Dalagar

By Bob Miley

Fantasy action on the world of Dalagar! A young man comes of age while overcoming personal loss and tragedy. He discovers hidden magic and lifelong companions, and together they manage to help save the world from overwhelming evil. There are strong valiant characters, centered around three women, warriors all, and they help lead a diverse group through wide-ranging adventures. Our heroes prevail throughout the unique challenges of a magical world, including Evil Clouds, vicious wild animals, telepathic horses, and invisible troops. There is Ground Magic, Group Magic, and Natural Magic, all different but all an endemic part of Dalagar, not to mention the magic of romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bob Miley
• Release date: Apr 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087940649

Bob Miley

Bob Miley is a retired Mental Health Expert. He is retired, and he works on his writing in Colorado. Dalagar is his first in a series of novels all taking place on the mythical world of Dalagar.

Book preview

Map of Dalagar

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CHAPTER I

Leaving Shelby Run

Tamin Dacree knew how to hide in plain sight. He would simply climb twenty feet up a tree and sit behind the leaves. When he did this, it was like he disappeared, because even if he stayed in the branches for two hours, no one ever found him. Of course, he was old enough to do this safely at nearly nineteen, an age when most young men spent their pastime energy in other ways. For Tamin, being in his tree was more than mere diversion. It was his refuge, his safe haven when things at home grew tense. Lately, the tension was as high as he had ever seen.

This year was the worst of five bad years in succession with ongoing drought and widespread crop failures. It had come to mean hardship throughout the countryside and in the town of Shelby Run itself. Tamin’s family owned and operated their flour mill on Elba Creek at the edge of the community, but after the last few years their business was failing. In many ways, the Dacrees shared both the lifestyle of the country and that of the town, so the family livelihood was sensitive in both directions. When the drought had first begun, Tamin’s father, Edron, had supplemented the shortfall of grain from the farms by drawing on surplus he kept in storage. This gave the Duprees the ability to keep their prices down, and they did not lose customers. However, partway through the second year, Edron had used up all the surplus, and he was forced to pay more to the farmers for their grain, leaving him with no choice but to raise the price for his flour. Eventually, people began bartering for trade instead of using money. This year the townspeople were growing what they could themselves. Hardly anything had come from the farms in this year’s harvest, and there just was not any grain to be milled anymore.

Sighing, Tamin thought of how boring all this would be if it was not fundamentally important. It had affected the Dacree family in a basic way, forcing Tamin and his sister, Sherrill, to take jobs in town. When she was not busy helping at the mill, Sherrill waited tables at a local tavern, the Rum Passage. Meanwhile, the only outside work Tamin could find was working for a local pest control contractor. For Tamin, this was an area of specialty. Honed by many hours of watching the mill’s grain in storage near a river, he had become quite adept at trapping rodents. Every bit the two youngsters made was turned over to their mother, Ninette. She worked wonders in using it to keep the household going. Even so, these measures had not been enough to save the mill.

Edron had gathered them in conference a month ago to discuss their options. Although they all honestly tried their best to explore creative ideas, the only realistic choice had been to sell the mill and move to the prosperous lake city of Kaladar. Edron’s brother, Nebo, was established there, and Edron had reason to think his brother would help the family with his business contacts. Soon after this family meeting, Edron sold the mill for a fraction of its worth to local landholders who had allowed the Dacrees a few days to pack and prepare for their move. The deadline was tomorrow, and the Dacree family, along with some neighbors, would leave this morning.

As the dawn light began to brighten the tree’s autumn colors around him, Tamin sighed again. He knew the family had little choice, and he had no doubt whatsoever that he would be a willing part of the move. Despite the hardships of the last few years, the Dacrees were a close family who cared for each other at their core. Tamin thoroughly respected his father, and he had hoped to follow the family tradition of being a millwright. Now he supposed that whatever his father took up in Kaladar he would find interesting, as well. Who knew? Maybe they could find millwork or a mill to take over. After all, the people in big cities used flour, too.

Perhaps he might even have a chance for adventure around the lake, a frequent fantasy he entertained. Also, maybe Sherrill could find a proper suitor in Kaladar, he mused. After working in the tavern, she had soured on most of the local youths of courting age. How was it she had expressed it? Oh, yes, something to the effect of watching too many of them reveal their inner boorishness after a few tankards of ale. Thinking this caused him a quick smile. Tamin loved his older sister, and he enjoyed her keen observations of the patrons of the Rum Passage. Still, he would not miss the additional chore of escorting her home every night at two in the morning. Maybe in Kaladar he could get more than four hours of sleep at a time.

All these thoughts passed in quick reverie for Tamin as the new day lit the trees in a multicolored cascade down the hill below him. From this height, he could see the mill down on the river, the small woods beyond, and on the rise behind them, the town of Shelby Run itself. Looking out over this vista, Tamin thought of how it was his favorite sight in all the world. He loved Shelby Run, loved everything about it: it was a comfortable size, he knew at least half the population by name, and it had the familiar attachment of being where he had grown up. It was home, and he knew he was going to miss it greatly. This was why he sighed, and this was why he was in a tree at daybreak. It was the only way he could think of to say goodbye to his hometown.

