Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (31 page)

As Rogen excused himself to check on the horses, Cite busied himself with his lute, polishing it and checking the strings and pegs. Gruedo was partially reclined with an elbow on her pack, listening to the conversation, while pretending that she wasn’t there.

“Yes, I know of Duke Malvornick,” Cyril answered. “I saw him occasionally in the church. He often donated money or goods.”

“He did seem to be free with his money until he needed something, Dawn said, fiddling with her saddlebags. “But I guess that is the way of business. I recall he could get quite persistent when he wanted something. Nothing was beyond his reach.”

“You could put it that way,” Cyril said with a slight growl to his voice, looking down and picking at the dried autumn grass.

“What do you mean?” Dawn pressed, looking at the priest.

“Malvornick is not the great negotiator you may remember your father dealing with. Extortionist may be a better word.” Cyril pulled one leg under him as he sat, turning away from Dawn.

“Oh? I seem to recall he could use strong arm tactics.”

“You don’t have a clue,” Cyril said. “He could do a lot more than that.”

“Tell me,” Dawn said as she reached over and touched his arm, “I want to hear the rest.”

Cyril looked at her, his eyes hard. They softened with a sigh as he realized she was not teasing him, rather she was genuinely interested, perhaps even concerned.

“I first remember Duke Malvornick coming to a service for Judgment Day. He was pleased when the presiding priest judged a couple of people to be publicly disciplined. I remember him standing up and applauding, and everyone looked at him. I was fourteen at the time and had seen a fair share of these types of services. I had never seen anyone stand up and applaud. It was embarrassing. The Duke didn’t seem to feel that way though.

“We were in a smaller town in northern Humbrey. My brother and I had traveled with a priest, named Alixin, and his two acolytes to see him judge a larger crime. Father Alixin was just Brother Alixin at that time. He is now the head of the church in all of Humbrey. Three boys had been caught cow tipping and had killed a cow when it fell and broke its neck. The farmer caught them in his field and they beat him and ran away. They were scared and didn’t know what to do. Brother Alixin didn’t believe in being soft. He decided they would be put in stocks in front of the town for three days. The first day with no food or water, the second day they could have water, and the third day their families could feed them. That was for killing the cow. For beating the man, he decreed that the farmer would be allowed to give ten lashes to each boy, or Brother Alixin would do it if the farmer couldn’t or wouldn’t. He also made sure the people understood they could not throw anything hard at the boys. No stones or things like that, but they were allowed to throw vegetables or mud.

“The stocks were built that day, and the next day at sunrise the boys were led to them and locked in. The farmer couldn’t bring himself to beat the boys, so Brother Alixin had one of his acolytes do it. Duke Malvornick watched it all. Cyrus, that’s my twin brother, turned to me at one point and said the Duke had winked at him then pointed at the beatings with a smile. I didn’t see it but my brother wasn’t prone to being imaginative. Everything went as expected, no real surprises.

“The next day, though, it was discovered that someone had urinated in the wounds on the boys’ backs during the night. Other things had been done, too. I can only guess, though, because Brother Alixin didn’t feel boys our age needed to know. My brother, who liked to sneak out and get into trouble, said he had heard the prisoners didn’t have any pants that morning. When I got out there, everything had been cleaned up. I could see where water had been poured in front of the young men, possibly cleaning up where they had been sick.

“The next day was worse. Again I heard more from my brother, but he said that not only had the pants been removed, and I suspect there were things my brother didn’t know also, but things had been tied to the boy’s, um, manhood.”

Dawn flinched and Cyril looked at her with concern. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling a lady about this.”

Dawn laughed a short snort. “Don’t worry about me. I have seen worse, and have heard of things far more horrific than this. I’m a sailor, remember?  It just bothered me because they obviously didn’t deserve what they got. Your priest may have been harsh, but he was fair. The rest was just torture.”

