Windcatcher: Book I of the Stone War Chronicles (12 page)

Some prisoners locked down there had not seen daylight for years. In the unlikely event that a person was released, they were often frail, skittish shells of their former selves, unfit to function in normal society. Freedom for them was a cruel joke. Many released prisoners dove off the bridge by the main gate as soon as they were released…preferably head first.

It looked like today was no different from any other, as some unlucky bastard was being worked on by the palace torturer. High pitched screams bounced off the walls all the way into the tower Koltar climbed. It brought a smile to his face. Perhaps he would have some time later to swing by. It had been a while since he scratched that restless itch.

Koltar wondered what his lordship summoned him for. If he was requested in person, it must be of some importance. Perhaps it had something to do with High General Setra returning this morning. Koltar was aware of the mission Corza Setra had been sent on, although details had not been shared with him.

Many months ago, Corza had left with a sizable force, marching straight toward the border of the White North. Koltar had been furious at the time, as many of his platoon’s experienced fighters had been reassigned to join the march, leaving him to train all new recruits to fill his dwindling ranks. It had taken months to get back to a sufficient level of defensive power, leaving their territory weak and vulnerable to intruders.

After a few more stairway twists and a number of hallways, Koltar finally arrived at the auditorium.

“….please lord, please have mercy. We didn’t intend to deceive you. We just love her so much. We…we couldn’t let her go...”

Koltar saw a woman sniffling and pleading on the floor. A man—presumably her husband—was next to her, holding her shoulders, hugging her, trying to comfort her.

In front of the couple, a few steps led up to a throne. It was made from the same black cold stone as the palace, its polished surface glittered in the light of the many torches and candles in the room. On top of the throne sat a man in a black cloak. The fabric seemed to flow as the black color on the outside looked like liquid, moving all the time. It was made of the world’s finest velvet. The inside was a crimson red, which seemed to adopt a lot of the darkness of the surrounding black. The man wearing the cloak sat relaxed, one leg crossed flat over the other, looking down bored at the scene taking place in front of him. His right hand, completely covered by the cloak, tapped softly on the throne’s armrest, while his left hand rested against the side of his head. His skin looked an unhealthy color of gray.

Nobody knew exactly how many years the Stone King had been around, but Koltar remembered that his father once told him that his grandfather had served in the Stone King’s army for many summers.

Whenever his father took his anger out on them, he would always state some nonsense like:

“Your grandfather, now there was a hard man. Ruthless, successful and a fighter, I am just trying to keep up the family tradition.”

If that were true the Stone King had to be almost a hundred years in age. However, the man sitting on the black throne did not look that old. Apart from his unhealthy skin tone, he did not even look to be an elderly man yet, rather more a man just passing his fortieth year.

His long face was just beginning to show deep lines around his eyes and mouth. It accentuated the line of his jaw, which was long, ending in a sharp chin. That his skin had little color was not uncommon for people living in the main capital though, as little sunshine would ever break through the clouds so far up north. The sharp, hawk-like nose gave his face a stern look.

The king’s hair had not abandoned him yet. Hanging straight down, it was completely white, which stood in great contrast against all the black. It was still plentiful, cut just above the shoulders, and held in check by, what looked like, a simple flat iron ring which looped all around his head. Upon closer viewing, the iron ring was shown to be a crown, heavily engraved with all kinds of etched drawings and even a single black gem stone inserted in it.

“Please lord, I shouldn’t have let her convince me to try and hide. We didn’t know what we were doing. As soon as she was born, she put us under her love spell,” whimpered the man.

From the plain clothes they wore, it was obvious the man and woman were peasants.

Newcomers into the city, who most likely came from the settlements in the wilderness to seek a better life, away from the dangers of the wild. The man looked desperate, his eyes darting between the man on the throne and the Darkened standing a small ways from them. The Silent Shadow had a small bundle in his large hands; it moved slightly. Small sounds could be heard coming from it. As far as Koltar could see, it appeared to be a baby, no more than a week old.

“Please lord, spare our daughter. Don’t take her from us. We’ll have more children for you!”

The king’s mouth twisted.

“You know the law! All firstborns are to be delivered to the palace on the day of birth! Disobeying is a serious offense!”

His head turned sharply as he looked over his left shoulder.

“I know they need to be punished!” he said to the empty space beside him, “you don’t have to remind me every damn moment.”

He moved his gaze back to the couple. Both man and woman had shrunk backward by the sharp tone and icy stare that followed. The small infant, ignorant of the scene before, sensed something was not right now and broke into a scream. Koltar saw the Darkened look down with a hollow stare.

“We try to make it easy for people,” the king continued, “providing midwives that make sure the child is
taken
right away, so you do not need to
give
your child away. It prevents the love spell from taking a hold of you. So tell me, why did you not send for your midwife?”

“We did, milord! But she was out on an errand and the baby came too fast. I told my wife we had to give her up, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted to get away, leave the city. There was no reasoning with her, so what is a man to do but protect his family!”

The man was visibly torn between wanting to save his wife and protecting his child. Tears ran down his cheeks, while he frantically clutched his chest to demonstrate his heartache.

“Milord, I beg you, spare my daughter. I’ll do anything. I’ll . . . I’ll work the mines for you. Just reunite the child with her mother. She’ll die from a broken heart if you take away our daughter now!”

The king’s face darkened.

