Spirit Past (Book 8) (15 page)

"So you were willing to die to save Shantree because there was no alternative?"

"That's not quite the way I would put it."

"Is there another way?"

Jure wanted to explain what he knew was in his mind the moment he decided to attack. In order to do so, he realized he would have to reveal his own beliefs, and in doing so, he understood Haven's original reluctance. It would be difficult to clarify his decision without a common frame of reference regarding such things as faith and Providence. Still, he thought he was making progress toward a possible answer and he did not wish to end the discussion.

"When I said I didn't have a choice, I didn't mean that there weren't other things I could have done. I could have tried to teleport away, or I could have attacked with a lesser spell. I could have called out for help. Or I could have done nothing at all, but none of that would have been acceptable. It was more of a situation where there was only one clear path, only one thing I could have done and still lived with myself."

"So you were hoping to avoid guilt?"

"In a way, but I was also trying to do what was right. You see, I think I was there, at that precise moment, for a reason. I don't think it was just random circumstances, but that I was guided there by a, I'm not sure what you would call it, so let's just say a higher power."

Haven smiled.

"Now we have a point of common appreciation," she suggested.

"So you understand what I'm saying?"

"I do. And I agree with you. I also believe that the same power that guided you to Shantree's side is not done with you. That is why you survived. And that is why you are here now."

"You think?"

Haven nodded.

Jure could not help but smile as well. He felt as if he had just received something  even greater than insight. He felt validated in his beliefs.

He would have liked to continue the conversation, but he saw the elder walking determinedly back toward them. He could not help but notice her bleak expression, and he was forced to refrain from further discussion with Haven. He also began to notice much more activity around the camp, and while the elves did not appear frantic, their movements revealed a newfound concern.

Shantree's tone was just as grim as her appearance. She foreshadowed any explanation with an apology to the human wizard, an apology he did not quite understand.

"I am sorry, Jure, but you were the reason the council requested a private meeting. It was a meeting you should have both attended."

"What's wrong?"

"There is a sickness spreading through the guards at the outer perimeter of the camp. Members of the council were not certain you should be included in such matters, but I believe your assistance will be needed. I need you both to come with me."

Shantree guided the two spell casters to the northwest, to an area where Jure noticed earlier activity. They came upon a quickly crafted hut made of tightly woven branches. It was far larger than those Jure had seen utilized for the storage of food or weapons.

Inside, Shantree revealed five elves stricken and unable to walk. They moaned slightly, but there was little movement. They appeared rigid, almost like fallen tree trunks caught in the mud and still rooted in the ground. Open sores covered their faces and arms.

The sickness was beyond anything Jure had seen before, but he had little experience with elf diseases.

"Are you familiar with this?" the wizard asked.

"No," Shantree revealed. "The sickness is unknown to us. They are stiff and unable to move. Only one was able to speak for a short period of time, but the paralysis spread and now she can no longer communicate, thus we are unable to determine if there are other symptoms."

"When did it start?"

"Just recently, all of these guards were at their posts. It manifested quickly. None of them displayed any signs of sickness earlier in the day. One called for help. We immediately constructed this shelter to hold them."

"The one that was able to talk, did she say anything about an attack?"

"No, and no intruders have been discovered. We have sent out additional patrols to..."

Before she could finish, Birk Grund entered the shelter.

"I have recalled the patrols," the captain announced. "Three more guards have fallen. They are being transported with the help of others. The disease is spreading and it stiffens the joints almost immediately. I cannot afford to have guards fall ill far beyond the borders of the camp. They would not be able to return and could fall prey to dark creatures."

"Has anyone seen anything?" Jure asked of the captain.

"There was a shag further off to the north. It has a den in the area. It leaves us alone. I sent a patrol to check on it. They located it in its den. The creature appears fine, but one of the guards on the patrol has already begun to show symptoms of the disease."

"We should start trying to heal them," Jure suggested.

"I have called for healers," Shantree acknowledged,  "but not knowing the source of the sickness will hamper our efforts."

