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

“You’re awfully pale, Drago.” Lucas grinned at him. “Were you not expecting me? Or, were you hoping I wouldn’t find out you’re conspiring behind my back?”

“N-no.”

“Which are you saying no to?” Lucas stalked forward, enjoying the way the Dark Dwarf scrambled backward, trying to stay out of reach. “The surprise of my visit? Or are you attempting to lie about betraying me?”

“Y-your visit is a surprise —”

“No shit.”

“Buh-but, I’m trying to learn how to break Kellün for you, Lucas.”

In a blink, the large man rolled over the table and lifted the Dwarf by his jerkin. “Do. Not. Fucking,” he threw Drago across the room where he crashed through a wooden table. “Lie to me.”

The door burst open and six orcs swarmed in. Seeing their master in a pile of splinters and shattered wood, they raced to the attack.

Lucas glared at them, his eyes turning a bright yellow.

All six burst apart like soap bubbles, their blood splashed against the walls and ran down them.

Lucas returned his attention to the Dark Dwarf, his eyes back to their normal blue. He crossed the room and lifted Drago to his feet, brushed the debris from the Dark Dwarf’s clothing, and helped steady him on his feet.

“Now.” He smoothed down Drago’s jerkin. “Where were we?” He smiled. “Oh, yes. You were trying to tell me you sought information from your god for me.” His smile flashed into a scowl. “Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”

Drago looked down at the orc blood and then back up at the fat human. “You need me to be your front man to Carter Blake. To keep him distracted while you retrieve the artifacts you need.”

Lucas squatted down, bringing his eyes level with the Dwarf’s. “Do you really think I need you to do that?” He winked. “Or do I want you to?”

“It’s a need.” Drago nodded. “Because while the Walker of Worlds might not hunt you down, Hevelca certainly would.”

“Heh.” Lucas rose to his full height and reached behind him. Bringing his hand out, he revealed a long object covered by a cloth. “Look.” He unwrapped the material, revealing a dagger of a silvery black metal. “Imperium Alloy. With this dagger, I could peel the flesh directly from the skull of Hevelca, or any of her friends.” He flipped the weapon around and held it by the blade, presenting the hilt to Drago. “Use this to extract the information from Kellün here. Oh, and tell dear Sera, when she returns, to find you a unicorn colt. It’s one of the creatures sacred to the Woodlands God.”

Without waiting for a response, he raised his hand. A door appeared, and opened. A bright light shone from within, blinding Drago. As his vision cleared, he saw to his great relief, Lucas had gone.

“That human is mad.”

***

Carter stepped out of the forest and stared over a small wooden bridge at the smoky remnants of a town. The light was fading as grey clouds rolled in, creating new shadows and dark patches around them. The wind wailed between distorted trunks, carrying the sickly stink of burned wood. A plonking sound came as a light rain started.

“Sir Lavitz, we should hurry so we can get out of the rain.”

“Getting out of the rain would be nice, but we should be careful as well.” He swung Madikat down off his shoulders and passed her a knife, hilt first. “If anything, or anyone tries to grab you, jab them with this.”

“A-are you sure?”

He glanced down at her and gave a wide smile. “I am. It might buy you enough time to escape.” He rested his hand on top of her head. “I’ll be next to you as much as possible, but if I tell you to run, you obey, okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Remember, everything is fine.”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are here.”

“Indeed.”

He then crossed the bridge while holding her hand. Despite the town’s destruction, the arch was a solid under his feet as if it were recently built. The area was thick with the acrid odor of smoke and the sick, sweet scent of rotten meat. Rain continued to come down, but fortunately no harder than before. As the pair walked into the midst of small homes, Carter detected the scent of decayed vanilla. ‘L’Arc demons were here. Which means we’re probably not going to find anyone alive. That Soul Eater must have been sent to kill any survivors that ran. What were they after? Casual destruction, or something more sinister?’

They came to the center of the town and spotted a person in a brown robe kneeling beside a body. He tapped Madikate on her head and when she looked up at him, gestured for her to stay put. Drawing his borrowed sword, he moved closer.

