Rise of the DarkWalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II

Present day

Carter stepped out the front door of the house, tugging at the sides of the waist of the loaned trousers. The male half-dragon was significantly wider than he. ‘Wonder if he might have a thin rope I can use as a belt for a time?’

He paused to glance around. The still air smelled of shit. A glance to his right showed him a large building. ‘That’s probably the barn.’

Lowing of cattle told him why the air was so fragrant. A rhythmic pounding of metal on metal drew him around to the side of the house. The turquoise half-dragon worked at an anvil, his back to Carter. He stepped past a hen laying in the middle of the pathway. It opened an eye and watched him go by, but gave no sign of moving. He chuckled to himself. Three steps away from the chicken, he felt something sharp poke his shoulder.

In a blink, he threw himself forward in a twisting somersault that ended with him upright and a couple feet away from the attack, his hand grabbing for his missing sword.

He brought his head up, searching for an incoming attack, and flushed when he saw the female half-dragon staring at him, her hand still raised in the act of poking him for his attention.

His ears hot, Carter brought his hands together as if he were washing them and then quickly folded his arms.

“You’re a twitchy human, aren’t you?” She lowered her hand.

“Um.” He dropped his arms and then tucked his hands behind his butt, back of his left hand in the palm of his right.

“You startled me.”

“So I see.” She titled her head to the left. “I am sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. Anna, right?”

“Anna Jacoba.”

Carter raised a finger in the air. “Right. Presumptuous to assume I can use your first name.”

Again, her head went to the left. “What?”

“I should have said, ‘Miss Jacoba.’”

She shook her head. “You are odd, human. My name is Anna Jacoba.” She pointed at her brother. “And he is Jeroen.”

“Jeroen Jacoba, right?”

“No.” Her tone said he was stupid. “Jeroen. I am Anna Jacoba.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m used to people having a forename and surname.”

She tilted her head to the left. “What are those?”

He scratched his head. “Well, with me, my forename is Carter.”

“Your name is Carter Blake.”

“Well, yes. But that is my full name.”

“I do not understand.”

He took a deep breath. “Most humanoids have multiple parts to their name. A forename, which is given at birth, and a surname, which is inherited from the family.”

“Why?”

“To differentiate people with the same forename.”

“But your name belongs to you. How can anyone else have your name?”

“Some names are popular, and so many families might use it for their child.”

She shook her head. “That is insane.”

“Oh?” Carter folded his arms behind him. “Why is that?”

“Names have power.”

“Well, yes, but only Truenames.”

Anna Jacoba stepped closer to him. “You know Name Magic?”

“Yes and no.”

She shook her head. “You either have the knowledge, or you do not.”

He raised his right index finger. “Or you have some knowledge, but you have no ability.”

She tilted her head to the left. “I do not understand.”

“I have academic knowledge of Truename Magic. I can tell you about it all day long, but I can’t show you how it works.”

“Why would you seek only partial knowledge?”

“I didn’t seek any knowledge of it.”

She blinked. “Then how did you get it?”

“Truename Magic came up in a few conversations, and I’d ask what they were talking about. So, I know some of the basics. For examples, Truename Magic is purely oral. Writing a truename down doesn’t mean anything. You have to be able to pronounce it properly. Personal truenames are even more powerful. And, because they are, certain beings have Truename Wards, which can cause the magic to backfire.”

“Carter!”

He turned to Jeroen’s voice. The half-dragon beckoned him over.

“Excuse me. Your brother wants my attention.”

“Of course. May we speak more later?”

He nodded. “Certainly.”

Carter crossed the yard to Jeroen’s forge. The other man stepped away from the anvil and held up a gambeson to Carter’s chest.

“This should fit. Try it on.”

“Alright.” As he pulled it over his head, he said, “What for, though?”

“I’m making you some armor.”

“Thank you, Jeroen, but why?”

“I did not think you were going to want to stay here, and travelling these roads is dangerous.”

“Good point. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He tugged Carter over to a short wall. “Stand here while I measure you.”

