Sword of Light (19 page)

His Master was standing next to his throne when Bruce entered.  Bruce was still aware of how much his Master was unlike the other demons.  Bruce approached him, kneeling when he came within a few feet.

“I have returned, Master.”  He said.  He felt a trickle of sweat work its way down his back as the demon lord studied him in silence.

“What have you seen?”  The demon finally asked.

“Creatos is dead, destroyed by Jake Thomas and his cleric friends.”  Bruce replied.

“Creatos had always considered himself greater than he was.”  The demon replied with a slight smile.  “Tell me all that happened.”

Bruce explained what he had witnessed in Creatos’ fortress, including the final battle.  “Jake held his own against Creatos throughout the battle.  He showed great power, but it was that final release of power that nearly destroyed Creatos.  He was struggling to recover, but was finished off by the cleric with the staff.”  Bruce finished.  “He is the most powerful cleric that I have ever seen.  He withstood the power of numerous Imps by himself.”

“I have had reports of this cleric from Sanduas.”  His Master said.  “I once thought he may be my old enemy in disguise, but no longer believe that.”  He sat down on his throne.  “It is time that something is done about him.”

“I will go, Master.”  Bruce said quickly.  “I am sure I can get close enough to kill him.”

“No.”  The demon lord replied.  “I doubt even you have the power to overcome him.”

Bruce gritted his teeth in frustration.  He had demonstrated his power more than once against those demons that questioned his abilities.  He glared up at his Master.

“Do you wish to try yourself against me again, my reluctant pupil?”  The demon lord laughed, joined in by the other demons in the room.  “If you try, I will not be as gentle as I was the last time.”

Bruce shuddered slightly, recalling the painful lesson that his Master had taught him.  He swallowed his pride, pushing down his anger.  “No, Master.”  He said tightly.  He repeated the line he had been taught.  “I live to serve you.”

“Good, for I have other plans for you.”  The demon lord stated.  “I want you to go to where the sword is being held.  I think it is time for it to move again.  You will find an innocent along the way to carry the sword and bring it back here.  I want it back under my protection.”

“Yes, Master.”  Bruce replied quickly.  “But if I may ask, what about the cleric?”

“Do not worry yourself about him.”  The demon lord declared.  “The cleric’s death is already moving towards him.”  He gestured towards the door.  “You may leave us.”

Bruce rose, bowing to his Master, and turned to leave.  He saw the other demons smirking at him as he walked away.  Fists clenched, he tried to keep his anger in check as he moved to the door.  He hated being laughed at.

“Bruce.”  His Master’s voice carried softly behind him.  He stopped and looked back.  “None of my brothers or our followers are to be harmed.  If I find out that you have disobeyed me in this, you will feel my wrath.”

“As you wish.”  Bruce replied tightly, turning and leaving the throne room. 
One day, I will make all of you pay.
  He thought to himself as he stormed out of the fortress.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Combined with the heat from the sun beating down, the dust, dung smell and the constant clanging of the cowbells from the seemingly endless herd began to wear on Jake.  He was standing next to Dontas, his right hand on the saddle pommel, his left hand grasping his swordhilt, squeezing it in frustration.  All he could see was a brown and black line of cattle, moving slowing along the opposite road, with the cattle drivers spread out and riding up and down the line, shouting and cracking whips to maintain order.

They were halted at a crossroads, a two-days ride west of Dunanty, standing in a crowd of travelers waiting as well.  Wilham had told them that they might run into the herders driving their cattle south to rich grazing lands to prepare for the approaching autumn.  Jake glanced under Dontas’ neck towards him.

Wilham was slim man in his early thirties, about Jake’s height, with light brown hair and dark eyes.  His face was plain, with a serious look that befitted his calling.  He had a slim scar that ran across his right cheek, leaving an empty furrow in his short beard, pale against his tan face.  He was dressed in the armor and green hood of a warrior cleric.

He was speaking quietly with several people, Hailyn standing next to him.  A steady stream of other travelers seeking healing or a cleric’s advice had approached them while they waited. 
At least they have something to do.
  Jake thought, bored.

