this thing?

She faced the beast
at a distance of several paces.  The cat roared aggressively.

Hemlock heard Umra Vyle and the wizard enter the clearing behind her.

Seeing this, the beast tensed as if to charge again, and Hemlock barely managed to avert her eyes before the bright light flared again, and she heard the wizard cry out from behind her: “I’m blinded!”

Where is Vyle?

The beast was coming at her again in a low, leaping attack before she had time to locate Vyle.  Hemlock realized that the outstretched claws of the cat were too wide for her to avoid them with a lateral move.  With little time left to react, she decided to jump over the beast and risk being enveloped in the rainbow that emanated from it.

She easily cleared the jaws of the cat as it desperately tried to bite her, and as she passed into and through the rainbow field, she felt no ill effects from it.

But the cat roared in agony as it landed and dodged an ineffective thrusting attack from Umra Vyle, who was wielding his spear, but keeping it close to his body in a defensive posture.

Hemlock thought that the rainbow now shone more dimly from the beast, and the once brilliant colors that played over its coat were now
somewhat muted.

As
she braced for another charging attack, the cat jumped sideways with a roar and there was a blinding flash.

The rainbow and
its light were gone.

With the cat
having apparently fled, Hemlock was able to survey the clearing around her.  There were three Tanna Varran bodies there and several broken spears.

Umra Vyle ran past Hemlock and knelt beside one of the bodies, grasping
a lifeless hand.  Hemlock coldly considered that these were probably blood relatives of Umra Vyle.  But the sympathy that she felt for him was overshadowed by anger.

Why did he run away?  Were his clan members already dead
when he ran?  Or did he leave them to die so that he might escape alive?

Hemlock
wanted answers from Umra Vyle, but seeing him in mourning made her reconsider shouting accusations at him.

Soon Tored and Taros Sundar arrived in the clearing.

Hemlock watched Tored as the loss of life registered over his features.  She thought that his posture seemed to slump perceptibly.

Tored, Taros Sundar and Umra Vyle each paired up with another Tanna Varran, and, together, they carried the bodies out of the pass.

Once beyond the passes, the reassembled group carried the bodies several hundred yards beyond the hill before stopping.

A wizard attended to Hemlock’s
injury, which ended up being just a shallow flesh wound.

Hemlock observed that the loss of life had dispelled any apparent tension between the
Umra clan and the Taros clan.  But she wondered how long it would last, and she was worried about Tored.  She still perceived a difference in his bearing that seemed fundamental in a disturbing way. 

Surely the loss of three warriors under his command won’t affect him.  How many were lost at Tor Varnos? 
Why does he seem so affected?

As the Tanna Varrans looked for a suitable spot to light burial pyres, Renevos approached Hemlock.

“It’s unfortunate that we were attacked like that.  Who knew that a chaos creature would stalk us for miles?  It’s the first I’ve heard of such an encounter.  Interesting ability the beast had, too.  You said it teleported away?” said Renevos.

“Yes, it just jumped, there was a flash, and it was gone.”

“Interesting.  That is potent magic—and accomplished with a natural ability.  Our teleportation magic is based on metallurgy.  We will clearly have to rethink that approach.”

Men just died and he wants to talk about magic trivia.  Typical wizard.  Maybe t
his is a good time for me to talk to Taros Sundar.

Hemlock
excused herself from Renevos, and walked toward the Taros family. She noted with relief that few eyes in the camp were on her as she approached Taros Sundar.

"Could I talk to you
for a moment?  Alone?" she asked.

Taros Sundar smiled a muted
smile.  "Of course, Hemlock."

The pair walked for several yards to a nearby copse of trees.

"Look, I know that this is the first time I've spoken to you," she said.

"True enough.  It is an honor and a pleasure," said Taros Sundar, smiling again.  Hemlock found his smile to be pleasant, and noted that he almost always used it.

"You know that you are driving Tored to worry, don't you?"

"What, about Umra Vyle?  Yes, I know.  Tored can't help but worry.  I've told him and everyone who'll listen, for that matter, that I'm not interested
in politics.  Yet Umra Vyle continues to posture like a school child.  Did you see how he climbed after Faud?  What was the point of that display?  Does the fact that he can fly faster than Swarth mean that he should be King?"

"Well
, he thinks so.  And according to Tored, he isn't afraid to use violence."

"Umra Vyle wouldn't dare attack
me.  I’m a member of a noble family.  And he must realize that I don’t intend to be King.  But what he may not realize is that I will do everything in my power to prevent him from becoming King"

“Exactly
my point!  But I think you may be wrong about him not realizing that.  And that’s probably reason enough for him to try to silence you.”

