Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (4 page)

His senses heightened, Darius
wished the insects which had emerged with falling night could be silenced. The
chirping and buzzing he found comforting when he slept under the stars was now
an annoying background noise. Ten steps, then twenty, then thirty, and Darius
wanted to relax, wanted to tell himself it had likely been a rabbit or a
squirrel, nothing unexpected and surely no cause for alarm.

A twig snapped, maybe twenty
feet behind him.

Darius’ fingers slid unbidden
around the hilt of his sword as he froze in place. The lane on which he
traveled—two dirt tracks where the carts had etched the ground from frequent
use—was bordered by cornstalks on his left that stood as high as his head, and
by a mix of trees, shrubs, and brush to his right, thick enough to hide a man
or a large animal, especially in the growing dark. He strained his eyes to look
ahead, but was unable to see a break in the cover that bordered his path where
a pursuer would have to stop or show themselves.

Starting forward again, he
found a decent-sized stone. In one swift motion, he stopped, grabbed it, then
wheeled and flung it into the woods, saying, “Go on, beat it,” in a voice just
below a shout. If it was some animal or possibly a lone thief hoping to catch a
traveler unaware, he hoped he might simply scare the source of the noise away.

He expected no outward
reaction and didn’t get one. He pressed ahead again, moving more swiftly now,
thinking that if he
was
being pursued that he’d take away his tracker’s
chance to move with any stealth. But the quicker pace made his own footfalls
louder, and his breathing soon grew audible as well.

The sounds of pursuit became
unmistakable—a heavy rustle of leaves, a broken branch, then even a grunt that
might have been pain.

Darius stopped, turned, and
steadied himself. His eyes searched the ever-darkening brush. He drew his
sword, appreciating the grating sound of the blade against the scabbard.

“I know you’re there,” he
said. "Might as well come out now.”

The only answer was the
endless buzz of the cicadas.

He picked up another stone, a
bigger one, and flung it blindly into the woods. A few seconds later, much to
his surprise, a smaller stone flew in his direction, just missing his left arm.

“Cripes, Darius, put down the
sword.”

“Luke?”

Another rock flew by, and then
Luke emerged from the darkness of the trees. “And enough with the stones. You’re
lucky you didn’t hit me, otherwise I would have actually tried to hit you, and
I had a good enough view to do it, too.”

Darius was too stunned to
speak. He put away his sword, and waited with hands on hips as his younger
brother approached.

“Well?” Luke said. “Are you
trying to catch flies with your mouth hung open like that?”

In another time and place,
Darius might have had to stifle a reflexive laugh, but not now. This errand was
no game. “What are you doing here? How long have you been following me?”

“Since you left.”

“You’ve been tailing me since
last night, and—”

Luke finished the thought for
him. “And you didn’t know until a few minutes ago. Thought that dumb dog was
gonna give me away with all that yelping. But it was falling night that did me
in. Figured I had to get closer not to lose you, though I thought I’d soon have
to let you know I was here. Afraid I’d sleep in too late and you’d be gone
tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, so now you’re here. Why?”

“I’m coming with you.”

Darius shook his head and
scowled. “Oh, no.”

“Don’t see that you have much
choice. I’m here.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re staying.”

“Two can do better than one,”
Luke reasoned. “One can watch while the other sleeps, stuff like that.”

“You don’t even know what I’m
doing.”

Luke let out a snort of a
laugh. “You don’t either, hauling that book around—”

“Lower your voice,” Darius
said in a sharp whisper, while a quick flash of anger flared in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Luke replied in a
quieter tone. “You’re not sure what to do with it. I heard you and Sasha
talking. Besides, I’ve already helped.”

“How has all this spying been
of help?”

“I put the book where you
could find it. Dad quit using the silo as a hiding place over a year ago.”

Darius, surprised again,
didn’t respond immediately, and Luke jumped at the chance to keep pressing his
case.

