Authors: Laszlo,Jeremy
“Very well, boy. Visit the castle, tell my guard that I said you are to be fed and heavily rewarded for doing your duties. Then, return to Drakenhurst and send word if anything changes.”
“Yes, your Majesty. Right away.” Without another word the young messenger sped off towards the castle, and although it was Garret’s destination as well, he stood for a moment and pondered the implications of what he’d been told. Originally, he planned to span his efforts over several months in order to accomplish his goals and perhaps buy time for his new army to mature, but now, it seemed, the rules of the game had changed.
Turning to follow the messenger boy, Garret continued his trek to the castle complex. Entering the compound he admired the training grounds to his right and the mages tower ahead, though neither were his destination. Instead, he turned towards the barracks that once housed the knights of Valdadore.
Pulling the massive wooden door open, the former knight entered the building for the first time in months. As it was mostly vacant except for a few servants and occasionally Zorbin Ironfist, there was little chance for his meeting being interrupted or overheard. Entering the dining hall where he had eaten all of his meals before becoming the king, Garret laid eyes on the dark figure seated in the back corner of the room. He found it amusing that the man appeared exactly as Garret would have imagined him; dressed entirely in black with a deeply-cowled cloak and a myriad of belts holding sheaves with daggers. To his back were strapped a pair of swords, and over his shoulder was a short bow designed for firing while atop a horse. Though a man who thrived in the underworld, he was well dressed with expensive fabrics and knee-high riding boots of the highest quality, though Garret supposed he could have stolen it all.
Taking a seat opposite the sell-sword, Garret peered deeply into the cowl at a pair of silver eyes. Nothing else was distinguishable about the man, but when his voice escaped the darkness therein, Garret knew the man was not from Valdadore.
“Do you find my terms agreeable?” the man said in a voice that sounded like boulders grating together.
“You are certain that you can carry out this mission?” Garret asked.
“If he can be killed, your Majesty, it will be done.”
“And if he can’t?” Garret asked.
“Then I will not be returning for the other half of my payment.”
“Good,” Garret replied, “Then you should know that circumstances have changed.”
“The Dark prince is under attack,” the assassin admonished.
“How could you know such a thing?”
“I make it my business to know such things. I will use this diversion to my advantage and bring you his head.”
Garret didn’t know how the man knew news that he was just given, himself, but saw it as a good sign. There was no telling what god the sell-sword worshipped or what his blessings might be, but he came very highly recommended from the types of people who would know. Without hesitation, Garret reached down and pulled the heavily laden pouch from his belt and dropped it on the table. “Fifteen hundred golden crowns, enough to purchase a small kingdom, as agreed.”
“It is good to do business with you, King of Valdadore. I look forward to when next we meet,” the man proclaimed before His guise changed, his form seemed to waver, and he vanished before Garret’s very eyes. The king of Valdadore could not help but grin. If anyone could get past the demon queen of Drakenhurst and Seth’s abomination champions, it would be this man. Turning with a wide grin on his face, Garret knew only two things could make this night better—a few hours picking Lycan studs to breed to all the upcoming bitches, and a night with his soon-to-be queen.
Chapter Four
Borrik circled low over the battlefield, flapping his wings in a steady rhythm that matched his beastly heart. He focused on a single point below him, at a distance of not a hundred yards away. There a spec of steel glinted in the early morning rays, and refusing to blink he watched it as if his life depended upon it.
Twice in the night the invaders had returned out of nowhere and just as quickly they had vanished again. On their last appearance a mage had stood where now Borrik focused. A mage he intended to bring to an end as soon as they reappeared. That is, if his thinking was correct, and they would appear in the same places, just as they had vanished.
Around him the world slowly spun as he circled, the sun climbing ever so slowly to mount the sky. He was vaguely aware of both his king and queen in his peripherals as images from his officers flickered from behind his eyes. They too stalked prey that at present did not exist. Each of them stood focused, at the ready, awaiting an opportunity to pounce.
With the coming of afternoon, followed by evening, Borrik could not help but wonder how long precisely it would be, that the enemy would make them wait. No sooner was his thought finished, than the world below changed, becoming once more filled with bodies of those bent on killing his king.
Within an instant the air was filled with fire, smoke, and the trails of other wicked magics cast. The twangs of ballistae met the roaring battle cries and screams of those felled. Without time for thought, Borrik folded his wings and plunged earthward, blades drawn, a deep growl escaping his throat.
With the fur bristling on his neck he crashed to the ground with little regard for himself, lashing out at the woman who stood at the point of his focus for more than eighteen hours. Swinging both blades at once he watched as her head toppled from her shoulders as her body was split diagonally in two from shoulder to hip. Roaring his triumph as he charged to lay waste to yet another foe, his thirst for revenge was left unsated as yet again the enemy was gone. They had failed once more to find the one who enabled an entire army to vanish.
