The Sorcerer's Scourge (16 page)

Landrin spun and neatly slit the throat of the man that stabbed him in the back then grabbed the wrist of the sword-wielder and kicked him in the stomach hard enough to launch him ten feet and take down two of his friends standing behind him. Most of the men that joined the fight simply for the sport of it backed out once they realized how incredibly lethal this lord was. Of the few that remained, almost all wore the silver skull pin.

In little more than a minute, Landrin faced only three men who now looked very reluctant to press their attack. The vampire heard the whirring of a hurled blade as it cut through the air on its path to pierce the back of his neck or split his skull. Faster than the eye could track, he picked a component out of a pocket, spun towards the hurled missile, and cast a spell. The small hand axe came to an abrupt halt and hovered just three feet from his face. Landrin poured magical energy into his spell and the axe went from cold grey to orange then to white before melting into slag that sizzled and popped as the rivulets of molten steel rained down onto the filthy floor.

The man that hurled the axe could only look on while his face blanched ghostly white as he realized that this was no mere lordling. The man commanded powerful magic, and given how he fought, may very well be a demon of some kind.

“You look like a man of rank within your little organization,” Landrin stated as he took in the man’s weaponry and appearance.

The man was visibly sweating and he swallowed deeply so that he could force his words past the enormous lump in his throat. “Wh-who are you?”

“I am the laird of End’s Run and the man appointed to enforce the King’s law!” Landrin loudly declared, not just for the sake of the man he faced but also for everyone in the tavern. “What is your name?”

“Donnigan—m’lord.”

“You have three options, Donnigan. You can continue fighting me and die. You and your people can grab what few belongings you can carry and disappear forever,” Landrin paused for effect, “or you can work for me for an honest wage doing largely what you have been doing except within the boundaries of the law.”

Donnigan did not need to think long. He was a man of limited skills and imagination, but he was not stupid. When you chose a life like the one he had, leadership often changed hands, and for now, those hands belonged to this young, deadly lord.

“Aye, I’ll follow you, m’lord. Pay is pay as far I’m concerned,” Donnigan declared, vigorously nodding his head.

“Excellent. Until Lieutenant Oliver arrives with the King’s soldiers, you will be in charge of my local militia, and no, you are not being conscripted into the army. Throw your pin into the fire. Any man I see wearing one after tonight I will personally execute.” Landrin turned back to the three men who still stood several paces away, loosely holding their weapons. “What about you three? The same three options stand for you as well.”

The trio looked at each other for a moment then stepped forward and cast their pins into the fire.

“Your first duty is to inform the remaining members of your band of the same three conditions. Remember, you are no longer thugs. You are what passes for the lawful authority here and you will conduct yourselves as such. There will be no thievery or taking of liberties. Any man that wishes to join and receive steady pay only needs find me and I shall enter his name in the rolls.”

Landrin opened the pack he had set on the floor next to the fireplace and gave each of the four men their initial pay. Several more men came forward and requested to become part of his constabulary. He entered their names onto a piece of parchment and gave them the same instructions as Donnigan and the other men. As the tavern got over the excitement and no one else came forward to sign up for the militia, Landrin found the half-man counting out a few copper coins.

“You, half-man.”

“Milord?” the little man responded nervously.

“Is this what you do for coin, let men toss you around for sport?”

“At times. Other times I do little dances, tumble, or whatever will get me enough to eat,” he responded.

“What is your name?” Landrin asked.

“Willard, milord, but most folks just call me Fetch because I often run errands and fetch things for them.”

“Do you care for the name?”

Fetch shrugged his shoulders. “It’s as good as any I suppose.”

“I require a valet. One that knows the importance of discretion and whose loyalty is without question. Would you be that man?”

“A chance at living with some dignity? Aye, I’ll be that man. You can kill half the damn town and I won’t say word. Not that many would notice or call it a loss if you did,” Fetch replied with a disgusted look at the tavern patrons.

“You will not likely need to keep such gruesome secrets as that, but it is good to know you would be willing to do so. You seem like a clever fellow. How is it you came to be here and debasing yourself for a beggar’s wage?”

Fetch regaled Landrin with his tale as he followed him out of the noisy, smoky tavern and into the frigid night air.

“I came up during the early rush after folks learned there was gold practically lining the stream banks and growing out of the ground like carrots, or so the rumors said. Nearly died making the trip. The gold was a lot harder to get to than the rumors said, but I still found a good stake and was doing pretty well for myself. About a year later, some of the brigands started organizing and I lost my claim and all the gold I had pulled out of it. I couldn’t defend myself from most anyone, so I did what I had to do. There was no way I could make the trip south, so I started doing odd jobs and mostly what you saw in there to survive.”

Landrin and Fetch continued to talk as they walked to the northern edge of town, exited another unguarded gate, and then started up the slope of a hill. To Fetch’s credit, they had traveled nearly half a mile before he asked where they were headed.

