Heir to the Sundered Crown (33 page)

Woven placed his hand on his knees, he was exhausted. They all were. The siege was now into its second week and still the Lich’s forces attacked. It seemed hell-bent on taking the city. He sighed in relief as the all-clear horn blew. The monsters had retreated yet again.

He had been fighting on the east wall as that was where the combat had been thickest. A small boy ran along the wall, careful not to slip in the blood or trip on the bodies. Over his shoulder was a large bucket sloshing with water.

Woven stood and gratefully ruffled the boy’s hair before drinking. His throat was parched from the smoke caused by the fires burning inside the city walls. Thatched houses were ablaze, the victims of the Lich’s latest magical assault.

“We can’t take many more days like today,” Master Thondril said tiredly as he walked along the wall bloody sword in hand. “We’re down to just a few hundred men. It won’t be long before disease does for us what the Lich cannot. We’re running out of kindling to burn all the bodies.”

The old warriors face was streaked with dirt and blood. A livid wound ran across his right cheek down to his jaw line. A ghouls axe the cause.

“Now that the ghouls are being sent against us we’re getting a pasting. Even our silver weapons are having a hard time killing them. It took six knights working together and the use of fire to just kill the one that did this,” he said gesturing to the wound.

Woven leant wearily against the wall his sword now back in his sheath. He put his forehead upon the cold stone. He was so tired.

“I give us another day or two before we have to abandon the walls. Then it will be a last stand at the baron’s castle,” he groaned. Tiredly he stretched his limbs, grunting as his shoulders clicked.

Thondril leaned in close.

“I trust the prince is safe?” the Knight Master whispered.

“Aye, he’s safe. I moved him and his nanny to my private rooms in the castle. I assigned Briden to be their bodyguard. If the city falls then I told him to try his luck in the underground caverns.”

Thondril leant heavily against the wall. The man appeared as though he was older than his already advanced years.

“We’ve held our own these past weeks. If only we had known of the Lich before we arrived...I would have summoned every warrior in Delfinnina to the march,” he said despairingly.

“Word would have reached the rest of the kingdom. A whole barony going silent is sure to have drawn attention. There might be an army already on its way here...” before Woven could finish his reply a horn blast wailed from the direction of the south gate. Both men looked to the walls to see Eclin soldiers waving frantically.

A few moments later a red faced young squire came bounding up the steps leading to the top of the wall.

“Commander Thondril! I have word from Sir Grandir on the South wall,’ the lad panted breathlessly.

Thondril threw a cautious glance to Woven. The ranger shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“Whenever you’re ready lad,” Woven said impatiently.

The squire shot him a frown before facing his commander.

“Sir. Sir Grandir says that an army is approaching from the south. He spied a sizeable force of men advancing through the mountain pass.”

Throndil smiled at the news.

“It looks like my prayers have been answered,” he laughed clapping his gauntleted hands.

Woven shook his head in caution.

“I’ll share your joy once we know if they are friendly or not. In case you had forgotten Commander the realm is still in the midst of civil war. If it’s an army from Retbit or one of the other claimants...”

Thondril’s smile faded as the truth of the rangers words sank in.

“Surely they would not abandon us to the Lich. Even a claimant would not tolerate a force of evil such as this...” he said gesturing to the horde snarling at the walls.

“Let us hope you’re right.”

*

Rason crested the small hill which overlooked the city of Eclin. His legion marched through the pass to form up ranks. They were still a mile from the city walls but all could clearly see the army already besieging it.

“By Niveren...that’s an army of undead!” cried out one of the legionaries stood in the front ranks. A ripple of concern spread down the lines.

“We have to aid them,” cried another soldier. Soon much of the army was bristling to advance and save Eclin from the ancient foe.

Rason rode his horse along the front rank. He raised his voice; “We are not here to destroy the un-dead, we are here to destroy Eclin my foe for the crown,”

The Legion roared in protest.

“Are you mad? The old foe is there, what about those poor people. Our oath is to defend Delfinnia from all foes, especially the old enemy!” shouted one of the centurions. 

