A Kingdom Falls (The Mancer Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

“Yes,” said Guardian Spear.

Guardian Ending nodded.

“Good.  Thank you.”  Brother Warsmith smiled, contentedly.  “Take the Holy Book now, for the end will be coming swiftly.”

“As you wish.”

Guardian Spear glanced over to the table where Warsmith’s copy of the Holy Book was laying open.  “I will take it to the garden, Brother Warsmith.”

“No, not that copy.  Under my cot there is a medium-sized travel trunk.”

Guardian Spear knelt on the ground, looked under the bed and pulled out the trunk.  “This trunk, Brother Warsmith?”

“Yes,” confirmed Warsmith.  “Give it to me.”  Warsmith weakly pushed himself into a sitting position.  Guardian Spear handed over the trunk.  Warsmith ran his hand slowly over the lid of the wooden trunk before opening it and removing a couple of travelling cloaks.  “Your dagger, Guardian Ending.”  Ending handed over his dagger.

Using the dagger, Warsmith stabbed the floor of the trunk at one of the corners and dragged the blade down before stopping and breathing heavily.  Guardian Ending tapped his teeth together thoughtfully before moving forward to remove the trunk and dagger from Warsmith.  Placing the trunk on the floor, he used the dagger to finish cutting out the false bottom.  He reached down and removed a medium-sized plain-looking book, then handed it over to Warsmith.

Bruce Warsmith smiled his thanks and held the book to his chest.  “This is my original Holy Book.”  Holding it out to Brother Spear, he said, “Take it.”

Spear reverently took the book and opened it at a random page.  “Brother Warsmith!” he said in awe.

“Yes, Guardian Spear.  This is the book I found in that small village.  This is the book that was written by
him
.”

Guardian Spear closed the book slowly and held it protectively to his chest.

“You must take it to the garden and find Rose,” commanded Warsmith.

“I will,” stated Guardian Spear.  Guardian Ending nodded.

“Good.”  Warsmith slid back down to a prone position in his bed.  “Guardian Ending, please sort out the trunk so it looks as good as new.”

Guardian Ending nodded.

“I think I shall sleep now,” said Warsmith as he closed his eyes.

“Sleep well, Brother,” whispered Guardian Spear.

Guardian Ending sighed and turned his attention to the trunk.  Quickly, he smoothed out the ragged edges with his dagger and placed the travel cloaks back inside He picked up the pieces of the false bottom, stood upright, and started to make his way out of the tent.

Gripping the Holy Book firmly in his hand, Guardian Spear took one last look at Brother Warsmith.  “I shall not fail you, Brother.  I promise you by this book.”  Slipping the book inside his jerkin, Spear followed his fellow Guardian out of the tent.

***

Aaron Power strode through the camp back towards Brother Warsmith’s tent.  His meeting with the senior Brothers had gone well.  They had quickly and easily agreed to a full meeting of the most senior Craktoneon to discuss the failing health of Brother Warsmith.  It would take a week for them to all gather, but a week was fine - a week gave him ample time.

As he neared the tent, he saw Guardians Spear and Ending exit the tent and take their normal position nearby, which must mean they had finished clearing the shit and puke from the old man.  Good, as he could not stand the smell.

As he neared, Spear and Ending stood to attention.  “Sergeant Guardian Power,” said Spear.

“How is he?” asked Power.

“He is comfortable,” answered Spear.

Aaron nodded his head in reply as he passed them and entered Warsmith’s’ abode.

***
*

Five days later

“How long has he been in there?” asked Alex Weir of the innkeeper who was standing outside Reif Rothgal’s room.

“Three days, sir.  He won’t allow anyone in except serving maids, and only then if they have beer.”

“Hmm, I see, and how much does he owe you?”

“Let’s see - room rent, beer, and a small amount of food… about six silvers.”

“Here,” said Alex as he reached into his pocket and took out a gold coin, “keep the change.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“Now, please go.  I need to speak to my friend.”

“At once.”  With that, the innkeeper made his way down the small corridor towards the stairs.

Alex looked at the door, took a deep breath, reached for the handle, and opened the door.  Alex immediately noticed two things as he entered the room.  The first was how dark it was, even though it was almost midday.  This was due to the heavy-duty curtains being shut.  The second was the stench of body odour, stale beer, smoke, and vomit.  “For fuck sake, Reif!” coughed Alex as he moved towards the window.

“Get the fuck out!” shouted Reif Rothgal.

“Fuck off!” declared Alex as he drew the curtains and threw open the window.

“I said get the fuck out!” screamed Reif as he raised an arm to protect his eyes from the bright light.

Alex turned and looked at his dishevelled friend who was sitting at a table next to the unmade bed.  “You look like shit.”

Reif gave Alex the finger.

“Reif, you need to get your shit together.  There is an important meeting of the Craktoneons in two days’ time and you need to be there.”

“Alex.”

“What?”

“Just fuck off!” sneered Reif.

“Reif, I know you only buried...”

“Buried.  Buried!  Is that what you called it, Alex?”  Reif stood up, unsteadily.  “Buried?  My parents were mutilated!”  Tears started to fall from Reif’s red raw eyes.  “My mother had her face half ripped off and her eyes torn from their sockets.  My father had his left arm and right leg missing.  I tried to bury what was left of my parents in our family cemetery, but guess what, Alex?  Eh?”

Alex Weir looked down at the floor.  “I know, Reif.”

“Know what?”

“That you were not allowed,” said Alex, sadly.

Reif stuck his face in Alex’s.  “I was not fucking allowed, was I?!”

“No.”

