The Unwilling Apprentice (Book 2) (18 page)

Her face twisted in disbelief. "If we travel down there we will be trapped ourselves!" she exclaimed.

"Just do it!"

Ruth grimaced but nodded. They dove from the sky at the barrier and the hundreds of skeletons that surrounded it. The light grew weaker and smaller, and those inside crowded against one another as the space shriveled. Fred held tight to his staff and the stone at the end brightly glowed. He looked for a bare patch of earth and found one at the tip of the rock; the perfect spot. Fred wasn't sure what he was going to do on the ground except die, but he had a feeling the staff would know what to do.

Ruth eyes widened when she felt him loosen his grip on her hands. "What are you doing!"

"When I let go, you let go!" he called back.

They descended lower toward the crag. Fred readied his legs for the hard landing and his eyes watched the spot like a hawk watched its prey. The skeletons felt the heat of his light, and their red eyes turned and glared at the brilliance. Their mouths opened and they roared at the incoming intruders who were bent on interfering with their meal wrapped in the barrier. Fred saw his clear spot shrink, and released his hold. Ruth reluctantly followed and Fred dropped the ten yards to the ground. He landed hard, and in a moment the skeletons bore down on him.

Pat watched his insane idea from the dwindling safety of the barrier, and when Fred disappeared beneath the gnashing jaws and sharp fingers of the skeletons, she pounded her fists against the wall. "Fred!" she screamed. "Fred!"

The skeletons screamed with her as the brilliance of Fred's staff shot out of the pile of bones in shafts of stunning light. Those skeletons on top shrieked and scattered, while the ones beneath were engulfed by the light. Their bones disintegrated in the shimmering light and Pat saw Fred knelt down with his staff stabbed into the rock. He had both hands on the staff, and his head was bowed. When he looked up, his eyes were as blue as the crystal atop his staff. He stood, raised his staff in the air and pounded the bottom into the hole he'd created in the rock.

The earth was rocked by an earthquake, and those in the barrier fell to their butts except for Ned. He clutched onto his staff, and his old eyes looked on in wonder and fright at the boy who stood so tall and unafraid. The skeletons skittered back at the shaking earth, but the warriors of old soon steadied their courage and flung themselves at the boy. Fred's head snapped over to them and the stone atop the staff released a pulse of light that overwhelmed his attackers. The front line evaporated and those proceeding it were singed and their bones cracked beneath the heat.

The skeletons retreated off the rock, and Fred turned his attention to his comrades. He stepped toward them and his light created a barrier large enough to fit them all. It engulfed Ned's weakened one, and gave the old castor a chance to rest. "We need to hurry," Fred told them.

Pat cringed away from him; his voice was the same as that day by the Salaron River. This was the other Fred, the one who didn't know her. No one dared approach him, and he took the lead a yard ahead of them. This boy led them down the path, passed their fallen guards and out onto the plain. The group hurried through the field of death, and the skeleton army surrounded them on all sides. They gnashed their teeth and beat their swords against their shields. The bravest of the undead ran at the barrier and knocked their swords against the light.

The group had twenty miles of plain to cross. Fred winced at every pound and beating. His barrier weakened as Ned's had done. If the skeletons kept up their attack they wouldn't make five miles. More skeletons piled on, and Fred cried out and fell to one knee. Pat rushed to his side and put her hands on his shoulders. His breath came out in rasps and one of his hands clutched at his heart.

"What's wrong, Fred? What is it?" she asked him.

Fred turned his face up to her and caught her eyes. A smirk slipped onto his lips. "I know you. You are the one he likes." She didn't get to reply because the skeletons doubled their efforts and the barrier overhead flicked. Some dove into the earth and burrowed their way beneath the barrier. The shield developed a floor, but the entirety of the light dimmed from the effort. The companions danced and jumped away from the clawing skeletons beneath their feet. Far off they could see a small calvary of the undead on their rotted horses charging their barrier. Fred lifted his eyes and scowled at the roof. "I hoped this would last longer, but it seems we have no choice."

