Refuge: Kurt's Quest (15 page)

“How did you learn so much about magic?” asked
James.  “I mean, being a warrior and all.”

“That is a long story,” said the Ellala, looking
off into the distance.  “I was once studying to be a mage.  I met the Princess
at the Academy, where she was studying under the Priests of Arathonia.  She
found her calling, and I was found wanting.”

“But you know spells.”

“Simple ones, and that’s all,” said Fenris with
a human head shake.  “I couldn’t wrap my mind around the more complicated ones.
 And the Academy only allowed those to continue who could perform the higher
forms of magic.”

“Then they wouldn’t like me.  At least not
now.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t like you,” said Fenris with
a laugh.  “And they really wouldn’t like the idea of a young human mage
shredding their best defensive spells with his fire based attacks.  No, they
wouldn’t like that at all.”

“Thank you for helping me,” said Drake, a smile
stretching his own face.

“I help you to help all of us, young Master. 
The more powerful you are, the stronger we are as a group.  You are our only
mage, and we may live or die on this quest depending on how well you do.”

And no pressure
, thought James with a
smile. 
When we’re down to three minutes and a goal behind, I’m the striker. 
So no pressure, indeed.

Chapter Eleven

 “We need to know where in the hells we are
going,’” said the Marshal, looking at his scout commander.  “I don’t just need
to know where the creatures are that might be a danger to us.  I need
intelligence on where this temple, or ruins, or whatever it is might be.” 
I
don’t even know what it is, much less where it is.

“I am not sure how much we will get from these
animals,” said the officer, his eyes narrowing.

“Just bring some back for interrogation.  Our
Priests will figure out how to get it out of them, if they have it.  If not,
they shall still die horribly as an example to others.”

The scout commander gave a head motion of grudging
acceptance, turned his horse, and rode away.  The Marshal looked up at the
surrounding mountains, high and jagged, and seemingly unclimbable at this juncture. 
And what do we do if it happens to be on the top of one of these mountains? 
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. 
We will deal with that when
we come to it.

Moments later the first of the infantry stepped
off.  They had fed well the night before, and had gotten sufficient sleep. 
But, as feared, breakfast was cold rations, not enough to even fill the bellies
of the Ellala.  In that way, it would have been better to have brought humans,
or even Grogatha, along, as they could hold up without food for a much longer
time than the Elves.

Hopefully we will eat well tonight, if the
hunters can find game.
  He looked over to see the men who were carrying litters
with wounded on them.  Ten men who would be useless for the next couple of
days.  The others had either died in the night, or had been put down as the sun
rose and it was apparent they would not survive being moved.  As there was no
way they could be left behind without falling prey to the natives, who would
delight in making their passage to the afterlife as horrible as possible.  The
Marshal had refused the offer of
Jakisanda Millistara to put them down.  He knew
how the Death Priest would do it, and that was no more merciful than what the
Grogatha would do.  Worse, even, since death by torture would still leave the
souls of the men to find their own reward or damnation as they deserved, while
an ending at the hands of the Priest would consign them to the worst of the
hells of Bothar, something most did not deserve.

Though I’m sure my soul would end up in that
hell without his aid, considering the crimes I have committed in my life.
  Ellisandra sat his
horse for a moment, contemplating his life.  He had been a willing accomplice
to the crimes of the
Emperor
Ellandra Mashara.  He had seen the evil in the man, and still he had supported
him. Which made him guilty of still more crimes, those committed by the
Emperor, while he had stood by and watched.

The Marshal watched as Millistara and a couple
of his assistants walked by, the tall Death Priest staring at him with cold
eyes. 
Probably still mad I didn’t let him send the life force of brave men to
his Demon God.  Just as he will to mine if I fail.  If that happens, I had
better make sure he is distant, and Glassini and Krug are near.  At least those
two would give me a clean death, and maybe I would only suffer in one of the
upper hells for some millennia before rebirth.

They marched through the morning and afternoon,
the sun rising high over the valley, which by its orientation allowed the light
to fall upon them throughout the long northern day.   About mid-afternoon the
scouts relayed a disturbing find, and the Marshal hurried forward with an
escort of horsemen that had come back for him.