***

Carter slowly lifted his right leg to take a step forward. The additional weight from the plate made it harder. “By all the hells. How do people move in this?”

Jeroen snickered. “The same as you do in your leather.”

Carter turned, and over balanced, hitting the ground with a cacophony of sound. “Ow. Fucking hell.”

Laughter sounded above him. He pushed the visor up. “Stop laughing.”

Jeroen reached down and lifted him back to his feet, still chortling. “How is it you don’t know how to wear plate mail?”

“I never needed to. My leather was just fine.”

“Plate is better protection.”

“Unless my enemy is using an axe or hammer.”

“Oh? What protection is leather to those weapons?”

Carter sighed. “Fair point.”

The half-dragon smirked. “Come with me.”

“Can I take this off, first?”

“No. You need to get used to it.”

“Why? I’m going to replace it as soon as I can.”

“Because until you do, this is the only armor you have available. Leather armor isn’t something I know how to make.”

“The gambeson is leather.”

“I bought it. From the leatherer.”

“Leather armor would have been better,” Carter mumbled.

“Armor has to be custom fit.” Jeroen put his hands on his hips. “You should know this.”

“I do, but I’m allowed to complain.”

The armorer shook his head. “Not when you are getting it free.” He waved his arm as he turned away. “Follow me.”

“Follow you where? We’re already outside.”

“Over to the corral.”

Carter scratched his head as he tromped behind his host. “What is it with everyone in this country fighting in horse corrals? Where are the horses?”

“We have to buy more. We finished the herd last week.”

He stopped. “You what, now?”

“We finished eating the last of the herd last week.”

“You ate your herd of horses?”

Jeroen stepped through the gate. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“We were hungry, of course.”

“Why not cows, deer, chicken, goats, rabbits, sheep, or pigs?”

“We eat them, too.” He leaned on the top rail of the corral, watching Carter struggle.

“Too?”

“Yes. We are dragons, after all.”

“Fair point.” Carter stepped a little faster, and fell. “Gods damn it.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

After helping Carter to his feet and into the coral, Jeroen picked up a wooden sword. He handed it to the other man and took up a second one.

Carter eyed the half-dragon. “Shouldn’t you be wearing armor?”

He smirked. “If you were accustomed to yours, I probably would. Since you are not, I do not have to worry.”

“I could get lucky.”

Jeroen lifted his sword in a high guard. “That is not likely.”

When Carter lunged, Jeroen pirouetted to his left and swatted him in the back as he stumbled and fell. He watched as Carter struggled to his feet.

“Not as easy as you thought, is it?”

“Alright, you proved your point.” He rested his hands on the pommel of the practice sword with the tip in the dirt. “What now?”

Jeroen tilted his head to the right. “Proved my point?” He gave a brief chuckle. “There was no point to be made. We must continue your training until you can move as easily in plate as leather.” He then pointed his weapon at Carter’s chest. “Training with swords also trains you in movement in the armor.”

“How much time do you think I have?”

A shrug. “As long as it takes. If you do not wish to die, that is.”

***

The bare-chested half-orc stumbled passed and hit the ground, sliding. The crowd went silent in shock. Their undefeated champion lay crumpled with mud surrounding his face.

Sera nudged him onto his side. She didn’t want him to suffocate. He’d been a good challenge. Walking over to the elf ring official, she held out her hand for her winnings. As the odds against her had been fifteen-to-one, she knew her purse would be hefty. A gentle breeze blew her light brown curls across her face.

When the ringleader placed thirty silvery white coins in her hand, she scowled. “What’s this?”

“Your winnings.” The tone of his voice indicated he thought she was an idiot for asking.

“I wagered two hundred gold on myself. At fifteen-to-one, that’s —”

“Three thousand, I know,” he said. “Thirty platinum coins is the equivalent of three thousand gold coins.”

“Oh.” Her face warmed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were trying to cheat me.”

The elf chuckled. “Do you think I’m Drago the Clanless?”

“Why? Is he a cheat?”

