Shadow Cursed Read online

  She was happy that Jack could take advantage of the first of the houses built, but it did bring back the heartache of missing Gabriel. She decided to take the longer route past the construction works to calm herself.

  She stopped when she saw a man sitting at the entrance to one of the houses. He appeared distraught, his head hung and she could hear that he was crying. Tasha almost left him undisturbed but a wave of his despair washed over her and she knew she had to help him.

  As she approached him she lowered her hood to hide her identity but he barely noticed as she sat down beside him.

  She placed her hand on his and let her power flow into him to calm him. She could sense instantly that there was nothing physically wrong with him and realized that she might be in over her head.

  She was surprised when he said, “Where do the faithful go when they lose faith?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked confused.

  “I had faith once, I had a family that I loved and people came to me because I had faith even when things seemed bad. But now I’ve lost my family, my friends, even my faith in my God.”

  “Faith is not something that can be taken away easily, it can be battered and broken but it grows stronger in adversity,” she said realizing the man was a priest.

  “What do you know of faith girl! What has been taken from you!” he said in anger.

  “Gabriel,” she answered, the pain finally released by saying his name aloud. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  “My child I’m sorry, I’ve been so deep in despair since… I should have realized I was not the only one. Tell me, who is Gabriel?” he asked as he held her trembling body.

  “We met on this planet. I don’t know when I fell in love with him, but I did. He had to leave me to help someone and I fear for his life,” she sobbed.

  “Don’t worry child, love will carry him back to you. I’ve seen it a hundred times,” he said trying to comfort her.

  She tried to pull herself together and said, “He went into the forest.”

  “Do you believe that he is still alive, child?” the priest asked hesitantly.

  “I know he is, I can see him in my dreams and when I do I feel his heartbeat as if it were my own.”

  The man seemed startled for a moment then he hesitantly brushed the hair away from her forehead to reveal the crystal. “Lady, forgive me,” he said reverently.

  She wiped her tears away. “I am a woman like any other. Thank you for treating me like one for a while.”

  “Thank you L... Tasha. Thank you! My name is Jacob.” he shouted after her as she walked away.

  Tasha hurried along the path until she reached Jack’s house and hesitated on the doorstep wiping her tears away. After a minute she felt calmer and knocked on the door.

  The door was wrenched open and seconds later Jack lifted her in a bear hug. “She’s here honey,” he shouted over his shoulder as he put her down.

  Tasha couldn’t help smiling as he led her into the tiny apartment and described the place as if it were a palace. His wife peered out of the kitchen and greeted her as she finished the cooking.

  Tasha offered to help and set the table as Jack and Isabella brought the food out.

  They discussed the goings on around Central, the smith works starting to make usable steel, the water well being completed. Plans to create a boiler to supply hot water by spring and news about Blackrock Keep. All the while Tasha skirted the issue of Gabriel and Jack and Isabella played along.

  Finally she turned the conversation towards Gabriel by asking, “How are the forest patrols going Jack?”

  He eyed his wife for a moment and said, “The goblins seem to have disappeared completely, which makes our lives much easier. But we have seen other strange creatures moving through the forest. The tracks seem to indicate packs of giant wolves, lots of them. We steer well clear of them, no sense making more enemies that we already have.”

  Isabella kicked him under the table and he hesitated before saying, “I’ve seen no sign of Gabriel since he left, Tasha.”

  “Then he has reached the mountains,” said Tasha relieved.

  “What?” asked Jack confused.

  “I dream of Gabriel every night Jack, he has fought alongside dwarves and giant wolves, in an ancient city at the base of a mountain range.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “He really is fighting with dwarves. I wish he had let me go with him.” Isabella asked Tasha to help her clear the dishes as Jack broke out into laughter, probably picturing dwarves fighting goblins, thought Tasha.

  Tasha brushed Isabella’s hand as she passed a plate to her and felt a faint spark of life. She whispered to Isabella, “How long have you known about the child?”

  “For a while,” said Isabella smiling, her red hair swirling as she turned to wash the dishes.

  “Why haven’t you told him about the boy?” Tasha asked.

  Her eyes lit up as she said the words, “A boy.”

  “What boy?” asked Jack from the other room.

  “Yours you lazy bugger,” replied Isabella smiling.

  Jack was in the small kitchen within seconds filling the room and lifting Isabella in the air.

  “Is it true, my sweet?” She nodded and he swung her around, knocking dishes everywhere. “I’m going to be a daddy!” he shouted.

  “Let me down you big oaf,” she said kissing the top of his head.

  “How long have you known?” he asked, gently putting her down.

  “Only a few weeks,” she said.

  “A few weeks woman, we have to get ready,” he said.

