Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (29 page)

“No one sees the big picture, my love,” the Duke said, kissing her eyelids as his prisoner whimpered around a cork ball in her mouth. “I am driven, you see? I have a mission, and it is to save this world. But to do that, I need to control it. No one else is worthy of the position.

“The people are out of control, they are greedy and gluttonous. It’s so easy to tempt them away from their self-righteous and moralistic ways. They are like ants to sugar, easily distracted from whatever they were doing to help the hive.”

Malvornick slipped another needle into the woman’s ribs, and her breath rattled as a lung collapsed. As she spasmed, he raised a platform under her neck, positioning blades on each side of her neck. The woman struggled to remain still so she wouldn’t slice her own throat.

“I even set up a place in Everyway to drain the magical abilities from the gifted few. Know what it was for? To help summon beings from another world to come here. Many people would never understand why I would want that though. The Troöds gave me the idea. If I can get a common enemy here I can unite the people in a common cause. Instead of fighting each other, they will join together under a strong leader to fight the invaders. And of course, I am that leader.

“The Troöds thought I was helping them, but had it set up to blow up in their faces. I would have taken control of all the power as soon as the demons came through. But that plan was ruined by, of all things, a demon half breed and one of the men I had strapped to a table. Just like you are now. But instead of draining blood, I was draining all his power.”

The Duke inserted a knife into the soft tissue of the woman’s belly, smiling as the blood welled up and dribbled down her sides onto the floor.

“I wanted to lure Nomed there, that’s the demon half breed, and drain him. Imagine, using the very energy of the foreign invaders to bring them here! But don’t worry, my pet, I had a backup plan. I convinced the Troöds to summon another demon, Kez’et-dual. But he was already on this world, so he isn’t actually in their control. He is now my tool, and I will use him to get his kin here.

“In the meantime, I weave my web here and take control of the ruling houses. It is so easy, it’s ridiculous. Men are eager to give over control to anyone else that seems to have a plan. And I do have a plan, so many plans.”

Kaht watched as Malvornick positioned himself between the woman’s legs and as she twitched in her death throes, entered her. Unable to watch any longer, she slipped away to find Grenedal. She never saw Duke Malvornick smile at her back.

When Kaht at returned, she told Grenedal dire tales of Malvornick’s plans to overthrow each land in the north, and control all the people. Rumors of hordes of monstrous beasts and dead in the land added to the urgency of bringing leaders forward to guide the people. It was in Grenedal’s dragon blood to plan for centuries, urging him to look beyond the lifespan of a single human. They would need to travel north to Trism, to find allies.

Hue Blueaxe stood ready. His double-headed axe was in his right hand and his pale blue chest glistened in the muggy air under his leather vest. He stared into the edge of the Lost Swamp, waiting for the abominations he knew would be coming. He felt their vile energies gathering and animating the hundreds of lost bodies that had been claimed by the mire over the centuries.

The people of Bogtown didn’t know why Hue Blueaxe had arrived earlier that day. They were too concerned with the brown mist that had rolled out of the swamp to cover the land to ask many questions. A few claimed he was a demon, sent to destroy them. One wizened old woman, backed by a prosperous merchant, shouted at the villagers that they had heard of this man, and he was a hero. They told the gathering mob about how he had saved a dozen hamlets and settlements, just like their own, from the atrocities that scoured the land for prey. They told how he fought the insects in the west, the werewolves in the south, and the undead everywhere he met them. When one man, Ol’ Will, suggested that it was Hue that drew them to a place, the old woman put him in his place.

The skeletal forms along with the decayed corpse shuffled and lumbered out of the wall of fog, groaning as they did. Hue knew why he was here, and it was to give everyone the same chance he had. A second chance. He raised his axe, and with a wordless battle cry, ran into the mass of undead, returning them to the graves from which they had crawled out.

“A private confession?” Lord Father Alixin asked, surprised. “Of course, we can. When would you like to come see me?”

Duke Malvornick’s mouth was a straight line as he considered. “I would prefer to do it right now. If I showed up at your temple, certain people may ask questions. If we step away from the party, it appears like we are just talking.”

Alixin nodded and led the nobleman to a private room where they could speak freely. It was an office, a large oak desk in the center. The priest sat in one of the armchairs in front of the desk and offered the other to the Duke. Before taking the seat, the guest poured two brandies and brought one for his host.

