Malbeck tossed the girl aside as if she were an old shirt, moving with long strides to his throne. The demonoid was incredibly strong. Gullanin was fully aware of how easily he had held the girl in the air with one arm, and how effortlessly he had tossed her useless body across the room with just a flick of his muscular arm.
Gullanin glanced at the girl. She must have been no older than eighteen winters. Her body was beautiful, marred only by the splattered blood and lifeless eyes that stared back at him
Malbeck, the Dark One, was impressive. His body was tall, straight, and covered with tight muscle. His pale, almost bluish skin contrasted sharply with his tight black dragon skin breeches. His torso was always bare, except for the crisscrossed leather harness cinched tight across his bulging chest. He also wore a long black cape that matched the darkness of his hair. But it was his eyes that always gave Gullanin a chill. They were pure white, and it looked as if he were looking at nothing and everything at the same time.
“Do you like my orb?” Malbeck asked as he sat down in his dragon bone throne. The demonoid’s deep voice resonated with power, and as he spoke, the tips of his sharp teeth could be seen beyond his bluish-black lips.
“It is beautiful, my Lord. I have never seen anything like it.” Gullanin spoke softly, his eyes glancing to the orb and back to the ground in front of him. He always kept his head bowed when speaking to his lord, to show respect and submission. Besides, it was too difficult to make eye contact with Malbeck. His eyes seemed to suck the life force from him.
“Do you know what it is, my faithful servant?”
“I’m sorry, my Lord, I do not.”
“It is the egg of a Blood Dragon,” Malbeck said proudly.
Gullanin was momentarily shocked. Blood Dragons were beasts that inhabited the lower planes and they were very rare. You could live a thousand lifetimes and never have seen one. They were uncommon even on their own plane of existence, and as far as Gullanin knew, they had never existed on the material plane. Black as a bottomless pit, their powerful bodies were covered in veins of fiery orange and red, similar to what Gullanin saw on the surface of the egg. They were creatures of magic whose hearts beat with the energy gained from the devoured blood of their victims. They were also called Demon Dragons, a fitting name thought Gullanin as he glanced again at the floating egg. “I have heard of them, my Lord, but have never seen one. They are said to be very powerful.”
“Indeed, they are. Power that will be mine in good time,” he whispered softly, catching Gullanin looking again at the lifeless body of the girl. “You wonder why I killed the girl?”
“Is it to feed the egg?” Gullanin asked, reasoning that much on his own.
“It is. I need the blood of a hundred strong souls to speed up the hatching of the egg. Young virgins offer the most sustenance for the egg, but strong warriors will do as well. It is unfortunate that these humans succumb to their earthly desires so quickly. I am having difficulty finding so many untouched women,” Malbeck hissed angrily.
“I’m sure there will be more at Cuthaine. If not, surely the Free Legion warriors will suffice. And we will kill many of them,” Gullanin said, shuffling uncomfortably in front of the demonoid.
“I’m sure you are right,” whispered Malbeck, sitting up straighter in his throne. “Now, tell me of your failure, I can smell it on you and it sullies my presence with its weakness.”
“I’m sorry, my Lord, but the king escaped. Two cavaliers arrived just as the hounds were about to finish them all. But one of the cavaliers was killed,” he added, hoping the news would mollify Malbeck somewhat.
“Which one?” Malbeck asked impatiently.
“The female, cavalier to Bandris,” Gullanin whispered softly, knowing that was not what Malbeck wanted to hear.
“Continue,” Malbeck ordered, his voice strained with fury.
“All the Gould-Irin Orcs were slain, along with the hounds. But their party is now reduced to Jonas, the young cavalier, the Blade Singer, an unknown dwarf, and a handful of Tarsinian warriors. It is only a matter of time, my Lord. I will find them again and kill them. This time I will not fail you.”
“Where have they gone?” Malbeck asked after a long pause.
“Into the Hallows.”
