Rides a Dread Legion Free with Bonus Material Read online

  Sandreena ignored the breeze off the mountain, which raised gooseflesh on her body, waiting patiently to dry enough to don her fresh clothing. This was the part she hated most, for now she could do nothing but let the air dry her. Now she wished for a towel and realized she really would have preferred being sent somewhere with at least a tub and hot water.

  Finally judging herself dry enough, she put on her clean smallclothes. She pulled on a fresh tunic and trousers, leggings, and clean head-covering she wore under her mail coif to keep her hair from becoming tangled in the metal links.

  Once she had clothes on, she audibly sighed and pulled on her boots. Again she wondered about taking a squire as she struggled to get the stubborn things back on.

  By the time she was dressed, the clothes hanging on the tree were no longer dripping, though they were still thoroughly soaked. She gathered them up and carried them up the hill to the inn, her helm under her arm and her mace in her left hand.

  Reaching the inn, she saw another horse in the run-in next to hers and recognized it as the bandits mount the boys on the wagon had seized. She then found the wagon at the back door, being unloaded by the two boys she had encountered earlier in the day. She shouted, One of you see my horse gets a bag of grain and Ill give you a copper.

  Both boys looked at one another, as if weighing the offer against what their father might do if they left off the unloading. Silently, they nodded and two fists were raised, pumping up and down twice and on the third pump, one shouted odd, and the other shouted even. Both boys had two fingers extended, and the one who had shouted even smiled and leaped down from the wagon, lifting a bag of grain off the ground and carrying it to the run-in shed. The other boy glowered at Sandreena but said nothing as he continued his work.

  Inside the inn, Sandreena spread her cloak out over the back of a chair closest to the fire and put her wet tunic, trousers, leggings, and smallclothes down next to it on the floor.

  Supper is ready, said the woman as she came out from the kitchen. If she had any objections to the guest drying her clothing before the fire, she did not voice them.

  Sandreena put her bag and weapons under the table, but close at hand. Years on the road had taught her that the unexpected was far worse a source of pain and misery than trouble you saw coming.

  Glancing around the room, she reaffirmed there were only two entrances: the one from outside, and the one from the back of the building, where she assumed both her room and the kitchen lay, as well as the familys quarters. As inns went, this wasnt the worstthat honor went to a hovel in Kesh, which had four walls and a roof. There were no tables or chairs, no bar, and no rooms. Everyone ate on the floor from cooking done before an open fireplace and slept where they ate. But this inn was only marginally better.

  When the woman appeared, she was followed by the man from the wagon and the two boys. As food was placed before her, the man said, You. From the road.

  Sandreena nodded, not entirely sure if that was an accusation or a question.

  You said youd pay my boy a copper to feed your horse.

  Yes.

  Give it to me.

  Sandreena didnt argue, but pulled out a coin and put it on the table. The man snapped it up. That is for his work. The oats are two more.

  She put a silver coin on the table and said, For today and tomorrow. If I stay longer, Ill pay in advance.

  The man only nodded. Im Enos, this is Ivet, and my boys are Nicolo and Pitor. Your room is at the end of the hall.

  Sandreena nodded. My temple got reports of bandits. I see they were true.

  The man paused as he started to turn away, and then turned back toward her. Why does your temple know this? Who told them?

  Sandreena was a little surprised at the question rather than a simple admission. The man seemed more concerned with how the information reached the Temple of Dala than with someone arriving to help.

  Does that matter?

  The man shrugged.

  I dont know. I was simply ordered here by my Father-Bishop. It seems the Empire is too busy elsewhere to protect you.

  Protect? said Enos with a bitter, barking laugh. Those are worse than bandits. The tax men. They come, they take, they leave. They do nothing for us.

  Pirates and bandits. Smugglers and He stopped himself. We dont need help. We manage.

  Sandreena weighed her words carefully. She said, Im sure, and Im not here to help you.

  The mans eyes narrowed, as if he didnt understand, but he said nothing.

  Im here to get information to take back to my temple.

  What sort of information? asked Enos suspiciously.

  Sandreena said, Just why this out-of-the-way village is being ravaged.

  The look of alarm that was barely hidden by Enos and Ivet was noticeable, but the boys positively went white with fear. There was something here that was far from ordinary, and she felt as if she had just stuck a stick into a hornets nest.

  She didnt need the sudden look of panic that descended on the family before her to warn her something bad was about to happen. She had too many unpleasant encounters in the last few years to be taken completely unawares, but she had let her attacker get too close.

  She stood and, in a single fluid motion, kicked her chair straight back as she lifted the table and turned it over, then kneeling and having her mace in her hand before she was fully turned. The chair had struck a man in the legs, slowing him just long enough that she was ready as he swung his sword at her, trying to remove her head from her shoulders.

  He, however, didnt expect her to move so quickly, and was shocked for a brief instant as he tried to regain his balance, just before her mace slammed into the side of his head. The blow propelled the man sideways and down, landing him in a heap on the floor. It also knocked off a black leather hat he had worn.

