Tranquil Fury (23 page)

Alron extended a hand to John, helped him out of the hole, “What does thou mean?”

 “I think your lands have been invaded. For some reason, it was probably easier to kill these poor souls. It would have taken too long, or cost too much to send them to a prison camp. I don’t know what or why, but they brought them out here to hide the evidence. If they had buried them closer to a village, others may have done what we did, and unearthed the truth.” John started to walk back to his pony.

 “Bury them, should we not,” asked Aaro?

“These few, or all of them?” John raised the shovel up to shoulder-height, panning it across the field. The others looked closer at the area, the uneven ground, mounds of dirt, feeding vultures. The grave most likely measured a thousand feet in length or more, with four or five trenches, “They all died a long time ago Aaro, and we really don’t have that much time. I want to see the next settlement, and get as far away from this place as possible.” As John headed back to the main group, he heard the remaining five follow him. Nobody looked back as they left, to see if any ghosts bid them farewell, and wished them to avenge their deaths.

Chapter 17

As they took to their mounts, everybody began asking questions. All John would say is, ‘I need time to think.’ They spurred their mounts northward into the fresh breeze, filling their lungs with clean air. The long grass slowed their ride, but they eventually came across a wide path, where the grass was flattened out, like thousands had been forced to make a road with only their feet. They picked up their speed, all anxious to find a warm, and secure place for the night.

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IT had watched from a tall dead tree. When the group headed north, it quickly advanced to the lead, and overtook them as IT raced ahead. Then, with powerful eyesight, IT spotted the threat.
Bad men. Danger. Too many. Ground, get to ground.
Several minutes later, IT landed, scampered down to the forest bottom, and examined the group of black clad soldiers in front of IT.
Wait. Closer. IT not like. Too many. Wait. Black and white? Make smell? Make more bad smell. IT like bad smell.

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It was getting late as the small group raced along the grass trail, where a large wood lot ahead in the distance. Alron was thinking they should spend the night in it, when he noticed Panry pointing, and was shocked to see four dozen black-clad men race out of the forest, waving their hands in the air. They were so far away, if Panry had not pointed out the activity, nobody else would have seen it.

Elf eyesight was legendary. There were some who thought that if an elf stood on the highest peak as the suns set, turned around, they would be able to see the first sun start to rise. It was an exaggeration, but not by much. Alron’s ears instinctively went forward, but with the wind and distance, it was too great, he could not determine the reason for their screaming. Panry and Alron quickly steered their stags into the long grass, and headed for the far side of the large forest. When obscured by the forest, he gave the lead to Aaro and Bor, told them to get the group to the next settlement. Panry and Alron started falling back, going wide of the obvious trail left by the seven, so if any followed, the two would do their best to discourage any interest they showed in the small party.  

The second sun had set when the seven arrived at the large abandoned town, though no streetlights offered any illumination to welcome them. It had two main streets, which intersected in the middle, each lined with a number of shops and residences, but not one had a light shining through the window. Aaro and Bor would not let the group wander, as they waited for Alron and Panry to rejoin them. John and Ryan had found a large water trough filled with stagnant water, and tried to wash the smell of death out of their clothes. An hour later, Alron and Panry arrived, advised that none had followed them.

In years past, both Aaro and Bor had visited this large community on a regular basis, usually accompanied by Gor. They would trade dwarf-made farm implements for various midlander goods: food, cloth, and such. As a result, the Ironhouse clan was well known, and liked by all of the midlanders, with the exception of the blacksmith. Their frequent visits always started and ended at the local inn and tavern, greeted as friends, especially when they brought dwarven ale for the various festivals. As Bor and Aaro entered the once lively tavern, they were greeted only by cobwebs and creaking floors. The dwarves and elves quickly went through the quiet structure, making sure that they were alone, before returning to the main hall. The dusty tables still had candles and lamps on them, and without thinking, Logan, wanting to push back the dark, grabbed one of the candles. As he turned around, a bright flame greeted the black room. Under his sleeves, the feather tattoos remained hidden to the rest of the group, but he could sense the red one. Others grabbed similar candles, and brought them to Logan, and slowly, the small army of candles grew in size, reducing the darkness to dancing shadows in the corners.