“Why would Shyann send the two cavaliers to protect the king?” Malbeck whispered to himself. “Find them!” Malbeck said to Gullanin. “There is something I am missing. I want them dead. Take more Gould-Irin. Do whatever is necessary to kill them. Now leave me before I decide not to give you a second chance!” Malbeck waved his hand impatiently in dismissal.
Gullanin pivoted on his cane, striding from the Dark One’s tent without another word, eager to leave his angry presence.
***
The small, tired, battle scarred party stood on a hill facing the distant city of Cuthaine. All that remained of the group were the king, Allindrian, Jonas, Kilius, Fil, Myrell, Durgen, and Dandronis. They had materialized from the gate in the middle of a stand of trees less than half a day’s travel from where they stood. They were dirty and covered in sweat, blood, and soot, but the sight of the city gave them new hope. Especially King Kromm, for somewhere below, in the city, he believed he would find his family.
“What if they are not there?” Allindrian asked.
The king turned his gaze from the city to Allindrian. “They are there, I can feel it.”
Jonas was the only one of the group who looked refreshed. His armor and clothing were immaculate, the stark contrast with the others making them look like beggars. Jonas looked down at the city, wondering if the king was right. He had a task, and that task was to get the king to Finarth as quickly as he could. If Kromm didn’t find his wife and son there, would the king leave with him? He guessed not, and he couldn’t blame him. Nor could he tell the king why it was so important to get him to Finarth, for he did not know.
“Sire, what can you tell me about Cuthaine?” Jonas asked.
“Cuthaine is a free city that was founded by a warrior named LeeOntis many years ago. These lands are wild, filled with raiding nomads, tribal wars, and brigands looking for easy prey. LeeOntis carved a place for himself with his sword. Cuthaine separates my kingdom with the kingdom of Finarth. To the west are the Tundren Mountains, home of many violent barbarian tribes. Luckily for us, the Hallows took us past their lands. To the east are the Nomad Lands, rightly named as several nomadic tribes live there. Cuthaine is surrounded by potential enemies but LeeOntis was able to build the city and his kingdom through war and diplomacy. He attracted lots of followers over many years. I do not know much about his family and history but after hundreds of years the city has grown to what you see now. But now it is governed by a ruling council elected by the people. They are protected by the Free Legion, skilled warriors who have honed their skills from centuries of fighting and protecting the small kingdom from the wilds of the lands. Their army is small, but it is said that their infantry is the best.”
“Do you know any of the council members?” Durgen asked.
“I have met with the council, although only a few times,” the king replied.
“That may be useful,” Allindrian added.
“Let us banter no more. I long to find my wife and son,” the kind said, ending the conversation.
And with that they followed the monarch down the hill towards the city.
The group made their way to the gate. To their surprise it was closed. They could see men milling about on the battlements above them and five soldiers stood at guard before the large wood and steel gate.
The soldiers came to attention immediately when they saw the companions approach. They appeared tense and each had a hand on their weapons. Jonas noticed that the warriors on the walls now held crossbows aimed down at them. The soldiers of the Free Legion were heavily armored in plate mail, metal thigh guards, greaves, and helms. Each carried an infantry sword and a long thick spear. Every one of them wore a red sash cinched tight around their waists, the mark of the Free Le
gion.
Jonas wondered why they were all so tense. He had heard that Cuthaine was a free city where all were welcome, but that certainly did not seem to be the case here now. He judged it would not be long before they found out why.
“Halt!” one of the guards commanded, striding purposefully toward them. He was followed closely by four other warriors who stopped just before the haggard party, fanning out to face them, their faces tense and alert. The leader was tall and thin, with a long mustache below his hooked and pointed nose. His eyes were bright and intense. Jonas observed him as he quickly looked each of them over, finally settling his gaze on Jonas. “Cavalier,” the man stammered briefly before regaining his composure, “I am sorry, I did not see you at first. My apologies,” he said with a deep bow.
