PURE OF HEART (7 page)

When they finally felt that they were clean, they walked back to the pool.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” Han muttered.

“What doesn’t?”

“Leaving him in there. If it were me, I’d want someone to take my body out.” Han looked at Dean, but Dean didn’t move. Han paused for a moment and then silently slipped back into the water.

Dean paced back and forth on the bank as he scanned the edge of the pool for some sign of the body. He wished he’d not thought of getting the body out and, worse yet, trying to find it underneath the surface.

Han turned back to Dean. “I don’t know if I can lift him all by myself.” A pleading look rose on his face.

Dean looked down for a minute and then stepped into the pool. “I can’t believe I’m going to look under the water for a dead guy,” he mumbled.

Dean and Han felt around the water, sticking their arms down while trying to keep their heads above the surface. Both of their faces were contorted with looks of disgust. The water swirled around their necks and their feet stirred up the dead leaves at the bottom. Soon the smell of decay rose to hang above the pool.

“This is gross. We don’t even know how the guy died.” Dean stood up and shook the water off his hands.

“Or what killed him,” Han added.

As Han finished his sentence, Dean wished he’d never said anything. A feeling of dread washed over him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

“I think I know what killed him.” Han’s voice rose higher. “He did,” Han screamed as he pointed at the huge creature on the shore. “It’s a Varlug!”

Dean and Han both ran for the other edge of the pool.
Crack!
The Varlug’s whip snapped through the air and just missed Dean’s head. The Varlug stood nearly eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and bowed legs. Its hideous face was somewhat human except it was grossly distorted with a flattened nose, large ears, and two tusk-like teeth that rose from its lower jaw to cover its upper lip. Its gray, hairy face twisted in glee as it snapped the whip again and the leather wrapped around Dean’s neck. The Varlug jerked it tight.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as the whip cut into his skin.

The Varlug laughed as it pulled in its struggling prey.

With his right hand, Dean pulled the whip to relieve the tension and, using his left hand, fumbled for the sword at his side. The creature yanked him closer as it raised a barbed spear.

Dean’s feet were dragged across the slippery floor of the pool until he found a rock to brace some of his weight. He managed to turn and face the creature. He stared straight into the Varlug’s black eyes. The Varlug lifted his spear. Dean yanked as hard as he could on the whip. The Varlug stumbled forward and fell into the pool. With a wicked growl, the Varlug burst out of the water and jumped at Dean. Both of them disappeared beneath the surface.

The creature’s evil head broke out of the water and lifted its spear high. Its spear struck again and again into the water as it searched for its victim. The hideous creature felt its spear strike flesh and bone. The Varlug roared triumphantly.

Han’s little hand was grasping his dagger from his pack when he heard the Varlug behind him. As Han spun around, he saw the creature throw the limp body to the deeper side of the pool and turn toward him.

“DEAN,” Han screamed.

Han raised the dagger and threw it with all his might. As the blade spun through the air, Han saw everything slow down—the dagger spinning, the creature raising its spear, and the top of a head appearing from under the water on his side of the pool. As the head continued to rise, Han saw it was Dean’s.

“It stabbed the dead guy,” Han cheered.

Dean’s head broke the surface, and he watched as the little Elvana’s dagger spun straight for his face. He turned his head, and the blade whizzed by his ear.

The dagger struck the Varlug in its arm. It roared in pain and dropped its spear.

Dean pulled himself up onto the shore and scrambled to his feet.
Crack!
Again, the whip lashed out at Dean. It circled around his neck. The Varlug pulled and yanked Dean off his feet. Dean’s hands fumbled for his sword as the Varlug dragged him back toward the water.

Han ran forward. The Varlug picked his spear up and swung it like a staff as it tried to ward off the approaching little figure. The blow struck Han in the side and sent him flying. He landed in a heap on the shore.

Dean drew his sword from its sheath as Han fell. With a cry of rage, Dean’s sword cut the whip around his neck. As he spun to strike the creature, the butt of the spear crashed down on Dean’s head.

