Marked (34 page)

Fortunately, unlike the hapless Gurkog and Kyjor, Lasgol had an ace up his sleeve that the two more experienced trackers had not had at their disposal against this extremely dangerous prey: his Gift and all the abilities that went with it. Lasgol had developed this rare Talent with his late father’s help over the course of many years. He had never understood why he, a normal, ordinary man, had been blessed with such a marvelous Gift that would allow him to do things other men could only dream of doing. He had always thought that Liara, the Frozen Kingdom’s Goddess of Luck, had made a mistake when she’d granted him that wonderful Gift, that it should have gone to someone better—someone with a higher purpose and destiny than he had in life. Someone really special. He had worked hard to become an expert explorer in service to the King and had succeeded due to years of focused training and, to a greater extent, his Gift. But he still felt that such a high honor was wasted on him chasing fugitives, assassins and the dregs of society, and watching over the King’s forests. It did not seem that he was doing work at the level of the talent that had been bestowed on him.

Undoubtedly the Ice Gods had been mistaken. He was sure of it. But today, that Gift would save his life and help him be victorious where his two fellow professionals had not. He gave thanks to the Goddess of Luck.

His faithful friend Trotter was slowly grazing, unaware of the dangerous predicament they were in. Lasgol decided to send him to investigate the situation so as to reduce the number of unknowns. He concentrated, recited the words of power, and a green light rushed through his body. His mind entered into contact with Trotter’s mind and in an instant, like a fleeting breath, Lasgol had given him the order to start moving—first to the north and then to the east to get to the top of the ravine.

Trotter immediately followed his commands.

But nothing unusual occurred as Trotter explored; the animal had not been frightened nor had it backed off, so Lasgol assumed his tireless friend had not sensed anyone’s presence. Unfortunately, his ability only allowed one-way communication toward the animal; there could be no exchange of information—or at least he still had not discovered a way to accomplish that. Developing the abilities the Gift conferred on him was an arduous, extremely difficult task, not just because of its complexity but because of his relative unfamiliarity with it. It required countless hours of enormous effort, almost always without immediate gain.

His eyes searched the area. Intently.

The Assassin must be on the right behind that hill, waiting for me. Very clever to leave the body there as a lure. If I go out there, I am at a clear disadvantage since he has the favorable position of elevation.

Lasgol crawled forward ever so slightly.

I will set a couple of traps in case he tries to come near me. I’ll have to draw him out, bring him closer to me. But if I get too close, he’ll take me by surprise and I’ll be done for.

From the small leather sack on his back he took out two folded traps he’d been carrying. He set the first one and recited the words of power that would activate his ability. There was a green flash over the trap, making it invisible to the human eye. No one except for him would be able to see it. He crawled forward three more steps and set the second one. Again he recited the words of power; another brief, green flash made the second trap disappear. With two steps back, he positioned himself between the two traps, took out his reinforced war bow and grabbed a handful of arrows from his quiver. From his belt hung a small bag and, spreading its contents on the sharp steel points, he murmured the words of power. The green flash covered the arrows.

Just in case my enemy has also used some kind of poison on his daggers, this will even the odds.
Now he just had to draw him out, which would not be easily accomplished.

Noticing how dry the grass around him was, he devised a scheme.

After a moment of preparation, Lasgol shot three fiery arrows flying over the area where he suspected the Assassin was waiting. As soon as they landed in the high undergrowth, a fire broke out.

Lasgol waited, at the ready. In just a few moments the fire had grown in intensity and the black smoke was beginning to thicken. The small hill was burning. The Assassin would have to move from there. He would not be able to remain hidden there much longer.

And he did not.

Like a black panther, a shadow began descending the hill. But he was descending at a rate that left Lasgol stunned.

He quickly aimed and took the shot, but the Assassin zigzagged at an inhuman rate of speed and the arrow missed him. Lasgol had never once missed from such a short distance. He reloaded and tensed the bowstring, but just when he was about to release it, the Assassin disappeared from where he had been an instant before, just a few paces away.

And he materialized right in front of him.

This cannot be!

The arrow left the bow in the same moment as Lasgol fell backwards, struck by a fearsome, unknown force that had come from the Assassin. He had no idea what had just hit him.

Lying on the ground, he looked up to see the Assassin coming down on him.

He was going to slit his throat.