“Among other things.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She walked down the busy street, careful not to allow any to brush against her. One run in with a cutpurse was enough. She had ended up with a broken neck for her audacity, but that was beside the point. ‘When Drago wins, there won’t be any more thieves. He’ll make sure everyone has their fair share.’

Heading between two buildings, she found herself cut off by a man brandishing a short sword. She drew to a halt.

“I’ll be taking that platinum, girly.”

The darkening of the alley told her a much taller being had entered the alley behind her. A quick peek at a curtained window showed the distorted image of an ogre. ‘Oh, just what I need: One of those ugly fuckers.’

“No.” Sera shook her head. “You won’t.”

“I eat?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Him? Be my guest. Would save me the trouble of punching his teeth out.”

The ogre scratched his head. “Huh?”

“Crush her!”

Sera flattened herself against the wall to her right as the ogre’s large club slammed into the ground. A spray of fetid mud shot into the air and all over her.

“You fucker!” Her yell was a mix of anger and disgust.

She landed a sideways thrust kick at the ogre’s jaw and regained her balance as the huge creature fell against the opposite wall.

The man chopped at her with an overhand strike.

She pushed off the wall and spun to her right, ending with her back against his chest.

An elbow under the point of his chin caused him to stumble backwards.

The recovered ogre charged at her with a bellow.

Sera dropped to the ground with a roll, hitting his left leg just below the knee.

The ogre tripped over her and flew into his companion.

Both hit the ground and lay unmoving.

She warily rose to her feet, not taking her eyes off the two. Neither budged as she got closer.

When she stood over them, she saw why they hadn’t moved and relaxed. The ogre had the human’s sword buried in his throat and the human’s head had a puddle of blood and brain around it.

‘Looks like a broken cobblestone crushed his skull when the ogre landed on him.’ She shook her head. ‘Damn, that was lucky.’ She straightened and continued on her way. ‘I hope Drago is ready to march, soon. We need to stamp out the inequalities that make people have to steal.’

###

The golden skinned being flexed the two wings growing from his back as he watched the brown haired young woman walk off. A couple of moments later, a searing white light radiated from him and expanded outward. The light vanished in a blink. And the winged being was gone.

###

To Sera’s surprise, the gates of Mhor Cauldgh were thrown wide. Normally, they were shut as majority of travellers arrived by ship, or boat. Visitors by land were so rare, the city guard tended to forget the protocol for them. In six years, she’d witnessed three land-based arrivals.

She drew closer, and noticed a distant roaring, rising and falling like the waves at the piers of the city. A couple of guardsmen, in full silver plate mail saluted as she entered. One, whose plate was a brilliant blue, strode over to her.

He clapped his left hand to his chest, brought his heels together with a clang, and raised his visor, revealing a red haired human man with steel gray eyes. “Commander. Welcome back.”

“What’s going on, Griffon?”

“Lord Drago is giving a speech to his people. All came, from wheels around.”

She scratched her chin. “Interesting. Carry on.”

He saluted once more, lowered his visor, and returned to his post.

She passed through streets that were emptied of all but patrolling guards. ‘Gotta keep looters away.’ She sighed. Somehow, people still slipped through the cracks and ended up stealing. ‘It’s not their fault. The price gougers still manage to slip through also. I think at the end of the week, I’ll have to lead a few patrols through the shop quarter to ensure no one is charging more than their fair share. Price gougers were horrific exploiters and they’d need either reeducation, or to be made an example of.’

The roars grew clearer, letting her know she drew closer to their gathering place. Drago’s volume must have been immense for her to hear it from this range.

“What more could they possibly have destroyed? The worst thing, though, is the destruction of the faith in our People, the elimination of all hopes and all confidence. In six years they have not succeeded in mobilizing in any way the powers slumbering in our People; on the contrary!

“Out of their fear of the awakening of the nation, they have played people off against one another: the city against the country, the salaried workers against the civil servants, those who work with their hands against those who work with their brains, and so forth, and vice versa.