  “He’s going to be insufferable from now on,” said Isabella to Tasha.

  Jack raced to the front door and wrenched it open. He shouted out, “I’m going to be a father.”

  Tasha smiled and congratulated Isabella hugging her tightly. For a while her own pain was forgotten.

  CHAPTER 70

  Gabriel

  True to his word, Hanbar led Gabriel through the armoury of Broken Pass Keep. Every wall and shelf was lined with weapons and armour. An entire section was devoted to shields of every size and shape imaginable. Gabriel passed axes that glowed when he passed and others that made him back away with a feeling of dread. Hanbar seemed unperturbed but Gabriel could not shake a feeling of danger.

  The quiet began to unnerve Gabriel so he asked, “Why do some weapons glow when I am near them and others make me ill at ease?”

  Hanbar looked at one of the offending weapons, running his eyes over the runes. “Your presence has activated a minor life detection spell that is designed to ignore dwarves. We use that rune as a means of locating an enemy presence before it finds us. The other weapons are more subtle, they mask their own glowing runes and radiate fear at anything not dwarf-like. It slows down goblin and dweller reactions in battle.”

  Hanbar moved briskly on filling the room with his deep voice, “This was our storehouse for when we finally had the numbers to retake the Citadel. As you can see we barely touched it, we were expecting a different kind of help.”

  Hanbar took a sharp left and moved down a few rows before saying, “I’m guessing you prefer swords to axes, this aisle is dedicated to the elves. We were going to ask them to join us when we assaulted the Citadel but when the goblins closed the valleys between us we eventually turned to making weapons only we could use. The funny thing is there are probably no elven swordmaster's alive today and we have thousands of swords.”

  Gabriel would have said something ironic but the words dropped from his mind as he started to wander down the row of weapons. Short swords, claymores, rapiers and swords he could not even name were stacked blade down next to each other and packed at least a yard back into the shelf.

  He wandered in a daze down the aisle touching the rune blade surfaces, Hanbar grabbed his shoulder and said, “Please don’t do that, a blade should be honoured for its craftsmanship not touched like a bauble, besides, some of these blades could be deadly to touch.”

  Ho
lding his hands behind his back Gabriel continued to wander down the aisle until he came to the end of the row, where his eyes became mesmerized by the swords hanging on the wall facing down the corridor. Samurai swords, a pair of matched blades hanging naked next to their sheaths. The blades seemed to dance with reflected light at the slightest move, its runes uncharacteristically blue rather than the white runes Gabriel had seen on every other weapon and armour he had passed.

  Hanbar coughed behind him and said, “You find the prize amongst our swords. This was to be given to the Emperor or Empress of the elves should they aid us. The blue colour of the runes come from a rare form of magic crystal, a similar pair of sabres were given to one of the elven emperors a long time ago.”

  “Those are the weapons I would have chosen,” said Gabriel wistfully.

  “You have given the dwarven nation a chance to survive Gabriel, the swords are a small thing to part with. The elves gave their word they would aid us in our time of need as we aided them when the goblins were swarming the Riverlands. So far we have not received any communication or aid. They are yours to take. The right hand weapon is called Honour, the runes translated say that as long as you use them with honour they will never break, and the left hand weapon is called Courage - it says as long as you have courage it will always protect you.”

  “Do they have any powers, like bursting into flame?” asked Gabriel.

  “Flames must have fuel Gabriel, we have tried it before but fire feeds off the sword or the wielder, neither is pleasant. The only charm is the naming runes which are very powerful. Come, let’s find some elven armour for you, perhaps we can find something for your men as well. Our crossbows are generally far heavier than you are used to but I remember some innovative designs that may be small enough for your men.”

  Hanbar began listing the weapons from memory as Gabriel strapped the swords across his back. The handles felt warm to the touch and well balanced when he tested them in a few thrusts and parries. Now all he had to do was learn how to use two swords better than he could use one he thought as they clanged together.

  Gabriel hurried to catch up with Hanbar as the light of his torch faded away.

  CHAPTER 71

  Bittermouth

  The raiding party followed the blood trail as it wound up the mountain following a route that provided cover from the valley below. All was well until a violent explosion knocked Bittermouth over from behind. The next thing he knew a landslide was pouring down on him and he was dodging rocks and boulders.

  Several rocks struck him bruising and tearing his back and arm, but Bittermouth finally managed to get clear, coughing and spitting the dust out his mouth and lungs.

  When the mountainside stopped moving and his equilibrium returned, Bittermouth counted the pack and was irritated to find that three were missing. He led the others into the dust cloud and discovered the crushed remains of two goblins. The third was even further back, trapped beneath the rock that had shattered his legs. Bittermouth moved quickly forward and sliced his throat before the warrior could protect himself.