It was not a large village in any respect,
maybe thirty huts.  Some had been crushed under a great weight, and the claws
of large beasts were apparent on the ground around those huts.  There were dead
bodies all over the village, many of them half eaten.  That in and of itself
was not disturbing.  There were a great many predators in a land like this,
some very large, though the claws of these were larger than normal.

No, what was disturbing was the fact that many
of the bodies were still upright, frozen in place, as were most of those lying
on the ground.  There was only one explanation for such a thing.

“Dragons,” said the scout officer, who had
served on Arctic expeditions prior to this, one of the reasons he had been
selected for this one.

“But freezing?”

“White dragons,” said the man.  “Just as cruel
and vicious as the ones we are used to seeing in the south.  But cold, oh so
cold.  The very touch of one can freeze a seal.  And they have a singular
breath weapon.”

“When did this happen?” asked the now nervous
Marshal, his eyes scanning the sky.

“From the still frozen state of the bodies, no
earlier than this morning, possibly in the night.  Otherwise, they would be
partially melted by now, and these Grogatha are still solid.”

So now we don’t only have to worry about the
threat of savage tribes, but also an even greater danger from the sky.
  “We will march under
the cover of the trees from now on,” he told the scout commander.  “Such as
they are.  I do not want to have these dragons come on us without warning.”

The Death Priest and some of his men walked
into the village at that time, coming through the ranks of infantry that were
now standing in place, waiting for the column to move.  Millistara moved to one
of the Grogatha, a partial body missing from the waist up, putting a finger on
the frozen flesh.

“Can you take care of these dragons if they
come at us?” asked the Marshal of his chief magic user.

“I would prefer not to,” said the Priest, his
own eyes nervously darting around, looking anxiously at the sky.  “My type of
magic is not really useful against such beasts.”

“I thought your power came directly from
Bothar?” asked the Marshal with a sneer.

“And these dragons are creatures of Bothar.  I
am not even sure I could contain the life energy of one of these without
bursting into flames.  The Wizards would do better against these, and I would
only pit them against one at a time.”

“There were many here, Lord Millistara,” said
the scout commander.

“Then we had best avoid them, unless you want
your entire command to be frozen here, dead.”

The Death Priest turned and walked away, his
eyes still scanning the heavens.  The Marshal looked at his scout commander. 
“Continue on ahead, but keep a close eye on the sky.  I will order half of our
men to do the same.  We might be more vulnerable to the barbarians on the
ground, but I would rather deal with a sneak attack from them than an assault
by dragons.”

The rest of the day’s march continued
uneventfully, the kilometers passing by, even though now the men marched off
the path.  The scrub brush was thick enough to hide them from the air, without
being so thick as to impede progress.  That night they again camped, and
hunters went out and once more brought in game.  The land seemed to teem with
it, despite all of the hunter gatherer tribes that lived here.  The Marshal
pulled out the map he had of this land, woefully incomplete, with huge areas
inland of the coast marked as, nothing.  Just white space, and he was right on
the edge of that terra incognita.

His was one of the only three full sized tents
in the camp, and he had an actual folding table that he could use for laying
out maps.  And to place the scying ball the Emperor had given him.  As he was
studying the map, the ball began to glow, a sign that the person at the other
side was trying to connect to him.  He stared into the ball, and the face of
the Emperor appeared.

The scrying ball only showed truth, and the
Emperor appeared as he really was, a half dead creature, his parchment like
skin stretched over the bone of his skull, glowing eyes staring out of deep
sockets.  It reminded Ellessa of the evil he served, and the damnation he
faced.

“Have you made any progress, Marshal?” came the
thin voice of the Emperor over the link.

“We are deep into the land, my Lord,” said the
anxious leader.  “But I know not where we are going.”

“That is not satisfactory, Marshal,” said the
thing on the other end of the link.  “The Germans and Americans get closer to
my capital day by day.  They have taken several of my river forts, and the
bridges they protected.  I cannot defeat them in battle, and need that artifact
to save my Empire.”

