PURE OF HEART Read online

  “Dalvin said farewell again,” Han reported as he approached, smiling. “He’s getting the men organized to search for more Krulgs while Navarro takes credit for everything.”

  “Are the Krulg reinforcements still camping in the valley?” Dean asked.

  “No.” Han smiled and danced a little gig. “They didn’t head back to Naviak either. They scattered.”

  Oieda laughed. “The cowards were too scared to come here and too afraid to go back to Volsur, so they ran!” She set her new spear on her back and grinned broadly.

  “That leaves even fewer troops in Naviak.” Dean looked north. “Did Dalvin say anything about Carimus?”

  Han frowned. “Carimus was still unconscious when we left. He might be out for days.”

  Dean had hoped that somehow Carimus could help them. Now time was running out, and there was no way of telling how long they’d have to wait for Carimus to awaken, let alone be strong enough to help.

  “Our horses are ready. They may not be the finest, but they’re the first ones they could get. It’s not far now.” Oieda’s last words seemed to strike Dean’s chest.

  As they rode out of the city, some of the men smiled and waved; some even cheered. The early morning fog clung to the ground and swirled around the horses’ hooves.

  The sun was barely visible through the overcast sky. Thick black clouds hung motionless in the air. Dean’s horse pranced and skittered, straying off the path, and he struggled to bring it under control.

  “I don’t like what is happening to the horses.” Oieda broke the silence.

  “What do you mean happening to them?” Han moved closer to Oieda and turned a worried eye to their mounts.

  “This change in their mood. None speak to me now, but they whisper among themselves.”

  “What do they say?” Han now regarded the horses suspiciously.

  “I only catch parts, but what I hear is not good. We should watch them. They want to run.”

  “As if we didn’t have enough to worry about,” Bravic grumbled, “now we have to guard our own mounts.”

  They traveled for three days before they finally left the mountain behind. The days were overcast, and the nights were without stars or moon because of the thick, black clouds constantly overhead. On the fourth day they came to the top of a large hill. The sun broke through the clouds, shining on a beautiful grove of golden trees in a clearing below. As they rode closer, they could make out old stone benches beneath the shade of the trees.

  “I say we take a break and have some lunch,” Han suggested.

  “And I agree with that.” Bravic grinned.

  “I agree also,” Oieda said.

  They galloped down and slid off their horses onto the thick, green grass.

  “Why are these benches here?” Dean looked suspiciously around.

  “For sitting for lunch.” Han grinned as he began to ready a cold lunch for everyone.

  “Or for napping,” Bravic added with a large yawn as he stretched out on a bench.

  “We’re just going to eat, then we’re getting out of here,” Dean said.

  They ate a small meal and talked. Their spirits were high with the sun shining down on them for the first time in weeks. Soon they were all stretched out on the benches and talking lazily as they stared at the blue sky. One by one, they fell asleep.

  Dean sat bolt upright as thunder ripped the sky open and gusts of wind spewed out. He jumped to his feet and gawked at the storm that raged overhead. He spun around. The other benches were empty.

  “Oieda? Bravic? Han?” He screamed to be heard over the howl of the wind but there was no reply. “Where are you guys?” he called as he ran forward.

  Suddenly, the wind stopped and the clearing became deathly quiet.

  “Crud,” Dean cursed under his breath as he drew his sword. “Something bad’s going to happen.”

  “Are you scared, warrior?” a voice sneered from behind him.

  Dean raised his sword as he spun around. Standing before him was a thin man dressed in black robes. His hair was the color of coal, and his face was thin and pale. His black eyes locked with Dean’s, and Dean felt as if an evil hand clutched at his heart.

  “So you’re the one my brother chose to defeat me.” The man’s mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile.

  “Volsur?” Dean cried in disbelief.

  “I hope he prepared you to die, fool,” Volsur growled as he walked forward.

  “Where are my friends?” Dean demanded, lowering his sword at Volsur’s chest.

  “They’re dead.” Volsur grinned.

