Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) (15 page)

“The orcs are falling back again. The sun has fallen
below the horizon and they have had to turn back. First time I have wished for
the sun to drop during a battle,” Commander Nials said as he entered the room.
They keep going after our catapults much longer and we will not be able to hold
the line, though.”

Lepkin nodded. “I have never known them to be weak
minded, but this is far beyond the tenacity I have ever seen from them before,”
he said.

“It’s their chief,” Lady Arkyn said. Her hand
reflexively went up to caress the healing wound on her shoulder. “He won’t stop
until we are all dead. Worse than that, I think they have reinforcements
coming.”

“How can you tell?” Commander Nials asked. “None of my
scouts have reported anything like that.”

“They also haven’t been as close as I have,” Lady
Arkyn replied. “I spent the last several weeks evading them behind enemy lines,
remember?”

“With broken ribs, no less,” Lepkin put in for good
measure. “If you say you saw evidence of
reinforcements, that
is good enough for me.”

“Well, I am afraid I have good and bad news,”
Commander Nials said.

“What more is there?” Lepkin asked.

A scream from the room behind them halted the
conversation.

“If it wasn’t for her, we might not have any catapults
left,” Commander Nials said with a nod to the door. “Dimwater has been
extremely effective.”

Lepkin nodded. “Marlin is in with her, he says
everything is going fine.”

“I have seen it many times, the screaming is normal,”
Lady Arkyn said as she reached out to put a comforting hand on Lepkin’s arm.

“As I was saying, I received word from King Mathias.
There aren’t any more soldiers to spare for us. He says that he had to divert
significant resources to the north where the Tarthuns were trying to invade.”

“What of Grand Master Penthal?” Lepkin asked.

Nials shrugged. “It didn’t mention anything bad, so I
assume he still lives.”

“So what are we to do without reinforcements?” Lady
Arkyn asked.

Nials smiled. “I also received an advance letter from
an army of dwarves.”

“You received word?” Lepkin asked.

“Well, King Sit’marihu received it, but he relayed the
message to me as well.” Lepkin nodded his understanding then and Nials
continued on. “Apparently they collapsed some sort of underpass in the east and
vanquished a large Tarthun army. The dwarven force split after the battle. Half
went north to help Grand Master Penthal, and the other half will arrive to our
position tomorrow. Beyond the extra soldiers, they are bringing carts filled
with provisions to help us wait out the winter.”

“That is great news,” Lepkin said with a smile.

Another scream erupted from the room behind them.

“Do you need to go in there?” Commander Nials asked.
Lepkin regarded the man curiously. The commander’s face wore a somewhat
disturbed expression, as if the next room held a caged demon or some sort of
abomination. Lepkin had not expected to see the man so uncomfortable with the
idea of childbirth.

“She asked me to remain out here,” Lepkin said.

Another scream.

“Push, woman, push!”
Marlin
commanded.

“I’m… I’m going to go,” Commander Nials said. “I have
to settle the casualty count for the night and make sure everyone is accounted
for.”

Lepkin nodded.

“I can go in,” Lady Arkyn offered.

Lepkin shook his head. “She said she didn’t want
anyone in there who didn’t have to be.
Told me not to come in
until it was over.”

Lady Arkyn nodded. “Then I am going to turn in for the
night. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Lepkin offered her a smile and then began pacing back
and forth before the door. His mind raced in a million directions as he
listened to the commotion inside. Doubts and fear crept into his mind, but he
managed to shrug them off.
Though he wasn’t sure if it was
denial or actual confidence that forced the fears out of his mind.
The
battle raged in his mind until at last he heard the distinct cry of a newborn
baby.

“Hawwwwah!
Huh-hawwwaaaaah!
Hawah-wah-wah!
Waaaaaaah!”

Lepkin could wait no more. He burst in through the
door. His eyes wide he spied a messy pile of blood-soaked rags next to a basin
of steaming water. He then looked beyond that to see Marlin placing a small,
wrapped bundle into Dimwater’s arms. She was crying and smiling at the same
time. Sweat soaked her face and blood stained the sheets below her. The small
infant in the blanket started grunting and snorting as she held him close to
her.

Marlin stepped away and finished covering Dimwater
with a clean sheet. He looked up and smiled at Lepkin. “Everyone is doing just
fine,” he said. Then he turned to the two mid-wives that were with him and he
dismissed them to the hallway.

“Come here,” Dimwater said with a weary smile. “Come
see your son.”

Lepkin shuffled near the side of the bed and peered
over the soft, blue blanket to see a red-faced baby boy. He was blinking hard
against the light in the room, with little dark eyes grabbing onto both of
their faces and his brow furrowed into a cute little scowl.

“Judging by his face, I don’t know that he was ready
to come out,” Lepkin joked.

“I was more than ready,” Dimwater said. Lepkin bent
down and kissed her forehead.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” he asked.

Dimwater shook her head. “Just be here with us.”

Lepkin smiled and pulled a stool close so he could
cuddle next to them without causing Dimwater any discomfort. The two of them
spent the next few hours watching the infant as he learned to eat and then fell
asleep.

*****

Erik trudged through snow that was knee-high. If not
for the thick furs that the Immortal Mystic had given him, he was certain he
would have frozen to death by now. Even with the furs, his nose and eyes felt
as though they were turning to ice. Every breath in his nostrils stuck
together. Every breath out melted the scarf over his face only to have the
fibers refreeze to his skin. Even his eyelashes stuck together when he blinked.

