Windcatcher: Book I of the Stone War Chronicles (11 page)

But for now, Raylan stood next to Galen, pondering over the statue. Galen had brought his hammer, so they could break it up into smaller pieces and move them with the wagon. Having a moment to look at the stone terror, Raylan noticed the amount of detail the giant statue received during its transformation. It made him pause and take a good look at this fearful and unknown opponent.

When he first saw it in the back of the wagon, it was no more than a rugged squarely formed man, with big blocks for feet and hands barely containing any lines at all. Legs were stuck together and arms looked solid against the torso of the statue. Now looking at the fallen foe, he noticed both hands and feet were remarkably human. Greatly detailed toes and fingers were present; he could even see veins running on the stone’s surface, here and there. Its chest, arms and legs all formed into the shape of stone muscles, but the stone surface still looked very rough. It was as if the statue was cut out of the side of a mountain, no polishing or caretaking, no smoothing by water. Its neck ended in a crumbled stump where Galen had swung his war hammer, time and time again. The complete body looked immensely heavy.

Looking at Galen, Raylan stepped forward.

“Might as well start with the arms and work our way down. That chest part is going to be troublesome to carry, I bet.”

Raylan knelt down next to the stone body to pick up the arm and drag it outward, so Galen could more easily aim at the elbow joint. As if a living statue had not been strange enough for Raylan, he now witnessed—to his surprise—that the lightest touch of his hand made the stone giant’s body suddenly crumble into dust right in front of his eyes. Nothing but a fine black dust remained on the ground before him, part of it already blowing away in the soft wind.

Looking up—in surprise—to Galen, Raylan gave a small shrug.

“Saves us a lot of trouble moving it around.”

“Fine by me,” Galen smiled. Swinging his war hammer onto his shoulder, they walked away to help with the remaining things.

“I wonder why it suddenly fell apart though.”

“I don’t know. It must have something to do with those sudden windblasts. Perhaps that blue energy leaving the statue destroyed the stone’s strength…”

After joining the others and clearing out the remainder of the enemy encampment, both wagons were pushed over the edge of the chasm. The wagons disappeared with a loud crash, somewhere down in the darkness, out of view.

Returning to the rock formation, Raylan did a final sweep of the area before he mounted his horse. He found Ca’lek on his knees, drawing a pattern in the sand. His face had smudges of dirt mixed with blood across his forehead and cheeks.

“What are you doing?” said Raylan.

“An old hunting custom. When blood ran to ground, my father would always do this tribe-ritual to show thanks for a successful hunt and to guide what had stopped living back to the earth to be born again,” explained Ca’lek.

After that, Raylan saw Ca’lek put his closed fists to his forehead and bring his head down to the pattern on the ground. The scout muttered a few soft words, which Raylan could not fully hear, before getting up and erasing the pattern with his feet.

After that, everyone was ready to set off. Kevhin returned from his position near the edge of the clearing. He had not seen any sign of the scouting unit they worried might show up. The wagon was loaded with the chest and its sacred dragon egg. Restocked with wood to slowly burn, it would keep a high temperature for the remainder of the day and most of the night.

Gavin placed himself on the driver’s bench next to Harwin, who handled the reins. Stephen was in the back of the wagon with the chest, the remains of Regis, and the rest of the provisions. The rest of the squad had already mounted their horses.

The small group headed out. Ca’lek took the lead, so he could scout ahead, at times. He was followed by Galen and Peadar, each leading an extra horse. The wagon was next, after which Xi’Lao, Kevhin and Rohan took their places, with four extra horses trailing behind them.

Raylan and Richard took up the rear.

As Raylan put his foot in the stirrup and climbed on his horse, Richard approached with his own horse, pausing briefly as Raylan shifted in his saddle to get comfortable, before they nudged their horses into a walk.

Looking up to the sky, Richard took a deep breath. A soft dribble of rain started up again.

“Looks like the gods are in favor of us. The rain will wash away our tracks, so for once, it’s a welcome sight.”

Although Raylan did not have much belief in the gods anymore, he could do nothing but agree. Swaying gently in his saddle, he looked back to the rock formation, getting more and more distant behind them. As they left the clearing and rode off into the forests again, he silently hoped that their luck would continue.

Chapter 4

Darkness

Koltar Wayler heard his hastened steps echo through the empty corridors. The black stone on the floors and walls gave a cold feel to the palace that no fire could warm up. Walking up the stairs in one of the outer towers, he saw glances of the palace exterior through the tower windows. The window opening was tall and narrow, only showing small bits of the layout of the black palace complex.

Koltar had no time to be impressed by the view, besides he had seen it a thousand times. The long sleek towers sticking out of the different parts of the palace all ended in sharp rounded roofs at their peaks. It still baffled him how they managed to build such a monstrous structure in such a short time a few decades ago. Many would say the foundation was built on the bodies of those who perished during its construction. Furthermore, for a complex that was less than half a century old, it felt as though it had been there for a thousand years.

The palace was built on the side of a mountain cliff, and the mountain slopes were as black as the palace itself. This was not surprising, since part of the rock face had been cut out to make room for the palace; the stone slabs hewn from the mountain, in turn, were used to construct the immense structure with its dozens of towers.

The only approach to the palace was a long, narrow road on the side of the mountain which arrived at the dark palace’s main gate. Below, in the valley, was a gray city. Buildings were packed tightly together with a number of main streets and loads of narrow back alleys running between the cramped blocks. The houses went on for miles, until the far end hit the riverside.

