The gargoyle snarled and the creature, uttered a word that sounded to Stone like
nasty.
The two creatures charged each other, neither one as fast as Stone, but both gaining more speed than Stone would have thought possible. The short creature, which Stone guessed was a troll, landed the first blow, a powerful overhanded punch that knocked the gargoyle onto its back. Then the troll produced a knife of chiseled stone, and began stabbing the gargoyle. Stone guessed that the creature had improvised the weapon, after losing its sword, or perhaps it never had a sword, only the scabbard which it wore to look more human. Either way, it made quick use of the primitive looking knife.
Stone was paralyzed with shock, watching the two powerful creatures battle. The gargoyle tried to rise, but the troll knocked it back down. It tried rolling away, but the troll was relentless, stabbing over and over and over until the gargoyle reverted to solid rock. Then a splash behind Stone caused him to whirl around. Another gargoyle had dropped into the wash, only this time there was nothing between the green skinned beast and Stone. Behind him was the troll, and blocking the wash was the stone body of the slain gargoyle. Stone had nowhere to run, no way to escape.
He heard movement behind him, but Stone didn’t have the luxury of looking back. The gargoyle was lumbering forward and Stone knew he would have to fight to survive. He bent his knees and got ready to attack. The gargoyle swung a massive, diagonal swipe at Stone, its bony claws extending to cut him to ribbons, but Stone was expecting just such an attack. He spun to the side, ran up the side of the wash and then launched himself at the gargoyle, who was rising back up to its full height after its first attack. Stone came at the creature near its shoulder and he swung his thick knife, hacking into the gargoyle’s upper arm. The knife didn’t severe the limb, but it cut deeply and the gargoyle side stepped away, howling in pain. Stone didn’t stop; he landed in the water and spun, reaching out with his knife and cutting a gash in the gargoyle’s exposed leg. The creature staggered to its knees, the leathery wings flapping out in hopes of escaping, but Stone jumped again, this time grabbing one wing near the gargoyle’s shoulder blade and sinking his knife deep in the creature’s back.
Then Stone brought his feet up on the gargoyle’s back, and launched himself away from the beast, somersaulting through the air and then landing with a splash in the water that stood in the bottom of the wash. To his surprise, the troll had charged forward and slammed its broad shoulder into the gargoyle’s twisted body. The gargoyle came flying down the wash and Stone was forced to jump out of the way. He landed on the muddy side of the wash as the gargoyle flew past him and sent a wave of water up the wash as it crashed.
The troll then looked at Stone, its mouth moving as it muttered, but Stone couldn’t hear what it was saying. Stone was afraid the troll would attack, but instead it turned and climbed up the side of the wash, rolling onto the rocky turf above and disappearing into the forest.
Stone stayed where he was, leaning against the muddy side of the wash, his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He watched as the gargoyle he’d attacked squirmed and then slowly turned back to stone. There was movement through the forest, heavy bodies knocking over small trees and blundering around. Stone didn’t know if he was hearing the gargoyles or the troll. He watched the sky, and after he’d caught his breath, decided he would climb out of the wash.
The muddy banks were slick and scaling the wash was difficult and messy, but Stone managed it. He was covered with mud when he got to the top and he took a moment to survey his surroundings. The forest seemed still; there was no movement anywhere he could see. He searched the sky through the bare, black branches of the trees. He didn’t see any gargoyles, so he decided to move slowly toward the campsite.
It took several minutes of stealthy movement, but he finally reached the camp. A tree had been knocked across the clearing, but the tree where their supplies had been stashed was unaffected. He found his pack and untied it. He found his fire starting supplies and then gathered a rope that was also in his pack. He realized he was hungry and stuffed a hunk of salted beef into his mouth. Then he packed more food, slung the rope and a canteen over his shoulder and moved to the edge of the woods.
The gargoyles had returned to the castle ruins and were circling once more. He sighed as he realized he would have to make the mad dash back across the valley to the castle and find the entrance again before being injured or killed by the gargoyles. It was a daunting task. He considered briefly waiting for nightfall and trying to sneak his way back to the castle, but Lorik’s words came back to him,
There’s a lot of dark magic in this place. I think it’s best if we proceed with the maximum amount of daylight.
