Darkness and Steel

by Martin Parece

  “Worry not about that my friend,” Cor said, putting his arm about Keth’s shoulders. “Two months will have passed by the time we return, and I promise she’ll have forgotten all about it.”

  Marya’s eyes followed the two Dahken as they returned to the gathering. Keth couldn’t seem to raise his eyes to meet hers, for the one time he did so, they seemed to say, What have you done? Moments later, Cor announced the change, announced that Keth would stay with the children while Marya accompanied he and Thyss. Marya’s gaze and jaw hardened, and she said not another word to Keth or anyone until several days into the journey.

  As he watched her leave in utter, furious silence, Keth felt like someone had torn his heart from his chest and squeezed it in a mailed gauntlet.

  * * *

  Rederick, Lord of Martherus and Custodian of Byrverus, stalked the halls of the palace and the temple awaiting real news. While holding the city for King Aidan, he had taken up residence in a meager cell within the temple halls. Rederick had given up all claim to luxury years ago when he gave him his lands in the north, and his quarters in Martherus contained nothing but a clean straw pallet and some buckets, the intended use of which was obvious. Here in Byrverus, he slept in an identical cell.

  There had been nothing but fearful rumors for days as dozens of commoners, mostly farmers in outlying areas, trickled into Byrverus. They spoke of a great army of the dead marching inexorably onward to the city, but as yet, no reliable sources had reported the same. Rederick sent out riders to scout the area and bring back word, and so far none had returned. He grew anxious with nothing to do but wait, as it had been two weeks since he sent out the riders.

  Regardless, the towering Lord of Martherus felt more serene assuming the worst as he often did in the past while defending the Northern Border from the bloodthirsty clans of Northmen. He prepared Byrverus for war, for siege. He ordered all food from the surrounding villages pulled into the city for safekeeping. He sent soldiers out into the same villages, asking the commoners to come within the city walls, bringing only what they could carry. Most did, but some would not abandon their homes. Rederick himself had also given up all pretence. Under his priestly robes, he wore a full suit of plate armor that had been polished to a high shine. Giant and handsome, to behold him was to behold the very image of the great warrior priests who had Cleansed Aquis centuries ago.

  When the first straggling refugees passed the gates into Byrverus telling their story, Rederick immediately seized control of the situation. Aidan was king, but Aidan left Rederick to watch over the city. That gave Rederick all the authority he needed to organize the city’s defenses and call its commanders to council. Though the Convocation had been over for weeks, most of Garod’s priests remained in the city, and he had met with most of them several times in the Auditorium for discussion. If the stories were true, the city would need Garod’s strength. He hoped that King Aidan had set up the entire affair as some sort of bizarre test of Rederick’s loyalty or resolve. It seemed to be a weak explanation, and even he didn’t put much stock in the idea.

  His hopes dissipated when the first of the scouts returned, exhausted and battered. A runner came to the temple, finding Rederick praying humbly, and whispered to him that one had made it back to the city walls. Mounting a horse, he followed the runner, a fleet footed boy, through the city’s streets, and eyes across Byrverus watched sharply as he sped by. In the end, the boy led him to one of the guardhouses just inside the wall, and inside Rederick found a guard captain and three of his fellows. A fifth man, dressed in brown leather and covered with dirt from hard riding sat leaning against a wall, drinking deeply from a wood vessel. All of the men knelt or bowed on his entry, and Rederick felt a profound negativity in the guardhouse, some combination of fear, sadness and anger.

  “I sense you do not have the best news,” Rederick assumed.

  “Yes, my lord,” the scout said, setting the bowl to the side. His face was covered with bruises and scrapes, as if he had been handled roughly. “I’m afraid the stories are true. I ran headlong into them about five days hard ride to the east, well beyond the towns and villages around the city. According to my maps, the road wound around the southern side of a small forest. I thought it best to cut through rather than lose time. I came out of the trees and was fifty yards from a nightmare. I’ve… I’ve never seen such evil.”

