by Thomas Adams
Some had been sent by for specific tasks by Hraezlan and she left those wretched souls alone and made no attempts to control them. They disappeared into the hills to the west, in route to Vesfalruk. She assumed they went to do her master’s bidding.
As close as she was, the military was still not ready to move on Vesfalruk. But, she was certain it would not be long, all she needed was a few more months. She knew this failure was why the Kûnnabani came.
Was it Arngrim she wondered? She shuddered as her past recollections of that spirit of pure malevolence swept through her mind. The pain and despair caused by Arngrim was best forgotten but somehow she never quite could manage it. It was the most powerful of the three Kûnnabani and she knew it enjoyed inflicting pain, misery and torment on others. It could also control the dead. She shuddered again in recollection, blasted Black Kings of Eldarharmr.
There were only three Kûnnabani. If one was coming here it was significant. Hraezlan was very stingy with them. He used them as his chief protectors and enforcers. Their mere presence meant unspeakable terror and unquenchable pain. He would never send them all over from the Void. At least not yet, she was surprised he sent even one. She could only imagine what this one’s purpose in Crestia was. She doubted Hraezlan would send one here to help her. He was not that magnanimous. Likely it meant she was in trouble and her time was up. It was best to plan for the worst. She was not certain what she could do though to appease it.
It would be here soon. She was pretty certain of that. They moved quickly. A Kûnnabani was hard to explain. It was an undead spirit of course. It could also inhabit and animate a dead form like the other undead. And, they could use the most powerful of archania.
But, it was more than that. It was the soul of someone thrice cursed by the gods. A Kûnnabani was like a miniature void in the Void. Such a soul knew torment on a level few could understand. And, they could inflict the same torment and those unspeakable horrors on others.
Their power was supplied to them by Hraezlan but unknown to him, the Kûnnabani had the ability to hold and build up their power more than any other in the Void. They had an immense capability in this rare ability. They could store power indefinitely and their capacity for power was vast, more so than anything else in the Void. She knew this because she had seen Arngrim exercise this ability before.
They were also very hard to kill. It was rumored even the Gods struggled in that regard. Supposedly only an extremely hot fire or flame could destroy them. Unlike the other undead, the Kûnnabani still kept a tie to their physical remains. If the spirit host of a Kûnnabani was destroyed and the undead earthly remains also destroyed the Kûnnabani’s soul would not return to the Void. It would be gone forever.
She would have to prepare for its arrival. She could not hope to stand against it. She would have to come up with a different strategy to deflect its purpose. She would need to ready Lutvar and his magi, not that they would be able to help her with a Kûnnabani. She rose and summoned several messengers. There was suddenly much to do and very little time to do it.
***
Time passed quickly for Brandt at Reave Hall, although looking back it felt like the days crawled by slowly and intolerably. The reports from the Vesfal scouts said the Emorie troops were still massing around Crestia and Kitar. Master Ivar had regular reports from Drottain Hordalf and he kept the entire Guild appraised of the situation in the Emorie. The general consensus was that the Emorie was still short of the minimum number of legions it would need to attempt an assault on Fortress Cinder. But, the political turmoil and rumor of civil war in the Emorie confused the situation and made predicting the invasion timetable much harder.
If at all possible, the intensity of the training increased as the Erhand massed for the invasion. Every student knew they would be called upon soon to fulfill their oaths. Brandt immersed himself learning new skills and perfecting old ones. With a clear path before him the rage and blackness he sometimes felt diminished. Memories of Yfiria helped check those thoughts. And, there were always five tasks that needed doing and only time to complete three of them. He spent countless hours in the yard training, with SwordBreaker. Now, he exclusively trained and sparred with the war sword of his father and a skeggaxe or hammer. He had to relearn much of what he’d mastered before since SwordBreaker was so different from a normal sword. He was quite accomplished with all three now. He could easily match three or four of his band mates by himself.