“There is a bluff at the top of this hill where I plan to set up my new home,” Landrin answered.

“You plan on building a cabin tonight? There are rooms to be had in town, you know.”

Landrin smiled at the short man. “I have a spell that will aid in the construction of our new home. It was a gift from a friend.”

“I saw that bit of magic you cast in the tavern. Scary stuff that. Is that how you moved so fast?”

“Something like that,” Landrin replied.

“Do you have one that will make me taller, or least makes my limbs the same length?”

“I do not. Forgive me; I did not think how difficult this climb might be for you. Do you need to rest?”

“We stopping right up there?” Fetch asked and pointed to a plateau just a hundred yards further up the slope.

“Yes.”

Fetch took a deep breath. “I’ll make it.”

The unlikely pair reached the level area a few minutes later. Landrin let Fetch catch his breath before putting him back to work. He pulled four, fist-sized gems out of his pack and handed two of the them to Fetch.

“Walk out exactly two hundred feet. When you are in the correct spot, the gem will glow. Place it on the ground, turn ninety degrees to the west, walk another three hundred feet, and do the same thing.”

Fetch nodded and began pacing off the length while Landrin took his stone and did the same. The first stone he placed near to where he was standing and then paced off three hundred feet, walked in ever-widening circles until the stone glowed and set it down. He pulled a fifth stone out of his pack and went in search of the exact center of the rectangle created by the four cornerstones.

Fetched placed his second glowing gem on the ground just after Landrin found the correct spot for the center stone. He motioned for Fetch to join him outside the pattern. Landrin then pulled out the scroll Solarian had left him on the table and began to read. The gemstones flared even brighter and illuminated the nightscape like the rising of a miniature sun. It was all Landrin could do to keep his eyes cracked enough to continue reading.

The ground inside and around the pattern shook and buckled. The earth began rising and the sharp ridge of a roof burst from beneath the soil and snow like the dorsal fin of some gigantic fish. The dirt and gravel sloughed away as it rose, revealing the slate tiles beneath. The roof continued its ascent higher and higher, revealing thick, stone walls. High up the eastern wall, the stained glass Eye of Solarian practically glowed with an inner light.

“Whoa,” Fetch muttered in wonder then looked at Landrin. “And you can’t make my legs a foot longer?”

Landrin looked from the structure that resembled some cross between mansion and cathedral replete with surrounding wall to the half-man.

“It was a gift,” he said simply.

Fetch shrugged as if it did not matter much. “What now, Master Landrin?”

“We go inside and await the coming darkness.”

Fetched grunted. “Seems pretty dark now, but you’re the boss.”

CHAPTER
7

Maude entered Bishop Caalendor’s private chambers. The high-ranking cleric sat behind a desk covered in several thick tomes, scrolls, and pieces of parchment upon which it appeared he had been taking copious notes. The slightly portly cleric looked up as the warrior woman entered.

“Ah, Ms. Ballister. Thank you for answering my summons so quickly. There is a matter of some urgency I require you and your comrades to address.”

“I had expected to be released from this indentureship upon completing the King’s mission. Why are we still being held here in servitude?” Maude asked in a just less than demanding tone.

The bishop gave Maude a humorless smile. “Ms. Ballister, the King required you to retrieve Dundalor’s armor or acquire an artifact of similar power. You failed to do either of those things. The fact that you played a small part in keeping it from the hands of his enemies grants you a marginal success at best. Considering the fact that your service is in effect a stay of punishment for acts of criminal behavior, several of which warrant execution, I would consider myself rather fortunate were I you.”

Maude could argue the point, but the truth was he was right. It was not as though they were prisoners either. She and her motley band had been allowed to go out on a few personal expeditions over the relatively peaceful past year or so.

“Fine, what is it you require of us?” Maude asked dejectedly.

“As I am sure you are aware, there has been some very troubling reports of undead activity throughout much of the land over the past few years. The church has detected an ominous massing of power far to the north. We believe the relatively minor uprising has been used to keep our attention focused here in the southern regions. Effectively, I am a bit embarrassed to say. I need you and your band to travel to End’s Run as swiftly as possible, discover the source of this magical coalescence, and destroy it.”

Maude looked at the high cleric dubiously. “Doesn’t the church have an order to deal with exactly this sort of thing? Why send a bunch of misfits, as you have often referred to us, to deal with what sounds like a seriously powerful threat?”

“The nearest and most capable band of Solarian’s light has recently suffered significant losses. The others are spread out across the kingdom putting down and preventing further uprisings. It is true; I have likened your band to fools and even worse. However, they say the gods smile upon children and fools. Let us pray they continue to do so.”

“With such a vote of confidence, how could we fail?” Maude replied acerbically.

“I certainly pray you do succeed. Failure could mean disaster for this kingdom and likely others.”

“The north is a big place. How are we going to find whatever or whoever it is that is causing all the trouble?”