Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (6 page)

 
The demand for iron and steel had made wealthy men of traders and
blacksmiths alike, as the call for arms and armor increased. Governors of the
various lands were under constant attack by the farmers and tradespeople in the
outlying areas for their lack of aid. The city dwellers were safe enough behind
their walls of wood and stone, but times were growing treacherous for all,
including the leaders of men walled within their homes. The slums of the cities
spawned their own evils, and as the populations grew with the displaced
villagers, the number of brigands and rogues multiplied to exploit the
newcomers. Brigands were banding together for safety, making the roads more
dangerous. The larger packs of lawless men were mounting more effective strikes
against the merchant caravans that carried wares between the cities and towns,
and the wild predators of the wood grew fat on the bodies of those who fell in
the resulting frequent raids. No one dared stay long enough to bury his or her
dead. The merchants found the only safety in movement and the only profit in
survival.

           
"I
tell you, Gregor, be cautious as you go. Silverwing must have you on a mission
of some great need to send you out alone. I hope your skill is up to the swords
you carry at your sides. Must be a very important trip you are making for
Silverwing to equip you with such fine blades." Dakin looked at him
intently, concern furrowing his brow. "You feeling okay, Gregor? You
aren't looking so good. Looks like the drink has the best of you, as a matter
of fact." Gregor was not feeling well at all. Dakin's words fell on deaf
ears, as Gregor slipped into the darkness that had been closing in at the edge
of his vision for some time.

***

Gregor opened his eyes slowly to find
nothing. Nothing so complete that even darkness was absent. He was aware of his
own existence in spite of the complete lack of anything else around him. Gregor
could only think that the drink, so sweet and burning at once, must have killed
him. The God of Light must have been taking his time deciding how to deal with
his monumental failure, holding him between the world he had left and the one
in which he would spend eternity. Mists began to coalesce in the nothingness
and the darkness became palpable. He felt pounding in his head the likes of
which he had never known. The burning that had recently warmed his throat and
belly suffused every part of his body. Gregor found his boots resting on a
shiny, inky surface that held his weight, though it appeared as glassy as the
smooth surface of an undisturbed lake.
  
Odd waves moved just below the surface, and flashes of crimson light
seemed to brighten random areas with no apparent pattern or purpose. He flexed
his legs to jump away from one that burst just under his feet, and found he
could not move.

           
"Do
not worry, Gregor. No harm will come to you here. You are my guest, and our
meeting has been too long delayed. I consider that an error on my part. It was
news to me that Lord Silverwing had taken a student. It seems his own failures
have taught him nothing." The figure speaking seemed to form from the
mists themselves as he emerged from the darkness. His appearance drew the
random flashes into a rough circle that served to light the cloaked figure as
he approached. A deep hood hid the face, and Gregor was both drawn to see the
figure's face and terrified that the hood might be pulled back to expose it.
"You see, it was intended that the last of the Golden Dragons should join
his brethren at the foot of your God. What pawns they were in a game they could
not possibly understand, yet he managed to undo all my careful plans! Lord
Galant Silverwing only managed to delay the inevitable, however, and you may
rest assured he will be dealt with when I am ready. The hunter has become the
hunted, and the Overseer has never failed to fulfill a contract. You are of
little consequence to me, though my associate has taken a keen interest in
something you possess."
 
The form moved
toward him with a rush, causing the robes he wore to flutter as if some great
wind blew from nowhere. A clawed hand, roughly human but covered in shimmering
scales that reflected the bloody light from the floor, emerged with the palm up
as if seeking an offering or some kind. "You could give me that blade and
perhaps you would no longer be of any interest to me at all. You might even be
allowed to live. Come, farm boy, and give me the blade. You have only to desire
to do so and I will take this weight from you. It is such a terrible curse you
bear, and knowing you are powerless must make it all the worse for you."

           
Gregor
answered with a single thought, though his lips refused to give voice to the
word in his mind. "No."

           
The
burning in every part of Gregor's body intensified as the tormentor's hand
withdrew into the folds of his robe.
 
"You will suffer greatly. The limits of my imagination will be
tested with the tortures I will devise for your impudence. I can assure you,
there are no limits to the pain I can bestow. Rest well for now, Gregor, knowing
I will not come for you until
your
Master begs for
mercy at my feet. Your mentor will be ready to greet you when at last I see fit
to release you with death. Rest while you can." The nothingness returned
and Gregor trembled.

***

A reassuringly familiar voice brought
him from his stupor, and light flooded his eyes. "Gregor, wake up! Oh my Goddess,
what have I done? Gregor, please wake up! Master Silverwing is going to kill me
if you don't wake up. Oh, thank the Goddess, you are breathing! Easy, boy. Thank
all the heavens! You were out cold, and then you were thrashing about. You went
dead still, and you stopped breathing and I thought you were dead for sure!
Pumped your chest like a bellows, but you never moved. You okay? Speak to me,
boy, please speak to me, Gregor!"

           
"Stop
shouting at me." Gregor thought his head would crack with the racket Dakin
was making. He felt like a bull had kicked him square in the face and stomped
on him for good measure. Every muscle sang its own caterwauling fury, and he
couldn't move at all for several moments. The light through the window of
Dakin's home told him it was still early morning, but Gregor thought it would
take a bit of time before he was ready to get moving again. "It was just a
dream. The drink, I guess."