“You and Sasha figured it
right. She goes one way, the book another, and Mom and Dad don’t know anything
so they can’t let anything slip. Problem is,
I
know too much. I’m safer,
and so are you and Sasha, if I’m with you.”

Darius mulled it over. “I don’t
like it, and Mom and Dad will need you at the farm.”

“They’ll need to do without me
soon enough. The army men will come calling soon. Besides, this is a lot more
important than gathering crops.”

Darius started down the road
again, grumbling aloud, “C’mon then. It’s too late to send you back now anyway,
and I suppose I can’t order you home.”

“No, but I’ll call you
‘Captain’ if it would make you feel better.”

“Please don’t.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

Darius sighed heavily and
half-wished he had another rock.

Darius briefly considered
sneaking off when he woke the next morning, thinking maybe Luke would
eventually give up and go home, but he realized his brother’s reasoning was
sound, and if the King’s Guard came to the Stoneman home, none of them were
truly safe anywhere. He stretched his aching muscles and breathed deep the cool
morning air, allowing Luke a few extra minutes of rest. As the rising sun edged
toward the horizon, Darius decided it was time, and so he reached under the
bough of a large pine tree they had sheltered under and woke Luke.

Luke moaned softly and dragged
himself to his feet. A farm boy, he was used to getting up before the sun, but
he now understood how accustomed he had grown to sleeping in a bed.

Darius hid his smile behind
the piece of dried meat he was breakfasting on.

“Got any more of that?” Luke
asked.

“You didn’t bring any food?”
Darius replied with mock surprise.

“Didn’t have as much chance to
pack as you did. Just a few changes of clothes and a full water bottle.” Luke
held up the small pack he had used as a pillow.

Seeing that Luke, at least for
the moment, was being serious, Darius bestowed the remainder of the meat upon
him. “Let’s get moving,” he said as Luke devoured the meal in three swift
bites. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

After they had settled into a
good walking rhythm, Darius asked, “So why are you walking along with me?”

Luke sighed and rolled his
eyes. “I thought we went over this last night.”

“We’ll soon hit the Old Road. The
King’s Guard will be patrolling the highway, which is a good thing, because
there are a lot of people who are suffering with the war and all. And some of
those people are desperate enough that they’ll take whatever they need from
those that can’t defend themselves.” He patted his sword to show that he had no
intention of being targeted as such.

“Wow,” Luke said. “Coming on
kind of heavy, aren’t you Darius?”

Darius stopped and looked his
brother straight in the eye. “No more than I should. This is no joke, Luke. I
know you can handle it, I know you’re not a kid anymore. But we can’t laugh and
joke our way through this.”

Luke returned his brother’s
stare and understood how earnest he was. “Okay, Darius. I get it.”

“So back to my question. If
I’m stopped by the authorities, I’ve got my papers, my uniform, and I’m heading
back to the front. What’s your story?”

“I’m signing up for the army?”

“It works, but if you say it
to the wrong person, you might end up in the army.”

“That seems inevitable.”

“True, but I’d rather make
them come for you next year, when they’re supposed to. If we’re lucky, the
war’ll be over by then.”

“I’d fight,” Luke protested.

“I know,” Darius retorted,
just as sharply. “Quit changing the subject.”

“All right, all right.” Luke
thought a moment. “The Old Road runs to Anson’s Furnace, right?”

“Yes, and then on into
Westphalia.”

“So I’m heading to Anson’s
Furnace to stay with some distant relatives and to look for work. You’re going
along to make sure I get there in one piece, then you’ll rejoin your unit. That
would explain why you left a week or two before you had to. I doubt they’d
think you were so anxious to get back to the fighting.”

“Not bad,” Darius said as he
thought it over. “Actually, it’s quite good.”

Although they moved at a good
pace, it took longer than Darius expected to reach the Old Road. When it
finally appeared, the sun had already reached its zenith for the day. When the
brothers spotted the road, they both halted, eying it warily, as if it were suspected
of occasionally swallowing travelers up whole.

