Beyond the Edge of Dawn (23 page)

To the Ruins

The moon hadn’t risen yet, leaving this part of the countryside under a shroud of impenetrable darkness. Heavy clouds choked the skies. Even if the half moon did come up before they entered the ruins, Kavan doubted it would do much good. Visibility would still be restricted. He knew from experience that werebeasts had better night vision, making them almost supreme nighttime hunters.

Leaving Rantis didn’t pose much of a problem. The people tended to mind their own business when the sun dropped, especially after the killings began. There was a decided pall over the capital of Aradain. Kavan had little doubt that whoever was behind this growing nightmare intended on subjugating the entire population. Before their task was ended, he knew he was going to have to find that person and eliminate him.

They passed the last pair of unobservant sentries and continued north. Kavan got the feeling they were being followed not long after taking the king’s road. He halted periodically to see if he could hear anything or catch the glimmer of movement in the growing darkness. Each time yielded nothing. He wasn’t going crazy, but between them all, one of them should have been able to confirm his suspicions.

Geblin eased his pony up alongside Kavan. The Gnome had a sour look. It was the same Kavan remembered seeing back in the swamp. Not good, his eyes said.

The knights rode on, Mabane whimpering from his spot behind Barum. They’d feared he’d turn and run if he had his own horse, leaving them in a tight spot. Kavan had all but tied him to the saddle. Sober and terrified, Mabane was in no condition to help himself. The faces of those who had died the day his arm was taken haunted him. Too many times, he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut and burrow into Barum’s back as they inched closer to the ruins.

Barum suppressed his scowl and kept riding. He was angered by the decision but understood the necessity. A grown man scared witless could have easily overpowered Geblin and betrayed them all. Even so, his most valuable weapon was rendered useless as long as Mabane rode with him.

The road was relatively smooth and easily traversable. Built long before Eglios, the road was one of the most advanced in the west. Kavan was impressed and would have been more if he’d never visited the great cities in the east. The ground gradually sloped up, the terrain becoming rugged. Vegetation died away as if wiped clean by some dark plague. Fragile bits of moonlight escaped through the cloud cover to deliver glimpses of a violent landscape where all life had died. Bones were sprinkled among the rock and stone.

I hope the oracle was right, or this is all for naught
.

The clip-clop of hooves drummed a lonely beat. It was the only sound in the still of the night. Not even the wind seemed to have the courage to blow here. Kavan halted them a half an hour later. He turned to see Barum pointing to the edge of the next rise. Kavan nodded and slipped from his saddle. He drew his sword as Aphere and Geblin followed him. Only Geblin had one of the ordered crossbows. Phirial and Nik hadn’t been able to finish the others in time.

Kavan helped Mabane dismount and then pulled him close. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, just over this rise,” he whispered.

“Keep him here, and keep him quiet,” Kavan ordered Barum.

The squire nodded. “For how long?”

“Two hours, and then we head back.”

He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. If they weren’t back in two hours time, they would be dead. The trio set off with grim looks. At last, after weeks and months on the road, they were finally about to lay eyes upon a place of nightmares. Kavan crawled up the sloped, spying the glow of torchlight flickering below. They weren’t alone. He stayed the others and moved a little closer to investigate.

The area below was beyond ruined. Broken pillars lay strewn everywhere. Time and the elements had not been kind. Any decorations had long since worn away from the handful of buildings above ground. His gaze was drawn to the far side and the gaping mouth of the cavern entrance. Torches lined the path, giving him concern.

At first, Kavan didn’t see anything. He focused and looked harder. Two werebeasts lurked just inside the cavern mouth, as if they were pulling guard. They were killing machines, but he wouldn’t have thought any power could make them tamable. Were the knights already too late? He didn’t dare risk attacking and possibly disturbing an untold number of creatures within. Kavan turned back before he was caught

He’d barely taken a step when his boot slipped on a trickle of loose pebbles. Kavan slid nearly twenty feet down the slope before he managed to stop. By then, it was too late. A howl rang up from the ruins. He cursed his carelessness. It wouldn’t take the werebeasts long to find him.

“Back to the horses,” he growled through his teeth.

Geblin readied his crossbow.

“What is it?” Aphere asked. She was already on her feet.

“Werebeasts. Two of them.”

Another howl rang out, haunting in the gentle glow of torchlight. A second followed quickly, but from a distance. They’d been discovered. Small clouds of dust marked the werebeasts’ passing. The howls grew closer. Kavan knew there wasn’t any more reason for stealth.

“Run!” he shouted.

There was still a hundred meters separating them from Barum and the horses. They weren’t going to make it. Heavy footsteps shook the ground. Geblin let out a startled cry as the werebeast leapt over the rise, fingers and claws extended. Tripping over his own feet, Geblin fired as he fell. The shaft struck the werebeast in the shoulder with a sickening thud.

Kavan shouted again, “Barum! Your bow!”

