The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) (4 page)

The orc’s face pulled itself into a snarl of angry, green skin. The dark, almost purple lips curled furiously around the thick, bottom tusks jutting out from the lower jaw. Beady, black eyes stared at Lepkin.

“We will never cease,” the orc said in Common Tongue. “You will all die.”

Lepkin responded with a savage punch to the orc’s face. His gauntleted fist shattered one of the tusks and tore the flesh over the orc’s cheekbone. A moment later he retrieved his sword and finished the orc off. Even in death the incensed eyes stared at Lepkin confidently. The orc’s promise echoed in the man’s mind.

Lepkin scrambled to his feet and was instantly engaged by a foursome of spear-wielders. One of the points jabbed the side of his helmet, two slammed into his chest, and the fourth expertly came in to sweep his feet out from under him. Had it not been for the Telarian armor, it might have worked too. Fortunately, the armor splintered the fourth spear and Lepkin was able to remain balanced enough to react. He lashed out, catching one of the spear wielders with a thrust to the neck. As he brought his blade back he drew it across a second orc’s chest. Then he lunged forward, letting the blades over his left pauldron dispatch the third.

He turned to finish the fourth, but another dragon slayer arrived and drove his greatsword up through the orc’s back, lifting him into the air.

“There are too many!” one of the dragon slayer’s shouted.

Lepkin knew the man was right. The ocean of orcs around them now could not be stopped by mere men and their blades, even if some of them were made of Telarian steel. “Form around me!” Lepkin shouted. The dragon slayers formed into a defensive ring and Lepkin dropped his sword. There were still several trebuchets to be destroyed. If they were allowed to stand, the walls of Ten Forts would fail. He could see only one way to see the mission through.

His hands tore at the clasps and latches of his armor. He had to take it off. Every piece had to be removed.

A javelin glanced off his shoulder and Lepkin took note of just how little time he had. His fingers fumbled over the clasps attaching his hauberk. He knelt down on the ground to shield himself as the throngs of orcs pushed in on the other dragon slayers. His helmet hit the ground, then his greaves came undone. The hauberk fell.

An orc broke through the ring and one of the dragon slayers called out a warning. Lepkin jumped up to his feet and socked the orc across the face, since he still wore his right gauntlet. The orc was stunned, and stumbled backward a pace. Lepkin snatched up a pauldron in his left hand and drove it into the orc’s skull.

Then, the fires in his chest took hold and he let out a roar that silenced the battlefield. Orcs and men alike scrambled to get away from the bright orb of light surrounding Lepkin. The Keeper of Secrets knew the risks, but he also knew that should he be turned by the book once more, the dragon slayers would protect Ten Forts against him. All he had to do was destroy the trebuchets.

His bones cracked and snapped, but somehow it was not as painful as his other transformations had been in the past. He took his dragon form and roared mightily. Orc and man alike stood confused and backed away in awe.

Lepkin sent a ball of orange fire hurtling toward one of the trebuchets. The wood exploded into a shower of flaming splinters. The men cheered and turned to press the fight to the orcs. Lepkin leapt up from the ground, swiping at a group of several orcs with his tail. Their armor split apart and their broken bodies sailed end over end to land far away.

The dragon soared fast as his wings would carry him. He crashed through one trebuchet, splintering the machine’s arm and crushing what was left with his tail as he sailed past it and devoured another machine with his fire.

Something was very different.

The usual nag of the book was not there. Lepkin couldn’t be sure of the reason, perhaps it was hidden far enough away in the well in Tualdern that he was sheltered, but whatever the cause he felt no dark powers pulling at his soul. He was free. Taking confidence in this knowledge he quickly destroyed all of the trebuchets. Then he went to work on the orc army. He destroyed scores of them with his fire, and those nimble enough to escape the flame were either finished by his sharp talons, or the army of men that rallied beneath him.

The orcs soon turned and fled before his might. The whole army retreated back beyond the forests, and into the rocky hills to the south where they could regroup in the many caves. Seeing that he could not pursue them further without losing his advantages, Lepkin returned to his army and transformed back into a man.

All eight dragon slayers came up to him. Six of them quickly helped Lepkin dress in his black armor once more. The seventh dragon slayer helped carry the eighth, as his leg was badly broken and useless. The army around them all cheered, but the eight said nothing. They only glanced at him with wide, suspicious eyes behind their Telarian steel visors.