But in his attempt to kill Lasgol, the sinister executioner stepped on the first trap. When the trap went off, it stunned and blinded the Assassin in an explosion of earth, smoke, and splintered wood.

Before the Assassin could recover, Lasgol quickly bent over and broke his bow over the Assassin’s head, then stood up and unsheathed the two short swords he was carrying on his sides.

He was prepared to face his enemy’s attack.

The Assassin, still half dazed and blinded, nonetheless attacked with a hellish ferocity, and Lasgol, in a defensive pose, blocked the strikes from the deadly black daggers. Then the Assassin mumbled something and a reddish light glowed all over his body.

Lasgol knew the enemy was invoking magic. It instantly resulted in a leap so swift and spectacular that Lasgol could barely believe his eyes. Fortunately, he managed to repeatedly block the lethal blades with his short swords, one attack after another, as if in a choreographed dance. A dance of death.

Seeing an opportunity, Lasgol returned a back hand the Assassin did not see coming and sliced into his arm. The ranger carefully retreated, stepping over the second trap, and waited,
on guard.

The Assassin attacked with a rapid-fire combination of blows that Lasgol knew he would not be able to block. But halfway through the attack the Assassin stepped on the second trap. Several sharp, steel stakes sprang out of the ground and into the Assassin’s feet. Screaming in agony, he deftly somersaulted backwards and crouched down on the ground.

“That trap did not just pierce your feet; the stakes were covered in a substance that will completely paralyze you within a few moments, keeping you from moving your lower extremities,” warned Lasgol.

Now on his knees, the Assassin—without saying so much as a word or making any gesture—invoked the use of his Gift once again. But Lasgol was ready. The moment two daggers shot into the air at an ungodly speed and with wicked precision, with the help of his Gift Lasgol deflected them with his two swords.

“Calm down. I am not going to kill you. I am in no hurry. Besides, you have my arrow stuck in your shoulder, and it is steeped in poison. So I’ll wait until it takes effect. I don’t want to take any chances.”

With a lightning-fast flick of his right arm, the Assassin threw a small knife that Lasgol could not dodge in time. Fortunately it struck his forearm which was protected by a leather and metal guard that the blade could not penetrate.

Damn it! That was close. He is too dangerous... I need my bow. These swords are only good for defending myself. It’s no good trying to attack with them.

He mentally connected with Trotter and summoned him then hurried to the saddlebags where his weapons were hanging and took the long bow. In the blink of an eye he’d nocked the arrow.

Now on his knees, the Assassin could no longer move his extremities. The poison was taking effect; he was barely able to remain conscious.

Lasgol had him.

He took aim.

“Don’t kill him! Please, don’t kill him!” shouted a female voice from the far side of the smoking hill.

Lasgol looked up and saw a beautiful Masig running toward him. Unarmed.

“Spare him his life, I beg of you!” she pleaded tearfully as she knelt before the fallen Assassin. “Don’t kill him! I’ll do whatever you ask of me, Norghanian. Just please don’t kill him!”

“I have no intention of killing him. Calm down.” Lasgol lowered his bow.

The Masig examined the Assassin, her face marked with worry.

“Is he dead? Did you kill him?” she sobbed.

“No, the poison has knocked him unconscious and the trap has paralyzed his legs. He will be like that for several hours—six to eight, I’d guess, based on his size. The arrow in his shoulder has not left a serious wound and his feet will be fine with a little rest and some bandages.”

The Masig seemed to have calmed down for the time being.

“Thank you... thank you for not killing him,” she said, her voice choking up.

“Who are you, and what are you doing with him?”

“My name is Iruki Wind of the Steppes. I belong to the Blue Clouds tribe. My tribe is camped to the east of the great sacred lake. We were heading there, to my tribe. He rescued me from the fortress when he went there to assassinate that disgusting pig who... who... brutally raped me. We’ve been traveling together since we escaped the Norghanians.”

“Grand Duke Orten raped you?” asked Lasgol with a mix of embarrassment and surprise.

Iruki’s face burned with rage. “Yes. That horrible swine beat me and violently raped me, and he paid for it with his life. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but that is exactly what happened. You can still see the marks on my face.”

Lasgol lowered his eyes. “I’d heard rumors about the Grand Dukes ‘activities’ and his weakness for women but I was hoping they were just that—rumors with no basis in truth. I can now see they were unfortunately true...”

