Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

“How long was I out?” Laedron asked, opening his eyes. The camp had been set deep in the woods, and he had been placed on his sleeping bag near the fire.

“Half a day.” Valyrie wiped his face with a wet cloth. Perhaps she doesn’t loathe me after all. Marac or Brice might have told her to do this, though. I cannot be sure if it’s by her want.

“What happened?”

“Marac did everything he could to hold on until we could lower the rope.”

“Everything’s a blur.” Laedron rubbed his temples, then his eyelids. “Everyone made it? Marac and Brice are safe?”

She raised an eyebrow. “The spell must’ve taken quite a bit out of you.”

The spell. My rod . Through the pain, he reached down and searched his body. “Where’s the ruby scepter?”

She twisted around and brought the scepter where he could see it. “Here.”

Taking it and staring into the ruby at the tip, Laedron wondered if the sparkle he’d seen before he passed out had been real or merely a figment of his imagination. He thought back to the moment when he’d blacked out. The sudden strain. Like a pile of bricks falling on top of me. What happened?

“What’s wrong, Lae?” she asked.

“I don’t know. The spell seemed impossible to maintain, so I released it. When I hit the ground, I saw the ruby flicker.” Peering into the gem, his voice cracked. “Everything seemed easier with Ismerelda’s scepter. Until the last time, at least.”

“But why? Is there something special about it?”

“She never told me.”

“Yes, but what do you think?”

He pondered his experiences, searching his memory. “Something about it must cause magic to flow more easily, though I know not what.” He sighed. “More questions. Always more questions. You’d better let me have the wand back for now, in case the scepter doesn’t work.”

She handed it to him. “Will you still teach me?”

“Of course. I didn’t know if you still desired that.”

“You’re up. Good,” Marac said before Valyrie could answer. He walked over and dropped a few broken limbs between Laedron and the fire. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been trampled by a stampede of horses. Achy, and my head hurts.”

Marac handed him a canteen. “Drink that. We’ll have a meal before long.”

“Thank you, Marac.”

“Don’t worry about it. We have plenty of water.”

“No, not that. For saving me.”

“Ah, you don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I don’t? Of course I-”

“You saved me from Gustav and the executioner, so we’ll just call it even. Besides, what else could I do?”

“Thanks anyway.” Laedron sipped some water, but his queasiness made him pause before he drank too much. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. “How far until we reach the ruins? Any way of knowing?”

“The ruins? They’re all around us.” Marac gestured at the worn stones on the ground. “Seems like this is the outskirts of what used to be a great city. This, I think, is your lost city of Myrdwyer.”

A blanket pulled tight about his shoulders, Laedron stood and crept toward a half wall of what must have been the remains of a house or some other small building. He stared into the distance where the stones became more numerous and the trees were few and far between. For a moment, he thought he heard the noises of a bustling metropolis. Probably the wind. It could be nothing else, for this city is long dead and deserted.

“We had better get some food in our bellies and some sleep if we’re to go exploring the ruins tomorrow.” Marac fished through the packs, then pulled out his metal rods and started arranging them over the fire. “I’ll take watch first, and Brice will cover the other half.”

Brice rolled over on his sleeping bag. “I’ll eat later, then take-”

“I’ll take the second half,” Laedron said. “I’m hardly tired.”

As Laedron approached, Marac said, “You’ve been through a lot. Brice can-”

“I said I’ll do it, Marac. I’m sore, but I’ll manage.”

“If you say so, Lae.” Extending his hand, Marac offered a metal rod. “Would you mind helping me with the cooking?”

Without a word, Laedron helped Marac build a grate over the pit, then plopped down on his bedding and rubbed his shoulders. Sorer than I thought at first. Better not make it obvious . He helped Marac season the cuts of beef after a light rinse to remove the salt, and over the next hour, they ate supper.

“Whippoorwill, most likely,” Laedron said, trying to put them at ease when the others searched the air for the source of a mysterious flapping. “I saw a few on the way here.”

“You were awake?” Marac nearly spit out his last bite of meat. “Made us haul you for miles, and you were awake the whole time?”

“No, no.” Laedron waved his hands. “I mean, before the spell, before I passed out.”

Brice shook his head, searching the night for whatever had made the sound. “Sounds like bats.”

“Could be, but no need to worry. Neither will harm us.” No sooner had he finished speaking than Laedron heard the distinct sound of wolves howling in the distance. “No need to worry about that, either.”

“That’s wolves, isn’t it?” Standing, Brice scanned the trees. “They sound hungry.”

“I’ll protect you, Thimble.” Marac puffed out his chest and chuckled. “I won’t let them get you.”

“I’m serious!” Brice said. “They’ll sneak in under the cover of night and attack. Maul us to pieces, they will.”

Glancing at Valyrie, Laedron detected fear in her eyes, too. “Get a hold of yourself, Brice. We’ve dealt with far worse than a few wolves. Do you think I’d let them get us?”

“What if there are twenty? Thirty? You’re in no condition to cast spells, and the rest of us can’t fight so many.”

Marac shook his head. “A thousand? Ten thousand? Wolves don’t hunt in packs that big. At most, we might see five or six, and that’s assuming it’s a big pack and they come this way.”

“You can fight six wolves at once, Lae? As weak as you are?” Brice asked.

“Surely. I’m Laedron Telpist.” He elbowed Marac. “Master of the elements… and wolves to boot.”

A smile crossing his lips, Brice seemed to calm. “All right. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“You’d better, too,” Marac told Laedron. “I’ll come to wake you in a few hours.”

* * *

The crackling of the fire stirred Laedron from his sleep, and he rolled onto his side to watch the flames dance above the coal bed. Opposite him, Valyrie seemed undisturbed. Brice displayed an innocent smile as he slept. He’s probably dreaming of cakes and cider,of perfect looming and amazing stitches. How could Marac hold such contempt for him? I’ve never met a kinder person, Laedron thought. Speaking of Marac, where is he? No matter how hard he strained to peer into the darkness, he couldn’t see his friend.

Sitting up, Laedron straightened his clothes and picked up his scepter. He looked again, but Marac was nowhere to be found.

“Marac,” he whispered. “Marac!” He stood, stuck the scepter into his belt, and called out again, but the only response was Valyrie’s shifting. Not wanting to wake her or Brice, he made his way to the edge of the firelight and peered through the trees. The sudden howling of wolves, seemingly closer than they had been, startled him, but he remained silent. Where has he gone? Damn! He should know better than to go wandering the wilderness without telling anyone. Laedron rolled his eyes at the irony of his thoughts, for he was intent on searching for Marac without alarming the others. Just a quick look around won’t hurt. If I can find him, there’ll be no cause for worry.