The Last Refuge Page 8

  “Thinking of making a run for it?” he asked.

  “Do I need too?” she added.

  “I don’t know. My experience with Vengers tells me that you can’t be trusted, but my gut tells me otherwise in your case. You don’t act like any of them I’ve met, and I’m not in the mood to chase you down.”

  “So, I’m no longer a captive?” she asked.

  Suddenly, a dark form ran across the moonlit landscape and disappeared over a hill. In the distance, Elhan noticed the faint glimmer of a campfire on the horizon. He broke into a dead run toward the glimmer of the camp and Isha thought to escape. Nevertheless, she knew that Bero was her only hope of protection even though Vengers are not allowed into cities of refuge. Elhan remained her only possibility of getting in the gate. Besides, she was also curious to know what happened to Nathan so she sprinted toward Elhan whose form was quickly vanishing in the distance.

  Back in the Avone, Dodie couldn’t tell how far he had been pulled into the forest before a tree-limb caught the reins that trapped his arm to the horse’s bridle. Wrapping around the limb, the reins jolted the horse, slamming them together like a double-sided pendulum. The reins snapped on impact setting the frightened horse free to bolt into the undergrowth.

  “Don’t chase him,” Dodie shouted at Nathan who ran with all his strength, following the trail of broken limbs and twisted underbrush in the scared animals wake. Dodie rolled his eyes in disbelief as he quickly trekked after the youth. Within minutes, he heard a splash along with an ear splitting neighing of distress. Nathan followed the cries to a clearing with a large pond in the center. Menacing willows draped long tendril covered branches low to the water, touching their leaves to the surface of the dank water of the pool. He found the horse knee-deep in the water and struggling to free itself, but each effort took it lower into the muddy depths. Nathan pulled on the reins in a vain attempt to help the beast but went un-rewarded with each try.

  When Dodie emerged from the undergrowth onto the bank, he quickly took a track from his satchel, whispered a few words and the tome burst into a blinding light that pushed against the darkness on every side. The pond began to bubble and fume as the horse slowly rose from the mire, but the effort was not enough as the bog swarmed over the mount and pulled it under in one plunge. After this, the water of the pool lay still except for small bubbles that emerged from the mire to make a final pop on the surface.

  “Dodie,” Nathan said, pointing a nervous finger toward a small hut on the far end of the pool. For a moment, a small light appeared in the window of the hut only to vanish like the flicker of a candle going out. “What is that?”

  “Something bad I imagine,” Dodie said in a low tone patting his growling gut.

  They carefully made their way around the pond, taking care to place their footsteps well away from the water and trying to keep their balance in the muck that surrounded it. The one-room hut was of simple design with a thatched roof and four-pole walls covered with cobwebs and years of dust. A large chain caught Nathan’s eye as he approached the makeshift wood-bark door and began to knock. The chain ran from under the door straight into the pond and disappeared into its murky depths.

  “Hello, we’re lost and need some help,” called Nathan but no answer came.

  Dodie took another glow-tome from his satchel and lit the way as Nathan carefully pushed the door open. Inside, they discovered the other end of the chain. A human skeleton sat on a bench with its head and arms lying on a rough-cut wood table in the center of the room. It wore the clothes of a warrior with a chain mail shirt and leather pants as the fleshless fingers of the right hand encircled a long ornate battle-axe. The head lay facing the door as though anticipating fate, and on the right leg a thick scar-covered shackle encircled the ankle connecting to the chain emerging from the pond.

  “From the cuts on his leg-bone and scars on his shackle, I’d say he made good use of that axe before he died,” said Dodie.

  “That may have been what killed him,” said Nathan.

  “Somehow, I doubt that. He has the look of a Waring Guardsman and they are hardy folk. Who would have chain him like that and left him his axe?” said Dodie.

  “Bring the light closer, I think I see writing,” asked Nathan.

  Dodie lowered the light to the table-surface and a single word came into view, scratched over and over with knife and nail. The word appeared in many different languages to warn those that followed. It read – despair.

