The Sword of Darrow (24 page)

When his life had passed, the events began to spin one into another. He saw faces of people and goblins and Minotaurs that did not belong together. They appeared in settings that were entirely wrong. He became deeply confused, and now, instead of goodness and courage, he was overcome by anxiety and fear. For a few short minutes, this great whirlwind of distorted and false memories raged through his mind. Again, he began to shake—this time not with the power of good but with the fear of evil. Inside his mind, the torments of his life grew suddenly large and his heart was racked with terrible pain. All of the awful ghosts of his awful past swirled and raged in a panorama so frightful that he feared he might never depart with his sanity intact.

Then it stopped.

When it stopped, he saw the forest where his parents lived and where his childhood was spent. Standing in the forest, looking directly into his eyes, stood Zindown.

Scodo was perplexed. He had not the slightest understanding of why Zindown might appear. But the second he saw the image, he knew that it was Zindown who had somehow, some way, dealt him his most grievous and terrible wrong. Scodo wondered if perhaps Zindown planned to hurt him in the future, for while Zindown was evil and had opposed him and Babette in the desert, Scodo knew of no other way that Zindown had committed acts against him. But as he considered Zindown, a new feeling arose inside him.

It was the feeling of hate.

Desperately, Scodo fought back with all his new power. He returned to the memories of his parents. He looked into the face of his loving mother, and in her expression he found strength. He thought of Hugga Hugga and Babette and the friendship they had given him and his strength continued to grow. He looked into the souls of those who taunted him and those who were horrified by his very presence and he understood them, loved them, and forgave them once again. And finally, he forgave even the goblin mob and they, too, felt his love. As he retraced each step, slowly, and with all the power inside him, his goodness and his power began to grow. A great, wondrous glow filled his body and surged through his fingertips and toes. With this new power, he felt as if he had soared into the air, breaking even the grip of gravity that binds us to the earth. Now he was stronger and his power raged. He turned toward the image of Zindown again, armed with the most powerful forces the human spirit can create. He considered Zindown for his wrongs and thought of the evil deeds he carried with him every day. He wondered at the terrible burden.

As he searched for compassion, his body trembled mightily with all of the great power he had summoned. But that power was not enough. He could not understand. He could not forgive. He could not love. His spirit staggered backward, reeling in defeat.

But Scodo had stood at the edge. He had reached for the power and it lay only a little beyond his grasp. One person stood between him and the magic. And Scodo would not be denied. Once again, he put Zindown away and went back to his power. He retraced his memories. He nurtured his goodness. Once more, he felt love for his enemies and forgiveness for their actions, this time more deeply and profoundly than before.

When he had brought his power to its greatest level yet, stronger than he could have imagined, he brought this power once again back to Zindown. He faced the image of the wizard anew. And a great struggle raged inside of him.

Babette was once again alarmed. Scodo’s body shook so violently that the wagon began to wobble. The wobbling grew and the wagon rocked so hard that Zauberyungi brayed in fear. This time, Scodo did not calm. He shook and trembled as he gripped the wagon with his mighty hands.

Babette feared that she had pushed him too far. On and on, the shaking continued and Babette became afraid that Scodo might never return from the horrific struggle that raged within.

Then, in an instant, he was still. For a long time, he did not move.

Now Babette was hopeful. Perhaps he had conquered his demon. Perhaps this great being that sat beside her would perform wondrous magic that very night. Waiting with eagerness, anticipation, respect, and love, she stared at Scodo.

Scodo lifted his head, and as tears dropped from the motionless eyes on his dark face, he turned to Babette.

“I have failed.”

Babette comforted Scodo, who was dazed by all he had been through. She told him he had great power. She told him he would do great deeds that could change the world. She urged him to find patience because he had been blessed with a beautiful gift, greater even than that of Asterux himself. Her words soothed his battered spirit. But for a long time he could not move or speak.

As she whispered encouragements into his ear, she wondered what terrible demon lay inside of him that could resist the awesome power of goodness that Scodo held within.

T
he road was dry and the morning dew had long since burned away. As Darrow looked to the rear, the line of soldiers stretched into the horizon. Their footsteps raised a dust cloud that obscured the end of the line. Darrow no longer greeted each new recruit. They were too many. He wondered how many walked in the line. It must be at least six hundred.

Ahead, Darrow could see a town, bigger than Kelofel, with stone houses, some three stories tall. The town was Pfesthammer and before Darrow had approached the city limits, his soldiers were greeted by well-wishers who lined the road to cheer his success. When he entered the town, the streets were as packed as before. This time, the town had already gathered food and weapons, which they presented with great ceremony in the town square.