“Lord Father, it seems I have found some disturbing news and I am not sure if I should tell the person it concerns. You see, it is about a close friend, a trusted friend. It is not so bad, no one is in danger or will be hurt, but I still teeter on the idea of telling him.”

Alixin nodded and looked at the glass in his hand, surprised it was there. He reached to set it on the desk as he spoke. “That is always difficult, but I cannot advise you on your own choices. I can only judge if your thoughts are right and true, or destructive. From what you tell me, either path could be the correct one, and neither path will be harmful.”

The other man sipped at his brandy and shook his head. “I understand. Is it wrong to provide for your neighbor’s children? If those children are wanting for things, and you are sure the parent would want them to have what is best for them, is it wrong to give them gifts? Gifts that the parent doesn’t see, so there are no hard feelings or hurt pride?”

“It is better to be forthright with such things. If the parent found out later, they may be upset that you did things behind their back or that you didn’t trust them enough to tell them.” The priest raised the glass to his lips and stopped short. He smiled and rolled his eyes and reached to put the drink back on the desk.

“Please, drink,” the Duke said, his voice kind. “You are not on duty at the church, and I just needed to clear these thoughts from my head,”

“No, it is best if I do not. It smells delightful though, I wonder what vintage it is.” He swirled the amber liquid under his nose, breathing it in. “Go on with what you were saying.”

“You have known me for a long time now, Lord Father. I remember when you took the mantle you hold today, against most church elders’ expectations. I have broken bread with you countless times, and shared many tales and times with you. We have benefited from each other in business as well as in personal ways, not to mention spiritual.” Alixin nodded and leaned forward, sipping on his brandy and wondering where the man was going with this. “You love the people you protect. From the men you shake hands with, to the boys you teach the ways of the church, to the women you comfort, and I have seen you do it.” The priest took another drink, unsure what he meant.

“I talk to many people, trying to help others,” the Duke continued, “but I have seen things lately, which may be nothing, but they concern me. Whispers and rumors really, nothing solid. Let me refill that for you.” He stood and took Alixin’s glass, speaking as he moved across the room away from him. “The children I mentioned are the people of this Kingdom. I bring them things, as I have done for you for so long now. I cherish the things I receive in return. The talks, the friendship, the loyalty beyond human laws. But I see something going deeper now. I think it may even be in the church.”

The priest sat up straight and the Duke placed the full glass back in his hand, and set the bottle on the table between them. “What? If there is a problem in the church, how could you not tell me?” Alixin asked and then drank his drink in one swallow.

“How indeed? I didn’t want to hurt your pride. After all, I am an outsider and do not have solid proof of anything.”

“Tell me, my friend, I trust you and will listen to everything you say. With impartialness,” he said, as an afterthought. Malvornick filled the priest’s glass again.

“Good, thank you. This is a relief. Now let me begin by saying, if you do find anything I am here to help. I can have men for you within hours, men you can trust to do what is necessary, men who are loyal, men like you.”

Kez’et-dual almost gave himself away when he sighed. The demon was invisible to the eyes of the men he watched but was having thoughts about eating them both. He had listened to these people talk for over a week. They wanted to summon a great demon lord to breed with Aeifain, to create a race of half-breeds that they could control and use to destroy the humans. They summoned Kez’et-dual to help in this, and thought they had him bound to do their will.

The demon had told them what they needed to know. He had given them detailed plans on machines to build to generate enough magical energy to open the gates of hell and allow the Lords of the Peaths access to this world. Few places on the continent offered enough raw resources to do it. The free City of Everyway was one, but Grenedal Dragonblood had shut down that path. Nomed, that pathetic half-breed, had a hand in it too. It was hard to believe that the Troöds wanted to create an army of creatures like that sniveling trickster. They should focus on their alliance with the human, Malvornick, in the north. At least they didn’t ally themselves with the lunatic necromancer, Rondarius. Land’s End was another place where a portal lay, which was how Kez’et-dual had entered this world over three quarters of a century ago. That entrance had been destroyed. The god Verl’zen-luk protected Ez’rainia-fromton. Daeth’s Pass and the portals in the Olde Kingdom had been destroyed in these people’s most recent failure. He had told them the remaining places. Pantageas, Silver Castle, and the Highest Spire were the three remaining places they could use. Pantageas was protected by secretive mages, and the Highest Spire was unstable and had too many ways things could go wrong.

