Beyond the Edge of Dawn (27 page)

The Hunt

Rantis was alive. Trumpets and drums boomed loudly over the roar of the gathered crowds. The smells of cooked food filled the air, enticing hungry stomachs. Today was the commencement of the hunt, what the people hoped was the last. Knights, squires, bounty hunters, soldiers, and the average man seeking glory filled the palace parade grounds — close to three hundred, in all.

The people cheered as the parade lurched forward, winding through the city. Flags and pennants waved from the tallest buildings and most windows. The heroes drank it in. never before had any experienced such a sendoff. Most had barely seen twenty summers. The few that had were old, long in the tooth. Weapons of every sort could be spotted under heavy coats or strapped across gambesons. Rusted armor of veterans mingled with the almost polished leather of the young. These weren’t the best, or even the bravest, but they were all willing to end the tyrannical threat assaulting Aradain — for the right price. naturally.

Eglios sat upon the throne. His crown was heavy, much as it always was on this fatal day. His mind was cluttered with the hopes that this would be the last time he needed to send innocent men into harm’s way so that his kingdom might be set free. Eglios closed his eyes and prayed.

“Sire,” Corso interrupted from the doorway. “It is time to greet the hunters.”

“Of course,” he replied without conviction.

The king rose wearily. His hair was mostly silver now. The lightning bolt on his crimson breast had lost much luster. Eglios donned his black cloak. It was heavier. He suddenly felt very old, almost used up. “Perhaps we won’t have need for this again.”

Corso remained stoic. “I have a feeling we’ll find success, sire. All of the signs are right. We can’t lose, not with the eclipse about to happen.”

Eglios didn’t bother with the explanation. He’d been told the same thing for months now, and nothing changed. No matter how many times Corso sought to reassure him, he still cringed under a nagging despair. He knew, deep in the corners of his mind, that Aradain was doomed. But why? His enemies had gone. The Fist was on the run, and the Gaimosians were all but disappeared. Even that pompous Pirneon had gone off to the black pit.

So why do I wake up with dread each morning
? His sense of wrongness grew. Eglios slowly walked across the throne room. Sunlight streaked lines of light through the enormous windows but offered no warmth. He always felt so alone on this day. The world seemed to have abandoned him.

“Are you all right, sire?” Corso asked.

Concern steeled the king’s face. “I’m tired, Corso. Tired of all this. Tired of sending people I don’t know off to die in a struggle we are blind to.”

“Sometimes the most difficult task for a ruler is to risk the lives of his people for the greater good of the kingdom.”

“How many have to die before it’s enough, or too much?” Eglios asked.

“I don’t have that answer. This will soon pass. The future will turn this all into a distant memory.”

Placing his hand on Corso’s shoulder, Eglios said, “You are a good friend. I could not have asked for a better minister. Come, let us pay our respects to these brave few.”

Corso closed the door behind them.
All too easy
.

Moncrieff met them at the end of the granite-tiled hall. He was in his finest dress uniform, complete with ornamental saber. Escorting the hunters to the pit was normally his function, this proving to be the one exception. Eglios knew of his true mission, had approved it himself, if but hesitantly.

“Sire,” Moncrieff bowed. Rows of medals jingled softly as he moved. “The assembly awaits.”

Eglios nodded. “Is all else ready?”

“Preparations will be finished by evening. Some of the scouting elements have already pushed out. The main body marches at dawn.”

“The same as our hunters.”

Moncrieff replied, “Yes, sire. I have one battalion of the House Guard dispatched to escort detail. They should arrive at the forward camp unimpeded.”

He didn’t say what they both thought. Once the guards finished escorting the hunters to the camp, their task was complete. The hunters were on their own.

“Very well. Let’s go and bid our well wishes to this latest batch,” Eglios said. Some of his old confidence was returning.

A pair of guards, Damos and Kern, dressed in the house colors of crimson and black, snapped to attention as the king marched by. He’d always made a point of knowing his people by name. They were charged with defending the throne, and he could think of no better gift to bestow upon them.

Eglios stepped onto the second floor balcony to the cacophony of cheers and whistles. Doves were released from the surrounding roofs. Horns blared out. The crowds cheered louder in one of the few times they had to feel good. The blanket of repression hung low over most. Though each of the previous hunts had ended with despair, the people felt that this was the time the enemy would be broken and evil defeated. They cheered and didn’t stop until long after Eglios raised his hands for silence.

“Good people of Rantis,” he began. “Friends of Aradain and brave souls from across the world, I welcome you to this once proud kingdom in the hopes you will soon liberate us from the dark stain. All of you know our plight. An ancient evil has come to claim us. Our people are hunted and killed. They disappear in the middle of the night. We’ve tried, the gods know we’ve tried, to put an end to this menace ourselves. We were found wanting.