Fred climbed to his feet and Pat stepped back with her hands clutched against her chest. He closed his eyes and the stone atop the staff pulsed with life. The barrier around them lifted off the ground and all but Fred and Ned fell. The old castor stumbled toward the boy, and when he spoke his voice was one of panic. "Don't do this! The body may not handle the magic!"

Fred didn't listen. The stone engulfed them in its light and they were all blinded for a few seconds. When their vision returned the barrier was gone, and they all sat on the ground. It wasn't the desolate field of death, though, but the wild path through the valley. The companions glanced around and realized they were several miles from the undead, and a cry of joy went up from the guards.

Pat whipped her head to and fro, and her eyes fell on Ned beside a fallen form. She scrambled to her feet and rushed over to them to find it was Fred lying face-first on the ground, and Ned had one hand on the boy's shoulder. She slid down beside Fred and pressed her hand against his chest; he stilled breathed. "Is he asleep?" she asked Ned.

Ned sighed, and his face was ashen. "In a way. He's asleep, but he won't awaken."

Pat paled and gently flipped him over so his head rested in her lap. His eyes didn't open, and his breathing didn't change. She gently shook his shoulders. "Fred, can you hear me? Fred?"

Ned shook his head. "It's no use. He won't awaken by our power."

"Then what will wake him up?" she asked him.

"Time, and his own strength," was the reply.

"Pat! Fred!" someone cried out. Everyone glanced up and saw Ruth glide down among them. She made a crash landing by toppling head-over-heels a few times, but she righted herself and hurried over to her friends. The guards stumbled back, fearful of the gargoyle, but she ignored them. "How did you travel so far so quickly? One moment you were in the fields and the next I saw your light appear over here."

"Transportal. The ability to travel over great distances in a single moment," Ned explained to them. "It's a heavy spell on the mind and body."

"And that's why Fred won't awaken," Pat finished for him. Ned nodded.

Ruth looked around at the group and frowned. "Were there not two more with us?"

Everyone whipped their heads around, and Pat's eyes widened. "Where are Lord Sturgeon and Sir Percy?" Pat she them.

Though everyone was sure the pair had traveled with them into the woods, Percy and his father were no longer among them. Ned frowned and shook his head. "We haven't the time to look for them. The army will soon spill over the valley and find us if we don't hurry along." The darkening night also made it impossible to see far in front of them.

"We should leave him behind," the guard leader spoke up. "He's nothing but dead weight."

Pat snapped her head toward him and stomped up to the coward. She punched him in the face and he stumbled before his men caught him. "Show more respect. That dead weight just saved your skin."

"No arguments," Ned interrupted. He nodded toward Ruth. "And no arguments over her, either. We haven't time to be afraid of each other when the army fills us all with enough fear." A rough stretcher was lashed together for Fred and the group hurried on their way along the dark path.

CHAPTER 18

Though the group didn't know it, their vanished comrades weren't far off. The moment they knew they were safe from the skeletons the pair dove into the dark cover of the trees. Their path led them toward the hills along the southern end of the valley. Lord Sturgeon knew where their destination lay, but Percy had been tugged away from the others by his father.

"Is it wise to leave them, Father?" he asked his parent. They stumbled through the dark with only the cloudy night sky to guide them. "What if we meet with more of the undead?"

Sturgeon chuckled between wheezes; he wasn't accustomed to the exercise. "No harm will come to us, my son. He will be sure of that."

"No harm? We were nearly killed back there," Percy protested. "The only one who saved us was that boy."

Sturgeon smirked and shook his head. "I'm sure he would have intervened before long. Our deaths were not part of the plan."

"What plan, Father? Where are we going?"