“I was captured by one of the Grand Duke’s torture patrols when I was visiting my aunts and uncles. They took me to the fortress to serve as entertainment for that vile animal.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you. There is much evil in the blackened hearts of so many unscrupulous men. If I can help ease the pain that people in my lands have caused you, I will do whatever I can.”

Iruki gazed at him in shock.

“Thank you, Norghanian. I will remember your offer.”

“Tell me, Iruki, why did the Assassin help you all this time? It isn’t logical. He could have been safe days ago.”

“You’ll have to ask him that. I really don’t know. He helped me escape and then has continued to help me ever since. I don’t know the reason.”

“Interesting... Such strange behavior... Truly baffling,” murmured Lasgol.

“Now that I’ve answered your questions, can we please attend to him? His breathing is getting weaker.”

“All right. But before I do I need to tie him up. This man is extremely dangerous—the most dangerous man I have ever encountered—and I prefer not to meet with any unfortunate ‘accidents’
due to carelessness.”

Lasgol looked at the Assassin uneasily.
I do not like this at all. Not one bit.

Aliana, overcome with incredulity, was holding in her hand Haradin the Mage’s Staff of Power.
For the love of Mother Healer! I cannot believe it!
She examined every detail of it, trying not to be carried away by false hopes or her own eagerness.

But she was sure.

In triumph, she lifted it above her head and displayed it to her companions. They stared at it in disbelief.

This was the first reliable proof that the Mage had really stepped foot in that cave. During this entire fateful expedition, a deep anxiety, a sense of doubt born from the possibility of being wrong—even if it was well-intentioned—had been silently eating away at Aliana. If they were wrong, so many lives would have been lost in vain. That thought had been torturing her, consuming her like a malignant illness. But this object was irrefutable proof that they were on the Mage’s trail; they had not miscalculated. All those young, brave lives had not been needlessly wasted, and that thought filled Aliana with immeasurable joy.

“It’s Haradin’s Staff of Power!” she shouted to her friends, bursting into a fit of exultant laughter, finally able to release all the tension that had been accumulating over the course of the dreadful expedition.

“Are you sure?” said Gerart, moving in closer. He looked at Aliana, surprised by the Healer’s unexpected outburst.

Aliana quickly regained her composure as she studied the staff in her hand. “I am sure,” she affirmed. “I’ve seen it before. Haradin himself showed it to me, explaining to me in detail the reasons for some of the runes carved into the wood of the nearly extinct black oak. I have no doubt this is his staff.”

“That means we were right; the Mage was here,” said Gerart, his face reflecting the relief of someone who’s just had a great weight lifted from his shoulders. “Thanks be to the Light for guiding and protecting us! We were right!” He looked up in appreciation and made the sign of the Light.

Both Kendas and Lomar joined the Prince in giving thanks.

“I wouldn’t want to be the bird of bad omen, but the staff lying on the floor with a bunch of corpses doesn’t seem like a good sign,” said Lomar.

“I don’t know much about mages—nothing, actually—since I come from a small farming town, but I doubt he’d voluntarily give up a magical object as valuable as that,” reasoned Kendas as he scratched his chin. “Something bad must have happened to him.”

“Damned ignorant youth! You two are the worst soldiers I’ve had the misfortune to command in years! What ancient divinity must I have offended to have the terrible luck of always being saddled with soldiers with the dimmest minds in the kingdom? You men have brains the size of a flea! How quickly you arrive at conclusions, expounding like expert tacticians, deducing the enemy’s movements on the battlefield... Except that you actually have no idea what happened here!” barked Sergeant Mortuc, pointing accusingly at Kendas. “No one should be rushing to judgment here, or making gratuitous assessments. We don’t have enough information. We don’t know what happened so we have no reason to assume the worst. There are at least a thousand different ways this could have played out. The Mage might be on the other side of that wall, wolfing down a nice roast while we’re standing over here debating.”

“Let’s hope so. Haradin has successfully defended the kingdom from enemy attacks in the past. My father owes so much to him...”

“Really? When? There isn’t any record of that...” said Lomar, genuinely surprised.

