Spirit Past (Book 8) (18 page)

"What kind of mistake?"

"If he has attacked here, he may have..."

Ansas was interrupted by a knock at the door. A guard sergeant appeared before them with surprising news. An elf messenger had been teleported to the outskirts of the city. The elf had sought an audience with Enin. Based on the activity in the farmlands, the town guard decided to react cautiously to the request.

Enin directed the sergeant to bring the elf messenger to him immediately.

"I have a message from Shantree Wispon," the elf began. He had no parchment. Instead, he spoke it from memory. "Plague magic has descended upon our camp. The disease is spreading quickly and many elves have fallen ill. We have been unable to identify the source or isolate the underlying sickness. Jure is working on a possible spell to counter the attack."

"That's it?" Ansas asked.

"That is the end of the message."

Ansas rose from his chair and moved quickly to a window. His entire demeanor had changed. For whatever reason, the news from the elf invoked far more concern than the attack of inferns. He looked through the glass, but ignored the scene in front of him. He had no interest in the city of Connel, but Dark Spruce Forest suddenly became very important.

"How many of your camp have fallen ill?" the sorcerer asked sternly.

"Over one third," the elf messenger answered.

"And your leader, Shantree Wispon, she intends to remain with your camp?"

"She does."

"Very good. Now, about this spell to counter the sickness, do you know what the old human wizard has planned... how he will counter the effects of the plague?"

"I do. He believes the sickness is designed to avoid Shantree Wispon. He is utilizing a spell to mimic the elder's energy and place it around every elf that has not yet been infected. He cast the spell upon me before I left."

Ansas turned away from the window. He looked upon the elf messenger as he considered Jure's actions. It irritated him to do so, but he actually gave the wizard credit.

"I don't like that old fool," the sorcerer admitted. "He is too sensitive and much too passive for my liking, but he has acted far wiser than I could have ever expected."

"You think Jure's plan will work?" Enin questioned.

"Yes, I do," Ansas confessed. "He can't do anything to help those who have already fallen sick, but he will prevent the plague from spreading. This will buy us important time."

"How can you be so sure? Without knowing the source, plague magic is difficult to contain."

"Certain assumptions become obvious," Ansas revealed, his voice nearly trembling with growing excitement. "Reiculf has established the location of his objectives. He knows you're here, and he knows Shantree remained with her camp. It is clear he has chosen Gnafil to lead inferns to draw you out of the city. We might not have located the half-demon, but Gnafil is outside of Connel. I'm sure of it."

Ansas looked to the wooden slats that comprised the floor of the study. Upon examining the interlocking boards, he contemplated the surrounding lands and how they fit together. While looking at the blank floor, he placed an image in his mind of the region in question. He thought of Connel, Burbon, and the forest to the west.

"Dark Spruce is another matter," he continued. "Reiculf has decided to utilize plague magic, probably that of a draevol, to decimate the elf defenses. The difficulty is determining which of Reiculf's remaining pawns is directing the attack. It could be the serp, or it could be the elf spell caster. I have my suspicions, but I must be sure."

"But how do you know Jure's plan to help the elves will work?" Enin persisted.

Ansas glared at Enin with slight disgust. He found it tiresome that he had to explain what was obvious.

"Reiculf will not want the elf elder damaged in any way. It would only serve to weaken her, and he intends to use her—as he would hope to use you. His link to her is through the remnants of my magical energy. The plague will have been fabricated to avoid that energy. Unless Jure is totally incompetent, which I believe he is not, then he will succeed in mimicking the elder's signature. The plague will then avoid all those surrounded by such an aura. If you look closely at this messenger, you can see it for yourself. Do you understand now?"

"What of the elves already stricken?" Holli demanded.

"As good as dead," Ansas replied without emotion.

"Nothing can be done?"

Ansas groaned loudly as he peered at the elf in disbelief.

"Are you now going to be just as weak as the others?" the sorcerer questioned.

"Do you mean to ask if I will fail to keep my focus solely on Reiculf and instead concern myself with the suffering of others? If that is your definition of weak, then you may place the brand upon me. I will not simply dismiss the sick elves as the misfortunes of war. There are no acceptable casualties."

"Then you do not appreciate the foe we face."