Typically he sparred with a master if he wanted a real challenge. He also sought out krigers from the garrison as much as possible to broaden his experience and his ability reading an opponent’s intentions and trying his skills against theirs. His efforts to gain experience from seeking different opponents’ techniques and moves would prove wise. Two moons ago he easily passed the initial Runa tests for the sword and axe. Master Ivar said he could request his sword master trials anytime he wanted or, he could wait for the Gathering. He still needed to work some more on the axe afore he tried the axe master trials though. He decided to wait for the Gathering.
He was sixteen winters now. Or so everyone thought. No one was ever certain of his real age. But, he didn’t really feel any older. Definitely, over the last few years, he grew a lot. In his band he was the largest boy now by a considerable margin. Only Bera was even close to his size. Brandt got along pretty well with Bera now. They were not best friends by any means but progress was made. Fridya had helped immensely but she kept her reasons to herself, for the most part. All things considered they made for an unlikely pair of friends. Their relatively new rapport surprised many. It still surprised Brandt as well.
If someone asked him a year ago if Bera and he would ever be friends he would’ve laughed them out of sight. Bend a bough, their seemingly new friendship, had lasted almost a year so far. The key to winning Bera over had been Fridya, Brandt’s leadership example and his skill. Once he proved to Bera he wasn’t going anywhere and he could whip Bera anytime he wanted, Bera realized Brandt belonged here. Brandt proved he would make a good kriger and was the best fighter in Red Band. Bera admitted to Brandt that he though Brandt would make a good king one day as well.
Red Band was now a very tight knit combat unit. They were all highly trained, tough, smart, capable and motivated. And, they were a senior band now and nearing the end of their training. Over and over their war games had proven how good they were. During competitions, Red Band or Bloody Band as the other bands now called them, usually placed in the top three. The other bands started calling them Bloody Band during the course of one of the pugilist competitions.
This particular competition was a band on band hand to hand fighting match. And, despite Red Band’s smaller size and large female to male ratio, they would not quit, even after a fifth year band, the Brown Band, had mostly beaten every member of Red Band bloody and ragged. That day they’d stood shoulder to shoulder in the clearing in the woods outside Tanic, muddy and covered in their own blood, beat down, exhausted but still defiant and unbeaten in spirit at least. A light rain drizzled and dripped on them and the mist swirled around the two bands as they fought but Red Band was like a rock, resolute.
The Masters watching the bouts were impressed with Red Bands’ determination even though everyone in Brown and Red Band knew they would not win the fight. It was during that fight that they earned their nickname. Now it was widely used by the other bands. Brandt smiled as he remembered the day. It was one he would never forget.
Over the last year, since he’d grown so much, his previous set of issued armor no longer fit. So, with the armorer’s permission, he’d spent several days in the Hall armory piecing together a set of leather and plate. What he couldn’t find in the assorted used castoffs in the armory he forged himself. Above the waist, he ended up with a light steel cuirass with a leather back plate, a steel gorget he forged himself, some used but serviceable segmented leather pauldrons and vambaces splinted with steel strips. Below the waist he kept it simple and light. He selected a decent
set of light steel cuisses for the upper leg and splinted leather greaves below the knee. Brandt designed his armor to be functional and strong at the most critical points but also light for speed and maneuverability.
He was quite happy with the armor and his smith work. His skill progressed as well. The competed work was strong and utilitarian but had a decent finish as well. Just two moons ago he’d finished the hilt and handle wrapping on the short sword he had forged. Master Birger declared it a worthy first blade. The other Masters agreed and he’d passed the Forge Master test. Brandt carried it most days as well and trained with it from time to time. He liked having the extra blade handy just in case. For his next Master Smith trial he was forging himself a new skeggaxe and a war hammer.
