Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (16 page)

“A siege,” Kaelesh said. “Long
and slow. Let them suffer.”

Orgoth nodded. “My choice as
well.”

“I have news of the book. A
small band is traveling with it through Dalusia.”

“Heading this way?”

“I don’t believe so. They are
several days west of Wingate Falls, and appear to be heading toward Elysium’s
Neck. A pair of hunters tracked the two brothers, and one was killed trying to
retrieve the book. I saw it myself, so I’m sure they have it. The second hunter
will keep after them. The boys are traveling with three others, who seem to
have some skill in combat, and knowledge of the book and what it can do.”

“Are they a threat?”

“Themselves? No. None could
open the book. As a matter of fact, two are holy men of some sort. But the risk
of letting them continue on grows the further north they go. We don’t want someone
else to slay them and take the book, someone who might be cleverer than our
friend Landri. So, I want you to see to it that we get the book back.”

“Should I give it my personal
attention?”

Kaelesh waved a hand. “No. Stay
with the army. I was thinking a small force could do the job. Send one of your
lieutenants, though. He’ll be able to speak to the hunter directly so they’ll
be easy to find.”

“Sending any humans at all
would be dangerous. They’d be traveling in enemy territory, and they’d be a
target. I have something else in mind…with your permission.”

“Do what you must, Orgoth. I
trust your judgment.”

“Thank you, my brother.”

Kaelesh said his farewells and
sat brooding for a few moments. He did, in fact, trust his brother, although
his methods were sometimes more extreme than was strictly necessary. But he had
stopped short of saying so, thought it best to let Orgoth do as he saw fit. If
nothing else, he felt certain the book would soon be back in their hands.

The companions continued to
work their way across the plains of Dalusia, doing all they could to keep out
of sight. If they were being followed—and none of them were foolhardy enough to
assume they weren’t—they saw no outward sign of it. The few locals they stumbled
across tended to pass with averted eyes and shambling gaits, keeping to
themselves and to their own apparent misery. It wasn’t just the war that
afflicted them, as the land itself was more brown and barren than green, and
the crops that they managed to grow were stunted and unhealthy. The travelers
had food enough to sustain them for a time yet, if they were careful with what
they had and took some small game when they could, although the animals were
mostly skin and bone, having little to eat themselves. Despite the knowledge
that Dalusia was enemy territory, they couldn’t bring themselves to steal from
the meager yield of the fields, knowing the citizens were facing bleak enough
prospects for surviving the winter and not wanting to make the situation worse.

The days had grown miserably
hot, and the nights weren’t much better, and the plains offered little relief
from the sun while they marched. They had increased the intensity of their
watch, further detracting from their sleep. They were sweaty and dirty and
tired and hungry, and marched in brooding silence more and more, each wanting
to hold their tongues as they grew more irritable.

One evening they came across a
farm that appeared to be long abandoned, and debated staying the night. On one
hand it would provide a more easily watched camp, but it was still early, and
even though the night still promised to be another sweltering one they usually
traveled until close to midnight to get as much relief as they could from the
sun. Adrianna and Barlow, to no one’s surprise, found themselves on opposite
sides of what soon became an argument, one that was settled only when Luke
delicately pointed out that he had entered the home and found that it held the
heat of the day so well that they would likely be unable to find any rest
inside. They moved on, Barlow with a smirk at winning this latest joust,
Adrianna taking up the rear with a scowl.

They were several hours beyond
the farm when a sudden gust of wind hit them from the west. At first, it was a
pleasant relief, but then they saw the line of black clouds rolling across the
formerly clear, starlit sky. Storms on the plains moved quickly and could be
severe, and the companions looked about in vain for some type of shelter. They
found none, and the gale was swiftly upon them. While lightning flashed and
thunder rumbled overhead, a heavy rain started to fall, the fat drops driven by
the screaming wind.

The travelers tried to fight
it for a few minutes, leaning into the wind to press forward while they held
their cloaks about themselves, hoping to somehow avoid being drenched by the
rain. It was a battle they had no chance to win. In minutes they were
thoroughly soaked, and they simply huddled together, waiting for the wind to
settle and the worst of the storm to pass.

“Lovely weather,” Adrianna
stated to no one in particular, but clearly meaning the jibe for Barlow.

“Surprised it doesn’t melt
you,” Barlow retorted.