"A little patience is worth more than all the gold in Tramadore's treasury, which may yet be our reward if we play our cards right," Sturgeon scolded. The pair clamored over rocks and through thickets, and after a grueling hour they reached the foothills of the mountains. The slope was steep, too steep to climb, and Sturgeon was irked by the apparent dead-end. "I'm sure he spoke of a trail along here..." the lord murmured.

Bidden by his words, a trail of round stone steps rose up from the earth of the mountain and created a stairway. The steps wound their way up to a flat area two hundred feet above where they stood. Beside each step appeared a small flame that floated in the air, allowing them to watch their step. Percy looked apprehensively to his father, who scowled at the steps. The lord ascended the stairs with his son behind him, and in a few minutes they peeked over the edge of the flat area.

It was a round steppe laid completely bare to the elements. A small fire lay at the far back against the mountain, and a figure in a white cloak with a hood sat facing them on the opposite side of the fire. The stranger's head was turned down so they couldn't see their face. In the firelight Percy noticed his father hesitate, but start forward with apprehensive steps. They stopped in front of the fire opposite the bent figure.

"I've seen your proof of power, and accept your offer. What must I do?" he asked the stranger.

The figure raised a pale, wrinkled hand and in their palm was a bright, blackened ring wrought from a dark stone. Their voice floated out from beneath the hood like a whisper on the wind filled with warnings of a storm brewing just over the horizon. The hairs on the back of Percy's neck raised. "Wear this and the army will be yours," the figure promised. Sturgeon slunk over to him and snatched the ring from his finger. The figure chuckled. "May your luck be as firm as your courage."

"Don't insult me, old man, or I may see to it that you don't see another night," Sturgeon shot back.

The figure raised their head high enough to reveal a single sky-blue eye. The eye rolled between Percy and Sturgeon, and the elder lord stumbled back. The depths of that eye showed a cold, merciless character. Someone you would meet and wish you would forget, but couldn't. "Threaten me again and I will show you an eternity of nightmares," the stranger whispered.

"M-my apologies," Sturgeon stuttered. The figure settled back into their relaxed position, and Sturgeon took hold of his son's arm. "Let's come away," he whispered to Percy.

Percy reluctantly followed. His curiosity was stronger than his fear and he wished to know more about this figure. Sturgeon hurried the boy down the stairs, and when the last of their feet touched earth at the bottom the stones, and their lights, disappeared. They were left in darkness but for the ring Sturgeon held. That gave off an eerie, dark glow, like a smoldering piece of coal in the middle of an otherwise dead fire.

Sturgeon held it between them and Percy looked with wide eyes on the stone. His eyes flitted up to the lord's face. "Father, what have you done?"

Sturgeon chuckled and slipped the ring over his finger; it was a perfect fit. "With this ring I have ensured our future. Come with me and I will show you."

The lord led his son back down to the valley path. Rather than follow the trail out of the wilderness Sturgeon turned in the direction of the horrors. Percy followed, and in good time they reached the edge of the scarred battlefield. The skeletons roamed the area, aimless and disoriented. Their prey was gone and they knew not where to go nor what to do.

Sturgeon stretched out his ringed hand toward the army. "You see that without a strong hand they cannot leave this graveyard. I will give them that strong hand." He held up the ring toward them, and the light brightened and pulsed. The creatures stopped and their red eyes looked to the humans. Percy stumbled back, fearful they would attack and devour them, but the light from the ring distorted and stretched into long tendrils. The tendrils thinned, broke apart into more of themselves, and wound their way into the undead army. Each tendril wrapped around a skeleton, and the undead turned to mist that was consumed by the tendril until every skeleton was gone. The tendrils retreated back into the ring and Sturgeon cradled the trinket against his chest. "You see, Percy? This will be our army to man the gates of Tramadore, and I will set myself on the throne that you will in time rule," Sturgeon told his son. He chuckled. "The boy was a reliable bellwether for change when he sat in that chair, but he won't be the one to bring it about. Our family will be the ones to lead the change, starting with Tramadore."