“I organized the hunts as a way for the best and bravest in the world to take up arms and win both honor and glory. This is the most holy of crusades. All you need do is reach forth and claim your glory. Do you seek it?”

The youngest, most influenced, of the crowd cheered, brandishing swords and pikes. Again, the people of Rantis cheered. Eglios almost felt it.

“Do you seek riches?” he shouted.

The very foundations of the palace shook.

“Then go forth in the name of all that is just and right, and stake your claim in the annals of history. Each of you who brings me the head of one werebeast shall receive enough gold and gems to become a king yourself! Go! Go now, and may your blades strike true!”

The hunters filed out of the parade grounds under the intense cheers of the people. Flowers and incense were thrown at them. The sun was bright, shining. The day was perfect. Hope filled the city. Today just might be the day. Eglios watched them go. He wanted to believe, but past experience forced him to think otherwise.

“You have doubts, sire?” Corso asked above the roar.

“When does a king not? There are days when I feel the world is against me. I often wonder why the gods chose us for this calamity. But the gods do not answer. This is a cursed time we live in.”

“Your words were strong, inspiring.”

Eglios snorted. “Pure drivel. This hunt will fail just like all of the others. Of that, I am certain. I pray, General, that our armies are as up to the task of removing the threat in Kalad Tol as the hunters believe they are in the ruins.”

“Have no fear, sire. The outcome is all but decided. We have but to march, and the deed is done,” Moncrieff said confidently.

“Good. Once it is complete, I want you to swing north to the ruins and finish this once and for all. Kill any that get in your way, and bring the mountain down on top of the cavern. This kingdom will be free again. Good day, gentlemen.”

Eglios left them to their business. He had much to prepare for and so little time. Moncrieff took his leave as well, letting Corso stand and watch the last of the departing hunters. He gently punched his fist into the railing. Eglios was beginning to act impulsively. He threatened all Corso had worked so hard for without realizing it. Five more days until Corso was freed of the pathetic ministrations of Aradain. After that, they’d all kneel before him.

Corso wasted no time stealing away from Aradain. His own work took him back to the obsidian tower.
Let Eglios do as he wishes. None of it matters. Fire and darkness will soon dominate this kingdom. Pain and suffering will be delivered upon them all. This is my hour
. His anger lessened by the time he reached the tower.

A pair of werebeasts snarled dangerously as he exited the tunnel. Hidden expertly, they kept those unfortunates who’d stumbled into the forest from entering the tower. Corso ignored them. Once the best and bravest in the world, they were now his willing servants. Corso climbed to his private sanctum, pausing only when he spied the small river of blood trickling from beneath the door. He smiled and went in. The beast that had been Pirneon stood over the freshly murdered Tamblin. Blood covered his mouth and chin.

Heroes Gather

Guards raised the alarm the instant Kavan and his group were within range of Kalad Tol. Men hastily dressed in full armor. Pharanx Gorg strode purposefully to the wall. His eyes blazed with focus. It was only a matter of time before either Kavan or Moncrieff found them. The mercenary captain glanced up to the endless blue sky. Today was a good day for battle.

“Riders approaching, sir,” the sergeant of the guard announced.

“Give me the glass.”

Wurz, a stout, violent Dwarf, offered, “Might be scouts. That or Moncrieff’s sent a party to talk us into surrender.”

Looking through the glass, Pharanx told his second in command, “Sorry to disappoint you, lieutenant, but it’s just the Gaimosians, with a few extras. Open the gates. We’ve got company.”

“Aradain is coming apart. Minister Corso seems to be running his own secret police, doing as he wants under the protection of the king. Assassinations, murder, arson. I think this is just the beginning,” Kavan told those assembled.

Pharanx asked, “Has the army deployed?”

“We don’t know.”

Wurz scratched his dark brown beard. “It’s a safe bet they have. We’ve already killed a good number of scouts. The bastards are coming.”

“I agree. The attack will come soon. With the hunt beginning, they’ll have the perfect cover to mobilize. No one will question the deployment.”

“Convenient for Eglios,” Aphere said. “No questions means no explanations.”

Kavan added, “This kingdom suffers from rot. Perhaps we should turn our focus towards weeding it out once we’re done with Gessun Thune.”

“That leads us to a dangerous place,” Aphere cautioned. “We fight wars for people, not to overthrow declining monarchs.”

“We owe the people of Aradain a new freedom. I’d expect no less from any of you,” Kavan retorted.

Pharanx disagreed. “She’s right, Kavan. None of us came here to remove Eglios. For all we know, he has the support of the kingdom. Politics are not our business.”

“You’re all mad!” Mabane exclaimed.