Lepkin offered them no explanation. He dressed, and then led the group back toward Ten Forts, helping to carry the wounded dragon slayer. No sooner had they set foot upon the road than a massive, black cloud appeared over the forest and drenched the whole battlefield in rain. Steam and smoke hissed as it rose above them. The only thing louder was the cheer of the men along the ramparts upon seeing the army approach the gates. The portcullis clanked and banged as it was quickly raised and the gates behind were pulled open.

Mercer stood there in the gatehouse, arms crossed over his chest. Marlin was with him as well. They moved off to the side as the army marched into the keep. Lepkin and the other dragon slayers peeled off to stand before Mercer and give their report. Mercer held them all at attention and waited for the thundering cadence of boots to march past and the gates to close before speaking.

“The trebuchets are destroyed?” Mercer asked.

Lepkin nodded and removed his helmet. “They are no more. Additionally, we have managed to route part of the orcish army. They have run to the hills.”

“No doubt to regroup and plan how to kill the dragon that scourged them,” Mercer said. His good eye narrowed on Lepkin and he cleared his throat. “I don’t know what kind of sorcery this is, but I don’t like it.”

“It isn’t sorcery,” Marlin interjected. “It is a gift, given to the Keeper of Secrets.”

“If it is a gift, then why hide it?” Mercer shot back. “Why not turn into a dragon and fly over the walls rather than risk my men?”

“If I may,” Marlin started with a hand in the air. “I know the ways of Valtuu Temple are shrouded in rumor and mystery, but there are reasons behind everything.”

“I don’t want preaching,” Mercer growled.

Lepkin gently stepped in between them and pushed Marlin back. “The last time I took my dragon form, there was an accident,” he said. “It is no secret that there is a dark magic that plagues dragons in this land. I fell victim to it, and was nearly lost.” Lepkin glanced to the eight dragon slayers and nodded to them. “I feared to take the dragon form again, lest the curse reclaim me and turn me to evil, as it had almost done before.”

“Then why do it at all?” Mercer pressed.

“Sir,” one of the dragon slayers called out as he stepped forward “We were losing badly, sir. Many of our soldiers were slain. Thousands of orcs were swarming around us. If Lepkin had not done what he did, not only would we all have died, but the trebuchets would still stand.”

Mercer waved the soldier away and stood there, brooding silently.

“I was able to maintain control,” Lepkin continued. “Upon destroying the trebuchets and routing the enemy, I changed back to my normal form. I felt no effects from the curse.”

“Remarkable,” Marlin uttered aloud. The Prelate’s white eyes twitched and Marlin inspected Lepkin form head to toe. “There is no evidence of the curse anywhere in your aura. It is as if you are immune to it.”

Mercer broke his silence and turned to Marlin. “So he can do it again?”

Marlin frowned and shook his head. “I am not sure of that,” he replied. “True it may be that he escaped the curse this time, one can only run their hand through the flame for so long before getting burned.”

Mercer nodded. “The eight of you are dismissed,” he said with a quick wave to the other dragon slayers.

“Yes sir,” they said in unison.

“Keep your mouths shut about this,” Mercer warned. “If the men believe we have a dragon on our side, it will bolster their spirits. No reason to dampen that hope.”

The dragon slayers nodded and moved off without another word.

A sly grin appeared on Mercer’s face. “Better than that, the orcs now believe we have a dragon as well. That may just buy us enough time until our reinforcements arrive.”

Lepkin saw Dimwater approaching from a staircase behind Mercer. He smiled to her, but she returned only a scowl.

“There is anger in her aura,” Marlin whispered.

Lepkin nodded. “I can see that for myself,” he replied.

“What do you think you were doing?” she snarled. Even Mercer quick-stepped to get out of her way. “You can’t just risk letting Nagar’s Secret take you again, not now! We have come too far, and are too close to accomplishing our goal.”

“The army was in peril,” Lepkin stammered. “I had no choice.”

Her index finger jabbed him where the neck meets the chest. “That was foolish!”

“There is no taint,” Marlin put in quickly.

Dimwater turned around and folded her arms. Her face grew red and she narrowed her eyes on Marlin. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Marlin’s eyebrows went up and he looked down to the ground.

Dimwater turned back to Lepkin. “Just because we married later than most couples, doesn’t mean you can be reckless. I know our responsibilities often put us in danger, but there is no need to help the grave along in taking us.” Dimwater then walked away, leaving the three men standing there, scratching their heads.