  “I guess that says it,” stated Dodie. “However, before you and I get that far, let’s see if a stream is feeding this pond.”

  They searched the area around the hut and along the bank until their effort paid off. A small stream from North of the pond slowly trickled through the dense tree line feeding the pond. Dodie scooped some of the stream’s water in his hand, put it to his mouth and quickly spit it out.

  “This water is far fresher than the pond, although it is still not drinkable by any means,” he said.

  Suddenly, the chain at the dead man’s leg began to move, tinkling and chattering as it moved toward the pond. Behind them, the middle of the pond began to bubble like a cauldron, steaming and spitting noxious gases into the air. Slowly, the chain began to slide into the pool link-by-link, pulling the skeleton from its rest on the table sending it clattering to the floor. Abruptly, Dodie’s tract went out leaving them in the growing darkness of the murderous forest.

  “I think we’re going to find out what he was guarding,” said Nathan, backing away from the pond.

  “And possibly what killed him. Hurry and follow the stream,” said Dodie as he dashed up the waterway trying to retrieve another tract from his side.

  In the pitch darkness, Nathan followed the sound of Dodie’s cursing and had little trouble catching up to him. Behind them they heard the sounds of splashing and the heaving of large amounts of water as though the pond had turned itself inside out. Panic nipped at their heels as they crashed thought the forest underbrush with never a thought of looking back. He wasn’t sure how far they had run when Dodie finally ignited another glow-tome, but when he did, they were standing at the edge of a larger stream with sparkling blue water. Nathan leaned against a tree, panting for air like a drowning man.

  “What the devil was that?” gasped Nathan.

  “Some things are better left unknown, my boy, and that in my opinion was one of them,’” smiled Dodie as he drank in the sparkling blue water. “Elyon smiles on us. This is ‘Crossing Stream,’ and if we follow it North, it goes to Bero.”

  Eight

  “A Whipstitch…”

  A grim blanket of night fell as Dodie and Nathan escaped Avone Forest. Crossing Creek stretched northward into the distance underneath a blanket of stars that spanned the skies to the horizon.

  “Glory be,” praised Dodie with a sigh of relief.

  “Do you think the others made it?” asked Nathan.

  “I’ve been with Elhan many years now and I know this. If anyone can navigate that business, it’s him,” said Dodie. “It’s us I’d be worried about if we were still in there, and if you don’t mind me saying, you handled yourself pretty well. What’s a fine lad like yourself doing with a demon-loving Venger?”

  “She’s saved my life,” Nathan shouted with more energy than he meant to use. Dodie raised his eyebrows in surprise as he threw his hands in the air.

  “No offense, but I’ve dealt with enough Vengers in my day, and none of them ever acted kindly, much less saved someone. Since you’re new to the area, I’ll give you a piece of advice. Use caution in your dealings with them,” cautioned Dodie. “Why are you here anyway?”

  “That’s my business,” Nathan said under his breath.

  “True, but when you enter Bero, it’ll be the eldar’s business as well,” Dodie said pointing. “That’s the lights of the city in the distance.”

  They’ll be heading straight to Bero Refuge but mind your step once you get there. In this case, Agabus is the eldar and no one to
trifle with. He’ll have your head if your don’t mind yourself.”

  In the distance, a campfire gleamed in the night sky as the wind blew the smoke through the air in thin wisps till it settled gently on the treetops. “Look, they got here before us.”

  “Nathan, wait,” called Dodie, but it was too late to stop Nathan as he sprinted into danger. Nathan came to the campfire but the camp was empty. Immediately, something appeared odd to him as he scanned the area. The two packs near the fire were the size of large trunks and the pot of water was large enough for a full-grown man to take a bath in. Something grabbed him from behind and put a hand over his mouth.

  “Don’t make a sound. This is a giant’s camp and we must leave quickly and quietly,” Dodie whispered in Nathan’s ear.

