Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy (10 page)

Amelia nodded. “This isn’t supposed to be happening. The town was victorious against all intruders, including trolls. But somehow they’re losing. It can’t be happening!”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they lost,” commented Olag. “Did you see how many trolls there were? There weren’t enough elves in the village to fend off that many trolls.”

“What do you propose we do?” asked Harran.

Kazin canceled his image spell on the group and they appeared as themselves, except Zylor, who still had his amulet on. The mage gave Amelia a curious look. “Are you proposing we help the villagers?” As if in response, Amelia’s orb became a darker red.

Amelia consulted her orb for a moment and then looked up into the mage’s face. “It cannot be allowed to happen. The village is supposed to survive.”

“She must be toying with us,” muttered Olag. “She wants us to interfere and change history for her benefit.”

Amelia shook her head resolutely. “I don’t want you to, but the orb -.” She sighed. “We probably can’t do anything about it anyway.”

Kazin clenched his jaw and looked around at the companions. His gaze stopped on Zylor the elf. “How do you feel about a little free for all, Zylor?”

A slow evil grin spread across the elf’s lips and he drew his weapon. Instantly, he reappeared as himself and his grin widened. “Anytime you’re ready!”

Amelia stood up. “It’s probably too late. By the time we run back there, the village will be lost.”

“Who said anything about running?” asked Kazin. He stepped back a few paces and transformed himself into his dragon form. Then he lowered his wing. “Hop on. We’re going for a ride.”

In moments, he jumped into the air with the companions aboard. From the air, the village looked closer than they had expected. Below, they could see the village as flames erupted from several buildings.

“I’m going to land in the main courtyard,” said Kazin. “Everyone get off and stick together. Remember that trolls regenerate very quickly. They can reattach their arms and legs within seconds, so always try to decapitate them. That’s the only way to kill them short of magic. Merely stabbing them accomplishes nothing. I’ll cast a shield to protect you from any elven arrows and magic.”

“What for?” asked Amelia. “We’re helping them.”

“They don’t know that,” said Kazin. “As far as they’re concerned, we’re attacking them too.”

“Would you trust a bunch of strangers who entered the fray?” added Olag.

“Good point,” admitted Amelia.

“You’d better find cover until we’re finished,” put in Sherman. “I can even loan you my ring if you like.”

Amelia glared in the direction of the disembodied voice. “Speak for yourself, warrior. I can take care of myself!”

Kazin landed in the midst of the commotion and the companions hopped off. The elves, who were down to several heavily armed groups fending off the trolls, cried in dismay upon seeing the latest intruders. A bunch of assorted creatures accompanied by a dragon was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The elves prepared to flee for their lives. But what happened next caught everyone off guard. The earth suddenly trembled as an earthquake struck, causing many to lose their balance and fall down. It lasted only about twenty seconds, and no sooner had it subsided when a minotaur and dwarf charged into a group of trolls and hacked their way through them with such vehemence that they were lost from sight by flying body parts. A disembodied sword flanked one side and took care of any trolls who tried to circle around the minotaur and dwarf.

The elves took heart from the strange sight, and turned to continue their barrage of the approaching trolls. Their magic set some trolls on fire and stunned others to allow the elves armed with swords to finish them off. Many trolls wandered around with numerous arrows protruding from their flesh. All the arrows did was slow them down.

It was one of these trolls who had lost an arm from Zylor’s axe. It stooped down to pick up its severed limb and reattached it to attack the minotaur from behind. A well-placed arrow from Olag penetrated its eye and it cried out in pain. This alerted Zylor to its presence and he turned and sliced off its head in one smooth motion, his muscles rippling with the effort. He looked Olag’s way and gave a thankful nod. Olag immediately fired another arrow and it flew over Zylor’s shoulder, embedding itself in another troll’s eye. Zylor responded quickly and parted its head from its shoulders. He could thank the skink warrior later.

Kazin was back in his human form, having examined the option of remaining a dragon and then discarding the idea. The village was too concealed in the forest, and blasting enemies with his fiery breath would more than likely cause considerable damage to the village. Being a human mage would ultimately prove more beneficial. His magic was still powerful, and could be directed more accurately in such close quarters. He began casting lightning bolts into a different group of trolls who had some elves cornered between two buildings. As the trolls fell, the elves were able to fight their way back out into the open.

Amelia was dealing with a third group of trolls who were terrorizing some elves who were trying to stay out of the fight. There were two elves armed with swords at the doorway to a house and the elderly, women and children were huddled fearfully inside. The two elves fought desperately and were obviously tiring with the effort of keeping the trolls at bay. Amelia cast a ‘haste’ spell to improve their reaction time. They began to fare better and the trolls closest to them were bewildered with their renewed energy. Then Amelia created holes in front of the trolls just where they stepped, causing them to fall down. The elves pounced on them to slice off their heads. Two trolls spotted Amelia and headed her way, so she cast a wind spell, and they were forced to bend their bodies to push against the wind. Still they came on, so she magically created holes in the ground in front of them. The sudden lack of wind that was caused by the spell change caused them to lurch forward, and they promptly tripped and fell.

