A Whisper After Midnight (35 page)

Amar killed because he could. With a thought he snapped necks or shattered minds. He reveled in the anticipation of ruining lives. All of the people who had wronged him in his previous life became victims. Their bodies hung from the branches of large oak trees until they’d been picked clean to the bone. Even that wasn’t enough. He kept their souls and tormented them every day for years. He thought he might find satisfaction but remained hollow inside. Their deaths were comparatively insignificant given his knowledge of the universe. Time and space were limitless, as was his ability to redefine everything he knew.

Torment became his favorite tool. He twisted and shaped minds into creatures so devolved from their Humanity. They became crawling deviants willing to do his foulest bidding. The power swelled his head. Amar Kit’han could do no wrong. He executed the will of the dark gods with ruthless enthusiasm. The only possible hindrance was the greed of his comrades.

“Badron has lost his army,” Kodan Bak hissed as he entered the cold chamber.

Amar Kit’han didn’t bother turning. His red eyes continued to stare off into the night, relishing the feeling of total oblivion soothing the cavity where his soul had been. “It was but a matter of time. He still has the Goblin army at his side.”

“Goblins aren’t much better than dirt dwellers. They will not be enough to accomplish what we need.”

“What do we need, Kodan Bak?” Amar snapped. Power whipped from his shadows, cracking the walls and bringing part of the ceiling down around them. “New leadership perhaps? How you’d enjoy seeing me removed so that you might assume the role. The gods did not choose you though, did they? You were found lacking, weak. Unworthy of their greatest gifts. Remember your place, before it is you who finds the short path to nonexistence.”

Energy rippled around the Dae’shan in waves, distorting the air with rancor and spite. “You know of what I speak, Amar Kit’han. We were charged with bringing ruin to the northern kingdoms. Badron cannot continue his campaign without his army. Goblins have their uses but they are few.”

“Indeed, but there is more at work. Pelthit Re spreads corruption across Delranan. That kingdom is the key to all of our plans. It must be in total chaos by the appointed hour. I did not expect him to turn the One Eye so easily to our will, nor the results. Pelthit Re should be commended.”

“Delranan already slides towards irreversible doom,” Kodan offered. “But it is not enough. With the Wolfsreik free of Badron’s influence they will stand in our way. My spies confirm they have already linked up with the remnants of Rogscroft’s army and the Pell Darga. Their leader refused to succumb to corruption.”

“Do we know what his plans are?” Amar asked.

“There are whispers that he intends to take his army back to Delranan to put an end to the One Eye’s tyranny.”

Amar floated higher. The Wolfsreik had become a major problem, whether he chose to admit that to Kodan Bak or not. There was no way his forces could defeat the combined strength of three armies, no matter how many Goblins Grugnak managed to funnel in to Rogscroft. The war for the north threatened to sour.

“Perhaps it is time for a new direction,” he finally said.

“What do you mean? We cannot stop now. The hour is almost upon us and we have yet to find and prepare the temple at Arlevon Gale. And what of the wizard? He has grown most worrisome. More is needed to halt his progress, if not stop him altogether.”

Amar desperately wanted to forget about Anienam Keiss. The wizard was a poison. “How that old fool has managed to avoid being ensnared in our traps for so long confuses me. We have tried for so long to remove the Mages and their ilk yet he persists. He’s been relatively harmless until now. I have no reason to believe he is capable of changing suddenly. Still, he has the potential to bring us all to ruin.”

“He’s assembled a powerful band of allies,” Kodan suggested.

“Pah! Would-be heroes. We have seen their like before. One of them always cracks and brings darkness to the group. It is only a matter of time before we can achieve similar results.”

“But the Giant…”

“Is of no consequence. He is a boy by their standards and ignorant of the true ways of the world. He will not live long enough to wield the Blud Hamr.”

Kodan’s robes swirled, billowing out briefly. “If they reach Trennaron and Artiss Gran we will not find it so easy to kill them.”