If only the blue crystal could make fire, that would
have been useful! It didn’t, though. Erik had tried that the first night after
leaving. Not that that was so important though, considering his sword could
help him create a fire. It was more that he wished the crystal could warm him
while walking. It couldn’t though. In fact, it didn’t seem to do anything.
The second night, after making a campfire, he had tried to use his
power on it, but nothing happened.
For all he knew, it was just a blue
crystal that sparkled nicely in the sunlight.

The thought of the sun made him glance up to the west.
The sun was already dipping behind the mountains in the distance. It would be
dark soon. He began looking around for a place to settle in for the night. He
moved toward a large, thickly branched pine and pulled his sword free. He
climbed up into the tree and began cutting some of the lower branches off. He
left those that hung the
lowest,
he would use those as
a wind buffer. He spent the remaining daylight clearing snow from the boughs he
cut from the tree and then arranging them into a heap near the trunk of the
tree. Then he took his rope and tied the lowest branches in such a way that he
created a veritable wall of pine branches. It wasn’t perfect, but he was
shielded from snow fall and most of the wind was blocked as well. He then
pulled two blankets out from his pack. They were both made of a thick canvas,
though one was definitely softer to the touch than the other. The soft one he
stuffed into the center of the pile of branches. The coarser blanket he draped
over the pile. Then he burrowed into the branches he had cut.

His workmanship kept him warm through the night
without the need for a fire, though he certainly did his share of tossing and
turning. He was more than happy when the sun finally
peeked
its light into his shelter. He repacked the blankets and stuffed the rope back
into his pack and continued on. He ate while moving. His pack was filled with
enough bread to feed twenty men, so his stomach never went hungry for want of
food.

As he made his way down into the valley, the journey
became easier. The snow was not as deep as it had been farther north. There
were even occasional streams that were not entirely frozen over and provided
him the opportunity to restock his water supply.

He had expected to see Tarthuns along his journey, but
he never saw so much as a footprint. It was as if they had all disappeared. He
couldn’t say that he actually was displeased by that fact though. The last time
he had had a run in with them, he and Tatev had been kidnapped and Tatev was
murdered after the barbarians had tried to burn the Infinium.

Erik’s heart felt heavy then as he recalled Tatev. If
only he had done something. If he had used his power to scare the Tarthuns, or
maybe if he had been faster when they were first kidnapped. If he could have
stopped the man with the bone necklace, maybe Tatev would still be alive.

“No I wouldn’t,” a familiar voice said.

Erik jerked his head to the side and saw Tatev
standing next to him. The librarian was smiling, with his red, curly hair
bouncing slightly as they walked. “Am I dreaming?” Erik asked.

“Not this time,” Tatev said.

“So you are real?” Erik pressed.

There wasn’t anything you could do,” Tatev said. “It
was my time.”

Erik stopped walking and looked at the man. “I don’t
believe in fate,” he said defiantly.

“Whether you believe the sky is blue or not is
irrelevant. The sky is blue. Fate may not exist in its purest sense, but I had
a meeting with destiny. It was my time.”

“Why?” Erik asked. “What possible purpose could that
serve?”

Tatev smiled. “Have I ever told you about the Eyes of
Dowr? They were created by…”

Erik reached out to grab Tatev’s shoulders but his
hands went through the image.

“You can’t grab a spirit,” Tatev said. “It is widely
known that a spirit holds the intelligence from life but not the physical body.
It only retains a likeness of image, in those rare instances when a spirit can
be seen by mortal eyes.
Which, by the way is a rare trait.
It usually happens in times of great need, or when a person has developed the
skill to see those that have passed on.” Tatev raised a finger. “This skill by
the way is not to be confused with clairvoyance, or mediums. Many of those
people are nothing more than swindlers who use…” his words stopped and he
looked at Erik. “Where are my glasses?” he asked.

Erik sulked and shook his head. “They were lost.”

“I see. Well, then we must find them. I can’t go on
until we do.”

“What do you mean?” Erik asked.

Tatev’s spirit began walking. His head was focused on
the snow covered ground and he muttered something to himself that Erik couldn’t
hear. Erik watched the apparition search the snow for a few moments, wondering
if his mind was playing tricks on him or if Tatev actually stood before him. He
called up his power.

Tatev stopped and went rigid. He turned back to Erik
with a curious look on his face. “I am real, Erik.”

Erik’s mouth fell open. He had gotten so used to his
hauntings that he hadn’t actually expected Tatev to remain after he called up
his power. “Tatev…” Erik’s sentence fell away in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how
to say what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry,” he finished under his breath.

Tatev smiled and gave a quick wink. “Help me find the
Eyes of Dowr.”

Erik nodded and then Tatev’s image faded away. Tears
came to Erik’s eyes, but he was quick to wipe them away with his gloves before
they could fall and freeze on his cheek. He then pushed on, travelling westward
and hoping to find the large brook where he and Tatev had been kidnapped by the
Tarthuns. He walked for days, stopping just long enough to find or build
shelter as he made his way across the wintry valleys.

Tatev’s ghost came and went on occasion, but Erik was
unable to hold a conversation with him again like he had before. Now when he
saw Tatev the ghost was completely engrossed in searching for the Eyes of Dowr.
His head was always down and he seemed not to notice Erik at all. Erik was
unsure if it was Tatev’s sudden silence as compared to his former talkative
nature, or if it was the utter hopelessness he saw on Tatev’s face that
bothered him more. Erik couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was trapped in a
kind of hell, unable to move beyond the last thing that occupied his mind upon
death. This thought only served to magnify the guilt and shame he felt. Every
day he failed to reach the brook and find the Eyes of Dowr he felt less and
less capable of anything. Some mornings he struggled to rise from his sleep,
secretly wishing that a beast could have found him during the night and ended
his own suffering.