Tamin-n-n! Taamin-n! His mother’s call breaking his reverie, Tamin took a last look at Shelby Run as it sparkled in the morning sunlight, and then he quickly climbed down. He was expected at breakfast before his family’s small caravan began its journey down the road, and he hastened down the hillside. He would hate to miss breakfast, but most of all, he did not want to miss saying farewell to everybody. Tamin was not going to leave with them, as he would be traveling separately, leaving the next day. With the family moving in a heavy-horse drawn wagon, and with their neighbors doing so, also, Tamin felt he would have little difficulty catching up to the group within a short period of time.

It was something he had volunteered to do when his father mentioned that the new owners wanted to make a final inspection before officially accepting the keys. It seemed rather silly, Tamin thought. After all, the money had already been paid, and the exchange had been officially recorded. Even so, the new owners had insisted on the traditional walk-through, and if someone did not stay behind, it would force the family into a late start or even into the ignominy of having to camp the night by their (now) former property. Since the group needed Edron to lead the way, it was reasonable for Tamin to be the one to stay.

As he walked into the mill’s courtyard, Tamin saw the bodyguards his father had hired for the journey. Standing over six feet tall with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and body toughened by years of millwork, Tamin was no weakling. Nevertheless, he felt puny next to these men. Each of them stood several inches taller than Tamin, they were heavily muscled, and they had a hard, no-nonsense look about them. It was said that they had fought in frontier areas against exotic forces. Some even said that the two of them had defeated an entire squad of Goblins. Tamin had never actually seen a Goblin, but he supposed that if two men could take them on, it would be these two brothers, Zeke and Rolf Bonecutter. Even their name made him shiver a little, which he did as he quickly crossed the yard and entered the kitchen.

Inside, it was warm and cozy with residual heat from the last cooking fire, now banked. Ninette had been up even longer than Tamin. Not only had she cooked a hearty breakfast for her own family, but also, she had made enough to feed the two neighbor families who were joining the caravan. All of the cooking implements had already been cleaned and packed, as would the platters and serving dishes at the meal’s end. Ninette was determined that she would not cause a late start for today’s part of the journey. Tamin noted all this at a glance, and although everyone had begun eating, he knew he was essentially on time because the food was still piping hot. There were quick greetings as he took his seat and began to eat. Edron looked at him and asked,

Well, Tamin, what do you think? Did I hire the right kind of guards for an escort?

I guess so, answered Tamin. I know I wouldn’t want to cross them, but what about their reputation for starting fights?

Oh, that’s just big talk around town, said Sherrill. I’ve seen them fairly often in the tavern, and for the most part, they mind their own business. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever saw them start a fight at the Rum Passage.

Wait a minute, said Tamin between mouthfuls. "Didn’t the Bonecutters clear the tavern one night a week or so ago?

Oh, yes, Sherrill replied, but they didn’t start the brawl. I said they never started a fight, but they sure know how to finish one!

A principal endorsement that led me to hire them, responded Edron with a smile. Everyone chuckled a little before he continued, Tamin, are we clear on our plan?

Yes, sir, Tamin answered. The property agents are due here no later than Noon today, and it is expected that they will take one or two hours for their inspection. If requested, I will demonstrate that the mill’s machinery is in top operating condition. I will answer all questions simply and directly, but I will not surrender the keys until they sign off on the Inspection Certificate.

Exactly and perfectly succinct, beamed Edron. And you know our planned route to Kaladar?

By way of the old Alasac Road. If I have not caught up to the caravan by tomorrow evening, you will wait for me on this side of the Selry Bog.

Yes.

I hope you didn’t pack all your warm clothing? It can be chilly at night this time of year, especially in the countryside, worried Ninette.

No, Mother, Tamin said, looking up from his plate. I saved a warm pullover, and a slicker, too, in case it rains. They’re packed in my bedroll.

Well, all right, Ninette answered. I still worry about you traveling alone. You won’t try moving after dark, will you?

Now, dear, Edron said soothingly, Tamin is a strong, resourceful young man. He’s smart and strong as a bull! Why, no one short of the Bonecutters would think of provoking him, and they’re on our side."

If you say so. Still, a mother worries..

I understand, but Tamin isn’t about to take chances, are you? Tamin shook his head. He’ll be fine.

Tamin appreciated the vote of confidence from his father, not just now, but by the trust he gave in allowing Tamin the responsibility of closing the mill on behalf of the family. Despite what Tamin thought of it, the matter was important, and he was proud to represent them all. Briefly, Tamin thought of how good it would be once they were all sharing their new adventure. Contrary to his mother’s wishes, he had every intention of hiking through the night, if need be. Of course, he should be able to leave no later than early afternoon, and with a little luck, he could catch up to the caravan around sunset.

Breakfast was soon finished, and while the women handled the final packing, the men went to the courtyard for one last equipment check. Each of the families, Dacrees, Brungards, and Dumonts, was taking one large horse-drawn wagon. Edron had saved his two best draft horses for the journey, and Tamin was helping inspect them for soundness:

Pete looks fit and ready, Father, he said, looking at Edron across the horses’ backs.

