Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread (12 page)

“What do you mean by ‘evil’?”
Darius asked. “Are you saying those things had malicious intent, not just the
blind hunger of any animal?”

“That and more,” Barlow said. “They
were not of this world.”

They pondered his words with
expressions of concern and confusion, but none gainsaid him.

Barlow continued. “This should
really be no surprise. You have the Book of Dread. Those things—I believe they
are called Dezku—are one of an unlimited number of possible manifestations of
what one using the book might conjure forth from a lower plane into our world. Actually,
I imagine almost anything else called forth would be far more formidable,
although these Dezku are dangerous when in great numbers, and their bite is
potent. A sort of poison better healed with prayer than any medicine known to
man.”

“That’s why those you aided
improved far more than those the healers attended,” Adrianna said.

Barlow nodded. “I only wish my
strength was endless. I fear to ask how many passed in the night while I
slept.”

Silas shot a look at Darius
and Luke, an unneeded warning. They all knew in rough terms how many had
perished because of the attack. Barlow had done all he could; the added burden
of knowing how many hadn’t made it would only slow his recovery and leave a
lingering sense of guilt he shouldn’t be forced to carry.

“So now what?” Darius asked. “Will
those things return?”

“Not here, I would guess,”
Barlow replied. “They’re intelligent enough to avoid New Bern. A parting gift
we can leave the locals.”

“So we still go north,” Silas
stated. “This attack only confirms what we feared, that the book has been used,
and we need to keep it away from Landri and his inner circle.”

“Will you be able to travel
soon?” Darius asked Barlow.

Barlow didn’t know the younger
man well enough yet to know if the concern on his face was for his health or
the time that might be lost waiting for his recuperation. Either way, he hopped
out of bed and proclaimed himself ready to go.

As the others filtered out to
get their things, Barlow grabbed at Silas’ arm, needing to steady himself. In
response to Silas’ raised eyebrows, he said, “Just need a bit of help keeping
my balance. Can’t use the power like I could when I was young and not feel it
for a time afterward.”

Silas smiled. “Bet it felt
good, though.”

Barlow scowled but admitted it
was so. “But I don’t want to hear any ‘I told you so’ out of you.”

“Not a word,” Silas promised.

They started to collect
Barlow’s belongings, and as Barlow straightened too quickly after retrieving
his boots, he found the room starting to spin again, and used Silas’ strong arm
to balance himself one more time. He shook his head and mumbled, “I hate
getting old.”

As the group set about
acquiring the other items they wanted for their journey, it was clear most of
the townsfolk had a new respect for Barlow. Most had known him only as a quiet
older gentleman who lived alone somewhere across the river. Only a few had
actually witnessed the display with the sword, many more his exertions to aid
the fallen with his healing touch, but word spread quickly in towns such as New
Bern, and almost everyone they passed regarded him with awe and appreciation. However,
Barlow took less note of these faces than the stricken looks of those who had
lost someone in the attack. Most of those in mourning remained indoors, wanting
their privacy, but here and there he locked eyes with someone out on a quick
errand that couldn’t wait, and it was in their sad visages that Barlow saw the
reproach, the questions about why he couldn’t have saved one more, just one
more. It was a question for which he couldn’t give himself an acceptable
answer.

By the time they reached the
edge of town to start their journey north, they had all the supplies they could
carry, given without expectation of payment, including a properly made staff
that Silas accepted with great thanks. They even had to turn away gifts of food
and clothing that they had no way of taking with them. A dozen people or more
asked them to stay, some pleading for their protection, but these requests they
had to politely refuse. Despite all the adulation—or rather because of
it—Barlow was clearly relieved when they finally departed New Bern.

If the old paladin thought all
the attention paid him would abate once they were away, he was sadly mistaken. He
soon found the others eyeing him surreptitiously, likely wondering if he was up
to a long march. Rather than confront them he simply took the lead and set a
brisk pace. An hour down the road he finally was convinced they were no longer
focused solely on him, and the conversation, casual and pointless so far,
finally turned to their intended route.

Silas gestured at the
mountains that rose up before them. “Whether we go over or around the Dragon’s
Teeth, we’ll be in Dalusia. Darius, when you left the front, where were the
armies?”

“We were camped south of
Highland Forest. From there we were going to push toward Antigo or Genola, but
I know not which was chosen. I traveled home via the Coast Road. If we go that
way, our path will be clear until we reach the front, or so I hope. We could
then turn west before reaching the war.”

“The Coast Road would add
several weeks to our journey,” Adrianna pointed out. “I would hate to take the
longest route if it could be avoided.”

“Well,” said Silas, “if we go
west from here, we could try passing through toward Wingate Falls, or continue
south of the mountains and cross at The Plateau.”

“I’d pass through, if we
could,” Darius suggested. “The Plateau offers little shelter and is
well-patrolled on both sides. At this point we want to see neither the Dalusian
army nor our own.”

“How do we cross the Vale
River?” Adrianna asked. “Are there other bridges than the one we left behind at
New Bern?”

“I do not believe so,”
answered Barlow. “But closer to its source it can be forded. We will be in the
foothills before we turn west.”

In terms of physical
conditions for travel they could really ask for no better than what they now
experienced. They passed along the banks of a broad, flowing river, under the
shade of the towering trees that framed it. The day was warm but peasant, the
blue sky dotted now and then by high, thin clouds. But it was difficult to
simply enjoy the hike, knowing what had just passed and wondering what might
yet be before them.