“If it hadn’t been for his power and audacity, we would never have been able to hold back the Nocean Empire fifteen years ago. They invaded Rogdon with an army almost double the size of my father’s with the intention of annexing their vast Empire. Our men faced off against them in the Longordi Valley. Their powerful sorcerers unleashed unspeakable horrors on our troops with their dark, nefarious powers, planting unbearable, terrifying images in their minds and inflicting unimaginable pain on their bodies. They completely demoralized our troops. The battle appeared to be lost. Our soldiers retreated, fleeing the enemy’s evil power.”

“That’s right; those Nocean scumbags had sorcerers with very dark powers. It is said they are capable of poisoning their enemies, of infecting them with incurable, atrocious illnesses. How I detest those dirty desert jackals!” exclaimed the Sergeant, shaking his fist.

“How do you defeat a bigger army that has such powerful sorcerers?” ask Kendas as he looked at the Prince, completely intrigued. “History tells us it was a desperate charge by the King that won the battle for Rogdon—at least that’s what they teach children in the kingdom’s schools and temples.”

“True... But that’s not the whole story. History tends to glorify leaders and forget certain relevant details. It was actually Haradin who stopped them with his impressive powers. The mighty Mage advanced toward the enemy, immune to the wicked arts of the arcane sorcerers, and just when it looked as if the battle was lost he sent enormous fiery projectiles raining down on the enemy’s army. They exploded on impact over the stunned troops, burning everything in their path and decimating the attacking lines. Many men died on that battlefield, either burned to a crisp instantly or covered in horrific flames that slowly consumed them until they took their last breath. Seeing his chance, my father led a desperate charge with what was left of his dwindling army—the last brave men who’d remained faithfully by his side. Full of courage, the King viciously drove into the enemy, cutting through their terrified lines like the keel of a mighty ship cutting through the sea. He penetrated the heart of the enemy troops, seeking out and killing the sorcerers hiding there. The battle quickly turned to the side of Rogdon, and that is how King Solin beat the Noceans at the last moment.

“Why has Haradin’s intervention been omitted all this time from all the epic tales and the accounts recorded in history books?” asked Kendas.

“From what my father tells me, it was Haradin himself who wanted it that way. He preferred to remain anonymous. He’s always been quite discreet, like the majority of mages and people with the Gift. They don’t like to attract unnecessary attention since ignorant eyes may misinterpret their talents. Besides, so many people still fear and repudiate them. My father respected Haradin’s wishes, so the real story was never officially recorded.”

“I am sure he is still alive. We will find him and return him to the kingdom. I refuse to believe he perished here. My intuition tells me he is here, somewhere. We have to find him,” affirmed Aliana, her energy revived from their encouraging discovery.

“Onward, then!” the Sergeant ordered resolutely.

The group advanced toward the two large stone mounds in the middle of the cave, As they moved in closer, they realized they were a different type of rock than the walls of the cave; an odd, bright, reddish color. The mounds were almost seven feet tall and four feet wide and did not appear to be naturally occurring. There was something... abnormal about them, so the group approached cautiously. Lomar walked along the outer edge to investigate the formations from the opposite side.

He frowned in confusion. “Sergeant—I think you’d better come see this.”

Mortuc walked around to the other side of the two formations and stood next to Lomar. “What the hell... ? For the love of one-armed Tonas’ and all his cousins’ beards!”

The rest of the group hurried behind the rocks and were stunned to see a human-like relief carved into them. The head, a broad chest, robust arms and legs—all carved into the rock in a rectangular shape. Strange golden symbols were chiseled into the imposing chest.

While everyone was busy examining the unusual discovery, completely absorbed by what it might represent, the sound of a muffled canticle, sung in a foreign tongue, began rising in the cave. Startled by the baleful melody, their eyes searched their surroundings, trying to find where it was coming from. But with only the light of the two torches, it was impossible to determine the source.

Anxieties were mounting.

Something highly unprecedented was taking place.

“Get ready!” warned Gerart, quickly looking from side to side.

Suddenly, the two stone formations began to shake, rocked by the eerie canticle. Starting out gently and then gaining in intensity in a matter of moments, the vibrations continued to increase as slivers of the reddish rock began to slide off the slabs of granite.

The five companions split up and prepared their weapons, readying themselves to face an attack. 

The two human-like shapes in the rock began to shake more violently, the golden symbol on their chests burning as brightly as if it were pure gold. More shards of rock began flaking off as the tremors strengthened. All at once, the eyes of the two figures illuminated with a ghastly golden glow.