The city lacked colors as much as it lacked happiness. A strict regime was present; no one was allowed to enter or leave without official permission granted by the city watch soldiers. A curfew was enforced and people felt the constant presence of the dark palace hovering above them. Life was hard and unequal in the city with much poverty and people constantly exploiting one another. The only reason people settled in a city so unpleasant and dangerous was for the safety in numbers and the belief in the lies of their ruler. Once a citizen there, one could not easily leave. The wilderness on the Dark Continent held many mortal dangers such as: savage tribes, bandits, forest spirits, long lasting winters and many different predators. One could easily lose their life to a vicious bear, a mountain cat, a large hunting bird or cunning and cruel wolves that moved around in large packs. Not to mention, there were some creatures out there that you would normally only see in your nightmares.

The large timber wolves were one of the fiercest predators on the continent. Reaching shoulder height, these wolves were known to be relentless killing machines, hard to fight off when they traveled in packs. Instances were known where large groups of timber wolves decimated an entire village in one night, indiscriminately killing man, woman and child. At least the city’s high stone walls provided some safety against these kinds of dangers.

The road that led out of the city, toward the dark palace, inclined upward to the full metal doors of the main gate. However, it came up short fifty feet, stopping at the edge of a large gulch. A long drawbridge, made of thick wood, provided passage across the gap. The wood was manipulated by various oils and substances, so that it almost matched the black stone in darkness. The deep blackness of the mountain pass and palace meant that any person who did not watch where they were going could have easily overlooked the fact that the draw bridge was up and the road had just stopped. Weary travelers were known to accidentally walk off the edge and plunge into the depths, especially on moonless nights.

The gate opened into the main square, completely walled off on four sides with a smaller gate on the far end leading further into the palace. A number of halls and rooms were present in the front square part of the structure. Once you ventured further into the building, a maze of small corridors that turned back on themselves welcomed you. Straight and winding staircases connected different levels of floors, making it increasingly difficult to keep one’s sense of direction. Some of the higher towers were linked to each other with high walking bridges. Those walkways were narrow and often treacherous because of rain and hard winds dancing around the highest reaches of the structure.

At the back of the palace was a large dome, an area accessible to a select few. The dark palace held almost no secrets for Koltar anymore. From the deepest darkest dungeon passages to the highest tower steps, he felt like he had walked them all…hundreds of times. But even he had only set foot in the back part of the palace a handful of times. His lordship did not tolerate any ordinary person in this area, and many rumors about this part of the palace circulated constantly.

As one of the five High Generals, Koltar had once come close to the dome part of the structure years ago. His lordship had abruptly broken off their conversation and ordered him to stay behind, leaving him alone in the great hallway which provided access to the back part of the palace. Seeing his lordship walk off toward the main doors, Koltar had soon become aware of the staring guards.

The back area of the palace that housed the dome had its own special army of guards. The unit did not have an official name but was simply referred to as the ‘Darkened’. A fighter amongst the Darkened was a foul and scarred soldier. Heavily brainwashed, these were not good men; each of them were stripped of emotion and hardened expert fighters…but most of all, they were extremely disciplined. They were considered the tainted elite, the kind of people you avoid at all costs—night and day—if at all possible. Soldiers and civilians alike dared not stand in the way when one of them walked the halls. A Darkened could strike down any person without question. There would be no repercussions, as they were not subject to any of the laws but the Stone King’s will. They answered directly to his lordship and did his bidding without question, doubt, or remorse.

The common folks have another name for them: the Silent Shadows. While the Darkened were usually not the smallest of men, they were capable of moving at surprising speed with very little sound. Each member actually had his tongue removed when taking on the position. This way, his lordship made sure none could speak of what they accidentally saw or heard. Their discipline was needed at all times, for if a Darkened was caught taking a look into the dome—however brief a glance—both his eyes were burnt out as punishment.

Koltar was not known as a pleasant man; he had a reputation for being ruthless. He easily held his own and was known for keeping command with an iron fist. He had a tendency to lose his cool which, in combination with his fighting skill, made him an extremely dangerous man. But at that point in time, even he turned around to escape the unpleasant hollow stares of the Darkened. While walking away, he heard his lordship go through the door to enter the dome. He remembered, he took note of this strange occurrence. As soon as his lordship stepped through the door, a low rumbling resonated through the hall. He felt it in his stomach and, at the time, wondered if it was a giant mechanism with wheels of some sorts.

Although the Darkened was the most unpleasant presence in the palace, walking the lower parts of the palace was a scary experience for most normal people as well. The tiny stairs and dark hallways echoed with muffled screams, rising up from the dungeons; but Koltar did not care much for the people to whom the screams belonged, and paid little attention to them.

When he felt extremely restless, he liked taking on the role of torturer. He discovered it brought him a special kind of calmness, especially when he brought someone to the edge of madness with nothing more than physical pain. He felt an icy calm rage when working on prisoners—an internal storm with perfect outer control. He often pictured his own father sitting in the chair. The man had been an abusive thug who often savagely beat his mother, and him, to pulp.

It had gone on for years, his mother was too much of a coward to stand up to his farther, and far too much of a coward to ever consider leaving him. Entering his teens, Koltar finally developed the physical strength to fight back. Despising his mother’s cowardliness, he had vowed to never again give in to fear.

People that knew him during that time said he was incredibly brave, but it was more than that. His stubbornness and vicious rage almost made him blind to any danger when he got angry. It was not until later in life that he learned to keep himself in check, if he wanted to. It made letting go even more enjoyable.

He often regretted killing his own father. Not so much because the man was dead, but because the bastard had died so easily, ending his suffering much too quickly. He had learned from it, so he took his time with the prisoners, making sure none of them expired before all information was extracted and his inner restlessness was stilled.