What about Jack? Are you sure his foot healed after that stone bruise a while back? asked Edron.

Yes, sir, I trotted him on it yesterday, and he looked fine, answered Tamin.

Good. Just making sure, Edron muttered as he checked the harnesses, reins, wagon wheels, etc. For the fourth time. It’s not a long journey, but Jack and Pete will be pulling some good weight up and down hills. It wouldn’t do to work one of them hurt.

Tamin knew his father was being thorough, and he also thought he might just be stalling a little. After all, the horses were the same age, both were young and strong, and they were each accustomed to pulling much heavier weight than this wagon. Before the women came outside, Tamin’s suspicion was confirmed when his father took him aside.

Tamin, I didn’t want to alarm the women, so I am taking a moment for a private thought just between us. Please use caution during your hike to catch up. Sometimes a solitary traveler can become a target. Edron advised in a quiet voice.

Tamin answered just as quietly, Yes, sir, but I’m not too worried. None of the countryside between here and Kaladar is wilderness, and I know the road well. I don’t think anything will bother me, even in the bog area.

You are probably right, son, but I am not worried about wild animals. These are desperate times, and there may be two-legged predators lurking in the shadows.

Bandits? Is that why you hired the Bonecutters? asked Tamin.

Edron nodded, Probably an empty concern, but the fact that we sold the mill, and that we are moving to Kaladar is common knowledge. Three families with three slow-moving wagons could make for a tempting target for a starving man or two.

Then it’s reassuring to have an escort, said Tamin.

And prudent, responded Edron. Before I leave, I want you to accept these two things. It will reassure me to know that you have them. The sword in this old green scabbard is a family heirloom. It is as bright and sharp as the day it was forged many generations ago. Take it, and carry it with you on this trip. For a little added protection, I want you to carry the Penticon, as well."

The family talisman? asked a surprised Tamin.

Wear it around your neck, under your clothing. It is not decoration, and it is not to be displayed, but it should definitely give you extra protection.

Thank you, Father, I… stammered Tamin.

Smiling Edron gave him a tap on his shoulder, and they shared a quick embrace. Tamin strapped the sword on his back, and as instructed, he hung the talisman around his neck.

As Ninette stepped outside, she had a brief view of father and son standing next to each other. She thought of how very alike they were with Tamin looking like a young copy of Edron. Except for the gray on his temples and the mature size of his limbs, Edron could easily pass for Tamin’s brother. She felt a warm glow at seeing them so close, and suddenly she shuddered, as if a shadow had crossed her heart. It was a totally unexpected moment of apprehension, and dismissing it as travel jitters, she picked up the rucksacks with the dishes and walked toward the wagon. Quickly, Tamin and Edron intercepted her and loaded the bags for her.

Then, all were embracing Tamin in farewell and making the small talk that families do when departing. He and his father helped Ninette and Sherrill climb up to the wagon seat, and Edron perched there with reins in hand. Tamin marveled at how beautiful his mother and sister looked sitting next to his father. He smiled and waved as the wagon and its companions pulled out of the courtyard under the clear, bright sun of morning. At that time, there was no way for him to know that he would never talk to them again.

Tamin was beyond fidgeting; he was agitated and openly fuming. When the caravan left in the early morning, he had hoped to join the trail only a short time afterward. But it was not to be. Midmorning arrived and passed with no sign of the closing agents. Likewise, lunch hour had come and gone, and still, Tamin was alone with the mill. Twice, he had climbed to the building’s highest point to watch for anyone approaching, but no one was in sight. To keep himself occupied, he did a complete walk-through of the property, and he checked and rechecked everything five times over. He was bored, angry, and restless. All he wanted to do was to finish this task and to hit the road. In fact, he was so keyed for this that he could not just sit and wait, or nap, or relax himself.

Finally, at nearly two-thirty in the afternoon, he saw two men approaching from the direction of Shelby Run. As they drew nearer, Tamin recognized them, and he groaned out loud. It was the Flemings, Artis and Morris, the two biggest dilettantes around. Of all the people in the area to be the Closers, there could not have been a worse choice than these two. Tamin knew that his hopes of leaving soon were now gone, as well as his idea of catching up to the caravan before tomorrow. The Flemings were infamous for turning simple situations into complicated messes, and Tamin doubted that they would have the good grace to just take the keys to the mill and to let him be on his way.

In a few minutes, Tamin’s fears were confirmed. As he began the inspection tour, not only did the Flemings insist that he demonstrate each piece of machinery, but they also demanded that he disassemble them. Their reasoning for this seemed convoluted to Tamin, and he suspected that they just wanted to force him into pointless work. Of course, the Flemings refused to continue the inspection until Tamin reassembled the machine in question at any point, and then demonstrated that the device was once again in working order. Tamin felt some relief that there was not all that much machinery in a flour mill, but it still took some time to work through what there was.