Pharanx barked a quick laugh. “Indeed we are. You tell me. You’re a citizen of Aradain; are you satisfied with the way your kingdom is ruled? How much has that arm cost you in life?”

“I’m still loyal,” Mabane said, some of the fire burning out.

“Are you?”

Pharanx had a malicious grin. For all of his bold words, Mabane knew he was outmatched. He felt like weeping inside. He wasn’t half the man he used to be. Somewhere along the desolate path of his life, he’d lost the very core of what made him a man. Mabane’s alcohol abuse left him hollow. His friends deserved more. His kingdom deserved more. He deserved more.

Mabane stood slowly and leveled his gaze at the mercenary. “I am a man of Aradain. I know I’m not what I once was, but neither would you be if you saw half of what I did. I’m no great warrior or descended from an ancient land. I’m just a man. Do what you have to do, and leave our kingdom in peace.”

He left them in stunned silence, having spoken his piece. Satisfaction made him walk taller, each step proud. Let the killers speak and plot of usurpers or death. He wanted no part in it. He’d help them with their task and do his part in ending the werebeast threat, but after that, he intended on striking out to reclaim what was lost.

Pharanx Gorg waited for the door to close before saying, “I think I’m going to like that man.”

Kavan found Mabane sitting alone in the mess. A plate of half-eaten roasted desert lizard sat before him, accompanied by a still full mug of ale. Mabane spied him coming and stiffened reflexively. This was a moment when he needed to be alone.

“Strong words,” Kavan said as he sat.

Mabane shrugged. “I said what needed saying.”

“There are too few men like that in the world.”

“I don’t care about your crusade, Kavan. The moment this is ended, you’ll never see me again.”

Kavan sighed. “It’s not my crusade. Destiny handpicked us all. We are the agents of the gods, for good or bad. That’s not why I’m here.”

“What reason, then?”

“Something wrong with your ale?” Kavan asked.

Mabane cut off a laugh. “This is piss water.”

They sat in silence for a moment. One struggled with what to say while the other tried to find a way to avoid the conversation entirely.

“I know what it means to lose everything,” Kavan finally spoke. “A family. A home. My people had it all taken from us. Folk talk about how evil we were, how corrupt. In truth, we Gaimosians were just like the rest of you. We only wanted to be left alone.”

“This qualifies as being left alone?” Mabane mocked.

“There will come a day when the hatred fades, when the vengeance in our souls doesn’t burn so bright. You lost your arm and your best friend. Hundreds more lost their lives, for what? So a crazed king can sit there and feel good about himself because he believes he’s doing the right thing?” He shook his head. “This is a world that cares nothing about people like us, Mabane. You know that, though you may have forgotten it. All we can do is try to make it a little better in the time we are allotted. That’s it, nothing more. In the end, we all turn to dust.”

Kavan rose to leave. He made it to the door before Mabane’s weak voice stopped him. “Kavan?”

He turned.

“Thank you.”

Kavan nodded. “Enjoy your piss water.”

“They’re moving at last,” Pharanx confirmed.

It was already midmorning. Tension filled Kalad Tol. All of them had been in battles before, but waiting for a siege to begin inspired thoughts of desertion. Even the Gaimosians began to feel the pinch of being trapped.

“The hunters are en route to the ruins. Moncrieff should be here by dusk.”

Kavan stared out across the supple, rolling hills of northeastern Aradain. It was so unlike the bog-mired south. He could almost see this as home. “Do we know how large his army is?”

“My scouts say close to three thousand,” Wurz answered gruffly.

“Three thousand! This is suicide,” Mabane exclaimed.

Kavan swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “He’s right. We can’t possibly win against a force that size.”

Pharanx flashed a grin. Brown teeth gleamed. “You’d be surprised.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Kavan secretly hoped the Fist proved more capable against regular army soldiers than they did against a handful of Gaimosians. He passed Geblin a fleeting look. For his part, the Gnome seemed to accept their circumstances remarkably well.

Encouraged by the sudden uplift of spirits, Pharanx explained. “This fortress is old, with strong roots. We’ve inspected the walls, and it will take much to bring them down. I have two engineers in my command who have been tasked with reinforcing the outer structure.”

“That still doesn’t give us much support for holding off an entire army,” Aphere said.

Wurz scoffed. “We have a trick for that. Bastards will wish they never came against us.”

“It’ll take a dragon to beat them,” Barum commented.

Pharanx stood. His bronze skin and scar-covered muscle frame dominated the center of the room. “Follow me. I need to show you something.”

Geblin hopped down from his stool and fell in beside Kavan. He looked up and muttered, “If it’s a dragon, I’m going home.”

The Gaimosians stood with mouths agape, still unsure of what they were looking at. Pharanx and his commanders stood beside them looking smug.