“The activism of our races was entirely consumed at home; outwardly, only fantasies remained: fantastic hopes of a cultural conscience, a law of nations, a world conscience, ambassador conferences — and the world treated us accordingly.

“Thus Mhor Cauldgh has slowly disintegrated, and only a madman can still hope that those forces which first caused this disintegration might now bring about the resurrection. If the present parties seriously want to save Mhor Cauldgh , why have they not done so already? Had they wanted to save Mhor Cauldgh , why has it not happened? Had the men of these parties honestly intended to do so, then their programs must have been bad. If, however, their programs were right, then either their desire cannot have been sincere, or they must have been too ignorant or too weak.”

Sera stopped. ‘I can hear him perfectly from right here.’ She glanced up at the mid-afternoon sky. ‘I should use this time free of crowds of people to visit Iormungand’s new shop. I’ve had reports he’s been spreading dangerous and harmful ideas.’

After nodding to herself, she headed down the street to the merchants quarter.

###

The Gorauch carefully closed the drawer to its original half-open position. He crossed the floor as silently as the shadows from the sunlight and carefully searched the bookcase. He ran his fingers over the edges of the shelves, taking care not to trigger any hidden traps. Discovering none, he tilted the books one by one, hoping to open a secret door. As he reached the third shelf, a noise from downstairs told him he was no longer alone. He slipped over to the door and listened. The steady, heavy tread on the steps came from someone who was sure of themselves, and wasn’t trespassing.

A quick stride to the window, and distant roar of the crowd, said Drago continued with his speech. Two strides later, he stood behind the door, waiting for the newcomer to enter the den. He caught the scent of vanilla buried under sweat as she entered. The curly brown hair and hide clothes revealed her to be Drago’s enforcer.

“Lady Sera. What brings you here?”

She turned her head and regarded him over her shoulder. “My job, Corath. Why are you here?”

“My job. I suspect Iormungand is allied with the Walker, and I’m looking for evidence.”

“Why not simply bring him in and question him?”

“I don’t want his lies. I want to know where the Walker is.”

“Last I heard, he was near Dunskillen and had wiped out a local gang of slavers.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Four days.”

“Four?” He growled under his breath. “If I leave now, it’ll take me another two to get there.” He shook his head. “I’m behind by six days, but it can’t be helped.” He refocused on Sera. “Thank you. I’m now closer than I have been in six years.”

“You still haven’t forgiven him for killing your brother, have you?”

“I told him Wen was possessed and he killed him regardless. No. I have not forgiven Carter Blake for murdering my brother.”

She nodded. “I understand completely.”

“What, no speech about how revenge is bad?”

“What are you talking about?” She titled her head. “You’re getting justice for you brother. This is a good thing.”

“I wish Elder Glurath understood that. She’s constantly telling me revenge is empty.”

“Well, it is. However, you’re not going after revenge. You’re going after justice. There’s a big difference between the two.”

“Really? They seem to be the same to me.”

“Possibly because Common isn’t your first language. Revenge is mere retaliation. Justice is impartial and morally right.” She folded her arms over her breasts. “You would have gone after Carter even if his victim wasn’t your brother.”

Without answering her, he went to the window. The cobbled streets below were still empty with the exception of a couple guards.

“Did you find anything during your search, Corath?”

“No.” He turned back. “But, all I searched was the desk and the top three bookshelves. Iormungand could still have something hidden in here.”

“We should finish our search, and then you can go after the Walker.”

The elf nodded. “The two of us together will both be more thorough and faster than either of us alone.”

###

Thirty minutes later, the two stood outside the shop keep’s house.

“We didn’t find anything. Does that allay your suspicions, Commander?”

Sera shook her head. “No. It’s entirely possible that it was hidden better than we anticipated or disguised with magic.”

“That is true.” Corath scratched his head. “What is next?”

“For me? I’ll meet up with Lord Drago and get an Inquisitor to aid my search. As for you,” she paused and glanced to the sky. “It’s after midday, so you should get a horse and head to Draith’s temple.”

