Bridge of Shadow

BRIDGE OF SHADOW

Raiders of the Dawn Book III

by M. Benjamin Woodall

London’s Emo Kid Publishing

Marietta, GA

© 2018, M. Benjamin Woodall

Cover art, © 2018, by Briana Sanchez and M. Benjamin Woodall

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without the written permission from its publisher or author.

The characters portrayed are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

CONTENTS

Longhorn’s Map

An Anchor’s Heart

Befallings at Sea

Mutiny on the Sandpiper

A Barren Land

Caught like a Mouse

Onyx Palace

Matters of Evil

Questions, Solutions

Gladiator Training

The Arena

Flight of Fancy

The Keeper’s Tower

Raise the Black Flag

Surprise from the Deep

Dawn’s Gate

Longhorn’s Map

Upon the snorting of the horse beneath my legs, I close mine eyes to take in the overwhelming, comely smells emanating from the distant ocean—a salty stench I’ve never before known, like the worst parts of the Swamp yet somehow sweeter and more pleasant to the senses. Timely, I open my lids to a rush of cool, October wind. At the edge of this sandy cliff, overlooking a mile or more ahead past the Port of Tethal in the south-east, we view the Sea of Power, where many masted sails rise from the harbor. Wide is the rippling, watery expanse before us, vanishing only along the eastern horizon of our world. Shimmering, almost limitless, its beating waves flowering over vast, sandy beaches which reach southward of the town.

I turn to face Sir John upon his steed next to me, looking away as I was, thoughts adrift as mine. His strength and courage stand out from a handsome, bearded face like none other. Thou true love, I so dote upon thee. I pray thou knowest my heart though I feign a cold bosom, for I fear thou shalt return to the Land of the Dawn when we find the Shield of the Sun and open the door. I fear thou mayest not resist the call to the land of thy youth, while I, the queen of my people, cannot leave Angoll.

He turns to me in a smile. With a bitter grin, I turn away down to Kalla upon his pony. My smile brightens. Like a true troubadour of old, our Deforian companion has jollied up our merry company with ballad after ballad, providing needed comedy and sweet tragedy to enliven our meek spirits. A ready tongue is his. Yet still, behind Kalla’s silken glance lies the weary heart of a young king still coming into his own vigorous charge.

Well, Kalla begins, we’ve come all this way. Let’s go down there and see what awaits us. Maybe we’ll find a good tavern to get a drink and some real food.

I hear you, buddy, John acknowledges, pulling back the reigns of his horse, guiding it to walk around the back of mine. My queen…

I say naught but lead my horse away from the cliff and ride to move ahead of my companions’ steeds as we forge ahead along the outcrop toward the only road downhill into town. ‘Tis expected that we see a Tethalian along the way, but, anon, nary a soul do we pass till we arrive. The doors and buildings are shorter than those of East Point, as if made for children, appropriate for the shorter stature of its inhabitants. But unlike East Point, many of these are not only wooden, or stone, but made of smoothly-formed, grey brick, with intricate designed architecture and all having windows of clear glass. The Port of Tethal appears to be a bustling center for trade, yet not one Tethalian do we meet—carriages, wagons, but nary a resident to greet us. Hence, while trotting down the main street, we stop our rides.

Sir John, with the mighty Sword of Truth at his back, I with shield behind and sword at waist, and Kalla too with blade, may appear to any here to be harbingers of a world out there these peaceful townsfolk wish to disbelieve. Where is everybody? ponders John. Where are all the Tethalians?

It is a sea port, Kalla says. My guess is, their trade, among other things, is fishing. Maybe this is a day of a good catch.

The Deforian is correct, says one from off the street. We turn to see an old, white-bearded Tethalian, a dwarf as some have called their race, wearing a linen shirt with jacket, trousers only to his knees and stockings underneath. He is short like Kalla—under four feet tall.

How goes thee? I greet him.

Ahoy, me lass—lads.

There is a festival? Kalla asks.

Aye. On the beach.

A party! declares John, throwing a fist into the air, holding the reigns with one hand as his horse prances in place—he pulls the horse’s neck to the side, it snorts and now straightens up. Let’s go!

Ye three are truly a portentous sight, the old Tethalian says, scratching his beard. A Deforian and two Raiders from the Land of the Dawn, armed as if come from battle… Ye armored lass with shield at back and sword at waist, and proud lord with sword behind…

She and I really are Raiders, humans, John says, "but only I am from the Earth, the Land of the Dawn."

Blimey, lad, me only meant it as a jest. And ye really are from that land?

Yeah, but, I didn’t come from across the sea.

How did ye come here, then?

By magic, I guess.

Morgana’s magic, Kalla says.

Shiver me soul. The Dark Lady? The Dragon?

You bet, says John. With all her Gargoyles too. We’re experienced at killing Gargoyles.

And evil wizards, Kalla adds.

He’s right. And those guys.

Me soul…

Noble sir, I say to him. We come from afar and seek to buy passage across the sea. Mayest thou aid us?

Whither are ye headed?

To the Lands of Knowledge.

If it be sailors ye seek, ye will find them on the beach at the festival. But if it be answers, and maybe riches as well, I have something to show ye.

What do you mean?

I be Captain Shamock. I be an old salt of the sea, ventured far and wide across Angoll, seen many a wonder, but there is one voyage that I have always yearned to take, yet have never undertaken it. It is to seek out the famous treasure of the Raider pirate, Longhorn, buried long, long ago in the Lands of Knowledge. And I alone have come into possession of his map. If ye help me finance such a voyage, I would be forever in yer debt, for me life would be complete.

Hey, guys, John says, can we go? Huh? Can we go after this pirate’s treasure?

Sounds like fun, says Kalla.

Verily, I say, we should aid each other. Dost thou have a ship?

For the right price? Aye.

May we see this map?

Aye. Come into me shop and I’ll show ye. Come. We dismount and guide our steeds to a post outside of a small blacksmith shop where we tie them up by the reigns. Anon, we follow our old Tethalian host inside.

‘Tis a small shop, and not just because John and I must lower our heads to stand. The shop is not much more than a wide hallway, wooden counter on one side, ending against a brick wall. Various Tethalian-size metal armaments, shields, knives, and horseshoes hang on the other. The old Tethalian goes behind the counter as we enter and into a back room. He returns promptly with an old, dusty chest, setting it on the counter top. Opening it, he pulls out a rolled parchment map with crumbled edges, which he unfolds and spreads out before us. The map shows three larger islands surrounding a small fourth, upon which is marked an X.

Longhorn raided and pillaged many ships from Angoll to yer land, Shamock says to me and John. Kalla is busy looking through his backpack—he pulls out a sheet of parchment and pen. Legend also tells of magical artifacts, like an ancient shield, that he also buried here along with his treasures.

I turn to John in astonishment. The Shield of the Sun!

Looks like we came to the right place, says John.

Kalla now has his parchment on the counter and is drawing a copy of Longhorn’s map. Avast! the old captain shouts as he notices, slamming his hand upon Kalla’s drawing. What do ye think yer doing!

Adding a map of these lands to my collection, Kalla answers.

Shamock leans over the counter at Kalla, showing his rotting teeth behind bristles of white. This here map be mine and mine alone! Kalla shivers. Shamock backs. Ye three, if ye finance this voyage, may have one half share. Otherwise— Apace, he rolls up the map, shoves it into the chest, and shuts the lid. —we have no deal. Savvy?

That was completely uncalled for, says Kalla, I— I silence him by softly closing his green snout with my hand.

We have a deal, I say.

So, what treasures do ye have? What can ye give me?

I take out the small purse from underneath my leather vest, untie it, and pour the