“Is it true what you said,”
Luke asked, “about bandits prowling the road?”

“Yeah,” Darius replied. “But a
lot wouldn’t bother with such as us. We clearly don’t have much, and I’m armed.
Most will look for easier marks, but the worse things get, the more desperate
people become.”

“I know things have been
tough, but we’ve made do. Is it really that bad?”

“For some. We’ve been lucky
around Old Bern. Things have been a lot worse elsewhere, famine and plague, and
then wherever the war goes…the armies don’t leave much behind when they move
on, just decimated landscapes littered with dead and wounded.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Luke said
with a sigh. “Well, I guess if we’re going to get where we’re going, we need to
keep moving.”

Darius knew it was time, but
still he hesitated. He wasn’t reconsidering his recent choices, but until now,
traveling in back country, he felt relatively sheltered and safe, and had he
wanted to lose the book and return home, it felt like a feasible option. Stepping
onto the road was stepping into the open, literally and figuratively, and he
sensed there was no turning back once he had done so.

“Darius?”

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing a
smile and sparing a glance at Luke. “Let’s go.”

The Old Road wasn’t the
longest or, despite its name, the oldest road in Corterra, but in happier times
it was the most traveled. The war had slowed trade within Longvale, and stopped
it completely with the kingdoms of Westphalia and Dalusia. The road was still
in good repair, the wild growth that lined several long stretches not having
encroached upon it, held at bay mainly by the wagons that hauled supplies to
the front. As such, travelers on horseback, or those on foot such as Darius and
Luke, could cover far more ground on the road than they could in the more
sheltered areas that framed it.

They passed two more days
under the summer sun and two more nights under the shelter of trees a few
hundred yards from the road. The weather was warm but not bad for July, and the
well-packed road kept their feet from kicking up the choking dust that could
make the days seem much longer. They had only encountered a dozen or so fellow
travelers, each keeping to the far side of the road, apparently as uneager for
contact as Darius and Luke. It was on the third day that hoof beats were
finally heard, closing on them from behind. Luke’s eyes grew wide and he
frantically searched for a place to run and hide.

Darius laid a hand on his arm.
“Relax. There’s nowhere to hide on this stretch of road, just open fields, and
we have a reason to be here. If our story was true, we needn’t hide from the
King’s Guard.”

“And if they’re thieves?” Luke
asked, but in a calm tone.

“Then we can’t outrun them if
they have horses, and we don’t have much to lose anyway.”

Darius wasn’t really sure
which he preferred, robbers or the king’s men. He prodded Luke to keep moving
along at the same measured pace, only occasional glances back giving away the
fact that the approaching riders were of any concern to him. After a time, he
told Luke, “They’re wearing Longvale colors. Soldiers or guards.”

As the horsemen neared, Darius
and Luke stepped off the road and waited. There were four, all armed, dressed
in the blue and yellow of the kingdom. As they neared the travelers the
shield-shaped emblems on their right breasts, indicating they were of the
King’s Guard, became apparent. They slowed to a trot and drew their weapons. Darius
knew better than to do the same.

One of the riders moved
forward. “Papers,” he commanded, holding out his hand toward Darius.

Darius pulled them from his
pack and presented them.

The man took so long with them
that Darius started to get nervous. He had a lean, hungry look, and whether he
was just a poor reader, a slow thinker, or was looking for something to be out
of place, Darius could not tell.

When he finished reading he
did not hand the orders back, but instead looked at Luke. “How old are you,
boy?”

“Seventeen, sir.”

Darius could see some of the
threat go out of the man at the show of respect. He wanted to hug Luke for
being bright enough to play to the man’s pride.

“Looking forward to joining up
next year?”

“Well, sir, I’ll do my duty,
just like my brother.”

The man eyed him for a second,
then nodded. “I’m sure you will.” He handed the papers back to Darius and rode
on, his men following.

Luke blew out a long breath as
they drew off. “That was fun.”

