The Jake Thomas Trilogy: Book 02 - Sword of Light (22 page)

Dominic realized that the close proximity of the rocks would prevent Shadow from effective maneuvering, so he slid from the horse, rolling to his feet and seeing the two men racing forward.  He drew his dagger and met their charge.  He slipped past the first man, deflecting his blade, and then drove his dagger into the throat of the second man.  Releasing the dagger as the man collapsed, he spun and engaged the other man.  His opponent was good, his sword moving quickly, but Dominic charged into his guard, the man’s sword deflected by his breastplate and smashed his forearm into the man’s face.  As the man staggered back, Dominic’s sword was already moving.  His thrust caught the man between his throat and the top of his armor.  The man collapsed, blood pulsing from the wound.

With no other followers near him, Dominic ran forward.  He caught a glimpse of a demon ahead.  He bounded off a short rock near the demon and leapt forward, sword overhead, point down.  The demon, which was directing its followers, must have heard his approach.  It spun, dark power coursing around its body.

Time seemed to slow for Dominic.  He saw the black fire gather in the demon’s hands, then launch towards him.  He knew that he could not avoid the blow. 
Embrace the pain.
  He grimly told himself, praying his momentum would allow him drive his sword home before he died.

Just as the demon fire reached his body, brilliant golden-white light burst from his sword.  The light shattered the demon’s attack, overwhelming its dark power.  Before the demon could react, Dominic’s sword slammed into its chest, the glowing blade sizzling as it slid in.  The demon screamed once, then convulsed, exploding into ash, driving Dominic back.

He stared at his sword for a moment, the blade normal again. 
It had to be Tomaris.
  He thought, recalling the old man handling his sword. 
He should have given me some warning.
  That sudden light has startled him so much that he had almost dropped the sword.

Shaking off his thoughts, he surged back into the fight.  Another demon fell to his sword, the light flaring again, and then he was engaged with three of the demons’ followers.  He was using all of his skill to keep their blades away, his single blade a blur as he parried their blows.  Suddenly, a spear point thrust from behind him on his left, taking one of his opponents in the stomach.  Another spear flashed past him on his right, knocking the other man back, followed by Stonebuilder with his sword in his hand.

“Hold!”  Dominic heard Moshanna shout behind him as he finished the man in front of him with a couple of swift blows.  Dominic turned around to see the remaining two demons retreating with what was left of their followers into the stones across the route, deflecting the clerics’ attacks as they fled.

Dominic saluted Stonebuilder and the other soldier that had come to his aid.  He whistled, calling Shadow.  The horse made its way through the rocks back to him.  Dominic swung into the saddle and rode forward.  He saw that two of the soldiers were dead, burned down by the demons.  The clerics were all unharmed, moving around healing the wounded.

Dominic rode over to Moshanna, who was inspecting the body of one of the fallen demon followers.  He was unharmed, his skill with the sword protecting him.

“Anything useful?”  Dominic asked.

Moshanna stood and shrugged his shoulders.  “This man was Aletonian, but was not under the demons’ power.  I have heard that some serve willingly, but this is the first time I have faced one such.  There is nothing on him to give any clues, but I’m not sure I like what it portends.”

“We will probably face more troubling things tomorrow, if the sword is in the ruins.”  Dominic said quietly, gazing towards the setting sun.  “Let’s move off and find a safe place to camp.  We will all need our rest before tomorrow.”

…

Far to the north and west, where the sun was still well above the horizon, a hooded and robed figure sat in the woods, watching.  Bruce Tilia needed to find someone who could carry the sword and this looked to be a likely spot.

While he sat on his horse waiting and watching, he shifted uncomfortably.  Something about these woods reminded him of Anderson Grove back home.  He could not tell what it was, maybe the trees, but it brought back memories.  Even though he hated those memories, they still came, unbidden and unwelcome.