  As they were backing out of the camp, a huge hand clutched Nathan by the neck, lifting then him off the ground and making it almost impossible to breath. Dodie reached for his mace but his hand was snatched into the air and held there by a horrific strength.

  “What’s this,” said a large, thick-limbed man who stood just over eight feet all.

  He was tanned-skinned with a heavy black beard, harsh thin-lidded eyes, wearing a thick leather vest across his broad muscled chest and silk pants that stopped just short of the cords that held heavy leather sandals to his enormous feet.

  “Looks like we’ve caught a couple of thieves in our camp. What should we do with them I wonder?” laughed a second man.

  This man was just over seven feet, but though he was of smaller stature he was no less impressive in build than his partner. His vest was studded with jewels and though he wore silk pants, and his feet were clad in richly ornate boots of high status instead of sandals. His black beard was trimmed short, his malicious hazel eyes held a superior look of contempt and complimented the merciless smile he kept on his lips.

  “They look better to eat than those two skinny goats I caught, Gol. Especially, this plump one here,” said Og poking Dodie in the belly with a finger. “How long you reckon he’d take to cook.”

  “You both should leave and make haste. The Warden Elhan won’t be happy to see you in his district uninvited,” said Dodie.

  “Good try, but all the Wardens are dead,” said Gol.

  “We go where we wish, piglet, and Warden’s don’t concern us so keep your yap shut.” Og said still holding Dodie in the air by his arm.

  “Don’t bruise the meat before dinner,” said Gol.

  Suddenly, a man stepped out of the darkness dressed very much like Elhan, brandishing a large two-handed axe.

  “Put them down and I won’t make you suffer,” said the man from beyond the fire.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to find us, Bena,” smiled Gol with a hint of nervousness in his tone. “You have no right to hunt Zumzummin Emissaries. We are under Regent Mano’s protection.”

  “I answer to no one, and as for Mano, you can tell him I said hello when you see him in Hakkor,” Bena mocked.

  Quicker than thought, a dark clad figure darted from the shadows and was upon Og before he could react. An axe blade flashed in the firelight severing the giant’s arms at the shoulders. Dodie fell to the ground too dazed to stand while Nathan lay on the ground gasping for breath, rubbing his bruised neck. Bena spun in one smooth motion, slashing Og’s thighs and dropping the giant to his knees. Then, moving with the grace of a mountain cat, he spun on the balls of his feet with axe outstretched, sending Og’s head rolling toward the campfire. Quickly, he threw a gleaming axe at Gol sending the twirling weapon toward its mark between the giant’s eyes. But just before it struck home, sparks and the sound of clashing metal flew threw the air as a knife intercepted the axe in mid-air, sending it harmlessly away. His face went red with rage as he turned to see Elhan ready to oppose him.

  “That’s enough,” said Elhan firmly.

  “This filth is mine,” Bena snarled.

  “Not today,” Elhan said. “Even this scum is under protection within sight of the city. You were a Warden once.”

  “Yes, once. We are the last of them you and I,” said Bena.

  “I am, since you’ve turned to murder,” said Elhan.

  The two men stood face-to-face gripping their axes in hand with white-knuckled tension. Bena stood head-and-shoulders above Elhan but showed more lean and sinewy in his bearing. He wore a goatskin tunic over a sleeveless woolen shirt displaying his tightly muscled arms with leather pants and black leather boots. His gray woolen cloak hung loose around broad shoulders and his calloused hands gripped two bearded axes in each. The square jaw and high cheekbones showed a noble bearing that contrasted with the cool pallor of his sea-blue eyes which displayed a resolve cruel as death. His lean stature gave him blinding speed, brutal strength and fearsome accuracy. This is Bena the Follower, so called because of his place behind the Emperor in the old Giant Wars. No one knows how old he is but his name is spoken in low tones of fear in all places across the giant nations. They were friends once, so Elhan knew better than most his skill in battle. But that time was long ago, before the tragedy that changed him into a walking spirit of hateful revenge. With the stealth of a ghost, Isha crept behind Bena placing a knifepoint at his back.