He’d designed both weapons himself. He wanted something light to fight with in his offhand but he also wanted the beard of the axe to have just a bit more curve in it to catch an opponent’s blade easier. This skeggaxe would also have a small sharp spike off the back of the poll. The hammer would be light as well, so it could be used one handed and it would also have a central spike off the top and a curved spike on the rear. He knew a hammer would be best for defeating heavy plate armor.
To pass his final smithy trial he needed to do all the work himself and with no advice or guidance. This also included hardening and tempering the steel of the axe and hammer heads. The axe and hammer needed to be totally functional and battle quality but also not look horrendous or shoddy. It was a difficult trial in its own right. Tempering steel was a tricky and laborious process. He felt confident he would do well over the next few weeks and pass the final test.
With everything going on he stayed busy. He still thought of Yfiria often and wished they could meet again but he knew that was not realistic. He had to hope for some time together in the future and try his best to work towards that. It was a struggle. He missed her and their friendship. While he was still good friends with Yfiria they had grown apart some over the last two seasons. He knew that was more his fault than hers. She wanted something more than he could give.
As his memory continued to improve he remembered more about his training in Talfur and the lesson’s Ridynar had taught him. He could now better control the darkness and anger that sometimes threatened him in stressful situations. He was also able to apply some of Ridynar’s lessons to advance his ability with his archania. He had better control and focus now and his stamina was much improved but there was no other major breakthrough in ability or power.
Chapter 23
The Gathering
I have been called a warrior, bard, historian, husband, chieftain, Flikkeller and blacksmith. However the thing that scared me the most, at first, then gave me the most enjoyment and satisfaction was being a father and raising my children. There is nothing as important and enjoyable as being a father.
Erik the Colder
***
Gullvayg stood in her throne room. She trembled in fear and rage. It was quite delicious. The Kûnnabani towered over her, up on the dais of the throne room, immobile and uncaring. She had just begun the process of redecorating the throne room to her own style and tastes. But, that would have to wait for now. There were more pressing matters she had to deal with first.
She knew she was in danger but she hoped she could save herself. The Kûnnabani was not pleased. She could feel its displeasure radiating of it, like a palpable wave. It had come at their Master’s command to salvage the deteriorating situation in the capital. It took Gullvayg great effort, every ounce of her concentration, will and power to remain standing in front of it. Lutvar and several other high ranking magi were not faring as well. They lay prostrated, quivering like an under-baked bread pudding, on the floor before the massive evil hulk in front of them.
“Gullvayg,” the Kûnnabani rasped “You have disobeyed our master. It is not your place to promote your ambitions over his purpose. You know this witch. You presume too much.”
Its voice was a like dry snake skin sliding over rough gravel and sand. The evil monstrosity was at least nine feet talk and partially shrouded in a seething and churning darkness that concealed most of its form and shape. All that could be gleaned from the inky dark cloud was that it was large and powerful.
“Great one, I know, I was misled and given poor advice by these weak misguided fools.” she gestured at Lutvar and the other magi. “I am doing my best but their resistance and infighting required me to take over and rule them myself. There was no other way. Surely our Master can concede this and applaud my initiative?”
“Your best was not good enough Gullvayg. The Master has ordered your return for additional instruction!”
In an instant, before she could defend herself, the Kûnnabani summoned a great lance of red archania. It shot towards her and the magic struck Gullvayg in the forehead. Gullvayg’s spirit was ripped from Aelia’s body and hurtled through space and time where it once again, entered the Void. As her consciousness adjusted she realized another Kûnnabani presence was close. It was waiting for her. She gasped as intense pain ripped through her spirit. Wracked with shuddering cold and then white hot heat, the torture alternating every few moments, she was brought before the greatest of the Dokköndi, Hraezlan.
“Welcome my child. You displease me. Your lesson, an eternal lesson in pain, begins now.” echoed the cold dead voice in the Void. She shrieked in horror, fear and pain. The previous pain inflicted by the Kûnnabani was nothing compared to this new pain. A pain that Hraezlan promised she would experience for an eternity.