Holli would not agree. She did not underestimate the vast power of the daokiln, and she also understood why the demon could not be allowed to win, could not be allowed to gain control of additional pawns. She also, however, realized that the line between right and wrong could never be erased without dire consequences. Every time that line was blurred or moved ever so slightly to justify some questionable action, it tended to have a permanent effect on what would be tolerated in the future. Reiculf was the essence of evil, but fighting him did not excuse deeds of dishonor or even sins of complacency

"What do we gain if we defeat Reiculf but become no better than the demon lord in the process?" Holli questioned in her own defense.

Ansas almost laughed. He had become much more animated since the arrival of the elf messenger, and he welcomed the challenge of debating Enin's apprentice.

"If you wish to have a philosophical argument, so be it. I have the time. We can not move until I am sure about certain matters. As to your question, I can not argue the point, but you begin with a false premise. You are already like Reiculf."

"I do not accept that."

"Then you do not understand the daokiln. He is nothing more than the sum of what you made him."

Enin interceded to end the argument.

"Reiculf's true essence is not the issue. We can not simply abandon the elves."

Ansas found the assertion baffling.

"You wish to waste time on insignificant matters?"

"The elves are not insignificant, and it is not a point of contention. You will do as I say, or I will return you to Baannat myself."

Ansas stared at Enin with contempt. He almost challenged the wizard, but to do so would mean losing focus on his own strategy. He would not be baited into a mistake, not when he was so close to a major victory of his own.

"Very well, but know this, I see an opportunity forming. I believe we will obtain one more piece of critical information very soon. Once I have that information, we will have a chance to severely damage Reiculf's current influence."

"How so?"

"As I said to you before, our goal is not only to keep Reiculf from gaining additional pawns, but also to take away those he already has under his control. If we can..."

Once again, the sorcerer was interrupted by a commotion at the study door. Neltus burst into the room and quickly addressed Ansas.

"He's attacking Burbon!"

The sorcerer did not have to ask who was behind the attack. Ansas immediately realized that Reiculf had also set his sights on the small human town that bordered the forest. It was what he expected. The daokiln had made a large miscalculation.

The sorcerer's pulse quickened as he knew a path was opening before him. With but a few more scraps of information, he would have his opportunity.

"What is he using in the assault?" Ansas demanded.

"He has animated the dead. It began with a legion of goblins, shags, rogues, humans, elves and some others. They surrounded the town but were stopped at the wall. An undead thrastil is lurching through the forest. I remembered what you told me..."

Enin immediately stopped the conversation.

"Ansas gave you information in secret?" the wizard questioned harshly.

"It was necessary," the sorcerer growled, obviously annoyed by the interruption.

The wizard dismissed Ansas' apparent irritation. Displeased himself that Neltus and Ansas were sharing considerations without his consent or his knowledge, Enin demanded an explanation.

"Exactly what was necessary?"

"I told him to teleport to me the moment that little town we stuck him in came under a major attack. He had to be certain it was a significant assault and not a feint. He was right to come here as he did. I now have all the information I need."

"Then tell me what's going on!" Enin insisted with outrage.

"Reiculf has made an error... one that offers us the opportunity I spoke of. Reiculf has three individuals he utilizes to spread his magic beyond Demonspawn; Macheve, Scheff, and Gnafil. Gnafil is here, near Connel. That can not be disputed. Who else would use demon flames and other inferns to attack us? But it appears Reiculf deployed the other two as well in hopes of taking his three objectives at once. It was what I hoped when I sought to separate you."

"What is the opportunity?"

"We converge on the elf camp. That is where Scheff is, and he will be the easiest to free from Reiculf's influence. He is probably struggling the hardest against the daokiln. That will help us. I also know the elf spell caster's limitations and his abilities. If we can combine our forces, we have the opportunity to remove Reiculf's hold over the elf."

"How can you be certain Scheff is attacking the elf camp as opposed to Burbon?" Holli questioned. "Is this still not conjecture on your part?"

"No, it isn't. The serp is a creature of control. Her greatest power is to take over the actions of surrogates and use them against her opponent. She might have been placed in control of a draevol, but it was unlikely. It is much more likely she would use Reiculf's power to raise the dead and use them as her army. Who but a serp would relish the chance to lead such a legion?"

"And Scheff?"

"He holds the power of the storm. What is the plague other than a storm of disease? The elf might have wanted to attack with wind and lightning, but he couldn't guarantee the safety of the elf elder. The spread of the plague is like the breath of the wind. No, I am quite certain where they all are. Gnafil is here, Macheve is striking Burbon, and Scheff is near the elf camp. Scheff is the one I want."