  With a cry of rage Dean thrust forward with his sword, but Volsur vanished as the blade touched his chest.

  “Fool,” Volsur shrieked from behind him.

  Dean spun around. Volsur’s hand shot out and wrapped around Dean’s throat. With a snarl, Volsur lifted Dean into the air as his other hand clamped down on Dean’s sword arm.

  Volsur smiled. “You have failed.”

  Dean tried to struggle but couldn’t move. His lungs gasped for air, and his heart pounded in his ears.

  “Butterflies.” Dean heard someone call as if they were very far away. “Butterflies.” He could just make out the faint word.

  Dean’s body was racked with pain as Volsur’s hand squeezed tighter around his throat.

  “Butterflies.” He heard it again.

  Volsur vanished in a swirl of smoke. Suddenly Dean stood on his feet, and hundreds of colorful butterflies hovered all around him. The green grass was back, the sky was blue, and the sun was shining. A large butterfly brushed against his cheek, and he laughed.

  Oieda rushed up to him. She was wearing a light brown dress with white trim. Her green eyes sparkled as she took both his hands. Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  Butterflies circled around them. Oieda leaned in, and her head tilted back. Dean pulled her close. Her breath was warm on his lips, and her hair smelled of lily of the valley. They kissed. Her lips were smooth and soft. His heart raced. She smiled and a little dimple stood out on her cheek.

  “Butterflies.” He heard again.

  Dean’s eyes snapped opened. He was lying on his back and staring up at the gray sky. The trees above him were no longer the golden ones he fell asleep under but dead, twisted trees whose skeletal branches clutched at the sky. He sprang to his feet. Han, Oieda, and Bravic stared back at him, but they looked very pale. Dean quickly glanced down and realized he had not been lying on a bench; he had been lying on a grave.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Dean screamed, and all four turned and raced for their horses.

  They galloped far away from the graveyard.

  Once they were a good distance along, Dean turned. “What happened back there?”

  “Well,” Han began, “I fell asleep and began to have a very bad nightmare. It felt so real. Anyway, I don’t like nightmares, so I decided to think about something else. I thought about butterflies, and soon they were all around me. I tried to catch one, and I fell off the grave. That’s when I saw we had really come into a graveyard. All of you were yelling and kicking in your sleep. I started to shake you, but you wouldn’t wake up.”

  “Evil magic,” Oieda spat, her face still pale.

  “When I couldn’t wake you, I thought about how I woke up. So I thought if you thought about something nice, you’d dream about that and wake up.”

  “Butterflies,” Bravic grumbled. “You couldn’t have said girls?”

  Dean and Han laughed while Oieda rolled her eyes.

  They journeyed for the rest of the day and made camp very late that night, none too eager to sleep again. They tied the horses to the trunk of a large elm tree and fell slowly asleep with Bravic on watch. Looking to the horses, he wondered what they were thinking and murmuring to one another. Bravic woke Han after a few hours, and then he, too, lay down to stare into the woods.

  While Han took his watch, the shadows seemed to dance and swirl, and he jumped at every noise. His knuckles
turned white as he grasped his little bow in his hands, and his eyes burned as he stared from the horses to the woods and back again. After a loud noise in the forest, he looked back at the horses, who now stared at him through the darkness. Their eyes shone in the night. Suddenly, all five burst forward as one and snapped the straps that held them to the tree. Four ran straight into the woods, but one ran straight for Han. He drew back an arrow, but as the horse raced toward him, the arrow stayed in his hand. The horse reared up; its legs rose over Han, preparing to crash down on him.

  Oieda pulled him out of the way.

  They both crashed to the ground, and the horse galloped off after the others. Bravic and Dean sprang to their feet and raced into the woods after the fleeing mounts.

  “Thank you,” Han said with a frown. “The horse didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “Yes, he did.” Oieda got up. “He made a choice.”

  “But this dark . . . Volsur made him do it,” Han said.

  “No. There’s a dark pull on the spirit, but in the end, the choice is still yours.” Oieda stared back into Han’s eyes.