When he finished his speech, he inspected the weapons. There were pitchforks, more hammers, and many knives. But when he had sifted through the pile, he turned to Timwee with an expression of despair. No words were needed to convey the terrible news.

In this vast pile of weapons, there were only eighteen swords.

As soon as he was able, Darrow asked to meet with the blacksmiths. “Our hope lies in your hands,” he began. “We need swords, as many as you can make and as fast as you can make them.”

“But we know nothing of swords,” one of the smiths responded.

“It is time you learned,” Darrow snapped heatedly. “We are all responsible for allowing the goblins to rule unchecked.”

By early afternoon, the men were marching again. Darrow pushed his men hard, desperate to cover ground. They were almost a day’s march from Kelsner’s Plain, where Darrow expected to spend the night. But the hardships of the march were hardly noticed at all.

The cheers of their countrymen rang in their ears. The hopes of their kingdom soared in their hearts. Alive, eager, and certain of victory, Darrow’s ragtag band practically floated across the plain.

The sky was dark as Darrow’s company approached Kelsner’s Plain, a city that was home to ten thousand people, almost fifty miles from the forest. As they rounded a turn in the road and the city came into view, a man on horseback galloped to meet Darrow. This time, there was no welcome. This man brought a warning.

The goblin army was marching. They would arrive at Kelsner’s Plain tomorrow night.

The messenger was unsure of their number. There were reports from many people. Some said a few hundred, others counted as many as a thousand. But whatever their number, they would soon stand before them on the field of battle.

At the edge of the city, Darrow was met by the committee of town leaders.

“You have one day to prepare. Tell us how we can help.”

“Bring me every carpenter in the city,” Darrow replied. “Tell them to prepare to work tonight and all day tomorrow.”

One of the men scurried away to meet Darrow’s request.

As they walked the streets, Darrow marveled at the shops. He had never seen a city of any kind. One shop contained bowls and cups and pitchers, all made of glass.

“People drink from these containers?” Darrow asked.

The mayor struggled to suppress a smile.

“They do. In fact, Kelsner’s Plain has more glass blowers than even Blumenbruch. These drinking cups are in every house.”

They arrived at the mayor’s home. A small crowd stood outside and cheered Darrow’s approach. But there would be no speeches tonight. For weeks, Darrow had considered this battle. His speeches would slay no goblins.

Inside, city leaders answered Darrow’s questions about the whereabouts of the goblins, the size of their force, and the landscape beyond the city. When his questions were answered, he told the leaders what he needed. “We will need volunteers to work behind our lines.” Heads nodded. “We will need contributions from every household in the city.” Heads nodded. Darrow issued his instructions in great detail.

In the next room, Timwee, Hugga Hugga, Kaylin, and Mempo waited. Darrow entered and gave orders. All soldiers would assemble west of town at sunrise. They had one day to prepare and they would need every minute. And when all was clear, Darrow lifted his sword to repeat the pledge of their band. Around the table, every sword rose to meet Darrow’s. But before he could speak, a messenger burst into the room.

A wagon had arrived from Kelofel. It contained twenty swords.

N
ot a single star broke the blackness of the night, only a quarter moon. It hung just above the horizon and its reflection cast a long white line across the water.

Thirty-five hours earlier, Scodo and Babette had begun their journey. Now, long after midnight, they stood at the pirate’s cove. To reach Darrow in time, they would have to make the return trip in barely more than a day.

The ground was soft and wet and covered with high grass. They scanned the darkness to locate a ship. They could just make out a dock in the distance. As they approached it, they saw the shape of a ship against the sky.

The deck was littered with snoring, unwashed, unshaven men. Some lay in hammocks. Others sprawled about the deck in all manner of bodily contortions. Scodo looked at Babette. Babette shrugged. What were their choices?

They stepped quietly onto the boat and looked about. Where was Telsinore? Suddenly, a voice boomed in the darkness.

“Who dares trespass on the Trap Door?”

Startled, Babette turned to see the dark shadow of a large man lifting himself from the deck. Knives and clubs hung from his belt. He pulled a sword.

“I’ve run many a man through for less than this,” he said with a hint of pride. “Though you are obviously no man.”

The sleeping bodies began to stir.

“We came to see Telsinore,” Babette shot back. “We have business to discuss.”

“Aye, and what business does a lady have? Perhaps you’re an old friend of the Cap’n, come here to reacquaint?”

At the sound of a woman’s voice, several men lifted their heads and began to blink.