Another elf guard staggered into the hut. Open sores covered his face and hands. He shuffled forward, determinedly forcing one foot forward and then the other, but his legs would not bend. They appeared as if they were made of wood. He was wheezing and his mouth could barely move, but he managed to whisper the fragments of a report. Birk appeared to understand, but the wizard was uncertain of the details.

"What did he say?" Jure asked.

"More are coming, and several have fallen ill at their posts," Birk explained as he helped the collapsing elf to a cot. "He's from the northern perimeter. The disease is spreading faster than I can recall my guard."

Jure realized the sickness was not some simple disease. It was quickly becoming catastrophic. Linking it to his own presence at the elf camp, he feared the worst. He called out to Shantree.

"Have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"No."

"I don't believe in this kind of coincidence," the human wizard revealed. "This has to be Reiculf."

"You believe he would strike with plague?" Haven questioned. "That would seem more like the work of draevols. They are plague mages and their skill with sickness is unmatched."

"We can figure that out later. Right now, we have to get Shantree out of here."

"I can not leave!" the elder objected.

"You have to. You're in danger."

"Then I should stay here until we know the true threat," Shantree objected.

"By then it could be too late."

Shantree took one long moment to consider every known detail. With absolute certainty, she revealed her decision.

"No, I have to stay. Our defense is based on Ansas' strategy and avoiding Reiculf's strengths. If it is Reiculf, he would not target me with the sickness, would he? He wants me alive."

"But we can't leave you in the middle of a plague. There's too much confusion."

"And sending me away would be just as dangerous. What would you do if you were Reiculf? I would create panic, and force a mistake. If I flee, I will be vulnerable, like I was before."

"I agree," Birk stated. "We almost lost her before because Scheff started a panic. If Reiculf wants to isolate her, this is the way to do it."

Before they could argue further, another elf guard entered the hut, but this one was not yet sickened in any obvious manner. The guard offered a quick report to his captain.

"All patrols have been recalled," the guard stated. "We have set two tight perimeters around the center of the camp. Most of the outer guard has been accounted for, but three members of a patrol to the west have not yet returned."

Birk knew he would have to retrieve the missing guards, but he needed to ascertain the status of the camp.

"How many elves show signs of disease?"

"Over a quarter of the camp is stricken. Many more are beginning to show the onset."

"Have any been healed successfully?"

"None that I am aware of."

An idea erupted within Jure, and he could not help but interrupt the report. He directed his first question to the elf guard.

"Do you feel any symptoms?"

"No."

"Good, because I want to cast a spell on you. If Reiculf is responsible, Shantree is right. He won't want her harmed. Haven might be right as well. This could be the work of draevols. If Reiculf is using their plague magic, then it would be cast to specifically avoid Shantree."

"What do you propose?" Birk asked.

"I can cast a spell that would mimic Shantree's magical essence, surround healthy guards with it. It could keep them from falling to the sickness."

The guard was immediately willing to accept the spell, but he looked to his captain for confirmation.

"Any dangers?" Birk asked before allowing the wizard to move forward.

Jure had to admit one.

"In a certain sense, he will appear as Shantree. That means it's possible he would be targeted as she would. Reiculf wants to seize her. If he uses plague magic to attempt to isolate her, he could mistake one for the other. That means he would be in as much danger as she is for possible abduction."

"Could that not work to our advantage?"

"It could cause confusion, but that's only a small possibility. I'm trying to create protection from the plague magic, not from Reiculf."

Birk asked if the guard was willing. After receiving affirmation, he directed the wizard to cast the spell. Once it was cast, the elf captain pressed for further assistance.

"How many can you protect with that spell?"

"Probably the whole camp," Jure advised. "It doesn't require a great deal of energy. It's just a simple mimic spell. But it won't help those already infected."

"I can help as well," Haven offered.

"I'd rather you conserve your energy," Jure advised. "Actually, I think we need to send a messenger to Connel, let Enin know what's happening here. You should teleport someone there as soon as possible."

