The Buried Symbol (The Ruins of Issalia Book 1) (11 page)

The banshee took two steps toward Hank and swung its long arm. Sharp talons struck Hank on the left side of the head, sending him spinning to land hard three strides away. The blow caused Hank
’
s hat to fly off, flipping through the air to land at Brock
’
s feet. The crossbow smashed into the rock wall, bits of wood scattering into the air as it shattered.

The banshee turned in pursuit of the wagon, which was now almost to the road. Its long legs allowed it to cover ground quickly, despite its lumbering gait. Ren grabbed the reins just in time to avoid plunging over the cliff edge. The wagon turned east and sped out of sight with the banshee following fast behind.

Brock ran over to help Hank. The man lay on his stomach; his head twisted an odd way. He rolled Hank over. His stomach turned upon seeing the entire left side of Hank
’
s face gone. Raw pink and red flesh clung to the man
’
s skull. His left eye dangled from the socket and the man
’
s body twitched before becoming still.

Something inside Brock broke.
How could this happen? This was not supposed to happen.
He had to do something to make it right. He closed his eyes in frustration, the rune hovering in his vision.

His eyes flashed open to stare at his hand, full of Hank
’
s blood. In a move of bizarre intuition, he began to draw the rune from his vision onto the remaining side of the man
’
s forehead.

Horrified, Tipper screamed.
“
Brock, what are you doing? The man is dead! We have to get out of here!
”

Brock ignored him. He concentrated on the symbol, drawing it clean and exact.

He closed his eyes, focusing his mind on the rune he had drawn. Filled with fear and anger, he felt another energy, a heat just beyond the grasp of his mind. He mentally reached for it, thinking it was Hank
’
s life force. He pulled at it, feeling the heat grow. Suddenly, his body was flush with energy as a storming tempest raged within. His body felt alive, but with too much life as if he would explode. He opened his eyes and poured the energy into the rune he had drawn on Hank. The energy expelled as rapidly as it had come on, leaving him cold and tired.

Brock pulled his hand away, watching the rune as it glowed a bright, angry red. It pulsed before the glow began to fade.

A terrifying wail broke his focus. A second wail followed, growing louder. The banshee was returning.

Brock scrambled to his feet, backing from the entrance to the alcove. They were trapped with no other way out.

Hank
’
s body suddenly twitched and convulsed. The torn and bloody remains of Hank began to rise. In jerking motions, Hank came back to his feet. Hank
’
s remaining eye looked at Brock, the pupil now glowing red. Bits and pieces of flesh were hanging from the other side of the man
’
s face, his torn-out eye swinging as it dangled. The sight was even more horrifying than the banshee. Brock stepped backward, away from what was once Hank.

“
What have you done?
”
Tipper whispered.

Brock just stared, shaking his head. This is not what he wanted. This is not what was supposed to happen.

Hank turned shambled toward the road. The banshee re-appeared and blasted another horrible wail.

Hank attacked the banshee. As he came at the monster, it swung its huge arm and caught Hank in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the roadway and nearly over the cliff. The banshee wailed and lumbered forward. Hank stood to face the beast, his left arm hanging limply, shoulder torn wide open.

Again, the banshee swung at Hank. Hank spun into the swing, latching onto its arm.

While the banshee was huge, it appeared uncoordinated. The weight of a full-grown man at the end of its long arm pulled it off balance. It took a step, teetered for a second, and disappeared over the edge with Hank still latched on. A screeching wail followed, becoming more faint as the distance grew until it suddenly cut off.

Brock and Tipper ran to the edge to see what had become of the two horrifying creatures. All they could see was the dark water of the river far below.

Shocked by what had happened, they slowly walked back to the camp. They each sat on a rock near the coals of the now dormant fire. After a few minutes of silence, Brock spoke.

“
Tip, we can never speak of what happened here. I don
’
t understand it myself, but I don
’
t want to even think about it again.
”

Tipper
’
s response was a weak nod.

Brock grabbed his pack and stood.
“
Let
’
s leave this place. I can
’
t sleep here any longer anyway. I want to get far as from here as we can.
”

They walked out of the alcove and onto the road heading east. As he rounded the bend, Brock noticed dim light along the eastern horizon. It would be dawn soon. He ached for the daylight to come and wash away the horrors of this night.

CHAPTER 15

“
That must be Fenrick
’
s Crossing.
”
Brock pointed ahead.
“
We
’
ll be there in time for dinner.
”

Tipper broke into a grin.
“
Just thinking of hot food is making my stomach growl. No offense, but these trail rations are getting old very fast.
”

“
Hot food sounds amazing right now,
”
Brock agreed.

Brock took a drink from his water skin, now nearly empty. He put the skin away and forced his legs to move. At least it was all downhill from here. The weather had been hot, but not unbearably so. The high altitude of the mountains helped to moderate the temperature.

He counted fewer than a dozen buildings nestled against the river in the valley below. Trees and brush lined the banks of the river, creating a green stripe through the heart of the valley.