“They’re coming to life!” shouted Aliana incredulously.

With a loud
crack,
one of the stone humanoids broke its right foot free from the floor and flexed it. An instant later it freed its other foot, loosening it from the rocky floor with another loud
crack,
at the same time violently detaching its stony arms and legs. The group took a collective step back, apprehensive of the golden glare of the enormous granite being.   

The second stone humanoid freed itself. Now both of the huge shapes began moving as the group stared in disbelief. Aliana couldn’t help but think these beings—whatever they were—had a person within them, and that a powerful mage had cast a spell on these oversized humans and turned them to granite.

As she watched them move, Aliana remembered one of Haradin’s mystical stories and knew instantly what they were up against. “They’re Golems—stone beings created to serve a powerful mage!”

The first of the two Golems headed straight for Mortuc. The veteran soldier did not flinch at its menacing approach. He stepped forward, ready to confront the monster, even though he stood barely as tall as the granite humanoid’s waist. An arm of solid red rock, double the girth of a normal human’s, attempted to strike the Sergeant.      

Mortuc jumped to one side, narrowly escaping the blow delivered from the powerful creature’s stony shoulders. The Sergeant raised his sword with both hands and struck a hard diagonal blow across the Golem’s side. A loud metallic sound accompanied by sparks erupted as the steel of the sword met the creature’s stony body.

Seeing his chance, Lomar moved in and thrust his sword at the rocky monster’s chest but it bounced off, deflected by the beast’s powerful abdomen. The creature lashed out with its left arm and hit the young man hard, sending him flying through the air like a wisp of straw. The brave lancer hit the floor ten paces back with a loud thud. He lay there flat on his back for a moment before trying to get up, then struggled to his knees. Not quite recovered from the brutal landing, he fell face down, unconscious, on the floor.

Mortuc picked up Lomar’s torch and again went on the offensive, throwing another savage blow with his sword. This time it hit the Golem’s leg, but once more it ricocheted back amidst a sea of sparks.

“For the love of Kuntes’ nuts! I can’t hurt this thing! It’s made of solid rock!” shouted the infuriated Sergeant as he took a step sideways to dodge the creature’s bone- crushing arm. “Lomar! Are you all right? Answer me!”

But Lomar did not respond.

Gerart and Kendas were engrossed in fighting the other Golem, desperately trying to wound it somehow. Every cut, every thrust, was totally fruitless. Kendas tried to burn it with his torch but the creature was unaffected by the flames. Then, in the midst of Gerart’s fierce battle with the Golem, he was struck in the chest with the force of ten men and was thrown backwards until finally smashing into the wall of the grotto with a sickening thud. His limp body collapsed on the floor.

He did not get back up.

Kendas struck the stone monster again, this time in the head, but once again the sword recoiled back.

“What do we do? I can’t kill it!” he exclaimed frantically.

He dodged the creature’s attack with a quick sidestep then positioned himself on guard. Like an apprentice stablehand facing a rearing purebred, he was not at all sure of how to proceed with the fight. Beads of perspiration bathed his forehead.

Aliana nocked an arrow and focused her mind. She knew she probably could not hurt the creature but she had to try; her companions were in serious danger. She took a deep breath and released the bowstring. The arrow bounced off the body of the red Golem that was battling Kendas.
Help us, Helaun, Mother Healer, in this difficult moment.
In one fluid motion she’d reloaded the bow. Concentrating, she calculated the distance and inhaled, holding her breath as she aimed for the Golem’s head. She released. Another futile shot. There was no way to hurt this monster.

Disheartened, Kendas dropped the torch and grabbed his dagger. With the agility of a young panther, he jumped onto the granite being and drove the weapon into its left eye—all the way up to the hilt. The beast didn’t even seem to notice. Defending itself, it hit Kendas so hard that he was thrown through the air and smashed violently onto the floor at the other end of the cave.

Frightened, Aliana took another shot. Still no luck. Her eyes searched for the Sergeant; he was barely staying on his feet against his colossal adversary. His cuirass was dented from all the blows he had taken, and Aliana knew he would not hold on much longer. Granite arms were rapidly and repeatedly striking him. These Golems were going to end up killing every last one of them. Fear churned in her stomach. The situation was critical. They would never be able to defeat these creatures. They would die here, destroyed by the brutal beasts just like the rest of the poor souls lying around them had.