They had waited in Dunanty for two days before Brother Kal had been able to arraign for permission for them to leave.  Jake and Hailyn had been invited to dine with him both nights, Jake letting Hailyn engage him in conversation, fearing that he would give away that he was not really a cleric.  Kal had taken his relative silence with good grace, glancing at him from time to time, but not saying anything.

It was when they arrived on the second night that Kal presented them with sealed letters and informed them that they would leave the next morning.

“The letters are from the queen.”  He had told them.  “If you are stopped by soldiers or need assistance, simply present these letters.  They inform the reader that you are traveling on behalf of the queen and, if presented, that person is forbidden to interfere with you and must provide any assistance needed, if asked.”

“Thank you, Brother.”  Hailyn replied.  “This is a great gift.  We had only hoped to be given leave to depart.”

“Well, before you thank me, there is a condition.”  Kal replied with a smile.  “A Beragan cleric will accompany you to ensure that, if the information is found, it is shared.  Now, I trust Jonas, but I agreed to satisfy the queen.”

“We understand.”  Hailyn responded politely.  “A local cleric should make the journey go faster since they will know the land, the people and their customs.”

“I thought the same.”  Kal said.  He looked over at Jake, a playful gleam in his eye.  “Once you are clear of the city, you can change back into your armor and wear your weapons.  We can’t have anyone coming up to you for healing by mistake.”

“How did you know?”  Jake asked, aghast.  He had been so sure that he had not given any hints that he was not a cleric.

Kal laughed, shaking his head.  “Jonas informed me in his letter.  He explained that you were not a cleric, but a soldier sent to protect Sister Hailyn.  He apologized for the deception, but wrote that he believed that you traveling as a cleric to the capital would avoid delays or questions of your intent.”  He paused.  “I think that I agree with him.  You riding here openly probably would have roused suspicions in the palace and made it much harder for me to secure your departure.”

“Won’t my armor and weapons still attract attention?”  Jake asked.

“You may attract some due to the fact that you are an outsider, but since it is clear that Sister Hailyn is not Beragan, you riding with her will not seem strange.  The sight of a soldier riding with a cleric is commonplace here.”  Kal replied.  “Also, you will be with Wilham, the cleric I am sending with you.  His presence will likely keep most questions at bay. ”

After dinner, they were introduced to Wilham.  He had responded to Kal’s summons, striding into Kal’s study, an air of quiet confidence about him.  He was polite, but serious.  He had been with the clerics since his mid-teens, becoming a warrior cleric after his apprenticeship.  He had traveled to the west several times and was familiar with the Crescent Hills and the land beyond.

The morning they left, with the sky cloudy and a cool northerly wind blowing, Kal had given them heavy cloaks with hoods, made of leather with a waxy coating on the outside.  “These will help keep you warm and dry.”  He had said.  “The weather can change rapidly on the plains, sunny and warm one day, stormy and cold the next.”

Following Wilham, they had ridden to the western road and kept a steady pace.  The road, cutting across the rolling plains, a light brown slice in the waving green grass, was made of hard-packed dirt, relatively smooth despite the many wagons and horses that traveled it.  They had spent the first night at an inn in a small village, waking in the early morning and riding on until the early afternoon, but now stuck by the cattle drive.

Jake, seeing the other travelers move away from Hailyn and Wilham, ducked under Dontas’ neck, and moved closer to them.

“How much longer are we going to be stuck here?”  Jake asked, his irritation clear in his voice.  “Can’t we ride around this somehow?”

“Have patience, Taric.”  Wilham said.  Jake and Hailyn agreed that he should continue to use that name with others.  “It may not seem it, but we will be on our way soon.”  He pointed to a cattle driver wearing a bright red cloth belt, sitting on a horse watching the herd.  “That is the cattle master.  He always rides near the end of any herd drive.  We should see the end shortly.”

“If you say so, Brother Wilham.”  Jake muttered.

The three stood there for another ten minutes until, finally, the last cows passed by, followed by several brightly painted wagons.  As soon as the road cleared, the mass of stuck travelers began moving west.  There was some cursing and shoving as they rode into another group of travelers heading east, the road clogged with horses and wagons.  Jake saw a small group of soldiers ride up and restore order.

