Beyond the Edge of Dawn (25 page)

Corso Rising

Dusk settled over Rantis. From the confines of his official offices, Corso watched the violent explosion of colors raging across the sky. Blues struggled to survive against the onslaught of red, yellow, and orange, all being driven by the gathering darkness. This was his favorite time of day. The death of each day offered the promise of the rise of his masters. With the night, so, too, came the gods. With the dark gods came the promise of unimaginable pain and cruelty.

Corso stood with his hands clasped behind his back and watched the day die. The illusion of perfection shattered with the heavy knock upon his door. Irritated, he squeezed his eyes shut. Hundreds of years imprisoned among these peasants, and he was still forced to suffer them. Corso whirled on the door.

“Enter!” he barked.

The massive oak door swung open, and a man in simple emerald robes hurried in. Bald, without brows or eyelashes, he bore the look of a man unused to being out in the open during the light of day. His boots clinked across the polished marble floor. He stopped a meter away and submissively dropped to one knee.

Corso’s anger subsided, albeit slightly. “Report.”

“Master, the Gaimosians are moving. I caught their new leader, a man named Kavan, visiting one of the local blacksmiths on several occasions. This morning, he left with a horse heavily laden with new weaponry.”

“They could be preparing to join the hunt,” Corso theorized. He almost felt foolish for suggesting such a thing.

The spy lowered his head. “We thought so, too, at first.”

“But?”

“The Fist commander has made contact with them.”

So, Pharanx Gorg has sought out the Gaimosians. This is an unexpected turn of events
. “When?”

“Early last night. He and two others approached the knights in one of the local inns. They spoke for a time, and both groups parted.”

The spy was clearly uncomfortable. He’d heard rumors of too many men in his profession disappearing after delivering an unfavorable report to Corso.

“What did they discuss?” Corso pressed. He was too absorbed in his thoughts to worry over the pathetic life of his spy.

Bowing lower, the spy said, “We caught whispers of an alliance and something about an abandoned fortress to the north of Rantis.”

Kalad Tol? What significance lies there
? The old fortress had been the original capital of Aradain when the first king broke away and declared his freedom. That was two hundred years ago, and no one had used it since. At least no one from the kingdom. Thieves and outlaws often holed up there to wait out the king’s justice.

“This could work to our advantage,” Corso muttered. He turned his back to finish watching the sunset. “Take your men, and move on the smith. Burn it to the ground, and kill any you find within. Make it look like an accident.”

“Yes, master. The Gaimosians?”

Corso almost laughed. “Those few killed over fifty of the best mercenaries in the world without sustaining a single casualty. What makes you think you stand a chance? No. Leave them to me.”

“Yes, master.”

“Leave me,” Corso snapped.

The door clicked shut.

Corso began to feel nervous. Gaimosians. The Fist. Moncrieff. The nexus. It felt like the world was tearing apart in several directions. He was almost paralyzed from making a move out of fear. What if he made the decisions and the dark gods weren’t freed? An eternity of torment and misery awaited his soul. It took many long moments of deep thought before he made up his mind.

His first move would be against Pirneon. The Knight Marshal was by far the biggest threat. With that obstacle removed, Corso knew nothing could stand in his way. Hopefully, Moncrieff would keep the Fist and Gaimosians occupied in Kalad Tol long enough for the eclipse to pass.

Yes, Corso decided, it would begin with the former Knight Marshal of Gaimos. He changed back into his robes of state and went in search of the general. The time had come to make his move.

Tamblin collapsed on top of Pirneon. She was out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat. Her hair was a mess while her eyes bore a distant look. Most importantly, she was thoroughly satisfied. Locks of blond hair dangled over his face.

“That was incredible,” she managed between gasps.

He was in no position to argue. When she finally slid off of him and onto the cool silk sheets of their king-sized bed, he made his way to the washbasin. The room he’d been given in the palace was a bit hot but otherwise fit for a king. Certainly deserving for the Knight Marshal. He looked back at the beautiful woman lying in his bed and felt satisfied for the first time in seventy years.

“I can’t believe I’m actually sleeping in the palace!” Tamblin exclaimed. “Me, a plain old serving maid.”

Pirneon sat on the edge of the bed. “This was one of my conditions to the king.”