And maybe the best course for the world would
be for you to lose your Empire
, thought the Marshal, concentrating so that
those damning thoughts would not be transmitted through the link.  “This land
is vast, your Majesty.  I do not even know if I landed in the right place.  And
ahead of me stretches uncharted lands.  Perhaps Bothar might help.”

“The location of the artifact is hidden from
his eyes, Marshal, as it is from the eyes of all the extant Gods.  The Ancient
Gods hid it well, knowing of its power, and the destruction it might cause.” 
The face drew closer to the ball, the teeth snarling in anger.  “I need that
crown, Marshal.  I give you one week to find it, or your soul shall be
screaming in the Halls of Bothar for an eternity.  Of that you have my word.”

The image faded, leaving the Marshal to stare into
emptiness as the sweat of fear dripped down his forehead. 
I must find that
artifact
, he thought. 
No matter what I have to do, or who I have to do
it to.
  He was almost tempted to rouse the camp and continue on into the
night, but dismissed that thought as soon as it came.  He didn’t know where he
was going, and forcing his men to march into the unknown with no destination,
especially at night, was a recipe for disaster.  The morning would come soon
enough through the shortened night.  And then he would redouble his efforts at
procuring prisoners.  For surely someone around here knew where the damned
place was.

*     *     *

[Many of the big uglies come your way,] sent
White Paw.  [And they have a band of the larger uglies with them.]

The wolf had spotted signs of the Orcs a couple
of hours earlier.  It had not indicated that any of them had gotten within
visual range of the party, but, then again, it was only a lone scout, unable to
cover all approaches to the group.  Obviously some had crept in and saw them,
then reported back to their village that an enemy was on their land. 
And if
they had missed us until tomorrow, we would be on H’rrut’s high road, and they
probably wouldn’t have even known we were ever here.  And if wishes were
horses, we would have gotten much further along on our mounts.

[Thick larger uglies, or the even bigger ones,]
sent Kurt, asking the wolf to tell him if they were Ogres or Trolls.  Ogres
were bad news, big strong and tough.  But Trolls were a disaster on two feet. 
Even stronger and tougher, and able to regenerate almost any injury.

[Not the bigger ones,] sent back the wolf, who
was well aware of both species of giant humanoid.

“We have trouble coming,” yelled Kurt to his
people.  He looked around and spotted the entrance to a small canyon, only
forty meters or so wide.  “Everyone, to that canyon, and form a shield wall.”

“I’ll stay out here,” said Jackie, moving
toward the covering brush.  “Where I can use my agility against them.”

Kurt nodded, not really liking the idea of leaving
her out here, but knowing that she would do as she thought best.  And she would
come as a complete surprise to this enemy when she hit their flanks.

They had just formed the shield wall when the
grunting speech of the Grogatha and their allies came through the brush.  Kurt
looked over his small
army
.  He only had a score of archers, including
the two sons of H’rrut and some sailors.  Maybe the former galley slaves had
some skilled with the bow among them.  But what they didn’t have were the
weapons, or in some cases, the strength to pull a bow.

He looked over at James, knowing that he was
their ace in the hole.  He was something that these tribes were sure to have
never seen.

With a cry the Grogatha came rushing into the
open, looking around for a moment, then charging at the shield wall.  They had
almost reached it when Drake unleashed the first of his fireballs, the small
sphere of crackling fire expanding as it arced over the heads of the men and
into the center of the mass of Grogatha.

The Orcs saw it coming, and many pulled up in
their tracks and tried to reverse course.  Others screamed and pointed.  Both
responses had the same effect, nothing, as the ball burst into a roaring
maelstrom that sent waves of flame in all directions, dying out only after they
had traversed twenty-five meters in all directions.

Every creature within the half globe was
killed, those nearest the center completely incinerated.  Many Grogatha on the
periphery beat at the flames that had ignited on their greasy furs and leathers. 
Before they could react, James sent another ball to the right, then one to the
left, and over half of the attacking Orcs were cut down.

The Ogres took that time to run out into the
open, all of them stopping and blinking as they saw what had happened to their
allies.  What Grogatha were left pushed by them in their haste to retreat.