Into the Valley of Death Read online

  ‘And so it must have been for Skethris,’ Draeder answered. ‘He would have peered longer and deeper into the haunted places than almost any other man I’ve heard of. No one can do so without suffering ill effects. Whatever power he obtained would have been enormous, but the cost even greater.’

  Draeder stepped away from them, staring off into the sky with an almost dream-like gaze.

  ‘I can see it now… currents of dark magic filled his body, flowing through his blood like the most terrible, wonderful poison,’ he said, raising his arms for effect.

  Felix looked to Erhard then, for they both saw a change in Draeder as he continued. The more hypnotic his words became, the more his voice grew less frightened, until the young wizard almost sounded admiring – even envious. It began to seem as though he was doing more than simply relating a history, more than merely telling a story. He seemed to be enjoying it. His voice lowered, and his pace quickened, as if he were seeing the macabre events he could not possibly have witnessed.

  ‘The dark magic corroded his body, forcing him to delve deeper and into ever more foul reaches to preserve his flesh, to stave off the decay that only grew worse with every passing year,’ he continued, stretching out his own arms either to give effect to his words, or else imagining himself performing the acts he described with such careful, intimate detail.

  ‘Just as his body failed him then, so too did his mind. The things he witnessed beyond the veil haunted him, driving him past the brink of madness until he fell into a permanent nightmare from which he could never awake.’

  Felix and Erhard looked to each other, and then back to Draeder, momentarily lost in his own rambling story-telling. He did not seem inclined to continue.

  ‘And then what?’ Felix prodded.

  Draeder was a moment in responding, staring off into the distance a while longer. When he did finally turn back, his cadence had returned to normal.

  ‘Eventually, I imagine he could not sustain himself any longer, and that was finally how he passed out of existence, fading into the shadows he had so long struggled to master,’ he said. ‘No one really knows, truth be told.’

  ‘How do you know the book is still there, if the necromancer himself has indeed passed away?’ Torsten asked.

  ‘There can be no doubt that Skethris had the book. No one has seen or heard from him in decades. He is surely long dead by now,’ he answered. ‘It is rumoured that other expeditions have ventured into these wilds before, seeking the same thing we do. But the book has never been seen anywhere else in all that time, even though possessing it would bestow enormous power upon whoever owned it. The only conclusion is that none of them returned.

  ‘Thus, the reasonable place to look is where the trail ends. The book is there, of that I have no doubt,’ Draeder said.

  ‘If no one has returned alive, then that means others have ventured into this cursed land and failed in the same endeavour you have now set us upon,’ Felix said. ‘How exactly do you propose to spare us the same fate?’

  Draeder smiled. He lifted his glowing, flaming scythe overhead. Its peculiar purple light fell on them like a cold rain.

  ‘I have here fused the dark energy that pervaded the flesh of that mutant hound with the winds of Shyish, the source of all Amethyst magic. In so doing I have woven this veil of violet light, whose source is the wild energy of the forest itself. It will help protect us from the savage horrors that lurk in the deep of the cursed land.’

  All of them stepped closer together, drenched in the light of the purple, magical flame. Draeder rolled up the map and handed it to Erhard. Then he held up his magical scythe and announced what they all knew.

  ‘Now we are prepared to approach the Valley of Death.’

  Excerpt, Journal of Felix Jaeger – Unpublished, undated

  Our journey has been long, these past several months. Beset by dangers and hazards each and every day, I fear I have not had the occasion to make entry in this journal as often as I might otherwise have done. Having now come upon the best shelter we’ve found in weeks, I finally have the opportunity to once again open these pages that I might chronicle at least some of the perils we have survived of late.

  Since we left behind the ancient road, the path charted upon Draeder von Halkern’s map has led us on a winding route, ever deeper into the dim reaches of the Great Forest, a dark and thickly grown wilderness where a foul mist lays upon the land at every hour and currents of polluted air move with every shifting of the wind.