She gave him a look of flat disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He lazily traced the line of her thigh muscle. “This is the first time that I’ve been truly happy. I owe it all to you, my sweet Tamblin. You’ve given me my life back. For that, I can never repay you.”

Her arm snaked around his neck, and she pulled him close for a deep, passionate kiss. Soon, he was on top of her, and the sounds of their lovemaking echoed through the room.

Pirneon opened the door with the hostility of a man who didn’t want to be disturbed. Naked, he stared down at the palace servant.

“My apologies, lord,” he said, “but Minister Corso has requested your presence.”

“For what?” Pirneon asked, secretly glowing at the honorific.

“Such is not my place to know. He and General Moncrieff await you, and I am to take you there.”

Pirneon wasted no time in thought. “Very well. Wait here while I get dressed.”

“As you wish.”

“Ah, Knight Marshal, we’ve been awaiting you,” Corso said with a fake smile.

He was one of three people seated around a massive wooden table littered with gouges and cuts from idle knives. Pirneon immediately felt that the size of the table made their gathering inadequate. It was a scenario he’d seen many times before. Little people trying to act important. Pirneon ignored the comment and took the remaining chair. He ignored Moncrieff and the other man.

“What is this about?”

Oddly, the third man kept his head down, refusing to make eye contact.

“We’ve decided that the time has come to strike,” Corso explained. “Our enemies are gathering, though it’s of no real concern to you. The threat in the ruins must be dealt with first.”

Pirneon wondered what Corso meant by enemies. Every kingdom had foes, but Corso was right. It wasn’t his concern. He’d come to end the werebeast threat. The rebuilding of Gaimos became a side quest, but one suddenly obtainable.

Corso continued, “What is important to you is the fact that the ruins will be unwatched. We can arm a small group and slip inside, forever stopping the monster threat to Aradain. With the monsters eliminated, our armies can move on the Fist and crush them at last.”

“The Fist?” Pirneon asked, his interest suddenly piqued.

Moncrieff growled. “Those bastards have been plotting to kill the king and take over the kingdom. Our spies have just brought word that they’re holed up in the ruins of Kalad Tol. I’m taking the army to put them down.”

“I’ve had my experiences with them as well. I had not heard of their designs to conquer your kingdom, however,” Pirneon said.

“Malweir is a dangerous place, as I’m sure you are well aware, Pirneon. Do not concern yourself with the Fist. Our army is enough. You and I, along with a small detachment of special guards will depart before dawn. Entering the pit is always safest at first light.”

Pirneon leaned forward to study the faded map laid out on the table. Advancing on a position without proper reconnaissance sat ill, almost making him wish for Kavan and the others. Then his old arrogance returned, and Pirneon knew he would be better off alone.

“Do we have any idea how many werebeasts are within?” he asked.

“No. There have been few survivors from the hunts. It is murder on a grand scale. We estimate several dozen, though,” Moncrieff added.

“A noble task. I will do what I can to end your nightmares or give my life trying.”

Corso stood and clapped. “Very well. We meet at the stables one hour before dawn. Then we shall truly see what happens beyond the edge of dawn.”

“Until the morning,” Pirneon excused himself.

There was much to be done and little time in which to prepare. Moncrieff departed right after, for he, too, had much to plan. He felt the most alive out of them all. A professional soldier, Moncrieff reveled in the sudden chance to defend his kingdom and protect the crown.

Kalad Tol

The tiny band of Gaimosians rode into the crumbling ruins of Kalad Tol under the watchful eyes of the Fist. Dressed in their traditional black camouflage, the mercenaries were almost invisible to the unsuspecting eye. Kavan counted heads the closer he rode. He didn’t like the circumstances or trust the Fist, but he felt like he was left with little real choice.

As agreed, the Fist scouts met them on the outskirts of Rantis and guided them back to the ruins. They’d been instructed not to speak, especially not to answer any questions. Gaimosians were dangerous allies and worse enemies. Should both parties survive the coming fight, they might easily turn on each other. Kavan welcomed the silence, patiently taking note of defenses, personnel, and access points.

“That’s far enough,” Pharanx Gorg said from atop the battlement.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Aphere said.

Kavan kept his eyes locked on the Fist commander. “To improve our odds of surviving. I don’t think it will come to a fight, but be ready just in case.”

“You hope,” Geblin added wryly.

His people had only been attacked because of the Fist. The enemy might never have found them otherwise.

