The Madness of Gods and Kings (22 page)

“We lost brothers, fathers, and friends. Somewhere along the way we managed to lose a part of ourselves. Each of us has left a little piece on a frozen battlefield. We’ve changed. Adapted through struggle and the forging on war can accomplish. I’ve never been more proud of any group of soldiers.” He paused, taking a moment to look across the sea of faces staring up at him. Hope inspired them. The promise of looking upon their own kingdom again after so long. “I wish I could tell you job well done, but not yet. Much remains to be done. Our beloved kingdom, the very same one that we travelled hundreds of leagues to defend, has been usurped by Harnin One Eye.”

Murmurs rippled through the vanguard. Oaths of vengeance mixed with gasps of disbelief from those who hadn’t listened to the rumors yet.

Piper continued, “The One Eye has stolen everything good about our homes and transformed Delranan into a mockery of its former grandeur. We came to Rogscroft to conquer but found unexpected allies in the ranks of our foes. Rogscroft is no longer in danger. Through your efforts we’ve helped to find a new beginning out of the ashes of what we helped destroy. I know many of you are confused by this sudden turn in events. I confess I was as well. But wars are fluid beasts. They change with the wind at times. So the winds now blow back to Delranan.”

He was forced to pause again as shouts of encouragement and vows of redemption rose from the men. A good omen if ever that was one.

He continued when they finally burned out. “We don’t know what we’re going to find when we cross the mountains. We speculate Harnin has been waging a war for the very soul of Delranan. Any opposed to him would be hunted down and killed. Rumors of a rebellion engulfing the land have reached us. Supposedly hundreds of civilians have already been killed. All for a madman’s glory! To each of you I stand and say no more! The hour of despots has come to an end. This is our time. Our glory! We march on our ancient homeland with fire in our hearts. Our people suffer under totalitarian rule while winter continues to ravage. We are the last hope for what remains. We are the future of Delranan. Who will step forth and claim destiny as his own?”

They surged to their feet. Fists rose to the sky. Cheers erupted across the formation. Piper’s heart swelled with pride. Sweat beaded across his brow. He didn’t think he had that sort of speech in him, but now that he’d delivered to rousing ovation, he felt he could conquer the world. Being a leader was both difficult and consuming, but it was also intimately rewarding. He drew his sword and raised it high to the sky. “For Delranan!”

The vanguard echoed, “For Delranan!”

The vanguard slowly rolled out of the encampment before dawn of the following day. Piper and Vajna rode side by side. The Rogscroft general found companionship in the enigmatic, and slightly standoffish, Wolfsreik commander. Despite cultural differences they were the same. Soldiers’ lives meant more than ground taken. They fought alongside their men, even taking places among the ranks from time to time. Both bore respect for the other, making them a lethal combination to confront on the field. Vajna learned to enjoy riding with Piper, if for no other reason than it helped him escape being in charge for a while.

“I hope this works,” Aurec told Rolnir as they watched rank after rank of horsemen plod by. “We’re taking an awful chance.”

Rolnir mused over the king’s words. Only a day ago their opinions had been opposite. “I thought I was the one that was supposed to be in doubt? Piper and Vajna are very good at what they do. I wouldn’t trust this mission with anyone else. They’ll link up with the Pell and either find their way into Delranan or get into one nasty fight along the way.”

“General Rolnir, I believe you are finally back in your proper element,” Aurec said with sly grin.

Rolnir folded his arms across his chest.
I certainly hope so, young Aurec. I certainly hope so.
The vanguard continued to march.

Hatred’s Heart

She stabbed again and again. Ropes of blood whipped off the blade each time it ripped from the flesh. Anger, hatred, and pure malevolence dripped from her soul. She felt empowered each time she stabbed the helpless body pinned against the wall of thorns before her. Pain echoed deep in those eyes, the wounding of the soul beyond compare. It inspired her. Drove her deeper into fits of delicious agony that only pain could satisfy. She continued to stab until the body hung limp. Blood pooled at her feet. With a last gasp, a gentle rattle, the body found peace through death.

It wasn’t good enough. Maleela stabbed harder. Faster. Her intensity picked up as she expunged years of mistreatment. Years of neglect that had anchored deep within the wells of her heart. She became vengeance. She became hatred. Only when her strength faded did she drop the now dull dagger and look upon her work. Hundred of deep stab wounds scarred the corpse. She reveled in delivering such damage.

Maleela looked upon the glossed-over eyes of her victim: her father. He’d gotten what he deserved. The same as all those ever snubbed her or ignored her when she needed attention the most deserved. A cold, painful death stretching for hours. Reaching out, she gently touched her father’s mangled face and laughed. Vengeance was finally hers!