"An excellent idea," Shantree agreed. "Birk, have all your healthy guards report to Jure. Once they are protected by the spell, deploy them as you deem necessary. We must assume that additional attacks are forthcoming. I will direct a messenger for Haven to send to Connel, and then I will work with the healers to aid those already stricken. If we assume the disease is being carried by draevol plague magic, then we have a better chance to fight it."

"A lot of this is all conjecture," Jure warned. "I'm not even sure my spell is going to protect anyone."

"If it does not, it really won't matter what we do, will it?" Shantree asked.

Jure agreed, but only to a point. If they weren't dealing with draevols or if his spell failed, the entire camp would fall ill. In that, there was no argument. Keeping Shantree from Reiculf, however, remained an absolute priority. He knew he would have to forcibly remove her from the camp before he allowed her to be taken. The prospect of taking her from her dying elves was not a subject he believed he should address at that time, but it was an alternative that he could not dismiss.

"No, I guess it won't," the wizard responded.

He prepared to cast spells to protect as many elves as possible, but he would keep enough energy in reserve to send Shantree to Connel, whether she agreed to go or not.

"How long is this going to continue?" Captain Klusac asked.

The delver believed he understood Klusac's concerns, but he needed to be certain.

"How long is what going to continue?" Ryson replied.

"I've got a giant rock monster..."

"Cliff behemoth," Ryson corrected.

"Yeah, I know. You told me that before, but from a distance he looks like a giant rock monster. And that's exactly what I'm talking about. He stands outside the gate. He's peaceful enough, sure, but every one in Burbon knows he's there. You can't miss him."

"He's protecting the town," Ryson offered. "That should make people feel better."

"It doesn't. It makes them nervous. They're asking why it's necessary. You told me why, but I can't make that common knowledge, now can I?"

Ryson considered how the people of Burbon would react if they knew the reason behind Dzeb's presence. He didn't like keeping them in the dark, but he knew they valued order and discipline. The cloud which hung over them was lined with chaos.

The delver knew Dzeb wasn't the problem. Under normal circumstances, the citizens of Burbon would probably grow to appreciate the stoic nature of the cliff behemoth, but they were not under normal circumstances. Beings of great power and questionable motives—Reiculf, Baannat, and Ansas—had thrown their influence into a growing conflict, and Burbon was being pulled from the fringes of that conflict and closer to its raging center.

"Can I?" Klusac repeated when the delver failed to answer.

"I don't know," Ryson admitted. "I guess you can't."

"You guess? You think the people are going be happy to hear that some demon master might come waltzing into town?" Klusac shook his head to emphasize his point. "And the reason this Reiculf might come here is because of that wizard who spends all his time in the taverns. Are you going to try and tell me this Neltus character makes people feel better? He's causing problems of his own."

"I've talked to him," Ryson responded.

"So have I... and on several occasions. He straightens up for a bit, but then he starts acting up again. All he does is eat and drink. When he drinks too much, he starts getting obnoxious... and showing off. He's pretty strong with that magic of his. People know it, and they're afraid of him. I don't need this. Burbon doesn't need this. You know that."

Ryson couldn't argue. Since the return of magic, Burbon had hardly been spared a moment's peace. The town had survived due to many aspects of its character, but Ryson could not deny that Burbon was in a state of upheaval.

Enin once called Burbon home, but he had moved on to Connel. Sy Fenden, the previous captain of the guard, made defending the town a righteous duty, but he had been killed in a goblin assault. Ryson himself vowed to protect Burbon, but just recently, he had been asked to leave by the very cliff behemoth who stood at the western gate. Even though he had returned, every person in Burbon knew he would leave again... and probably soon.

Klusac was right. Burbon didn't need any additional turmoil. Every citizen had been forced to adjust to severe changes, even when they abhorred change. They had shown remarkable resolve as they adapted to the consequences of one crisis after another. The strands of patience, however, were growing thin. There was a limit to what people would take, and the delver wondered if the citizens of Burbon had reached that threshold. The people of the small town needed a rest. Throwing Neltus into their midst was just one more irritant to wear at the town's resilience, but there was little the delver could do.

"It wasn't my idea," Ryson revealed. "Enin said he should stay here."