“Artiss Gran has lived for far too long. His treason will be dealt with shortly. Even now he feels his powers wane. Trennaron was never meant to be a bastion of hope. He will fail and fall into disgrace. Perhaps I shall keep him around like these Humans keep whipped dogs.”

“He was once one of us,” Kodan said. “His powers remain so long as the Dae’shan do.”

“Not enough to save him from my wrath. Enough of him. Artiss Gran had his uses but was found wanting. The dark gods will abuse him in ways he could never dream. I will deal with him personally, but there is time. Our focus must stay on Delranan. The kingdom stands on the brink but is not yet ready to fall. Perhaps a change of strategy is required.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Amar grinned, savage and ruthless. “We bring the kingdom to its knees, so low it will never recover. Only then will it be prepared to receive the dark gods. Bring me the prisoners.”

Plague

Night had fallen on Delranan. The hard working citizens of Chadra, those still able to work and go about their daily lives, shuffled back to their homes or, for those still single, to their favorite taverns or inns for a hearty meal and cold mead. Armed patrols marched through the streets enforcing Harnin’s law. A strict curfew had been established for three hours after sunset. There were no exceptions. Jails were filled with law breakers. Others were beaten badly enough they didn’t get caught again. Those few who managed to avoid the soldiers continued to tempt fate.

Word of the raid on the rebellion’s headquarters spread much too quickly to be coincidence. Harnin’s agents spread a talented mixture of truth and propaganda even before the raid took place. Many civilians believed the rebellion had been decapitated and left aimless in the gutters. Others didn’t care. Some, some knew the truth and continued to fight. One thing was certain. The recent raid practically finished the rebellion’s raids. Any effective form of fighting or communication was cut off. It was only a matter of time before the end.

Private Ragnar sheathed his sword and removed his heavy metal helmet. He’d spent the last eight hours patrolling Chadra and was looking forward to a good meal and perhaps a little attention from one of the Women working the floor of Felt’s tonight. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, though for Woman or food he wasn’t decided. The rest of his four-man team entered the Felt and assumed their usual table in the center of the common room. The atmosphere wasn’t one he looked forward to. It stank of heavy smoke and old vomit and had seen better days. The walls were stained from decades of smoke and half of the floorboards were rotted. Still, the foot was decent and so were the Women.

“Damned cold out tonight,” Ragnar said as he leaned back in his chair.

Sergeant Belk agreed. “Colder than a frostbitten she-bitch. Not the sort of night we need to be out in.”

The others nodded. After all, he was the one giving orders. A long-haired blond who had seen better days and was a little heavier than the year before ambled up to them with her usual perfunctory smile. “Lads, what will it be?”

“Helga! Fair maiden of the Felt,” Belk said loudly. “Just the sight of your bosom fills me with warmth.”

She slapped his reaching hand away. “That’ll not get you as warm as you think, scoundrel. Ales?”

“Ales and roast mutton and bread,” he said glumly.

Ragnar piped in, “And yellow cheese. I’m hungry tonight.”

Helga gave him a wink and walked off. The others immediately turned to the youngest soldier. They bombarded him with so many questions his head started to hurt. It took Belk to get them calm again. Then he took over.

“What’s all that about, lad? She got something for you?”

Ragnar grinned sheepishly. He didn’t know but wasn’t averse to finding out. A woman like that would keep him warm all night.

The door burst open and a bedraggled-looking man limped to the bar. Those few patrons smart enough to look away did so at once. Those less fortunate found themselves helplessly attracted to the inevitable confrontation. Belk gestured Ragnar to follow and they took up seats on either side of the newcomer. The man coughed violently. His entire body spasmed. A tiny trickle of blood seeped from his nose.

“What happened to you, friend?” Belk tried to ask seriously. He already figured the man had run into another patrol.
Probably Tor’s by the look of him
.