The demon knew that if he could open a steady portal, then he could bring his people through to this world. Once here they could begin enslaving the populace and building their home. He reveled in that thought. The great temples and highways that spanned from one horizon to the next. The last world they had inhabited was a burning inferno of destruction, and almost too inhospitable even for his kind. Kez’et-dual knew that if he could be the one who brought his people to this world that they had desired as an outpost for millennia, then he would hold a position of power and no longer be the spurned lackey.

Silver Castle was the key. Kala the Black held power over the lands surrounding it. Traitor to humans and responsible for the death of the dasism in the east, he now held the remaining fae-kin in the west in his corrupt grip. All these stupid creatures had to do was to march upon him and either join with him or destroy him. They bickered though, worrying about secrecy and how they could maintain control of the situation as a whole.

Kez’et-dual wanted to scream at them that they had no control to begin with. They were slaves to his whim and will. They would serve him! The demon calmed himself and made his way through the caverns of Dangrazio, back to the cavern that they thought held him captive. He entered and looked at the illusion he had left. It was an exact image of himself; pacing, snarling, and spitting. Four guards watched it. Kez’et-dual snatched one guard up and threw him into the ceiling above the magical circle that was supposed to contain him. The guard screamed as the stalactite speared his belly. The other sentries pivoted and looked up at their companion. The demon took that moment to step back into the center of the glowing runes and dispel his likeness. A warm rain of blood fell onto Kez’et-dual and the man slid slowly down and fell into his claws.

He smiled at the others as he bent his long neck towards the whimpering guard and began taking delicate bites. The other men shuddered as the demon dug a clawed finger into the entrails.

“He was doing something wrong. Must have thought about freeing me or something,” he said and then bit into the abdomen of his meal.

Chapter 17: Ties That Bind

“If a knife cuts deep, then love is a knife from the soul.”

Lyric from a court love song

5854 – Ault – Kornon – Bestuf

They had spent all of the next day fighting the crowds during the celebration of the Changing Wheel. The festivities went on throughout the day. There was a parade where people dressed as the seasons. Sister Spring danced in and out of the children and sang lively tunes; sprinkling water on some, and handing seeds and small dried fruits to others. She turned cartwheels and small children followed behind her, tossing flower petals wherever she stepped. Occasionally she stopped and touched a young couple, blessing them with renewed love and fertility. The crowd cheered, the couple kissed, and Sister Spring moved on.

A huge man was dressed as the two-sided Auntie Summer. One half of him looked like a giant, smiling, warm Aunt that kids loved, the other half was a red faced angry glare and carried a fist full of dried out plants. The Gales followed Auntie Summer, sometimes calm and soothing, other times screaming and showing the ire that a hurricane may bring.

The wise and friendly Uncle Harvest brought cheers as he passed through the crowd lining the street, giving out small pastries and gourds. Small haystacks followed and people reached out to take a piece of hay for luck and protection in preparing for the upcoming winter.

Grandfather Winter with his long snowy beard made an appearance, throwing mint candies to the crowd. Beside him was his icy pet wolf, or rather a man dressed as one, who growled and howled at the crowd. Leaping and bounding he ran back and forth, only to be calmed when Grandfather Winter reached out to pet him or called him to heel.

Behind them all crept the cloaked figure of Milwen, the unknown month that did not belong to any season. He limped along and folks threw flowers at him, hoping to entice him to toss flowers back to them and bring an early spring, rather than four more weeks of winter.

Others followed on wagons or on foot. These were the city officials making their appearance. Many folks nodded to them, but an occasional shout would come from the crowd cheering someone they knew or asking why they weren’t working.

After them came the animals that represented the Changing Wheel. A long snake made of cloth showed the feet of many people under it. It wound its way up the street, a line of people who walked beside it showed the renewal of all things by stripping a thin white sheet off it like shedding skin. A stream of children dressed as caterpillars and butterflies inched and fluttered along the street. A man dressed as an eagle led the birds, flapping, fluttering, and squawking. Some people dressed as birds, but many of them had a real bird on their hand, in a cage; or in one case, herding geese in front of them. The bull and jackal were also represented.

The evening wore on with parties all around. Many games were well known, such as bobbing for apples and corn or sausage eating contests. Soon the kids would be tucked into their beds and the nightlife would take over.

Not many shops were open, but between Gruedo’s knowledge of the town and Rogen’s mysterious connections, they were able to outfit themselves for the journey during the festivities. Rogen detailed what was needed for such a trip, with Cyril suggesting specialty items that may be useful, considering what they may be facing on the journey. Gruedo went off with a list of camping supplies, ropes, and dry goods as well as some odd things that Cyril required.