"Enin doesn't have to live with him," Klusac countered. "Enin doesn't even live here anymore. If Enin's concerned about this wizard, then I think Neltus should go to Connel and stay there."

"He can't. The plan is to keep them separate."

"Then send Neltus into the forest, or into the mountains."

"That could be a disaster. As frustrating as it is, we have to keep him safe. If he falls into Reiculf's hands, he could end up destroying the land."

"So you've said. And I've taken your word at that. That's why I'm putting up with this. Otherwise, I'd tell you, the rock man, and the drunken wizard to move on. I'm about ready to say that now."

Klusac stopped himself from saying anything further. He looked down one of Burbon's streets and took a deep breath. He reminded himself that the situation was at least somewhat stable, things weren't getting worse, but he also knew the townspeople had a limit to their patience.

Ryson allowed the new captain a moment to regroup. He stood silently as the soldier collected his thoughts. The delver believed he had to let Klusac lead, otherwise Burbon would eventually fall apart. Even if it meant altering Ansas' strategy, Klusac needed to have the final say on the well-being of the town he swore to protect.

The captain rubbed his hands together slowly and approached the problem from a position of simple timing.

"From what you've told me," Klusac began again, "Reiculf has the power to destroy us all. That means Burbon has a stake in this. I understand that. I'm willing to do my part. I believe this whole town is willing to do its part, but that brings me back to my original question. How long is this going to continue? At some point, some other town is going to have to step up. Right? I mean, Reiculf isn't going to limit his attacks to Burbon. He's going to attack everyone. That means other towns have an interest in keeping this Neltus clown out of Reiculf's hands."

"I can't argue with that," Ryson admitted.

"Good, because if there's a definitive end to this, I can hold the line with the people here. But I have to be able to give them something. We have to come up with a set plan. Maybe Pinesway will take him in a few days, or maybe we could send him to
Fort Nebran, or even into the Great Valleys. We just can't look after him forever."

"I doubt that will be the case," Ryson admitted, perhaps seeing a path forward to relieve the captain's distress. Unfortunately, he also revealed additional facts of an unpleasant nature. "Reiculf wants Neltus and he's not going to wait long, certainly not forever. One way or another, this will probably be over far sooner than we expect."

Klusac stared at the delver as he followed the logic of Ryson's claim to a distressing conclusion.

"So, in essence, you're saying we're not going to have to send Neltus away because this is all going to boil over while he's here?" the captain asked, stunned at his own words.

"I really don't know what's going to happen. I just meant to say that Neltus won't be here forever."

"Because Reiculf is going to come for him," Klusac finished the thought for the delver. "Does he know that Neltus is here?"

Ryson steadied himself. He couldn't lie to the captain, but the news wasn't going to be well received.

"Maybe not at this moment, but he will eventually. It's hard to explain—I don't really understand it myself—but the magic links Neltus with an infern that's under Reiculf's control."

Klusac's alarm turned to anger.

"And you're just telling me this now?! I thought we were hiding Neltus. I didn't know there were arrows pointing right to him!"

"It's not that obvious. There are these paths... it's kind of confusing, but it may take a long while before they find him."

"Or they could already know he's here!" Klusac countered. "What happens when Reiculf finally makes his move? What's going to happen when he comes for Neltus?"

As if to answer the captain's question, a soldier rushed into Klusac's office.

"Captain, the town's surrounded by... I'm not sure what they are, but there's a lot of them. They came out of the forest, out from around the hills to the south, and even out of the river."

Klusac wanted to explode with anger, shout obscenities at the delver until his throat was raw, but he focused on the safety of his town.

"Are we secure?" Klusac asked of the guard.

"All gates have been shut. No hostiles are inside the wall, and no guards or civilians have been caught outside."

"These hostiles, describe what you saw."

The guard didn't wish to hesitate, but he knew words would not go far enough in explaining what they faced. He did his best to paint an accurate picture of the confusion he witnessed.

"It's not just monsters. There are rogues, shags, lots of goblins, the big spiders, but there are also elves, some dwarves, even some humans."

"Humans?"