Coughing almost uncontrollably, the man gave Belk a deadpan stare. Belk shifted back with shock. He looked into eyes the darkest red, sunken and shallow. The man’s face bore a haunted sheen. His skin was grey, like boiled meat. Small, dark spots speckled his exposed flesh. Belk had never seen the like. Then the man coughed in his face.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Ragnar snapped. “You’ll lose your head for that.”

The stranger turned slowly, fixing Ragnar with a baleful glare. He smiled once, coughed, and fell dead at their feet.

Ragnar rolled off of Helga, covered in sweat and grinning like a child. He hadn’t had that much fun since before the Wolfsreik marched to war and it felt good. Helga yawned and stretched. The moment was lost on her. He was another customer and she was closer to getting off of her shift.

“A could get used to having a woman like you around,” he said, placing his hands behind his head.

Helga looked back over her shoulder as she slid from the bed. “You’re a good boy, but a bit young for my tastes. It was fun giving you a ride though.”

A damned sight more than fun. I’ve half a mind to ask for your hand
. Ragnar chuckled at the thought. That’s when he first noticed the slight burning sensation deep in his lungs. He idly reached up and rubbed his chest. The burn worsened over the course of the night. By morning both he and Helga would be dead. Unfortunately Helga managed to slip from the room and go back to the rest of the girls first.

Belk shut the door to his meager home and went to the dying fire. Shuffling the embers to build more flame, he took a few blocks of wood and tossed them in. Satisfied he’d done enough, he went to check on his children. Belk had five boys and two girls and wanted more. He’d come from a big family, blessed with so few deaths. Having children made sense and eased his burden, allowing him to spend more time doing his job since the reserves got called up to active duty.

He loved his family but the Wolfsreik paid more. Lord Harnin even went so far as to offer bounties for rebellion soldiers. Alive was worth more than dead, but Belk wasn’t that picky. He kept a fat purse and food on the table. Anyone with seven children knew how difficult it was keeping them all fed and clothed. He checked the girls first. Both were curled under heavy blankets and fast asleep. All of the boys but one were also asleep. Belk spoke softly to the lad and closed the door behind him.

What more is there to say than I love you? A good lad. My strongest. He’ll make a fine man.
Belk removed his weapon belt and cloak and yawned. It wasn’t until he collapsed in his favorite chair that he started thinking about what had happened in the tavern. Belk was no stranger to death, but never in such a personal manner. The look of the man’s eyes left Belk haunted. He felt unclean. Contemptible. He didn’t understand what could transform a healthy man into death walking.

Belk stared into the flames. “What happened tonight?”

He would never get the answer. By dawn Sergeant Belk would be dead, along with all but one of his children. His wife left before any of them awoke. Her body was found a short time later in the central market place.

By the end of that first day more than three hundred people were dead. Over a thousand by the end of the week. Panic gripped Chadra. People barricaded themselves inside their homes and refused to come out. Whole families would be found dead once the sickness passed and the final accounting took place. Priests offered prayers to any god they could. Shamans and self-proclaimed hedge sorcerers offered charms of protection. They couldn’t keep enough. People bought them as fast as they could. Anything to protect them. It wasn’t long before that singular word spread, almost as fast as the death toll. Plague. There was no denying a devastating plague now ravaged across Delranan.

Even animals fell victim to the plague. Horses and wild dogs lay dead in the streets. The city stank of rot and of sickness. Chadra devolved into a graveyard. Bodies were stacked along the side of the road. Others stayed where they fell. Those few who were unaffected by the plague reluctantly agreed to take care of the bodies, but they were quickly subsumed with work. Some quit and, packing their belongings, headed for other villages with the hopes that the plague was not there. Yet others drank themselves to sleep nightly.

Harnin One Eye stood atop the parapet of Chadra Keep, staring down on what remained of the capital city. The plague had come from nowhere and all but ruined Delranan in a matter of days. He paced the dark corners of his chambers, waiting, hoping for the Dae’shan to return, but Pelthit Re never did. The sudden absence left Harnin with the feeling something nefarious was at play behind his back.