“Only to do business,” Scodo repeated. “We’ve brought treasure. A lot of it.”

At that, the pirate grabbed a rope and sounded a bell. Twelve men stood about the deck, staring at the strange pair.

“You’d best stand back with your hands on your head.”

One pirate charged Scodo, but Scodo grabbed him by the shirt and threw him from the boat. The pirates drew their swords. Scodo drew his as well and took a step forward. The pirates stepped back.

Then a voice rang out behind him.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you. Not if you want this pretty lady to keep her head.”

Scodo turned. A pirate was holding Babette by the hair with a knife at her throat.

“Put her down,” shouted Scodo.

“No, you drop your sword. One wrong move and the missus will be looking for her head.”

The pirates snickered meanly. Scodo dropped his sword. In a moment, his hands, arms, legs, and feet were tied with ropes. Then his neck was chained to the mast. Babette was tied, gagged, and carried below.

“Remove his hood,” cried the pirate who had been thrown overboard. By now, torches lit the deck. A pirate grabbed the point of Scodo’s mask and pulled.

The reflections of the torchlight danced on the dark shell of Scodo’s face. His tiny round insect eyes glowed still and red. A gasp spread across the boat.

“We’ve caught ourselves a monster,” said the large pirate, speaking softly and with respect. In the light, Scodo could see this pirate for the first time.

A long scar ran up the side of his neck and behind his ear. He was bald on top and the wide scar made a trail of hairless skin connecting the top of his head with his neck below.

“And it’s a monster we’d best dispose of,” said another. “He could have evil powers!”

“Well, if he’s so evil,” replied the scar-faced pirate, “perhaps he should join our band.”

A great laugh erupted from the men.

But one pirate spoke out. “I heard of this scorpion man. Be careful of him. He’s killed thirty men in a single fight, so they say. These chains mightn’t be enough.”

The pirates exchanged glances. One or two took a cautious step backward. Meanwhile, Scodo’s keen mind was thinking fast.

“Where is Telsinore?” he asked.

“What is it to you, scorpion man?” the pirate shot back.

“Our business cannot wait,” Scodo replied. “By morning, the possibility of great treasure will be lost.”

“Your business days are finished, scorpion man. You can have your say at sunrise. Be glad of it. They’ll be your last words.”

But Scodo continued. “Kill me if you will, my friend. But when Telsinore learns of the treasure he has lost, you’ll surely be lying at my side at the bottom of this bay.”

The pirate eyed Scodo suspiciously. “What are you talking about?” the pirate asked.

“I am talking about wagon after wagon of precious treasures. All of the treasures from a thousand homes and castles across Sonnencrest—the stolen loot of ten years of goblin rule. By the morning, that chance will be gone.”

The pirate narrowed his eyes. “I’ll not be tricked by nonsense. Still your tongue or I’ll pull off your scales with a blacksmith’s tongs.”

“Threaten me if you will,” Scodo replied, “but kill me and my fate will surely be your own.”

“You don’t scare me, scorpion man,” the pirate replied. He sat down on the deck, preparing to sleep. For a moment, he stared out to sea. He turned to look at Scodo, grimacing at the sight. Then he rose to his feet, jumped to the dock, and scampered back toward land.

A few minutes later, he returned with Telsinore.

Telsinore was not a happy man. “Who dares disturb me?” he roared. The other pirate held up a torch. When Telsinore saw Scodo, he stepped back, covering his eyes in disgust. He collected himself, looked upon his captive, and spoke with grim impatience.

“Tell me your business.”

“I need swords,” replied Scodo calmly. “I have brought a handsome treasure to pay for it.”

“If your treasure is in that wagon, it is already ours. Why should I give you swords for something I already own?”

“This is true. You can kill the girl and me and the treasure is yours. But if you do, you will miss a treasure a hundred times its size.”

Telsinore raised an eyebrow but leaned closer to hear more.

“There is great rebellion in the land of Sonnencrest, led by a warrior named Darrow. He has driven the goblins from Hexenwald. Every day, a hundred new men arrive to join his army. But to fight the goblins, he needs swords.”

At the mention of the goblins, Telsinore spat on the deck. “So this Darrow might kill a few goblins and I wouldn’t complain. But suppose you tell me why that means treasure for me?”

“If Darrow wins, the goblins will flee. They will be forced to cross the channel to Globenwald. And when they do, they will carry with them gold and silver stolen over the last ten years.

“Think of it! Soldiers on horseback, their saddlebags stuffed with jewels and gold. The tax collectors and officials will carry boxes of coin. And, in one or two wagons, there will be the greatest treasure of all: chests and chests of treasure, collected in the palace, which belong to King Malmut himself.”