Finally, the Flemings asked Tamin if he could remove the main drive axle from the mill’s three stories’ high-water wheel. That was it! Tamin walked within a couple inches of both brothers, and he grabbed each of them by a shoulder in a vise-like grip. With his face red and taut, his pupils very small, and the chords in his neck bulging, Tamin growled through clenched teeth,

Artis, Morris, I do believe we have inspected this property like none other has EVER been inspected in the entire history of Dalagar! Now, I have answered all your questions and demonstrated everything most thoroughly, so that there should be no doubt in the minds of the new owners. It is time to finish this, and it is time for me to go. Do you intend to prevent my departure, or may I hand you these keys instead of placing them in a handy orifice?!

Realizing that they had extended their nonsense well beyond reasonable limits, the brothers blanched, and they began to speak at once,

Did not mean to imply…

A wonderful tour, of course…

My, the hour is advancing into evening, is it not? opined Artis.

Oh, yes, yes. Let us quickly conclude our business here, said Morris. In a flourish, he produced pen and ink, and in quick succession, he and Artis each signed the Inspection Certificate. For his part, Tamin dropped the keys at their feet, he grabbed the document, and with one fluid motion he shouldered his pack. His exit from the building happened so quickly the Flemings did not have the chance to say another word, which was just as well because it kept Tamin from wringing their necks.

In the heat of his rage, Tamin hiked quickly up the hill and into town. He did not look back for a last sight of the mill, and in his current mood, he did not care if he ever saw it again. Before he knew it, he had passed through Shelby Run, not caring if he ever saw the town again, either. As he walked along, the thought struck him that perhaps those overdressed fops, the Flemings, had done him a favor. Their pretentious idiocy had put him in a state of mind that made it easy to forget any sentimentality about leaving home. He snorted at the idea, and as he walked along, he fantasized about how he could properly ‘thank’ the brothers. Of the different scenarios he imagined, his favorite was becoming rich and then hiring mercenaries to take the brothers Fleming to someplace like the Bicklewurt Wilderness, where they could be left to fend for themselves. Oh, how he would love to see their faces then! Of course, the stunned look on their faces was not too bad when he left the mill, and that would do for now.

Tamin chuckled to himself, and he could feel his anger easing. He realized that he had slipped into a longer, relaxed stride, one that would help him cover some distance this evening. Morris had been correct about it being late. Not only was it evening, but it was also dark and much later than Tamin’s hoped-for departure. He was a little relieved that he knew this road well, having traveled it several times to Lake Alasac. It also helped to have a bright moon overhead, so the way ahead was adequately illuminated. Although the inspection fiasco had prevented him from having his evening meal, he decided he would push on for another hour or two before stopping. He really wanted to cover some ground first, and if hunger began to gnaw at him, he could chew on some hardtack as he walked.

Besides, the countryside here was a beautiful blend of farm fields and strands of old forest, all silvered in the moonlight. The cricket chorus was in full throat, accompanied now and then by birdsong of some of the night flyers. The air was warm and rich with the scent of autumn fruits, late harvest hay, and the musty smell of old trees. Tamin breathed deep, thoroughly enjoying the bouquet and the symphony of the night around him. He wondered how much of this would be lost in a big, busy place like Kaladar. He had been there on several visits, but only once after dark. That had been when he was small, and the images were a little fuzzy, however. He decided it might just be a good exercise to work at the memory as he hiked along.

The first thing he remembered was waves lapping quietly at the shore of the lake, and the creak of ropes and boats tied to the pier. This was only a small strip of the city, the part immediately on the lake. He supposed that crickets sang there, too, but his memory was not detailed enough to know that for certain. Concentrating some more, he remembered walking past large buildings with large openings lit by roaring, sparking fires. Thinking about the image, he thought these must have been foundries, some of the best in the Dawnland. Then there had been smaller buildings that were still large enough to hold crowds of people. These were usually well-lit and noisy with music and singing—taverns. He could also remember some sort of area where there were hundreds of homes, most of them surrounded by trees. That meant birds, naturally, so it seemed that he had managed a roundabout way of answering his own question.

Smiling in his reverie, he was nearing a wooded curve in the road when suddenly a group of horsemen came careening from behind the trees at a full gallop. They were barely in control of their mounts, and Tamin was forced to jump into a nearby ditch to avoid being trampled. The riders immediately reined in their horses and wheeled them around, stopping just a few yards away. Quickly, Tamin thought of his father’s warning about desperate men, and he watched warily as the four dismounted and walked toward him. It quickly became evident from their unsteady gait that this group had been imbibing, and Tamin’s apprehension faded a bit. One of the young men approached Tamin closely and addressed him in drunken challenge.

Wal, waddya doin’ out here, huh? Walkin’ in the dark ‘n stuff, huh?

Tamin stood his ground and leveled a steady gaze at his alcohol-fueled inquisitor. After the day he had just endured, he was not about to succumb to this nonsense.

Scared the horses, huh? the drunk continued, weaving a little as he stood there. Yer walkin’ okay, so how’s about you run, ha? C’mon, les’ see ya’ run. When I count three, how ‘bout you clear those bushes over there, ha?!

Still, Tamin stood and stared. The lout continued with his idea,

O, okay. One, two-o-o, three! Uh, hey, ya’ arent runnining or nothin’… Aren’t ya’ gonna’ run? He paused, and then he gave what approximated a good-natured chuckle, Aw-w, man, I was jes funnin’ ya; okay? Ha, jes a lil’ joke, hey! Wait a minnit, ain’t you Sherrill Dacree’s brother? Yeh, I seen you work for the sterimnator guy—uh, Thomas, Thurman, uh…

Tamin.