Gruedo also had her own specialty items to pack. She took time that day to stop at each of her three safe houses. She gathered and packed items she had constructed. She also brought some versatile general items that she could fashion into impromptu weapons. She loaded metals flasks, leather-wrapped glass vials, powders, metal bits, tubes, wires, and small tools in her satchel. The satchel had half a dozen pockets inside of it, all sewn with ribbons and ties to hold things in place. After she finished that, she filled the list Rogen had entrusted to her.

Dawn returned to the Lady Luck to pack a small sea duffle of personal items. The somber crew welcomed her, and Captain Tildan met her as she came aboard. They had a long talk in his new chambers, and Bezel joined them. They discussed the future of the Lady Luck and what waters she would sail. Malvornick had recently upped his business on the ocean, so they would have quite a few targets. Dawn filled them in on the situation on land. When she finished telling Tildan about Cite’s musical debut, he understood why it was so easy to find a dozen eager new crewmembers. She left with one small bag of her own items and a bit of coins, jewelry, and gems. Bezel had given her a list of names if she ever needed help in the north. The crew saw their old captain off with a rousing cheer and a song, led by the bellowing voices of her uncle and cousin.

Cyril waited on the docks for her safe return. They set out to fill a list that Cyril had made of things he alone would be able to get. They visited the temple of Jonath first, speaking to the High Priest. The priest had heard of Cyril and of what had happened in Red City. He lectured the younger man on the blessing of Jonath, explaining how rare it was for the God to answer prayers personally and bestow gifts directly upon a man. The older priest asked for Cyril’s blessing upon the church before they left though, showing his respect for the younger priest. When they did leave, Cyril had the holy water and other unique items he had asked for. They spent the rest of the day filling out Dawn’s wardrobe, finding her clothes and boots suitable for a land journey.

Rogen took Cite with him as he went to get the horses, foodstuffs, and a few extra things. The older man had prepared for this when he went out the night before. Horses were waiting for them, including a saddle sized for Rogen’s shorter legs, and the dried rations of meat, fish, and fruits were wrapped and ready. They paid for everything and arranged to pick them up before sundown. The extra things took the bulk of the day. The two men discussed the trip and the people with whom they would be traveling. Rogen knew that this was the last time they would be able to talk in private, and he wanted to check and see if Cite had any further dreams that would cast light on their situation.

They all gathered back at the Red Door Inn and enjoyed an evening in front of what may be their last warm fireplace for the next month or more. Rogen paid the innkeeper to prepare a special meal of goose and bread stuffing. Velent Brandy and Rallathil Wines were brought out. The crowd called upon Cite to perform what was becoming known as Captain Redblood’s Battle Ballad. As the evening went on, they went over their travel plans one more time, all except Gruedo, who excused herself early to tie up a few loose ends.

5854 – Ault – Kornon – Therin

They left two days later. It was a few hours after sunrise and only an hour after their morning meal of boiled corn meal and ham. Gruedo was enjoying a juvenile line of humor about bodily functions. Rogen laughed at each reference and even Dawn smiled, being used to such humor from the ship.

They were a few miles out of town and making good time. It was a mild day but overcast, a perfect day for riding. Each had a horse and various equipment hung from the saddles. Their horses were sturdy beasts. Rogen had a gift for choosing good stock. He attributed it to years of experience, saying that slave and animal were not that different from one another. They traveled most of the day, stopping to walk or water their horses.

They went due west for two days before they reached the road that led south to Red City and north to Kenworthy. They had not followed a road up to this point and had camped on the ground the past two nights. The sun was coming to its apex and the day was as warm as it was going to get, but the biting wind made it feel cold. It smelled like autumn as leaves changed and fell, bringing the scent of the land settling down to sleep. Birds flew in v formations, or stood in large groups in fields of crops that had been harvested. Insects chirruped their songs, trying to mate for the final time before burying themselves in the ground or trees to hibernate. Fat squirrels and chipmunks chittered and scurried, gathering nuts and seeds to stockpile for the upcoming months.

Two women traveled with a goat and pulled a cart as they approached from the south. This was the first time the group had seen any other travelers since they were about a half day ride from Edgewater. They had seen a farm or two but had no reason to stop. Rogen and Dawn were used to long journeys with no one to talk to but a few companions, but the others were ready to see unfamiliar faces. Cyril swung his leg over his horse and dropped to the ground. Handing his reins to Gruedo, he stepped onto the packed dirt track.