They rose and turned, pulling a hood up over their head. When they caught sight of him, they paused and let the hood fall back to their shoulders. Her soft emerald scales gleamed in the dim light.

“Carter?”

He hadn’t heard that soft and feminine voice in about five years.

“Weijia Fujii.” He sheathed the sword once more. “It’s been a long time.”

She nodded. “Yes, it has.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m on the trail of a Soul Eater.”

“I killed one not too far back.”

She straightened. “How?”

“Pulverized its skull.”

She looked him over. “With the cross guard of your sword?”

He sheathed his blade and raised his fist before waggling his fingers. “With this.”

“What?”

***

Sera waited for the orc guard to unlock the wooden door. Were the prison above ground, it would have made an impressive tower. As it was, they were almost a half mile under the mountain, leaving the air cool and damp.

Her hands were filled with a tray of food for their prisoner. ‘What does Drago want with her, anyway?’ She straightened and entered the cell after the sentry stood back. Setting the tray on the lone wooden table, she turned back to accept a torch from the orc. The door shut and the lock clicked.

As Sera held the flickering light aloft, it revealed a disheveled Elf dangling from cuffs bolted to the stone wall behind her. Her electric blue robe was grimy and tattered in places. The once white trim was now a dingy grey. Though her face was bruised and bloody with a rag tied around her mouth, she was still beautiful. Her emerald eyes watched Sera’s movements without fear.

The marks on her face were from the orcs ungentle way of questioning her. After six years, they knew no more than they had before starting. ‘She’s a tough one. Long years of intermittent torture, but she remains unbroken. And now Drago wants to try a new approach.’

“I’m going to uncuff you so that you may eat. Don’t bother trying to cast any magic.” Sera tapped the amber gem at the Elf woman’s throat. “This new necklace of yours negates it.” She produced a key from her belt and inserted into the lock. The damp air had caused a bit of rusting of the mechanism, so she had to jiggle the key a bit before the cuffs popped open.

The Elf spat the rag out and to the ground. “I see ye dinae have a weapon. Does Drago think I need one tae take ye hostage?”

Sera laughed. “I don’t carry weapons because I am the weapon. On my world, I am a master of unarmed combat.”

The other woman smiled and tapped the silver collar around her neck. “And yet, I have this.”

“I may be a combat master, but I’m not stupid. I don’t have any real defense against your magic except that negation stone.” She waved her hand at the tray of food. “Hungry?”

The Elf woman sat. The repast set out on the table was simple. And vegetarian. “Nae meat, lass?”

“I thought you Elves were vegetarians.”

“Would it nae have been wiser tae ask me?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry for assuming. Future meals will have meat.”

“Thank ye, and yer forgiven.”

“What were the orcs feeding you before?”

“Veegah. It be considered a delicacy tae them. Tae regular folken, it be squirrel-flavored gruel.”

“Yuck.” Sera turned her head away, disgust all over her face, and shuddered.

She kept watch on the Keeper from the corner of her eye and noted her slipping the knife up her sleeve. She turned back, marveling at Dearbhaile’s composure. ‘I’ll allow her to keep it until I’m ready to leave, but in case she tries to attack me with it, I’ll be ready to put her down hard. I wish I knew why Lord Drago wants her alive, though. It would be simpler to kill her.’

“So yer masters have decided tae change tactics, eh?”

Sera dunked a biscuit into her soup. “What do you mean?”

“Typically, this be around the time when the orcs would haul me off tae be tortured.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry about that. These archaic assholes think that it works.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Torture only works if it’s arousing for the torturer. Getting information?” She shook her head. “Not even close. The tortured will say anything to get the pain to stop.”

“If ye can get them tae say anything in the first place.”

“That is true.” Sera leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. “And to answer your question, yes. I will be asking you the questions from here on out.”

The Elf woman lifted her bowl and took a drink of her soup. She set it down and pressed a napkin to her lips. “What makes ye think ye’ll be any more successful than tha orcs?”

“Well, for one, I could have spiked your soup with a truth potion.”

Eyes wide, the Elf pushed her bowl away.

“I said I could, not that I did.”

“And ye could also be lyin’.”