Yeh, right. Hey, fellas! This here’s Sherrill Dacree’s brother. You ‘member Sherril from the Rum Passage?"

At that the other three wobbled over to say hi to Tamin, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder like an old comrade. They talked briefly, and they quickly confessed that they had stopped because they feared their drunken sprint around the curve had clipped Tamin with their horses. They had seen him go into the ditch, and they had worried that they had hurt someone. After assuring them he was fine, Tamin then had to dissuade them from the idea of giving him a ride back to town. When he made it clear he was going to Kaladar, his new friends took a while to wish him well, and finally, they clattered off in the direction of town.

Musing that the incident was one more thing he would not miss around here, Tamin decided to act on the idea of running for a while, and he began to jog up the road. He did not know if he could keep this up for very long, but maybe he could cover a few miles before stopping. Reflecting on the drunks, Tamin smiled briefly, and then his humor soured. For some reason, he was suddenly concerned about the caravan. What if bandits came at them in force in a sudden, unexpected way in the manner of the inebriated horsemen, but with actual deadly intent? Guards or no guards, a sudden attack could have serious consequences. His supper forgotten, he broke into more of a swinging run, one he intended to maintain throughout the night. He knew it was not rational, but suddenly, Tamin wanted to be with his family. Without any logical reason, he knew with certainty that he had to catch up with them before they reached the area of the Selry Bog.

Edron didn’t like it at all. The unusual storm had been chasing them all day. It just kept building darker and darker clouds, and even though the caravan was headed to the Southwest, the storm appeared to be coming from the north. Not very many came from that direction, and the ones that did were usually big trouble. After a quick conference at midafternoon, the travelers had all agreed to pick up the pace in order to clear this stretch of open country. The next shelter would be the old forest on an edge of Selry Bog. There were enough tall trees there to offer protection, certainly from lightning, but especially from hail. This Edron worried about most because of the potential for harm to the animals.

As the procession topped a rise, they could see the distinctive features of the boglands lying in an immense sunken fold of the land at about four miles off. Suddenly, thunder cracked like the scream of doom, and all the horses jigged in their traces. A wind as cold as ice began to blow, and Edron knew they would have to run for it. Telling Ninette and Sherrill to stay under cover in the wagon, He put Jack and Pete into as much of a controlled run as he dared, and the other wagons followed his lead. The Guards raced ahead on their single mounts, scouting at speed for any hazards in the road. Quickly, the group began to cover the distance, aided by the fact that they were headed downhill. The wind was now strong enough that it was bending trees, some of them almost sideways. They felt the first of the rain, huge, widely spaced drops that hit with a wet ‘plop!’ It was a sure sign of hail and heavier rain to come. Of this, Edron was certain.

Looking ahead, he became anxious about their chances. If they could reach the old forest, they would find shelter from the elements, but they also needed elevation, the trees being located on ground higher than any around it. First, however, they must cross a draw that formed a low spot at the bottom of the hill. Edron was pushing the horses as much as he dared on a road quickly becoming slick with rain. He could not risk breaking a wheel or overturning. But the race had now become uneven with the rain coming down in sheets before they reached the draw. By the time they sought to drive through it, it already held several inches of water. They were forced to slow to a careful pace to ford the forming stream, and by now, the rain was so heavy, it was like the air was made of water. As they began up the other side of the depression, the horses’ feet began slipping on wet clay. Adding to the misery were icy pellets of sleet, a signal that hail might begin momentarily.

Now, there was a growing rumble that set Edron’s teeth on edge, an ominous sound that he knew to be deadly. It was the sound of water racing down from the higher ground around them, the unmistakable signature of a flash flood, The Bonecutters recognized the danger as well, and they each grabbed the wagon traces of those behind Edron. All the horses were slipping and sliding in scrambling progress uphill toward safety. By now, the rumble had become a roar, drowning out the sound of the curtains of hail that were pelting everything. Just as it seemed they would all be claimed by the approaching torrent, the horses gained purchase, and they were over the hill’s rim and into the forest. One by one, the wagons pulled under the trees, and Edron looked back at the draw in time to see a wall of water half-a-mile wide sweeping by, obliterating everything in its path.

Grateful for their escape, they moved further into the shelter of the old oaks, maples, and alders, some one hundred, even two hundred feet high. Here they would ride out the storm and then pitch camp to wait for Tamin. Edron prayed mightily that his son was on the other side of this storm, and he thanked the Spirits for a close deliverance of the caravan. It was then that the storm suddenly stopped, and the silence throughout the forest became profound. There were no animal noises, no birdsong, not even the soft soughing of the wind through the trees. It was eerie, as if the storm had become suspended, like it was holding its breath.

