The Dread Lords Rising by J. David Phillips

  *

  Davin watched and waited, uneasy because he knew something dark was coming. Now he felt as if a slap from on unseen hand were on its way. That tree will fall soon, he knew, and Great Lord I hope I’m not beneath it when it does. The Voice had guided them through several dark moments, but now it seemed to have left them to this all alone. Where was it? He wanted its help. What if he led his friends into something that got one of them hurt or worse?

  Ever since Davin’s experience in Kalavere, he felt as if he had slipped on a new skin. That was the only way he could describe it. He had always felt a responsibility to help others in need. But now he felt it more strongly than ever. Even fools like Bode. If something happened to any of them now, and he could have prevented it, that made it partly his fault. And he didn’t want Bode or Salb on his conscience.

  Davin peered through the slit in the tent. Now he had to figure out how to handle this, and spotting the boxes first would be a big help. Peering through a slit of his own, Maerillus shrugged his shoulders.

  Davin’s heart sank.

  The boxes were out of view. That meant they were going to have to change tents, and every move they made would raise their chances of being caught. To pull this off, Davin knew he was going to need the initiative when he stepped out to try reasoning with Bode.

  Before he could motion to Maerillus, he heard Bode yell at Salb to stop. “What are you doing?! There’s a box there you haven’t opened!”

  Davin felt a surge of alarm. He pulled the tent flap aside just enough to see outside.

  “I don’t see any box,” Salb flashed.

  Davin leaned out farther. If anyone looked, they would be able to see his head clearly.

  “The little one right there in front of you, you thick-headed ox-lump!” Bode’s face began to turn scarlet. “I should have done this myself!”

  Salb looked around on the ground, then gave a slight shrug and said, “Get it yourself.”

  Davin saw the box easily. It lay in the grass by Salb’s feet, as if a vicious, black predator had made a nest and crouched to bite at the nearest set of ankles that strayed by.

  Bode stood there, poleaxed for a moment. He wasn’t used to this sort of backtalk. For once, Davin saw something like helpless confusion cross Bode’s face. He glared at Salb for a moment and then stormed over to the thing as if the exchange never happened.

  Davin held his breath; there was no time to stop him. As Bode drew close to the thing, the expression on his face began to change. Storm clouds massing across his brow shifted, and he seemed confused, as if he had eaten something that unexpectedly disagreed with him. He slowed, and his gait became uncertain. Bode appeared to be experiencing two contradictory impulses for the first time in his life. He slowed even more. Clearly, he wanted to get to the box, but now he looked uncertain.

  Then he stopped.

  Bode stared at the box, almost the same way Niam had. But then a flush of white flashed across his face, and Bode collapsed to the ground, landing on his butt with a loud “Ummph!”

  Jalt and Card brayed like two donkeys.

  Bode looked back at them in disbelief.

  Then Salb walked over and stopped between Bode and the box and tossed a bottle of wine down to him. He wore a cruel and drunken leer. “Looks like you need this more than I do.” He laughed even harder. At that, both Card and Jalt seemed about to lapse into a fit of apoplexy.

  Bode worked his mouth, stunned. “Don’t you feel that!?” he belted out.

  “Oh yeah, I’m feeling it good,” Salb slurred slightly.

  “He’s seeing things,” Card called out. “Maybe we shouldn’t have given him our wine!”

  Bode backed away fearfully. He looked at the box, and then at the three of them. His face was slack and openly shocked at the turn of events. “Stop it!” he screamed at them. They only laughed harder.

  “They don’t see the box,” Davin whispered wonderingly.

  Maerillus let out a sound of disgust. “We’ve got another problem.”

  “What?’ Davin asked, not sure whether he wanted to know the answer.

  “Niam,” he said flatly.

  Davin cursed softly. “Where?”

  “You can’t see him from there. I can only just see what he’s doing,” Maerillus said in frustration.

  Davin groaned. “What’s he doing?”

  “He appears to be relieving the horses of their saddles and bridles.” After a brief pause, he added, “And now he’s relieving them of the burden of carrying Bode and his friends back home. He just smacked one on the rump. Either the horses said something to offend him, or he’s chasing them off.”

  Davin cursed again, and then moved Maerillus over so he could see. Indeed, across the camp, Niam was waving the horses away as they galloped out of sight. And that’s when one of the thugs spotted him.

  “Hey! It’s the Maldies brat!”

  Bode spun and saw Niam. “Get him!” he bellowed.

  The three thugs roared in unison.

  Niam looked up, his eyes wide with surprise.

  That’s when all hell broke loose. Suddenly a loud WHUMP! sounded, and several tents lifted high into the air. The ground belched a gout of flame that rose twenty feet and rained down, setting a circle if grass and broken tents alight.

  Everyone stopped and gawked.

  A flash of light caught Davin’s eye, and his attention whipped over to where a box lay. Across its surface red runic writing appeared to glow with a baleful light that grew in intensity.

  Davin screamed a warning just as it burst into a large ball of flame, throwing tents along with their contents flying in every direction. This was followed by another. Then another. The concussion of the blasts rippled the tent fabric, and Maerillus shouted to Davin, “There are more of them hidden among these tents! Run!”

  Just as he and Maerillus fled through the opening, he felt a large force lift him up and fling him helplessly through the air. Finally, the tree hanging above him had crashed down. When he hit the ground, he spiraled across the earth and sat up, gasping for air.