“Yes. Thom.” Nadav watched as no one moved from his or her chairs except Geoff, who dutifully left with haste. He couldn’t believe the others still delayed, and he screamed at them, “Go!”
It gratified Nadav that Geoff returned in a few short minutes, the tall Westerner named Thom trailing behind him with guards on either side. Between Nadav’s magic and Geoff, the guards were somewhat superfluous, as were the shackles that bound Thom’s wrists and ankles. Thom did not bow nor kneel to the Loszian emperor, and his face betrayed disgust, revulsion and hatred. Geoff stood to one side as Nadav again stood from his chair and approached through the dusty remains of the table.
“He no longer needs those,” Nadav said, motioning toward the chains, and the two guards moved to unlock them. “I assume, Westerner, that you’re smart enough not to try anything. Lord Dahken Geoff’s ghast will have you hewed in twain before you know what is happening.”
“What do you want?” Thom asked succinctly, showing no respect of any kind.
“I am really quite surprised to hear that Queen Erella is dead, and I am even more surprised to hear that her death came at the hands of Cor Pelson,” Nadav explained. “Is this true?”
“He did not deny it to me.”
“So, perhaps he is not the good man you mistook him for. Geoff, what do you think?” Nadav asked, turning his attention to the boy.
“Sovereign, I didn’t think Cor had it in him,” Geoff answered. “All I ever saw is how he groveled before the old bitch.”
“I suppose there is more to him than even you thought. I wonder if in fact he would make a powerful ally instead of an enemy,” Nadav mused, seeming to look past Thom as if staring into a horizon that only he could see. He didn’t notice Geoff’s jaw clench as he shifted his stance.
But Thom did. “You boy. I can’t believe you would betray Lord Dahken Cor by joining with this! He’s the purest of evil, and he’ll only betray you.”
“Shut up,” Geoff spat, and he paid the former commander with a swift booted kick to the groin. Thom crumpled, all the air knocked out of him, as he endured the throbbing pain. Eventually it subsided, and he was able to regain his breath.
As Thom regained his feet, Nadav quietly asked, “Where are the Dahken?” Thom did not answer. “The Dahken must have fled just before our attack or even as we assaulted. They most certainly have not gone to Byrverus. The new king, Aidan I believe, made his intent clear, so it would be suicide for Cor to ride that direction. I’ll ask again. Where are the Dahken?”
Thom still did not answer, clamping his mouth shut and staring at the tall Loszian defiantly. Geoff came up behind the Westerner and kicked at the backs of his knees, and as Thom went down again, Geoff pulled a dagger from his belt. He yanked back the older man’s head and bore the blade’s edge down upon his exposed neck, but still Thom showed no hint of fear.
Nadav waived Geoff off.
“It doesn’t matter,” the emperor said as Geoff returned to his position to one side. “Geoff, I need you to attend Thom’s men. They have a choice – they may join our ranks willingly or die and join them anyway. Those who join me, divide them up and do not let them speak to one another. Have their new commanders watch them closely. Any who choose death, try to damage them as little as possible.”
“Yes, Sovereign,” Geoff bowed briefly and turned to exit the hall.
“You said you wouldn’t harm us if we surrendered!” Thom shouted, seething.
Nadav coolly returned the angrily burning gaze. “Events have forced me to alter our arrangement. King Aidan rides this way, and I must move to crush him.
“Thom, you will not tell me where the Dahken are, and you do not have to. Instead, you are going to take your Lord Dahken Cor a message. You know where he is, and I will allow you to go to him unmolested, unfollowed. He is to come to Byrverus immediately so that he may see the fall of the greatest city in the Shining West. He will know then the futility of opposing me.”
“He’ll know it’s a trap,” Thom growled. “He won’t come.”
“How boring – a trap? A trap implies some sort of ruse. This is no such thing. I simply want him to see the fall of Byrverus. After, I will even let him leave should he so desire.”
“I don’t believe you,” Thom said, and he spat at Nadav. “Why should I? You’ve already lied about sparing my men. Go fuck yourself with a long, sharp pike, but before you do, kill me with my comrades.”