Taking back to the sky, the great wolf man turned his focus to Seth to ensure that all was as it should be, as the air caught in his throat. Having expected to wait several hours if not a day for the enemy to reappear, Borrik had not expected when once more the field of battle was filled with an army dressed in black chain and plate armor, all of them charging towards his master.
* * * * *
Seth watched the sudden and unexpected return of the army with the vision of the gods, seeking out those with abilities. For him, the instant was several moments long but so astonished and caught off guard was he at the moment of their return, he was too late in discovering the reason for the sudden change in tactics.
Feeling the blade rend through his flesh, severing his spine, Seth twisted, falling, as he fought to repair the wound. His knees striking the ground, he began shifting his body, dismantling the wound and repairing it once more around the blade to allow the weapon to fall free. Reaching out to grasp at his attacker with his abilities, Seth grasped at the man’s aura and pulled, his eyes growing wide in disbelief. Coming apart like water through his fingers, the man’s aura of life slipped from his grasp, wisped away like smoke in the wind, and then he and the entire army were gone.
Pondering for many moments what it was that he had just witnessed, Seth could not believe the man had escaped. He had touched the man’s aura and in so doing knew that this was the man responsible for the vanishing army. He was the one with the ability. There could be more, Seth knew, but he now knew what he was looking for.
Rising to his feet as both Sara and Borrik rushed to his side, Seth found his vision swimming, and taking a breath, he found he was unable to. Lifting his hand before his face, he could see the spread of an oily hue beneath his flesh as he knees gave out beneath him.
“Poison,” Seth gasped, delving into his aura to locate the intruder. To either side of him, he could feel Borrik and Sara tugging at him, dragging him to his feet before launching into the air.
Delving through his vast aura, Seth could feel as well as see the effects of the stain spreading within him. It was like an army of ants disturbed from their homes, climbing into and onto every part of his being and attacking. Like the ants he envisioned the poison being, the venom was derived from something living, and as such, Seth studied its replicating aura.
Tugging at the venom, in an attempt to isolate it, he found it could not easily be separated from his own aura, like that of other life. It had melded with him, become a part of him, and as its host, it was consuming him at an ever-increasing rate. Seth could feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest as his lungs screamed for air, but there was no help for his body, not if he couldn’t derive a solution.
Seeking further still, Seth studied the spreading stain within him for what felt like hours, though in reality only minutes had passed. Like the tainted blood that flowed heavily in Sara’s veins, the venom was becoming a part of him, altering his aura, consuming the life of the gods contained within him. There was something more, too. Within the aura of the poison was a trace of power that only Seth would recognize. Ishanya had a part to play in this plot. Perhaps it was not Garret that had been created to kill him, but this assassin surely was.
Giving up on finding a way to strip the poison from his infected aura, Seth took the only route he could think of. Seeking outside of himself, he found that Sara and Borrik had settled him within the castle walls and the lives of his people were all around him. Delving into and through those sparks of life, Seth found what it was he sought. There, in a darkened room with a dirt floor and straw mattress, an old man lay upon a bed, struggling to breathe. In the corner of his room was a rusting set of armor, a sure sign of this man’s service to the city and the people. It was time the man served them once more. One more sacrifice before he was lost.
Focusing himself on the old man, Seth mingled their auras, testing and pulling, ripping himself apart, separating the infected portions of his power from those not yet tainted. It was a grueling process, one that tested the limits of his focus, of his abilities, but it was the only way. Assured that all the poisoned pieces of him had been extricated, Seth worked to complete his task as his heart stopped, and lungs collapsed upon themselves as Sara’s words from the day prior repeated in his failing mind.
* * * * *
Sara knelt over the thrashing body of her fallen husband. His skin grew darker and drier with each passing second, splitting in several places as blood and other fluids began to spill onto the ground. Above her, Borrik roared out over the wall, his rage unleashed, daring the enemy to return, but Sara could not share the emotion. She felt devoid of hope, helpless, and unable to do anything for a man just moments ago she thought invincible.
“C’mon, Seth. Breathe. You can do it,” she told him, watching his yellowing eyes roll back in their sockets as froth poured from the corner of his mouth. Struggling to hold him still, lest he do more damage to himself, she felt more than saw as his muscles began to cramp tighter and tighter until audible snaps began to sound within him. The poison was rending him apart from within. Jerking and twitching, Seth’s eyes swiveled skywards once more, locking their gaze with her own, and Sara knew it was the last moment they would share.
As if to confirm her thought, Seth stopped thrashing as a calm finally fell over his body, his torn skin and muscles falling limp upon the cold stone walls of the city. Screaming in anguish, Sara beat one fist down upon Seth’s bloody chest as a great roar erupted from outside the walls, met by one from above her as Borrik launched out and away from the city.