The squire was already ahead of him. He loosed the first shaft and had a second nocked before Kavan opened his mouth. Mabane knelt, cowering at Barum’s feet. He held his hand tightly to his face. Tears streamed from between fingers. Mabane was so engrossed in his own terror that he failed to see Barum’s arrows strike the werebeast in the center of the chest.

The force of the impacts drove the beast from its feet, sending the massive body tumbling down the slope end over end. Kavan didn’t hesitate. He charged down after it, bellowing ancient Gaimosian battle oaths. He heard the signature snapping of bones. The very sound boiled his blood into a rage. Kavan jumped down onto the fallen monster and attacked.

Sword stabbed and slashed. Claws raked the air in a desperate attempt to survive. Blood and fur flew upwards. Kavan’s assault was furious with no signs of slowing. He stabbed down a final time with all of the strength he possessed and was rewarded by piercing the werebeast’s heart. It convulsed once and let out a hideous, almost Human rattle before dying.

Kavan struggled to his feet, knowing the second beast was near. “Quickly. There is another.”

He and Aphere broke into an open run before noticing Geblin limping.

“It’s just a sprain. Don’t worry about me,” he said as Kavan returned for him.

The second werebeast exploded from the shadows just as they gained the horses. Fortunately, Geblin was short, and the beast sailed over him as he fell. His pony gave a strangled scream as the werebeast bowled it to the ground, wasting valuable time ripping out the pony’s throat. That mistake proved costly. Aphere and Kavan took turns hacking it to pieces. The werebeast died without a sound.

Knowing time was short, they cross-loaded the equipment from the dead pony and helped Geblin into place behind Aphere.

“We must flee before more come,” Kavan told them. “Back to Rantis, now.”

The Gaimosians took off into the night, leaving the dead rotting behind.

Audience with the King

“We’ve caught and executed another three Fist mercenaries,” General Moncrieff told the assembly.

Corso offered an obligatory smile. Three fewer souls capable of ruining his plans.

“Surely those damned Fist will have taken the hint and left Aradain by now,” Eglios said.

“Yet they have not,” Corso added.

The king slammed a fist on the table. “How many men do we have to kill before they give up?”

“Milord, the Fist are as relentless as they are ruthless. It could be necessary to slay them to the last,” Moncrieff stated.

Moncrieff was a bear of a man. He had a massive barrel chest and thick arms and legs. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped. He had a hard, unforgiving face. Moncrieff was every bit the soldier. He’d paid his dues, starting as a junior ranker and working up through the ranks. When, at last, he’d made general, Eglios had used him like an iron rod. The victory over neighboring Barduk was heaped upon his shoulders while doing little to serve Moncrieff’s interests. He was the type of battlefield leader who found victory in how few men he lost, not treasure or glory.

“Drive them from my city. Push them back across the Spine. I want them to fear the kingdom of Aradain and Eglios.”

“Doing so may prove more difficult than we previously believed. Most have already gone underground, splintering into small cells.”

Corso added, “Milord, the Fist no longer have valid reason for remaining in Aradain. I fear an assassination attempt is imminent.”

“They wouldn’t dare. I am the sitting monarch of a rising kingdom. My death would spark a purge on scales unimaginable,” Eglios sneered.

Moncrieff grunted. “The Fist are ruthless. Regicide would not be below them. If they have already targeted the throne, there is but one way to stop them. Let me send hunter teams throughout the kingdom to wipe them out.”

“I don’t feel that is wise,” Corso cautioned.

Eglios glared down on his minister with menace. “Interesting advice considering this is all your fault. You brought these mercenaries here and then lost control. Were I a lesser man, your head would be on a pike in the corner of my throne room.”

Rage echoed from the walls. It was at that moment Eglios realized he’d been complacent for too long. The time had come to retake his kingdom and become the ruler his father had envisioned.

“General Moncrieff, I want these assassins out of my kingdom,” he ordered in a threatening tone that left little to the imagination.

Moncrieff bowed. “Is there any particular method you prefer?”

“Kill them. Arrest them. I don’t care which. Just drive them from my borders so we can return to the task at hand.”

Eglios turned his back on them and gazed longingly out the window. Saluting sharply, Moncrieff spun and left.

“You’re still here,” Eglios said after hearing the clang of shutting doors. “I figured you’d be in a rush to leave.”

“There is one more matter requiring your attention.” His voice was calm, measured.

“That being?”

Corso cleared his throat in a false display of submission. “The Gaimosian knight will be here shortly.”

Eglios turned. “Which Gaimosian? You’ve overrun my kingdom with murderers and fallen warriors. I’m beginning to think you’re trying to depose me and steal the throne for yourself.”

Corso ignored the barb. It wouldn’t do to rise to the bait. “The knight who stopped the robbery in the marketplace. He should be here shortly.”

“To be proclaimed a hero of the realm,” he smirked. “I want him thoroughly checked for weapons. He does not enter the palace grounds with so much as a dagger.”

“Sire, we should consider using him to our advantage.”

Eglios paused. He was a practical man at heart as well as an aspiring politician. Times often dictated the path of his career. Wolves prowled the shadows of his kingdom, forcing him to act now. “This plan of yours leaves great doubt,” the king admitted.

