Bladvaneer

  Bladvaneer

  Bladvaneer

  Dennis Purves

  CreateSpace

  Copyright © 2012 by Dennis Purves

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2012

  ISBN-13: 978-1477559093

  ISBN-10: 1477559094

  Dennis Purves

  31 E. Henry Street

  Linden, NJ 07036

  dpurves@lindenpl.org

  For Erika, who helped to make the impossible possible, and isn’t even asking for royalties.

  Prologue

  A man walked through a forest. He felt as though a hundred pairs of eyes were upon him, but when he looked around it seemed obvious that he was alone. The dense woods suddenly opened into a clearing. Instead of feeling relieved, an overwhelming sense of dread overcame him. A great stone temple stood before him. It was guarded by mighty beasts, yet they let him pass without a second look. He entered a room and immediately felt a chill. In each corner stood a candle, each unlit. Someone was standing in the middle of the room, his or her back to him, face down as though crying or in deep thought. He desperately wanted to stay away from this person, but despite himself found that he couldn’t. He approached quietly, spying a dagger on his belt and wanting to use it, but couldn’t get his hands to obey those wishes. As he got within a few feet of this person he accidentally kicked a pebble. The person before him suddenly became alert, but still didn’t turn. The man placed his hand on this person’s shoulder, and the figure quickly turned. The man’s vision was filled with a bright light. It should have felt warm, but instead was cold. His body felt like it was being turned to ice. He wanted to look away, to scream, but couldn’t. The light began to fade, and he could just make out the person’s features ….

  The same man suddenly sat up in bed. Disoriented, he quickly scanned his room. After a moment, he grasped the covers around him. Despite the room’s warmth, he felt chilled to the bone. He looked at his hands. The one which touched the being in the dream was almost blue from cold.

  “Damn,” he said. “Not again ...”

  1

  A man in full plate mail armor sat in the busy tavern, a beautiful woman on each side, and a half-empty pitcher of ale on the table. The women were hanging on his every word.

  “So what happened next?” one of them asked.

  The hero laughed. “Impatient, aren’t we? Should I just jump right to the end?”

  The two ladies laughed.

  “I really do love telling these stories, and I love the company even more. So, where was I?”

  “You had just run out of the dragon’s cave, after nearly getting yourself barbecued.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, I don’t actually love that part of the story. Anyway, I was just checking to see if you were paying attention.”

  They all laughed. The hero poured himself the rest of the ale and held up the pitcher.

  “Barkeep, another round for our table. In fact, another round for everybody!”

  Everyone in the tavern cheered. Several raised their glasses to him. He raised his in return.

  “Well, there’s absolutely no shame in running from a dragon. Besides, at that point there was no sense in facing him, as I had already taken what I needed from his pile of treasure. Fortunately, he didn’t realize that yet, or he never would have let me go. So I—“

  A young man ran into the tavern, red in the face and nearly out of breath. He quickly scanned the room, saw the hero, and rushed over.

  “Sir! Sir!” he shouted.

  “Relax, my friend. Have a seat. I’m getting another pitcher, and it looks like you could use a drink.”

  “Yes, thank you, but … there’s no time!”

  The hero laughed. “There’s always time for a drink. I’m sure after you’ve relaxed for a bit, whatever has you so upset won’t seem quite as bad.”

  “Vosko’s men have arrived in Farbo Town! They’ve taken over everything!”

  The mug stopped halfway to the hero’s mouth.

  “Vosko? That’s impossible. We put him down ages ago.”

  “That’s what everyone thought, but it seems we were all wrong.”

  The barkeep came to the table, carrying a pitcher of ale. The hero removed a bag from his belt and threw it on the table. Several gold coins spilled out. The barkeep stared at them.

  “That’s too much, sir,” he said, his honesty winning out over his greed.

  “Keep these people in ale, and whatever else they want, until I return. After I take care of Vosko once and for all, I’ll use the spoils to really throw a party in here.”

  “Yes, sir!” the barkeep said, smiling broadly.

  “Ladies, keep my seat warm. I’ll be back soon, and I’ll have a brand new story to tell you.”

  He pushed himself away from the table, and headed to the door.

  “Boy, come with me and tell me everything.”

  The squire followed him out.

  “He’s got about a dozen men. All well-armed.”

  “Does he have any wizards with him?”

  “If he does, they’re disguised very well as warriors.”

  The hero reached his horse, and pulled a shiny sword from the pack. The boy looked at it, wonder in his eyes.

  “Is that …?”

  The hero looked at the boy and smiled. “Yes, it is. Would you like to hold it?”

  The boy couldn’t even answer. The hero held open the boy’s hand and placed the hilt in it. He examined the weapon from top to bottom.

  “It …” and the boy hesitated. “Well, it, well …”

  The hero smiled. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “Well, it looks just like a regular sword.”

  “Of course it does. That’s the magic of it. People expect thunder and lightning when I draw that weapon, and when it doesn’t come, that moment of confusion often gives me the edge I need.”