  Sandreena had seen enough bodies hitting the ground to know this man wasnt going to answer any questions. She hadnt intended to kill him, but battle-honed reflexes had taken over.

  For a moment she inspected the body. Her would-be assassin wore a dark maroon tunic, black trousers, and black leather boots. He had a black cape, tied with a golden clasp, which looked more a gentlemans garb for an evening out in Roldem than any sort of serviceable travel wear, so she assumed he had stolen it.

  The side of his head was caved in, with blood running from nose and ears, and his eyes were set wide in an expression of surprise. They had been a vivid blue, but there was something about the eyes of the dead that always made them look greyish to Sandreena, no matter what the original color.

  She knelt down and inspected him. There was no belt purse, only an ordinary dagger, and no other signs of who he might have been. The only personal item she discovered was a chain around his neck, from which hung a token, a black balled fist made out of iron or some other base metal.

  She picked up the leather hat and turned to Enos and his family. A Black Cap, I presume?

  Enoss eyes were wide with terror and he seemed unable to speak. He merely nodded.

  Sandreena stood, righted the table and chair, and, ignoring the body on the floor, sat down. I think you need to tell me some things, she said.

  Softly, in a whisper, Enos said, We are all going to die.

  CHAPTER 11

  UPHEAVAL

  Gulamendis howled.

  A primal sound erupted from his throat as he threw back his head and unleashed his frustration in the only way he could. The sound was quickly engulfed in the endless pounding of waves on the rocks, as the Demon Master of the Taredhel stood on the bluffs above. He knew this moment was coming, but against hope he labored on, seeking the source of the demon signs he had encountered.

  An emotional people, the Taredhel still knew how to keep within themselves when required. On the rocky bluffs of this wilderness, miles from any sign of habitation, human, dwarf, or anything remotely intelligent, he felt no such constraint. He raised his hand and conjured up a seething mass of mal energy, a writhing ball of mystic black
tendrils within a dark purple sphere of light, and hurled it down toward the rocks below.

  The ball struck a massive boulder and, in a satisfying display of pyrotechnics, exploded in a purple flame of blinding brilliance. It released dark clouds of smoke and sent a scintillating show of silver and white sparks in all directions, and when the ocean breeze blew away the smoke, all was as it had been before. The only sign of Gulamendiss outburst was a patch of bare rock, devoid of moss and lichen. Otherwise, the ocean and the rocks below were indifferent.

  Gulamendis chuckled at his own childish outburst, and sat down to ponder his next move in this terrible and dangerous game. His original plan was simple: follow the demon sign long enough to establish exactly what it was. He had almost complete certainty that what he detected was a conjuration, for there was a difference, almost as if the lingering residue had a different quality, or flavor, between summoned demons and those that entered this realm unbidden. He had noticed that the first time he had encountered demons along the frontier on Diaziala, when the first conflict erupted in what would be this long and bitter war his people were losing.

  He had become intrigued. Who was this summoner of demons, this being who could order them into this realm, as he did? For in his travels, Gulamendis had met few who could, and none who could match his abilities. He would be first to admit he had been lucky over the years, yet he also would take credit for learning what there was luck brought to him. He was an apt student of his craft, as his brother had been with magic of the mind.

  He sighed and stood up. The demon was across that sea, and while he had no certainty, he suspected it was a very long way off, perhaps on the other side of this world. He had demons he could conjure that could fly, could carry him, but none could cross such a vast distance.

  Besides, there were more important matters closer at hand than satisfying his academic and professional curiosities. Finding the other demon master would have to wait.

  He was now faced with the task set before him by the Regent Lord: to investigate the elves to the north, in a place called Elvandar. He felt a strange tugging at the thought, for while the Taredhel had established their own order of things, their own view of the universe, still at heart they were Edhel, the People, and ancient ties still abided.

  He considered what he knew of this region. He stood on the bluffs overlooking the sea, in a land the humans called the Far Coast. He believed himself to be near a city called Carse, south of another human population center, Crydee. North of that was the Elven Forest, if his brothers intelligence was accurate, and Laromendis was nothing if not thorough. He weighed what he had in his travel bag and judged it a difficult journey on foot.

  He took one very long look around his position, knowing deep down he was unobserved, but still being cautious. He closed his eyes and began a summoning, and within a moment a huge steed appeared before him. Hell spawn, it might be, a demon of a lower cast, but it was very much like a horse, and he could ride it. Moreover, if it stayed uninjured, it could run as fast as the swiftest horse. In any case, it was a sight to behold.

  The creature blinked its huge black eyes against the light of day. It looked around and snorted. It had been summoned by this elf before and knew better than to attack or try to escape, for this was its master. It lowered its head and waited.

  It looked as much like a huge dog as it did a horse, though the legs were long and the body slender. It had a pointed snout, almost lizard-like, and the ears flattened back against the creatures skull, like a cats when angry. A stub of a tail didnt wag in greeting, but rather trembled slightly, a warning among its own kind that it was ready to attack.

