Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (59 page)

Tamboor beat him there.

The academy legend flung
himself
at the monster that Rudfen had become. He tackled it from behind, but the beast was so strong that he only succeeded in knocking it forward a few steps. Rudfen reached back and grabbed at the man with a hand that had become a pincer. Tamboor leapt out of the way and swung his sword at the beast, but the blade barely made a furrow in the thick plates that now made up Rudfen’s skin.

Rudfen turned to face this new foe and raised his other arm which still held the spiked mace. Justan, seeing the danger Tamboor was in, cried out in warning just as the beast swung its mace. Tamboor dodged the blow and hacked at its arm, but
to
little result.

“Tamboor!
Use this!” Justan shouted and threw Rudfen’s shield to him.

Tamboor caught the shield and raised it just in time. The beast swung the mace with such force that it dented the shield and knocked Tamboor sprawling into the crowd. He didn’t get up right away.

Justan darted at Rudfen’s flank, looking for a weakness. Sir Hilt had taught him that there was no such thing as a perfect armor. There had to be seams and separations in the armor in order to facilitate movement. These were the best places to strike when facing an armored opponent. This was especially important for Justan’s dual sword fighting style because it required lighter swords and made it difficult to swing the weapons hard enough to penetrate most types of armors.

Justan made several jabs at the seams in Rudfen’s hardened skin before the beast could react. Unfortunately, the swords Justan had been able to acquire were designed more for slashing than for piercing and he was only able to penetrate a mere inch into the beast’s body,

The strikes had caused it some pain though, because Rudfen screeched and whipped his pincer arm at him. Justan brought both swords up and was able to block the blow, but it knocked him off his feet. Rudfen reared back, his two front legs
raising
off of the ground and began to swing his mace in a strike that Justan knew he would not have been able to block. This is when Fist arrived.

The ogre swung the table leg with such force, that when it hit Rudfen’s forearm, the
chitinous
hide shattered. The spiked mace fell to the ground and Rudfen screeched in pain. One of the tentacle-like appendages growing from his abdomen shot out, piercing into Fist’s upper thigh. He growled and swung again, this strike hitting Rudfen in the chest.

A spider web-like pattern of cracks spread out from the spot where Fist’s attack had landed. One of the nails protruding from the table leg pierced through the armored hide and a stream of
ichor
poured out. Rudfen’s pincer arm grabbed the table leg and tried to wrench it from Fist’s grasp. The ogre stumbled. The leg that had been stuck by the stinger was going numb and he was having difficulty keeping the leverage he needed to pull the weapon back.

Justan saw an opening through their struggle. He darted forward and cut the tentacle piercing Fist’s leg with his right sword. He spun holding his left sword ready and used the momentum to thrust the blade into the hole Fist had put in Rudfen’s chest. The blade slid through the hole with little resistance, piercing the beast’s heart.

The creature that was once Rudfen
Groaz
slid off of Justan’s blade slowly, a look of surprise on its face.
Fist ripped the table leg from its grasp and swung the weapon again, this time catching it in the small of the back. The large beast dropped to its knees and fell backward with a thud.

Rudfen was dead. His body immediately began to deflate and return to its previous state. Some pieces of its body did not return to normal but lost any form and began to melt. As Justan looked into Rudfen’s lifeless eyes, he felt a pang in his chest.

Justan had never killed a man before. This felt different than killing a regular monster. The goblins and orcs he had slain were just creatures to him, and evil ones at that, but Rudfen had been more than that. He had been a living, thinking person and Justan couldn’t make himself believe that the man was truly evil. In a sense, Rudfen had been just as much a prisoner as any of the men Justan had freed.

Upon seeing Rudfen’s death, the last few guards had little fight left in them. Justan glanced around the chamber and saw the last of the soldiers fall to Tamboor’s bloody sword. He heard the wounded crying out in agony and looked down at the scores of bodies littering the floor.

Some of the dead were Duke Vriil's men, but most of them were escapees. Justan grit his teeth in anger. All these men had one thing in common. In one way or another, they were all prisoners of Duke Ewzad Vriil. In Justan’s mind, each dead man was one more reason that the wizard needed to be destroyed.

Justan pushed his way through milling prisoners and ran over to Fist.
Are you alright?
The ogre was blood streaked and weary. The arm with the arrow in it hung straight at his side and he watched as Fist pulled the stinger out of his leg. Justan sent his thoughts through the bond and felt out the injury. The head of the arrow was lodged in the muscle of Fist's arm and had nicked the bone. Luckily no artery was severed.

It's just an arrow.
Fist sent, and ripped it free from his arm. Justan winced as some of the blood hit his chest. Whatever poison had been in the stinger had dissipated upon Rudfen’s death. The ogre would be okay.

A shout rang out as the iron chamber door was opened. Prisoners streamed out if the chamber, entering the stairwell. The fighting wasn't over yet.

 
“No-no-no!”
Ewzad Vriil shouted at the image wavering in the air above his throne. “Blast! You
fools
! You blasted fools!” His face was purple with anger and veins bulged from his forehead grotesquely. His soldiers were losing far too quickly. More prisoners were being freed every moment and Hamford had not yet been able to release any of his creatures.

