The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (29 page)

Energized by the power of his magic, Carym bashed a wild dog that leaped up at him. The beast fell to the ground with its skull caved in and Carym had a second to survey the scene. Genn was across the barn with her back to a wall, the floor about her seemingly littered with the corpses of savage dogs that might once have just been creatures of the wild. Whatever magic had corrupted them made it impossible to tell their origins. Their hides were patchy and furless as though they suffered from mange and open sores oozed along their bodies. Green ichor dripped from the gaping maws of the dead ones and turned the dirt floor to muck.

Another of the great dogs charged through the shattered barn door and leaped for Carym, but he knocked this one away with little trouble and continued to see where he could best help his friends. Ederick was locked in combat with one werewolf and Hala with another. Bart was killing the endless supply of beasts from the air above their heads while firing the occasional magical bolt at one or the other of the two werewolves. 

Then Ederick seemed to falter under the attack of the powerful werewolf and Carym charged in to help, intoxicated with power. He jumped on the great creature's back and took it to the ground as it snarled in anger. Ederick struck the creature in the face with his shield, stunning it briefly. Then Ederick stepped back and lopped off one of its flailing hands, a pain-filled howl split the air. Carym swept the creature's feet out from under it and took it to the ground, smashing its head into the dirt floor. But the beast had not yet finished fighting and surprised Carym by throwing him off. 

Carym quickly to his feet and he squared off with the monster, Ederick at his side. The Tides seemed to be speaking to him now, almost guiding him. He wasn't sure if he were hallucinating, but he knew what he was sensed was right: this creature was an abomination created by the purest form of evil. It could not be allowed to live. Carym hurled a sheet of flames at the creature and was satisfied to see it falter, even though its anger was unabated. The stench of singed fur filled the air and Carym began to falter, the Tides could only sustain him for so long before his body gave way. As the creature staggered and howled in pain, Ederick moved in and finished it off with a savage blow to its head. The beast collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap and became human once more. 

Ederick sank to his knees, winded from battle and feeling the terrible pain that the foul claws of the werewolves inflicted upon him. Thunderclaps and flashes of light told him that Genn and Bart were still working at killing the magically cursed canines. 

Where are they coming from?
 he wondered, exasperated. As he asked himself the question, he learned the answer. The tendrils of Tidal forces trickled out from the remaining werewolf, each leading to one of the wild animals. Then a wolf and a coyote, each with eyes blazing in magical red light, slunk into the barn. They were big, the coyote almost as big as the wolf. He wanted to help Hala, but he had to defeat these two creatures that stood in between. He struck the wolf in the head in mid leap with one fighting stick and slammed it to the ground with the other. The coyote slunk low to the ground, its hackles high and its ears flat against its neck. The fang filled mouth promised to deliver endless pain to the Fyrbold. Carym took the coyote down, but not before the creature delivered a vicious bite to his forearm. When he was through, he had smashed the thing's head beyond recognition and gained Hala's side. 

Ederick was on his feet again, battling off the wild beasts that never seemed to stop coming. Bart was at the smashed opening of the barn trying to stop any more of the beasts from coming in and Genn managed to kill another one. They had to stop the last werewolf or they would be overwhelmed by the sheer number of the enemy's evil spawn. He thought of opening a portal to the Realm of Flames but Hala might get sucked into it by the fire demons that seemed to hold sway there. 

"Hala!" he shouted. Hala was outmatched by the beast's greater size and strength, and even the powerful protection of her magical fur could not completely stop werewolf claws. "We have to kill this beast to break the enchantment over them!" If Hala heard him, she showed it by increasing the fury of her attacks on the remaining werewolf. But this one was strong. Carym entered into the fray and marveled at the strength of this werewolf as his fierce blows seemed to go unnoticed by the beast. More dogs streamed into the barn and Carym knew they would soon be overwhelmed. The only solution was the most dangerous one, it might even cost him his own soul if the spell went wrong. But it was the only hope his companions had left against the werewolf and its demonic minions. It was a powerful spell, and it required blending the power of two different Tidal forces at one time; a power he had managed to learn under the tutelage of Morgon. His last attempt at this spell nearly destroyed him.

Carym reached out to the Spiritstone and opened the floodgates to that mystical and mysterious power that so few of the world knew anything about, and allowed its Tidal forces to surge into him. The Spirittides seemed to cool the growing discomfort caused in him by the Flame Sigil. Finally, his body became a vessel for the awesome power of both Tidal forces and Carym began the Sigil spell that would end this fight once and for all. He had enough strength left do what needed to be done, but wondered if he had more. He pointed his hand in the area behind the Hala and the werewolf and jets of silver and red and orange flames flew from his fingers. The fiery jets coalesced into a vortex that swirled faster and faster. And just as it seemed Hala might falter under the tremendous strength of the werewolf, she delivered a savage blow to its face and bounded away from it. Then the swirling multi-color vortex expanded rapidly and rays of beaming silver framed a yawning chasm of blackness; a doorway to another realm. Fiery snake-like tendrils lunged out of the blackness and grabbed the great monster, knocking it off its feet. A look of fear passed over its canine features and it howled in anger and dismay as it realized that something had grabbed it.