He sighed. “As you command. What will I be doing there?”

She tossed him her pouch of platinum coins from her fight. “Paying them to transport you to Dunskillen. It’ll cut down on your travel time.”

“A teleportation spell is two thousand gold. I’ve never seen that much at once and I’m six hundred years old.”

“You should get out more often. That purse contains thirty platinum coins.”

“This is platinum?” He bounced the pouch. “This feels like two pounds. Where did you get so much money?”

“That’s not important.” She waved her hand. “What is important is finding and killing Carter Blake.”

“Thy will be done.”

“Why are you talking like that Corath?”

“I am formally accepting your order to kill Carter.” He turned to stare down the street at the city walls. “If my Elder asks, I can tell her to use tulak-nor, the truth spell, to read my words.”

“Has she forbidden you to hunt him?”

“No.” He glanced back to Sera. “She lives.”

He strode down the street and merged with the crowd of people returning from the speech.

She nodded and headed in the opposite direction.

###

The young girl raced through the fog, tears running unheeded down her cheeks. The skitter of feet behind her told her the monster was close. She risked a glance behind her.

Her look caused her to miss the stone in her path.

Her bare foot smashed into it and she tumbled to the ground, scraping her hands and knees on the scree.

With a cry, she rolled across the ground.

Her pursuer came to a slow stop.

The fog swirled away, giving her another look at the horror which killed her big brother. The creature’s corpse-white flesh was revealed for a few moments. Its eyes glowed a nauseating shade of acid green and its smile revealed fangs like the teeth of a steel trap. A faint pinkish foam coated them. When it raised its thin, boney arms, the skin on its forearms began to ripple and tear. Boney protrusions slowly grew from them, sending a spray of a greyish liquid hissing to the ground. The projections lengthened until they extended four feet from its wrists. It ran a pale green tongue along each sword-like protuberance.

The girl screamed.

“Precious, tasty precious.” The words were almost hummed. “The animus calls to us.” The creature nearly sang the words this time.

A large fist shot out of the mist and smashed into the side of the monster’s face, sending it flying into the dark.

“Everything is alright now, little girl.” The voice was deep and boisterous. “Why? Because I am here.”

A huge, towering knight stepped into her line of sight. Torch light danced over heavy plate mail, revealing a bearded face with a wide smile looking down at her. His facial hair was split by a jagged scar which ran across his cheek and up to just beneath his right eye.

She gaped up at the knight. He’d punched the monster away! Even her friend, Knight Captain Wethers hadn’t been able to do that and he was the strongest man she knew.

The monster leaped from a tree at the knight’s back.

“Look out!”

As her warning had left her throat, the knight had spun around, caught the monster by the throat and slammed it to the ground. He then smashed his fist into its face, making it cry out in pain. A few more heavy punches and the monster stopped moving.

The knight stood up straight, pulled his glove off and wiped it clean. He put it back on and turned to her with a wide and cheerful smile.

“I’m sorry about that, little girl. I, Sir Lavitz, have vanquished the demon.”

And then he have a mighty laugh. He walked over as his laughter faded away, and leaned down, offering her his other hand. She took it and gasped as he lifted her from the ground and to her feet as easily as he blinked. His laughter boomed out once more.

“Why do you laugh so much, Sir Lavitz?”

“Are you afraid anymore?”

She shook her head. “No, Sir.”

“That is why, little girl.” He smiled his wide smile. “If I am laughing, everyone will know everything will be alright.”

“Thank you, Sir Lavitz.” She gave him a smile.

“You’re welcome.” He placed his large hand on her head. “What is your name?”

“Madikate Gwint.”

“How far are we from your home?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was running too fast.”

“Do you know how long you were running?”

She shook her head.

He snorted as he shook his head. A glance up to the sky showed him the sun were near its zenith. “Alright, Madikate. Looks like we get to backtrack you.”

A tilt of her head to the right. “What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re going to be looking for broken branches in bushes, your footprints in the dirt, your hairs in low hanging tree limbs. All those signs will show us where you’ve been.”