"Even if he is alone," Holli stated, "Scheff is still embodied with the power of Reiculf. I doubt even Enin could stand for long against such power. You said as much yourself."

"We certainly do not send Enin alone. That would defeat everything we have accomplished. We will all go to the forest, to the elf camp. We combine our powers with those already there. We are most fortunate Reiculf deployed his minions in the fashion he chose. Jure and the elf sorceress, Haven Wellseed, are already there. Combined, we will have sufficient power to do what is necessary."

"What about the inferns surrounding Connel?" Enin asked. "We can't simply abandon the city."

"The inferns are not attacking the city," Ansas sighed. "They are in the farmlands. Tell the town guard to meet the inferns in the field."

"But soldiers will die."

"Fine, then tell them not to engage. It isn't necessary. Just do enough to occupy the half-demons, distract them."

"And what of Burbon?" Holli added. "If we all go to deal with Scheff, that leaves Burbon alone to face the undead legion... and an undead thrastil! The town will fall."

"Burbon is not our concern, but if it makes you feel any better, Burbon is guarded by a force far more powerful than any undead thrastil. That town is probably safer than the rest of us."

Holli looked to Enin for confirmation.

"Does he speak the truth?" the elf questioned.

"I believe so," the wizard admitted. "I've had my suspicions for some time, but this confirms it. Ansas' power over alteration would allow him to sense such a thing."

"Confirms what?"

"Now is not the time to discuss it."

"He is right," Ansas declared. "If this is to work, we must act quickly. Do not fret elf. You are getting your wish. If we deal with Scheff successfully, we should then be able to deal with the plague and save your precious elves, even the ones already sickened. We must not waste this opportunity."

"He left," Ryson explained to Klusac as the delver leapt up to the western tower platform.

"Neltus?"

"Yeah, he teleported away."

Initially, anger and disgust flooded the thoughts of the guard captain. When considering the power at Neltus' disposal, Klusac could not imagine a more pathetic display of cowardice. He would have loved to hunt down the magic caster with every available scout. He didn't care about magic spells or teleportation. He just wanted the wizard found and soundly thrashed for abandoning Burbon.

Despite the burning desire to hound Neltus throughout every tavern across Uton, the captain couldn't let his feelings toward the portly wizard interfere with the defense of the town. Neltus might have been a coward and deserving of contempt, but he was also the reason Burbon was under attack. In the eyes of some demon master, Neltus was a prize. With the wizard gone, many aspects of the situation changed, and Klusac was forced to reexamine his strategies.

"Can't this help us? These dead things are here because they're trying to get to Neltus. If he's gone, they'll leave, too. Won't they?"

"I don't know," Ryson confessed. "I don't know how strong the connection is between them all. It's obvious they figured out Neltus was hiding here, but that doesn't mean they know he's already left. I don't know if they can follow each other's movements immediately, or if it takes some time. I just don't know."

"Is there a way we can make it known?"

"I don't think those things down there will understand anything we say."

"I don't mean them. Someone has to be in control of these things, right? We let him know."

In control?

Ryson questioned the entire concept. With walking corpses filling every available space in front of the wall, he wondered if anyone was really in charge. Reality seemed to twist in absurd directions with each new struggle. The raising of the dead did not inspire confidence in sound reason or structured harmony. It reeked of chaos.

As for who was in control of the undead legion, it was probably Reiculf, but he couldn't be certain the daokiln had taken personal command. It could have been one of Reiculf's pawns. And even if Ryson knew who was behind the attack, how could he communicate that the wizard had teleported away? Simply shouting out that Neltus was gone wouldn't work, and he had no idea where to send a messenger.

He also wasn't sure how easy it would be to turn back an army of the undead. It was possible the corpses were given their instructions when they were animated. Maybe they intended on destroying Burbon whether Neltus was there or not. If Reiculf was ultimately behind the attack, and that seemed likely, then he would enjoy ravaging Burbon for any reason.

The one thing the delver knew for certain was that they couldn't afford to wait around to see if the undead would leave of their own accord. Every undead creature had to be removed from the wall... immediately.

"We're not going to have the time," Ryson explained. "We have a bigger problem. We have to clear out these corpses. Right now."

