Curse of The Seventh Sword: The Gauntlet of Feona (22 page)

“Oh Feona help me.” 
Vannera whispered as she kissed him again.   “I love you too.”  Davydd looked back at the wooden plates of food Baximus had brought. 

“Well, my mother’s not eating.  Care for dinner under the stars?”

Vannera smiled. 

“I’d love that.”

Four
soldiers stood in the upper room of a building in the city of Alvo.  There was a nervous tension in the air, and they talked in hushed whispers. On the left shoulder plate of their armor were five skulls.  The only door leading into the room opened up and Ergol stepped in.  The hushed conversations died down and silence enveloped the room for a time.  Ergol looked around the room at all the soldiers.

“I see everyone is here.”  He finally said. 

“You called us here on such brief notice Ergol.”  One of the death class soldiers spoke up.  “If you would be kind, tell us why.”

“I won’t waste your time.”  Ergol began.  “I chose to notify you four because I know you. 
We grew up together.  We fought together in the great dragol war.   But more importantly, we were loyal to our king, Rikard Miljorn.”

“Be careful how you speak Ergol. 
Rikard Miljorn is long dead.  Our king now is Sidion Vror.”

“He is king, yes.  But he’s not my king and neither is he yours.”  Ergol waited.  The sol
diers stood there in silence and Ergol managed a smile.

“So I was right to trust you.  What I have just said is tantamount to treason.  I expected more than one of you to have drawn your swords.  Yet you haven’t.”

“Out of respect for the man you were.”

“The man I was?  No.  It is not out
of respect for that.  It is because you four never really accepted Sidion Vror as your king.  You knew right from the beginning that King Rikard’s death was orchestrated.  I understand why you kept your lips sealed.  If you spoke up against Sidion, you would be put to death.”

“Then why speak up now?  The outcome would be the
same.”

“I am not asking you to speak up.  I’m asking you to help me take action and do the right thing.  Fight with me, for our true king.”

The soldiers burst out into laughter. 

“The man’s gone mad!”  One of them said. 

“True king?”  Another said.  “There is only one king, Ergol.  His name is…”

A sword tip flashed at the soldier’s neck and the laughter instantly died down.  The other death class soldiers unsheathed their swords a
nd surrounded Ergol.

“Do not mention that name in the
same breath as the one I follow as king.”  Ergol said, his voice menacing. 

“What
are you doing Ergol?”  The death class soldier at the edge of his sword asked.  “You kill me and you won’t be alive another moment.”

“I do not intend to take your life Clanner.  But do not make mockery of me.”

“Your point is well taken.  What do you want?”

“For you all to remember the men you were.  What if I told you that the son of
Rikard Miljorn lives?  What if I told you that the rumors you have been hearing about a warrior who managed to defeat a principal, two decades and three years after Rikard did, was true.  If I told you that this son of Rikard, this true heir to the throne was on his way to find his Father’s sword, would you believe me?”

“How can we believe you on the strength of just your words?” 

“You can’t.”  Ergol slowly lowered his sword and looked around him.

“If you may.”  He said.  The other soldiers slowly lowered their
swords as well.  Ergol backed up towards the door and using his right hand rapped on it.  “Bring it in.”  He said.  He stepped away from the door just before it opened up and one of his men brought in a large bag made of animal skin.  Ergol nodded at the floor and the man dropped the bag there.  He backed out of the room and closed the door.

“What’s in the bag Ergol?”  Clanner asked.

Ergol walked towards it and reached inside.  When he pulled out his hand, the head of Balek came out with it.  There was a startled hush around the room.  The soldiers looked at the principal’s head in amazement. 