To make matters worse, Ewzad felt a shock pass through him. One of his power structures had collapsed. This meant that one of his chosen servants had just died. Ewzad sent out magical feelers. Hamford was still alive and so was Kenn. Ewzad shifted the image above his writhing thumb just in time to see Rudfen dissolving on the floor.

“Impossible!” the duke shrieked. Not only was Rudfen his most dependable servant, he was also one of his best warriors and the finest of his human creations. The veins on his forehead bulged again and his legs wobbled. He steadied himself and took a deep breath.

“No matter.
No, it doesn't matter, no. There are many more men like Rudfen out there. Yes, he can be replaced.” Then he saw something that made him snarl anew.

“
What is it, Master
?” asked the voice of the mother of the moonrats.

Prisoners had escaped into the back stairwell that led to his throne room. With most of his forces depleted, they would soon be upon him. He would be forced to kill them all with his magic and such an attack could destroy his
new castle
. That was unacceptable! Well, a castle could be rebuilt, but . . . No, he had a better idea.

“Yes, yes.
A better idea.”
Ewzad grinned. Why fight the battle himself when he had an entire army at his disposal?

“Oh, my dear?”

“
Can I help, Master?
” the voice said impatiently.

“Oh yes. You can help me very much, my dear. Ready the troops, would you?”

Chapter Thirty Nine

Elise Muldroomon, Princess of Dremaldria, fumed as she stormed down the long marble hall towards the library. How dare Ewzad send her away like that? She was a guest in his home. She was no servant to be summoned and dismissed at will. She had half a mind to leave the castle at once.

Her heart jumped with pleasure at the thought. Could she do it? Could she really leave? Surely some of the commoners that were helping to build this place would take her home. They would have to if she asked, wouldn’t they? They were her people after all, even if they lived in Ewzad's dukedom.

With a sigh, she brushed the thought aside. She knew she was fooling herself. Ewzad wasn't his old self anymore. She thought of the odd look in his eyes and bizarre way of speaking and frowned. He wouldn't let her leave now. The Ewzad she used to know would, but not the Ewzad with the sunken cheeks and the maniacal laugh. Like it or not, she was a prisoner here.

Her back straightened at that admission. She was only a prisoner if she let herself be. She wasn’t some average whimpering noblewoman, unable to defend herself. She could take advantage of her time in Duke Vriil's castle. She could find a way to make him let her leave. Ewzad had taught her everything he knew about political intrigue after all.

Elise smiled. She would take control. She knew how to manipulate people. She had been manipulating Ewzad for years after all. A soft word, a brush of her lips on his cheek. That is all it took to get him to see things her way.
Until recently, of course.
Those rings of his had too great a hold on him.

She would just have to step up her efforts to persuade him. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of what she might have to do. No, she was resolute. If Ewzad wouldn't let her leave, the joke was on him. She would end up running his little dukedom and if he didn't like it, he could just send her back to Dremald.

Elise giggled at the thought of driving the duke crazy. She decided to start her plans right away.  No longer would she sit in Ewzad’s library pretending to be interested in his boring books.
But where to start?
She needed more than just feminine wiles. She needed leverage.

She looked about to make sure that no one was around to see her and snuck down a side hallway. For once she was glad that the Duke hadn’t given her many servants. They would just be in the way.

Elise had only been in this area of the castle once before, but she knew that Ewzad’s room was down there somewhere. Long ago, Ewzad had taught her that a person’s private quarters was the best place to find out their secrets. Perhaps she would find something in his room that would tell her how to best implement her plans. She might even find something of such a deliciously sensitive nature that she would not have to stoop to any baser methods of getting her way at all. The thought of using Ewzad’s teachings against him was a delectable one.

The long hallway was unlike the other parts of the castle. There were no tapestries, no silver candelabra, only a single red striped carpet that covered the floor. There were also no rooms off of the hall, only a few closets.

The hallway ended in a single gold inlaid door. As she approached it, she couldn’t help but smile. It felt like the old days before her father banished Ewzad when they used to plot together and sneak around. That was when Ewzad Vriil had been her friend.

Elise looked around to make sure that she was still alone, then reached into the deep pockets of her dress and found the little box holding the lock picks Ewzad had given her as a gift years ago. First, she tried the doorknob gently to see how stiff the resistance would be. To her surprise, the door opened. Why would Ewzad forget to lock his door?

One of the first things Ewzad had taught her was to always keep your sensitive items secure. One must never leave their bedroom unlocked and if possible they should have a secondary lock in case the first one failed. She had taken that advice to heart. Even her servants couldn’t get into her rooms unless she was present. Which reminded
her,
those rooms were going to need a thorough dusting by the time she got home.

The first thing she noticed once she had stepped inside the room was the temperature. It was hot, stiflingly so. There was also the unpleasant smell of stale sweat. Ewzad hadn’t taken care of himself since acquiring his precious rings. He used to be so fastidious.

 She had expected to find a large elaborate bed like the one in his rooms in Castle Dremald, but the bed here was pitiful, little more than a cot with a few pillows on it. A large desk piled high with arcane instruments took up the majority of the room. This was where Elise decided to start.

As she passed the bed, Elise found the source of the heat in the room. There was a large wrapped bundle in the corner, about waist high. It was egg-shaped and a faint red glow emanated from it. She thought to inspect it, but the heat around the thing was so intense that she wondered how the blankets wrapping it didn’t go up in flames. Elise decided to leave it alone. There was no sense in burning herself.