  The boy stared at the hero. “I don’t understand. You mean … you trick them?”

  “I know people always want to believe that a hero can jump on his horse and ride in alone against an army of a thousand, draw his sword and be home in time for dinner. But sometimes what’s in here,” he said as he tapped the side of his forehead, “is what really makes the difference. If I’ve disappointed you, I apologize. I really do.”

  The boy brightened up. “No, you didn’t. I think I might have learned a lot by talking to you.”

  “Good to hear,” the hero said, smiling as he mounted his horse. “Now wish me luck.”

  “Luck?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Heroes aren’t supposed to need luck. Well, trust me, sometimes we do.”

  “Good luck then. But …”

  The hero was starting to move away, but stopped the horse and looked back.

  “But what?”

  “Aren’t you afraid that it’s a trap?”

  The hero laughed. “I’d be shocked if it weren’t!”

  The boy watched as the horse galloped toward Farbo Town.

  2

  Two heavily armed men wearing chainmail stood lazily against one of the houses in Farbo Town. The hero watched them from a distance, and realized that he could probably sneak in right behind them. So that’s exactly what he did.

  He looked around the town. It was like most other towns he had visited. A lot of small houses, with stores and taverns strategically placed around the area. There were no people, though. At this time of day the streets should have been very busy, so he wondered where everyo
ne was, and even worse, how much trouble they were in.

  He’d had run-ins with Vosko before. He and his pack would show up in a town, overwhelm any guards that might be around, and basically drain the place dry before leaving. In the meantime they would amuse themselves by torturing, raping, and killing the locals.

  Vosko’s weakness was that he was essentially a coward. He liked having a numbers advantage, but would quickly back down when directly challenged. He didn’t care a bit for the people who followed him, so he wouldn’t think twice about selling them out if it helped him get out of a tight spot.

  “And may we ask what you think you’re doing here?” asked a voice behind him.

  The hero turned and saw that the two men he thought he had sneaked past were now standing behind him, weapons not drawn but clearly at the ready. Apparently they were paying more attention than it had seemed. He wondered how they were able to surprise him like that. He made a mental note to not let himself get lost in his thoughts again until after any danger had passed.

  “Well,” he answered, “I think I’m going to find your master, Vosko. And then I think I’m going to run him out of town. Again. And I think I’m going to take out as many of you in the process as I can.”

  One of the men turned to the other and shook his head.

  “No, I don’t think you’re going to do that at all.”

  The other man laughed. Then they both drew their swords. In the blink of an eye the hero had also drawn his weapon, and disarmed both his foes. They stared at their empty hands in disbelief.

  “How—” one of them began.

  “Never mind how. Just don’t make me feel the need to swing this sword again.”

  The two men looked at each other and, without verbally communicating, seemed to mutually come to a decision. They turned and ran.

  “Smart choice,” the hero called after them.

  Afterward, he realized that he probably shouldn’t have let them run away. It was easy for him to take the attitude that all small towns are pretty much the same. The same houses, the same temples, the same taverns. But a little inside knowledge would have definitely come in handy now. He really had no idea where everyone was, and the longer he spent searching, the more likely he was going to be discovered.

  With no other options, he began searching the town, door-to-door. Eventually he came to The Straight Arrow Tavern. He peeked in one of the dirty windows and saw Vosko sitting with several of his men. Surprisingly, the rest of the dimly lit place looked empty. That meant he’d still have to search for the town’s residents, but at least he could settle things with Vosko now. He drew his sword and swung open the tavern door. Vosko, who had been drinking and laughing with his men, looked up, smiling.

  “Ah, Gareth Helt. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

  Gareth pointed his weapon in Vosko’s direction. “Then why do you do it? You know whenever you invade a town that I’m just going to show up and drive you out.”

  Vosko chuckled. “Maybe that’s why I do it. Call it a hobby. Some people collect coins. I take over towns and wait for you to fight me.”

  All of his men laughed at this. Gareth got even sterner.

  “You can’t be serious.” He hesitated. “Can you?”

  Vosko pushed himself away from the table and stood. His men moved to stand with him, but he motioned them back down. He suddenly looked more serious as well.

  “No, I’m not serious. Just once it would be nice for my men and I to be able to have a little fun without you feeling the need to step in and stop us. Just once.”

  Gareth laughed. “Fun? I don’t understand you, and I’m not going to waste time trying. I think you all know the drill. You can either make the smart decision and just leave, or we can fight, I can beat you, and then you can leave.”

  “Why don’t you just kill us?” asked Vosko. “Honestly, it seems like the only way we’re ever going to end this endless cycle is for one of us to kill the other.”

  “I … I’d rather not kill unless I’m really forced to.”

  Vosko smiled. “Ah, that hero thing. Beautiful. See, here’s the thing. Even if you don’t mind history repeating itself over and over, I do. And I’m not a hero, so killing you really isn’t much of an issue for me.”