  “What, lad? What did you see?”

  “Thousands of them, thousands of dead, walking just as you or me,” he answered, and tearful fear filled his eyes. “My horse fell from beneath me, pierced by crossbow bolts. It fell upon my leg. I was trapped. If I could’ve just made it back to the trees.”

  “They captured you,” Rederick stated, attempting to prod the young man to continue with his story.

  “Yes, my lord. The… the dead surrounded me. They formed a ring around me and my fallen horse within spitting distance. The stench blew across the field and made me retch, paralyzed me. They just stood around me as if waiting for something. They didn’t even seem to see me. I watched as a chunk of maggot filled flesh fell to the ground off one. I think I screamed,” he said, and his face filled with shame.

  Rederick knelt beside him, though he still towered over the young man. “Lad, what is your name?”

  “Ward, my lord,” he answered after a pause, his face clearing as he focused his mind on something other than his memory.

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen, my lord.”

  “And when did you choose to serve Aquis?”

  “A joined the queen’s army a year ago.”

  “Son, you have a strong name, and you are a brave lad, joining the army so young,” Rederick said, placing a huge, reassuring hand on the boy’s narrow shoulder. “The king’s army is honored to have you among its ranks. I doubt many veteran soldiers would have done any better than you. Please continue. What happened when they took you?”

  “Soldiers, living men came and took me. They brought me before the most hideous people I have ever seen. They all wore dark colored robes of silk and were tall and alien, except for one. One looked like a Westerner, but he wore silver robes and had skin as gray as the walking corpses.”

  “A Dahken,” Rederick concluded. “So, the Dahken have betrayed us after all. I’m sorry for interrupting you Ward. Please continue.”

  “These others, my lord, they were as tall as you, but less than half your width. They had no hair and were pale of skin, but not like the other.”

  “Loszians,” Rederick explained.

  “One called himself Sovereign Nadav. He made me repeat the name over and over to be sure I wouldn’t forget. He said he has come to reunite the Shining West with the Loszian Empire. He said we cannot hope to resist, that we are weak compared to what he will bring down upon us. He…” Ward paused for a moment, “he has an offer for us.”

  “An offer we cannot possibly accept, I’m sure. What is it boy?”

  “We surrender to him now. All of us, not just Byrverus, but all of the Shining West. He promises to spare all of our lives, even our cities, if we swear our full loyalty to him and accept his lords as our masters,” Ward paused again as he watched darkness fall across Lord Rederick’s face. “He also says that those of us who are the most useful and loyal shall receive a great gift.”

  Rederick stood from his kneel and straightened his back. “So, the foul Loszian offers us to enslave ourselves it seems. He does not remember his history. He does not know what it is to face Garod’s fury. Let him come to Byrverus! We shall watch as his host breaks against our walls, and the light of Garod lays his army to final rest. Ward, did you see any sign of the king or his host? They should have passed that way.”

  The scout lowered his head for just a moment and then looked to the far side of the room. A small wooden crate sat upon a small cherry sideboard, and it surprised Rederick that he hadn’t seen it before. He approached slowly, fairly certain of what he would find within, and he scented the putrid stench of decay as he cam
e close. Prying open the lid with bare hands, which was nailed shut only lightly, he beheld precisely what he feared. King Aidan’s head, his crown affixed with iron nails, looked back at him. His eyes, irises and all were milky white, and the mouth was wide in a horrible caricature of a scream. The chubby flesh of his face was at once bloated and deflated as the natural course of decay continued. Lord Rederick resealed the lid, pushing the nails back into place with his thumbs, and he tucked the crate under one arm.

  “Son, your honored service to Aquis will not be forgotten. Captain, when our young Ward has recovered enough strength, see to it that he finds his way to me,” Rederick said, and he took his leave to find Master Acolyte Brenan, his Paladins and Byrverus’ commanders.

  15.