“So the honeymoon period is over, is it?” Mercer snarked.

Lepkin shrugged. “She doesn’t usually come unhinged like that. Not sure…” Lepkin didn’t finish his thought.

“I probably shouldn’t say this,” Marlin started. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at Dimwater again. Then he shook his head and started to turn away. “No, nevermind.”

“What is it, Marlin?” Lepkin asked.

Marlin shook his head and put up a hand. “No, I might not even be right.”

“Spit it out,” Lepkin said.

Marlin looked to Mercer, and then to Lepkin. He sighed and then moved in close to whisper into Lepkin’s ear. “I see something in her aura,” he said, as if that was enough to explain it.

“What?” Lepkin pressed.

Marlin exhaled nervously, his hot breath falling on Lepkin’s right ear. “I think she may be carrying a child.”

Lepkin pushed the man back and looked into his eyes. “What?”

“I said I think she may be—”

“I heard you, but that isn’t possible. We have only just barely wed, and we have only been together—”

“It only takes once,” Marlin said with a shrug.

Lepkin’s mouth fell open and he stared off after her.

“Hold on a moment,” Mercer said with an upraised hand. “Are you saying that Dimwater is pregnant?”

Marlin nodded.

“How can you tell so soon?” Lepkin asked.

“Oh the energies show everything in our bodies. They show it much sooner than physical symptoms appear also. I have, on occasion been wrong, but I have seen this many times. Whether a woman, a horse, or a cat, it is always the same. There is always a spark of life that appears.”

“Do you think she knows?” Mercer asked.

Marlin shook his head. “I don’t think so, not yet.”

“This stays between us,” Lepkin said with a sudden seriousness in his tone. “Not a word to anyone.”

Mercer grinned wide. “Whatever you say there, father.”

Lepkin knocked gently and pushed the door open slowly. He saw Dimwater sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands in her lap. She looked up and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she offered. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by what you did. It was the logical thing to do.”

“It’s alright,” Lepkin said. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. He was no longer wearing his armor. He was in a simple tunic and matching trousers. He moved in to sit on the bed alongside her. “I promise, I won’t take any unnecessary chances.”

Dimwater nodded and looked out to the window. “Where do you think Erik is now?” she asked.

Lepkin smiled. “If I know Erik, he is likely halfway to the mountain, and figuring how to sneak in.”

She dropped her head down to rest on Lepkin’s left shoulder. He thought about telling her what Marlin saw, but thought better of it. He wasn’t very well versed in family matters, but he knew enough to understand that it was not his place to tell her about it. It was something she should discover for herself.

“What are you thinking about?” Dimwater asked.

Lepkin opened his mouth but nothing came out. He frowned and furrowed his brow. Finally, he said, “I am not thinking about anything.”

A horn sounded off in the distance. Lepkin could tell from the low, vibrating call that it was not a horn used within Ten Forts. Likely it was a retreat somewhere along the walls, calling other orcs back to the hills to regroup. At least, that’s what he hoped it was. A knock thumped on the door.

“I have supper ready for both of you,” a voice called from the other side of the door.

Lepkin moved to the door and opened it to see a young porter carrying a very wide metal tray with wooden covers secured over the plates. “Thank you,” Lepkin offered as he stepped aside to make room.

“Supper is hot,” the porter said. “We have venison chops and a bit of soup. Bread is in the basket, and butter is in the dish.” The porter turned sideways through the door and placed the tray on the table before bowing and backing out of the room. He was so quick that Lepkin barely managed to thank him before the door closed again.

The two rose and moved to the table. Lepkin pulled the lid from the plates and set them off to the side. They ate their meal quietly. Lepkin thought about what Marlin had said, and what that would mean for him. He was already in his late forties, having a child now would put him well into his sixties before the child would be old enough to venture out on his own. Then again, who was to say it would be a
he
? Could be a daughter. Lepkin swirled his spoon around in the soup and let that thought sink in for a bit. How would he raise a daughter? He didn’t really know the first thing about girls.

“Something wrong?” Dimwater’s voice pulled him out from the spiraling labyrinth in his mind. Lepkin hastily took a spoonful of soup. He chewed the chunks of carrot and swallowed.

“No,” he said. “Just thinking.”

Dimwater raised a goblet of wine to her lips and drank, eyeing Lepkin all the while. When she set the goblet down, she arched a brow. “I have known you long enough to see when something is on your mind. What is it?”

