Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (5 page)

“You, my lady?” Lourn asked confused. “But you have a coach with guards; you can travel to Symbor anytime you wish.”

“Aye, what you speak is true, but I have some delicate business that may require a little more discretion, and going to Symbor as a merchant would afford me that luxury. I would take along Rodraq and my elf maid as well.”

“If you wish to go I can’t stop you, my lady, but there will be little room for you on the return trip. The boys are picking up a shipment of ale, and the largest wagon I have is barely adequate when loaded, much less so if there are passengers to cart about.”

“Once we get to Symbor the return trip is of no consequence to me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I will have Rodraq procure a wagon of goods there for the return trip. What goods are you in need of other than ale?”

Lourn grinned, knowing that if he tried to continue the argument he would lose. “I shall make a list of dried goods I could use and will get it to you by the time you are to leave at first light.”

“Very well, my good innkeeper, we will be at your stable just before first light. Now, if you will excuse me I must return to my dinner.” Lady Shey bowed. The two men bowed in return. Dorenn lifted the tray with the goblets of ale and followed Lady Shey into the private dining room. He thought he saw the elf maiden and Lady Shey exchange nods.

As the night grew long and the patrons in the common room had either gone to bed or gone home, the rest of Lady Shey’s party finally decided to turn in for the night. Dorenn sat down in a chair near the main dining table to rest a moment and get off his feet. He was exhausted; the stores of ale had dwindled to just eight barrels, which would last the inn just about long enough for the trip to Symbor and back, Dorenn figured. He had almost forgotten that Tatrice had stopped him during the course of the evening and wanted to talk to him before he turned in. He was tired enough to avoid speaking to her altogether, but he reluctantly pulled himself up from the chair and made his way to the kitchen. As he neared the kitchen where Tatrice was working, it dawned on him that she must have found out about the trip to Symbor and was probably worried about it. How did she find out? Dread suddenly welled up inside him as he pushed open the kitchen door. Tatrice was cleaning up alone.

“Tatrice,” Dorenn began, “what did you want to talk to me about? I have to be up at first light.”

“I know,” Tatrice replied in a stern voice as she slammed some pots and pans into the washbasin. “Were you planning on telling me about this Symbor trip, or were you just going to be gone when I woke?”

“Tatrice, I…”

“What, Dorenn, do you still see me as a silly girl? Am I not important enough for you to confide in?”

“Well…” Dorenn let his eyes roll up to the side, knowing immediately it was the wrong thing to do.

Tatrice’s jaw dropped and then she slammed it shut, narrowing her eyes at him as if she could somehow strike him down with a gaze. More pots and pans crashed in the washbasin.

Dorenn smiled. “Tatrice, I’m not serious. I don’t think of you as a silly girl. I was going to tell you tonight after we finished serving Lady Shey’s party. I couldn’t very well stop serving ale long enough to…”

“Stop right there, Dorenn Adair. We had many opportunities to talk and you avoided me.”

“No, I didn’t. I was busy.”

“All right, if you were too busy to talk to me, then I am too busy to talk to you.”

Dorenn put his hand on Tatrice’s shoulder. “Tat, I…”

Tatrice pulled her shoulder away. “I said go, Dorenn, I am too busy,” she spat sarcastically.

Slowly Dorenn turned back to the kitchen door, unsure if Tatrice really wanted him to leave or if she was about to become angrier because he was leaving. Girls were so confusing, but he did not have the luxury of time to contemplate what she meant, so he decided to go to bed and talk to her in the morning.

As Dorenn left the kitchen, he heard Lady Shey’s voice coming from the private dining hall over more loud pots and pans crashing. He peeked in to see who she was talking to and saw the town elder women seated around the table sipping tea. Lady Shey said something about Sanmir the Apothecary then abruptly stopped and stared directly at the door. Dorenn moved away, hoping she had not seen him. He decided he was not interested in what the women folk had to say; it probably had something to do with men. They were never satisfied with what the men folk were up to anyway. Dorenn yawned, stumbled tiredly to his bedchamber, and fell asleep on his bed without even getting into his nightclothes.