“All plans have inherent fallacies. You are forgetting that no one has yet to return successful from the ruins. This is almost too perfect.”

“Your scheming will be the death of me yet,” Eglios said after a moment’s thought. “Very well. Bring him before me. I’ll have his audience and then a great feast to reassure the people. You can take him after that.”

Corso bowed shrewdly. “As you wish.”

“Oh, and Corso,” Eglios called as his advisor walked away. “After tonight, I don’t ever want to see that man alive again.”

Corso finally let his thin smile crease his face. “Naturally.”

Pirneon spent the better part of the day preparing for his audience with the king. He felt good finally being recognized, though grave trepidations lingered with the banquet. His last invitation hadn’t turned out very well. The prospect of being honored won over reason, however. He’d been forced to live in the shadows for too long. Once again, the glory of Gaimos was given the chance to flourish. Pirneon relished the thought of speaking to the monarch. As Knight Marshal, he’d met countless politicians and ruling kings. Most wound up turning on him before the end.

He hummed softly to himself as he meticulously polished his sword and armor. Tamblin had helped trim his lanky hair and beard. Being with her made him happy, an emotion he’d feared was lost to him. For the briefest amount of time, he felt alive. He’d forgotten about his comrades and their foolish quest based on an oracle’s whim. He occasionally missed Barum, ever the faithful and diligent squire. Barum was going to make an excellent knight. Just not at his side.

Pirneon made one of the most important decisions he could have. It was time to cut loose the trappings of his old life and become the patriarch to a new dawn. Destiny commanded he rise to a man of greater importance than the pitiful shell he was now. Smiling broadly, he fondly recalled his last kiss with Tamblin and marched to the palace.

A quad of armed guards, the king’s finest, met him at the grounds entrance to escort him through the stone halls of Castle Aradain. The captain of the guard, a thin, pale man with gaunt features, proceeded to have him strip away his weapons. Pirneon did so, albeit hesitantly. Any nerves were calmed with the knowledge that a Gaimosian Knight was a weapon in itself.

“Wait here while I announce you,” the captain said. When he returned, Pirneon caught the sly look in his eyes. “Enter. The king of Aradain awaits.”

Pirneon strode past with an air of arrogance. That was all he could do in the situation. Weaponless and braced for treachery, Pirneon fully expected a repeat of his time in the Jebel Desert. He walked confidently into the throne room. Back straight, shoulders arched and chin held high, he showed no trace of coming from a vanquished people.

Eglios, Corso, and Moncrieff watched impassively as the Vengeance Knight marched into the throne room. General Moncrieff snorted his opinion. His decades of experience stretched only so far in making him comfortable, especially considering the squad of crossbowmen concealed throughout the room. He looked to the others. If they were impressed, neither showed it. They sat. They watched. They waited.

Finally, Corso eased forward. He was all but a snake in his coal black robes. “Pirneon of Gaimos, Knight Marshal and honored guest of the kingdom of Aradain, I present you to our lord and liege, King Eglios.”

Pirneon halted at the foot of the alabaster throne and bowed crisply. “My lord, it is an honor to be in your presence.”

Eglios gestured with his right hand. “Rise, Knight Marshal. It is you who honor us. My cabinet tells me you had a part to play in stopping less than desirable deeds in the marketplace. My thanks to you for protecting my citizens.”

“Order is the basis upon which the principles of Gaimos were founded. There can be no peace without order,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Indeed. These are perilous times threatening to subsume us all. I’m sure you have heard by now that we are under siege by dark powers?”

“I have, and I also come to bring tidings of hope to the people of Aradain. I have traveled far to fight these fiends. While I shall not bore you with tales of my journey, know that it was perilous and filled with many of these monsters you face. Sire, I am no stranger to their brand of evil, and I have come to pledge my services in the defense of this kingdom, should you have me.”

Eglios listened with half-hearted interest. The words were all lies as far as he was concerned. He struggled to keep from ordering Moncrieff to kill him now. But a king must show compassion when often there is none.

“We gratefully and humbly accept your service. Perhaps this quest shall go a long way in the healing process between the kingdoms of the west,” Eglios said eloquently and rose. “Tonight shall be a grand banquet in your honor. There has been need for celebration of late. I believe our citizens will rejoice to have a true hero among us. In the meantime, I would ask that you meet with my minister, Corso, and General Moncrieff, commander of my armies. They can fill you in on all that has transpired to this point.”

All parties exchanged obviously pained bows. Corso led them away from the king after being summarily dismissed. Eglios had much to consider before the banquet. He trusted no one, especially Corso. More and more, the minister gave the impression of having devious intent. That little fact gave him cause for concern over Moncrieff’s loyalty as well.

A dark plan hatched on his way back to his chambers. He’d heard of such a thing being done before, mostly rumors of great men willing to sacrifice for the greater good of their lands. Peasants often referred to such men as tyrants. Eglios shook his head. They were all close-minded people too absorbed in their trivial lives to understand. Yes, he decided, perhaps the leadership of Aradain could stand for a purge.