Once the crowds dissipated somewhat, they mounted their horses and continued their journey.  Jake was relieved to be traveling again, his impatience fading as they rode.

“Once we reach Sulimn tonight, the road will become much less traveled.”  Wilham told them.  “Most of the towns and cities are east of Sulimn.  When we leave there, there will be only small villages along our path until we reach Kersant.”

As the sun was drifting low in the western sky, Jake noticed a long, dark smudge that seemed to rise from the plains, spreading across the horizon. He asked Wilham about it.

“Those are the Crescent Hills.”  He replied.  “They are still far off, but we should reach their base before nightfall tomorrow.”

The sun has just set, with a beautiful palate of reds and oranges painting the sky, when they reached Sulimn.  It was a small stone-walled town, set off to the north of the road, its main gate open.  There were four guards lighting watch torches as they entered the town.  The guards, dressed in leather armor and carrying long steel-tipped spears, as well as short clubs and daggers hanging from their belts, saluted Wilham, looking relieved to see him.  They gazed curiously at Jake and Hailyn.  Wilham nodded to the guards as they rode past.  He led them to a large inn, set near a small courtyard in the center of the town.  There was a large group of people milling about the courtyard.

As they dismounted, Jake noticed that the crowd in the street watching them, pointing and whispering.  Several of the closest came up to Wilham, looking somewhat confused by Hailyn’s presence, but still speaking with him, their tone soft and urgent.  Jake came over to stand with them.

“I heard about it as well.”  A middle-aged woman in fine clothes was frantically saying.  “There were tales of several bands of the crazed ones, some having demons with them, attacking the villages.”

“I saw one village, about a day’s ride north of here, with many homes burnt, its people scattered.”  A fat man dressed in the worn clothes of a laborer interjected.  “We did not stay to find out if the crazed ones were still around.”

“Crazed ones?”  Jake whispered to Hailyn.

“The Beragan description for half-men.”  She replied softly.

“Fear not, good people.”  Wilham announced loudly.  “Tonight, thanks to the One, you are safe.”  He gestured towards Hailyn.  “Sister Hailyn and I are here.  We will stand against any attack of the crazed ones or their masters.”

“What about the outlying villages?”  Someone in the crowd shouted.

“In the morning, I will go and investigate.”  Wilham stated, looking around, unconsciously gripping his sword.  “I will track down this band or bands of our enemies and put an end to them.”

Jake heard a collective sigh of relief from the crowd as they slowly began to disperse.  Wilham motioned them to follow him into the inn.

The inn was a far cry from the other places that they had stayed in.  While many had raucous halls, this one was half-full, the atmosphere subdued, a musician playing quietly in a corner.  The patrons looked over at them as they entered, many looking relieved at the sight, then returned to their quiet conversations.

The innkeeper, a stout woman with gray in her hair and a spotless apron on, refused to take payment for their rooms.  “At least I know that we are safe while you are under my roof.”  She told Wilham.

After they were shown their rooms, they went to a small, private room off the main hall to plan.  The room was plainly decorated with a fireplace in one wall and a small wooden table and four chairs in the center.  As they sat down, the door opened and a couple of serving girls brought food and drinks to them.  Once the girls departed, Wilham began.

“If the stories are true, I must track down these bands.”  Wilham stated.  “It is the warrior clerics’ sworn mission to provide protection to the people from the depredations of the demons.”

“We don’t have the time to spend looking.”  Jake said cautiously.  “If the demons find out that we are looking for the information, then they will move it to where we can never reach it.  We have to continue.”

Wilham frowned at that.  “Before the One, I have sworn to defend the innocent.  I have to know for sure before I can go any further.”

“And how long will that be?”  Jake asked directly.  “Days, weeks?”  He met Wilham’s eyes.  “We simply don’t have the time.”  He repeated softly.

Wilham nodded reluctantly, unhappy.  They sat in silence for a while, allowing him to contemplate their options.  He ate little, sitting slumped in this chair, his mind focused on the decision before him.  He finally roused himself.