“No.  No,” said Reif softly as he patted Alex’s shoulder, “because the fucking Red Bank now owns all my land and they did not allow me to bury my parents in the family cemetery.  So what did I have to do... old friend?”

“I offered you the money, Reif.”

“What did I have to do?”

“I offered you the money, Reif,” repeated Alex, getting angry.

“I had to sell most of my belonging to have enough to bury them in a semi-decent cemetery, and guess who owns the fucking cemeteries now?  Eh, Alex?”

“The Red Bank,” stated Alex.

“Yes, the fucking Red Bank.  Not only have they stolen my inheritance - that I could almost live with - but they have stolen my family’s dignity in death.”

“I am sorry, Reif...”

“Sorry!  Sorry?”  Reif turned around with a sad little laugh.  “Sorry.  Oh well, that’s okay, then.”  Reaching the table, he picked up the bottle of wine and took a deep drink, before spinning on his heel and flinging the bottle at his friend.  “Sorry, you sanctimonious bastard!” he screamed.  “Is that all you can say?”

Alex dodged to one side and the bottle smashed on the wall behind him.  “So what are you going to do, Reif?  Drink yourself into oblivion every day?  Stay in this foul room?”  Alex moved towards Reif.

“Just FUCK OFF!”

“Reif,” said Alex, coldly.

“What?  You fuc...”

Alex’s fist connected with Reif’s jaw, sending the man sprawling to the floor.  “Your father would be ashamed of you, you pathetic idiot!”  Alex kicked Reif in the ribs.  “Do you think he would have self-destructed?  Do you think he would have wallowed in self-pity?  No, he would have done what needed to be done and then he would have sought revenge.”

“My father was a good man,” whispered Reif.

“And as for your mother...” began Alex.

“You leave my mother out of this!” demanded Reif.

“What do you think she would have said?”

“She would have said...”

Alex waited a few moments before breaking the silence by asking again, “What do you think she would have said?”

“She would have said...”  Reif grasped the edge of the table and painfully pulled himself up, “...be a man.”

“Yes, she would,” Alex gently agreed.

“There is nothing here for me now.”

“No, there isn’t.”

Reif sniffed and looked around the room.  “So, what were you saying about a meeting of the Craktoneons?”

“There is an important meeting being held in two days’ time.  If we hurry, we could make the tail end of the meeting.”

Reif ran a hand through his dirty greasy hair.  “Your timing is perfect, Alex.  I was beginning to be bored of being a filthy drunken idiot.”

“You can always go back to it, once you have talked to the Brothers and taken your revenge on those thrice-cursed werewolves.”  Alex smiled to himself as he saw a spark of life in his friend’s eyes.  That spark may be fuelled by anger and rage, but that was better than the self-pity and hatred that had been there before.

“I need a bath,” stated Reif.  “Have the innkeeper send up hot water and ....” Reif looked round the room, “...a bath.”

“Will do,” replied Alex as he walked to the door.  “Just be ready for tomorrow morning.”

“I will be.”  Reif ran his hand through his filthy hair.  “I will be,” he declared with authority.

***

Two days later

Aaron Power stared into the deep early morning fog that had surrounded the Craktoneon’s camp.  “The time is now.  Are you ready?” the Midnight Man’s voice echoed strangely inside Aaron’s head.

“Yes,” Aaron replied.

“You must get the book and the secrets it holds.”

“I will.”

“Good.  Today will mark the beginning of my return, and you and Joanna shall at last be together.”

“My sweet angel of death,” whispered Aaron.

“Yes, your sweet angel of death.”

Aaron felt himself getting aroused at the thought of finally being able to lay his hands on the woman who had bewitched him with her love of death.

“Do not fail me,” the Midnight Man’s voice was cold and clinical.

“I won’t,” responded Aaron as he watched the vague human shapes appear and then disappear in the thick fog.

Aaron Power turned and made his way through the fog-laden camp.  He smiled to himself as he noticed that the mist had caused an otherworldly effect.  People drifted in and out of view like ghosts.  The cooking fires were strangely subdued as if the grey smog was sucking the very life and soul from them.  “
Death is beautiful
,” he whispered to himself.

***

“Something evil comes.”  Guardian Spear shuddered as he pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders.  Guardian Ending looked at his friend.  “I know by the prickling of my thumbs.  Trust me, my mute friend.  I think today may be the day Brother Warsmith told us about.”

Ending thought for a moment and then nodded.

“We must be ready.”  Another nod from Guardian Ending before he snapped smartly to attention.  Guardian Spear quickly shrugged off the blanket and followed his friend’s example.

“At ease, Guardians,” said Sergeant Guardian Power.

“Yes, Sergeant Guardian Power,” responded Spear.

“Are they all in there yet?”

“No, Sergeant Guardian.  Brothers Bowler and Widden are still to arrive.”

“That is not good.”  Aaron shook his head.  “How about the Brothers from the other camps?”

“They are all in the tent, and in prayer with and for Brother Warsmith.”

“That is good that they are all together.”

“I believe that some of the lesser...”

“They do not matter,” cut in Aaron.  He turned to look Spear in the eye.  “All that matters are the senior ones.”

“Yes, Sergeant Guardian Power,” replied Spear with a slight shudder.

“Cold?”

“It’s the fog, Sergeant Guardian,” responded Spear.

“Is it?”  With that, Aaron Power walked into the tent.

Guardian Spear watched Sergeant Guardian Power walk into the tent, before turning his attention to Ending.  “Did you see his eyes?”
Ending nodded.

“They were dead - no emotion at all, no feeling at all.  And my thumbs are prickling like mad.”

Guardian Ending bent down and picked up a bag.  He grabbed his friend’s arm and tried to pull him along with him as he began to walk away from the tent.