  Bittermouth went to the edge of the settling dust cloud and scanned the slopes ahead. Behind him he heard the others cutting the meat off their slain brothers and feeding. They would eat well before daybreak. A movement in the distance caught his eye but he could not be sure if it was their prey.

  An unblooded brought the heart from the goblin Bittermouth had killed and handed it reverently to him. Bittermouth bit deeply into the meat and savoured the blood as it entered his mouth. Feeling generous he left some meat for the unblooded to eat as well, it was probably his first taste of heart and would likely be his last until he made his own kill and received a name from the tribe’s shaman. Until then he was without rank and had to wait until the others finished before he could eat the scraps they left behind.

  Bittermouth waited until the best meat had been scavenged then ordered a faster pace. He knew that the elves were close and might still be within reach before the sun rose.

  When they finally reached the elves’ resting place the smell was delicious but the prey had long since left, at least that was what Bittermouth believed until something caught his eye and that of the unblooded youth.

  Something seemed to be moving behind a boulder but was impossible to get a good look at. Bittermouth could feel a sense of danger but the youth could not pass the opportunity by. He watched in fascination as the youth ran to the rock and as he moved behind it he dropped through the ground as if swallowed by it.

  Another goblin moved forward when he caught sight of the movement but Bittermouth gave a sharp growl and the goblin slunk back.

  Bittermouth moved slowly forward fighting the urge to run behind the rock and catch whatever was hidden there. As he moved behind the boulder his foot slipped into the ground almost taking him with it. Falling backwards, sweat beaded on his brow as the urge to move behind the rock became uncontrollable. Bittermouth edged forward and saw the magicked branch embedded in the ground behind the rock.

  Fearing another magic trap Bittermouth used his dagger to force the branch out of the ground. As it broke contact with the earth the magic it was drawing stopped and the spell failed. Bittermouth watched as the ground inches from him wavered and disappeared.

  It took a full minute to pull himself together and when he finally turned round he found the others had also been drawn close to the precipice. Only his sharp order had stopped them from following the unblooded over the edge.

  They were going to pay for this, the unblooded had been his to kill, not theirs. Now the young meat was far down the mountainside smashed on the rocks where he could not reach it.

  They moved more carefully from then on, Bittermouth leading the way using his nose to try and determine where the mage had lingered for any length of time giving him the opportunity to lay another trap.

  Bittermouth was not disappointed. He halted the pack another two hundred yards further on before a narrow cliff pass. The smell was strong near the middle which meant another magic trap was definitely nearby.

  Where the smell was strongest Bittermouth spotted a small seed pod lying on the ground, almost hidden by rocks and dust. The only safe way across would be to activate the spell before they crossed. Bittermouth gathered some stones together and began to pelt the ground by the seed. Eventually the seed moved and the mountain vibrated under his feet as another landslide poured down the slope over the narrow path.

  The others clapped him on the back but when the dust settled Bittermouth’s good mood disappeared with it. Bittermouth swore. A large section of the path was missing and they would have to backtrack to the other trail a hundred yards back and follow it until it looped back to this one.

  They marched back and as they started up the other path Bittermouth lost the scent of the elves as they moved away from the trail. Within throwing distance of the cliff edge Bittermouth caught a whiff of the mage for a second and his blood ran cold. He whipped round in time to see a goblin grabbing a piece of cloth suspended on a thorn bush. As the goblin’s hand touched the cloth he burst into flame. The others scattered as he charged back down the path and over the cliff like a shooting star.

  The only trace he left behind was the stench of burning meat which caused Bittermouth to sneeze. Bittermouth shouted out, “Touch nothing!” Infuriated he charged ahead at a dangerous speed along the new path. The mage was smart, he had seen the narrow crossing ahead and the second trail, without stopping he had laid a subtle trap on the second trail and then made a more obvious one further along on the narrow crossing.

  The only consolation Bittermouth had was the fact that when this trail looped back to the one the elves were following there was only one way down, straight into the trap the shaman was laying for them in the Valley of Kings.

  CHAPTER 72

  Dagar

  Dagar watched as the shaman pointed at various hiding places and the goblin warriors broke up to conceal themselves amongst the shattered statues. Only days bef
ore the Valley of Kings had boasted over thirty statues of dwarven kings, both as a memorial and defence against magic wielders. Now only one headless statue remained standing, their greatest work yet, commemorating the last dwarven king, dressed for battle with his favourite axe in hand.

  Dagar could see that the magic destruction had only just touched the last statue leaving all the others shattered and broken.

  The dragon’s bones still lay where it had fallen as the dwarves only had time to strip the prime materials from the carcass, its meat and organs were even now rotting on banquet tables half eaten.