Rason scowled in annoyance at his men. Why were they so eager to save his enemy? Why didn’t they share his desire to end the war and win the crown?

“They will not follow me...” he muttered to Cliria who trotted her horse next to his. “They swore oaths to me, their general and king and yet they will not follow.”

Cliria smiled.

“They will follow you. You have a glorious task to perform,”

She slid from her horse to stand in front of the legion. One of the centurions too stepped forward his hand reaching for his sword.

“I knew he was bedevilled. You’ve put him under some spell,” the big man turned to face his men. “She is a witch!”

Angry yells came from the ranks. Others had noticed their general’s strange behaviour.

“The Rason I bled with on the Marble Shore would never have allowed a witch to march with the legion, and he would not leave a city full of innocent women and children at the mercy of monsters!” the centurion continued. Other legionaries drew swords, some raised their spears.

The centurion charged at Cliria. She stood still an amused smile on her face. Just as the centurion got within striking distance she casually flicked her wrist. The big man was sent flying backwards by a burst of magic to crash heavily into his comrades.

Cliria raised her hands into the air. An unnatural wind began to swirl about the now terrified legion. Then to their horror they watched as the witch rose into the air. Her long hair radiated around her, her eyes were black and her face was hideous as black veins spread across her skin.

“YOU ARE MINE. YOU WILL SERVE RASON UNTIL YOUR LAST BREATH. YOU WILL SERVE ME!” Cliria screamed.

The unnatural wind grew in strength a dark energy crackled and fizzed as the legion was engulfed by it.

*

“What was that?” Woven cried as he watched the distant army being engulfed in the black wind. The other knights and warriors stood in stunned silence.

Thondril leant heavily against the wall his earlier smile replaced with a look of horror. The black wind faded to reveal the distant army once more. The legion began to chant and stamp their armoured feet.

“Magic... Help has not come. Instead it is our doom,” the grandmaster uttered under his breath. 

Woven stared at the now advancing army a fresh knot of fear worming its way into his guts.

***

39.

The tower of Danon stood black and menacing over the ravaged plain. The bones of mighty fell beasts and the twisted dead hulk of an ancient forest spread for miles around.

Luxon and Aljeron quickly but carefully made their way    through. The old wizard moved quickly, sure of the path through the maze of death. Amongst the dead forest were razor leaves which they avoided.

Somewhere behind them the dragon Umbaroth waited, ready to come to their aid if he could. Aljeron slowed as they came to the edge of the dead forest. A large clearing lay between them and the tower. Outside were the three dragons which Luxon had seen the last time he had set his sights upon the place.

Each appeared to be asleep. Aljeron placed a finger to his lips as he slowly stepped out into the clearing. Luxon followed keeping low.

They hurried across the open space, keeping low. One of the dragons raised its massive head causing them to freeze.

The beast opened its cavernous mouth in a wide yawn before setting its head back down upon its talons. It closed its eyes and began to snore loudly.

Luxon sighed in relief. He opened his hands which had clenched into fists. He was ready to fight if necessary, confident in his power. He paused as he realised he was eager.

Luxon set his jaw, took a deep breath and followed the wizard into the heart of Danon’s lair.

*

Aljeron raised his staff, muttered an incantation and thrust it at the massive doors. To Luxon’s surprise the doors creaked open to reveal a vast space beyond. No light was visible, just an inky darkness. He frowned at the wizard. He was about to ask how the wizard knew how to open the doors when Aljeron tapped his staff onto the black stoned floor. A bright light flashed into life illuminating the cavernous chamber.

The walls were black and lined with jagged spikes. Hanging from some were tattered banners, the images which had once been upon them now faded and worn.

Luxon nearly jumped out of his spirit as the doors slammed shut. He spun panic rising within him. He turned to see Aljeron watching him, a faint smile on his old lips. Something was not right. The old man seemed different, taller somehow as though his soul was feeding upon the blackness around them.