Kazin was impressed with Amelia’s magical skill, but came to her rescue by incinerating the trolls with his lightning magic.

By now the elves were pressing the remaining trolls back. The tide was beginning to turn.

Shilar was fighting with his guards near his remaining wagons. They were having a difficult time with another group of trolls. One of the wagons had been overturned and a white liquid had made the ground turn muddy. This made the battle difficult for both sides. Olag was firing arrows into the trolls as quickly as any elf, and Shilar gave the skink warrior a strange look. Sherman waded into the fray, satisfied that Zylor and Harran were doing alright on their own. With deftness and strength, he sliced through one troll after another, giving Shilar’s men the upper hand. They soon began going on the offensive, driving the trolls back.

Harran’s ice axe did some of the most spectacular damage, instantly freezing trolls where they stood as it swung past them. This enabled the elves to knock down the bodies and shatter them into thousands of tiny fragments.

Amelia caught Kazin’s attention. She pointed to her orb, which had lost its reddish tinge. “We did it!” she exclaimed. “History is back to normal!”

Kazin looked around. With the advantage clearly on the elves’ side, he rallied his companions and they quickly melted into the forest as quickly as they had come. As they left, a small earthquake shook the ground for about a minute.

The tremor was enough to trip up the remaining trolls, and the more dexterous elves pushed them back into a tight group in the courtyard. Any who tried to escape were hacked to pieces by angry villagers. The trolls were fighting desperately now, but the villagers were too angry with them for the damage they had caused and the lives they had taken. Not one was left standing. When the last troll had fallen, the villagers cheered in victory. They looked around for their rescuers in order to thank them, but none were to be found.

The unknown rescuers were celebrated in songs and tales told over generations, but soon the songs were altered and then forgotten, as fact became myth. The story was just too bizarre to be true. The only known lasting record of the event was captured in ‘The Adventures of Shilar, the Traveler’, whose adventures during his life in the Dragon Wars bordered on the mythical. Accompanying the documents was the sketch of a creature not seen since in the elven realm. It was considered a figment of Shilar’s imagination, and caused much debate about the truth of his stories. Ironically, it looked exactly like Olag.

Chapter 9

G
alado swiveled his head warily as the bandits surrounded him. His disheveled appearance made him look less capable with a sword than he was.

“Give us the sword, old man,” jeered one bandit. He was the biggest of the five, and obviously their leader. “We don’t want to hurt you.” He had been admiring Galado’s obsidian black sword.

“Yeah,” added another. “Leave the swordplay to the experts. What do you need such a sword for anyway?”

“And those boots are too good for you too,” said another.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself,” said the first one. “You’re outnumbered.”

“Back off!” growled Galado. He took a step toward one of them. At that instant, one of the other bandits lunged at Galado, but he easily sidestepped the attacker, sending him sprawling into one of his partners. He didn’t watch the outcome of that move as another bandit swung his sword at him. Galado parried and thrust the opponent backward.

“You’ve got good reflexes,” commented the big bandit. “But you don’t seem to understand you’re outnumbered. Come on, guys!” He lunged at Galado along with his entire crew.

Galado’s training and instincts took over. He parried several blows before seizing an opening and pierced one opponent in the chest. In the next motion, he pulled his sword back and parried another blow while sidestepping an attack from the side. A ball on a chain whistled past his head and smacked into the head of another attacker. That man went down like a sack of grain, but not before Galado’s sword pierced his chest.

Galado stumbled backward and fell as he tripped over his first victim, and it was fortunate he did, because the big bandit’s sword whistled by scant inches from where his head had been a moment ago. A glimpse of a ball and chain was enough to spur Galado into motion. He rolled aside just in time to avoid the spiked ball as it thudded into the ground beside him. In one smooth motion, Galado rolled to his feet and lunged at the fifth attacker, ducking under his axe and landing a solid thrust at the attacker’s side. The axe wielder collapsed as blood gushed from his side. His weapon fell from his lifeless fingers as he sagged to the ground with a grunt.

Galado parried a blow from the big bandit and then ducked as the spiked ball whistled past him again. Annoyed, he shoved the big bandit away from him and swung his sword at the ball and chain guy. The opponent ducked in such a way that only the blunt side of Galado’s sword struck him with a loud crack. But it was enough. The man’s skull shattered and he fell in a lifeless heap. Galado turned to face his last attacker.

“You killed my friends!” growled the bandit through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, Galado’s sword vibrated and glowed. Streaks of shadowy light shot from it directly into the bodies of the dead bandits. One of them slowly rose to his feet.