Chapter 3: The Apothecary

Dorenn was awakened by a tapping at his window. He opened his eyes and rose angrily, searching for the source of the irritation. Faint noises growing stronger, much like the sound of beating wings, startled him lucid. He jumped from his bed to peer out the window. Searching the darkness of the street below, he thought he saw Fadral scurrying out from the shadow of the inn. He flipped the latch clasping the windows shut, swung them open, and leaned out to call to him. Cool mountain air rushed inside and made him shiver. The street below was barren, and Dorenn listened for the beating sound that woke him but heard nothing. He yawned sleepily and pulled the windows closed. He reached for the window clasp and began to latch it when he caught the sight of a dark figure swooping down from the roof of the inn, gliding silently to the street. The tall figure loomed hunched over and then it straightened. Its body was tall, too tall. It looked as if it wore a long cloak. Dorenn opened the windows again to get a better look. The cloaked figure stood silently, unmoving. Dorenn strained to call out, but his words froze in his throat. The hair on the back of his neck began to creep up and goose pimples covered his arms. Fear griped him as the figure’s cloak shimmered, moving outward and upward like two colossal bat wings. Instinctively, Dorenn took a knee to hide beneath the window and out of the creature’s line of sight.

From his crouched position, Dorenn blinked and rubbed his eyes with his fists, but the apparition remained. Without warning, the creature’s head turned to look directly at his window, and Dorenn trembled in fright as he saw two red eyes staring back at him. He backed away from the window, stumbling over his own feet and falling to the floor with a thud. The sound of beating wings returned, and Dorenn clawed at his bed trying to get up. The sound abated, and Dorenn was surprised to see a hideous maw with long fangs inset within a twisted black face that stretched like leather over a deformed skull, elongated and gaunt. It appeared to have two small slits where a nose should have been and spiny bones jutting out around the eyes and jaw. He tried to scream but fear froze his throat tight. The creature moved to get into the small window, but it had trouble folding its wings close enough around its body to squeeze in. It saw Dorenn and made a high-pitched whine of glee as it tried to claw its way inside to get at him.

Dorenn frantically searched his room in vain for something to defend himself with. The creature coughed and hacked at the boy as it tried to get in, and Dorenn felt something thick and wet hit his chest. He stumbled as he backed away from the window, pushing with his feet as hard as he could. Then, as the creature finally began to force itself through the window, its face twisted in pain and it let out a chilling squeal. It backed itself out of the window with haste and squealed again. With two beats of its bat-like wings it took flight and was gone.

For a long moment, Dorenn sat against his bed motionless except for the heaving of his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He was too afraid to move. As his courage slowly returned, he moved to the window and peered out. He saw someone who looked like Sanmir standing in the street.

“Dorenn, is that you, lad?” he heard a voice say. It was Sanmir the Apothecary.

“Aye,” Dorenn called back, “what was that thing? Did you see it?”

Sanmir motioned to Dorenn. “Come down here, we need to get you to my shop at once!”

“What?” Dorenn asked confused.

“Come quickly, boy. You are in danger!”

Dorenn looked down at his tunic and watched, horrified as the front of it seemed to disintegrate before his eyes. A sharp sting burned his chest. “What is it?” Dorenn shrieked.

“No time to explain, move!”

Dorenn rushed out his door and down the stairs, surprised that no one had been awakened by the creature’s squeals. He met Sanmir in the street, and the tall Darovan elf grabbed Dorenn’s tunic and ripped it from his body with one hard tug. He clutched Dorenn’s arm and pulled him along behind him. Dorenn tried to keep up, but he kept jamming his feet on the cold cobblestones.

“What are you doing, Sanmir? You are hurting my arm, not to mention my toes.”

“Hush up, boy, stop whining and come along, quickly, quickly. There is no time!”

Dorenn began to get worried, and his chest burned as they moved. Sanmir’s apothecary shop was not far to the north of the inn, and as soon as they reached it Sanmir opened the painted wooden door and thrust Dorenn inside. The light from the fireplace and various lanterns hanging from beams in the ceiling illuminated a room covered floor to ceiling with shelves full of bottles and jars. Dorenn looked down at his chest and found it red and burning; blood oozed, and raw skin began to flay away.

Sanmir took one of the jars down from a back shelf and pulled something out that appeared to be yellow mud. With his two forefingers, Sanmir splattered the yellow mud on to the burn on Dorenn’s chest and rubbed it in. It felt cool to the touch and the pain of the burn subsided. “What was that thing, Sanmir?” Dorenn asked again.