Walking into a clearing, Edron looked up past the trees. In towering black walls, storm clouds roiled in a circle around the forest, as if the storm was waiting, deliberately holding off on its final fury. Edron realized that Ninette and Sherrill were standing next to him with the Dumonts, Brungards and Bonecutters gathered nearby. All were staring up in expressions mixed with wonder, awe, and more than a little confusion. With a sudden premonition, Edron broke the stillness by yelling as forcefully as possible,

Everyone under shelter, NOW! Grabbing Ninette and Sherrill each by their wrist, he ran with them as fast as possible back under the trees. The others followed his lead, and they had barely left the clearing when a swirling, smoky finger dropped from the sky. Edron had heard of such things, evil, ropy clouds made of wind, very powerful storm winds. To his surprise, there was no blast or hammering wind, but there were things emerging from the cloud. Things of horror, things of nightmares; they were unspeakable monsters, and they were heading directly to the huddled caravan. Nearby, he could see a dull gray distortion in the air. It made him think of foul, odious mages. Drawing his sword, he knew his gratitude for deliverance had been premature.

Tamin covered a lot of ground that first night by running until the eastern sky began to lighten. By then, he was feeling a little fatigued, so he found a wooded area by a small stream where he could rest for a while. When he stopped, he realized that he was ravenous, and in short order, he finished last night’s dinner as well as this morning’s breakfast. Happily, he was able to supplement the bread and jerky with apples that he found on a nearby tree, and after a long drink from the clear water of the stream, he felt satisfied. By running through the night, he had covered many miles, and he knew he had gained substantially on the caravan. The cost of this exertion, however, was irresistible drowsiness, and he knew he would have to nap briefly.

With a wrenching start, Tamin woke to the sound of his mother’s terrified screams. His heart pounding, he jumped into a crouch, sword in hand, but there was no one attacking, nor was there anyone nearby. Confused, he shook his head to clear his thoughts, and bending to the little stream, he splashed cold water in his face. It was peaceful under the little stand of trees with the crickets and other bugs singing a daytime medley. Birds flitted here and there, some landing in the branches above him while others soared off in the bright sunshine. It appeared to be midmorning, which meant he had slept longer than he had intended. And the scream that woke him… Now that he was awake, he was not sure what that had been, but whatever it was, it gave him a sense of urgency. He knew he needed to get moving.

As he began hiking up the road, he decided to adopt his long-stride style of walking rather than running. He felt that this approach would have the advantage of covering ground quickly without wearing him out so much. Besides, he was a little stiff from his all-night run, and he needed to loosen up. Best to ease into it, as it was still an all-day trek to the Selry Bog. At least the day was fair and sunny but not hot, a hallmark of weather this time of year. This improved his mood as he walked, and he was on the verge of singing a ditty in rhythm with his stride when he emerged from some trees atop a small hill. Instantly, his mood was suspended, and the song never got started.

Off in the distance, but in his line of travel, there was a huge storm building, Dark, bulging clouds fed upward to titanic, bunched shapes that puffed and grew under a nearly black anvil of vapor, towering several miles above the ground. Lightning flashed in the upper reaches of the weather behemoth, and Tamin noted that the storm appeared to be tracking southwest. This was so unusual that it struck him instantly as a thing of evil, and he thought again of how he had awakened. Bad dream, presentiment, or prophecy, he could not tell what it had been, but he felt certain that there was a connection now. Of course, it did not take a seer to realize that the storm ahead was deadly, and it looked to be near where he estimated the caravan should be. It was then that he felt the warmth on his chest, and he pulled out the talisman his father had given him. To his surprise, it was glowing with a soft purple color, and it was warm to the touch. His father had told him it would protect him, which meant it was no longer protecting his father . . . or his family!

Suddenly filled with foreboding, Tamin forgot about walking, and he took off in a dogtrot down the road. He knew he was headed straight at the storm, and he also knew it would have passed probably by the time he caught up to his family. Still, he had to try to reach them, and he began praying to the Spirits that he could get there in time. For what, he was not sure, but he felt pushed by a gnawing feeling of dread. He was certain that a family talisman didn’t glow just because of a storm, even a storm that was acting as if it was alive and somehow possessed. Looking ahead, he lengthened his stride.

He ran steadily for two hours, and it was clear that he was gaining. At this rate, he should reach the boglands no later than midafternoon, and he might be under the storm before that. If that should happen, he might be forced to seek shelter, but for now, he tried to relax into the rhythm of his run. No longer stiff, his movements were fluid and were becoming rather mechanical by their repetition. It helped that he was now under the outer shadow of the storm where the air was cooler, and he was out of the direct heat of the sun. The talisman was still warm on his chest, and when he looked, it was still glowing a soft purple. Why he kept checking it, he wasn’t sure; he certainly didn’t know what it all meant.

Of course, Tamin was not practiced at running distances, nor doing so in the heat of the day. As he began to check his momentum on a downhill slope, his right leg suddenly cramped, his calf muscle tightening into a painful knot. He nearly fell before hobbling to a stop, and grimacing, he sat on some nearby rocks. As thunder rumbled in the distance, he cursed his luck, and he massaged his leg while working his foot back and forth. So close! He was getting so close, and now this! If only he had been able to leave earlier, he could have long since been with the caravan. Irrationally, he thought again of the Flemings, this time imagining them roasting slowly on a spit. Gradually, he worked the cramp out, and he was able to put his weight on his right leg. A few experimental steps, however, made it clear that he would have to walk now, and even so, he would have to ease into it.