“Ha!” Nadav laughed, and it wasn’t the reaction for which Thom had hoped. “How picturesque. No, Westerner. Death will not be yours, for you are the other part of my message.”
Nadav raised his hands over his head, easily stretching over ten feet into the air, and a purple-black mass formed about them. Fed by the Loszian, it crossed the mere few feet to the veteran soldier. Thom didn’t know what to expect, but he hoped it was the one thing the Loszian had said wouldn’t be his – death. He begged for it as pain unlike anything he had ever felt raged in his flesh. His joints made horrible popping sounds, and his bones creaked. One of the few times in his life, Thom prayed to Garod for an end to it all, but his prayers went unanswered.
11.
“Am I truly to believe this?” King Aidan asked of the lanky man that knelt to his right, sarcastic disbelief heavy in his voice and plain upon his round face.
He dined in the evening sunlight on roasted pheasant, boar and a variety of vegetables in some sort of brown sauce when the messenger had been brought before him. It was hot outside to be sure, but a comfortable breeze blew across the Aquis countryside, making the heat almost pleasant. As Aidan smacked his lips and washed the meat down with wine, he again congratulated himself on the wisdom of bringing the palace cooks along.
About ten days into the march, it turned more grueling than King Aidan had expected. The summer sun blazed down upon them daily, making the air unbearably hot, and the soldiers had chosen to remove their armor. The fat king shuddered at the thought of being cooked alive inside a steel oven. Once away from the city and villages, Aidan dismounted his great horse and instead chose to be chauffeured in a covered carriage in the middle of the host. They had stopped to supply at two small hamlets along the way so that the commoners would have the privilege of serving their king. They were more than happy to open their homes and beds to Aquis’ fighting men.
Fortunately, Aidan and his men would have to endure little more hardship; they were just over half way to Fort Haldon. Aidan would deliver his justice upon the Dahken immediately, but they would likely linger there for several weeks at least. That would give his men time to recuperate from the enduring discomfort of a summer march.
The man delivered a message from his knees, as Aidan hadn’t felt the need to allow him to stand. He was fairly tall, lanky, with long unruly black hair, scraggly beard and whiskers to match. These and sun darkened skin made him one of Fort Haldon’s many rangers. The two captains standing behind the ranger had disarmed him, as no one from Fort Haldon was to be trusted, and one held a longbow, the other a sword.
“Majesty,” he said uncertainly, clearly unsure as to how to answer the question, “I don’t understand. A great host invades as we speak. They may have already overrun Fort Haldon.”
“Who commands Fort Haldon? Thom or Cor Pelson?”
“Uh,” the ranger stuttered and blinked once. “Lord Dahken Cor and Commander Thom command the defense, sire.”
“If that is true, then Thom is a traitor,” Aidan explained. “Your Lord Dahken Cor murdered Queen Erella. I suppose you didn’t know that. I ordered Thom to arrest the Dahken and the sorceress and hold them for my arrival, for justice. If Cor still holds Fort Haldon, then Thom and all of those under his command shall share the Dahken’s fate.”
“But Majesty, the Loszians.”
Aidan’s eyes darkened and his face reddened at the interruption, and his lips curled back in anger. “Garod has shown me nothing, given me no reason to believe they exist. It is a lie by Cor Pelson, to what end I do not know. Have you seen
this host with your own eyes? Of course not.
“At this point, I will assume that you are simply a good soldier following orders. I will have you join my archers, but know that any hint of treachery, I will have you imprisoned or worse.”
“I serve Your Majesty,” the ranger said quietly, staring at Aidan’s feet.
“Good.” To the captains Aidan said, “See to it that he is fed and that he joins the archers. I wish to eat the rest of my supper in peace.”
As they marched the ranger to the cooking fires, Aidan pointedly ignored the concern on his captains’ faces.
The first refugees reached Aidan’s host on the next day when the sun was directly overhead. Over a dozen peasants, women and children mostly with one bent old man were spotted some distance off by the outriders. Intercepted and brought back to the main body, they were disheveled, dirty and tired from traveling the foothills near the Spine. This first group actually consisted of folks from three different farmsteads that had come together in their trek. They told a story – riders from Fort Haldon warned them of an impending invasion from Losz and pressed their young men into service. Aidan offered them the safety of the host or freedom to continue their journey, and most chose the latter. As the host marched onward, they came across dozens more, all commoners and peasants claiming to flee a Loszian army. They all told the identical tale to the first group, and Aidan listened to the reports most uninterestedly, even as the worried whispers built among his men. In the end, Aidan posed the same question every time – had anyone actually seen this enemy horde, and the answer was always no.