It felt as though an explosion went off in Dean’s brain, and he fell backward. His eyes glazed over. He landed flat on his back, all of the air in his lungs bursting from his mouth.

The Varlug stomped triumphantly forward. Dean stared up at the creature that now towered over him. The Varlug raised its spear over its head, prepared to drive it through Dean’s body.

The Varlug’s leather shirt jutted forward and slowly split open, revealing the bloody, razor-sharp head of a large axe. Two trails of black fluid ran from the corners of the Varlug’s mouth. As the creature tumbled to the side, Dean saw Bravic on the other bank of the pool.

“A midget Viking?” Dean said aloud. “I got saved by a midget Viking.” Dean smiled crookedly before he closed his eyes and fell into blackness.

Dean opened his eyes and saw Han’s familiar face filled with worry.

“Bravic, he’s awake,” Han cheerfully whispered to the Dwarf.

“Han, where are we?” Dean mumbled and licked his lips. “I feel like I ate sand, my mouth is so dry.”

“We’re about a mile from the pool. You’ve been unconscious for a whole day now. The Dwarf and I carried you here. Actually, Bravic did most of the carrying. This is Bravic Volesunga. He’s a little older than you. If it weren’t for him, we’d both be dead. I think—”

“Hold on, Elvana.” Bravic’s thick hand landed on Han’s shoulder. “He’s just woken up. Give him some time to get his legs,” he added, his voice deep and rich.

“Thank you, Bravic.” Dean unsuccessfully tried to raise himself up on his elbows before slumping back down.

Han added, “Thanks. I thought the Varlug had us. You’re very brave.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Bravic mumbled and walked back to the campfire.

“Dean, it’s late. Drink this tea.” Han passed Dean a dented metal cup, which he thirstily drank from. Taking back the cup, Han continued, “It’s an herb tea to help you sleep. Rest now, my friend. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Han crept away; Dean quickly fell asleep.

He awoke to a gray morning and the sounds of swords clashing.

Dean sprang up. His head spun, and he swayed in a large circle but managed to remain standing. He rubbed his eyes and saw Bravic instructing Han on how to use a dagger against a battle-axe in combat. The Elvana listened intently.

Dean stretched and approached the two figures, engaged again in their mock fight.

“Dean, you’re awake.” Han beamed. “Bravic is showing me how to be a warrior. Something you’ve neglected to do, I might add. I didn’t think of it until this morning when Bravic asked me if I knew how to fight, and I realized I didn’t. I know how to fight a little, but I’ve never been formally trained. I’ve never been trained at all, actually. I do know how to shoot a bow.” Han paused as he tried to do his best imitation of the Dwarf. “But if I ever met a Daehtar, he’d cut me in half before I could draw that little bow.”

“That’s right, he would,” Bravic growled, but a smile crept across his face. “That’s why I’m going to go with the two of you. Without me, you two wouldn’t last a day on this quest.”

“Han, have you told him everything?” Dean blurted out.

“Yes.” Han gulped. “After all, he did save our lives . . . and he’s a mighty warrior,” the Elvana nervously added.

“I don’t know. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I don’t know if it’s right to drag you into this too,” Dean said.

“The way I see it, you need my help. Right now I don’t have any place to go, so I’m going to come along.” Bravic pressed his lips together and squared his wide shoulders.

Dean looked at the imposing Dwarf for a moment before he nodded his head. “Okay. My name’s Dean Theradine, at your service.” Dean bowed, trying to remember how Panadur had taught him. “If I was out a whole day, then Han must have told you all about me already.” Dean scowled at Han.

“He’s told me most. What I believe and what I don’t, I still have to see, though. I mainly question the part about you being from the Heavens.”

“I’m not from the Heavens,” Dean growled as he glared at Han.

“Whoops.” Han impishly smiled.

Dean’s stomach rumbled. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“This little woodsman is a fair shot with that little bow. On small game,” Bravic added when he noticed Han’s smug grin. “He managed to down quite a few rabbits. They’re all skinned, cleaned, and cooked. We thought we should wait for you, much to my own dismay.”