Midafternoon was past, and the best he could do was an even walking cadence. Once or twice Tamin had tried to go into long-stride, but the quick twitching of his leg had served as ready warning each time, so he had settled for the lesser pace. Slowly, he crested a hill, and there he paused to evaluate what he saw ahead. On the near horizon, there were some clouds, but nothing further; no storm nor threat of one. A few miles distant was a hill with an old forest and dropping from its far edge was the distinctive gash of the boglands. In between him and the forest, there appeared to be an odd smear on the landscape, but from here he was not sure what it was.

He felt relief at seeing the old forest because it was where his father planned to stop for the night. Tamin knew the caravan would be there, and finally, he could rejoin them, a thought giving him hope that maybe things were going to be all right, after all. The talisman had quit its warming and glowing about an hour ago, and the storm was gone, so, yes, things must be okay now. Yet, at his core, Tamin did not believe any of this, for deep in his heart, he was scared and worried. Feeling it had been a tough pair of days, he was determined to catch up and to be reassured by seeing everyone, so he resumed his hike.

Initially, he was glad to see that most of the way forward would be downhill, and then he remembered the cramping that had happened. That had been going downhill, too. Cautiously, he paced down the road, and when the slope proved to be gentle and gradual, he increased his stride. To keep his rhythm, he began singing the forgotten ditty from earlier in the day, some nonsense song about horses, sheep, and goats. He was not sure what the song meant, but it kept him constructively occupied as he worked his way down the trail. Then, he began to take notice of all the storm-wrack, the damage, and the debris. The closer he got to Selry Bog, the more destruction there was: Leaves and tree limbs littered the area, with some trees broken or downed altogether. There were deep grooves in the packed surface of the road, new carvings made by raging water, and everywhere there were large pockets of hail. In fact, there was so much fallen ice that the air was chilled even in the afternoon sun. Tamin found himself donning his pullover because of it.

By now, he was close enough to the strange smear on the landscape so that he could make out detail. It appeared to be a low draw that had become nearly filled with mud, rocks, bushes, and trees. As he approached the side of it, Tamin’s heart sank. It was obvious that a sudden flood had swept through here, carrying half the hillside with it. When he looked along its course, he could see that the layer of debris continued for another mile to the end of the draw. There, it fanned out and disappeared into a stretch of the bogland. If the caravan had been going through here, they would not have stood a chance! More than ever, Tamin wanted to get up the last hill to the forest. He needed to get there, and right away.

His first step onto the debris field changed his thinking when his leg sank into mud up to his knee. Quickly, he stepped back onto the road, and he took a closer look at what lay before him. The debris was smooth, but obviously, it was not firm everywhere. Using a stick as a probe, he began poking at the flood-scape before him. Unfortunately, the results were uniformly the same as the stick sank deeply into any section he tested. It could take days to dry out, he thought frantically, and he was not sure what to do. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he sat on a big rock, and he tried to think. Climbing the hill might help, but the debris field further up might be just as bad. Downhill had more debris and it led to the bogs, so trying to cross that way was definitely out.

He was sitting here, perched on a rock and stuck only fifty yards from the other side of the draw. Wait a minute, that’s it! he realized. Scattered across the dirt were several rocks, most of them as large as the one he was sitting on, some even larger, almost the size of boulders. A plan began to form, and Tamin stood on top of the rock to get a good vantage point. Yes, he thought, it just might work. Without hesitation, he moved a few steps to his left, and he jumped a short distance to a large stone out in the debris stream. He repeated this, jumping from rock to rock in a zig-zag course across the draw. His plan was working, and even his right leg cooperated by not cramping up on him. In under a minute, he was on the road on the far side of all the mud.

Restraining an impulse to celebrate his small triumph, Tamin hurried uphill toward the giant old trees. Just as he neared them, however, he heard a scream of pain off to his left. He searched along the edge of the forest for nearly a quarter mile when he heard the scream again. It was louder now and much closer, but somewhat downhill. That meant that it was coming from the bog, and old stories about bog-cats flashed through his mind. His hesitation was only momentary as this sound was different from that of cat. Scrambling down the bank, he came to the edge of Selry Bog, and he found the source: It was Pete, one of his family’ draft horses, and Pete was stuck in the bog.

Immediately, Tamin became alarmed. Not only was this unexpected, but it was also something that should not have happened at all. The horse should be in camp, and if he had somehow wandered away, why couldn’t Tamin hear anyone searching? Then he noticed something else that was odd: Pete was still in harness, and he appeared to be dragging torn rigging and traces. Tamin’s heart dropped into his stomach, and only Pete’s piteous cries kept him moving forward.