As usual, they stopped their march when the sun dropped low in the sky, and the normal air of relaxed gaiety was notably absent. King Aidan looked over the men and saw how subdued were their words and actions. Even the minstrels, bards and players he’d pressed into the host to keep all entertained seemed quieter and less energetic in their diversions than just a day before. The men certainly seemed to find no joy in them, and the field was noticeably short of laughter. All feared that the stories were true.
Aidan resolved himself to two courses of action. First, immediately upon the sun’s rise he would send advance riders to Fort Haldon to scout out the situation there and report back. Second, before the main host resumed its march, he would address them all and lay their fears to rest. In a show of strength, King Aidan would retake his place at the head of the army; his sore ass be damned. He arose early, breakfasted and had his horse saddled and ready. His men watched in surprise as he refused the carriage and waded through them to his horse. Two attendants waited with the animal on a small hilltop, and Aidan waived them off as he willed himself up into the saddle.
“My people, my loyal subjects,” he called as he turned the horse to face the army. His voice carried well in the hot air across the rolling hills. “I see the worry on your faces, worry that we march to face an army. You have heard the stories of a Loszian horde invading Aquis through the Spine, so I understand your fear.
“But fear not, for I am not afraid. We are the chosen of Garod, and through His power, we always will prevail. I promise you, no Loszian host awaits us at Fort Haldon, for Garod has warned me of no such thing. It is a ruse, a well concocted lie, by the one who murdered our good Queen Erella – the Dahken Cor Pelson.
“Garod is the greatest of the gods, the king of the gods and the only true god. His power infuses us so that even if the cowardly Loszians were to emerge from their towers to threaten our nation, we would doubtless send them with one blow back across the Spine. Garod compels us, and we march to Fort Haldon for His glory!”
With that, Aidan turned his horse about and continued the trek, and he did not turn to see if the host followed him.
Two days later, Aidan’s host marched well into the rolling foothills near the Spine. He brought the host to a dead halt at the top of a rise as he saw one of his outriders galloping as fast as his horse could carry him back to his compatriots. In the distance, Aidan could make out a dark horde crawling over the hilltops after the rider, and they were so numerous as to appear as a great army of black ants flowing like a river in his direction.
Shocked so totally as to appear petrified, tears slowly rolled down Aidan’s cheeks, making tracks in the dust. It suddenly occurred to him that never once had Garod gifted His holiness or power to Aidan. Aidan had been chosen by money, politics and favors, but he was not the chosen of Garod.
* * *
With a grunt, the soldiers flung a great round form to the ground in Nadav’s tent, and the Loszian sneered in revulsion at the disgusting shape of the fat Westerner. Everything about him was round and bloated, and his once white priest robes only exaggerated the fact. His robes were tattered and torn, covered in mud, blood, piss and shit, and he stunk of a sewer. He sobbed, and he scrambled back fearfully from silk robed forms of Nadav and Geoff.
“So this is Aquis’ great King Aidan,” Nadav stated, sounding somewhat sullen or disappointed. “I will say King Aidan that your army of mostly commoners charged rather valiantly. It was a real pleasure to watch you lead your own people to slaughter. Actually, you really didn’t lead them, did you? More sent them to it while you cowered behind them.
“Geoff, how many did you kill yourself?” the emperor asked, never taking his eyes off his captive.
“I’m not sure Sovereign,” Geoff asked as he looked to the top of the tent for an answer. “Perhaps a hundred, but most of them seemed to be servants – cooks and the like.”
Aidan covered his splotched round face with his hands and began to sob anew.
“Well, clearly King Aidan marches on his stomach,” Nadav jabbed, and he laughed as he did so.