  Gulamendis closed his eyes again, using a spell taught him by his brother, a glamour that would have any onlooker, save those with exceptional magic ability, see only a horse. It was akin to the spell Laro had used to disguise himself as a human while he traveled this land, and it had served him well.

  Gripping the creatures scaly hide at the withers, the elf leaped onto the creatures back and, using his legs, turned it northeast. There was a good-sized road a few miles in that direction, and it would take him to the human town of Crydee. There he might investigate a little, before traveling north to see his long-lost kin.

  Gulamendis moved his demonic mount through the fields. He had taken to riding off the road, just in sight of it, and found a game trail through the barrier land between the fields of a scattering of farms south of Crydee. He had abandoned what the locals called the Kings Highway when he found humans staring at him. At first he worried about his mount somehow not being disguised effectively by his illusion spellhe knew he was nowhere close to being the master his brother wasbut he realized the second time some human children had risen up in the back of their parents wagon, shouting and pointing, it was the mere fact of being an elf that had caused the excitement. Despite this regions proximity to the Elven Forest, it was apparent that elves rarely ventured south of what was called the River Boundary, and that he was the object of much scrutiny and comment.

  At least, from what he could overhear, these humans gave no hint they perceived him to be any different, in attire, manner, or mount, from the local elves. Still, he decided stealth served him better than trying to play the part of a local elf, and at first opportunity turned eastward, away from the road.

  He could ride along between the boundaries of these farms, most of the time being within sight of the road, without attracting too much notice. The crops were ripening, but not ready for harvest, so the fields tended to be unoccupied, and on those few occasions when he spied humans in the fields, he avoided them. His perceptions were clearly superior to theirs, so he felt no risk of detection.

  When he came to a relatively close cluster of farmhouses, he rode farther eastward, into the woodlands that led into the deeper forest, called the Green Heart by the locals, and moved north. In these woods he felt a strange disquiet, the echoes of presences that were both somehow familiar and yet alien. It was times like these he wished he had had more time to speak with his brother on what Laromendis had discovered about this place.

  As he returned to the strip of boundary land between farms, the sun set in the west, providing an unusually brilliant display of red, orange, pink, and gold light against grey clouds on the horizon. Gulamendis found himself holding back emotions, for it was hardly the first spectacular sunset he had seen over an ocean, but it was the first he had seen over an ocean on Midkemia. When last he had looked out over the seascape, it had been a grey and forlorn day, with haze masking the boundary between sea and sky.

  Every day he spent on this world reinforced one thing over all others: this was their Home. And something was wrong.

  He couldnt put his finger on the exact nature of this sense of wrongness, merely that he felt out of phase with this place. And he knew deep down that the wrongness was within himself, not with this place. Perhaps the generations on other worlds, away from the nurturing magic that was Midkemia, had changed the People. He didnt know, but he also knew concerns such as this one were academic compared to the immediate need to find his distant kin and discover what sort of allies they might be.

  For as certain as he sat on this masked demon, riding along in the evenings twilight, he knew he alone from those laboring in the valley to the southeast understood the threat that was poised to strike this world. Deep inside him, another certainty was rising: this would be the last battle. If the Demon Legion found its way to Midkemia, if they discovered a path from Andcardia to this world, their Home, then all of the Edhel, every last elf born of this soil, every last elf returned from distant worlds, all would perish.

  Crydee had proven an interesting and entertaining diversion for a short while. Gulamendis had easily avoided a noisy and ill-organized town watch that had marched the perimeter of the town with little attention to details. It was clear this was a place untroubled by conflict for some years now. He had ridden quietly through an otherwise dark street past one or two buildings with lights on, but att
racted no attention to himself.

  The harbor had a tidy waterfront, with a long neck of land to the north boundary running out to a stone tower that appeared to be more of a watchtower than a lighthouse. There was a light, but it was hardly a beacon, being more of a single brazier that gave a faint illumination. Gulamendis assumed no ships were scheduled to arrive after dark, and any arriving unannounced would do well to lie off the coast and wait for dawn to enter the harbor.

  He turned his mount northeast from the mouth of the harbor and skirted the town along its northern boundary. He was curious about the castle high above the town, on a steep rise, but knew it would be guarded by men more able than the town watch he had avoided. He still knew little about these humans, but he was an elf of keen observation and sharp wits.

  Their social organization showed them to be in command of the region. Whatever neighbors might have troubled them in the pastelves, dwarves, goblins, or trollsthey had been driven out or disposed of. That made the humans dangerous.

  His race had not encountered humans in centuries, and those encounters had always ended in bloody war. While some human tribes had been relatively peaceful, a large number had proven warlike and aggressive, and after several failed treaties with various tribes, the stance of the Taredhel had shifted from peaceful contact and negotiation to preemptive obliteration.

  The dwarves had proven more troublesome in some ways, less in others. They were much tougher and difficult to root out of their underground communities, but they also were far less aggressive, willing to stay within their own territories without problems. Only twice had warfare erupted with dwarven clans, but both had been protracted, bloody wars.