Aaro and Bor had considered the small inn, their home away from home, often lending a hand on busy nights, serving drinks, or keeping the crowd peaceful. Aaro knew where everything was behind the bar, including where the last keg of dwarven ale was supposed to be hidden. As Bor saw him bring it out, he rounded up a set of dusty mugs, looking for the mostly clean ones. 

Aaro set the keg on the table, and tasted its contents to make sure it had not spoiled. “News good and bad. Dwarf ale it is, warm, but ale. Better than water, well better than water warm.”

Lauren, quiet for too long spoke, “What the hell happened today? What did you find at that disgusting place? Who were those people running out of the woods?”

John heard the questions that lacked direction, looked at Alron, and hoped he would try to satisfy Lauren’s thirst for knowledge. John wanted some of that warm beer, hoping the liquid would kill the taste of death that still lingered in his mouth. Instead, Alron stepped back, embraced the silent shadows.

John asked Aaro for a mug of the warm beer, feeling the cold stare of Lauren as she waited for a reply. John took a mouthful, rinsed the dust and death out of his mouth, and spit the liquid to the floor, “The vultures were feeding on some sort of mass grave. I think there is a plague here, but it walks on two legs, it does not float in the air. We found two midlanders, and both had their heads cut off. There were others, wounds from swords could easily be seen.” John did not mention that they were children, “There was also a non-midlander that we exposed, dressed similar to the ones that attacked you at the healing well. That entire area was a huge grave, and there are probably thousands buried there. I would imagine all slaughtered without a chance to defend themselves.” John took another drink, and drained his mug, the stale taste of death still fresh in his mouth.

Lauren nodded, “This non-midlander, dressed in black? Was he part of this two legged plague you speak of?”

 “I can’t say for sure, but considering two similar attacked you without cause, I would guess so.”

Alron stepped forward, “Dressed the same, as in forest they does be.”

“How could you see them, they were miles away,” asked Lauren?

“Elf eyesight does be great. Clearly seen the black-clad I does, same as at healing well, naught doubt canst there be.” 

Lauren was unsure, “But they could be victims as well. Survivors, scared acting out of instinct, confused like the rest of us?”

John shrugged his shoulders, “It is possible, but these lands are void of midlanders, we have only seen those black-clad figures. They could be deserters, or something else. I just don’t know, but I am almost certain there is no plague.”

 “How can you be so sure John?”

 “Aaro, if the owner of this inn was going to leave on his own free will, beyond money and family, if he could only take one thing, what would that be?”

 “Dwarf ale!” exclaimed Aaro.

 “I agree, even warm, this is really good.” John held out his mug for a refill. As Aaro took the mug away, John looked to the ground, “I doubt if your friend still breathes. I agree, if he had the chance to leave, he would have surely taken that keg of gold with him.”

Alron signalled Panry to break out the food rations, “Then thine mission does be done friend John? Back to Ironhouse we does go?”

 “I would like to have a better look in this village first. Can we make that call tomorrow?” Alron nodded in agreement, hoping that they would be heading back to Ironhouse sooner than expected, though the news would be disturbing to all.

Ryan was looking at the floor, “All those people slaughtered. Why John?”

“Damn it, I wish I knew. I think part of the answer is back at the Ironhouse Mine, that sword and suit of armor. All that Lauren said that night. Rivers of blood, armies, screams of terror, blood lust. I don’t know how Eric is going to do it, or if he can. An invasion is the only thing that makes sense, and that sword and armor are here to stop it. How? I don’t know. But in this crazy mixed up magic-filled, science-absent world, I really don’t know how to apply logic. Something has happened, and something else is going to happen. When it’s all done, then I will try to explain it.”