“You are correct. However, I hate lies. The truth is so much better.”

“How so?”

“When you lie, you have to keep track of what’s been said. There’s no need for that when you speak the truth.”

“Aye, but what kind of truth?”

Sera titled her head. “What do you mean?”

“There be all kinds of truth: Metaphorical truth, empirical truth, perspective truth, philosophical truth.”

Sera blinked. “I don’t know anything about those.” She then shrugged. “The only type of truth I deal with is whether two plus two equals four.”

“That would be an empirical truth. Empirical truth deals in evidence. Perspective truth deals in how ye see things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is Lord Drago good, or evil?”

“He’s good, of course.”

“Aye, from yer perspective, he be. From mine, he be evil.”

“How can you say that, though? He’s fighting to end inequalities, oppression and injustice.”

“And how does tha torture fit in?”

“I – uh – hmm.”

“I take yer stamerin’ tae mean ye cannae quite fit that tae tha idea he be good, eh?”

Sear rose from her seat. “I’ll be taking the knife back with me with the rest.”

The Elf tilted her head. “What knife?”

“The one you slid up your sleeve.”

The Elf woman stood as well. “I dinae know where yer talkin’ about.”

Sera tossed the table against the wall. “Now.”

“Take it.” Dearbhaile released her grip on the blade so it slipped into her hand. “If you can.”

A quick spin of the blade, and she held it by the handle in a reverse grip. She slashed at Sera who blocked it by hitting the inside of her forearm with both hands. The Elf struck at her with her other hand, but again, Sera blocked it the same way.

The Keeper jabbed the knife at Sera’s face. She intercepted that attack with a redirected forearm to forearm shot.

The knife point shot to her hip, but she knocked it away with her right hand.

The Elf jabbed at her stomach but she leaped back out of reach and then punched her in the face.

Recovering faster than she thought she would, the other woman feinted at her shoulder. When her arm came up to deflect, the Elf woman flicked the knife around, went with the deflection, caught the flipping blade with her other hand, and sliced up at Sera’s chest.

She brought her wrists together and slammed them down on the Elf’s, knocking the attack away.

The Keeper circled her arm, again flipping the blade to hold it by the handle, and stabbed at her neck.

Sera brought her hands up, left hand at the Elf’s wrist, and her right at her elbow. She attempted to disarm the other woman, but a stiff palm strike to her sternum sent her stumbling back.

The Elf swung the blade, trying to slice her opponent’s throat, but she ducked, a return slash was also ducked, and this time, Sera leaped up and slammed her fist in the side of her opponent’s face.

The Keeper staggered back, but managed to stay upright. As she came around to face her again, Sera leapt in the air and reverse spin kicked the Elf’s chest, sending her tumbling back over the upended table’s legs.

While she rolled to her feet, Sera took three running steps and launched herself at the other woman, sending her knee crashing into the Elf’s chest.

She flew back and slammed into the wall, losing the knife. Refusing to go down, she caught Sera’s right hand as she punched and countered with a stiff shot of her own. Sera stumbled back, a red mark on her cheek.

She threw another punch, and the Elf ducked it, sending a fist into her abdomen. Her body went to the left against her will, but she managed to drive her elbow into the Elf’s forearm, deflecting her follow up strike.

The prisoner launched an overhand right. Sera leaned back, brought her hands in and judo threw the Elf woman to the floor while holding on to her right arm. Just as she brought her head up, Sera drover her knee into the Elf’s face, breaking her nose, and sending her back to the floor.

Six orc guards swarmed into the cell, all pointing their weapons at the fallen Elf. A that point, she sank back, knowing she was defeated.

In short order, she was once again chained to the wall. Sera walked up to her, rubbing her sore cheek with her right hand, and holding her sore side with her other hand. “Congratulations, Keeper Dearbhaile. You gave me a tougher fight than anyone else ever has.”

“Were it nae for tha guards, tha outcome would have been much different.”

“You’re probably right. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I be apprenticed tae a Vaush-Tauric.”

“I hope to meet him some day. It would be fun to fight him.”

“She would eat ye, lassie.”

“Good to know.” With gesture to the guards, the seven left.