Defenders of the Sacred Land: Expanded and Re-Issued (The Sacred Land Legacy Book 1) by Mark E. Tyson

Author:Mark E. Tyson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Epic Fantasy
Publisher: Shadesilver Publishing
Published: 2017-07-06T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25: Into the Ruins

Dorenn immediately started after Tatrice, but Vesperin held him back. “You can’t get to her fast enough. There are too many just inside the gate. You would never make it.”

Dorenn stared at Tatrice in horror, her motionless body frail and helpless just beyond the ruined gates. “I don’t see any danger here. I have to go to her.”

Kerad stepped in front of him. “Don’t be a fool, boy!”

“Coming here may not have been a good idea after all,” Gondrial sighed as he pulled his sword from its sheath.

“I just said that not ten minutes ago,” Enowene said.

“Aye, and I’m agreeing with you.”

Kerad produced his short mace from the belt beneath his robes and glanced around apprehensively. “Too late to worry about any of that now,” he said. “Watch yourselves; there is no way of knowing what kind of curse these people suffer from. Each one will be different as well as difficult to kill. I am guessing most can be dispatched by a hard blow to the head.” He motioned the move with his mace.

Dorenn readied his sword and glanced nervously at Sylvalora, who stood with her eyes closed, muttering softly.

Rennon leaned into Dorenn. “What does he mean by kill? Aren’t they already dead?”

Dorenn shrugged. “I don’t know, but if I had to guess, I would say he means to incapacitate them.”

Kerad grimaced as he practiced his mace, swinging it in midair in a circular pattern. Dorenn could tell the old cleric had not swung his mace in a long while. Kerad stopped swinging and began to rub his right shoulder with his left hand. “Vesperin, how far have your prayers gone?”

“I have obtained the right of cleric, Brother Kerad.”

“Good, I thought you seemed older than an adept.” Kerad turned his head to address the group, and he raised his voice slightly. “Let Vesperin and I handle the cursed abominations wearing armor as they will be much more difficult to dispatch than the townspeople.”

Vesperin gulped.

Dorenn clenched his frigid fingers tighter on the hilt of his sword. He wished he had worn something over his hands. Slowly he worked out the stiffness and warmed up his arm by swinging his sword in the air the way Swordmaster Grint had taught him. Dorenn swung it around and then touched the tip to the ground in a slicing motion. He noticed for the first time that a greenish-blue ground fog had begun to collect around their feet.

“Ugh! What is that horrid smell?” Vesperin pinched his nose.

“And what’s that green fog?” Dorenn asked. He sniffed the air and cringed. “The smell seems to become stronger as the fog becomes thicker.”

“It’s the stench of death and decay. Follow my lead and keep close,” Kerad said, moving slowly in the direction of Tatrice. “That fog is a sign of the accursed people moving about. Stay clear of it if you can.”

Gondrial snickered. “Stench of death.”

Enowene gave him a stern look.

Two armored figures lumbered from each side of the gate, dragging their feet in an unnatural stammer.

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