The Willbreaker (Book 1) (14 page)

              “So, what, we are going to mine it for them?”

              “Yes. Trexalite in raw form is poisonous. It radiates death. Even in modest amounts, trexalite will eventually kill you. They will use us to mine the mineral for them, so they can escape its radiation.”

              Brandon looked at him, “How do you know all this?”

              Galadin looked down at him, still wearing that smile, as if he had not been captured.

              “I am an officer in the Army of the Red Lion. We have studied the Bauth’Dok, as a potential enemy, just in case we were ever unfortunate enough to run into them in our travels. And today friend, I guess our luck ran out.”

              Brandon nodded his head slightly. Glancing around, he noticed all the men still had their weapons. His two short swords hung at his hip.

              “Hey! We still have our weapons! Can’t we fight them?”

              Galadin’s smile faded from his lips. His eyes slowly turned to Brandon, ready to break the bad news.

              “They are not scared of our weapons. If they were, they would have been stripped from us before we were caged. I am afraid our weapons are of no use in our situation. And it would probably be wise if you didn’t try to be a hero and use them. Just keep them at your hip, as long as you can. Maybe we can find another use for them.”

              Brandon watched, as the trees grew denser around them, preventing vision into the woods that lay beyond. These were not frequently traveled roads. From his guess, Brandon figured these were the old trader’s roads. He watched countless trees pass beside them as minutes turned into hours and darkness laid its hands upon the world.

              Thoughts of every size and shape compounded and calculated their way to more thoughts and questions. He had already forgotten about his pounding headache. As the trees droned by in their repetitious march, Brandon lost his focus. Although his eyes faced the trees, he did not look at them. He stared into nothingness as the dull drum of the turning wheels and the clicking of the wagon put his mind into a relaxed place. It felt as though he floated, completely unaware of his surroundings. The feeling intoxicated him. For whatever reason, Brandon knew things would be all right. Somehow, he knew.

              None of the men talked a lot. They occasionally guessed where they were by judging the skyline or markers in the ground, but nothing was solid enough to grant insight on their exact location. The only thing they knew is the wagons headed east. From the small conversations held early in their capture, Brandon found out the men here were part of a larger army heading south to his hometown, Greylin, to rendezvous with twenty thousand of Reinhold’s men. They planned on sacking Orlimay, the capital city of Cloudkeep Kingdom. Galadin commanded five thousand troops that perished at the hands of the Maidens and the twelve Bauth’Dok.
Twelve Bauth’Dok and seventy-five Maidens, against five thousand soldiers? I can’t imagine . . .
Now, including Brandon, only nine of them remained.

              The only mystery to the survivors: why were they picked? As soon as the Maidens were apprehended, hundreds of men offered themselves up for capture after Galadin ordered them to surrender. He knew they were no match for the twelve Bauth’Dok. Numbers in this game meant nothing. Galadin instructed them not to run, and not to be brave; the Bauth’Dok’s magic could reach and grab them before they could find safety. The cave dwelling creatures lined them up, as one of the Bauth’Dok appraised each man with delicate care. For the eight men that were captured, they were given their inspection and with a slight nod to the one wearing the bladed crown, they were shuttled into the bone wagon. For all the others, their lives ended in assassination.

              Night turned into morning and back to night again as the smell of the air changed. The wagons never stopped. The Bauth’Dok never appeared to eat, and apparently thought their captives did not need to eat either. Luckily, Galadin had dried fanglin root tucked in a small pouch underneath his breastplate, so the men were able to hold their strength. Although it tasted like muddy wood, a small bite of fanglin root could fill a grown man’s belly, and give him the sustaining nutrients and vitamins needed to survive. They needed it.

              Brandon wondered about Edward and Jasmine. He hoped they were okay. He prayed they did not follow him, and that the Bauth’Dok did not kill them. He could not imagine the loss he would feel if they were killed. In the short time of their friendship, Edward became quite close to him. He felt a true friendship with him. If he found out they were killed, he would do everything in his power to make sure these creatures paid.