The rest of the men relaxed a bit, holding their spears more casually. The guard did not recognize the others. The king’s armor was so dirty and black from their fight in the Hallows that the Cuthanian soldiers probably did not see the Tarsinain symbol embossed on his chest plate. Allindrian stood in the back with her hooded cloak pulled tightly around her so they did not see her for who she really was. Jonas stood out like a beacon, as he always did.
“No need to apologize; you are just doing your job. What is your name, sir?” Jonas asked.
“Captain Hadrick.”
“Sir, standing before you is King Kromm of Tarsis and his companions. We desire entrance into your fine city,” Jonas said.
The warrior directed his gaze to Kromm and after a few moments his eyes lit up with recognition. Turning, he addressed his men hastily. “Open the gate, quickly.” Then he turned back to King Kromm, bowing deeply again. “I am sorry, King Kromm. I did not recognize you. We have all heard about Tarsis and I am glad to see you alive.”
“Captain, thank you for your words but I need to meet with the council. Time is of the essence,” Kromm said.
“Very well, Your Highness, please follow me,” the captain said, turning and walking toward the gate that was now being opened.
“Captain Hadrick,” the king continued, “Why is the gate locked, and why are travelers being met by soldiers with hands on their swords?”
“I’m sorry, Sire. But things have gotten bad here at Cuthaine. We have to be cautious with who now enters,” he replied.
“Things?” questioned Allindrian.
The captain looked at her for a moment before responding. He still could not see her face well, nor any indication that she was a Blade Singer. “Yes, dark things. Followers of the Forsworn,” he said, making the four pointed star gesture over his chest. “Blackhearts have been crawling out from their dark holes. People have disappeared. Murder, rape, theft, and all kinds of crime have been increasing. Two of the council members have been murdered in their homes. Young girls have gone missing all over the kingdom. The city is not safe anymore and we are doing what we can to rectify it, but we have not met with much success.”
“I see,” Allindrian replied, glancing at Jonas.
Jonas, hearing the captain’s words, was just as concerned as Allindrian. They had to find the king’s family and then he had to get them safely out of the city and to Finarth. They had to do all of this in a city that was now crawling with Blackhearts, as the people here called the followers of the dark gods. Jonas could not afford wasting time here. It was the unknown that was giving him pause. What would they find in Cuthaine?
They followed the captain through the gate and were met by ten more armed Free Legion warriors. A burly bushy haired warrior approached the captain and the king.
“Thank you, Captain Hadrick, I will take them from here,” announced the big man in a deep strong voice. His green eyes went to King Kromm, and he bowed slightly. “King Kromm, it is good to see you alive. I am General Kurraris. We actually met five years ago.”
“I remember, it is good to see you again,” the king said, shaking the general’s hand in the warrior’s grip.
The general turned towards Jonas and offered his hand in greeting. “Cavalier, you are most welcome here. Are you here to help us rid the city of our vermin?”
“I’m sorry, General, my mission is directly related to the king, but while we are here I will certainly help where I may.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, King Kromm,” the general said, redirecting his gaze towards Kromm. “But we must not stay here. It is not safe. I will escort you to the inner palace where you can get cleaned up and refresh yourself. I have sent runners to alert the council. You may meet them within the hour.” The general turned and signaled for his men to move out.
Jonas noticed that the Free Legion soldiers had fanned out expertly, continuously looking out towards the quiet shops, homes, and roof tops as if they were expecting attacks.
The city was more or less a ghost town. There were a few people about, and some of the shops were open, but not many, a stark contrast to the normal bustle of the city.
“Is the city always this quiet?” Fil asked, walking behind the general.
“No,” the warrior replied without looking back, his eyes ever vigilant. “The mornings see more activity than what you see now, but all in all the town’s normal activities have all but disappeared. Bad things have been happening, and the people are frightened. So they mostly lock themselves in their homes, especially at this time of the day, when the sun is getting ready to set.”