“This way to Danon,” Aljeron whispered pointing deeper into the chamber. Luxon nodded and followed the old wizard. He frowned deeper as he noticed the wizards stride was stronger than it had been. Before, Aljeron had walked with a stoop and a bit of a shuffle.

They walked deeper until the darkness felt like a smothering shroud. Aljeron cast a spell of light to guide their way. The place was eerily silent. So much so that Luxon felt the hairs on his neck begin to rise. A sense of dread was building within him.

Finally they reached what looked like a throne room. At the end of the chamber atop a flight of steep steps was a massive throne.

“What the?” Luxon gasped.

Sat on the throne was a figure. Huge it was, twice the same size as Umbaroth. Only it wasn’t a dragon. Instead it looked like a man, an impossibly huge man.

Covering the body was a suit of metal armour the likes of which Luxon had never seen before. A black helmet hid its face. As he got closer he could see that the armour had rusted. No sign of life stirred.

“What is that?” Luxon stammered.

Aljeron ascended the steps to stand before the throne.

“That is Vectrix. God of the void,” the wizard answered simply.

Luxon staggered back a step in shock.

“How can this be? Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Luxon demanded his shock being quickly replaced with annoyance.

“It does not matter. For you will share his fate,” Aljeron snapped. The wizard raised his staff unleashing a bolt of lightning at his student.

The move took Luxon completely by surprise. He had no time to deflect the attack. Sheering pain lanced through his body as the lightning struck. He was sent sprawling backwards to land heavily in a heap.

Luxon shook his head, desperately trying to shake away the stars that now swam before his eyes. Slowly he staggered to his feet.

Aljeron laughed, clapping his hands in delight.

“You are strong enough,” the wizard cackled, ‘all of that effort paid off it seems. All those years of putting up with your wining, your stupidity your false hopes, all of it will have been worth it,” he spat.

Luxon fell to one knee, the pain of the attack cramping his muscles painfully. He raised his head to watch the man who he thought was his friend, his mentor, his ancestor.

“Who are you?” he shouted, a part of him already guessing the answer.

Aljeron chuckled. He threw his staff away and cast off his robes. For a moment he faded into shadow before reappearing.

In place of the kindly old man who had taught him to harness his power stood a figure dressed in black. His skin was as white as snow. Thick black veins covered his face. His teeth were pointed and savage and his eyes. His eyes were as black as night.

Luxon closed his eyes. He understood his dreams now.

“You were watching me. All this time,” he said miserably. He opened his eyes and glared at the smiling monster before him. “Danon. That was the name in my dream. The one that was always just out of reach. Your name.”

“I have watched you since the day you were born Luxon. From this wretched place I have watched events for millennia, waiting for my time, waiting for one with the right blood and power to get me out of here,” Danon replied.

“You should feel honoured. I went to so much trouble to get you here to make you what you are. Cliria followed my plans to the letter. She began the civil war to weaken resistance to my will. She stole Aljeron’s staff and sent you to me. She didn’t know at the time that would happen mind you. And now here we are at the heart of the voids power,”

Luxon stood once more, wincing against the pain.

“What happened to him?” he said pointing to the giant corpse upon its throne. His mind raced. It had all been a trap, and yet something nagged at him. A question was on his conscious, one that he feared the answer to.

Danon pulled his hood down over his face before sitting on the armoured foot of Vectrix. Casually he stretched out and put his hands behind his head, all the while an amused expression on his lips.

“I drained his power,” Danon answered simply as he checked for dirt under his claw like nails. 

“It was a hell of a scrap. Took thousands of years, but eventually I bested him and took his power for my own. With it I was able to control the dragons and also add their power to mine,”

Danon slid off the dead god’s foot like an agile cat.

“And yet with all that power it still wasn’t enough to escape from this place. It took me eons to finally figure it out,” he said bitterly, ‘Aljeron the first wizard sealed the first breach and made it so that only he or those of his bloodline could reopen it. That is why Cliria sent you here. The portal can only be traversed from one side. Now that your here with me I will use your power to open the breach from this side,”