Cyril thought about that for a moment, and took up his tale again. “Well, that night Brother Alixin had two different watches of two men set for the prisoners. One of his acolytes would be one of the two men that would be watching the prisoners at any time. The next morning my brother and I were told not to leave our rooms. No one came for us until lunchtime. We had no idea what happened, but my brother went to find out. He later told me that the men had been killed and each other’s body parts stuffed into their own mouths. At that point, I assumed they meant fingers or something. As I got older and thought about it, I doubt it was those digits that ended up in the boys’ mouths. The townsperson was still unconscious and Father Alixin’s acolyte was being held for questioning.

“Usually my brother was the one to overhear things, but that night was different. We were in a cabin that the town kept for important visitors. Duke Malvornick came to visit Brother Alixin. Keep in mind that he was just a Brother at the time. He had passed a harsh judgment and three men had been tortured and killed because of it. The families were upset, to say the least, and the town horrified. Duke Malvornick offered to help. He told Brother Alixin that he sympathized with the problem and that my mentor had done right by passing a strict discipline to the boys.

“I am not sure exactly what the Duke did, but the next day we all were allowed to leave, including the acolyte, which Malvornick asked to escort back to his Duchy. Brother Alixin took us back to Velent and things went back to normal. My brother and I entered the clergy and learned the ways of the church.

“I began to see Duke Malvornick more often. Soon Brother Alixin became Father Alixin. Not long after that, he was raised to Lord Father when our current Lord Father unexpectedly died in bed. He was not old, but the official story said he died peacefully. Rumors, told a different story, a story that would be quite an embarrassment to the church if it got out.

“The Duke came to Velent every season or so. He made large donations to our church. The acolyte that had escorted him home became personal assistant to Father Alixin. About five years ago, that same acolyte was found in an alley; he had been disemboweled. The one who did it was never found.

“I have kind of wandered off the topic, though. I was always suspicious of Duke Malvornick, but I was a kid, what could I do? I told my brother about it, and he did what he always did, he went to take a closer look. After Father Alixin’s acolyte was killed, Duke Malvornick requested my brother to be his personal envoy. His duties would be to travel to Malvor to escort Malvornick to and from Velent. He would always accompany Malvornick when he was in Velent. It was a great honor. Suddenly my father began receiving gifts and contracts that increased our family wealth. I was worried, and took my concerns to Father Alixin. I told him the things my brother told me. I wanted to save Cyrus.

“A little more than two years ago, Cyrus disappeared. Duke Malvornick was giving commands rather than asking for favors by that time. I swear Father Alixin almost saluted him when Malvornick told him what he wanted. I didn’t have any solid proof, just what I have seen, or not seen. A series of events that made me suspicious. So I left.”

Cyril leaned over and turned the dying embers, and they flared back to life. He saw Dawn staring at him, not in judgment or sympathy but with understanding.

“I lost family to Duke Malvornick, too,” she said. “Like I said, he is persistent and nothing seems to be out of his reach. Excuse me.” She stood and went into the trees, perhaps to answer a call of nature, perhaps to be alone. Cyril watched her back as she moved outside of the ring of light from the fire and somehow felt she had been hurt, perhaps not by what he said, instead by the fact that she was not alone and others suffered also. Cyril didn’t see the large shadow move behind him and circle the camp towards the place Dawn had disappeared.

5854 – Ault – Kornon – Uthr

The shadows hid the identity of most of the people gathered, though each of them knew who the others were. Lord Jaeken looked at the assembled, a dozen men from Velent and three or four from each of the other twelve ruling areas, almost fifty in all. Some were nobles, others were knights or priests, and a couple of the men were high standing members in the military. He knew most of them personally, but a few that had been brought by others were strangers.

They gathered in an abandoned warehouse. It had been empty for a few years, long enough for the rats to move on, but not so long that it had fallen into disrepair. There were no windows, and the only light was from a lantern that Jaeken held and what filtered through the cracks of the walls from the outside. The ceiling disappeared into the gloom above as the day came to a close. They had chosen this time of day since so many people were out it would not look suspicious, and if someone were watching it would be harder for them to follow in crowds.

“I have spoken to most of you,” Jaeken began, “and the ones I haven’t were brought here by someone I trust and you have been filled in on the situation. Something rotten is in Humbrey and I think it has designs on the crown itself. We have all heard of the tales of the money and corruption.” Jaeken set his light down on an abandoned crate and began to pace. “I am not a man of action, I enjoy the easy life I have had for many years, but even I can see that the life I love could be changed if we do not do something soon.” The crowd murmured it assent.