  Unspeakable vermin have been our constant companions, creeping out from infested groves of twisted, unnatural trees and swooping down to sting at us from above. The pestilent undergrowth swarms with carnivorous plants that slither thorny vines through the mud, reaching out to strike at every turn.

  On occasion the light of the purple flame has indeed protected us from a cruel and grisly fate, just as Draeder promised. The eerie fire hid us from both a horde of immense spiders and two marauding packs of rabid tuskgors. But more often than not, the conjured flame was no guarantee of safe passage. On more than one occasion over these trying, difficult months, we have been forced to fight for our very survival amidst this fierce and terrible wilderness.

  A vicious tribe of forest goblins nearly overwhelmed us a while back, after we charted what now appears to have been an unwise shortcut around a smouldering crater. Erhard and I both took the heads of more than a dozen each, while the brothers Strang and Torsten proved their worth as well, battling bravely alongside one another in a long and desperate fight, a struggle that claimed the lives of two of our number: both Reinhard and Volker.

  Less than a week later we were forced into a similarly narrow escape upon trespassing over the sacred burial lands of a troll clan. That misstep had imprisoned us all for days in a deep pit of the trolls’ camp, and had brought one more of our men to the premature end of his journey, Walder having been roasted upon a spit and eaten by the barbaric creatures. We could hear his horrific screams for hours as the contemptible creatures burned him alive, and I must truly confess that it was perhaps both the longest and the worst single night of my entire life.

  I managed to trick the dullest of the trolls into releasing me from the vile pit the following morning. That was a mistake that Strang and Torsten made the troll pay for with his life, as the rest of us regained our horses and rode away.

  I fear the dreams of gold are fading in the minds of my companions as our trek begins to keep us in this horrid realm far longer than any of us expected. The brothers have already started to grumble. Strang, as laconic a soldier as there is, yet confines his complaints to his superior, Erhard. Torsten, however, less experienced and disciplined than his elder sibling, has begun to talk openly of abandoning the adventure altogether.

  As dusk fell yesterday evening, we could detect a change in the terrain. The ground has grown hilly and rocky. Draeder now seems moved by some new urgency.

  I await the sunrise yet again. Of what horrors may yet lurk ahead I cannot even begin to guess.

  6.

  For several days they trekked up-hill, their horses slowed by the increasingly difficult ground they were forced to negotiate as the Great Forest became even more rolling and strewn with rocks. A deeper chill seemed to fill the air as they moved higher in elevation, condensing into a thick mist as they continued under the ever-present shadows of tall, ancient trees and vermin-haunted thickets.

  The tree-line seemed to falter however, when they came to the sight of a long ridge above them. The dense growth that had long surrounded them faded into scattered copses of oaks and lonely pines across the length of the long slope that led up to the bare, stony rise.

  Beyond it, the forest came to an abrupt end. What lay ahead was an altogether different landscape, unlike anything they’d witnessed on their journey. A bleak expanse of scrub brush and exposed rock.

  ‘Finally… the Barren Hills,’ Draede
r announced, as they all came over the ridge to survey the lands before them.

  Slate grey and the pale yellow of withered grass dominated the vista in every direction. The terrain was fractured and uneven, dented by deep swales and scattered with jagged, stony outcroppings that reached up into a fog of low-hanging clouds. A cruel stink hung over the empty wasteland, the odour of stagnant marsh water and hints of sulphur fumes.

  Draeder alone among them seemed encouraged by the frightful vista, and it spurred him forward with a renewed purpose, his eyes alternating between the map and the seemingly forsaken lands. He rode out ahead of the party, taking his horse down a precarious slope and then up along the edge of a barrel-shaped rock mound. For a moment, he looked out in each direction, searching for a landmark or some other point of reference on his map.

  When the rest of the riders caught up to him, he turned and pointed toward another hillock half-shrouded in the mist. They once again followed, only to repeat the same routine yet again, and then a third and fourth time until their passage through the foggy barrens seemed to stretch on for hours.