He had been awkward as a teenager, thin, gangly and a bit of a klutz.  His interest in sci-fi and fantasy over sports identified him as a geek.  When he finally hit puberty, his reward was a bad case of acne.  His family had struggled to make ends meet, so he never had the cool clothes and a car was out of the question.  He had a couple of friends, geeks like him, but he always desired what he perceived as the good life of the rich kids.

Unfortunately, that was never to be.  Despite his best efforts to fit in, Tim Masters and Joe Wallace had made high school a living hell for him.  Tim played baseball and was considered one of the best looking guys in his class, tall with blond hair and blue eyes.  His friend Joe, dark-haired and shorter, spent his free time in the weight room and was known as quite the lady’s man.  They ridiculed Bruce at every chance, pulling cruel pranks on him and humiliating him in front of the girls.  The pivotal moment came after he had summoned the courage to send Sally Hill, a pretty and popular girl in his math class whom he had desperately wanted to date, a note asking her out.

To his surprise, he received a return note, signed by Sally, asking him to meet her at Anderson Grove after school.  She explained that her friends would never understand, so she wanted to meet him privately.  Such was his excitement over her response that he never considered it was anything but an honest reply.

He had walked out to the Grove, constantly checking himself to ensure he looked his best.  He went to the spot where she said to meet her, getting there early.  He was thinking about what he should say, gathering his courage, when a familiar voice startled him out of his contemplation.

“What a dumbass!”  He heard Tim’s voice sound from the trees nearby.  His heart sank as he saw Tim and Joe walk out of the Grove.  Tim was looking at him with a cruel gleam in his eyes.  “Did you really believe that someone like Sally would actually be interested in you?”  He spat contemptuously.

“You are such a retard!”  Joe said, a smirk on his face.  His hands curled into fists.  “I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass.”

Bruce sprang to his feet, backing away.  He knew his only options were to fight, which was out of the question, or run.  Tim and Joe’s positions meant that the only way to run was back into the Grove. 
Maybe I can lose them in the trees. 
He thought.

Before either of them reacted, Bruce spun and ran as fast as he could into the Grove.  He heard the hoots of laughter coming from behind him.

“Keep running!”  He heard Joe shout gleefully.  “You will only end up tired and beaten when I am done with you.”

Terrified by the thought of those two catching him, Bruce ran as hard as he could.  He turned and weaved through the trees, trying to shake his pursuers.  He soon lost track of where he was running.  He came out into the clearing around the pond, his breath ragged in his throat.

Stopping to catch his breath, he knelt on the rock that jutted into the pond.  His heart pounding, he heard his tormenters getting closer.  He knew that they would soon have him.  He blinked back the sudden tears, anticipating the pain that would shortly be visited upon him.

A desperate idea formed when he saw the tall reeds that were growing in the middle of the pond.  He slid into the cold water and made his way to the reeds, hoping that he could hide in them and praying they would give him enough cover.  He treaded water, trying to stay as still as possible.  He had just caught a glimpse of Tim coming out of the woods when it felt like something grabbed him by his legs and he was pulled under.

Instinctively, he screamed, knowing it was stupid, but instead of swallowing water, he found himself surrounded in a bright light.  He could not move, the light wrapping tightly around his body.  It had been warm in the light, the only sensation being one of movement.

Lost in that warmth, he had not been prepared when the darkness suddenly slammed into the light.  He had been terrified anew when the darkness had overcome the light, surrounding him in a cold, black oblivion.  The cold was everywhere, numbing his mind, but the sensation of movement had continued.

The darkness began to fade, slowly dissipating like a mist.  When it cleared, he had found himself on a rocky hill, a cool costal wind blowing.  He looked around, seeing some scattered trees amongst the rocks, the sky overcast, filled with roiling gray clouds.  Falling to his knees, he held his head in his hands, certain that he was losing his mind.

While he knelt there, completely bewildered, he felt suddenly lightheaded.  As he sat down to forestall falling over, his heart still pounding in his chest, he heard the approach of horses.  He looked up to see a group of men on horses come riding over the hill.  Bruce saw that they were armed with swords and wearing leather armor with metal rings sewed in.  They rode up to him and encircled him.