"Yes, sir, but they don't look right. They're moving slow... all of them, even the beasts. Most of them appear wounded, some pretty bad. Some of them were actually crawling. They're not fighting each other. They all seem intent on getting into town. Whether they came from the hills, the farms, or the trees, they're all just heading right for us. There are thousands of them."

The captain didn't want to doubt the soldier, but little of what he heard made sense. He needed more information, knew he had to see the situation for himself. He remained angry with the delver, but he needed Ryson's senses more than ever.

"Ryson, get over to the western gate and take a look. Scout out as much as you can, but don't go too far from the gate. I'll be following you. And make sure that cliff behemoth is inside the wall as well."

Just as Ryson took off, Klusac issued an order to a signal guard right outside his office.

"Get up on the roof. Signal all towers. Raise the alert to get all citizens home and send all guards to their posts. Defensive positions only. No engagement unless attacked or the wall is breached."

Klusac walked briskly out of his office and on to the streets. The delver was already out of his sight. He heard a thumping in the distance. It sounded as if it came from all over. He had little doubt that Burbon was once more under siege.

After leaving the guard post, Ryson raced at near top speed to the western wall. He reached the gate in mere moments and was pleased to find Dzeb already inside.

"What's going on?" Ryson asked, but his senses already gave him a good idea. He just didn't wish to believe what he heard... or smelled.

"An affront to Godson," Dzeb replied, clearly disgusted with what he saw before he stepped behind the town walls.

"I need to take a look."

Effortlessly, Ryson climbed up the wall near the edge of the gate. Moving past soldiers on the wall walk, he looked over the battlements to inspect the scene both at the base of the wall below and across the clearing to the trees of
Dark Spruce Forest.

The delver was not as surprised as the guards in what he saw, for he had experience with the ghastly foe they faced. Unfortunately, his delver senses amplified the horrible stench rising up from the massive horde, as well as the thumping echo that came from their pounding upon Burbon's wall.

A sea of rotting corpses pressed against the barrier. They lacked the ability to climb over one another, so they just kept pushing forward in a vain attempt to get inside. Little to no progress was made, but the horde showed no sign of stopping.

The soldier who described the scene to Klusac and Ryson was accurate in his description. The multitude included a variety of races and breeds. Goblins far outnumbered the others, but there were still a surprising number of shags and river rogues.

More and more kept coming forward, all in different stages of decay. Most limped forward on two legs, but several staggered forward on whatever limbs were sturdy enough to carry them.

Within the mix of dark creatures, there were also bloat spiders and hook hawks. Their movements revealed their state of decomposition. None of the hawks could fly. They just lurched forward on clawed feet, flapping their wings and sending blood crusted feathers into the air. The spiders appeared almost drunk, skittering back and forth and side to side, barely making any progress toward the wall at all.

Perhaps the most disturbing sight was witnessing dead elves, dwarves, and humans walking within the horde of dark creatures. They staggered alongside of goblins and river rogues, in front of bloat spiders, and even leaned into shags. They showed not the slightest concern for walking among monsters that would normally attack them on sight, but the legion did not fight amongst themselves. They shared a common bond. They were all dead.

Ryson's eyes watered as the stench grew stronger. He held his breath for as long as he could and then forced shallow breaths through his mouth. He raced along the top of the wall to the north corner and then back to the south, scanning the horizon in all directions. He returned to the west gate and paused to gauge the momentum of the undead horde.

The wall beneath his feet rumbled at the pounding, but he believed it would hold, at least for a while. The corpses were still beating upon the barrier with their limbs as opposed to pressing against it with the full might of their numbers. The clearing around the wall was filling up, and Ryson could see more coming out of the forest and from around the hills.

Leaping to a nearby watch tower, Ryson climbed up on the platform where Captain Klusac had taken a position. He readied a report, but waited for Klusac's order.

The captain looked down upon the legion stumbling toward his town. He tried to keep the assault in perspective, tried to ignore the seemingly unfathomable nature of his enemy. He had lived through attacks by goblins, river rogues, shags, giant insects, even dwarves, but he never imagined he would be surrounded by an army of moving corpses.