“You did great,” Darius told
him. “It’ll only get easier from now on,” he added, wishing saying it aloud
could make it true.

At dusk the first small town
they had encountered came into sight. Until now they had only seen residences
well back from the road, and the occasional inn or tavern. A serviceable side
road connected to the main road and led to the heart of the little hamlet. At
least forty buildings were clustered together, some homes but many places of
business, and the candles that had been lit in many of the windows gave the
place a welcoming aspect.

“Do we go in?” Luke asked.

“I think we should. Might even
find a bit of food and a place to spend the night.”

“What are we looking for, a
blacksmith, a locksmith, or a wizard?”

Darius looked gap-jawed at his
brother.

“I’m not Dad,” Luke said, “no
disrespect to him. But I doubt any normal skill will open that book.”

“I agree. The problem as I see
it is how do we find a wizard?”

“I was hoping, older and wiser
brother, that you had a plan for that.”

“Not a good one. There is a
lot of illegal trade these days, people will sell what they can to survive,
including information. I’m hoping in one of these little towns we can find
someone to get us in touch with someone that might be able to help us.”

Luke tilted his head back and
regarded the darkening sky. “Or we could try wishing on a star. That might
work, too.”

“I told you it wasn’t a good
plan,” Darius answered in an even tone. “Let me know when you’ve got a better
idea.”

“Will do,” Luke said. “In the
meantime, I hope your pack is full of money if you intend to buy information.”

“I have some, not much. But
information can come cheap after a few pints of ale. Listening doesn’t cost
anything.”

“Great. We’ll have the drunk
guys pointing us to the wizard. That book’ll be opened before we hit the sack.”

“Not if we stand here
yammering all night.” Darius turned off the Old Road and headed into the small town.

It was a place like many in
Corterra, a village that grew out of the collective need of a group of local
citizens to trade goods and services with each other and travelers on a busy
road. A small sign indicated the name of the place was Toryn. An inn and two
taverns served as the focal points of evening activities, and these were easily
identifiable from the noise that emanated from each, raised voices and laughter
and song. The shops had closed for the day, but most appeared to be in good
repair, and the lanterns that lit the main street gave the town a warm,
inviting glow. The only thing that seemed out of place was a building near one
of the inns, or rather a former building. As the brothers approached they could
see the place had burned down some time ago, and not only had it not been
rebuilt, there apparently had been little effort made to clean the area up. The
ruin was so out of character with the rest of the town that Darius and Luke
studied it more than they might have otherwise, and even in the fading light
Darius could make out what the place had been.

“A church,” he stated.

“Never saw one before,” Luke
said. “Guess I still haven’t.”

“I’ve seen a few, though more
often than not burned down, like this one. War does that.”

“This one wasn’t the war.”

Darius agreed. “Must’ve just
been an accident.”

The inn near the former church
was called the Roadside Rest, and they decided it was as promising as any other
nightspot. They entered, the smell of alcohol and burning tobacco and, more
promising, roasting meat, hitting them before they had crossed the threshold. The
innkeeper, a heavyset man in his early fifties with a bushy mustache, smiled
and asked if he could be of service.

“A bit of supper and two pints
would do us well,” Darius said.

The man showed them to one of
the few empty tables, a corner spot that gave them a good view of the room. The
eyes that fell upon them as they were escorted to their seats held looks
neither contemptuous nor questioning. Travelers were clearly common here.

The innkeeper was swift in his
work, and set bread, cheese, a generous slice of beef and two ales before them.
They ate slowly despite their hunger, enjoying the food, simple though it was,
and settling in to listen and watch, looking for clues as to who might be approached
for information.

Before
they had finished eating a man came at them, his wobbly gait telling them all
they needed to know about his current state. He smiled broadly and greeted them
as if they were old friends, then plopped down in one of the empty chairs at
their table, spilling some of his drink as he did so. He leaned in close,
speaking in a conspiratorial tone. “You boys look like you’re looking for
something. I can get it for you.”