“You expect me to show mercy after you knowingly broke the firstborn law? Hiding your wife and child! Pretending you were more special than your neighbors! Believing you have a right to run away and live free of the consequences of your actions!”

The woman started sobbing heavily, while her husband tried his best to comfort her.

“No, my dear man,” said the king, with a voice as cold as ice, “you will be held responsible for your actions. Take the child away and give it to the priest.”

“No! Please, no!”

The woman screamed as she tried to scramble to her feet to reach her child. Her husband put all his strength into holding her back, lest the Darkened cut her down without a second thought. The woman’s wail would’ve been heartbreaking to anyone who heard it. But it fell on deaf ears with Koltar, who could not be bothered to care.

Everyone knew about the firstborn law, which was introduced ten years ago, and how strictly it was enforced. Having no kids of his own—that he knew of—he could not care less about some stupid law involving newborns.

Few really knew what happened to the babies that were taken away, but no parent had ever seen their first child again. The couple was lucky that they had not been killed on the spot, which probably had more to do with the fact that they were discovered by a midwife—who did not know how to handle the situation—instead of a Silent Shadow. It might have been more merciful, too; a Darkened would not have bothered to leave them alive.

Again the Stone King turned his head to the left. Koltar had grown somewhat accustomed to it, but there remained something disturbing about the scene of his lordship talking to someone only he appeared to see and hear.

“What do you suggest we do with them?” he said, followed by a moment of silence. He grinned.

“I like that!”

For the second time, his gaze went back to the couple, as his lordship continued.

“I agree that an example is in order.”

The king’s eyes seemed to reflect the darkness of the palace. Not even the stare of a timber wolf would be considered so lacking in compassion.

“Guards! Take them away. Break the woman’s feet, so she won’t be able to run away anymore. For the husband, cut off one ear, so he will be less inclined to listen to his wife’s treacherous ideas.”

“No, please my lordship! Have mercy!” screamed the man, as his widened eyes stared up in disbelief toward the throne.

The woman shivered and sobbed, grieving too much to even take notice. She looked up in shock as the Stone King brought down his covered fist on the armrest of his throne. A deep rumble echoed through the hall.

“Silence!” his voice thundered, “you are hereby ordered to have at least two more children. Both will be handed over to the priests. If your wife is not pregnant by the turn of the season, she will be given to the guards for their entertainment, until she is with child, and perhaps even after that. Now disappear from my sight, before I change my mind and decide your lives have lost their value.”

As the man and woman were dragged away by guards, the man kicked, screamed and begged, while the woman could do nothing more than whimper as tears streaming out of her eyes. The shouts were heard long after they left the auditorium.

High General Setra entered the auditorium as the couple was dragged out, but gave them little attention. It was nothing he had not seen before. Walking up to Koltar, Corza greeted him stiffly.

“High General Wayler.”

“High General Setra,” Koltar returned, with the smallest of nods.

Anyone saw there was no love, or even friendliness, between the two High Generals. Koltar considered Corza a weasel and a coward. Slimy, sneaky, treacherous.

Corza came from a very different background. Born into wealth within the city, he never wanted for anything. The Setra family belonged to the self-proclaimed elite of the city. A tight group of people, who were more than happy to use their power to assist the Stone King with his plans. His mother and father were always ready to help out their son, even when his sadistic side got him into trouble at one of the whorehouses.

Corza had developed a preference for young, inexperienced girls, at an early age. Any girl unlucky enough to get chosen would never leave a meeting unscathed, or on occasion, never leave at all.

Whorehouses that complained about the loss of income were easily bought off. And if that was not enough, it seemed an unexpected accident usually solved problems that money could not solve on its own. It was his opinion that whores must be very clumsy with fire, as three whorehouses burned down to the ground in the last two summers.

Apparently, Corza was great at battle tactics, but none of the tactics Koltar could appreciate. Koltar was more direct, relying on brute force. He had a tendency to feel great discontent toward people using an indirect approach. He expected Corza would rather use poison and deceit in place of a properly challenged duel.

As they walked toward the Stone King, his lordship descended from his throne and came to meet them at the bottom of the steps. Looking at Corza, Koltar found that he looked to be a lesser version of the man that left those many months ago with thousands of their soldiers on a classified mission.

Koltar knew something big was going on, but the Stone King tenaciously kept information on a strictly need to know basis. This way, no one knew the full plan except for the Stone King himself.

The march they had undertaken must have been rough, taking its toll on the men, including the High General himself. Once the fat and energy reserves in a body were gone, the body started to burn its own muscles to keep warm and to provide energy.

Corza looked tired and almost frail, despite the fact that he was quite tall. He was at least two inches taller than Koltar, which made him an interesting sparring partner when they practiced their sword skills together, occasionally. But now, he looked like a man ready to topple over from the smallest gust of wind. His armor did not seem to fit right anymore, having too much room in the shoulders and waist.

Both men came to a halt just short of the steps, as they saluted the king with their right hands on their hearts, bowing their heads slightly downward.

“Lord Rictor,” Koltar said to the man who sat on the throne, “you wanted to see us?”

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Please, walk with me.”

As they left the auditorium, they walked through the main hallway toward one of the larger balconies on the side of the palace. Once there, the Stone King turned to them.

“What do you see when you look at this,” he said, while stretching his arm toward the city and onward toward the horizon.

Koltar looked at Corza, wondering if he had any idea what this was about; but Corza remained silent, his gaze locked straight ahead.

“I see the city, milord...and the wilderness beyond,” Koltar finally said.