“Good afternoon, goodwives,” he said and gave a small bow. The two stopped about twenty feet away from Cyril, and the older woman eyed him like two-day-old fish. The younger one, in her late teens, covered herself with her cloak and made sure her scarf covered her head.

“I ain’t no wife no more, and she ain’t ol’ enough to be no wife. What you be wantin’ from us?” The old woman spat from between yellowed teeth.

“Just news of the region to the south. We have heard of strange happenings.”

“If’n you heard them already, why you be needin’ us to be tellin’ you?”

“As a priest of Jonath, I know to respect the knowledge of the people of the land, and the wisdom of my elders.” Cyril pulled his cloak back, revealing the symbol of his god. The woman eyed the medallion and then looked up at the others who were still on horseback. They did not have the look of bandits though they were armed, but they were an odd-looking group.

“A priest? For Justice, too, eh?” the woman asked, her attitude shifting. “Perhaps I knows a bit then. We can trade a bit?”

Cyril reached into a pouch and pulled out a silver coin. “I can pay for information; I am afraid I cannot trade goods.”

“Perhaps for a few more coins, I could sell you something? A man like you would be needin’ someone to be cookin’ for you, cleanin’ your clothes and what not.”

“Excuse me?” Cyril asked, unsure what the woman was getting at. She reached behind her and pulled the young girl in front of her.

“She works hard. I can give her to you for a few coins. I don’t ask much, just enough for a poor woman that can be workin’ to live on, maybe a few gold kords? Say, ten?”

“You want me to buy that girl?” Cyril almost stumbled backwards and Gruedo laughed behind him. Rogen slid from his horse and came up beside the confused priest.

“No, Rogen,” Cyril began, only to be stopped by Rogen holding up a hand to silence him.

“You want to sell the girl?” Rogen asked the old woman.

“Not to the stunted likes of your breed. To a good, nice, honest man, likes him there.”

“The church doesn’t allow the buying and selling of human flesh, they would have you Judged for it.” Cyril said, his voice hard.

Rogen watched as the woman went pale as she looked back at Cyril. She fell to her knees and clutched at the hem of Cyril’s cloak.

“Please, M’Lord, I meant nothing. I just meant for you to hire her. Forgive me for my stone-headedness, I will be on my way, we don’t be needin’t to worry ‘bout this, do we?” She moaned.

Rogen spoke before Cyril could answer. “Where are you heading, Grandmother?”

She looked at him with suspicion, her voice low and dangerous. “Why? You don’t not be needin’ to knowin’ that.”

“I have friends that will hire the young woman and pay you the fee you deserve for bringing good working stock to them.”

The woman’s eyes were greedy as her mouth split into a broken grin, “Oh, we be headin’ for the Kenworthy. A nice big city that would be safe from the horrors.”

“What horrors?” Cyril interjected. The woman looked from Rogen, who was offering money to the man she thought would judge and punish her a few moments before.

“Tell him,” Rogen said. “I will prepare the papers so she will be accepted.”

The woman smiled and winked at the short man, then turned to Cyril and began to tell him of her woes. “Oh, the hell that has been following me, oh the woeful luck that has haunted me. My very husband since I was a young maiden was killed, then stood back up to kill me not even a week ago. It was the gods that saved me and the lass there.” The woman rattled on and Cyril tried to guide her babbling without much success.

Rogen returned to the horses and waved the others close to him. Gruedo was holding her own reins, Cyril’s, and Rogen’s. He stepped forward between Dawn’s and Cite’s horses so they all could hear what he had in mind.

“I am not selling the girl into slavery,” Rogen said, “but I know some folk in most towns. I can get her good clean indentured servitude. It would be a contract and spelled out. It would give her a roof and training in something, even if it were just to serve wine and not get pinched. Most women end up married before the end of their contract. I think we should also write up a letter of introduction to the Church of Jonath in case Cyril wants to keep tabs on what I set up. Anyone have a better idea?” Everyone shook their head. “Very good then, Cite, pull out your writing case.”

They were on their way soon after Rogen gave the papers to the girl and a few coins to the woman with the promise of more to come when she brought the girl to his contact in Kenworthy. Cyril agreed to the church contact and signed the paper that Cite had written out as an introduction.