  Han nodded then looked into the woods, waiting for some sign of the others.

  After several minutes, Dean and Bravic came panting back into camp. “They got away,” Dean said.

  “Now what’re we going to do?” Han asked.

  “Walk,” Bravic grumbled, glaring at Han.

  “Do we have a choice?” Han yelled.

  “I didn’t let them go, so don’t yell at me. It was your watch,” Bravic snapped through clenched teeth.

  “Hey, knock it off,” Dean said. “It’s almost light. I don’t think any of us can sleep, so we can look for the horses, or we can move on.”

  “The horses are gone. They will go to the plain, and we will never catch them.” Oieda picked up her pack.

  “Then we go on foot,” Dean said as they started to gather what little they had.

  They walked down the darkened path in silence. The sounds of the woods seemed muffled by the darkness. As the sun rose behind the black clouds, it seemed trapped by the gloom. The new day came cold, damp, and absolutely still, as if even the wind had been ensnared.

  The trail leveled off, and they left the woods behind to march across rolling hills. Still, long, brown grass, like a sea before a storm, lay silent on both sides of the road. They walked all day, stopping little; all felt pressed to move on quickly.

  They camped between four elms, but none slept for a long time. When sleep did come, they tossed and turned and woke with a start, pouring with sweat and staring into the starless sky. In the middle of the night, Dean peered out into the blackness, his heart racing in his chest. Faint noises came from the shadows. His eyes scanned the woods for what was making the noises that seemed as faint as the sound of a branch blowing in the wind, but the night was still. Han sat straight up and screamed madly as his eyes flew open. An eerie silence swept down upon them, broken only by Han’s labored breathing.

  “Couldn’t sleep, either?” Dean whispered, moving closer to Han.

  “You don’t have to whisper.” Bravic turned over. “If I wasn’t already awake and staring like a cornered rabbit at the dark, that scream would have woken me up.”

  Oieda shivered. “I do not like the feel of the woods now.”

  “Can we get going early today?” Han nervously looked around, all sleep now gone from his eyes.

  “It’s the middle of the night. I don’t think we should trample around this pitch-black woods at midnight,” Dean said with a disappointed ring to his voice.

  Han’s head turned, and the others looked to where he now stared. They heard a sound, as if someone was laughing, but it was so soft they weren’t sure.

  “Midnight or not, I want to go.” Han backed away from the sound, and everyone silently agreed as they picked up their belongings and started off.

  They moved at a quick pace, looking over their shoulders as they walked. This new, unseen, unknown enemy seemed at their heels, snapping the branches of the forest. Han broke into a slow trot. The others followed. The noises around them slowly grew louder. Oieda jumped when she saw two eyes appear for a moment and vanish from a tree along the road.

  The woods abruptly ended, and they stood on an infrequently traveled path. They broke into a headlong run down the weed-covered trail. Sticks slashed their faces and roots grabbed their feet as they surged onward. The route sloped downward, and they slipped and tumbled, only to scramble to their feet and continue their headlong plunge. As they reached the bottom, they raced across the valley with perspiration pouring from their faces.

  Suddenly Oieda stopped and screamed, “Wait!” The others froze. All stood panting and stared at one another. “I know the beasts that chase us,” she gasped.

  “Beasts? You mean there are more than one?” Han cried with horror in his eyes.

  “They are Vereortu. They create fear and feed off it,” she said grimly.

  “Vereortu?” Dean said. “Those are the things Norouk ruled.”

  As Han turned to run, Bravic’s hand came down upon his shoulder. “We don’t know how many there are or if Norouk still rules them. It’s been many years since Norouk.” He tried to reassure the Elvana.

  “But Volsur was around then.” Han struggled against Bravic’s hold. “And Carimus. And Ranadin. They’re alive. Why wouldn’t Norouk be?”

  “Whether he is or isn’t,” Dean began, “we can’t run until we die of exhaustion.”

  “You want to stay here?” Han asked.

  “It’s almost morning. We’ve run half the night. We can’t run any farther. I say we stay and see.” Dean’s eyes searched the faces of the others.

