A Courageous Quest by Valmore Daniels

Author:Valmore Daniels [Daniels, Valmore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fables
Publisher: Valmore Daniels
Published: 2015-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three

Land Of The Mage

Chapter Eleven

The Land of the Mage was a bleak land pitted against an even bleaker backdrop of night sky.

The earth was as black as charcoal and devoid of native life: no trees, no underbrush, no flowers, no insects, no little furry animals scampering along the ground … nothing.

There was not even a star in the sky. It was as though this Land were in a different part of the universe, a long-forgotten part. Then Leif amended his thoughts: It is a different part.

The only light came from torches set atop high poles jutting from the ground like naked, starved trees. One small black cloud that seemed to hover directly over Leif showered them with a light sprinkle of rain.

Even in day—if there was day in this infernal place—the Land would be just as soulless and depressing. Leif’s mind railed against its perverted existence, denied that it could even exist.

How could anyone live here? Yet, surprisingly, there were people everywhere he looked. He saw countless beings of all types—sprites, elves, dwarfs, gnomes, giants—trudging around. Bound in chains, they all wore looks of misery. They were slaves and prisoners to the monsters who guarded them.

It was so nightmarish that Leif could not believe these things were happening. It was as if it came from someone’s twisted, demented imagination. Leif was so shocked at the horrors he witnessed that he could not willfully close his gaping mouth, nor could he turn his head away from the despair and misery of the slaves.

Timber had been right—this was worse than being killed by Gorr. Leif had made a terrible mistake. He had thought this was a fairy tale he was living through. It was a nightmare, and he had volunteered to wander down the dark path that had no end, promising everlasting misery. His fault. All his fault.

Gorr flipped Leif over his shoulder roughly, bringing a short bark of pain from the boy as the wind rushed out of his lungs. He could not even find a voice to protest. The monster proceeded on toward a dark, shadowed spot in the distance, indifferent to his prisoner’s struggles.

Leif, finally getting his wind back, breathed deeply—even fetid air was still air. He twisted around to see where they were headed, and his eyes widened in shock. The dark spot was taking shape. It was a fortress. The Mage’s? he wondered.

A terrible tightening sensation grew at Leif’s temples as he realized that whatever atrocities he had seen out here in the open land, inside the fortress it was worse. He would die in there, he was certain. Whatever fate lay before him in that fortress would be painful, messy, merciless … and he would not even have anyone like Samson there to be close to him in his final moments: just monsters who would revel in his death throes.

The fortress seemed to grow bigger as they got closer. The black, starless sky only served to enhance the dark grandeur of the immense stronghold, illuminated by what must be hundreds of thousands of torches, Leif guessed.

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