“If he killed me the Elders would never make him King.  He must understand that.”

“But you dishonor him publicly.  Can’t he do something about that?”

Taros
Sundar’s features darkened in response. “Yes, he could challenge me to a duel.  But we haven’t had a duel in ten years.  They are considered barbaric.  I doubt that the Elders would elect him to be King if he resorted to dueling me.”

“Are you sure
, though?  Because Tored doesn’t think that you’d survive a duel against him until you get older.”

“True enough.  But if I wait until I get older, then he will already be King—
likely for the rest of my life.  I have to do something now.  I have to show the people what his true character is.  I grew up with him, and I know him well.  He is strong enough, but when met by strength, he falters.  That is a poor quality for a King.”

Hemlock turned away from Taros Sundar as she considered what she had seen Umra Vyle do in the pass.

Perceiving her discomfort, he walked around to her front. “What’s the matter?  Did you see something back there?”

I wanted to discuss this with Tored first.  Curses, I let my guard down!

“No, I didn’t.”

“Come
now, I can tell that you saw something.”

“Fine.  I saw Umra Vyle before I got the spot where the wildcat attacked.  He was looking for help.”

Taros Sundar looked angry. “You mean running away!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to.  You’re a warrior.  You know what you saw just as well as I do.  This man can’t be King!”

OK, this isn’t going well.

“Can’t you talk to others in his clan?  Can’t you talk to the Elders?  Why are you taking this on your shoulders alone?”

“Because everyone fears his strength.  And he is the strongest among us
, besides Tored—just not the best.  We need a brave and just man for our King.”

“Taros Sundar, I can appreciate where you are coming from.  I did things that I believed in—even when I knew they were dangerous.”

“And you did what you needed to do—you changed things for the better!”

“But it cost me dearly.  People died.  Many people.
  Are you willing to have people die to further your cause?  Think about that before you act rashly.”

“
But how many people will die if Umra Vyle becomes King and is not a good leader for my people?”

“Work with others and consult with Tored.  He’s smarter than you give him credit for.  There must be a way to stop Umra Vyle without risking your own life in the process.”

Taros Sundar did not respond, and his expression told Hemlock that he was skeptical.

Hemlock and Taros Sundar returned to the group as the funeral pyres were being lit
, and all paused to pay their respects to the fallen.  A short ceremony ensued, led by Tored.  When everyone had paid their respects, and the fires were burning strongly, the group resumed their journey to Tor Varnos.

Chapter Five

The unity between the Tanna Varran factions did not last very long. 

After another uneventful day of travel, they had reached the frontiers of the Witch Crags.  It seemed to Hemlock that the sight of their native lands sparked a revival of the tribal discord.

The next morning, the Umra clan was blaming Faud for the deaths of their clan members; and from time to time, angry accusations were flying from their mouths in voices that could clearly be heard by all.

Tored had intervened once already, demanding that the warriors travel in silence from that point on.  After this incident, Hemlock had attempted to break the silence that Tored had traveled under since the wild cat incident.  But the warrior only grunted a dismissive response, and Hemlock withdrew, frustrated and concerned.

The
three tall, steep hills that bordered the valley where the Tanna Varran capital of Tor Varnos was located were visible in the distance, but it was still a day off.  Tored said that once they were certain they were clear of the City, the group would take to the air to cover the remaining distance.  They would fly off and on for the remainder of the day, rest underground in one of the many caves in the area, and reach Tor Varnos the next morning.

Tanna Varran wings had been distributed to all of the wizards.  Renevos was again an impediment to their progress, for he did not take quickly to the use of the wings, and the Tanna Varrans feared to push him to
o quickly due to his relative frailty.

Eventually he grew accustomed to their use, and they began to make good progress.

Hemlock appreciated the sullen beauty of the Witch Crags as she soared over them.  She even felt somewhat inspired by her surroundings, wishing intensely for the well-being of the Tanna Varrans after their impending disconnection from the City.  It was a land that she had grown to love despite its harshness—and perhaps because of it.  She thought her affection for Tored was based on similar sentiment.

They were able to repeat the cycle of flight, landing and magical recharge eight times before the shadows grew long, and the telltale mists of the restless spirits of the land began to coalesce around them.