  Oieda leaned close to Han and whispered something in his ear.

  “I’ll stay,” Han grumbled as he kicked a white stone at his feet.

  They tried to sit and rest, but quickly rose and paced, peering into the darkness. After another anxious hour, Dean took watch while the others tried to lie down and rest. As the night sky began to lighten, Oieda came over and sat down beside him.

  “Hey.” Dean smiled.

  “It is almost first light.” She looked to the east.

  “Thanks for calming Han down,” Dean said. She smiled. “What did you say to him?”

  She shrugged and shook her head, causing her ponytail to bounce back and forth. “Nothing.”

  Dean noticed her cheeks flushed. “What? Come on. I know you said something.”

  Oieda’s eyes danced, and she blushed more. “I told him he had to be brave so you would not get scared.”

  “Me?” Dean exhaled. “Yeah, I’m a big scaredy-cat.”

  “I was trying to make him feel better.” She grinned. “You are mostly brave.”

  Dean raised an eyebrow. “Mostly? I’ve never freaked out and got all girly scared.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Her smile vanished.

  “Sorry. It’s just an expression.” He held up a hand. “A bad expression. I meant I haven’t like . . . gone all screaming and throwing my hands in the air.”

  “What about with the skeletons?”

  “The first time I saw a dead guy go back together freaked me out. You get a point for that.”

  “The dragon?” Her dimple popped.

  “It was a huge stone dragon walking out of a wall. Everyone freaked out.”

  She leaned her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

  “Two points for you,” Dean muttered.

  “What about—?”

  “Enough.” Dean shook his head. “I get a little wigged out when something totally Twilight Zone wacky happens but other than that, I’m a rock.”

  “A rock?” She nodded her head, and her lips pressed together.

  “You’re smiling.” Dean leaned forward and looked at her mouth.

  “I am not.” She shook her head.

  “You are too! I can see it.”

  “I am not!” She rolled her eyes, and her dimple popped out again.
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  “You are too. Your dimple shows when you smile.”

  Her hand went to her face, and she looked away.

  “What did I say now?” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s cute.”

  Dean inhaled, and Oieda froze.

  “I mean . . . I think . . . I don’t freak out, okay?” Dean rubbed his forehead.

  A ray of sunlight swept down, streaked across the sand, and passed over them. Dean looked around the valley floor and felt as though someone had squeezed his heart and stopped it from beating. Mixed with the sand were thousands of bleached white human bones. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “So you admit you get this ‘freaked out’ way you speak of.” Oieda gazed over at the sunrise as she continued to tease him.

  Dean exhaled and tried to keep his voice steady. “I think I know what valley we’re in.”

  Oieda heard the change in his voice and turned to look at him.

  Han sat bolt upright. “We’re in Grenadil,” he screamed as he looked at the bones.

  Everyone jumped to their feet and drew their weapons. The sandy valley was surrounded by tall cliffs, and mixed in with the sand were bones, scattered everywhere.

  Han gasped.

  All around them dark shapes silhouetted in the faint light. The bent and twisted forms slowly scampered toward them. Hundreds of high cackling voices united into one twisted, evil laugh as they approached and jumped from side to side. From their midst a figure appeared, sunlight shimmering on his golden armor. The wicked beasts stopped their advance and quivered with excitement as the golden-armored man walked through their ranks and stopped a hundred feet from Dean.

  “Norouk,” Dean spat as his hand gripped his sword.

  “Welcome to the Valley of Death,” Norouk shouted as a curled grin crossed his gnarled face. “Four vagabonds. I wish you were more of a challenge for me. Be afraid. Before you stands the mighty Norouk!” He raised his sword.

  Dean noticed Oieda had moved to their packs. He didn’t know what she was doing, but he was sure she was up to something. “Mighty Norouk?” Dean scoffed. “Whenever I’ve heard the name Norouk, the word mighty was never before it. It was more like that traitor Norouk or that dog Norouk. Mostly it was that coward Norouk,” Dean called out loudly.