She awoke with a startled scream. Bad images choked her. Violence immobilized her. Maleela struggled to comprehend what the act of murdering her father meant. For more years than she cared to count the princess of Delranan managed to keep her true feelings private. Her father hated her, and she likewise. But a good daughter and worthy member of the royal family would never let it show. It was the worst-kept secret in the kingdom.

Maleela drew her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. Her only thoughts were of ending this nightmare and trying to find some semblance of peace. Days stretched into one long experience of sheer torment. Hours of endless waiting in near perfect darkness mixed with moments of inspired terror when her captors visited. She’d been lost at first. Her mind refused to accept what her body was going through. Slowly, oh so slowly, Maleela began to suspect she was prisoner of the Dae’shan. Everything about her situation suggested it.

Despair began to take root. Past conversations between Anienam and Rekka Jel played through her mind over and again. What little they knew of the eternal enemies inspired stark fear. Their quest to stop the Dae’shan led them down dark, twisted roads best left untraveled. She’d left pieces of herself along the way, culminating with the murder of Ionascu. Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps not. She stole that decision away by brutally ending his life in the jungle while the others were trying to fend off a pair of Gnaals.

More impossible creatures never meant to exist. How cruel this world is. To live with the promise of hope only to have it ripped away when you least expect it
. She wondered if Bahr still lived. The Gnaals were fearsome leftovers from the Mage wars, born of magic. Anienam said only magic could destroy them. She didn’t recall seeing any magic being employed before running off into the jungle.

Maleela found it odd that she missed her uncle so much. Bahr had never been there for her during her youth, save for the occasional visit delivering gifts from distant lands. His choice to abandon Delranan diminished her respect for him. That respect begrudgingly returned the longer the quest lasted as he’d proved himself time and again. He was, realistically, the only family she had left. Closing her exhausted eyes, Maleela wept herself back to sleep.

* * * * *

“She continues to show remarkable resilience to your wiles,” Kodan Bak teased. His distaste of Amar Kit’han’s devolving leadership was evident in each syllable.

Amar kept his eyes on the sleeping princess. “Can you not feel it? Her spirit is breaking. Each new torment drives her closer to my arms. Soon she will awaken to find a new world. One filled with wretched possibilities. She is breaking, Kodan Bak.”

“Too slowly. The time is approaching faster than she is changing. We must either break her now or find another.”

“There is no other. Badron proved most wasteful. His greed and avarice transformed him into something much darker than our needs require. He is a most unpleasant creature bent on revenge rather than opening the nexus.” Amar shifted slightly to get a better view of his subordinate. Thoughts of killing Kodan Bak once again entertained him.

“A creature you created through poor manipulation,” Kodan said and frowned. He felt as if they’d been locked in the same stagnant conversation for months, neither point of view garnering any support from the other. A stalemate that needed breaking. “He will become a problem for us. You know Badron is already back in Delranan attempting to reclaim his throne. Should he and the One Eye rejoin sides and take the fight to us….”

“Why would that happen? Logic dictates the deposed monarch will do everything in his power to remove Harnin by force. There is no love lost between them. Pelthit Re has seen to that. Harnin won’t bother with speaking to his former liege. He and Badron will make war, thus distracting them to the point where they won’t notice an army of Goblins marching in from the south to seize control while you and I use the young princess to open the Olagath Stone and release the dark gods.” He licked his lower lip. “All is proceeding as foretold. We are on the precipice of accomplishing our purpose.”

“You place too much faith in those undeserving of it,” Kodan countered. “The first Goblin army failed miserably. Their corpses burn even now in Rogscroft. What can this new army hope to accomplish with not only the Wolfsreik standing against them, but Rogscroft and the Pell Darga as well? Whispers have reached my ears of the Dwarves preparing to march west, with Faeldrin at their head and his Elf spawn Aeldruin. Our enemies are banding together and you insist on focusing on this wretched girl. She is not the one.”

“She is all we have!” Amar roared. He began collecting power in his hands, tempted to lash out and destroy Kodan. Patience calmed him, if barely. “Perhaps you are right, Kodan Bak. Perhaps there are too many loose strings still in play.”

Kodan glanced down at the electricity dancing across Amar’s knuckles. “They will need to be cut before the time arrives.”

“Indeed. I believe we should begin in Delranan. The impending battle between Harnin and Badron might prove too costly for us. I don’t want the upstart king of Rogscroft marching into Delranan unopposed. It might be time for us to draw to a close the war between usurper and usurped. Summon Pelthit Re. The time has finally come for him to uphold his end of our arrangement.”