After the three sat down and ate a hot breakfast, they continued on their way, beginning a downward trek from the mountains. For four days they traveled. When they stopped to rest, Bravic taught the others how to fight against someone with an axe. Soon, Dean and Han were covered with bruises. The two learned quickly but used different styles. Han ducked and dodged then tried to spring in and jab quickly. Dean, however, attacked aggressively, trying to turn the blows aside with his sword and sweep in, using the speed of his weapon.

The days were gray and dark; storm clouds turned thicker and seemed to sink closer. The clouds hid the sun and tried to smother their spirits as well. To pass the hours as they walked, they talked about the two lands and told tales. Bravic frequently burst into a boisterous and spirited song of the Dwarves:

Since the days of Caltic we dug deep

Into the mountain for gold to reap

We’ll dig all day, we’ll dig all night

We’ll dig till we see that golden light

We are Dwarves! We are Dwarves!

We dig under mountain

We dig under light

We dig all day and we’ll dig all night

We’ll dig till we see that golden light

We are Dwarves! We are Dwarves!

Our backs are stone

Our arms are steel

Deep under mountain

Our hammers we wield

We’ll dig all day, we’ll dig all night

We’ll dig till we see that golden light

We are Dwarves! We are Dwarves!

As they traveled, the land became less rocky and more level. Small shrubs became trees and the gravelly path turned to grass. Soon they were out of the mountains and traveling over grassy hills, spanning out in front of them like a green sea in a storm.

On they journeyed—Dean and Han were glad the travel was a little easier now. Even though Bravic seemed to miss the mountains, he still burst into his rugged songs. During their fifth night on the plain, they camped between two grassy hills. A forest now loomed before them, only a short distance away. As Dean gazed upon the sky, the clouds parted for a moment, and a shadow passed between him and the almost-full moon.

“Did you see that?” he whispered to Bravic. “It was some big flying thing.”

“Did it look like a bird?” Bravic leaped to his feet.

“No. It wasn’t a bird. It looked like a—” Dean’s words cut off as Han tackled him from behind.

Dean pitched forward as four taloned paws swept just over his unprotected head.

“They’re Tarlugs. Flying Krulgs. Should we stand and fight?” Han drew his little dagger and got to his feet.

“Run and hide,” Dean yelled as he drew his sword and ran toward the forest.

“Good idea, Human.” Bravic unslung his huge battle-axe and raced after him.

As the three ran, Han nocked his bow, and all three looked to the black sky. Dean saw what looked to be a Krulg with huge, dark-green wings flying toward them.

“Twelve o’clock high,” Dean screamed as he set his feet in preparation for the creature’s attack. Dean stepped to the side as the Tarlug descended on him. His sword struck it in the chest and sent it spinning down, where it skidded along the ground. “I got it!” Dean cheered. “I got it!” Dean vaulted into the air and felt talons rip into his jacket and pull him off his feet. “Help! It’s got me!”

An arrow flew from Han’s bow and sunk into the back of the Tarlug that held Dean. The Tarlug went limp, and they both crashed to the ground.

“Come and stand your ground where I can hit you, you cowardly flying dogs.” Bravic raised his axe and screamed at the sky.

Dean picked himself up; the others ran to him. They all looked up and could see many more shapes fly overhead.

“Run for the woods. They can’t fly in there.” Dean dashed ahead and the other two followed.

The Tarlugs descended after their fleeing prey. Dean and Han reached the tree line first. Bravic was still racing toward them when a Tarlug dove at his unprotected back. Two more arrows flew from Han’s bow. The first struck the Tarlug in the wing, but the second hit its chest. The beast drove straight into the ground and landed in a bone-cracking heap.

The Dwarf sprang for the safety of the trees. A Tarlug tried to pull out of its downward plummet but smashed into the upper branches of the tree. It bounced from limb to limb, only to land on its head on the ground. With a single swing of his broadaxe, Bravic made sure it was dead.

“I think we should keep going forward,” Dean panted as they stopped a short distance away in the woods. “I don’t want those things chasing us all night.”

“We can’t go forward. The Palutaried Swamp is in this forest, and I wouldn’t want to journey into it in the day, let alone at night,” Bravic said grimly.