Looking things over, Tamin was relieved to see that only the horse’s hindquarters were in the bog. As a horse gets most of its power from the drive of its hind legs, this was serious, of course, and it accounted for Pete’s rear legs being mired in mud up to his hocks. Most likely, the big horse’s efforts to free himself had churned him deeper into the muck. But it was not hopeless, and Tamin thought of a plan right away. First, he approached Pete, speaking his name soothingly,

Ho, Pete. Ho, big guy. That’s it, Pete, while he stroked the horse’s muzzle for a while to calm him. He noticed that the wagon’s long reins were still attached, and when Pete was looking less terrified, Tamin untied them. He took them apart, reattaching them end-to-end to make a longer strand. This he worked through the headband of the harness, and he made a loop underneath. He now had a twenty-foot line that he ran completely around a small, nearby tree. This left just enough line to wrap around his own waist and up over his shoulder, thus fashioning a tow line.

Tamin encouraged Pete to move forward while Tamin pulled the line against the tree. At first, there was great resistance, and he worried that the line might snap under the strain, but the reins were seasoned leather, and they held. Incrementally, Tamin edged ahead, all the time yelling, Ya, Pete! Ya!, and gradually Pete began to clear the muck. Tamin pulled with all his might, and just when it seemed that his leg was in danger of cramping, as well as all the rest of his muscles, Pete’s rear feet found firm footing. In one final lurch, the great horse was free, and he stood heaving for breath near the trees. He nickered as Tamin approached, and then he shook himself, splattering mud everywhere with a good deal of it landing on Tamin.

You’re welcome, Pete, Tamin smiled.

Quickly reworking the reins, Tamin led Pete up into the forest which seemed to be oddly still. Tamin supposed that all the woodland creatures were still hunkered down from the storm. Perhaps that was why no one was looking for Pete yet, he told himself. Maybe the people had been hunkered down, and maybe just now they were getting reorganized. From the broken appearance of the forest , the storm had blasted through here with full force, as shown by fallen giant trees that forced him and Pete to take a meandering course through the foliage. Finally, there were fewer trees and a clearing ahead. It was then that Tamin saw his father sitting on the ground, his back against a tree. From his angle of approach, Tamin was slightly behind Edron, and he thought to surprise him.

Putting himself and Pete into a trot, he ran over to Edron, saying,

Hey, Dad, hey you guys! Look who I found just standing around… The words died on his lips, as Tamin came to a stop in front of his father. Edron was seated at the base of a giant oak, his eyes unseeing, his lifeless hands still clutching his sword that was stained crimson with blood. Tamin could not believe it. What had happened? Where were the Guards? This could not be real! Gently, he put a hand on his father’s shoulder and shook it, as if to rouse him from sleep,

"Dad. Dad. Dad!’ he called with increasing volume, but Edron did not answer. Tamin took a few steps backward, and he looked off to the side. It was then that he saw Ninette and Sherrill, both holding each other, each of them also holding a bloody sword. His heart in his throat, Tamin walked over to them, and he found that both were dead, as well. Tears came then, his spirit deep within him, feeling suddenly torn and mutilated. Here was the nightmare come true, visions of the pit laid here at his feet. In an animal snarl of pain and rage, he threw back his head and let forth an inhuman howl, a screaming that filled the forest with the voice of his anguish.

He screamed until he was hoarse. Then he stomped and kicked things and threw other things. It was then that he saw the rest of the clearing, a peaceful meadow now transformed into a scene of utter destruction. The wagons were all burned with only the front of one intact. The animals were all dead, looking as if they had been slaughtered while still hooked to the wagons. This was how he found the family’s other horse, Jack, still tied to the Dacree wagon. Something had nearly torn his head off; a large draft horse, but somehow savagely killed. And the people! His family was the only recognizable bodies, the others having been torn limb-from-limb. The Dumonts, the Brungards, even the Bonecutters. Tamin stumbled around the clearing, looking and checking, but there was no one left alive. The clearing was now a charnel house. It was then that Tamin vomited, and he kept vomiting until he passed out.

Eventually, he regained consciousness, and when he dared to look around, he was still in disbelief. So much blood everywhere, much more than he could have imagined, which raised a question for him. Who did this, and where were they? Some of the blood had to be theirs, and from the way the ground was trampled, there must have been a great number, especially to overwhelm strong men like his father and the Bonecutters. A chill ran through him when he wondered if the attackers might yet be nearby. Drawing the sword from his back, he cautiously probed the perimeter of the clearing, but the only living thing he saw was Pete grazing off to the side. On a hunch, he checked the talisman, but it was inert and inactive. It looked to him as if whoever did this had left some time ago. His guess about this was correct. However, he did not notice the dull gray distortion in the air high above the trees.

Sighing, he put his sword away, and he sat down on a stump. He realized he had some decisions to make, beginning with his family. Sadly, he looked at them across the way, and tears flowed again. What was he to do? He tried thinking it through but concentrating right now was difficult. Maybe he could load the bodies of his family on the half-wagon that remained. He could hitch Pete to it, and then take everybody to Kaladar, to his Uncle Nebo. Nebo would know the people to arrange a proper burial. Then again, the half-wagon did not look big enough, and he hated the thought of piling his family up like bags of flour. Also, there was only a scrap of canvas left, and it was not large enough to cover everybody. Last of all, it might take two or so days to reach the city. The time factor raised problems of its own.

With a sinking heart, Tamin realized he would have to take care of things here, and the sooner the better. Searching through the ashes of the wagons, he could find no useful tools. What shovels there were had burned and melted, as well as most of