The Madness of Gods and Kings (29 page)

“I was warned of your return,” Harnin said. His voice lacked emotion.
It was only through my own ignorance I chose to ignore those warnings. Perhaps you’ve lost a step and I can slip my blade between your ribs before you kill me. Perhaps
.

Badron suffered no doubts. His rage was justice. Memories of betrayal flooded unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The overpowering desire to carve his once closest advisor to pieces propelled him forward.

“Enough banter. Come and meet your destiny, worm,” Badron growled and leapt into an attack.

Harnin blocked the savage, overhand blow, barely. The unleashed power nearly drove him to his knees. Staggering back, he fended off three quick, successive blows aimed at hacking his head off. His arm numbed. Badron was too powerful. The only way Harnin could win was through trickery. Soldiers cheered, calling out to both combatants as if they were gladiators putting on a spectacle.

The king of Delranan forced Harnin back even further, until he was nearly in the ring of defenders. Much to Badron’s surprise, and chagrin, the defenders collectively retreated out of the way. Clearly they intended on serving whoever survived. Buoyed by their complacency, Badron renewed his assault. Harnin continued his retreat, hoping to find the gap in Badron’s attack. Fate remained fickle. Badron lunged for a vicious swing but tripped on a piece of wood from the palisade. Off balance, Harnin had his opportunity.

One Eye stabbed hard. The tip of his sword bit deeply into Badron’s right hip. Blood fountained and ran down his leg. Gasps rang from the crowd. Goblins beat their swords on gnarled shields. Badron staggered back. His face locked in pain. Managing to swat away Harnin’s sword, the king grimaced tightly.

“This has been long in coming,
old friend
,” Harnin sneered.

He was out of breath. Age had been unkind to Harnin One Eye. Fatigue threatened to drive him to his knees. Badron was larger, stronger. Months of campaigning and fleeing across half of the northern world honed his body. The end was never in doubt.

Badron roared a woeful combination of pain and hatred. Both men collided in a tangle of flesh and steel. Elbows drove into ribs. Badron headbutted Harnin. The crack of bones and spray of blood echoed across the courtyard. Harnin’s wild backhand ripped a gash across Badron’s cheek as he reeled back, stunned. The larger king ducked in and tackled Harnin. Bones snapped. Axe and sword skittered across the muddied ground. Filled with intense anger, Badron punched and struck Harnin repeatedly in the face and upper chest. Broken teeth spit out. A cheekbone cracked. Badron punched harder. His fists became hammers, crushing Harnin’s face to a pulp as the smaller man gradually stopped fighting. Badron attacked harder.

Months of pent-up aggression poured from his muscles. Cold breath plumed in the night. Gasps rose from several soldiers. A few recoiled. Only when Badron could no longer lift his fists did he stop. Harnin’s skull was caved in, unrecognizable. The one-eye terror of Delranan was dead, murdered at the hands of the man he once called friend.

Badron rose on unsteady legs. Blood and bits of bone dripped from his torn knuckles. His hands were raw, bleeding. Several knuckles were beaten to the bone. His breathing was heavy, labored. The king of Delranan stared down on the ruined head without compassion. Betrayers got what they deserved. Slowly his hands dropped and he looked out upon those assembled. Semblances of the old king returned. He felt invigorated. Flashbacks from his early days when he’d been forced to prove himself as king peppered his vision.

Killing Harnin was but the first step in the long road of reclamation of his kingdom. Losing the Wolfsreik hurt, but his victory this night showed him he still held power. A commandeering figure by nature, the true king of Delranan came to an inescapable conclusion. He was strong. Delranan belonged to him. Ripe for the taking, he would plunder his way back to Chadra Keep and reestablish his seat of power. The quest began here. Now. He stared out into the crowds and raised his fists high. A long awaited decision was made. All it needed was the execution.

“My first order to you all,” he said, his voice gaining strength, dominating the courtyard. He turned slowly and fixed a malicious glare on Grugnak. “Kill the Goblins!”

The ensuing slaughter last well into the night and when it was ended not a Goblin remained standing.

A Link Breaks

Maleela cowered in her darkened cell. The world had abandoned her, leaving her prone to the victimization of her own despair. Hate crept in to fill the holes in her heart. Endless nights of misery and wasted hours reflecting on all that had gone wrong since Aurec claimed her from her chambers.

Love became a bane. Love killed her brother, though she’d argue it was his own stubbornness. She began to wonder if it had been in Aurec’s plans all along. Getting rid of the heir to the throne was certainly advantageous to Rogscroft. She’d witnessed no evidence of treachery during her brief time with Aurec, however. Yet now that she’d had ample opportunity to think back she found it startling and odd. Her captors whispered, hinted when they thought she wasn’t paying attention, of the fall of Rogscroft. Of King Stelskor’s head on a pike above the city wall. No mention was made of Aurec other than his deceitful heart that caused the downfall of two major kingdoms.