“Some rumors have merit.  I was there.  I saw the son of
Rikard battle the most powerful kind of dragol, and slay him.  Make no mistake, this is but a simple victory in one of many battles that have been fought over the past four moons, and will be fought from now on.  As I speak with you, the dragol are making their move.  They already made attempt on the life of king Darius Vitalis and the other kings might be in danger as well.  Sidion Vror is a harbinger of destruction my brothers.  His lust for power has led him to believe that aligning himself with the dragol will give him all of Terrianus.  You all served under Rikard, as I did.  He commanded us and we followed. We were the most feared army of all not because of our skill, but because we stood together.  Rikard did not fail to put an end to the Dragol.  The other kings did not.  But… treachery sowed the seeds of disaster.”

“What would you have us do?”

“What I asked in the beginning.  I want to be the man I was before.  So I ask you to gather arms and fight with me.  I ask you to gather your trusted men and journey with me to Beathaleth and whatever lands this journey takes us to.  A war is brewing my death class brothers, and your king… your… true… king needs you.  What say you?”

There was silence in the room.  After a while, Clanner spoke.

“You are well aware what doing this means.  We will be placing our lives and those of our men against the entire Angwelethean army.  We will be branded traitors and enemies to our home.”

“I am
aware, Clanner.  However, if you stay, you will be placing your lives and the lives of your men against the combined forces of all the other kingdoms.  You will be killing your fellow man, not dragol and if you win, you will know that you all, by your swords, brought about the end of your kind.”

“
Rikard’s son.  What is his name?”  Clanner asked.

“
Davydd.  Davydd Miljorn.”

Clanner nodded.  “Consider me at his majesty’s service then.”  He and
Ergol looked at the other three.

“Hagswet, Bolr, Valimius.  What say you?”

The other three death class commanders looked at each other and turned to Ergol and Clanner.  They nodded in agreement.

“When do we leave?”  Hagswet asked.

Ergol smiled.

“Gather
your men as quietly as you can.  We leave in two days.  Be sure to gather only men loyal to you.  I care not for their class, be them death, undertaker, executioner, warrior or infantry.  We must be swift.  In the king’s absence we have a chance.  But if Trudor or Nistam receive news of this, we will be meeting with Feona sooner than expected.”

“Have no worry, Ergol.”  Clanner said smiling.  “We will be meeting Feona soon enough.  But it won’t be by the sword of Sidion Vror’s pet.”

The men all laughed at the comment.  They all clasped hands and began to disperse.  As Ergol left the room and his men followed, his thoughts shifted to Davydd and the others.  He wondered how they were faring.  He wrapped a black cloak around himself as he and his men disappeared into the night. 

In another upper room, two figures stood by a window and watched as the death class commanders dispersed.  One of them belonged to Trudor, w
hile the other belonged to a middle aged man whose eyes were seared shut.  He had short jet black hair with streaks of grey and no beard.  Above his burnt eye area were bushy black eyebrows.  He wore a long red robe and a white scarf around his neck.  He looked to be a bit more advanced in age than Maximus Bastien, but not by much.  

“How did you
come about this, Nistam?”  Trudor said as he turned to the wizard. 

“I may not be able to see, but my barrier can extend fr
om here to wherever in Alvo I so please.  What’s more, I am aware of all life energy within my barrier and their movements.  These four commanders were before your time Trudor.  They fought with King Rikard and have begrudgingly served Sidion Vror.  When I detected them together, you had to be told.”

“That man who cloaked himself… I saw him when we encountered
Davydd and his rebels in Wind Haven.  He was on their side.  I wonder if this means Davydd has returned.”

“I do not sense his presence anywhere.  That man is Ergol.  He was a former dea
th class commander.  He relinquished his position after Rikard Miljorn’s death.  The cloak masks his presence to my senses.  Only when he removes it can I sense him.”

“I see.  I will have a few of my men follow them at a distance.  Let me know of their whereabouts at all times.  I intend to
unravel their intentions.”

“You will not have them killed no
w?”

“Such a thing would not be easy wizard.  Those men are highly respected commanders in the Angwelethean army.  Their men will surely fight for them.  Besides, if they are harboring
Davydd, I must know.  I will let them lead me to their secret before decimating them all.”