“Okay.”

He swung the girl onto his shoulders. “Hold tight. I walk fast.”

She grabbed his chin in both hands. “Okay.”

“What does your hometown look like?”

“It has a mill on the river. And a lot of people.”

“Does the river sit on the north of the town?”

“No. It goes in the middle of town.”

“That sounds a little familiar to me.” He stepped over a creek and paused y a bush. A section of it was smashed to the side. “Here’s one place you came past.”

“How do you know?”

“See how the side is broken to the side and pointed towards us?”

“Yes.”

“That means someone ran through it. I’m guessing that someone was you.”

“Oh.”

“Back to the town: Does the mill have a large green stone?”

She bounced on his shoulders. “You do know it! You might even know my parents.” Her voice’s volume went up in her excitement.”

“It is possible.”

He noted a torn piece of cloth and followed the small trail beneath it. A breath of wind brought the scent of pine to them along with an undercurrent of petrichor. As he strode along, the animals resumed making their familiar noises.

###

Water dripped from the stone ceiling and puddled on the edge of the altar before spilling over the side of the stone. Greasy black smoke danced above the merrily jumping flames of oak torches in rusty brackets. Screams rent the air, and something that sounded like a pillow smacking the floor came to the ears of the Dwarf.

Drago the Clanless knelt before a blood soaked altar. He wore a loincloth and the arcane sigils which called to his god. The symbols were only enough to arouse Karesh’s attention. The offering on the altar would hopefully be enough to appease the capricious deity. The Dark Dwarf shivered recollecting what happened the last time he’d sought to commune with the god. Then, the adolescent half-elf wasn’t enough, and Drago had to immediately offer the lives of his royal guard. That had been a gory affair.

The twin scents of sulfur and attar filled his nose as an ebony smoke seemed to dip from the ceiling and coalesced into a roiling cloud. Drago switched to breathing through his nose to avoid losing his dinner.

A hollow, sepulchral voice sounded from within.

“What do you want, Drago?”

In response, the Dark Dwarf owed forward until his forehead rested against the cold stone floor. “Lord Karesh, I beg a boon of you.”

“Get to it.”

“How does one bend a god, my lord?”

The inky cloud swirled and tumbled for a moment. “It is simultaneously easy and difficult to warp a deity, Drago. It takes days of pointless torture, and special husks filled with their divine essence. In order to harm a deity, much less torture one, you need a specific kind of alloy. But first, you need to capture one. Each of these tasks is infinitely more dangerous and onerous than the one that came before.”

“Then warping Kellün will be simplicity in itself, Lord Karesh.”

The ebony smoke whirled and twisted for several second before coalescing in the bulging-eyed spider-faced form of the Bane of Life. “Explain.” The clack of its mandibles almost made it hard to understand, but long communication with his god allowed Drago to decipher the words with ease.

To answer the Death God’s demand, he strolled over to a table and rotated it, revealing the bound form of the God of Elves and the Woodlands.

Karesh laughed. “Excellent, Drago. You once again exceed my expectations.”

“What do I need to get next, my lord?”

“You need Imperium Alloy. To manufacture this rare substance requires Celestial iron and Abyssal silver. While you collect those metals, you’ll also need creatures sacred to him. Retrieve these, and I shall reveal the next step.”

Drago rubbed his hands together. “Soon, master. Soon you will be manifest on this world. Soon you shall wreak havoc on all life, as you wont.”

The smoke burst apart, startling the Dark Dwarf as the lights extinguished. Brow wrinkled, Drago turned and lit a brazier. He turned to where the effigy of his god had swirled and a big human, as wide as he was tall, stepped into the light. Long, thick brown hair flowed down to his shoulders. Dressed in blue pants and a white shirt, he cut an impressive figure. His way of moving was fluid, graceful like a cat.

“Hello again, Drago.” His voice was silken, yet deep. It made for an interesting contrast.

Drago retreated. “Master Lucas.”