As the fiery appendages drew it closer, the werewolf's feet scrabbled for purchase in the soft dirt of the barn floor and it howled like a dog that had just been kicked in the gut. Hideous faces appeared in the yawning portal, mocking, laughing, taunting the werewolf, but Carym didn't care and released his hold over the Sigilstones. Until he saw what happened to the werewolf when the spell that bound her had broken.

Gradually her lupine features receded and she was human once more. The smell of burning human flesh wafted across the room as the flaming tentacles darkness wrapped themselves tightly onto the woman's limbs, even as her bloody fingers struggled to find purchase in the dirt floor. Howls of anguish and rage drifted out of that yawning chasm of darkness and mingled with the screams of the woman who was once a werewolf.

And then Carym saw her face. A face that was beautiful and sad all at once with eyes that pleaded with him to help. A moment before he would have laughed at the thought of helping the savage creature of the Shadow. Seeing her dragged to her doom, a doom that he had created, he wondered if he were doing the right thing. He wondered if the woman had been cursed, bewitched. Did she even know what she had done? Carym looked back at the woman, her mouth open and screaming. His gut twisted as his mind transposed the images of his own wife being dragged to her doom at the hands of the vicious Vaardic raiders so long ago. 

Carym ended the spell. Too weak to speak, too weak to move, he dropped to the floor and closed his eyes.

Bart, overcome with fatigue, lost his hold on the Tides and dropped hard to the ground. The cold night air had flooded into the barn when the Hellish dogs led by three werewolves had broken through the barn door. The rain turned to snow in the growing cold, the steady whisper of falling flakes drifted in with the chill air. The only sound inside the barn was the whimpering of the woman that had been the leader of the werewolves.

They would need to leave, and leave quickly. Bart cast the unconscious Carym a concerned look, but sensed that the Tides were working to heal him. He was stronger in the Tides than any person should be, so the bard did not fear for him. Hala and Ederick knelt beside the weeping and naked woman, it was clear that each was in a lot of pain. The nasty wounds that a werewolf imparts on a victim are painful and slow to heal, fortunately theirs were not serious. Genn seemed unscathed and had done a remarkable job of defending herself and the rest of the companions from the attacks of the vicious dogs. He smiled at her and nodded in respect.

Then he knelt beside the woman, her time was clearly short.

"George?" she asked, delirious. "Is that you?"

"No--" he began, but she cut him short.

"You saved me, George!" she said, her eyes glazing over.

"From what?"

"From The Society," she responded. "From Morghal. He can't have me anymore."

"Morghal?"

"Tell the children I'm sorry, George. I should have come home," she wept. Tears streamed down her face as she relived memories from her past. "I should have come home."

Ederick cast a sad glance at the bard.

"I will," he whispered, holding her hand and hoping to comfort her. "I'll tell them."

The woman's sobs slowed to a stop and soon after her breathing stopped too. Bart reached up and with a gentle hand closed her eyes. He said a prayer for wayward souls over her before standing up.

"What do you think she meant by The Society? Who--who is Morghal?" asked Genn, upset by the ordeal.

"Those things are better left unsaid, so they are," he replied softly, still looking upon the woman lying at his feet. "At least, not until we are among safer company."

Genn nodded but said nothing more.

"We have to go," Bart said quietly. "The villagers are about. The farmer will be angry, so he will."

"I hope we have brought them no harm," said Hala. Bart was impressed by her bearing. Despite her wounds and the deep exhaustion in her bones, she maintained her poise and regal air. She was a born leader, and yet she deferred the leadership of this group to those around her without question. She stepped up and risked her life time and again for people she hardly knew.

"We have only two horses left," said the knight, interrupting Bart's thoughts. He grabbed one of the mounts and began to strap their supplies to its saddle. The knight, too, was weakened; nevertheless his noble pride would not bend. The man was the epitome of what a knight should be, there wasn't a finer fighter on Llars that Bart had ever known. For a bard who planned on composing the greatest saga the world had ever heard, he could not have been in better company. 

"Genn, Hala," directed Bart. "Wrap the bodies and I'll help you strap them to Ederick's horse."

"Let them believe these two were members of our party killed by the wild dogs," offered the knight.

"Aye," agreed the bard. "If they think we brought werewolves down on their heads, they might just find their patriotism and turn us over to the Rhi, so they might."

Then he turned to Carym and placed his hand over the man's chest, reaching his mind out to the Tides. Although the bard did not know of the presence of the Sigilstones, their presence helped the bard direct the healing process with ease. He traced Sigils in the air above Carym's inert form and stepped away, knowing the magic would do its work, he would be strong enough to walk soon. 

"We're ready, Bart," said Genn, concern in her eyes as she looked at Carym. 

"Stay with him, he'll be up soon. I want everyone to stay in the barn," he said to her as he got up and walked to remnants of the door. "I need to talk to the farmer and find out how the town fared. And he'll want money for this barn, so he will."