“As you can see, formidable, but not quite a dragon.”

Kavan found his voice first. “What are they? I’ve never seen such creatures.”

“They are called dactyls. Remnants from an earlier age, or so I’m told.”

The leathery creature nearest them craned an elongated head and studied them closely. It had large, intelligent eyes capable of seeing in almost a full circle. Three clawed fingers flexed at the ends of enormous wings.

“Where do they come from?” Aphere asked.

Pharanx caught her look, that impulsive desire to reach out and touch the orange tinged scales. He smiled as he reached out to stroke the dactyl’s neck. “They only bite if they think you’re food. But, alas, there is no place on these shores for them. They come from across the sea, on the island of Chrysrar. A tribe of men called Tamers raise and breed them within a dormant volcano.”

Aphere followed his lead and tentatively stretched her hand out. The dactyl squawked and twisted it’s head. “How did you find them?”

“He likes you,” Pharanx smiled. “I hired a trader to take us across the sea. A quality organization such as ours is always looking for new prospects. The price was steep, but it balanced out. They are invaluable in terms of aerial reconnaissance and attacks.”

Kavan looked up sharply. “That would explain how you managed to track us so easily.”

“Tricks of the trade. Mercenaries need every possible advantage.”

“They are most certainly not tricks.”

They looked past the dactyl to see a tall man, thin and gaunt, with skin the color of coal and long braids of hair. His accent was so thick, it was difficult to understand.

“Ah,” Pharanx said. “This is M’kele. He is our Tamer expert. They wouldn’t part with their precious beasts without a permanent presence among us. M’kele maintains them as best he can, given the circumstances.”

“I do not approve your designs, Captain,” M’kele snapped.

“Those being?” Kavan asked.

“Aside from the terror factor? My men can rain spears and arrows down on the enemy long before they approach the castle. We have twenty-four more dactyls awaiting my command in a makeshift camp a league east of here.”

“It will take more than spears and arrows to break an army so large,” Kavan replied. Skepticism overrode his growing sense of optimism.

Pharanx said, “Leave that to us. By the time our task is done, the enemy shall fear us until their dying day.”

Kavan doubted that would be the case but knew when to keep his opinion to himself. He’d been around a long time but could still be caught by surprise every once in a while. Besides, he had more important issues to deal with. The armies of Aradain were only half of the whole issue. Eglios could throw his forces against these ancient walls all he wanted, but as long as the ruins of Gessun Thune remained exposed, all of Malweir lay in danger.

Pharanx continued, “We have enough projectiles to hold them off, and my men are ready for payback. This will be a glorious battle sung for decades. And with a handful of Gaimosian Knights at our side, how can we lose?”

“We can’t stay,” Kavan told him. “I’d like to, but we’ve been set to task. This battle is the sideshow. We’ve got to reach the ruins and stop the greater evil.”

“That is…regrettable. You’ve proven your skill and prowess to us on more than one occasion. The men would benefit from fighting alongside you.”

“We’d be glad to do it. This kingdom has offered great insult. Eglios and his minister are like a plague upon the land. The oracle, however, was specific. We are the only ones who stand a chance at ending this turmoil.”

The mercenary captain folded his arms and nodded gravely. “A harsh task, indeed. Whatever support you need from us yours to ask.”

Kavan felt some of the tension leave. Allies now, the Fist could divert Aradain’s forces long enough to give the Gaimosians a fighting chance. Numbers were against them both, but the sliver of hope refused to fade.

“My thanks,” he said.

“When do you plan on leaving?” Pharanx pressed.

Kavan exhaled a breath he’d forgotten he was holding. “Only four days remain before the eclipse. We must be in Gessun Thune before then.”

“What then?”

Kavan stopped, the question catching him off guard. The oracle had told them to go to the ruins but never mentioned exactly how they were supposed to stop the enemy from releasing the dark gods. He doubted the task would be so simple as killing the man responsible. He admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Oracles are tricky business. Damned things can’t come out and say what needs saying.”

“Agreed,” Aphere cut in. She alone bore the burden of the oracle’s prophecy.

Clasping Kavan’s shoulder, Pharanx said, “Trust the oracle. You may well be the hope of us all. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to take a swipe at the bastard, though.”

“That didn’t turn out so well,” Aphere added.

Kavan grinned at the memory. “We can’t risk getting trapped here when Aradain arrives. We must leave as soon as possible.”

“Tonight. Once the sun sets. How many men will you need?”

Kavan hadn’t expected the offer but readily accepted. “Two or three should suffice.”

“What?” Aphere exclaimed.

Pharanx laughed again. “You are mad, my friend.”

Kavan defended himself. “No. It makes sense. We stand a better chance of slipping in undetected now that the hunt has begun. There’s no call for drawing attention.”