He didn’t know if the gargoyles could see in the dark or not, but he knew he couldn’t. Finding the entrance to the castle in the dark would be difficult if not impossible. And he’d seen enough nightmarish things in those ruins in the daytime; he could only imagine what he might run into at night.
He steadied his nerve and was just about to dash down the hill when he heard a bellowing cry from the far side of the ruins. He stood up, trying desperately to see. It was the troll, challenging the gargoyles. Like a flock of birds, they turned together and flew toward the other side of the valley. Stone recognized his chance and made a dash down the hill. He kept watching for the gargoyles to turn back toward him, but either they didn’t know he had returned or perhaps they viewed the troll as the greater threat. Stone didn’t know and didn’t care. He just kept running until he reached the castle. Then he made a quick search and got lucky, finding the entrance rather quickly. He took a deep breath, then charged through the vines, into the darkness.
Lorik lay unconscious, unmoving except for his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. The same could not be said for the man with the mysterious markings. The man’s chest was cracked open like an overripe melon, blood pooled on the floor beneath him, and his eyes were open wide, staring blankly up into the darkness of the deep pit. Then his body shuddered, and a red, blood covered hand reach up from the man’s ruined chest cavity.
The hand was small, and delicate, a woman’s hand in miniature. It gripped the jagged flesh and pulled. A head appeared, it was bald and stained red with blood. Wide, feminine eyes and a narrow nose graced the face, but no eyebrows. The mouth was drawn together in a pout, the small lips protruding, as glossy, red blood dripping down her chin. The creature hissed, and the sound stirred the animals, who were pinned up at the bottom of the pit, into a frenzy. The sheep began to run around in circles inside their pen, bleating loudly. The pigs squealed and pressed against the wooden sides of their small enclosure, hoping to get away from the creature that had inhabited the body of the man Lorik had fought.
The animals were so loud, it roused Lorik. He opened his eyes and took in a deep breath. For one long moment, all the animal sounds were just a buzz in the back of his mind as he remembered the floating drops of glowing magic. Then he remembered where he was and what had happened. He turned his head toward the body of the man with the markings. The sight of the ruined body would have been enough to frighten anyone, but the blood covered creature rising up out of the corpse was worse than a nightmare.
He scrambled away, crawling at first, then getting quickly to his feet. Despite his battle with the man, or whatever he actually was, and their fall, Lorik was uninjured. He wasn’t even sore or tired, but fear was tearing at his mind so that he felt cold and shaky. The creature rose up on long legs that unfolded neatly. Its body was thin, emaciated looking, and the skin was either transparent or so thin that Lorik could see the muscle fibers in its abdomen and across its narrow chest. It had the facial features of a woman, but the body of a man. It had no clothes on, although it was covered with blood and bits of gore from the human shell it had inhabited.
Lorik reached up and drew his swords. His dagger was still in the side of the man with the markings and Lorik guessed that it hadn’t seemed to hurt the man because he was just a shell. His body had just been like a suit of armor that was now being discarded.
The creature hissed again, reminding Lorik of the mud dragons in the Marshlands. The creature’s mouth opened to reveal a long, forked tongue that slid around dozens of sharp, pointed teeth.
“What the hell are you?” he said.
The creature just hissed.
“Well, whatever you are, you need killing.”
Lorik rushed forward, swords raised high, but before he got close enough to strike out with his weapons, the creature raised a hand and Lorik was swatted with an invisible force. He went sprawling across the rough stone floor of the pit. He rose quickly, his blood pounding through his veins and his mind racing. The creature was magical, that much was obvious. He would have to find a new way to fight the hideous thing.
The creature was on its feet now, stepping away from the corpse. It didn’t bother to wipe away the blood from its face. The eyes seemed to glow and Lorik wondered what might hurt the creature. He knew this was the source of the evil he had felt for so long. It was the reason he felt the need to come north. That instinct he’d written off as infatuation for Issalyn and then later as concern for her safety, but this inhuman creature was the real reason. He didn’t know what it was or where it had come from, but he knew he had to kill it.
He was near one of the many torches that were kept burning around the bottom of the pit. He locked his swords together and held them in his right hand, then snatched the torch up with his left hand.
“How about fire?” he shouted at the creature, making himself heard above the sounds of the frightened animals. “Do you burn?”