Sure enough, as they moved deeper into the city the sun’s rays were slowly disappearing over the tall towers of the inner palace. The west side of the buildings was still lit by the setting sun, but dark shadows were growing and reaching out at them from the expanding darkness.
And just as darkness began to fall, Jonas felt a slight tingle, both on his chest and his forehead, a subtle warning that evil was near. It was nothing alarming, just a warm buzz nudging him, letting him know not to relax his guard. He felt the presence of the Forsworn around him and his hands absently went to the hilts of his blades. But they were not yet needed as the general brought them through another guarded gate and into the inner palace.
The large building before them was beautiful, built of huge square stones and covered with green vines and foliage that had taken over the entire front façade. Ornate bushes and trees, pruned into topiaries, covered the grounds. The sculpted trees and shrubs gave a rich and formal appearance to the palace grounds, and the entire building was surrounded by a white stone wall that was at least five paces high. There was a large fountain positioned before a series of flat steps that led to a set of heavy oak doors. The fountain was magnificent. Five massive stones, each easily the size of several men, and each one a different height, jutted from the ground. Round river rocks of various sizes surrounded the base of the stones and water boiled from various holes along the tops, cascading down and disappearing into the river rock. Jonas wondered how the water was continuously pumped through the structure, but the thought was fleeting as he again concentrated on his surroundings, knowing that they were in a dangerous place.
General Kurraris and his guards escorted the group past the fountain, up the stairs and through the doors. They did not stop once, moving with direct purpose, but once inside the palace doors they seemed to relax a little.
The room they entered was large and crowned with tall vaulted ceilings. Iron braziers burned brightly in the corners of the room, ready to fend off the darkness brought about by the setting sun. A pair of ornately carved stone stairs rose from opposite ends of the room to a hallway above. There were two doors on the main level, plus a set of large double doors in front of them, flanked by two large pillars rising to the tall ceiling.
“King Kromm,” the general said, turning to face the Tarsinian king, “I will have one of my men show you and your companions to the bath house. I will have food and drink sent there while I inform the council of your presence. Is there anything else you desire?”
“Yes, General,” the king said, glancing at the Free Legion warriors around them, “now that we are away from prying eyes, I w
ill tell you that I am here looking for my wife, Queen Sorana, and my son, Prince Riker. They may have arrived with my court wizard, Addalis, who I believe has a cousin here. Have you seen them?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I have not. What is the name of the wizard’s cousin?” General Kurraris asked with concern, hoping to be of some service.
“Geardon Embley, I believe he runs a gaming house here,” the king replied.
General Kurraris’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Indeed he does. His place is called The Oasis, and it is the most popular gaming house in the city. It is one of the few places that is still operating and doing well.”
“I need to go there,” Kromm said with urgency.
“Do you wish to forgo the meeting with the council?” the general asked.
“Yes. The bath can wait as well.”
“Very well, but may I suggest a quick refreshment and some hot water to wipe your faces clean. It will only take a few moments. If they are with Mr. Embley then they are very safe, and a few more moments will not hurt.”
“Very well,” Kromm replied reluctantly.
The general was true to his word, hot water and towels, dried meats and cheese, and a cold sweet white wine was brought to them within a few moments. The servants hurried in, setting the trays and bowls down on a side table, and then quickly departed.
They washed the grime from their faces and hands with the hot water and towels that had been provided. It didn’t take long before the towels and the water were black with the residues of dirt and blood that had covered them. They quickly consumed the food, drank the wine, and departed through the palace doors, feeling a bit refreshed and slightly more presentable.
The general decided to escort them personally, along with the ten Free Legion warriors. It was now completely dark and the city streets swarmed with shadows. The only light available was from the torches carried by the guards flanking them and the occasional candle light flickering from inside the windows of nearby homes.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck Page 27