Tored led the group toward a non-descript ravine wherein lay a cave entrance that was fronted by a stout doorframe and a sturdy, iron-shod door.  Tored recovered a key from under a nearby rock and unlocked the door.  The key was replaced, and the group entered, ignited torches, and shut the door behind them with a resounding thud.

The stale air and humidity
enveloped the group as they proceeded down a natural passage that was well worn.

Hemlock had taken to chatting with Taros Sundar, and he had quickly learned to restrain his
angry talk about Umra Vyle, for her sake.

Hemlock
was attracted to the younger Taros Sundar in a way she had never felt for his brother, Taros Ranvok.  She was surprised—and it was an attraction of personality more than physicality.  His merriment, which managed to surface through the weight of the recent events that had everyone’s spirits pinned beneath them, had made her laugh on more than one occasion.

Her
attraction made her mind return to Falignus, and the portrait of the young, innocent boy that had lived happily before being cast aside by the machinations of his father, Zaringer.

S
he also kept her eye on Tored as they walked, making sure to wander into his vicinity on occasion, giving him the opportunity to speak with her should he choose to do so—which he did not.

But, finally,
as they approached a large cavern lit by green lichen clinging to its walls in great abundance, Tored did approach Hemlock.  He motioned to Umra Vyle and Taros Sundar to join them.  The latter two approached, looking uneasy in each other’s vicinity.

“We have reached the chamber where
parties normally camp, but something feels amiss.  There are gaps in the lichen that I do not remember, and there is a strange scent in the air.”

“I agree.  Something does seem different.  I suggest that we fan out and patrol the area before bedding down,” said Umra Vyle.

“Let’s enter the cavern with care, establish that it is secured, and then sent out patrols, as Umra Vyle suggests.  Renevos and the wizards can guard the cavern.  Hemlock, I’d like you to take Faud with you, and backtrack along the way we came, ensuring that we are not being followed.”

“What’s the likelihood of that?” she asked, sensing that her role was merely to keep Faud out of trouble.

Tored gave her a hard look that was softened by an understanding expression when he thought the others weren’t looking.  “Faud will demand to be included in a patrol.  This arrangement will be best,” he said, simply.

Hemlock nodded with some reluctance.

So, in a few moments, Hemlock found herself walking alone with Faud.

Great
. Thanks, Tored.

They walked in silence for several minutes.  For once, Faud did not seem inclined to converse, and Hemlock was relieved.  But then, fearing that he was mired in some dark depression that reminded her too much of her concerns for Tored, she compelled herself to start a conversation.

“Faud, what happened with the birds?  You realize how serious that was, right?”

When Faud responded, his voice carried an odd tone of indifference.  “The screeching of those creatures inflamed me to the point where death seemed preferable to enduring
it for another second.”

Hemlock decided to venture into sensitive territory
. “You’ve seen your share of death, I hear.”

Faud turned to her and his deep brown eyes seemed guarded
, yet yearned to express themselves.

“Yes
.”

“So have I,” she replied.

“I lost everyone that I cared for.  My existence now is just a slow, painful march to death.  For there can be no meaningful life without family, right?”

Hemlock thought of her sister Mercuria, and what her loss might do to her.  She shuddered at the thought, and felt more empathy for Faud.

“Sometimes, new family emerges to replace the old,” Hemlock said.

Faud was seized by a passion and turned to Hemlock
. “But my blood has been wrenched from this world!  They can never be replaced!”

Hemlock tried to calm him by maintaining her relaxed tone
. “But you could have children.  Sometimes friends become like family.  It has happened to me.”

Safreon!

She saw Faud taking measure of her as they faced one another, the weight of the conversation becoming almost palpable.

And then he smiled.  He knelt on the stone floor and searched for something in a backpack.  He withdrew an ancient looking ornate box framed in gold leaf.  Faud opened the box, and rose to show its contents to her.  It was lined with a rich black velvet, and inside was a red piece of cloth that been rolled into a small scarf.

“I like you, Hemlock. You’re different than we Tanna Varrans…more elemental. It would honor me if you would wear this loop around your wrist. It is said to bring good luck to friends of my…family.”

Hemlock looked at the bright red
cloth as Faud extended the box toward her. The red cloth also looked ancient yet well preserved, and there were tatters of frayed fabric along its length.  It was woven with a level of craft that she had never beheld, with intricate raised threads portraying a repeating pattern of griffin heads in profile across its surface.

She smiled at him and withdrew it, tying it gently around her right wrist.

Suddenly her head swooned and her consciousness was swept away into a trance.