  “You can certainly try, although I don’t see why you’d expect the result to be any different than it’s been in the past. Now, tell me where all of the townspeople are, and leave.”

  “The townspeople are safe, for now. Much safer than you, unfortunately,” said a voice coming from the shadows.

  Gareth spun to witness a bearded man with flowing black robes step forward.

  “You’re the only one who thought you’d be fighting the same fight you’ve fought with Vosko numerous times. Rather arrogant of you, I think you must admit. Foolish, as well. Your overconfidence has cost you this time, I’m afraid,” the bearded man said.

  “Who are you?” Gareth asked.

  “Someone who needs for you to go away, once and for all.”

  “It won’t be that easy,” Gareth said, stepping forward.

  A pulsing red beam fired from the bearded man’s finger and knocked the sword from Gareth’s hands. He watched it land in the corner, well out of reach. He also heard Vosko chuckling. He had other weapons, but wasn’t sure what good they would do him. It would seem he was facing a wizard, possibly a priest, and he wasn’t prepared. The powerful man had been right. He’d been overconfident walking into this battle, and now found himself in a lot of trouble. He needed to stall for time.

  “Why won’t you at least tell me who you are, and what you want with me? And why you’re with Vosko.”

  The bearded man smiled. Gareth felt a chill as he saw it.

  “Ah, stalling for time? Perfectly understandable. I would do the same thing in your position. Not that I ever have been. I’ve already told you what I want with you. I have plans, and in order for them to succeed, I need you gone. Simple enough, isn’t it?”

  “But—“

  The bearded man held up a finger. “As for who I am, it’s irrelevant. I see no reason to exchange pleasantries with a man who will no longer exist in a few moments. As for Vosko, I’m using him.”

  Gareth quickly looked at Vosko, who was grinning.

  “Oh, don’t get your hopes up about driving some type of wedge between us,” the bearded man said. “I’m using him, and he’s using me. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. With you gone, there will be no one to interfere in either of our plans. Although I have to admit I’m surprised that you’ve been so much trouble to him. Considering how easily I defeated you, I guess that speaks volumes for Vosko’s prowess.”

  Vosko’s grin disappeared.

  “So what happens now?” Gareth asked.

  “You die, slowly and painfully. And I get to enjoy every minute of it,” the bearded man responded.

  “But why? Kill me if you’re going to, but I’ve done nothing to you to deserve torture.”

  Now it was the bearded man’s turn to grin. “Call it a hobby. Some people collect coins. I enjoy watching people suffer.”

  “Are you two going to talk all day? There are things I’d really rather be doing,” Vosko interrupted.

  The bearded man stared at him. His look said that he would be happy to add Vosko’s name to the list of people he was going to torture to death today, but his words said otherwise.

  “You’re right, of course. I think we’ve wasted enough time.”

  Gareth, who wasn’t ashamed of an occasional strategic withdrawal, turned and ran for the door.

  “Stop him!” Vosko shouted, but the bearded man held up a hand.

  Gareth got to the exit and bounced off, as though he had hit a brick wall. Dazed, he got to his feet and touched the air in front of him. It shimmered slightly, as though he was skimming his fingers over a pool. He suddenly found himself pulled backwards to where he first started. The bearded man laughed.

  “Please, give me some credit. Bring me
his sword.”

  One of Vosko’s men retrieved the weapon from where it lay, and handed it to the bearded man.

  “Hmmm,” he said, examining it. “Interesting.”

  “What’s wrong?” Vosko asked.

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

  “So what now?” Vosko asked.

  “The town is yours. Do with it, and its people, as you please. I really couldn’t care less.”

  Vosko nodded to his men, and they headed to the door. He hesitated before it, and looked back. The bearded man rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, yes, of course it’s open for you to leave. Believe me, I wouldn’t do a thing to keep you around me any longer than necessary.”

  Vosko turned to the door, but looked back one more time.

  “What is it?” the bearded man asked, no longer able to hide his impatience.

  “You’re really powerful. We could use someone like you. We wouldn’t have to ever worry about anyone getting in our way. What do you think?”

  “I think that I would get absolutely no benefit from the situation. Why would I possibly choose to surround myself with … people … such as you? You clearly needed me to handle a simple problem, whereas I clearly don’t need you at all. It would be wise for you to not suggest such a thing again. I might get … upset.”

  Vosko stared at him. He considered responding to the obvious insult, especially for fear that his men were losing respect for him by the second, but thought better of it and decided that if any of them wanted to retaliate for the verbal assault they could do it themselves. He’d gladly watch, from a distance. He turned to leave, and the others quickly followed. Seeing that whatever force that surrounded the door had gone, Gareth decided to make another run for the door, but found that his feet wouldn’t move. He didn’t even have to look at the bearded man to know that he was smiling.

  Outside, Vosko pulled out a cigarette and took a deep drag. One of his men approached him, and got practically nose to nose.

  “Are you honestly going to let some priest talk to you like that? And to us? How are we supposed to respect you after you’d just walk away after the things he said?” he asked.