“If, if, if!” Telsinore shot back, trying not to appear intrigued. “All of this is based on
if
. Sonnencrest will never defeat the goblins. They are a race of whimpering puppies!”

“Perhaps you are right,” Scodo said, “although Darrow has already won great battles. But may I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you a gambling man?”

“I am indeed.”

“Well, tell me then. What would be your answer if someone offered you a chance at a great treasure? And imagine that this treasure was greater than any you have touched in a lifetime of work.”

Telsinore thought, imagining such great treasure. Excitedly, he began pulling his beard.

Scodo continued. “Perhaps your chance was small—maybe only one chance in ten. But what if the price for this chance was small as well? What if, to have a chance at this treasure, all you would have to pay would be two hundred swords? Would you not pay the swords?”

For the first time, a smile crossed Telsinore’s face. “I understand your logic, scorpion man. But why should I believe your tale? How do I know this Darrow even exists at all?”

“Perhaps he doesn’t,” replied Scodo. “But what if the chances are only one in twenty that he exists and can drive the goblins away? If it never happens, what have you lost? Two hundred swords? But what if he does exist? What if the lady and I crossed the desert and boarded your ship for a reason? What if Darrow succeeds? If my words are true, you have the treasures of a whole nation waiting to be robbed.”

Scodo could see the glimmer in Telsinore’s eye.

“You speak with sly logic, scorpion man.”

“I speak with
your
logic, Telsinore.”

Telsinore laughed out loud. This monster was amusing.

“Two hundred swords are too many. I will give you one hundred and fifty,” the old pirate bellowed with gusto.

“I need two hundred,” Scodo shot back.

“Then we keep the girl,” Telsinore replied.

“One hundred and fifty and I take the girl.”

Telsinore paused for a moment. In his mind, he recalled those dreadful goblins stealing his emeralds on the river. And the very thought made him tremble. He pictured the chaos of fleeing goblins. He imagined wagons loaded with treasure arriving at the channel. Then he pictured his own sword stained with blood and an enormous pile of riches stacked at his side.

These were pleasures too rich to resist.

He looked down at Scodo.

“Scorpion man, you have yourself a deal!”

He turned to the pirate holding the torch. “Untie the prisoners,” he ordered.

Scodo and Babette led Telsinore back to the wagon. Telsinore inspected the chest, but his mind was on the channel.

“This Darrow,” he asked. “When will he face the goblins?”

“In barely more than a day, we believe,” said Scodo.

“You’ll never make it,” the pirate replied.

“We have to make it,” said Babette, still angry and refusing even to look at Telsinore.

Telsinore shrugged and turned to his men. “Get the swords, a hundred fifty of them,” he ordered. The men scurried back to the shed next to the dock. Telsinore paused, thinking of the goblins.

“Make it two hundred,” he shouted, “and hurry. These people have no time to waste!”

In four short trips, the wagon was full of weapons. While they loaded, Telsinore paced back and forth. When the wagon was ready, Babette gripped Zauberyungi’s bridle, prepared to begin the journey back. But Telsinore told her to wait.

He turned to his men.

“Bring the axe.”

A minute later, two pirates returned, carrying an enormous battle-axe. The shaft of this axe was as long as the wagon itself. The two-sided blade was as tall as three hands and twice as wide. Across the blade were beautiful engravings of dragons and knights in battle. The metal shaft was decorated with a flowering vine that wrapped round and round from the handle to the blade.

“This should bring you luck and a few more dead goblins,” Telsinore beamed. “Go! Go! Darrow is waiting!”

Back in the desert, neither Babette nor Scodo rode the wagon. To lighten the load, they walked, Babette at Zauberyungi’s side, rubbing his shoulders and whispering encouraging words. When the road rose, Scodo stood at the back of the wagon, pushing it forward.

Soon after the sun broke over the horizon behind them, Zauberyungi stopped and would walk no more. Babette and Scodo had not slept in more than a day. They lay down to rest.

When they awoke, the sun was high in the sky. By Scodo’s reckoning, they had slept almost three hours—two more than they intended. Desperately, they rose and pushed forward again with new urgency.

The return trip moved more quickly. Where water had eroded the road, Scodo now knew how to flatten the sand so the wagon could travel more easily across it. Using their old wheel tracks, the wagon passed more easily through the gullies and back into the road. No wizard threw obstacles before them. By sunset, they had reached the rise in the plain where the spiders had swarmed. Many miles remained, but their progress gave them hope.