“I am not suggesting we do anything rash. I am saying we pool our knowledge, compare what we have seen and make sure our facts check out. If we find that they do, then we need to make a decision of where to go from there. I would say we at least quietly prime our personal garrisons for action. Prepare for events, in case they do arise. We can at least be informed and vigilant.” More nods and murmurs came from the assembled.

“I will begin with what I have observed in the past weeks, as well as what I have noticed in hindsight.”

Lord Jaeken told the crowd what he had seen in the dark corners of the Kingdom, as well as what he had seen in broad daylight, which was even more frightening. The others shared their experiences also. After two hours, they had reached the unanimous conclusion that there was a problem, and it was larger than any one of them had been aware. A network was created that evening, and Jaeken was proud to serve his country once again. He was excited to meet with Alixin later and compare notes.

Chapter 18: Dark Canopy

“In a forest in which men hunt, rarely are the beasts the things to fear most.”

Quietwood, Ranger of Senaria

5854 – Ault – Kornon – Uthr

There was frost the next morning. Everyone rolled out of their bedrolls, shook out their blankets and grumbled the usual complaints that people have when the weather changes. Rogen had the last watch, and had prepared flatcakes and dried salted ham for everyone. He also prepared some beanut, a thick, dark drink made from the bitter bean-like nuts of a flowering bush that grew in the rolling foothills here. Gruedo and Cyril drank it with gratitude. Dawn and Cite had other ideas and added tea leaves to some hot water for a milder drink.

Most of the leaves had fallen from the trees and crunched under the hooves of their horses as they rode. The days went by and they rarely saw other people. They avoided small farming communities they passed and stayed off main roads. Three days later, they found the easternmost river of Jonath’s Trident, Justice. They followed it upriver for most of the day and reined in at the beginning of the hills that marked the Halfway Hills.

“Oh, if we had the time we could find some treasure in these hills,” Rogen said.

Gruedo leaned forward in her saddle. “Buried gold? Do we have to dig?” she asked with a grin.

“No, lass, I meant tobacco and beanut! These hills have some of the largest farms for both. Smokey midnight, spice, exotic, bright red and the ever-popular base tobaccos are all grown, dried, and distributed from here.”

They camped the night there and the next morning turned south and followed the line of hills for two more days before reaching the town of New Roval. They spent the days in conversation about various topics. Gruedo always pressed for tales from the others. She often tried to best them with tales of her own or things she had heard. Cite would play his lute to pass the time, often memorizing his companions’ stories to make a song from them later.

In the mornings, Rogen always woke them with the smell of cooking food. He had brought along a nice yew longbow and arrows, supplementing their meals with some fresher meat.

After making camp, Gruedo often searched for different odd plants and rocks. She found many herbs and explained how she learned about cooking when she was younger in the kitchens at the Orphanage of Promethene. The rocks were a bit harder to explain. She passed it off as a hobby. When she produced a mortar and pestle on the first night and began grinding various minerals and herbs to powder and storing them in bottles, Cyril explained a bit more about Gruedo’s talents.

“An Alchemist?” Cite exclaimed, pulling his pipe out of his mouth.

“I guess,” Gruedo said with a shrug, looking uncomfortable now that the attention was on her when she did not request it.

“Where did you learn your formulas?” Cite pressed.

“I learned a few when I was a kid, you know, you pick things up. Some of the priestesses in the orphanage had special compounds they mixed for cleaning. I found if you mixed certain ones, it created toxic clouds.” A wistful look of happy childhood memories crossed her face. “Others I picked up later. I did some research for what goes into things like Dragon’s Fire. It burns hotter than normal oil and can’t be washed off with water, very volatile too. Really, it is quite explosive.” Gruedo smiled.

“What about the other formulas?” Cite pressed again.

“I don’t know. I suppose some I made up, guessed at them. You know what these two things do, and you know what these other two things do; you can guess what would happen if you put the four things together.”