Mirtza, shocked out of his quiet thoughts, looked at John, “The graves back there, all these people missing. Is that where I would find them?”

 “Most likely.”

 “John, my family, friends. Do they share the same fate?”

With Mirtza sitting towards the back, John had forgotten that he was in the room, “I don’t know. Many midlanders fled, your family and friends could have done the same. What you cannot explain…”

Hearing John repeat what he had said earlier, helped chase the doubts to the far corners of his mind. Just as he could not explain why the grasslands were not safe for the young ones, it was not fair to have John speculate on his family. All he could do was hope.

Lauren’s concern was obvious, “Well then, where are these armies? The people who killed those innocents?”

John finished the last of his drink, “That’s a good question, I have no idea. As of yesterday, all we had was a sword and armor destined for some battle. A few odd stories from the Bright Coast, and rumors of a plague. We really did not know anything. Today we are certain that somebody killed a great number of defenseless and innocent people, and that they tried to hide the evidence of their actions. Where are they now? Probably going after them, to finish what they started, or to make sure they don’t plan a counterattack. That would be the logical answer. Here, your guess is as good as mine.”

Lauren asked the question that was on everybody’s mind, “Then what do we do?”

“Let’s have a look around tomorrow, see if we can find any new evidence. Then we will head back to the Ironhouse Mine, and inform the Earth Mother of what we have found. They thought we were going to bring them the answers, well now we have some.”

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IT silently crept through the dark shadows, sniffing the air.
Many. Everywhere. Hunt fresh. IT like fresh. So much fresh.

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As the conversation had been taking place, Panry had put the large fireplace to good use, a warm fire now fighting back against the cold night. With the help of Bor, they had brought in the field rations, bed rolls and other possessions for the night.

It was an hour later when a small bat flew in the open door, landed on Mirtza shoulder, “Intruders, we are not alone.” Alron gave a quick glance to Mirtza, the question written on his face. Mirtza replied, “My bats do not lie. Something out there means us harm.”

The shock quickly registered on their faces, as Alron and Panry rushed to the door, swords drawn, followed by Aaro and Bor, with axes in hand. Alron stood in the doorway, staring into the night, his greatest nightmare about to be born from the darkness that surrounded him. Trapped, most likely outnumbered. In the forest, he was in his element, could use the trees to his advantage, blend in, even set traps. In these wooden canyons, the sounds bounced off the timber walls, made it impossible to locate opponents. Panry and Alron’s deer ears were twitching from left to right, trying to figure out where the attack would come from.

Alron turned to Panry, “Earth Daughter thou shalt protect. Her side thou does naught leave, “

 “Does let me fight Alron. Thou does know I does be better.”

 “That is why thou will protect Earth Daughter. Stay. Aaro, Bor. Guests does seek a welcome, dwarf hospitality would thou please extend.” Bor and Aaro had their war axes in hand, smiled, slipped through the door, and disappeared into the darkness. Alron turned to the five, “Earth Daughter, Panry will stay with thou, does as he does say. Others, stay close to Earth Daughter.” Then Alron went out to the front porch of the inn, to greet the cloudy dark night, absent of moon shadows.

It was a few seconds later, Logan came out and stood beside Alron. He had gone behind the bar and found a rusty sword, “Mind if I help?”

“Friend Logan, thine efforts does be noble, but thou wilt hinder me. Back inside thou should go.” From the far end of the town, they heard somebody scream in terror, followed by a beastly howl, “Back inside now,” Alron commanded!

Logan did not move, “Pretty dark out here, would some light help?”

 “Logan, thine games I does naught hath time for.” Alron was getting frustrated, his ears scanning the street, hearing too many sounds to determine what was happening.

His eyes, dark orbs, Logan shrugged his shoulders, “There still does be oil in street lamps. Let us see who does seek an invite.” With that, Logan cast his arms and hands out. Two lamps lit, then two more. Slowly, the wick of each neighboring lamp received a gift of fire, which pushed back the blackness from the street.