“Amusing, as always. Why don’t
you call to that God of yours to stop the rain? Afraid He won’t answer?”

“He would if it was His will. But
why should I bother? Why don’t you just use some of that demon magic of yours?”

To Barlow’s surprise, Adrianna
moved away a few feet and cast a spell. When she was finished, an invisible
curved barrier stopped the rain in a small area above her head. The rain that
hit the shield rolled down and slid off, and from Adrianna’s viewpoint
underneath it looked like a dome-shaped window was over her. “Should be enough
room under here for all of us,” she offered. “Then I can bring it down to keep
out the wind as well.”

“I don’t need your charity,”
Barlow sniffed.

Luke looked from Adrianna to
Barlow, then at Darius and Silas, who both seemed torn. “Well, I'm no idiot,”
he said. He bounded under the small magic shelter.

Adrianna smiled at Luke, then
glared at the others. “I expected Barlow to be too stupid to come in out of the
rain. I was hoping for more from you two.”

Silas sighed. “Adrianna, we’re
already soaked. Stop wasting your energy. We might have need of it for more
important things.”

“Hear that, old man?” she
asked. “Your friend can see my usefulness. He’s not blinded by prejudice like
you are.”

“He’s a very forgiving and
optimistic individual,” Barlow answered, “always thinking the best even of the
most wretched creatures.”

Darius took two steps toward
Adrianna, but just as the smile on her face started to grow, thinking he was
taking advantage of the shelter and therefore siding with her, he stopped. He
had placed himself directly between the two of them. “Stop it,” he said,
looking first at Adrianna. He turned to Barlow and added, “Both of you.”

Barlow and Adrianna both
started to proclaim themselves the victims in this case, but Darius said all
the louder, “Stop it!”

The anger in his tone and the
sudden fire in his eyes had the desired effect. He had their full attention and
their silence. “Let me ask you something,” he continued, almost needing to
shout to be heard above the din of the storm. “If whoever, or whatever, is
after this book sees the way we’re acting, would it please him?” He met their
eyes, one at a time, and both paladin and sorceress were forced to look away. “I
don’t understand what it is in your past that makes you dislike each other so,
and I really don’t care. You don’t need to be friends, but if we’re going to
succeed, we need to do it together. If we’re going to fight each other, the
enemy’s already halfway to victory. So if you want to help—and I want your
help, both of you—then this needs to stop. If you can’t do that, then go home.”
With one last hard stare, Darius walked away.

Luke was the first to move,
catching his brother and mumbling, “Nice speech. Too bad I’ve gotta get soaked
now.”

“You’re all wet anyway.”

“Literally, you mean.” After a
pause, he added, “Right?”

Darius, his heart still racing
from the lecture he had delivered, was finally able to force a weak smile.

Silas caught them next and
clapped Darius on the shoulder. “Well done, my friend. I’d given up on stopping
the fighting. You’ll make a fine leader for our group.”

Darius’ eyebrows shot up. “Leader?
I’m not the leader.”

“You have the book. And if
none of us had followed, would you have gone home yourself, or continued on?”

Darius could think of no way
to refute which choice they all knew he would make—had already made, actually. “Still
doesn’t make me the leader.”

“As you wish,” Silas said. “But
we’re following you.”

“Or at least trying to,” Luke
amended. “Wind still seems to working for the bad guys.”

Darius ignored his brother and
glanced at Silas. “Who’s following?”

Silas glance back quickly and
then smiled at the young man. “All of us.”

*

The storm had changed the
atmosphere in more ways than one. It ushered in a period of cooler weather,
making travel during the day bearable and sleeping at night comfortable, but
more important it had triggered the events that now allowed the party,
specifically Adrianna and Barlow, to at least maintain the appearance of
getting along. Adrianna, rather than complaining about being caught in the
storm, had noted how the rain had washed away the accumulated sweat and grime
of the journey, and Barlow had bit off the barb that sprang unbidden to his
lips—something about how it had done little to improve Adrianna’s bedraggled
appearance—and instead made the crack about himself with a laugh. There was still
an underlying tension there, but Darius was happy with the effort they were
making. Silas and Luke were clearly grateful for it as well.