Lepkin sighed. “I was…” the words trailed off. He looked at her, locking in with her eyes and he smiled. “I was thinking about our future,” he said. “What it might hold for us, and whether we might create a family one day.”

“You mean children?” Dimwater said with a snigger. She shook her head and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t think that would be a wise idea,” she said with a wide smile. “What kind of offspring would we create? You half dragon, and me half demon, that doesn’t sound like a smart mix.”

Lepkin offered a sheepish smile and looked down to his soup. He took another spoonful of soup and then moved on to cut a piece of venison.

“I have offended you, haven’t I?” Dimwater asked. Lepkin shook his head, but kept focusing on the food he was slicing. “That was not my intent. It is only that we are both a bit beyond our prime, in terms of appropriate ages for starting a family. I will agree that I thought of it many times, but I don’t know that that is in the cards for us now.”

“What if it was?” Lepkin asked, pressing the issue.

Dimwater shrugged. “It will be hard enough to fight the battles we have as it is. I see no wisdom in fighting while pregnant.”

Lepkin took a bite. As he chewed, he thought perhaps he should tell her what Marlin said. After all, not telling her didn’t change the fact, and should she ever find out that he knew before her and held it from her, perhaps that would be worse than not letting her discover it on her own. He swallowed the bite, hardly tasting it, and was about to explain everything Marlin had said when the door flew open. Lepkin instinctively gripped his knife in a way that would allow him to throw it at the intruder. Dimwater similarly prepared to weave a spell, but there was no need.

A man stood in the doorway, sweat across his brow and panting for breath. “Millwort is dead,” he said between gasps. “Mercer has requested you meet him in the courtyard.”

Lepkin nodded and the man turned to run on down the hall.

“Kranson Millwort was the commander of the scouts right?” Dimwater asked.

Lepkin sighed. “He is also the one who identified Eddin Finorel’s handwriting and seal upon treasonous missives directed to the enemy,” Lepkin replied.

Lepkin dropped the knife and made for the door with Dimwater only half a step behind. They jogged through the halls, down the many stairs, and out into the courtyard. A host of men stood gathered together so that Lepkin couldn’t see. He pushed his way through and found a horrid scene in the center of the crowd.

Millwort’s head, along with the heads of seven of his scouts, dangled from a rope tied around a horse’s neck. Each head was fastened to the rope with its own hair. Pinned to the saddle was a letter, written upon a bit of stretched human skin.

“The orcs have sent us a warning,” Mercer growled.

Lepkin nodded and stepped forward to inspect the letter. “It’s written in common tongue,” he said. “Usually they use only symbols.”

“Obviously the sender wants us to understand he is intelligent.”

Lepkin arched a brow. “Most orcs are,” he said. “But that does not explain how or why this particular orc would learn Common Tongue. I did meet one on the battlefield who also spoke in Common Tongue. That would suggest there is something more to it than just one or two orcs that chose to dabble in languages. They have their own language, books, and laws. To learn Common Tongue suggests that they had been preparing this for quite some time.”

“Or, at the very least, that they have studied our culture,” Mercer added. “Over the years I have found references to orc battle commanders and officers who are all taught Common Tongue.”

“Where would he get such documents to learn from?” Lepkin asked.

Mercer lifted his right index finger and motioned for Lepkin to follow him. “The rest of you get a pit dug and bury the heads along with the horse.”

“The horse too?” Dimwater asked.

Mercer nodded. “An orc would never offer a horse to the enemy, unless they had first given it poison.” He pointed to it and continued, “They believe the gift of a horse is a gift of honor. Therefore, when they send messages upon a horse, they choose one that is either sickly, or they make it sick, thereby turning it into a gift that dishonors the receiver.”

The men quickly took the horse’s lead and went off toward the rear gate. A few of them broke off, presumably to get shovels.

Mercer limped along, slowly leading Lepkin and Dimwater back into the main keep. He took them through the main audience chamber and into the commander’s quarters. It was a simple enough room, with a long table in the center holding a map of the area and a mockup of Ten Forts built out of wood. A desk was situated along the west wall of the room, and a shelf in the back of the room held various books and tomes. Mercer pointed to the third shelf. “When I was in command, there were books there. They were manuals that I studied. Some were on wars past, others on formation and battlefield strategy. Some of them were handed down to me from the previous commander, others were manuals that I personally sought and collected.”

“Where are they now?” Lepkin asked.