Each moment strung into one successive misery. Maleela became her own worst enemy. Her thoughts clouded into miasmic hatred. The blame spread to all involved. She hated her father for never giving her the love a daughter needed. She’d never asked to be born and most certainly had no aspirations to kill her mother during childbirth. She hated her uncle for abandoning Delranan over a private vendetta. While he sailed the seas making a name, the rest of her family languished under disinterest. She hated Aurec for stealing her away in the manner he did. How many lives were lost due to the impatience of his love? She hated Anienam Keiss for concealing important information--information she felt she needed in order to become the queen her people deserved--from her at every turn.

Hate became her companion. She welcomed the cold embrace, breathing the darkness into the depths of her soul. Revenge became a driving factor. She needed to feel the satisfaction of taking all of her rage and pent-up, recessed emotion out on those who’d wronged her. She ached to feel the blood of her victims slip between her fingers as they breathed their last breath. One by one she entertained the delicious murder of all she now felt nothing but hate towards.

Maleela closed her eyes. Fists clenched in helplessness, she struggled not to weep. Once, her tears would have flown freely. She was the sort who wore her heart on her sleeve shamelessly. That heart withered and died within the unbreakable darkness of her cell. Trapped and alone, she struggled to push past the obstacle of being kidnapped in a strange land. One day soon she would escape and wreak her vengeance on the north.

A sharp click followed by the sudden rush of wind blowing into the cell told her she once again had a visitor. Maleela slowly raised her head, in no mood for the paltry mind games the Dae’shan seemed intent on playing. Pale, almost absent light filtered into the cell to form an elongated rectangle on the floor. She was forced to shield her eyes from the dazzling light. Long moments stretched into minutes without any sign of her tormentors.

“Come to me or close the door. I am in no mood for games this day,” she demanded with what little strength remained in her voice.

Her throat was raw. The words raspy. Muck clogged the corners of her eyes. Her nose ached from the consistent drip she’d suffered during her internment. The Dae’shan delighted in her manipulation. Of that she was certain. Only a being so foul to be assured of condemnation in the blackest of the seven hells could derive any sort of amusement from the suffering of others. Scowling, mind filled with venomous oaths she intended on delivering, Maleela gradually opened her eyes.

The gentle, almost unperceivable sound of the wind answered her demands. She caught herself holding her breath. Anticipation of what might happen had her acting like a child. She was the princess of Delranan. The sole surviving heir to throne. Any evil awaiting her demanded to be met on her terms. Slowly pulling herself to her feet, Maleela wobbled on unsteady legs. Her muscles were underused. She lacked strength, further telling of how long she’d been confined by the Dae’shan.

Grim determination filled her. Visions of murder propelled her from the cell. Her vision swam. Spots peppered between light and dark. Maleela groaned as her stomach squeezed, nearly forcing her to double over.
Cramps. I haven’t eaten much lately and feel dehydrated
. None of that mattered. Her one goal was escaping this nightmare and exacting revenge on those listed in her mind.

Dirty, gnarled fingers curled around the door frame. She took her first step outside the cell. The pale light of the moon showered down around her. Without warmth, she began shivering uncontrollably. The sudden whooshing sounds echoing down a long, straight path snapped her head up. Torches flickered to life, marking the path. Instantly suspicious, the princess reflexively reached for her weapons that weren’t there. Yet another measure of humbling she’d been forced to endure.

“More games,” she murmured. “I am tired of games. Very well, let us add your names to my list of victims. I will break you on the strength of my will. You will be my first trophies.”

Feeling her old strength gradually return, Maleela struck down the path in search of answers she knew she shouldn’t get. The vagaries of life seemed intent on playing their own games, however, and she was but a pawn. She passed the first set of torches, startled with how they extinguished the moment she passed. Time forced her hand. She was being led to a darker place, perhaps freedom awaiting her at the end.

Maleela took a moment to study her surroundings. Massive thorn bushes lined the way, broken intermittently by a pair of torches. Each thorn was larger than her thumb and secreted an oily substance she subconsciously knew to be poison. The ground was uneven, rocky. Vines snaked across the way, threatening to trip her. She knew that any fall would spell her demise. The vines bore nefarious intent. She sensed it. Traps within traps. Lord Death was coming for her, of that she bore no doubt.