Pharanx stepped down to greet them. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d actually come here, all things considered.”

“Trust has to begin somewhere. At this point, we should all be worried about our necks,” Kavan said.

“Agreed. Shall we go inside? I fear prying eyes might be curious.”

Men came up to take their horses to the stables. The smell of roast meat hung in the air. Fires burned in many parts of the main courtyard, giving warmth to those men not fortunate or high-ranking enough to get a spot in the barracks. Aphere spotted stacks of weapons placed along the walls and counted more than a hundred sleeping men alongside them. The Fist had claimed these ruins as their own, for the time being. This made them more than enough of a threat for any field army willing to break on their walls. She had little doubt that the stores were fully stocked and the coffers filled. A freshly dug well and numerous construction areas confirmed her suspicions. The Fist intended on making this a home.

Kavan said, “You’re not planning on leaving, are you?”

“We have had to change certain plans,” Pharanx admitted. “This is, in fact, the first time since I joined the Fist that we have founded a base. Surely you can see the need for a large, powerful mercenary force to not be bogged down in one place for too long.”

“You won’t be able to hold off Aradain’s army for long,” Aphere commented.

Pharanx gave a polite smile, the kind suggesting he knew more than he was willing to discuss. “We’ll hold long enough against Moncrieff. It’s the other one that worries me.”

“What makes him so dangerous?”

They hadn’t gotten to discussing the mysterious benefactor during their last meeting, leaving Kavan mired in confusion. He knew, without doubt, that the man responsible for hiring the Fist in the first place was behind the majority of trouble plaguing this kingdom.

Pharanx faced the Gaimosians. “He is altogether evil. I can see it in his eyes. The very air around him suffocates with it. My men fear he practices foul magic.”

As much as he’d been wanting confirmation, Kavan felt icy shivers ripple up his spine. “A sorcerer?”

“Worse,” Pharanx said. “It’ll be a day of celebration when he is finally struck down.”

Aphere suddenly understood. “That’s why you’re still in Aradain. For him.”

His expression took a sudden violent turn. “He betrayed us and sent my men into a slaughter. I want his head. Honor demands such and so much more. He’ll find the true meaning of suffering when next we meet.”

They entered the command center where a modest feast was laid out in welcome to the Gaimosians. Officers and senior sergeants busied themselves with maps and reports. A portly man with dark hair stood off in the corner arguing logistics with a man half his age and clearly his superior.

“Don’t mind them,” Pharanx said. “Sergeant Mapin often gets excited about his work. But come, I’ve had my adjutant prepare some food and drink. I always find it easier to conduct business on a full stomach.”

Geblin hobbled to the table. “A mug of ale would warm me up, that’s right. But this will work.”

“Help yourself. Between you and me, Mapin is also an amateur brewmeister. It’s one of the few indulgences we get.”

The Gnome took his first sip and immediately felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He gagged, eyes watering. His throat burned in protest. He expected smoke to come out of his nose and mouth.

Pharanx laughed, deep and hearty. “My apologies, but I did say he was an amateur. It only burns for the first few mouthfuls. Two or three glasses, and you won’t remember your name, little Gnome.”

Talk quickly turned serious. The Fist leadership converged on the main table to listen and add intelligence to the battle briefing.

“It is a tower of the darkest obsidian less than an hour south of Rantis. That is the source of his power,” Pharanx explained.

Kavan studied the map, gauging the distance from Kalad Tol to Gessun Thune and then back down to the obsidian tower. “No one has tried to sack it yet?”

“The forest is protected by unnatural creatures. Some say they are born from the very bosom of the old gods.” Pharanx spoke closer to the truth than he knew. “The entire area breathes of evil. I will not risk my men to do so. No. Our best chance is to catch him alone and in the open. I’ve had men watching him and his associates since they turned on us.”

“How many?” Aphere asked.

“Why?”

She exhaled mild frustration. “Because there have been public executions of some of your men over the past few days. Special army squads constantly patrol the city in search of anyone affiliated with the Fist.”

All conversation stopped. Until now, it had only been a whisper they refused to believe. Aphere didn’t like everyone staring at her, or being the bearer of bad news, but she was a Gaimosian Knight. Such was her solemn duty. “I’m sorry,” she added softly.

Pharanx frowned. Others began whispering frustrations.

“I suspect they’ve rounded up many more, innocent men, and charged them with being Fist as well,” Kavan said.