“As you wish,” Kodan replied casually. He briefly dwelled on Amar striking him while his back was turned. A coward’s way but one Amar Kit’han had no qualms of using.

Amar Kit’han watched him dissolve into the nether and turned his thoughts towards other endeavors. The world was changing much too rapidly for him to keep track of it all. Grugnak’s army proved most disappointing, though Amar never took into account the possible betrayal by the Wolfsreik. Their combat power would have changed matters entirely. He and the other Dae’shan wouldn’t be in this situation if not for Rolnir’s decision to side with his kingdom over his king. Amar had a special torment designed for the rogue general.

Aurec was no major issue. He was simply the newly crowned king of Rogscroft--a kingdom that technically didn’t exist any longer and had little resources to spare for a prolonged campaign in the west. His army would facilitate the return of the Wolfsreik and fade back to their broken lands. The Goblins had been successful in one aspect: they burned and killed their way across Rogscroft until it was but a shell of its former glory. He placed a lot of faith in this new Goblin army arriving in time, though he doubted they would. Already the troublesome Dwarves managed to delay their march by an entire day, killing or wounding an incredible amount in the process.

He thought. It would take some doing and no small amount of power but Amar might be able to open a portal long enough to bridge the space between Rogscroft and Delranan, eliminating the time it would take to march the distance. Fifty thousand snarling savages from the Deadlands would hamper any reconstruction plans Rolnir or Aurec held and finally push the Olagath Stone past being filled. Such delightful torments would allow for the return of his masters. For now it was merely pleasant thought. He was going to have to ask Kodan Bak to aid him in opening the portal.

Amar didn’t appreciate not being able to accomplish difficult tasks on his own. However, the possibility of the most minor operation going wrong presented him with all sorts of amusing thoughts. Perhaps he could finally arrange for Kodan Bak’s untimely demise and be done with the sordid mess. Amused, the Dae’shan resumed his vigil over the gradually declining princess of Delranan. He’d only just begun.

A Rat Drawn Out

Harnin stared at the corpse blocking the main entrance to Chadra Keep with obvious disgust. He’d once viewed Jarrik as a rival to the crown. This was before the man began to change, grow more sympathetic to the rebellion. Seeing his nearly frozen body in such deliberate suffering brought only minor satisfaction. Harnin had wanted Skaning to handle the matter personally, not allow Jarrik the option of suicide. Yet another episode of incompetence to add to a growing list.

Most of the old council of nobles was dead. Skaning struggled to maintain Wolfsreik presence in the west. Heimdol hadn’t been seen since the rebellion began, leading Harnin to suspect the fat redhead was either a traitor or dead. Not that it was much of a loss. Heimdol hadn’t accomplished much over the last few years, certainly nothing to warrant looking into the situation. Harnin’s most concern stemmed from Ulfdane. While the youth had been instrumental in flushing Argis out, he’d been laying low since.

He debated sending the youth out to the eastern defenses just to get him out from underfoot. Each day that sped by brought the Wolfsreik closer to returning. While Harnin hadn’t been out to the arranged defenses he suddenly found it difficult to place faith in his commanders. Perhaps the time had come for him to visit the front. He’d always been the kind of man who needed to see matters for himself, seldom relying on the whims of others. Disappointed by the failure of so many he’d claimed to have once trusted, Harnin contemplated replacing the council of nobles with stronger men of his choosing.

Delranan was weak, gutted by the rebellion and the vast amount of support personnel following the army east. Harnin lacked the resources and manpower to establish a firm grasp on his kingdom. Standing atop the wall of Chadra Keep, he gazed down upon the ruins of the capital city. The refugee columns were mostly gone. Those few choosing to remain struggled to stay alive as winter continued to ravage the north.

The fools. They should have run when they had the chance
. Harnin wanted to view the survivors with admiration but could only find disdain. As far as he was concerned, the entire population needed to be put to death for aiding and abetting the rebellion. He was certain many of those who stayed had been allied against him. Killing them served no other purpose than instant gratification. His hands were permanently stained with the blood of civilians. What difference did a few hundred more make?

Inspiration struck suddenly. Pillars of smoke drifted up from hovels patched together. Storm clouds edged closer to Chadra, threatening rain. Harnin shivered. The stubborn survivors in the city might be able to aid in the war effort after all. He needed bodies to fill in the gaps in the lines on the eastern defenses. Whether they wanted to fight or not, he aimed to conscript the entire population of Chadra for the coming fight. Snorting, he decided to use the children as shields to stop the Wolfsreik. No professional soldier wanted to kill women or children. That natural reluctance might prove beneficial for Harnin’s plans.

“Usurper.”