The air took on cool moisture and it left a taste of salt on the lips. They neared the Paraline River, the thickest finger from the Grogan Sea. The raging water hissed as the wagons neared to a stop. The trees pushed back from the shore; the barren area gave indication the river flooded often, leaving a worn area twenty yards from where the water’s edge beat at the shoreline.

              Brandon watched as the one of the Bauth’Dok holding a glowing staff hopped gracefully from the back of the huge beast that pulled their wagon. It walked to the shoreline, as it had done a thousand times before. Raising the staff, held solo in its right hand, it pointed the glowing tip to the water. The creature waved the staff in a circular motion outward, and with a little push, the staff floated from its outstretched fingers. The men in the wagon watched in wonder.

              The staff floated upward away from its commander. The glow from the metal got stronger, leaving a blurry red shadow that followed it along the top of the water. The Bauth’Dok stood still at the shoreline, holding out its outstretched hand, as if controlling or guiding the weapon. The staff floated outward, until it reached the middle of the river. In an explosion of white cinders that rained down to the water, the staff erupted in magical sparks. The loud crack echoed sharply across the water. Brandon’s hands went to his ears as he and the men winced from the noise.

              A numbing glow grew from where the staff exploded. The core of the magic threw radiant red light across the river, lightly illuminating the trees scattered on the opposing shore. The shaft of the staff floated in the air, although it had flipped horizontally. As they watched, the shaft split in half from base to point, creating two identical, long pieces of wood. The long rods floated apart, one heading off to the left of the creature and the other floating off to its right. They parted until they were eight or nine spans across; wide enough for two wagons to fit between them. As they hit their mark the rods stopped, still surrounded in the hypnotizing pulse of the red metal.

              Brandon cocked his head sideways trying to see if his eyes were just playing a trick on him. It appeared the rods of wood stretched; they grew in length. They stretched from each end, closing the gap between the shoreline. None of the caged men ever saw magic like this. Whispers of astonishment and curiosity spread through the bone cage.

              The rod made bridge-like support beams in front of the Bauth’Dok commanding the staff, to the other side of the river. As the points of the wood touched land on each side, the red burning brilliance flashed a hot white. All the men covered their eyes from the blinding flash. Brandon whipped back so fast that he lost his footing and fell backwards onto his back.

              As they cautiously peered back to the water, Brandon looked up to see the Bauth’Dok returning to the wagons. Behind him laid the most fascinating and magical bridge Brandon had ever seen. The split shaft of the staff formed its edge along both sides and stretched across the entire river. Between the wooden rails, a transparent, red-glowing road shimmered. He could see the white caps of the raging river through it. The circular glow no longer centered in the middle of the river, but instead emitted from the entire floor of the bridge. The creature already climbed back atop the mammoth beast. With mechanical timing, the beast once again started its trek. It approached the red glowing bridge with careless regard, obviously used to this magic. All of the captives clung to the cage walls, peering down as the wagon’s wheels lifted from earth to glowing roadway. Brandon noticed silence as the wagon wheels rode smoothly over the magical field beneath them. Galadin studied the road and the Bauth’Dok with weighing eyes.

              When the three beasts finished pulling the bone wagons across the bridge, the same Bauth’Dok that created it hopped down from the snarling and snotty beast. The other Bauth’Dok watched patiently as it walked back to the water’s edge. With its right hand reaching to the sky in a claw-like grip, the creature strained as it pulled invisible forces into its hand. The transparent structure erupted in an explosion of brilliant and blinding light. The white flash of power lit the mountainside and raging river with brighter-than-day light. In a heartbeat, the flash dispersed. The staff floated mid-river, surrounded by a fading red glow. It descended into the waiting grip of its master. As the creature closed its hold on the weapon, one whirling spin put the staff solidly at its side while it walked and remounted on the giant badger. Galadin’s words left his cold lips quietly as he seemed to speak to himself.