He moved toward the creature again, which moved methodically, giving the impression of slowness, but Lorik guessed the being, whatever it was, could move fast when it wanted to. Its long thin arms were barely bigger around that a human’s bones, but longer and covered in a tough layer of wiry muscle. Lorik watched the creature’s hands, leery of being swatted with its magic again. When he felt like he was close enough, he drew back the flaming torch, which sputtered, the flame flickering as it moved through the air. Then he threw it.
The torch flew end over end, the flames seemed to stretch out behind it. The torch was on target and would have hit the creature in the chest, but once again it raised its hand, only this time the wooden torch exploded. The fire winked out, and tiny bits of wood flew back toward Lorik before falling harmlessly to the ground.
Well, Lorik thought to himself, that didn’t mean the creature was immune to fire. He needed to find a way to close the distance with the awful creature. The thing moved toward the pig pen, and Lorik circled, keeping his distance as he wracked his brain for a plan. He needed a distraction, something to hold the creature’s attention while he attacked.
The pigs squealed so loudly that Lorik had trouble concentrating, and then to his surprise, the creature stepped over the railing and into the pen. The lower level of the pit stank with the smell of animals. The pens themselves were wooden structures, waist high, with hay scattered on the stone floor. The pigs had built up a thick layer of excrement, which they often rolled in. The creature didn’t flinch as its bare, skeletal foot sank into the muddy offal.
Lorik watched as the creature moved toward the group of terrified pigs. Then it bent low, reaching out with a long fingered hand and touched one of the pigs. They were small pigs, not the barnyard species found throughout the Five Kingdoms that often weighed between four hundred and five hundred pounds. These were smaller, not just piglets, but adult pigs of a different species. Still, they didn’t like being cooped up with the skeletal creature. The pig that was touched began to shake uncontrollably, and its squeal turned into screams.
The hair on the back of Lorik’s neck stood up, and he felt a thrill of fear run down his spine. The pig shook and screamed, then it collapsed and the creature reached for another. Lorik had been watching the pig, but when he glanced back at the creature he was shocked to see that it looked bigger. The emaciated muscles were now plumping up. Lorik guessed that whatever the creature was, it was gaining strength by killing the animals. He knew that time was now against him. If he did nothing, the creature would regain all its strength and Lorik remembered just how strong the man with the markings had been.
He moved quickly toward the pig pen. The animals were scooting around the edge of the wooden corral, trying to get away from the creature, but from the center of the pen it could reach out and touch the pigs in almost any direction.
The creature’s eyes opened wide as Lorik approached. He lifted his formidable weapon and twisted the linked handles, separating the swords once more. Lorik raised one of the fearsome blades, then slashed it down. The creature was well out of range, but it flinched anyway, drawing back and raising one hand. Lorik knew what was coming, but his sword had done what he intended for it to do. The wooden pen was no match for his powerful weapon; the wood splintered where his sword slammed down, and the entire side of the pig pen collapsed. The animals bolted free, running past Lorik and down a long, dark corridor that led off the central room of the pit.
The creature waved at Lorik and he instinctively raised his second sword in a defensive posture. The wave of magic hit him once again, but this time he felt a hot pulse from deep inside him, and although he was pushed back several steps, he was able to stay on his feet. He smiled.
Then he rushed toward the sheep pen and smashed it down as well. Just like the pigs, the sheep bolted for freedom, anxious to escape from the blood covered creature.
“You cannot defeat me,” it hissed.
The room was much quieter with the animals gone. The voice was eerie, part whispering hiss, part agonizing moan.
“I think I already have,” Lorik said, pointing his sword at the corpse on the floor.
“Your elvish enchantment is no match for the power of the Lord of Darkness.”
The creature’s words confirmed what Lorik had already guessed. His own magic was what he needed to defeat the evil being; he only needed to figure out how to channel it.
“You’re going to die,” Lorik said. “Of that I’m certain.”
“Arrogant mortal,” the creature hissed. “I cannot die.”
“Everything dies,” Lorik said.
He started forward, each step a deliberate decision to face his fear and find a way to kill it.
The creature’s hands raised up, palm out. Lorik crossed his swords, leaning forward in anticipation of the attack he knew was coming. What he hadn’t expected was the raw power of the dark magic. It was cold and terrifying, almost like standing in a ferocious winter gale. It pushed back against Lorik, but it also seemed to fill him with a supernatural dread. He felt weak and helpless, terror filled his mind and screamed at him to run, to hide, to escape in any way he could.