  Overhead, massive carrion birds appeared out of the haze. The unnaturally large crows squealed and circled, five or ten at a time. For a long while, the foul scavengers stalked the party from the air, keeping pace with them as they went. Always present, but never close enough to reach.

  Paying the birds little attention, Draeder once again rode out ahead of them, his eyes snared by some formation in the hazy distance. At Erhard’s direction, Strang and Torsten took to the gallop behind him, leaving Felix with him, behind at the rear-guard.

  ‘Would it be impertinent to suggest that we may be lost?’ Felix asked, as they watched the trio charge into the fog beyond.

  Erhard grunted.

  ‘It would be,’ he said. Then his gruff, craggy face widened in a broad smile as he continued. ‘But that wouldn’t make you wrong.’

  Felix laughed. As rough a man as he was, Erhard had become something of a mentor to him over the long months of their journey. The old sergeant may not have been of high birth, but it was clear that he had earned his position as a leader of men.

  ‘You don’t trust him, do you?’ Felix said. ‘I wouldn’t mention it in general company, but given our present circumstances, I may not have another opportunity.’

  Erhard looked out, first to Draeder galloping out once again in the distance, then back to Felix. Again, he answered in the simple, direct manner to which Felix had become accustomed.

  ‘I do not,’ he said.

  Although it confirmed his suspicions, hearing the old sergeant speak them so plainly struck Felix.

  ‘I’m not certain I ever have, truth be told,’ Erhard continued. ‘But even less so now.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better that I speak no more of this,’ Erhard said. ‘I know that you look up to him, that you see something of yourself in Draeder, in your shared background.’

  Felix agreed, but pressed the conversation regardless.

  ‘I do respect what he’s done, given his circumstances,’ Felix said. ‘I understand what it’s like to be cast aside by a prominent family. But I’ve also seen how you carry yourself these past months. You care about your men and you’re as fine a solider as I’ve ever known.’

  Erhard nodded.

  ‘Thank you, young sir,’ he said.

  ‘So then you must tell me, as we’re moving ever deeper into this strange wilderness at Draeder’s behest – you have known the man far longer than I – what troubles you?’

  ‘You’ve seen what I’ve seen, have you not?’ Erhard replied. ‘I trust a man I can count on. A man who can handle a sword, as you can. Some of Draeder’s spell-casting works, some of it does not. Would you call that reliable?’

  ‘His magic does seem rather… erratic,’ Felix said, relieved that he was able to express his own concerns openly for the first time.

  ‘That’s charitable,’ Erhard replied. ‘At times his conjuring has been quite useless indeed. I don’t trust wizards as a rule, but one who cannot be counted on in battle is one I will never put my faith in.’

  ‘It is strange, as you say. He wears the weathered robes of an old, wise wizard,’ Felix replied. ‘I know very little of the Colleges of Magic, but I had always heard that mages of that sort engaged in long study, for decades sometimes, before they attained the mantle of a full-fledged wizard.’

  ‘So had I,’ Erhard answered. ‘But Draeder was gone from his father’s estate for no more than three years before he returned, clothed in the way you see him now, in the age-worn regalia of an old adept.’

  ‘And dispatched on a mission of some importance by his superiors, no less,’ Felix said. ‘Do you suspect he’s lying?’

  The question seemed to make Erhard uncomfortable. He winced as he answered, clearly reluctant to continue the exchange.

  ‘I can’t say I suspect anything in particular,’ Erhard said. ‘Though in my experience, I’ve found it better to suspect everything. That’s the reason I’ve lived this long.’

  Felix smiled. He was about to reply, when a scream interrupted.

  Both men arched up in their saddles. The rest of their party had just vanished in the mist ahead of them, obscured by a bank of dense fog that had settled over a low swale. Another followed. The first was a cry of pain. The second was a call of battle.

  Felix noticed the crows were gone from overhead. Neither man said a word. They simply charged.