Darius found himself behind
Barlow, and for a time he watched the sheathed sword on the older man’s hip as
it rose and fell with the cadence of his stride. He marveled at the raw power
of it, hidden and secret now. If he had found it on a table in New Bern’s
market he would have passed it by without a second glance, more than content
with his own blade. How much of the power, he wondered, was in the sword, and
how much was from Barlow? He quickened his step to pull even with the paladin.

Barlow saw Darius move up and
nodded once in welcome.

“Mind a few questions?” Darius
asked.

“Ask away,” Barlow replied. “We
shouldn’t have secrets if we’re going to be traveling together.”

“Obviously I’m more than a
little bit curious about your sword.”

“Of course,” Barlow said,
patting the weapon. “I hadn’t thought I’d wield Gabriel again, and for the most
part, I wish that were the case. A shroud of evil is falling upon our world,
one I’m not sure can be fended off.”

“ ‘Gabriel?’ The weapon has a
name?”

“Given by my mentor. Named
after the archangel. It certainly seemed a fitting moniker yesterday.”

“How did you come to have such
a weapon?”

“The same man who named it
bestowed it on me when my training was complete. It had been his sword, and he
felt a younger and stronger arm should wield it.” Barlow laughed ruefully at
his own words. “At my age, I feel the same way. Perhaps I should have taken on
a student years ago, when the ways of the paladin were not ways that needed to
be hidden from the world. I don’t know what will happen to Gabriel when I am
gone, but I fear its light may never shine again.”

They walked for a time in
silence, Darius unsure what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Barlow eventually
said. “I find I’ve become dour in my old age. Sometimes I forget the young
still have hope for this world.”

“You have none?”

“I suppose I still do. Otherwise
I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, we’re all glad you were
with us yesterday. If those things—the Dezku you called them—came back, would
you be able to use the sword to run them off again?”

“I believe so,” Barlow
answered, but he added a shrug.

Darius had expected a more
reassuring response. “You’re not sure?”

“I wasn’t fully sure
yesterday.”

“But if you had been wrong…”

“I wouldn’t be here. And that
would have been God’s will, something I’ll not dispute.”

“Sounds like you can’t trust
the sword.”

“Oh, I don’t, not in the way
you’re thinking. The sword is simply a conduit, as am I. The only bit of
knowledge that drove me to act as I did was my belief that the flying creatures
were in fact Dezku, denizens of a lower plane. It is against evil that a pure
heart can channel otherworldly power through the sword. If it had been a swarm
of vicious bats, Gabriel would have just been another blade.”

“Then if they return…I don’t
understand why it would be different, why you doubt.”

“I doubt my own strength, for
one. Using Gabriel in such a way takes a toll, as does the healing I performed.
I am only a man, and my strength can wane and be broken.”

“Fair enough,” Darius replied.
He waited for Barlow to go on in some fashion, but when he didn’t he continued.
“You seemed to imply another reason for doubt.”

Barlow nodded, his face going
tight. “You chose a good word. ‘Doubt.’ I mentioned a pure heart, or maybe a
nearly pure one, as no man but one can claim total purity. I’ve never doubted
my faith, not directly, but sometimes I wonder if my own attitudes about how
Corterra has changed and what future it might have, and an occasional feeling I
have that’s close to bitterness about my own aging shows too great a focus on
the powers and things of this world. Can one think such thoughts and still be
considered pure of heart?”

Again Darius found himself
searching for the right words.

Barlow smiled at the younger
man. “Let that be a lesson to you. Be careful what you ask. You may get more in
reply than what you want.”

*

That night the mood in their
camp was as light as could be hoped for. They had made good progress, seen no
sign of the Dezku or any other potential trouble, and now had full bellies to
go with their full packs. Even Adrianna and Barlow were still maintaining their
unspoken truce. It was in such a situation that Darius expected Luke to be in
his element, but instead his brother seemed pensive and worried. After the
stories around the campfire started to slow, Darius rose and announced he
wanted to stretch his legs a bit, and so had reason to wander away from the
others. He wasn’t surprised when Luke soon followed. “Nice night,” he remarked
casually.

Luke looked up through the
trees at the shimmering stars. “It is that. Always liked looking at the stars.”

Darius joined his brother in a
brief period of stargazing, tracing constellations he had known from boyhood. “Want
to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Luke laughed once, a quick
snort. “You mean other than the flying demon bats and that book you’re
carrying?”

Darius couldn’t help but
smile. That was the Luke he knew. “Yeah. Other than that.”

“You know, I always wanted
adventure in my life, like any good farm boy. I was jealous of you being off in
the war. That’s dumb, I know, but until you experience the horrors of it…well,
it’s easy to think of it a just a game for grown-ups, a way to prove you’re a
man and to have stories to tell back home.” He found he couldn’t look at his brother,
embarrassed at his own words. “You probably think I’m being a stupid kid.”

“I don’t. You’re showing a
lot of maturity just being able to express those thoughts. And I was no
different.”

“You weren’t?” Luke asked,
surprised and relieved.

“No, I wasn’t. Thought I’d
come back to a glorious welcome, the conquering hero. It didn’t take long at
the front to realize that wasn’t going to happen, and as far as having tales to
tell…”

“You have them, but not the
desire to share them.”

Darius shook his head. “I
doubt I can ever forget, and there is little I’d want to relive by the
telling.”

Luke nodded. “So now I’ve got
my adventure. Yesterday I saw something I never would have dreamed of, the way
that sword shone. But even so, there was fear and death, and our road ahead may
contain far worse.” He looked Darius straight in the eye, something he rarely
did. “I’m wondering what we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

Darius fought the urge to
immediately suggest Luke return home. He knew he wasn’t asking to be excused,
and Darius had to admit to similar feelings. “We’re doing this for Sasha.”