Harnin stiffened. His one eye narrowed sharply at the sudden sound of his most-hated foe’s voice.

Succumbing to the Dae’shan had been simplistic at the time. Their promises of wealth and power enticed him to abandon all of the principles with which he’d lived his life. Greed propagated his desire to become more than history intended. Now he was all but a slave to his desires. Harnin slowly felt life slipping through his fingers, like sand being washed out to sea. His only problem lay in not being able to find a way out of the situation.

“I don’t recall summoning you, demon,” he replied weakly.

Pelthit Re hissed wicked laughter. “As if a mere mortal had the indulgences to summon one of the Dae’shan. I could take your other eye for that insolence.”

Harnin turned to face the monster who laid claim to so much of his life. “If you wanted me dead I would already be swinging from the gibbets. Why have you come this time?”

Pelthit drifted closer. Harnin found it most disturbing how he never seemed to touch the ground. The otherworldly factor in that act alone twisted his stomach. Cold, clear eyes the color of a dying sun glared at the One Eye from beneath the foreboding grey cowl always concealing the Dae’shan’s true nature.

“War is coming, One Eye.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. I’ve been fighting a war for the last few months,” Harnin snapped, reminded of his inability to crush his enemies.

“This is not a civil war, or fruitless rebellion you ignorantly waste your attentions on. Great forces are allying against Delranan. Forces your limited mortal mind cannot comprehend. I would see you come through this new challenge. There is a place for you in our new world order.”

More lies aimed at enticing me further into chains. How much more weight can I bear before I give out and collapse? Will my soul find its way to the halls of my ancestors or will I be damned to walk the face of the world for all time while all I know wilts and fades?

“I’m tired of empty promises. You come to me with sweet words better meant to entice a woman to your bed. What glory is there for a man such as me to blindly obey your whims? I’ve seen much of this world, demon, but I’ve never heard of one like you. Will you make me a king? An emperor perhaps? More likely I will be slaughtered along the way and left to rot in a forgotten corner of Delranan.” Harnin shook his head as resolutely as possible. “I want no part of your schemes. Not anymore.”

“These are not schemes, Usurper. The end of the world is nigh. The dark gods are returning. Where will you stand when they come to claim their heritage? Death is but the least of your concerns,” the Dae’shan soothed. His initial reaction was to reach out and crush the life from Harnin’s throat. Amar Kit’han would be most displeased, for the one eye still had a part to play in the coming war. Reluctantly, Pelthit Re calmed his rising anger. He hadn’t come back to Delranan to kill Harnin, but instead to merely coerce him into the proper direction. “If you should wish it, I will be more than willing to end your life the moment this war is ended. I will tear your soul from your bones so that you may watch as your brittle form withers and crumbles to dust. Your agony will rival a dying god’s, echoing down through eternity. Should you choose it.”

Harnin paled. His bluff called, he bowed meekly. “What do you wish of me?”

Pelthit grinned within the shadows. Breaking Harnin hadn’t proved much of a challenge. In fact, he found it sorely disappointing. Still, Harnin was expendable. Some people were meant to die. “The Wolfsreik approaches with alarming speed and cohesion. Their numbers are swollen thanks to the remnants of Rogscroft and the Pell Darga. You do not have enough resources to withstand the approaching storm.”

Immense sorrow awoke deep within him. Harnin felt his strings steadily ripping from him. Nothing in Delranan was capable of withstanding such a massive, armed force.

“Your situation worsens, Usurper. Badron has already returned. Even now he seeks to garner enough support to sack your northernmost fortress. Should the first one fall, the others will collapse far more quickly than it took to build them.”

Harnin raged. Helpless. Harmless. “What more can I do? Argis’s rebellion is taxing what little strength I have left. Even with him dead I continue to struggle. Continued incompetence by my commanders leaves the rebels ripe to attack us.”

“Worry not over the rebellion. Their fire will burn and fade before long. The one who leads them is strong, but she lacks faith in her cause. Instead you must focus on Badron. He will take back the crown and your head with it. Take what forces you have in Chadra and ride out to the eastern defenses. Meet Badron head-on before he has the opportunity to make an impact. This is the only way.”

“Ride? To the front lines with a massive army heading towards me? Are you mad?”

He couldn’t believe what was being asked. The Dae’shan might be immensely powerful and immortal, but those traits certainly didn’t pass down to Harnin. Already partially crippled and steadily being driven mad, the One Eye wouldn’t accomplish much away from his seat of power in Chadra Keep. He’d become cloistered within the wooden halls without realizing it. Delranan’s seat of power became his tomb.