  Galloping headlong into the low terrain, they soon found themselves swallowed up by the cold, heavy mist. The hooves of their horses splashed through a boggy flat of stagnant, muddy water. The fog was so thick at the bottom of the marshy vale that Felix and Erhard could barely see an arm’s length in front of them.

  That was when they heard the terrible squeals close in from above.

  The black birds strafed them, diving down out of the thick clouds and then retreating back into the grey. Talons clutched at them, tearing at their horses and ripping across their shoulders. Wings flapped and soared in every direction, as the screeching swelled into a rage.

  Felix swung his sword wildly overhead, trying to fight through the haze to see what he was striking as he struggled to beat back the attackers from above. Blood splattered into his eyes. Black feathers wet with slime and stinking of carrion fell in every direction.

  Their forward gallop brought Felix and Erhard together with the others, all of them swarmed by the vicious birds.

  ‘Ride hard men!’ Erhard shouted through the mist. ‘Climb the slopes out of this blasted marsh or we’ll never see the sun again!’

  Felix kicked his boots into the side of his mount, joining the others in a hard, blind gallop forward. The raven swarm did not relent. Even as they urged their horses on, the birds continued their onslaught.

  But with the forced ride, the horses quickly found a slope on the far end of the swale, bringing them all up to a crest where the fog cleared. Out of the mist and finally able to see again, the men swatted down the ravens who remained, slashing and chopping any who swept low enough to reach.

  When it was over, the remains of the bird swarm lay scattered in every direction; leaving them at the centre of a field of blood and butchered ravens.

  ‘I thought those were supposed to be scavengers, just carrion birds,’ Felix said, panting as he fought to catch his breath.

  Draeder however, regarded the carnage with an almost solemn eye, looking over messy, scattered remains of the slain animals with a kind of reverence.

  ‘In the Barren Hills, you’ll find that very little is what you would expect,’ he said.

  7.

  Draeder once again studied the vista before them. He scanned the map, looked at the fields of seemingly featureless stone and scrub weeds and pointed them toward a rounded barrow hill just a short ride off. Once they arrived
at the tumulus, a low and unremarkable mound, he quite unexpectedly issued an order that none of them wanted to hear.

  ‘We’ll set up camp here for the evening,’ he declared.

  The men bristled, and Erhard spoke up for them.

  ‘We have several hours of daylight left, and given what we’ve just gone through, we’re all restless to get on with this journey. Let us press on at least ’til nightfall,’ the old sergeant said.

  Draeder shook his head, flashing his hand with the same dismissive wave he had so often used to silence his long-serving aide-de-camp. This time however, he found the gesture met with some resistance.

  ‘We should keep moving ahead,’ Erhard said, edging his horse near enough to grab Draeder by the arm. ‘Unless you have lost your way.’

  The affront to his authority drew a cold stare from the young wizard.

  ‘We have not gone astray and I have never taken orders from you, old man,’ he said. ‘I certainly have no intention of starting now.’

  Erhard would not relent.

  ‘We’ve all sacrificed for this mission of yours,’ he said. ‘Most of my men have been lost already, every one of them claimed by a death I would not wish upon my enemies. Yet we have seen nothing to make us believe we are any closer to our goal.’

  ‘Is this some rebellion you’ve concocted?’ Draeder replied. ‘Are you now to mutiny against me like traitorous sailors upon a lost ship – and after my magic has protected you for this entire way?’

  Felix could feel the tension. It had been simmering between them all for weeks. While Draeder’s claim of magical prowess was rather an exaggeration and Erhard was now verging on outright breach of his oath of fealty, Felix nonetheless tried to manoeuvre his horse between the two in an effort to diffuse the situation.

  ‘An explanation might go further than you think,’ he said to Draeder, attempting to mediate. ‘Perhaps Ernst is out of line, but even still he is right. We’ve all suffered on this trek and in so doing we have all demonstrated our loyalty as well. I’m sure I speak for every one of us in saying that if we are indeed finally close to the end, then you must tell us why we do not proceed.’