  “Elhan, you can’t take me. I taught you all you know,” said Bena, paying no attention to Isha.

  “Maybe,” said Elhan.

  “You think this little girl behind me can help you,” Bena laughed as he moved. Quick as a blink, he snatched the dagger from Isha’s grip before she could even react.

  Then, taking her last dagger, he bent the blade between his fingers as someone bends a piece of grass, dropping the twisted metal at her feet. Even with her amazing strength, Isha wasn’t certain she could duplicate a feat like that. Ignoring her, Bena turned his attention back to the giant.

  “This dung is Gol and my axe claims his head,” insisted Bena pointing at the retreating giant.

  “This is an outrage. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I demand life-for-life since he killed my companion,” said Gol. “We are Emissaries of the Raphaim nation of the south heading to Pelan when this fanatic begins tracking us. We fled to this district and headed to Bero Refuge for protection. I have a common name among giants, maybe he has mistaken me for someone else.”

  Elhan’s face went red with anger as he approached Gol and pushed the blade of his axe in the giant’s face.

  “Show me the paper with a seal of passage from Regent Mano,” Elhan insisted.

  Beads of sweat ran down the giant’s face as he folded his arms across his broad chest feigning confidence.

  “Mano doesn’t recognize your authority, so no such papers were necessary,” Gol said with growing tension.

  “The protection you want from Bero only works if you get there alive,” Elhan said with sarcasm. “Am I correct?”

  “Well…”

  “And who is going to protect you so you can get there to be protected?” chided Elhan.

  “You can’t leave me with this demon,” sputtered Gol. “You’re a Warden.”

  The giant turned quickly but Bena had vanished into the wind-blown grass.

  “It’s as you said, Mano doesn’t recognize my authority,” Elhan said flatly. “Get out of my district before I kill you myself, and take what’s left of your friend with you. I don’t want his rotting carcass making the animals sick if they eat him.”

  With hatred in his eyes, Gol quickly collected what he could and marched off into the night dragging his headless companion behind him. Elhan then went to the edge of the firelight and called out into the darkness.

  “I want your word that you won’t touch him till he is off the Morah Highland.”

  Silence filled the air around them.

  “Blast it, Bena, swear it,” Elhan shouted.

  “So be it,” Bena’s voice echoed in the starlight and then faded into the distance. “The fires of Hakkor are patient, and so am I.”

  They found their way back to Crossing Creek and camped for
the night. Nathan was strangely quiet and sat by himself next to the creek. Isha found him staring at the passing water. She had been disarmed like a parent taking a stick from a child. Being disarmed meant dishonor, no matter which Venger Branch you represented. It had never happened to her before and she made a silent promise to herself that it would never happen again while she lived. But she wasn’t the only one who took injury. Nathan’s bruises from Og’s grip seemed darker in the moonlight. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt compelled to take a piece of cloth from her cloak, dip it into the cool water of the creek and wipe the dirt from his bruises. He twitched from time-to-time with pain but he said nothing as he gazed into the moonlight shimmering off the creek. Then, after a few minutes, she broke the silence.

  “There was nothing you could do,” she stated with assurance.

  He looked into her face with a helpless expression of anger.

  “I hate this…this…feeling of helplessness,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you usually rely on,” she asked.

  “My friend, but he’s gone now.”

  “And who did he rely on?”

  “God, I guess.”

  “Then maybe you should talk to this god and he’ll show you something,” she said.

  How could she know that, he thought. The way the moonlight glimmered off her face drew his eyes to her. Her sharpen teeth, pointed ears and tattoos gave her an animal-like appearance. They all sharply contrasted with her cascading red hair, the smooth feminine lines of her cheeks and her forest brown eyes that sparkled in the twilight. Was this the same girl that tried to kill him? His heart began to beat a little faster and what he felt confused him.