Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (32 page)

They crossed the street to the government buildings and Cyril pushed a door open with the spear. It swung inward with slow creaking noise. He stepped in and the others waited.

When he returned, he motioned the others to him. “I looked through the papers, it looks like normal business. If I had to guess, I would even say they closed up for the night. Everything was put away.”

They continued down the main road through the town, circling around the well and checking inside every building in passing. All were deserted. They had left the horses tied outside of the town, and Rogen sent Dawn and Cite went to fetch them.

“Well?” Rogen looked at Cyril and Gruedo. “What do you think?”

Gruedo spoke up. “They were asleep. I have seen enough houses in the middle of the night to know the pattern. No food, clothes, or toys scattered about, no sign of daily activity.”

“Asleep when what happened?” Cyril asked. “There are no signs of fighting or even struggle. Not a single sign that anyone had packed anything. Clothes hung on lines and beds were slept in. And where are the animals? No horses, chickens, pigs, dogs, cats, not even a rat. I did see signs of bread in the cooling cabinets and meat in the cellar, still wrapped in the cloth.”

Rogen scratched at his steely beard. “It was not the bugs, no sign of entry points or remains. It was not your undead, no signs of destruction or struggle. What could take every living thing in a whole town while they slept without any warning from a barking dog or an early riser?”

They were still going over the possibilities when the other two returned with the horses. Rogen quickly caught Dawn and Cite up on what had been discussed. Cite told them what he had sensed when he first entered the town.

“The ley lines here are drained,” Dawn informed the others. They all stared at her, not sure what exactly that meant. “Someone has used an incredible amount of ley energy here. Imagine someone diverting a river to wash out a valley. The river still exists but is much slower until it builds back up. There is a residue here, like a muddy ground if it was a flood, but it is magical.”

“I wonder if that is what I am feeling.” Cite asked.

“Can you sense ley lines?”

“Not that I know of. I think I can feel it when you draw upon the energy, but that is more a change in you, not in anything around you. This was a film, like walking into a sauna but not so thick that I could see it, just feel a difference. It’s like grease on the floor, and makes you walk with caution even though you can’t see it.”

“I also wonder about why there is not anyone coming in from surrounding farms and villages to trade,” Rogen said. “Were those also emptied?”

No one had an answer.

“Well, guys, what do we do?” Gruedo asked. “Do we stock up with the supplies left here? It will go to waste if we don’t.”

“I don’t have any problem with claiming the spoils,” Dawn said.

“It would not be right to steal it,” Cyril said. “Even if the owners are gone or dead, it does not belong to us.”

“Cyril is right,” said Rogen, “it does not belong to us. I do not cherish the thought of going into the woods without any extra supplies either though. We may find out what happened here one day, but we do not have the time to do it now. I suggest we collect what we need from the shops, not anyone’s personal home. We make a detailed list of what we ‘purchase’. When we return this way, we stop here and see if the population has returned. If they do, then we pay what we owe. The bottom line is that anyone else that comes here will loot it without mercy for selfish reasons. We should use what we can to do good.” He looked at Cyril first to see how he felt about his suggestion.

“That’s fine. It is reasonable and fair.”

“Very well. Two stay here with the horses,” Rogen said, “the other three stay together and bring everything back here. Cite, would you log what we take please?” Cite nodded and turned to his saddlebags to retrieve his writing case. “Cyril, would you stay here with Cite? Dawn and Gruedo can join me in finding supplies.”

Cyril’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he looked at Rogen. He did not miss the fact that a thief, a pirate, and a slaver would be the ones alone in the buildings. He mumbled a quick prayer to Jonath about honesty, and then nodded at the shorter man, knowing the others had heard him.

The three made a methodical search of the closest businesses and brought the items they chose to Cite and Cyril to be cataloged. In just over an hour, they had a small pile. They upgraded what they could of their equipment and picked up extra supplies that would be useful in many situations, such as rope and blankets. They decided that they would not take any food, in case it had been part of the cause of the mystery in New Roval. It was just after noon when they finished repacking their bags and set out towards the dark wood to the south.

Life returned as they entered the ancient forest. Birds flew from branch to branch and called out their songs. Small animals scurried through the underbrush searching for food to store for the winter or scrambled up and down the trees and leapt from branch to branch. After the eerie silence of the town, the primeval garden that towered above them was loud.

It grew warmer as they traveled and soon they all removed their cloaks. Gruedo wondered aloud if this was because they were going south, and Cite explained how a forest kept warmth in and stopped as much heat from escaping due to the cover of the branches and leaves. They walked the horses as much as they rode them. The forest floor was clear of small underbrush, but the horses couldn’t travel at much more than a walk because of low branches and uneven ground.

The rest of the day was uneventful and pleasant, which made it even more eerie. They traveled southwest, using Dawn’s direction sense to guide them. If things went right, they should reach the river Wisdom in three days. They debated if they should light a fire when they camped at night, and it decided that anything that could spot the fire would be able to smell them as well. If they ran across Kala or his people, they would be better off with the fire and light anyway, and a fire would keep most of the night prowlers away.

5854 – Ault – Jordar - Uthr

Essude bowed before Kala as she told him of the five people who had entered his lands. She had run for two days and nights to bring him the information. Her pale green skin shone in the afternoon sun shower and her reptilian toes dug into the loamy earth. The rain didn’t seem to bother her as she blinked when it hit her large eyes. After her report, she stood to her full five-foot height and waited for her master to give his instructions.