Thinking to regain some of his dignity, Aidan had lifted himself to his hands and knees. He steeled himself to climb to his feet when Geoff stepped forward and kicked him hard in the shoulder. Weak and unsteady, Aidan simply fell over onto his side and began to cry again.
“No, King Aidan,” Nadav chided, and he moved to stand over Aidan’s shuddering, prone form. “Your hands and knees are the right place for you. I am Sovereign Nadav, emperor of all Losz and soon the Shining West as well, and I am going to do delightfully horrible things to you. Surely, you know this.”
Aidan took a moment to compose himself, but his response sounded hollow to even his ears. “The Shining West will not fall to you. The Paladins of Garod await you in Byrverus, and you’ll never defeat His power that flows through them.”
“Byrverus has no inkling of what doom awaits it,” Nadav replied, and there was something predatory in his wide smile, unsettling even to Geoff. He motioned at the soldiers that brought Aidan to him, “Please remove the good king’s filthy clothing, as it is an affront to a man of his stature. Leave him his crown.”
The armored men stepped forward and roughly tore the robes from Aidan’s body, tossing the tattered silk remnants through the tent’s entrance behind them. Underneath, he wore a simple white shift, soaked with sweat and other things, and one of the soldiers slit this at the neck with a knife. They then pulled in opposite directions, tearing the shift clean off. Aidan knelt naked on the bare ground with his shoulders slumped in defeat, and all could see the small cuts and large bruises all over his body. His fat rolls trembled, and he urinated onto the packed dirt in fear, though he did not cry. Nadav smiled all the more.
“You can leave the king and I alone now,” the emperor said with a wave. The soldiers bowed shortly, turned and left, and Geoff made to follow them. “Lord Dahken Geoff, you’re welcome to stay and watch, even partake should it please you.”
Geoff grimaced ever so slightly, and Nadav laughed heartily at the reaction as the former left the tent, closing the flaps behind him. Realizing he slouched slightly, Nadav pulled himself up to his full height and slowly circled the broken fat king. He placed his right foot on Aidan’s sweaty upper back and pushed with all of his weight. Normally, Aidan’s size should have allowed him to resist, but exhausted, he simply fell forward. He caught himself barely
on his hands, skinning his palms as he did so.
“I see you are sore from riding. It’s a rather unpleasant business if you are unused to it, but I promise that pain will be a happy memory in a few minutes.”
Aidan screamed as he felt violated by the Loszian, and he began to sob openly again as Nadav pleasured himself.
“Perhaps you should find a way to enjoy this. I intend to take my time with you,” Nadav whispered in Aidan’s ear, “for when I am done, my seed is going to rot you away from the inside out.”
12.
“If what you say is true, then we’re the extreme eastern flank,” Paton said. A huge and well detailed leather map lay unfurled on the elm table in his study, weighted down by anything convenient and heavy, mostly books. He made notes and diagrams on the map with chalk so that he may simply wipe it off later with a damp cloth. “The Loszians wouldn’t dare assault Byrverus with a force so small. They could never take the city in a siege, especially with all of Garod’s priests there to aid the defense. If I were their general, I would start with the outlying lands, take down the smaller towns and strongholds one at a time until reinforcements can arrive from Losz.”
Lord Paton stood several inches shorter than Cor and had a noticeably thin, unimposing physique. He kept his brown hair short in the style of Garod’s priests and wore a closely cropped goatee beard that showed just a hint of gray, though he was perhaps twice Cor’s age. Cor wondered if he used some sort of dye to keep his hair its original color. Paton’s eyes matched his hair, and a sharp intellect shone in them. He was a learned man, a scholar by trade with an apparently extensive collection of tomes, but he was no soldier.
“I don’t think so, my lord,” Cor disagreed, sitting down in a nearby chair.
Lord Paton had told him several times that the titles could be dropped, but Cor felt a need to be respectful to this man who had taken them into his home. Other lords may have refused Cor and his Dahken on the rumors of treason and murder, but Paton received them as honored guests within his meager stronghold in mere moments. He immediately provided them shelter and accommodations within the small castle among his family and servants, just as he had provided the same to the Dahken who had arrived the previous day. When the children saw Cor and his band, there were cheers, embraces and tears all around.
Darkness and Steel Page 10