Shoeless, she danced in and around the vines, noticing the membrane-thin spines similar to a caterpillar.
Dead in an instant. It appears I am not meant long for this world
. Maleela carried on, doing her best to avoid the multiple levels of danger surrounding her. She stifled an unexpected yawn. Exhaustion and hunger were as much her enemies as the Dae’shan and her family.
Only I can’t kill either of them. My best bet is finding shelter and drinkable water before the dawn. Otherwise
….

She let the thought fade. One step at a time. Anything else all but condemned her to a fate worse than death. Maleela prided herself on the depth of her courage and strength. She was the daughter of kings, a fact few counted among her many qualities. Those doubters would suffer for their ignorance. She was the whirlwind, set to sweep across the northern kingdoms. All shall wither and despair.

The path gradually widened into a semicircle clearing. Conical stones ringed the perimeter. Each was marred with ancient runes. Forgotten languages from long dead cultures whispered hints of what fate awaited Malweir. Maleela cared less. She’d run the gauntlet only to end up in another trap. Worse, she wasn’t alone. A hooded figure stood with feet planted shoulder width apart. His head was bowed, doing little to conceal his massive form. A long sword was stabbed into the ground. A second, smaller sword was planted likewise only a few meters in front of her. Clearly she’d been led here for battle.

Maleela’s heart quickened. All thoughts of revenge melted in the confines of her mind.
Perhaps I’m not ready to launch my campaign of retribution just yet, provided I survive this. The world is ever against me, but I am strong. All the others forgot that. Treated me like a child. Abandoned my needs and wishes for their own selfish reasons. Today I will prove them all wrong. Today I will break this man over my knee and let his blood grease my desires. Today.

“You’re mistaken,” a familiar voice responded to her thoughts. “Today is the last of your wretched life. I should have flung you from the Keep’s walls after you were born.”

She froze. Impossibility sent her well-laid plans spiraling down, crashing around her feet like so much glass.
That voice. It can’t be. It can’t
. “Father.”

Badron reached up and removed his hood, revealing his time-weathered face. His eyes were hard, reminding her of flint. “You were a mistake. No more than an unfortunate reminder that men aren’t as infallible as we like to believe. Have you come to meet your end?”

“How are you here?” she asked, confusion lingering, momentarily blocking her hatred. “Have the Dae’shan captured you as well?”

Badron pulled the sword from the ground. “I should have stopped with your brother. No king wants daughters. Worthless specimens unfit to hold the crown. Your brother died protecting you. It should have been you.”

Tears welled. Maleela fought to keep them in. Her slight fists clenched, trembling in building rage. “His death wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course not. Why should you admit guilt? You murdered your mothe….”

“I DIDN’T KILL MY MOTHER!” Maleela roared at the top of her lungs and lunged forward to rip her sword from the ground. Dirt and stone trailed the tempered steel blade as she brought it around to a high guard and closed on her father.

Badron laughed in her face, daring her to proceed. She did. Growling like one of the wild beasts she’d spied in the Jungles of Brodein, Maleela charged. Badron blocked her first savagely swung blow and used her momentum to shove her further. She stumbled a few steps before stopping and turning. Her face darkened with hatred. Two decades of living like an unwanted shadow changed her core. She attacked again.

Three successive swings struck his sword. Badron grunted once, forced to take a step backwards. Her strength surprised him. He parried, desperate to fend off her frenzied assault. Finally gaining a little space between them, Badron raised his sword for the killing stroke. Maleela was quicker. She ducked under his upraised arms and slashed across his stomach. The widening line of deep red was her reward.

Badron’s eyes centered. His sword dropped, clattering against the ground. Large hands fumbled to keep his guts from spilling out. Blood frothed on his lips. He cocked his head, giving her one final look of incredulity before her blade swung through his neck. His head rolled away as she collapsed. Unfamiliar emotions roiled through her mind and heart. Maleela glared at the corpse in triumph.

Any victory was short lived. Badron’s body dissolved in a cloud of acrid smoke. The rocks, thorns, and torches followed, leaving her alone in a strange place. An illusion. It had all been an illusion. A haunting orange glow bathed the area. She looked up to see two of the Dae’shan materialize before her. Their robes promised the darkest future while beckoning to her. Maleela stared deep into the hypnotic allure of that darkness and felt the promise of true hope. She meant to become the tyrant queen her people deserved.

“What games do you tease me with?” she demanded.

Amar Kit’han hovered closer, allowing her to witness the horrors of his face for the very first time. When he spoke, his tone was soothing, comforting. “A necessary test. We were…unsure of your abilities.”

“You’ve cheated me, demon,” Maleela ground through clenched teeth. “His death will be by my hands alone. I will kill my father.”

Amar Kit’han grinned like a wolf from beneath his hood. At last, she’d been broken. The line snapped. Maleela belonged to him.