Then, just as he was about to give in and flee, he felt a tiny spark of warmth. It was like the first delicious waves of heat from a newly kindled fire when a person is bitterly cold. The spark grew, it was full of light, and it gave Lorik courage.
He looked up and saw the dismay in the evil creature’s eyes. He didn’t know where the warm glow was coming from or how to control it, he only knew he wanted more and that he wanted it to defeat the blood covered creature that was trying to kill him.
The magic began to flow out of Lorik, the hot wind of power billowed through him and he strained his muscles, concentrating on the feeling and his will to send it across the dark space between himself and the monster he was fighting.
The creature roared in fury, the scream of rage sounded like the screech of the panthers that sometimes hunted in the Marshlands. Lorik knew he was turning the tide, but when his own magic closed the distance it began to be disrupted. It was like sand in a storm, being blown away. Lorik had to push harder, to force his magic to move deeper and destroy the creature’s darkness. A bright light erupted near the creature, and Lorik felt his magic moving closer, but he also felt the magic being consumed. That part that blew away was lost, and Lorik could tell that the magic inside him wasn’t limitless. He had used a great part of it already and he instinctively knew that if he continued the fight, it would take all his magic. The special touch of the Drery Dru would be lost to him.
In his heart he mourned the loss. When the man with the markings on his body had used the Larish to steal the forest elves’ magic, he had felt robbed and helpless. But now it was his decision. He had to give up the magic freely if he was going to succeed. For a moment he wavered, wondering if he could just flee. The creature was weakened and alone. It might be years, maybe even decades before it was strong enough to become a threat again. Lorik wanted to leave, to find Issalyn and reclaim Ortis. He wanted to be forever by her side, to live in happiness away from war and strife. But he knew deep down that if he didn’t stop the evil creature, whatever it cost him, that no one would live in peace. The creature would get stronger and stronger, eventually strong enough to consume not only Ortis, but the entire Five Kingdoms and beyond.
He felt tears run down his checks as he redoubled his efforts. The magic rushed out of him in a powerful surge. The bright light moved toward the creature, who took a step backward. The bright magic of the Drery Dru was held at bay, slowly being stripped of its potency. Lorik stepped forward, the force that had been buffering him was no longer strong enough to stop him. The creature took another step back.
When Lorik moved forward, so did the bright sphere of light. He heaved against the invisible wall of magical resistance. The muscles in his legs, shoulders, and back burned with the effort. Then the creature took another step back, but this time the pig pen caused it to stumble. It reeled, backpedaling desperately in an effort to stay on its feet. Lorik felt the barrier that held him back slip away and he rushed forward, his boots splashing through the thick muck of the pig pen.
Then the ball of light engulfed the creature and it toppled onto its back. There was a terrible howling noise. Black bolts of lightning raged out in every direction. The ball of light shrank down to a single point, growing so bright Lorik had to close his eyes but he could still see the light. Then with a powerful sound like thunder, the light shattered the creature’s dark magic and raced up the pit and out of the castle.
Lorik was left standing in the center of the ruined pig pen. He was out of breath, and every muscle in his body ached. It was as if he’d just run for miles and miles, but the supernatural stamina he’d enjoyed since the Drery Dru had healed him after his fall from the King Tree was gone. He bent over, supporting his weight on his knees while he caught his breath.
Then, to his surprise he heard a gasping cry. He looked up and saw the blood covered creature. It was still alive. It lay on its back, the long arms and legs curled unnaturally, and seemed shriveled. The creature fought for breath and Lorik knew he needed to act before the thing regained its strength.
Each step was difficult, his massive legs felt heavy, as if the muck that clung to his boots from the pig pen was made of lead, not swine feces. He plodded forward, climbing slowly but deliberately over the far side of the pig pen which was still intact. The bloody creature was only a dozen paces away now. Lorik lumbered toward it, raising his sword in his weary hand as he went.
The creature caught sight of him, and tried to scurry away, but its limbs were useless. It opened its mouth, the forked tongue fluttering as it hissed. Lorik slammed his sword down, driving the point straight through the left eye socket. The creature’s body spasmed, then thrashed wildly. Lorik used his second sword to decapitate the creature, then he kicked the writhing body away. Unbelievably, the creature continued to hiss at him, its jaws snapping together over and over as if it would devour him if only it could get close enough.