“I understand, but how did you know the amounts? Even in cooking it is not the same portion for every seasoning.”

“I guess I just know. Like when I add a new mineral to something.” Gruedo held up the bottle she had just filled. “I recognize some properties and add what it needs.”

Rogen sat back, pulled on his cigar and passed a small flask of brandy to Dawn. They watched the exchange with amusement. They did not often see anything excite Cite, and it was rarer to see Gruedo shirk from attention. Cyril stood over the scene with his arms crossed, looking like a father watching his child during a test.

The conversation continued until Gruedo finally demanded to know why Cite was so curious.

“There is said to be a fifth magic, one that is not a blend of the others. I have long thought that it may be alchemy. But I have not been able to find anyone who I could ask about it. I am trying to figure out if it is all trial and error, or is it a weird mix of earth ley lines and detecting minerals and blowing them up using the heat ley lines. There are dozens of possibilities. But from what you are saying, you always need the prepared mixtures. I am not sure if that can be magic at all. You show no abilities without using what could be called fetishes and focuses.”

“Could you please stop calling it a fetish? I keep expecting Dawn to pull out a cat of nine tails, or Rogen to grab a whip.”

Cite sighed. “Can you do anything without an outside ingredient?”

“Not really, but I am great at making things in a tight spot from whatever is on hand.”

“Can anyone do what you do with the same ingredients? Or when you do it, does it have a different or larger effect?”

“I don’t know. I never tried. And I am not going to here. I could only bring so much with me.”

“That’s reasonable, but you would be willing to experiment when we get to a place where you have extra materials?” Cite asked and Gruedo agreed. “Good! Until that happens though, could you answer a few more questions for me?”

Gruedo sighed. “Rogen, could I try one of your cigars? I think it is going to be a long evening.”

5854 – Ault – Jordar - Midā

The five of them sat on a small hill overlooking New Roval on the chilly autumn morning. Their breath was small white clouds, and the horses stamped and whined in complaint. The town was a picture of serenity, which was a warning sign. At this hour of the morning, it should have been bustling with activity, smoke coming from every chimney, fresh baked bread on the air, animals bleating or clucking and children running around. The town was quiet. The only sound they heard was a flock of a dozen geese honking as they headed south before the winter came.

“What do you think happened?” Dawn asked.

“Maybe they are late sleepers?” Gruedo suggested. She heard a noise from Cyril and turned to see the man pulling armor from his saddlebags and strapping on a metal breastplate. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I am preparing for the unknown,” Cyril explained.

“You didn’t use that in Red City, why use it now?”

“I didn’t have time to prepare in Red City. Here, I do. I would be a fool to not use that time wisely.” Cyril strapped greaves over his shins and then bracers on his forearms.

Rogen’s saddle creaked as he swung down. “Good idea Cyril. If any of you have any extra equipment you use, now would be the time to ready it.” Rogen reached into his own saddlebag, pulled out a shirt of chainmail, a padded under-tunic, and removed his cloak to put on the armor. With a shrug, Gruedo leaned back and pulled pieces of thick leather armor from her bags. Slinging her satchel across the pommel of his saddle, she strapped on her black armor over her clothes. Cite and Dawn exchanged glances, then looked back towards the town and waited for their friends to finish.

When everyone had completed the additions to their wardrobes, the group looked over the silent town again. Directly to the south was Oceaphylius Glensharrow, a massive ancient forest that was growing towards the town. Tree stumps dotted the field between New Roval and the wood, and they saw the growth of new trees. A mile to the west was the rolling Halfway Hills and fields stretched as far as the eye could see to the east and north.

The town itself was a collection of about sixty stone and wood buildings, most of them two stories tall. A blend of wooden shingles and clay tiles topped various roofs, and only barns had thatch. The hills to the west had provided the necessary resources for stone blocks, as well as clay for brick, and the forest was an endless supply of wood. A wall about the height of a mounted man circled the whole town, the bottom half the gray stone that most of the buildings used and the top half a wooden palisade.