“No more mad than you, hiding within these pathetic, wooden walls. Do you truly believe this Keep can last forever? How long will the empty ramparts hold back the tide of the Wolfsreik before it crashes over the top and into the halls? Do not be so naïve as to place faith in mortal constructs. Even the mightiest fortress falls.”

Pelthit Re grew tired of this game. He’d undertaken twisting Harnin as a pet project while Amar and Kodan dithered with Badron. Their attentions were fixed on the king of Delranan; Pelthit was able to almost completely transform Harnin into much less than a man. It had been centuries since he last attempted such prolific and irreversible changes, and he found the ordeal less than satisfying. Harnin had been too willing of a subject. If it weren’t for Amar Kit’han’s insistence that Harnin live to confront Badron, he would already be dead.

“You spend your days like a rat trapped within the walls, frightened the rat catchers are awaiting the moment you show your face. This is no kind of life for a man destined for greatness. The dark gods are forgiving, Usurper. They reward those who distinguish themselves in the dark cause.” Pelthit dug deeper, hoping to inspire that last fragment of fear residing deep within Harnin. “Delranan needs strength in the coming days. Total darkness is set to consume Malweir. Entire races will be ground from existence. I would like to see your kingdom rise above the tide and rebuild to greater glory. All it takes is for you to ride out and meet your nemesis before he can do the same to you.”

“Does Badron have even a sliver of a chance of success?” Harnin asked meekly. The anger and fear had bled from his voice. Defeated, he resigned to follow the Dae’shan’s instructions. At this point he’d do anything to retain control of his kingdom.

“He does, but only if you wallow away within these walls,” Pelthit chided. “Conscript the survivors and ride out to meet him. Break him in the wilds and parade his body throughout the kingdom. Only then you will finally attain the strength to undergo the coming struggle.”

Harnin nodded slowly. “I can best Badron. He lacks any support. I can beat him and finally stop looking over my shoulder. But what of the Wolfsreik?”

“One item at a time. Find and kill Badron and the rest will be taken care of. You have my word.” His last few words dissolved along with him, leaving Harnin standing in the echoes of the past.

* * * * *

“How much further? I grow weary of this skulking,” Grugnak growled to the wizened, old man guiding them.

The deposed king of Delranan took a small force of handpicked warriors into the nearest fishing village upon putting in to shore and abducted one who claimed to know the land intimately. Through sputtered protests and more than one attempt at escape, their guide was finally subdued under threat of having his family murdered before his eyes. Badron still didn’t trust him.

Grugnak slathered at his side, eager to slay the fisherman and move on. His hatred for men worsened the longer the Goblin commander was trapped alongside them. His pitiful hundreds were a pale shadow of their former strength. Ten thousand Goblins had marched from the Deadlands under the promise of plundering one of the finer kingdoms of Men. Their initial conquests were drowned under the heels of Wolfsreik boots. He’d stood upon battlefields where his forces were overrun by their former allies. Thousands of his best lay dead, forgotten by all but time. That travesty needed to be avenged.

Badron scowled at the smaller Goblin. “Patience, Grugnak. This gentleman is going to lead us unerringly to the first redoubt. You may kill him later if he doesn’t.”

The old man’s knees trembled, threatening to buckle. He closed his eyes and prayed this nightmare ended soon. “Please, milord. I got a family. Mouths to feed.”

“So did I,” Badron growled menacingly. “Life seldom asks us what we want. Instead it takes from us, ripping and twisting away all of those things that once made life special. Any endearing quality I once possessed lay dead in the halls of my own Keep while a usurper sits upon the throne. Do not think for an instant I won’t allow my Goblin companion to rip your body to shreds just so that he might have fresh meat for supper.”

Throwing his hands up to protect his face, the old man begged, “Please. I wasn’t part of no rebellion. We didn’t know of what happened in Chadra until just recent. I swear.”

Badron’s eyes narrowed warily. “What happened in Chadra?”

He’d known about Harnin’s betrayal and the construction of the defensive positions for some time. Amar Kit’han took pleasure in detailing how the rebellion further stripped away the strength of his kingdom while Harnin struggled just to maintain the semblance of power.

“You…you don’t know?” the old man asked, eyes now wide in shock. “Why, a terrible plague ran through the major towns. More than half the population was wiped out by it, or so we heard. But we’re all the way on the coast and don’t have much interaction with the interior folks. We only just found out when a trader caravan rode through. Said the capital is all but burned to the ground and no more.”

No more? My beloved city burned to the ground under the disease of plague! My beloved kingdom ruined beyond repair! What have I allowed to happen? Harnin will pay for what he’s done. I swear it upon my ancestors. I will strike that one-eyed bastard’s head from his shoulders and feed his body to the wolves
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