“Well, I know we’re safe.” Han crossed his arms and leaned against a tree. “Tarlugs can’t fly in a forest, so we have nothing to worry about.”

“Unless they walk, too.” Dean pointed to the Tarlugs that landed at the edge of the woods and walked into the forest. “Let’s get out of here. Palutaried Swamp, here we come.”

Again they ran. Dean and Han had to slow down for the Dwarf, but they all began to outdistance the creatures. The Tarlugs were not able to run fast because they had huge wings and seldom used their legs.

As they raced through the forest, the ground became spongy. Pools of dark, muddy water rose from either side of the narrow path. After a while, the pools grew into one and the water steadily rose. Soon, even the path disappeared. While they continued to wade through the water, Dean looked nervously at Han. The water was now up to the Elvana’s chest.

“Stop. Listen. I think we lost them,” Bravic whispered.

“I think you’re right. Should we go on?” Dean asked.

“I think we have to keep gong straight. I have no idea where we are,” Bravic grumbled.

“Then we don’t have any choice.” Dean shrugged. “Han, I think you’d better get up on my shoulders. The ground seems like it’s leveling off, but I don’t want you to fall into a hole or something.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea to me.” Han beamed; the thought of getting out of the muck was very pleasing.

They picked their way through the swamp. They headed north as they twisted and turned around the vine-covered trees and mounds of earth that rose periodically. Their feet sank in the thick ooze at the bottom, and with each step they took, it became harder to pull their legs free. Their footsteps also churned up the murky waters, making them even blacker and creating a foul, rotten odor that lingered in the stagnant air.

The swamp was home to a great number of flying, crawling insects that bit, stung, and swarmed over them. As they walked, the swamp swallowed any trace of their passage. The water seemed to transform into smooth muck once again.

“Dean, something bumped my leg!” Bravic yelped nervously as he tried to peer into the black water.

“Imagine it’s a fish,” Dean called back.

“Yeah, imagine it’s a fish,” Han repeated from atop Dean’s shoulders. The Dwarf glared up at him.

After traveling a little farther, something bumped Bravic’s leg again.

“There it is again!”

“Imagine it’s a fish,” Dean snapped as he slipped and almost fell headlong into the murky water.

“Yeah, imagine it’s a fish,” Han teased.

Dean stopped to rest—Han, as light as he was, had started to tire him—and Bravic yelled a muffled call from behind.

Han turned. “Imagine it’s a—it’s not a fish,” he screamed as he saw only Bravic’s feet stick out from the mouth of an enormous snake who, with his prey in its jaws, dove back into the water and sped off to their right.

Dean lunged after the fleeing snake. Han tumbled from his back and landed with a splash. The snake moved so fast it was soon lost from sight in the dark water.

“Han! Come on, we have to go after Bravic,” Dean cried.

“We don’t know where it went.” Han spat, trying to get the foul tasting water out of his mouth.

“It’s going to eat him.”

“I don’t think so.” Han shook the water from his hair. “At least not right away. It’s an Aliandor. They like to save their prey and eat them later. At least that’s what I’ve heard. There are some in the Weeping Meadow Marsh, but I never heard of one that big. It could have grabbed you.”

“So Bravic could still be alive? It didn’t bite him in half or squeeze him to death or—”

“I hope not.” Han made a horrified face. “A fisherman from my village was taken one time, so my dad and some men went to rescue him. My dad said the snakes do all their hunting and then eat everything they catch later. It might have a nest or home around here somewhere, and it would have taken Bravic there.”

“Bravic! Bravic,” Dean called and then listened. There was no response but the sound of buzzing insects. “BRAVIC,” Dean screamed as loudly as he could, but again, only the sounds of the swamp were the reply. “How are we going to find him? Do you think we could see its lair?”

Han’s voice cracked with frustration. “It could be anywhere in this swamp.”

“You said it does all its hunting at once?” Dean asked.

Han nodded. “My dad said the snake came out and caught a member of the rescue party. They followed the snake back and saved both men,” he said proudly.