“I suspect that our dear Eddin Finorel has given them to the enemy, for none of them were here when I took possession of the room. I asked some of the other officers about it, but none had any idea that the texts were missing.” Mercer limped to the desk and sat down. “I was ordering my desk last night. I couldn’t sleep with the constant bombardment from the trebuchets, and I had several missives to write.” Mercer ran his hand along the underside of the desk and then suddenly stopped. “I found this.” He jerked his wrist and a wooden drawer shot out from under the table. Mercer pushed back with his feet, scooting the chair along the stone and motioning for Lepkin to look inside the drawer.

Lepkin quickly moved in and pulled a handful of letters from the drawer. He opened the first. “Send all of them,” he read aloud. He flipped the note over, but there were no other words upon it. He dropped the note to the top of the desk and looked at Dimwater, then back to Mercer.

“Go on, read the others,” Mercer prodded.

Lepkin opened the next. This one was written by a different hand. The penmanship was unrefined, with crooked letters and heavily marked periods and commas. “Now we have sufficient information, please report to Gilifan that we are ready. If he commands it, we could march within the month.” Lepkin flipped the note over, inspecting the parchment. “This looks to be fairly old,” he said. “The paper is stiff with age.”

Mercer nodded. “There are plenty of notes in there. Many of them are old as the one you currently hold in your hand.” Mercer took the note from Lepkin and held it up for Dimwater. “I believe this one was written by an orc. I have captured orc missives before, and the pattern of writing seems to fit their style. Each of the strokes are heaviest on the downward lines and the punctuations, which is something that is common among orcish writing.”

Lepkin nodded. “They always start each symbol with a downward stroke. Only then do they make the remaining motions for each letter or symbol.”

Mercer held up a finger. “And the punctuations are always marked heavily. You can see the exact same patterns on the message they sent to us today.”

“This isn’t the same handwriting as what is on the note outside,” Lepkin commented.

Mercer shook his head. “No, but I believe they are related.” He pointed to the stack and shook a finger. “A couple of the notes make a reference to Elshu’appa,” he said. “Even if there wasn’t the handwriting style, a reference to Elshu’appa is enough for me.”

“The first orc high king,” Dimwater said breathlessly. “It would seem that these are written by an orc then. So Eddin Finorel had been working with them a long time to prepare the orcs to take over Ten Forts, then.”

“That is my guess,” Mercer said.

“Where is young Eddin Finorel? Have you sent him north for trial yet?” Lepkin asked.

“Finorel is dead,” he said. “Someone gave him a length of rope. He hung himself. Had to work at it too, seeing as how he used the bars on his cell door to do it.”

Lepkin tossed the notes onto the desk. “Well, I doubt his father, Lord Finorel will be pleased to hear that.”

“Indeed,” Mercer said with a shrug. “However, I suppose he already knows, or will know shortly.”

Lepkin folded his arms. “You suspect that someone found out he was caught and made sure to silence him then?”

Mercer nodded. “Looks that way. I don’t know anyone with a strong enough will to hang themselves like that. Hanging from a cell door is awkward at best, and even if he had the angle right, it would be a very violent death. He would have had to pull his feet off the ground, and even then his knees likely would have supported him. Unless he was actively pushing against the door with his feet to put pressure on the noose, my guess is someone strangled him, then tied the rope to the cell door and fled.”

“Where is the guard?” Lepkin pressed.

Mercer snorted. “Nowhere to be seen. He simply vanished.”

“So we have another spy to deal with.”

Mercer nodded. “How is Marlin at finding spies?”

Lepkin nodded. “It would take some doing. There are a lot of men in the forts, but if the rat is still here, Marlin can find him.”

Mercer nodded and sighed. “Hop to it then. The both of you go with Marlin. Inspect each and every man here. Any who are false are to be hung from the ramparts for the orcs to see. They have given us a visual warning. Let’s return the gesture.”

Lepkin turned to move, but Dimwater paused, staring at the note she held.

“What is it?” Lepkin asked.

Dimwater shrugged. “Gilifan, I think I have come across that name before.”

“A wizard?” Mercer asked.

Dimwater sighed. “I am not sure. It could be nothing, but if I remember then I will let you know.”

“Come,” Lepkin said. “Let’s go and find Marlin.

*****

Maernok pulled the drinking horn up to his lips and let the amber liquid tumble over his gums and down his throat. He didn’t bother to savor the taste, he was not in the mood. When the horn was drained of the warm brew he tossed the empty vessel onto the small table before him.