She was in an unfamiliar town, and a crowd was assembled. A figure moved through the crowd in a flowing red robe
that she somehow knew was made from the same red fabric Faud had just handed her. Her senses thrilled as she saw the figure through the crowd, but, try as she might, she could not catch more than a glimpse of him.  She had a sense of incredible peace that seemed heightened whenever she managed to catch sight of that red robe.

Then, s
lowly, she became conscious of Faud’s voice in her ear, the fact that she was resting on her back on the cold stone, and of the stale air of the cave. The vision of the town and the wonderful figure faded.

“We call
this ‘Kinslayer.’ It is an ancestral weapon used by Witchawn when we fight. You know us as witches, of course. I am Kendral Witchawn, last of the Witchawn line—since you killed my sister, and the blue devils killed my other sibling, that is.  The wretch known as Faud died some time ago when we happened upon him and his family.  His circumstances have proven to be an effective cover for me.  It’s taken me surprisingly little time to get close to you.”

Faud
had a firm grip on her neck, and was close to choking her, but Hemlock felt her senses and strength returning rapidly. She bided her time and listened, as she wondered about him and his change in tone.

Is he claiming to be a Witch?

“The Kinslayer is said to show the victim an alternate life, and render them helpless to resist or defend themselves. It is said to provide some glorious vision which robs the victim of the will to resist.  My sister underestimated you. Clearly, if you have the power to slay one of us, then you must be one of us. She should have used the Kinslayer against you. But the fool left it in her ziggurat. After she was slain, I searched the ruins of her fortress, and I found it.”

Faud
shifted position and sat in front of her, his forked tongue convincing Hemlock that his tale was more than the product of the delusions of a Tanna Varran warrior.

But I thought the witches could only possess women?

“I had no great love for my sister, but the Tanna Varrans hunt us now, and I will not crawl into some hole and wait to die. I will kill you and then I will kill Tored. Once I do that, the Tanna Varrans will have no true leaders. Then I will finally deliver our race from their annoying intransigence, and my people will unite behind their first King to drive the Tanna Varrans from our lands like the wretches that they are!”

Hemlock felt her full
strength restored and at her command. With a rapid strike, she pummeled the unsuspecting Witch in the jaw, and he lost hold of her neck, landing hard against the rock wall some ten feet distant.

Hemlock stood and unsheathed her
sabres, conscious of the Tanna Varran magic that flowed through them as a result of a recent enchantment by their shamans.

The Witch discarded
the physique of Faud in a small explosion of flesh and blood, which left the cave floor slick with fluid for ten feet in every direction. The pale form of an impossibly noble man stood before her, possessing a beauty comparable to his sister.

“
I see that the Kinslayer didn’t work.  So you are not of our kind,” the witch stated flatly, his voice taking on an ethereal quality and a different pitch than when he had posed as Faud.

The Witch began to run swiftly, surprising Hemlock. He almost escaped
from her view before Hemlock caught him with an inhuman burst of speed and hamstrung him with two swift blows from behind.

The Witch fell hard, rolled and struck at Hemlock with a ghostly blade that appeared
from nowhere in his hand.

Hemlock parried, going on the defensive as the Witch pressed
a violent and skillful volley of thrusts and slashes.

Noticing a tendency toward advancing too rapidly in her adversary
, Hemlock drew him in with a step back and then stepped into his attack, catching him with a thrust from her sabre in the upper chest beside his sword arm.

He cried out and struck at her with his other arm
in a balled fist, but Hemlock was able to duck most of the blow, and only suffered a glancing hit as she dropped low and disengaged.

The witch’s fine features were wavering, switching to an elderly and gaunt face and then switching back to a glorious picture of manhood in its prime.

He smiled suddenly, and dropped his sword, as his chest wound spewed a chalky white substance which dissipated before it reached the floor of the cavern.

“I can see that my gamble has cost me.
End it swiftly for me then. Complete the slaughter of my people. Is that all you are, then—a vengeful killer? You just spoke of family and friendship.  You seem to aspire to loftier ideals. But in the end, you’re a cold-blooded killer, like we all are.”

He spat
at her contemptuously.

Hemlock
regarded him for a few moments. Then, reaching a decision, she walked toward him.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head d
ownward, preparing for the coup-de-gras.

His eyes bolted open as Hemlock slipped the
red cloth around his wrist.

“NO!” was the last thing he shouted before his eyes took on a distant look.

Hemlock left him there for several minutes, watching as his form fully assumed its natural, elderly appearance. But she became increasingly troubled by his sobbing and crying. Finally she took pity on him and removed the cloth.