Sanmir continued rubbing the yellow mud deeper into Dorenn’s damaged skin. “Some might call it a Shadow Lurker and some a Drasmyd Duil.” He wiped the yellow substance from his hands on a nearby cloth. “A nasty creature. You’re lucky, boy.

“Where did it come from?”

Sanmir put the jar back on the shelf. “Scarovia or Abaddonia, I would imagine. Drasmyd Duil are creatures the dark wielder Toborne created as spies and assassins.”

“But why would it come after me?”

Sanmir’s expression turned thoughtful. “Why indeed.”

“Sanmir?”

Sanmir’s thoughtfulness faded. “Perhaps you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps it felt it needed to get at you because you saw it.” Sanmir suddenly seemed irritated. “It could have been after you for many reasons.”

Dorenn did not quite accept Sanmir’s explanation but dared not question him further on the matter. “Will…will I be all right then?” Dorenn looked at the yellow mud on his chest.

“Aye, that salve will draw out the poison and stop the pain.”

“Poison? It poisoned me?”

“Drasmyd Duil cough up a poison that eats away at the flesh. It is very difficult for them to produce, so they only spit it under extreme circumstances.” Sanmir’s pointed ears twitched. “Better not say anything about this to anyone in the village; it will put everyone in a fright.” Sanmir scratched his head. “I don’t believe anyone else noticed it; none that I could see anyway.”

“But Sanmir, it got away. What if it attacks someone else?” Dorenn asked, clearly alarmed.

“Don’t worry, it won’t. I doubt it will survive more than an hour.” He leaned in and smiled devilishly. “You see, I have dealt with its kind before.”

“What did you do?” Dorenn asked suspiciously.

“Never you mind that, boy, just suffice it to say those creatures don’t venture near Darovan anymore.” Sanmir winked.

Dorenn suddenly felt dizzy and had trouble standing upright. He pulled up a nearby chair and sat down.

“Careful, boy, that salve has a tendency to make one drowsy.”

“What was in it?”

“Even if I told you it wouldn’t mean much to you. It’s best to leave its contents to me. Why don’t you sit back, and I will get the door.”

Dorenn heard a knocking at the door, and he wondered if someone had been tapping on it before Sanmir went to answer it. “Who would be coming around this time of night?” Dorenn heard himself say as if he were somehow detached from his body. Dorenn blinked; his vision was blurring. “Sanmir, I…” Dorenn slipped into a euphoric state. Everything around him seemed as a dream.

“It’s about time you stopped by,” Dorenn thought he heard Sanmir say. “I wondered when you would come around here again.”

“I had to wait until Dellah Adair was satisfied that I was comfortable in my room before I could slip away,” Dorenn heard a familiar voice say.

“It is good to see you, Shey,” Sanmir said. “It has been far too long.”

Dorenn tried to stand again, but his legs would not support him. He saw Lady Shey as if he were looking at her from the end of a long tunnel.

“What happened to the boy?” Lady Shey asked worried. “Is he well?”

“He will be fine; in fact, he will soon be sleeping. He had a nasty run-in with a Shadow Lurker.”

Lady Shey’s voice turned frantic. “We have to get him away from Brookhaven with all haste. Obviously, it isn’t safe here any longer,” she said.

“Where will you take him?” Sanmir asked bluntly. “Do you know where the Drasmyd Duil came from?”

“I have my suspicions. I will fill you in on my travels soon enough.” She watched Dorenn for a moment, and he made sure he shut his eyes. “In the morrow we will journey to Symbor. Ianthill made it clear to me to travel through Cedar Falls; he has instructed me to stay the night there.”

“Why Cedar Falls?”

“Ianthill was vague on that point, I’m afraid,” Lady Shey answered. “But I think he means to meet up with us there.”

“He is sure of your persuasive abilities.”

“Naturally, although I didn’t have to do much persuading. Lourn is sending the boy to Symbor anyway. I just had to hitch a ride.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I promised to help stock the inn. He couldn’t refuse.”

“No, I suppose he had a hard saying no to that.”

Dorenn fought sleep with all of his might, but it took all of his strength to do so.

“I hope you took care of that Shadow Lurker?” Lady Shey said, cutting her eyes at Sanmir.