           
"That
must have been a dream straight out of the hells to warm you like that. You
were burning up when I touched you. Here, drink this." Dakin held out a
wooden cup, but Gregor was hesitant. "No, don't worry. No more of the hair
of that dog. That dog bit you good. Just some spring water and bitter herbs.
Tastes terrible but it will make you feel better. Let me get you some breakfast
if you have the stomach for it. Need to get your strength back after that
fever. Never seen anything like that." Dakin mumbled to himself, while
assembling the meal. "You have really got to stay away from the spirits.
They definitely take you."

           
Gregor
tentatively sipped at the bitter water, and found it at least made his stomach
stop burning. "You don't have to worry about that, Dakin. No, you don't
have to worry about that at all!" The refreshing spring water brought him
back to himself sooner that Gregor would have imagined possible. The sizzling
boar meat gave him a hunger in no time, and it wasn't too much longer before he
began turning over the events of his dream, if it was a dream. Gregor held on
to the remnants that were trying to flee from his mind as much as he could, and
what he remembered scared him. He doubted seriously it was a dream at all.
Someone was after him and Master Silverwing. Gregor somehow knew they were
after much more, as well.
 

***

           
Gregor
was enjoying the scent of the greenery since he had left Dakin. Knowledge
brought as much comfort to the warrior as experience, and Gregor had learned a
great deal of the woods while in Dakin's company. The hunter had taken time to
tell him what plants and berries would aid the warrior if he caught fever
again, or ran out of provisions before another hunter happened upon him. He
smiled to himself, thinking the huntsman was probably enjoying the bounty of
the wood again since Gregor had departed. The weather at least was favoring
him, and he had made good progress since leaving Dakin.

           
His
host had packed a bag of dried meats and more of the bitter plants for Gregor
before allowing him to go, saying it was the least he could do. "Loud as
you are in that armor, I doubt you will find much game," Dakin had chided
him when the hunter had sent him on his way. "Rest easy in your travels,
Gregor. Master Silverwing is well thought of among the guardians of the woods,
and as deep as your path seems to be taking you, they will probably be all you
encounter until you make a road. The wolves shouldn't trouble you as long as
you set a fire at night." Gregor had been glad for all the wisdom Dakin
had shared.

***

           
The
howls at night didn't trouble him nearly as much as the remnants of the dream
the drink had brought. The visitor had wanted the broken blade Gregor carried
with him. Gregor could not fathom why unless the figure was somehow in league
with the demon that had destroyed the Knights of Bella Grey. What kind of
person would have dealings with a demon? Gregor wished Silverwing were present
now. The visitation, which is how he had come to think of it, once more
answered none of the questions that plagued him. It only brought more
questions. All he could do is make his way to the city of Nactium and find the
Temple of Light as instructed.

           
The
travel was made easier as Gregor followed the deer tracks, and he managed to
keep a steady pace. There would be no hint of civilization for several days to
come. Peace won out over the worries that Gregor had felt weighing him down,
and he became more certain with each day that the God of Light was watching
over him. He came to the bank of a great river that neatly broke his intended
path. The armor Gregor wore made swimming across impossible, even if he had
known how to swim. "Well, this is not supposed to be here. I must have
gone off course somewhere, otherwise I am sure Master Silverwing would have
mentioned this river." Gregor noted that the river seemed to bend in the
rough direction he intended to travel, though what lay beyond the curve of the
waters was obscured by trees huddling close to the banks. "Nothing to do
but look for a bridge or shallows in that direction, I suppose." Gregor
set off down the smooth bank along the river, trusting that he had made the
right decision. The path fate had chosen for him would prove eventful very
soon.

***

           
There
was trouble ahead. Gregor heard it long before he saw anything. He had been
traveling along the river for the second day, still having no luck finding a
place to cross, but glad to have the smooth path near the water's edge.
Somewhere ahead he could hear the angry howling of a large number of wolves.
 
A coarse, vulgar language that sounded
completely alien to him answered the pack's throaty growling. Great shouts and
cries of pain that were almost human grew in volume as Gregor ran alongside the
river. Barking howls and yips filled the air to accompany the strange
caterwauling. Gregor drew up abruptly to watch a curious melee that was taking
place on an open area of grass near the river's opposite edge. Small, dark
green and brown humanoids bearing long sticks tipped with yellowish bone shards
were fending off a large pack of wolves. The beasts ran into the loose circle
of poorly armed humanoids, attacking with vicious efficiency. Gregor could see
no reason to fear either the wolves or the goblins from where he stood on the
safety of the opposite bank, and moved closer for a better look. None of the
participants took any notice of his arrival, so focused were they on their
opponents' destruction. Gregor noticed almost immediately that the goblins
seemed to be particularly intent upon protecting one of their number that
jumped and screeched from the center of the circle. This individual was
distinctive because, unlike the others, it wielded a short crude sword and
carried a hide shield. There was a wolf's skull fastened to its head with what
appeared to be straps formed of hide, and it was clothed in makeshift hide
armor as well. The center of the circle was littered with several bodies, both
of slain wolves and goblins.

           
The
wolves also seemed to be guided by leaders of their own kind. Two larger wolves,
one with an auburn cast to its fur and the other with a gray coat that blended
to white, moved around the ring of goblins at opposite sides of the circle
formed by the wolves.
 
A growl or bark
from one or both of them signaled a few wolves to break away from encircling
the humanoids.
 
Their intention was
obvious as the wolves broke the ranks of the yelling goblins, with one of the
wolves always angling its charge toward the goblin leader. This fact had not
gone unnoticed by the shield-bearing leader, either. The largest concentration
of the dead wolves lay at his feet. Still, despite his apparent success, the
circle was growing tighter as the goblin force weakened with each attack.
Gregor found he was hoping the wolves would kill the goblin leader.