Bruce saw the wild look in their eyes for the first time.  They were grinning at him, taunting him as they circled him.  They finally stopped, the man apparently in charge sliding off his horse.  Bruce tried to talk with him, to find out what was happening, but the man simply laughed and slapped him hard across the face.  The man roughly grabbed him by the arm, twisting it and forcing him to the ground.  Shortly, Bruce found himself bound and draped over a horse.

The men rode off, laughing and joking, Bruce bouncing against the horse’s back.  His head rocking back and forth, Bruce could only catch glimpses of where they were going.  It was only when the men slowed that he was able to see what lay ahead.

Before them was a large fortress, made of ugly dark gray stones, towering above the rolling hills, a heavy metal gate near the base.  It reminded Bruce of something out of one of his fantasy novels.  The men rode up to the gate and stopped.

He was dragged off the horse and yanked to his feet, the men unconcerned if they hurt him.  They pushed him into the fortress, prodding him along with kicks and blows.  The large hallway he found himself was cold and frightening, with only a few torches lighting the way.

Suddenly, he felt as if something had seized his heart and slammed him into an icy lake, pure terror coursing through his body.  A short robed figure appeared in the hallway ahead of him.  The men guarding him bowed as the figure approached, dragging Bruce to his knees.  Bruce’s teeth were chattering, tears welling in his eyes, feeling like he was going to piss himself as the figure stopped in front of him.  He stared in horror at the brown-scaled face, those black eyes and sharp teeth.

“I will take him from here.”  The Imp said, clutching Bruce’s arm.  The men bowed again and left.  The demon yanked Bruce to his feet.  “Let’s go, boy.  My Master awaits you.”  It said with a low chuckle that froze Bruce’s blood.

He was half-dragged down the hall and pulled through the set of double doors.  He caught a glimpse of the stone throne and that swirling black vortex before he was slammed to the stone floor.

“Do not treat our guest so roughly, my brother.”  Another voice, deep and powerful, said from the direction of the throne.  “I want him to feel welcome here.”

“As you command, Master.”  The Imp said, backing away.

“Rise, mortal.”  The voice said.  Bruce sensed it coming closer.  “You will not be harmed any further.”

Bruce lay quivering on the floor, unable to rise, his body unresponsive, terror overwhelming him.  He lay there until he felt hands grasp his shoulders and lift him up.  Looking up, he saw his Master for the first time.

The sound of the door of the farmhouse opening and closing brought Bruce back to the present.  He shuddered slightly, recalling that first touch of his Master.  His Master had shown him many things, including the true nature of his power, but he still hated and feared him.

A girl around fifteen or sixteen had exited the house, heading towards the barn.  She was dressed in a rough linen dress, a shawl covering her shoulders, with leather boots visible under her skirt. 
Perfect.
  Bruce thought as he started his horse forward.

He circled around to the
back side of the barn, getting off the horse and listening.  He heard the girl singing softly as she worked inside.  He went over to the side door and slipped inside.

The girl was distracted, feeding the cows that were inside the barn, and did not notice him at first.  He approached her, studying
her as he got close.  She was attractive, with light brown hair and pale skin.  When she straightened and caught sight of him, he saw her pretty blue eyes grow wide with fear.

She screamed once before Bruce used his power, reaching in and touching her life force.  Since he was a wielder of the demons’ power, the girl’s life force hurt him, his eyebrows clinching from the pain.  He endured it, as his Master had taught him that he only needed to draw a tiny bit to influence her.

Her scream ended and she stared at him, eyes now unfocused.  Gently pulling at her life force, he spoke.  “You will come with me and not resist.  You will do as I command when I command it.  Nod if you understand.”  The girl nodded.

He gently released her life force, allowing the suggestion to take hold.  “Follow me.”  He said and exited the barn, the girl close behind him.