The one thing the storm didn’t
help was the land. They had each held out some hope that the lifelessness of
the plains was simply the result of an extended summer dry spell, but the
deluge of rain and the days of sunshine that followed had brought on none of
the tell-tale greening that might indicate the start of a recovery. Even in
enemy territory, the blight that was taking the land pressed on them like a
weight, trying to steal any joy or hope that might wander into their thoughts.

That night a gibbous moon
peeked out from behind the scattered clouds that, driven by a cool breeze,
danced across the sky. They took their time at a late supper, small and not
very filling, but somehow lingering over what they did have made it better. They
had had a good march that day, the flat land and the scarcity of crops and
people leaving them unhindered. They had just started to plan the watch when
Luke stood up and pointed to the east. “What’s that?”

In the distance, an orange
flame was visible. As they watched it appeared to divide, what they at first
thought of as one light actually closer to a dozen.

“Campfires?” Darius asked. “A
small detachment heading to or back from the war?”

“Maybe,” Silas said, but his
tone indicated he did not think it to be the case.

After a few more seconds,
Adrianna stated what they all were seeing. “Whatever they are, they’re coming
this way.”

“Help me put out the fire,”
Darius said to Luke. The Stoneman boys quickly extinguished the small blaze,
but the approaching objects did not slow or turn aside.

“Let’s get our things and move
off a bit,” Silas said. “If they were heading for the light of our fire,
perhaps they’ll miss us.”

As they grabbed their packs,
Darius leaned close to Silas. “You don’t think the fire is what is drawing
them, do you?” He tapped his own pack, in case Silas was missing his reference
to the Book of Dread.

“We’ll see,” was all the
cleric would say.

They took a path perpendicular
to the line of the approaching objects to their camp, and five minutes later
stopped to take stock of the situation. It was difficult to judge distance on
the open plain, more so at night, but it was clear now that the flames were
closer and that they were moving at a speed greater than the travelers could
hope to attain of foot. It also appeared the lights were still coming straight
at them.

“Best we find a spot to make a
stand and get ready to do so,” Darius said.

Silas concurred. “If we have
to fight, better to do so when we’re not winded. Doesn’t look like we can
outrun them anyway.”

Defensible ground was in short
supply in this part of Dalusia. The best they could manage was a cluster of
four trees that had a pair of decent-sized rocks jutting up from the ground
just outside of the rough square they formed. Without bows, Adrianna was the
only one who could launch a strike from any sort of distance, although they
still hoped whatever was approaching meant them no harm. She took up station
behind one of the rear trees and calmed her mind, ready to cast a quick spell
if it was needed, while the others took shelter where they could

“You seeing what I’m seeing?”
Silas asked Barlow, his voice tight with concern.

“Unfortunately, yes,” the
paladin replied. He pulled Gabriel an inch out of its scabbard, just enough to
confirm that it had taken on a soft white glow, then slid it back, not wanting
the light to give away his position.

The others all heard the
exchange and saw the glow of the sword. They steeled themselves while Silas
muttered a short prayer for himself and his friends.

The flames roared closer, the
fact that they were steeds of fire now apparent. Harder to make out were their
riders, cloaked figures hunched low over the necks of their fiery mounts.

The horses and riders were on
them suddenly and then past, but before the hidden companions could even hope
they would continue on, they turned back and circled the small band of
travelers. They spread out, surrounding the little copse of trees and making it
impossible for any of the companions to remain out of sight.

There was little doubt about
the origin of the horses. They seemed less horses ablaze than creatures of fire
that took the shape of horses, the flames constantly and subtly shifting their
outlines but not consuming them or their riders. The ground their hooves
touched hissed and spat, tendrils of black smoke wafting skyward. The riders
now revealed themselves to be spawn of the same fiery pit, casting aside their
cloaks in preparation for battle. Mottled gray-and-red skin, slick as if with
sweat, covered their muscular forms. Their faces were pulled into perpetual
frowns, sharp teeth, pointed ears, and short horns adding weight to their
gruesome visages. But it was their eyes that were the most unearthly, blazing
with the same orange fire of which the horses were composed. Looking into those
eyes, one could be convinced they were peering into hell itself.

The demon riders continued to
circle in a slow trot, gauging their enemies. Several had bows, and started to
fire arrows as their targets tried to dance around and use the rocks in a
futile attempt at cover. The arrows were aflame once launched, blazing trails
through the darkness that made their paths easy to follow. The demons never
paused to light the arrows, the fire bred of some dark magic.