              “What kind of power is this?" His words trailed off as if he wanted to say more. Everyone stared in amazement at the use of the trexalite-tipped staff. Within seconds, they once again moved, this time up towards the spiraling road that wound around the mountain to its peak.

              The badgers grunted heavily, flinging their snotty mucus into the trees on either side of them, flipping their heads from side to side as the path got increasingly steeper. The grade increased and large ruts made the path treacherous; the mounts had to dig into the hillside to pull up the heavy bone wagons behind them with their huge claws. Their resonating grunts shook inside of Brandon’s ribcage. The captives clung to the cage walls trying to prevent from slamming into each other as violently rocked back and forth in the ruts. The Bauth’Dok stood unwavering atop the beasts as they yanked and jerked the bone wagons up the mountain road.

              Their wagons rocked and thrashed those inside like a shaken coconut filled with lima beans. After an hour the road leveled and smooth out. The top of the road ended in a flat terrace. The hot steaming beasts pulled the three wagons up to the flat ground and dropped to their bellies, taking a well needed rest. The sun made the Tusk Mountains on the horizon glow an eerie yellow. It would be morning soon.

              The terrace, smooth and polished, seemed unnatural. It crept up to the flat side of the mountain; it also unnatural. The layers of grey, black, and brown rock slanted diagonally across its massive face. It rose upward from the terrace like a gravestone but its top continued to the mountain’s tip. Brandon expected a cave entrance here, but solid stone covered its face. The cut mountain face rose fifty feet high and twice that again in width.

              The Bauth’Dok riders stayed stationary on their mounts. From their left, Brandon watched as the black crowned Bauth’Dok dismounted and walked in front of them. When he reached twenty paces or so in front of the wagons, his head shifted left and then right, as if looking at something. It crossed its arms to opposing hips, and withdrew the two long, thin, curved blades that rested there. He kept his hands a foot away from his hips, holding the blades out in front of him like the two tusks of a war elephant. He tilted his head to the right.

              Out of thin air, four figures materialized in front of the rock face; Bauth’Dok. Each held a long staff, tipped with a glowing ball of red stone. As their forms solidified, they simultaneously dropped to a knee, bowing before the Blademaster. He threw his eyeless glare over them and then walked to the rock face. Brandon moved around the bone cage to get a better view. Brandon felt his heart pounding in his chest.

              The men watched the Blademaster intently. He walked up to the wall and cocked his head sideways once again. Bending his elbows, he raised the sword tips to chest level.

              “What’s happening? What is he doing?” Brandon asked urgently.

              “I don’t know friend,” replied Galadin.

              With a rapid thrust, the Blademaster drove his blades into the rock face, a foot and a half apart from each other, like two keys put into a doorway. He looked at the rock face shortly before twisting the blades. He rotated the blade in his left hand counter-clockwise, and the blade in his right hand clockwise. A thunderous knock rang from within the mountain.

              In exactly the same fashion as the four Bauth’Dok guards, the solid face of the mountain wall shimmered and then faded away to nothing, revealing a titanic cave entrance. The curved lips of the cave mouth rolled outwards; smooth and fluid as if worn away by water and wind. The throat of the cave curved down to the left as it descended into darkness. Torches hung loosely on the walls, shedding dim light on the ground

              The crowned creature slammed his swords into his scabbards and walked inside. The four Bauth’Dok at the entrance stood as he disappeared and then shimmered into nothingness. As the giant badgers walked towards the cave mouth, Brandon heard the whisper of a scared soldier next to him.

              “We are going to die.”

              As Brandon’s wagon plunged into the darkness, the thundering knock startled the men to attention, and the light from the cave entrance disappeared. The throat of the cave wound down spirally, and went for quite a distance as the air turned hot and thick. The smell of dank cave water mixed heavily with burning wood and another smell unfamiliar to Brandon; sweet and bitter, mixed, and it filled his nostrils.