The big bandit was startled. Then he grinned. “I thought you were dead, Tim.” He turned to Galado. “As you can see, it’s not easy to kill us off,” he sneered. He lunged at Galado, but the experienced soldier parried and shoved him back again, his muscles rippling with the effort.

Then another bandit got to his knees, and then stood up.

“You too?” said the big bandit. “I thought for sure -,” his voice broke off as the others in his party all stood, one by one. Even the axe wielder with the gash in his side was standing. “I - I don’t understand,” said the big bandit uncertainly. His companions encircled him, and before he knew what was happening, they were upon him. There was nothing he could do to defend himself. They hacked into his body without mercy or concern and he soon lay in a broken heap, his blood watering the dry soil where he lay.

Galado was entranced by what he had just witnessed. Somehow, the light from his sword had revived these bandits. He looked uncertainly at these strange men.

“Fascinating,” said one of the bandits as he looked at his hand. “This body has more flexibility than my original body used to have. Too bad my skull is in such bad shape.”

“I can see better,” said another bandit. “I never knew the world could look so clear.”

“This body is overweight,” complained another one. “I’ll have to find a better one.”

“Me too,” said the fourth one. He was poking at the open wound in his side where the blood was clotted.

They all looked at Galado, who tensed.

“Where to, Boss?” said one.

“Boss?” repeated Galado.

“Sure,” said another one. “You saved us from that eternal hell back at the time-line crosswalk. We follow you now.”

Galado blinked in surprise. The insane grin spread across his face again. Without a word, he turned and walked in the direction he had originally been traveling. The four bandits looked at one another and shrugged. Then they ambled after him. The body of the dead gang leader was left for someone else to bury. One thing Galado had not noticed as he led the way was that his sword was a little lighter in colour than before.

It was already dark when Galado and his crew arrived at a small town. The bandit with the ripped open side was struggling to remain upright. A saloon was located at the edge of town and sounds from inside indicated that it was very busy that night. A man stumbled from the entrance and staggered away. He turned into a dark alley between the saloon and a closed leather shop, where he began to fumble with the clasp on his pants. His back was turned to the newcomers as he moved out of sight.

“Excuse me,” murmured the bandit with the torn side. He moved forward as quietly as he could toward the drunken man in the alley. A few moments after he vanished from sight, a struggle could be heard despite the noise from the saloon. Several minutes elapsed, and the group wondered what had happened. Then the drunken man emerged and staggered up to them.

Galado placed his hand on his sword, but the drunken man held up his hand. He opened his mouth and belched loudly. Then he tried again. “It’s O.K., Boss,” he slurred. “It’s only me.” He pointed back over his shoulder. “My last host still had one good arm, so I strangled this guy. I thought it would be a good way to keep all the body parts intact. This body should last me a while.”

“Good thinking,” said another bandit.

“I’ll get the next one,” said the ball and chain guy as he gingerly touched his crushed skull. “I can’t very well run around with a deformed skull without questions being asked.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the portly bandit. “You could always act stupid or something. You have a good excuse with that body.”

The ball and chain guy growled. “You have a body that will give you a good excuse to squeal once I’m finished with you.”

“Enough!” said Galado. They all looked at him. “Our first concern is to find a place for the night.” He looked around at them. “Let’s pool our resources and I’ll see what I can find.”

The others fumbled in their pockets for any loose change.

“We’re in luck!” exclaimed the drunken man. “This guy was loaded!” He held up a pouch of coins.

“Good,” said Galado. “We’ll secure some rooms with that. The rest of you should go and find some fresher bodies if you need them, or at least some clean clothes. You look like a bunch of bloody brigands - with emphasis on the ‘bloody’ part.”

The others looked down at their blood-stained clothes and agreed.

“Good idea,” said the portly brigand. He nodded toward the closed leather shop. “I think a quick shopping trip is in order.”

“Don’t take anything that could be traced back to the store,” admonished Galado. “Stick to things that are commonplace. Check clotheslines for suitable clothing. Used clothing will not attract nearly as much attention.”

“Right,” answered one bandit.

“We’ll meet back in front of the livery further down the street,” added Galado.

“Why not here?” asked one bandit.

“Because this place will probably be crawling with people,” said Galado. He pointed to the dark alley. “Someone is bound to find the body sooner or later.”

“Right, Boss,” said the ball and chain guy. “When I find my replacement, I’ll be sure to hide the body.”

Galado nodded. “Very good. See you in one hour.” He turned to go down the street with the drunken man in tow. The drunken man was tossing the bag of coins in the air and catching it again as he went, and managed to drop it on the third toss. As he stooped to pick it up, Galado shoved him down and took possession of the bag himself. “We need this!” he growled. He turned and stalked off angrily.