***
“Who is chief among you?” grated the deceptively calm voice of the Kûnnabani.
Lutvar was able to just raise his arm in reply.
“I know you mortal. Were you not warned?” Before he could even reply the Kûnnabani said one word of archania, an ancient word few knew or understood, especially among the current human practitioners of the arts. Lutvar knew of it and was suddenly terrified. Slowly, Lutvar felt the tug of forces on his body. His legs and arms slowly pulled out until he was splayed on the floor like a starfish. The forces increased and pain shot up his arms and legs.
He gasped and blood sweat poured from his body. He managed a few hoarse words begging the Dark One to have mercy. There was no mercy and over the next few seconds the forces pulling him apart built and pulled until he screamed in pain and misery. He could feel his limbs pulling from their sockets and the ligaments and muscles tearing free.
A moment later, after one final horrendous scream of agony, Lutvar, the High Mage of Imperia ceased to exist. All that remained was his dismembered body and limbs in a gory pile. Blood, flesh and waste was scattered about the elaborate throne room in fantastical patterns. The silence was absolute.
The Kûnnabani pointed at the most powerful mage in the room, now that High Magi Lutvar was now dead, and hissed, “You are in charge now. You serve me directly. Any problems and I will do worse to you than this.” and it gestured at the pile of bloody body parts.
“Leave that mess as a reminder to all that come before me. It is the price of failure. Now remove the girl.” A huge black arm and skeletal hand emerged from the dark mist and pointed at the unconscious form of Aelia, “We have my Master’s work to attend. Send in the generals and chiefs of your lands. I will have words for them.”
The Kûnnabani ordered the Imperium’s magi to all the major population centers throughout the empire. He directed them to use archania, he would soon provide, to raise the dead for his new undead army.
The commander’s would order all remote garrisons to comply and assist with this effort. They would also gather all stores of arms from the outlying garrisons and arm the undead with armor and one weapon. Once all was ready, the magi, under the cover of darkness and using untraveled paths, would bring each group to Kroya, the City of the Dead.
In Kroya, the Kûnnabani told the assembled leaders, he would assemble a dreaded secret force, a great army of the dead. Arngrim dismissed the humans and sat in the throne. He would m
esh and warp the dead of this land to his will. It would be an army totally under his power. It would obey his every command without delay and complete every task unless totally destroyed. It would not shirk duties, retreat in terror if routed or disobey his orders. It would not need to be fed or clothed. It would be critical in the battle to take Fortress Cinder. This army would be a powerful and unexpected force the Vesfalrukians would be unprepared for.
***
As the summer began Fortress Reave became very busy. The chancellor’s reserve army call-up was going into effect and soldiers were converging on the fortress. The Gathering was also beginning and krigers were returning to Reave Hall as well. On top of the increased security due to the Narasists and patrols out of Reave to Cinder, the fortress and Tanic were a hive of activity. But, the Hall and fortress’s normal schedule and routines were all still in effect.
So far a large number of returned krigers were now residing in the Mid-Forts. There were krigers arriving every day in assorted numbers, answering the call of the Hall’s Grand Master for a Gathering. Brandt heard over three hundred krigers had returned so far. And, the latest rumor had it that the first big wave of the Chancellor’s troop realignment and general call up would arrive in less than a sennight. The Gathering was set to conclude at the end of summer and with it the long-awaited Master trials for the year. Brandt, who still had a year and a half of training to go at the Guild, had petitioned to participate in the trials and the Masters had granted him permission.
The fortress would soon be full of regular royal troops, called up reserve levies and the returning krigers. There was even a unit of Osterider mercenaries stationed here. They would actually have to open the halls and rooms under the fortress to house all of them. So, it was not surprising that Master Ivar and the Commander of the garrison decreed the next seven days would be dedicated to opening and cleaning the lower halls. There would be a temporary halt to all training and classes at Reave Hall.