Tipper fell into line beside him, quiet for the moment. He had talked more than usual today, rambling about this and that. Brock expected it helped him avoid thinking about the events of the previous night.

The incline leveled as they reached the floor of the valley. Brock could now hear the ringing of a hammer on iron. Following the sound, he spotted a smith working outside at the edge of the village. The man
’
s hammer gleamed in the evening sun, reflecting a flash of light each time he raised it above his head. Delayed by the remaining distance, the ring from the smith
’
s pounding reached them during each upswing.

A rhythmic rumble echoed from behind. Brock turned to see two horses approaching. A man and a woman soon rode past, stirring up dust as they swept by.

He watched the two riders roll into the village, coming to a halt in front of what he assumed was the local inn. A man met the two riders, speaking with them before taking the horses around the far side of the building. The riders ducked into the front door of the inn.

Tipper waved at the smith as they walked past his yard. The man waved with his hammer and returned to the horseshoe he was working. The metal of the shoe glowed orange, sending sparks into the air with each strike.

Entering the village, Brock counted a row of five houses lining the south side of the road. The smithy, the inn, and two other buildings lined the north side. Ahead, the road vanished from sight where it descended down toward the river.

As they reached the inn, Brock read the words
Frenrick
’
s Inn
carved into a green stained door. He stepped into the building with Tipper a step behind. Before his eyes could adjust to the dark interior, his nose caught the delightful scent of cooked beef in the air.

The small dining room held ten tables and offered no bar. Three of the tables had patrons, including the man and woman who had just ridden into town. As Brock led Tipper across the room, they were startled by a loud squeal.

“
You
’
re alive! Thank Issal!
”
Ren rushed over to hug them. As usual, a torrent of words came rolling out.
”
I can
’
t believe it. I was hoping, but it seemed impossible. I got here and waited and waited and was giving up hope. Then you showed up. You
’
re here. I can
’
t believe it. Where
’
s Hank?
”
He smiled in expectation.

Brock glanced at Tipper, who had a haunted look in his eyes. Clearly, thoughts of Hank and the banshee had resurfaced. Brock turned to Ren, putting his hand on the younger boy
’
s shoulder.

“
Hank didn
’
t make it, Ren. I
’
m sorry,
”
Brock said, sympathetic.

Ren looked at Tipper and then back to Brock.
“
I don
’
t understand. What happened? How did you guys make it then?
”

Looking Ren in the eye, Brock spoke softly,
“
Hank saved us. He was somehow able to push the monster off the cliff, but the beast pulled Hank over with him. They
’
re both gone, Ren.
”

That quieted the talkative boy. He sat down as tears began to well up.

“
What am I going to do? I can
’
t do this alone. I need Hank,
”
he sobbed.

Brock sat on the bench across from Ren, motioning for Tipper join him.
“
Don
’
t worry, Ren. It isn
’
t something you need to solve this minute. Let
’
s order some food and we
’
ll see if we can help you figure out a plan.
”

Ren nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He used his sleeve to wipe his nose and glanced up as a serving girl walked by. After delivering two ales and two bowls to the couple who had recently arrived, she turned and strolled over to greet the boys.

Long red hair framed her pale young face. Large green eyes and lightly freckled cheeks surrounded her perky nose. The swooping neckline of her dress exposed the upper portion of her ample bosom. She appeared to be about Brock
’
s age, perhaps slightly older. Her full lips formed a smile as she approached the table. He smiled back, feeling a warm rush of desire for this pretty girl.

“
Ren, I see you
’
ve found some friends.
”
She looked them over, her hands on her curvy hips.
“
What can I get for you boys? Maybe something to drink? We also have some beef stew on the fire.
”

Ren responded,
“
These are my friends, Meg. This is Brock, and that
’
s Tipper. We met them on the road from Kantar.
”
Ren paused, his face turning sad again.
“
Hank
’
s dead, Meg. The banshee got him.
”

Meg reacted instantly, showing concern. Her hand rested on Ren
’
s shoulder as she spoke.
“
I
’
m so sorry, Ren. Hank was a good man. We
’
ll all miss him.
”
She pulled her hand away, placing both hands on the table to lean on them.
“
Don
’
t worry; my pa will still buy supplies from you. You still have our business.
”

As she leaned against the table, Brock found it difficult to look away from her chest. His heart was racing.

Ren didn
’
t seem to notice, responding immediately.
“
Thanks Meg. I have the load of supplies he requested in the yard out back. When do you think Derrick can go over the delivery?
”

Meg stood upright.
“
You
’
ll have to wait
‘
til tomorrow. He had to make a run to Hawk
’
s Landing and won
’
t be back
‘
til late morning.
”

Looking the boys over, she smiled again.
“
In honor of Hank, you boys eat and drink for free tonight. I
’
ll get you each a bowl of stew and some bread. Be right back.
”
She turned and left, her hips swaying as she walked.