Klusac could see and hear desperation in the delver. It was painted on Ryson's face and etched in his voice. Klusac sensed that Neltus turning tail and running was nothing more than a minor inconvenience compared to whatever new peril threatened Burbon.

"What else has happened?! What's changed!"

"Deeper in the forest... a thrastil is coming... an undead thrastil."

"I don't know what that is!" Klusac admitted, shouting over the thunderous pounding of the undead creatures below.

"It's a nightmare—the body of a scorpion with the head of a crocodile—but it doesn't end there. It's big, very big; taller than this tower and wider than the largest storehouse we have in town. It'll crash through the wall with ease. "

"Can we stop it?"

"I honestly don't know. I saw one once. It was killed by powerful magic, but I'm not sure if even that would work on what we're facing. It's already dead, that means we have to do enough damage so it can't move. It won't be easy, but with Dzeb's help, we may have a chance. We have to try, but we have to clear out these creatures first. We can't be battling them both at the same time, and we can't let the thrastil make holes in the wall and allow the undead to rage through the town."

"How much time do we have? How far away is this thing?"

"Not sure. I know it's not that close, otherwise I'd hear it or smell it by now. But it has to be close enough for Neltus to have seen it with his spell. That's why he left. We have some time, but not a lot."

Faced with a growing threat and an undead monster he could barely imagine, the captain wiped all other concerns from his mind. He knew Ryson was right. They had to clear the wall, and it had to be done without delay. With Neltus gone, it was up to his soldiers... and whatever other assets he could deploy. He put aside any prejudices and requested help from all possible sources.

"Alright, but you're going to have to talk to your giant. I'm going to muster all of my soldiers at this position as soon as possible. I'm going to open the gate, but I need your big friend to clear a space around the entrance. Once we establish a foothold outside the wall, we can work our way around the clearing, destroy as many as possible. Do you think he'll do it?"

"I'll ask him."

"Make it quick. I'm going to give the signal to assemble here."

Ryson raced down the tower ladder and over to Dzeb. He looked up to the cliff behemoth and hoped he could persuade his gentle friend to attack. The delver had seen the giant fight on previous occasions, but that didn't create a guarantee. Dzeb's dedication to his faith made any request for battle a suspect proposition.

"Dzeb, we need your help."

"What would you have me do?" Dzeb asked, seemingly willing to assist in whatever course was necessary to help the town and its people.

"The soldiers are going to have to go out there and clear these things away, but they're going to need help. They need you to make a space in front of this gate. These corpses... we have to damage the bodies enough so the magic will leave them. If we don't do this, they'll get inside the wall. We can't let that happen."

"Say no more, Ryson Acumen. These things are an abomination. I will happily do what is necessary."

Relief swept through the delver. With Dzeb's aid, he knew they would be able to clear most of the space around the wall. Given ample time, the giant could probably complete the task by himself. With Ryson and the soldiers working in concert with the cliff behemoth, they might actually succeed. It all depended on how much time they had... how long before the real menace arrived.

Thinking of the monstrosity that was somewhere out in the forest, Ryson knew he had to tell Dzeb what would follow.

"There's an undead dead thrastil coming as well," the delver revealed.

For the first time, Ryson believed he saw apprehension in the expression of the behemoth. The uncertain reflection appeared so uncharacteristic, the delver almost stepped back.

Dzeb's face nearly always revealed emotion, from uncomplicated joy to raw disappointment. Usually, the giant's features held the peaceful calm and harmonious acceptance of his unconquerable beliefs. Looking at Dzeb often offered a glimpse of untainted tranquility.

It was reassuring to see such unwavering faith, but Ryson had also seen anger and determination in the giant's eyes, especially when Dzeb faced those he believed threatened the peaceful existence of others.

What the delver could not recall was ever seeing a look of torturous doubt. That one expression raised more concern than all the wailing groans of the undead or their incessant pounding on the wall.

"Do you think we can stop it?" Ryson questioned, suddenly filled with even greater uncertainty.

"If it is Godson's will," Dzeb finally replied.

The rather vague statement was not nearly sufficient for the delver. Dzeb might have been able to communicate in some mysterious way with Godson, but Ryson could hear no comforting voice in the wind. He needed more from the giant.

"Do you have any ideas on what we should do?"

Dzeb remained silent as he took a long look into Ryson's face.