Nistam nodded.  “As you wish.”

Trudor looked at him for a while.  “Why have you been so loyal to king Sidion for so long?”

“
His majesty recognized my relevance when others did not.  I was brought in as Matilom’s student, but King Rikard never accepted me.  Sidion did and he gave me purpose.  That is all.”

Trudor smiled again.

“How interesting.”  Come now; let us see what our friends are really up to.

Ten soldiers made their way through the streets of Alvo quickly.  Their eyes darted about, observing the upper class citizens of Angweleth go about their daily business.  They were all there; traders, merchants, taxmen, land owners, law makers and the like.  Alvo was much different from the other cities and towns of Angweleth.  It was a symbol of power.  The architecture was grandiose and splendid.  The citizens’ homes were like mini-castles, with only the occasional small stone or wooden cottage.  The streets were either paved or cobblestone and there were about two or three temples dedicated to the seven gods of Terrianus and to Feona herself.  It was no surprise that only the wealthiest of men could afford to live in such a place.  The soldiers walked on, hastening their pace.  Their sheathed swords clanged about the armor pieces around their legs and the wind, swept up their capes here and there.  Not too far off from the ten Angwelethean soldiers, were two more that followed at a safe distance, occasionally slowing down or stopping and pretending to merely patrol the streets.  However, they never let the ten ahead of them, out of their sight.  The ten soldiers turned left into a smaller street lined on each side by buildings, and the two soldiers behind them followed.  When they turned the corner, there was no one there.  They slowly stepped into the side street, leaving the path of the main street they were on.  Suddenly a door to one of the buildings opened up and hand shot out grabbing the two soldiers and yanking them in.  The door shut behind them.  They fell to the floor of the huge living room and scrambled to get up, before seeing that if they did, an intimidating number of blades were waiting to meet them.  They looked around.  The room was a bit dark, as the windows were closed and the curtains drawn together. 

“You two make very poor spies.” 
It was the voice of Hagswet.  “Did Trudor send you here?”

The two soldiers looked around and kept quiet. 

“Of course it was.”  Hagswet walked forward.

“Commander Hagswet.  What
is the meaning of this?” One of the soldiers asked.

Hagswet sighed.  “I never thought one day I would have to take my sword to a fellow Angwelethean soldier.”

“Please my lord!  We were only ordered to keep watch over you!”

“I know.  And watch you shall.  I will not kill you.  But I need you to sleep
for now.  You are merely misguided.”

“Co..”  The soldier was cut off by a blow to the head with a sword handle.  The second soldier was dealt the
same fate. 

“Trudor knows.” Hagswet said, addressing the other nine soldiers.  “From now on we use the underg
round pathways in the city.  Send word to the others about this.  We need to leave immediately.”

Nistam, who had been sitting silently in his chair, with his arms raised up on either side as if he carried two trays, suddenly gasped for air. 

“What have
you found?”  Trudor asked.

“There are many of them.  They form an army within an army.”

“An army within an army.”  Trudor repeated Nistam’s words.  “It’s an army for Davydd!  Nistam, do you sense Davydd’s presence.”

“No.  I have not sensed it once.”

“Come with me.”  Trudor turned around and left as Nistam followed behind him, walking out of the wizard’s room in Castle Alvo. 

The gate of the Alvo military outpost slowly lifted up as Nistam and Trudor rode in on horses.  There was a murmur going on amon
gst the ranks of soldiers.  The outpost was huge.  The architecture was similar to that of Gor’s outpost, only more grandiose in size and visual appeal.  This was where the upper echelon of Angweleth’s military force convened and resided.  The soldiers going about their business on the ground and in the upper levels of the buildings all stopped to look at the two figures that had ridden in. Trudor disembarked the horse and slowly walked to the center of the compound.  He turned around and stared intensely at all the soldiers silently looking at him before speaking.