The town showed no life. No smoke from fires, not a single animal was moving inside the walls, and no human being was to be seen. No signs of death were apparent either. No buildings were burnt, no bodies littered the ground, and no destruction or disturbance of any type showed.

“Cyril and I will go in first,” Rogen said as he took charge of the situation, “Gruedo, take my bow and stay back. Fire if something crops up. Dawn, Cite, I think you will figure out what to do. Cite? Can you sense people?”

Cite looked at Rogen, surprised by the question. “I don’t know, I’ve never tired.”

“Well, try lad,” was all Rogen said.

Essude felt the psionic energy of another mind with power flare somewhere close. She slid her mind into the dull state that dampened all active mental abilities of her own, and crouched down inside the building. The Troöd could still use her passive abilities, and like using one’s eyes to see someone when one is hidden, tracking the new mind that had entered the town was easy. Feeling the human’s presence approaching made her smile. She would be able to tell Kala that others did come. She knew they would.

The other mind sent out waves of metal energy that were staggering. Either this person was a giant amongst mentalists, or they would burn themselves out if they kept this up. Essude opened up her mind and let it blanket the area, tentatively checking if the other would sense her. She felt the four others and knew she had to see them also, since she couldn’t use her psionic abilities to deal with this. She was a warrior, one of the green Troöds, and this was a chance to show the grays that she could be as important as they. Not everyone had to summon demons to be useful.

Camouflaging herself without thinking, and blending with the surrounding stone and wood she pulled herself up, and looked out of the window closest to her. No one could be seen, though she could feel that they were not very far away. She crept out of the second story window, slid on her belly onto the wood shingles of the roof and slipped towards the people’s direction.

Cite went tense. He felt something. Like an oily film on top of water, there was something here that he couldn’t quite see with his eyes or his mind. Feeling the minds of his friends, he slipped the thought of ‘Caution’ into their heads. Rogen turned to look at him for a moment, the question on his mind apparent without Cite using his abilities. Cite shrugged and Rogen turned back to his methodical inspection of the town.

Rogen moved with the practiced ease that spoke of experience in situations like this, axe ready in one hand and hammer in the other. His eyes swept back and forth and he looked behind him to check on his group with peripheral vision. Cyril was to his right, a common spear in his hands and a soldier’s sword belted to his waist, moving and keeping pace. The priest watched Rogen, ready to follow his reaction or command to any threat. Cyril had military training in the ranks of the church. Priests of Jonath often were used as military or law enforcement when needed.

The wind picked up and Dawn drew in a deep breath as she drew her cutlass. She was on edge and Cite could almost feel an electric charge coming from her. He had no way of knowing for sure without asking her, but it was a likely area for ley lines.

Gruedo watched the rooftops. This was not an ambush yet, but it was the perfect setup for one. There had been enough times that she had been on the other side of a surprise attack. She nocked an arrow and walked sideways, taking one step and bringing the other foot even with the first, never risking her balance by crossing her feet while moving. Her eyes shifted to the corners of buildings, the well in the center of the street and back to the roofs, looking for any movement that might tell of danger.

The group passed through the gap in the wall around the town. They could see the barricades inside the wall that were used to block the opening when needed. Brown grass grew up around the wooden legs of the wheeled gates showing they had not been moved in quite a while. Ruts from a constant traffic of carts and wagons mixed in the dried mud with countless tracks of horseshoes and booted feet.

“Three days, maybe four,” Gruedo said quietly. Rogen looked back to see the curly haired lass kneeling and inspecting the tracks. “It has rained here since these tracks were made; their edges are soft, not crisp. The leaf cover, as well as a few other things shows it’s been a few days since anyone passed here. I see tracks going out, but not enough for everyone to have left at the same time. At least, not from this gate.”

They moved further into the town, leaves crunching underfoot. In the distance, they heard the cry of some sort of predatory bird miles away. The first couple of buildings were a variety of official government buildings and a farrier. They could tell by the stables and blacksmithing tools used to shoe horses. Rogen circled closer, glancing over the small fenced area where the forge and anvil sat. The others waited as he went inside to look around. They could hear his heavy boots moving around on the wooden floor. He came back out in a couple of minutes and shook his head.