“That would explain why so little word has reached us. I took a great risk by coming in search of you. He must be preparing to strike.”

“It’s much worse than that,” Kavan added.

“What do you mean?”

“There will be an eclipse in six days. Your benefactor will attempt to open the nexus, a path between dimensions, and free the dark gods from their prison. All Malweir is in jeopardy.”

Pharanx paled. “How would you know that?”

“The Oracle of Wenx told us,” Aphere said.

Another bout of murmurs spread through the room. Pharanx idly traced one of his facial tattoos in thought. “The oracle.”

“How can this be?”

Only Geblin remained smug. He almost enjoyed seeing so many Humans rendered speechless. Forget that he had felt the very same way in Wenx. The decision to stand and fight had never been difficult. He’d feel better in the underworld knowing he gave his all for friends and family. It was a small comfort. He sat and watched the mercenaries to see how they would fare under the same condition.

“I’ve heard legends of the oracle,” Pharanx said. Clearly, he had difficulty assimilating this new information. He’d never signed up to fight gods. “His words are to be revered. This changes everything.”

“Not for us,” Kavan replied.

“I don’t follow.”

“We came to Aradain to put an end to the threat in the ruins. We’ve been charged by the oracle to stop this evil and keep the dark gods in their prison. This is a task appointed solely to us. All we needed was to know who their agent on Malweir was. Thanks to you, we do.” Kavan decided now was the time for a good, strong drink. Or even a bad one. He filled his mug.

Pharanx joined him. “What’s your plan?”

Kavan struggled to swallow the bitter liquid. “We had thought of charging down into Gessun Thune and sealing it off. The oracle only confirmed our charge, not the method.”

“Attacking the pit is suicide,” Pharanx said. “Eglios has held more than a dozen of his hunts. Some of the bravest men in this part of the world died down there. You risk your lives foolishly.”

Kavan already knew that. “That’s not entirely true. We have a guide who participated in one of the hunts. He took us to the ruins two days ago.”

“You Gaimosians are a dangerous breed. All of your plans are based on not knowing who to direct your attack against. When will you change?”

Smiling, Kavan wished he had a better answer. “Our goals are the same. We both want this madman stopped. I propose an alliance, at least until this mess is done.”

“An alliance?” Pharanx stared back wide-eyed. “The Fist normally work alone.”

“I don’t think either of us have a choice,” Aphere said. She was more than willing to have the small army of mercenaries at her back — anything in order to survive.

“She speaks true. Very well, an alliance is formed, but on condition,” Pharanx told them. “When we catch this man, I get to be the one who slits his miserable throat.”

“Done.”

The door burst open, and an Elf dressed in black, worn leathers entered, out of breath and disheveled. His eyes were wild. Fist members crowded in behind him, eager to hear what had him spooked.

“Calm down, Pelios. Take a breath first,” Pharanx said.

The Elf obeyed, finally regaining his stoic composure. “Moncrieff is assembling an army. They’re coming here.”

“When?”

The word was measured, fatal.

“Two days time, maybe less,” Pelios replied.

Kavan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Are you certain this is not just part of the coming hunt?”

Pelios noticed the Gaimosians for the first time and stiffened. They had been the enemy the last he knew. Pharanx caught his eye and shook his head. The Elf relaxed, if barely. “No. The army doesn’t gear up for the hunts. We overheard some of the soldiers mention an assault on Kalad Tol. They’re coming here to annihilate us.”

Kazme jerked his sword from Nik’s corpse. The assassin looked around the forge while his men ransacked the place. Blood dripped down the blade, landing on his boot. Kazme snarled and stabbed the body again in frustration. He’d just bought these boots.

“Where’s the girl?” he said menacingly.

“We can’t find her. She may have left before we had eyes on this site.”

Not likely
. He’d timed his attack perfectly, waiting until the last lamp went out before breaking in. The old man had put up a mediocre struggle before dying with a blade through his belly. The redhead was nowhere to be seen. Corso was not going to be pleased. Kazme briefly gave thought to killing him companions and burning the bodies, but that would be a waste.

“Burn it,” he commanded. “Burn it to the ground, and turn this city upside down. I want her found and dead before dawn.”

They began spreading the embers. Cries arose a short time later as flames spread to the neighboring structures. Nik’s smith burned to the ground.