The drunken man struggled to his feet and brushed himself off. “Sorry, Boss!” He staggered hurriedly after Galado.

A couple of hours later, Galado and his team entered one of the two rooms that Galado had rented for the night. As he gazed around at the new bodies that his group had acquired, he deduced that their undead bodies needed no sleep. He himself was the only one who required rest. In hindsight, he realized that two rooms were not really required, but at the same time having two rooms for five men avoided suspicion.

“Tomorrow we head south and west,” said Galado. The men simply nodded. They needed no reasons to do what Galado wanted. He didn’t explain that was where his true body was, and that it drew him like some sort of magnet. It was only a matter of time before his true body would be killed and he would be thrust into the endless death of the time-line that he had escaped. It was up to him to prevent that death and jump back into his own body to complete his goal.

“We’ll have to move quickly,” continued Galado. “I realize I’m holding us back with my mortal body, but I expect to leave first thing in the morning as planned.”

The men nodded again.

Galado looked around at the men and scratched his head. “It’s going to be hard to tell you guys apart every time you take another body, so I’m going to number you and that’s how you are to report to me.” He pointed at the former ball and chain wielder. “You’re number One. It’s up to you to make sure the others are all present when we move out.”

Number One nodded.

“You’re number Two,” pointed Galado. “And you’re Three and Four.”

The men nodded again.

“It’s time I got some sleep,” concluded Galado. “If you’re planning to make any noise, go into the second room I rented. One, you take first watch.”

“Right,” said One.

The men all got up and left the room.

Galado lay back on the bed and sighed. His men didn’t have the difficulty he had. Their bodies had no spirits to content with. He had a live body with a remarkably resilient spirit who constantly fought for control. That spirit was supposed to have been left behind in the time-line, but something had gone wrong. Galado had felt it was something to do with the sword. There was a magical bond between the spirit of Sir Galado and the sword that prevented them from being separated. Unfortunately, killing this body like his team was doing was out of the question. To do so would instantly send his spirit back to the unending death of the time-line, simply because his take-over would have been a failure. There wouldn’t be an opportunity to take over another dead body like his team was doing. His spirit was not stored safely in the sword like the others were. The only safe jump for his spirit would be to jump into his true body when he prevented his own untimely death. That was his ultimate goal. Then the body he now possessed could be disposed of. Galado thought about the dilemma as he fell into a fitful sleep.

In the morning, he found his men in the next room playing cards. He sent One to get supplies - not a lot considering he was the only one who needed to eat or drink - and took the others to purchase some horses. They had just enough money to complete the deal. They could have killed the stable master, but everyone was on high alert with several murders being reported in the town.

At the stables, they were just getting ready as One came to them with the supplies. He was putting the supplies into his saddlebags when one of the villagers came up to him.

“Hey Ned! I was wondering where you were! You better get home quick. Your wife’s worried sick about you since you didn’t return home last night. Especially since the rash of deaths last night. One happened right outside the saloon where we were drinking last night!”

“Uh,” stammered One. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Tell my wife not to worry.”

The villager glanced at one of the other bandits and lowered his voice. “Since when do you hang out with Oscar?”

“It’s a long story,” muttered One.

The villager shrugged. “Well, I haven’t got time right now. You can tell me tonight after work - if your wife lets you out.”

One laughed nervously. “You got it,” he said to the retreating form of his host’s friend.

“We’d better get going,” urged Galado.

The group mounted their horses and rode calmly out of town.

A few hours later, they caught sight of a caravan heading in the same direction as they were. It was a coach with four mounted guards riding escort.

“Fancy caravan,” said Four.

“Must be rich,” added Three.

“If we needed more money,” said Two, “this would be the time and place to get it.”

“What do you think, Boss?” asked One.

Galado grinned wickedly. “Why not?”

As they neared, the security detail spotted them and stopped the caravan.

“Let me do the talking,” ordered Galado. He rode forward and nodded to the guards. “Greetings.”

The security guards did not respond.

“What, no voice?” asked Galado.

“Be on your way,” ordered one guard.

Galado turned to him and slowly rode up to him. In the meantime, his men moved into a surrounding formation. One moved to the front of the caravan near the coach driver.

“I suggest you stand down,” said Galado calmly.

“What seems to be the problem?” said an older voice from the coach.

The guard in front of Galado turned back to the coach to respond. “There are some -.” His voice broke off as Galado’s sword penetrated his chest. In apparent slow motion, he fell lifeless from his horse to the ground.

The other guards looked to see their comrade on the ground, and Galado’s men responded in that instant, attacking with silent ferocity. The guards were well trained, however, and fell into their role quickly. One of them came charging at Galado, but was no match for the skilled soldier. Galado parried one sword thrust and went on the offensive, easily stabbing his opponent. In the next instant, he dismounted and charged for the coach. One glance told him One had dispatched the coach driver and had seized control of the coach.