"Dzeb?" Ryson pressed.

"I will follow your lead, Ryson Acumen. You have always found a way. I have faith you will do so again."

It wasn't what the delver wished to hear. He had no idea how to fight a thrastil, living or dead. He had hoped the giant's strength would give them at least a chance, but Dzeb was ready to move on faith in Godson... and apparently a faith in Ryson. The delver found such sudden weight terrifying.

Before he could say more to the behemoth, Ryson heard Klusac call out.

"Ryson! We're almost ready. Will the giant help?"

"He'll do whatever he can," the delver answered as he moved to the captain's side. "I've asked him to keep the entrance clear after we open the gate. Once he goes through, there should be plenty of room for your soldiers to fall in behind."

"Where will you be?"

"I'll go over the top of the wall. I'm betting once the gate is opened, those things will start moving toward it. A space will open up somewhere. I'll jump down and start working through the crowd."

Klusac nodded in agreement. He didn't wish to contain the delver. To do so would be like shackling a horse during a joust. It was an unnecessary impediment and a waste of the delver's greatest abilities.

Realizing he faced the first major encounter under his leadership, the captain decided to ask for counsel. He didn't want his soldiers to think of him as too cautious or indecisive, but foolish pride led to errors in judgment. If he was to command the entire guard of Burbon, he would do so with a mind to their best interests and not his own.

"Any advice?" the captain asked of Ryson. "You've dealt with these things before. How should we attack?"

Again, it appeared as if a far greater responsibility than the delver ever desired had been thrust upon him. Burbon's captain of the guard requested a suggestion for tactics in front of nearly every soldier. Ryson didn't want the outcome of battle hinging on his advice, but too many eyes looked to him for encouragement and too many ears listened for words of wisdom. He started talking before he could appear confused or hesitant.

"Have them go after the limbs. I know it's not what they've been trained to do, but I think even if you knock the heads clean off, those things will keep coming. The biggest advantage we have is they're already in a state of decay. They're not very durable, so it won't take much. Remind them that everything out there is already dead, even the humans. Strike everything quick and hard. We can't hold back."

"Very well. I will spread the word. We'll be ready in a few moments, and then I'll signal for the gate to be opened."

Ryson wanted to go back to his discussion with Dzeb, but the cliff behemoth had moved into position behind the gate. There were too many soldiers around, and Ryson couldn't afford to create any further doubt in their minds. What they faced was daunting enough without adding talk of whether it was even possible to defeat the coming thrastil. And he certainly didn't want the soldiers rallying around some idea that he would lead them to victory.

He put aside his fears over the approaching thrastil. With only an initial plan of attack, he would have to focus on the undead monsters around the wall. At least he didn't have to worry about killing them. As he had informed Klusac, they were already dead.

He leapt back up to the top of the wall. He pulled the two war blades from their sheaths at his hips. The curved blades were not long, but they were sturdy. He would be fighting in close quarters and a blade in each hand would allow him to do as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time. He did not savor the coming conflict. The fight would be as grim as it was grisly.

As Ry
son looked over the throng still beating upon the wall, he considered his own strategy. Speed would keep him alive, but he also had to work with the soldiers. Efficiency in movement was just as important as avoiding the grasp of any undead monster.

With the guard ready to open the gate, Ryson took one last moment to focus beyond the waiting throng. He sniffed the air as he attempted to find traces of an odor beyond the unimaginable stench of the undead legion; no simple task. He also tried to hone in on a disturbance further in the distance, to hear the sound of cracking trees over the pounding on the wall under his feet. Again, it was not easy, but he believed he could finally hear the snapping of large trunks and the crashing of falling limbs far off to the west. The thrastil was indeed on its way.

Just as the delver returned his attention to the shifting mass below him, the soldiers pulled open the gate. A myriad of undead creatures spilled through the opening, but their incursion past the wall was short-lived. Even as dozens of the moving corpses took unsteady steps passed the threshold, they were met by a mighty hand that swatted them back with such force that the throng actually fell back away from the gate.

Dzeb moved with surprising quickness. Despite his size, his arms slashed through the mob like the blades of a windmill in a gale force storm. With one blow, he crushed shags and goblins alike, smashed their decaying bodies into near dust. River rogues flew across the clearing; their thick, scaly skin remaining intact but their bones pulverized within their folding carcasses.