Kala wore his usual black woolen cloak with chain armor underneath. Piercing crystal blue eyes surveyed his court of Dasism as they gathered upon his command. With a gloved hand, he shifted the sword on his hip by its unicorn horn handle. He needed little sleep since he was reborn with fae blood after his death three quarters of a century ago. He was slim and stood well over six feet, towering over the Troöd he had deemed his second in command. His thick blonde mane of hair was unaffected by the rain, though the wind moved it.

The Dasism around him looked dull and lifeless. Their slim shoulders drooped, and they stared at the ground in front of them. They would come to life when he gave an order, but until then they would just stand where they were. He looked across the once immortal beings and smiled. He had brought them from their lofty perch and broken their arrogance. He had his revenge upon them, and craved to do the same to the humans that had once been his race. The Talisman had brought him the power he needed to drain the magic of the beings before him, and it would bring him the power to punish the humans.

The Troöd in front of him shared his joy at bringing down the lesser races that did not deserve what they had. He looked at her pale green legs, slim and long, the knee bending behind her. Her feet sported two large toes to the front and a large clawed toe in the back. He had seen more than one person disemboweled by her using her feet. Her face was long and had a broad long nose that ended in slits for nostrils and a slightly pointed mouth.

Kala looked at the structure he had built and called Shoulsia Sharrow. It was a blend of fae magics that grew the trees to his specifications and artifacts from the fae and human cities he had destroyed. The trees overhead linked branches and kept most of the weather away. Magic did most other things that were needed in day-to-day life. Now these humans, and one of the Stone Folk, had come into his sanctuary. He didn’t know what they wanted, and didn’t care. Few human cities that had once thrived in these woods still existed, just a few on the coast and one or two in the northern-most regions.

Many of his Dasism were disbursed to those areas to bring down the remaining settlements. He shouldn’t need to recall them. He would send a score of minions to destroy these new encroachers and be done with it. He reached out with his magics and placed the command into the heads of a group of Dasism in front of him. They looked up, bowed low, turned and blended into the trees without effort.

He looked at Essude and smiled a cruel smile. She knew what was to come, but waited for him to tell her. She would take crystals to capture any magics that these intruders had and return them to Kala, even if it meant taking their very souls. Which it always did. Her forked tongue licked thin lips in anticipation of the command.

The companions set camp early that day. They reached the river they had been heading for, but they were too far north and would have to cross it or travel south to bypass it. The cold rain made for miserable travel, and they were all ready for a rest and a warm fire. No dry wood would be found in this weather, a constant drenching rain, but Dawn would be able to start a fire, even if it were in a hurricane. They set up a lean-to and soon had a blaze going to warm them and dry their clothes. They tied the horses to a line outside and left them snorting and stamping.

“We will follow the river south,” Cyril said, “and head west once it ends. That should take us to the Ocean River, and then we have a choice. Do we travel around it to the north, or try to cross it to the south?”

“Which is quicker?” Rogen asked.

“I would assume crossing it to the south, but I am not sure if we have the equipment we need to do that.”

“My axe, rope, and a forest full of trees. We have it covered.” Rogen grunted, patted his gear, and moved out of the shelter to take care of personal business.

Dawn glared at Gruedo as the girl squeezed in beside her to get closer to the fire. Everyone’s mood was poor in the weather and travel, and conversation had dwindled. Cite yawned and sat on a log facing out into the chill wet, a thin stream of smoke rising from his pipe.

“I thought this was a haunted forest,” Dawn complained.

“It is, according to rumor and legend,” Cyril responded. “The fae that live here now kill any humans who enter the woods. Remember the wagon we found yesterday?”

“I do!” Gruedo said a bit too loudly as she grinned and patted the pouch on her hip.

“Yes, I remember,” Dawn said, her eyes narrowing at Gruedo. “She looted the corpses as we checked the supplies. I think she found stuff that she is not sharing. But I thought this wood had ghosts and evil things. The evilest thing I saw was the badger that stole the spoon that Gruedo poked him with.”

“It is haunted,” Cite said in a faraway voice. “I feel the spirits of the trees like I can feel you. The forest is dying, but from within. It has a magic here, a natural great magic. There is a sentience, it feels and thinks as surely as any of us do, but in a very different way. More like how a city or a society would do; it is a natural commune.”

Rogen returned as Cite spoke. He stared at Cite for a moment before he came into the shelter. “Can you tell us anything else, lad?” he asked.

“Not really. But I can feel general moods, and its mood is shifting. It seems it is becoming aggressive towards us. It knows we are here and didn’t mind, but it does now.”

“Have we done something to upset it?” Cyril asked.

Cite shook his head. “No, something else has affected how it feels, changing it. Any way it goes, I don’t think our journey will be as easy from this point.”

“You have done well; I will speak with Lord Jaeken and see what I can work out with him.” Duke Malvornick looked at Lord Father Alixin across the steamy room, dimly lit by dozens of candles. “What will be the next step?”

The nobleman leaned back in the hot bath, a young woman rubbing scented oils into his shoulders. The air was thick with pungent herbs that unbeknownst to his guest were also aphrodisiacs and mildly hallucinogenic. The middle-aged priest was on a wooden table, and another young girl was anointing him with curious oils that warmed the skin and made it tingle. His eyes were heavy and when he spoke, it was slow and muddled.

“I will have to begin an official inquiry,” the priest answered. He smiled at the girl as she took his hand and slathered an ointment onto the palm, her thin white wrap clinging to her lithe frame. She then did the same to the bottoms of his feet. Applying new lotion to her hands, the young woman removed his towel and began working on his legs and upward.

“Oh? How does that happen?” Malvornick reached up and drew the young girl tending his back to his mouth, kissing her and drawing her into the water.