* * * * *
Gasping, Hort Dermonte sat up from his bed, raising his hands before his eyes, bending his gnarled, arthritic fingers in wonder. Rising to his feet, he took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand and contract in his chest. His vision was like new. He felt revived and reborn, but he knew something was not as it should be. Had he finally passed on?
Looking to the straw mattress, no body remained where he had just moments before been lying. No, he supposed he was still alive.
“Can you hear me?” a voice asked from within and, figuring it was all a sick dream simply to get his hopes up, Hort decided to reply.
“Yeah, I can ’ear ya.”
“Good, Hort. My name is Seth Derringer, and I need to ask a service of you.”
“Seth, like the king, Seth?” Hort asked, not surprised the man could climb inside his head. It was said the man was a demon, but lately he heard whispers that the new king was a walking god. Having been a man who once claimed a blessing of his own, he knew it was folly to question the gods.
“One and the same,” the voice replied.
“Is it yer doin’ that I am up and outta bed?” Hort asked, testing his knees with a few quick squats.
“It is.”
“Then what is it I can do for, yer Majesty?” Hort asked, walking to the front door of his tiny home.
“You are aware that you were dying?” the voice inside his head asked.
“Yessum, I don’t reckon I had more than a couple days left.”
“You may not be aware, then, that we are under attack, and that I have been struck down. Your king needs you, Hort. You can serve me just as you have served in the past, and for it your legacy will live on so long as I remain.”
“Be it true that you are a god?” Hort asked.
“Almost,” Seth answered.
“Good enough for me,” Hort replied. “What is it that needs being done, that you would hop in the head of an old dying soldier like myself? Ain’t no dirty work, is it? Just cause I’m dying don’t mean I got no honor left.”
“Nothing like that at all. I need your body, Hort. You will remain as a part of me for as long as I live, and through your sacrifice, I will be able to continue fighting for what I believe is right, and protect the people of Thurr.”
“Sounds like a tall order, you be putting yourself up to.”
“It is, but the people deserve it.”
“Good on ya, kid… err, yer Majesty. I got no gripe with going out with dignity. Better than pissin’ myself in bed there and just never wakin’ up. Mind if I ask something of you in return?”
“Anything you like.”
“Could I see the sun once more? Used to watch it rise and set every day, but ain’t been able to get to the window in months.”
“Absolutely,” Seth replied. “It is day now.”
Hort strolled towards the door, a pep in his step he hadn’t achieved in more than two decades. Yanking the door open wide, he breathed in the fresh air, relishing the memories that flashed in his mind’s eye. He’d had a lot of good years and served the people of Drakenhurst as best as he was able. He’d loved a wonderful woman and raised two kids who were grown and moved off to the east. He’d been blessed by Gorandor once, and been a mighty warrior, but that had been years ago.
As he raised his head with tears streaming down his wrinkled face, Hort knew he needed one more thing from the god king. “Hey, yer Majesty, I got one last request.”
“Name it and I will see it done.”
“There’s been this nice girl, pretty young lady she is, that has been bringing me food for more than a month now. She been helpin’ me eat and even has washed my clothes a time or two when I wasn’t able to. She goes by Sara, and says she came to Drakenhurst with your people. If you know her, could you tell her thank you for me.”
“I can do that and more,” Seth’s voice said with a hint of admiration.
“Alright then,” Hort said. “Do what ye need.”
Like a man possessed, Hort’s body jerked forward before launching into a run. Down the city streets he raced, leaping the remnants of collapsed buildings and gaining speed. Within him, he could feel something stirring, something vast and powerful, and brushing conscious with it, he knew in his bones that he had done the right thing.
Reaching the stone stairs of the city’s new defensive wall he had heard so much about, he raced up, taking two and three steps per stride. Reaching the top he turned to the south and raced along behind hundreds of surprised defenders. Skidding to a stop, he looked down upon the young woman who was so kind as to visit with him and feed him over the last months. Her face was a veil of pain and tears left trails down her cheeks. On her knees upon the stone, she leaned over the ruined body of a man with great leathery wings. Hort knew this was the body of the king. He’d heard the rumors. This was the man inside him.
“I’ll handle it from here,” the king’s voice said inside his head. Hort only nodded.
Looking up to him, the woman gave him a sad smile. “Hort, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I’ve brought you a gift,” Hort’s mouth said of its own volition. In an instant, Hort felt the world open up to him as the power of the king filled and became one with him. The world changed before his eyes into swirling maelstroms of light and color before at last he was gone, consumed by the power of the god king.
* * * * *
Sara looked into the old man’s eyes and saw a light that had never been there before. Just days ago, she doubted he would live through the week, but something had changed in the man. “A gift?” she asked, watching as his face curled into a smile before it began to change.