  Rederick, Steward of Aquis, tossed and turned incessantly for hours on his straw pallet. It wasn’t the discomfort of it that kept him awake, for he was used to that. It was the knowledge that battle would soon be upon him that made it impossible to sleep, and he always had the same problem those years ago when defending his lands from the Northmen. He had been awake for the last two or three days with no rest, except for the momentary nap, making the final preparations for defending Byrverus. Finally, his Paladins and other commanders left him no choice but to get a full night of sleep.

  “A leader who cannot stand cannot lead,” Mora had said, and Rederick finally acquiesced.

  Except, he could not rest. After several hours of restlessness, he finally took to drinking a substantial amount of a good red wine from southwestern Aquis. Rederick was a huge man, the very example of male physical strength, and he downed flagon after flagon before finally feeling the gentle warmth on his face and the pleasurable tingle in his belly. He stopped drinking, as it would not do to have him hung over, and immediately went to bed, expecting to be asleep within minutes. He dozed a few times only to have the smallest noise bring his consciousness screaming back to him.

  Master Acolyte Brenan had not called another Convocation, for there simply was not enough time. The bells tolled, as they always had when the king or queen passed, but temples across Aquis did not pick up the call, as was custom. Most of the priests were still in Byrverus, and those who had left would not yet have made it home. Brenan brought together in the Auditorium the priests that could be found, and he explained the situation fully. Within hours, the assembled priests voted to appoint Rederick the position of Steward, essentially giving him full powers as king but only to fight the invaders. A new Convocation would be called to choose a new king or queen after the Loszians were repulsed.

  Rederick immediately called his Paladins together, and announced them as his captains in the coming siege. He recruited most of the priests for the defense, as the powers they received from Garod would be much needed to heal and fight whatever dark magicks the Loszians may fling their way. Every soldier, from the lowest gate picket to the most polished royal guard was integrated into the standing garrison. Criers walked the streets of Byrverus calling for any able bodied person willing to fight for their country and god.

  Rederick then divided the army into a dozen cohesive units, each under the direct command of one of his Paladins. Byrverus had eight main gates leading through its massive white stoned walls into the surrounding towns and villages. He assigned each gate to one of his captains, with the remaining four divisions to act as reserve when needed. With catapults lining the twenty foot thick walls, ten thousand defenders and the power of his god, Rederick felt sure of their victory. It still did not mean he could sleep easily.

  He sent out more scouts, riders who were told what to expect and warned to keep their distance when they found the enemy. The Loszian host marched surely toward Byrverus, but not with the haste that Rederick expected. None of his scouts were molested or harmed; in fact, the Loszians ignored them completely. The host seemed to move onward at a fairly leisurely pace, as if they in fact waited for something and as such were in no hurry to reach Aquis’ capital.

  The Loszians seemed perfectly happy to let any remaining Westerners flee before their force, making no attempt to capture or harm the refugees in any way. They did not burn, pillage and destroy their way across the landscape. In fact they left everything – fields, farms, trees and homes – almost completely intact, taking only minor supplies as they passed. Of course, walking dead needed no resources or supplies. Even still, the lack of destruction by such a large invading host, especially one known for its evil, puzzled Rederick and his captains.

  The Steward of Aquis finally dozed into a deep sleep in the early morning hours, when the sky on the eastern horizon had just begun to lighten to the darkest shade of blue imaginable. As the sun rose, sending warm yellow light into his cell, he did not stir in any way. It was late in the morning, only a couple of hours before noon that he finally rose, awakened by Captain Mora gently shaking his left shoulder.

  “Why did you let me sleep so late?” he asked groggily when he looked through his open shutters at the sun. His eyes didn’t want to stay open, and his head pulsated slightly. Perhaps he had drunk too much wine after all.

  “My apologies lord,” she said with a slight bow of her head, “but you hadn’t slept in days. I thought it best to allow you as much rest as possible. I would have allowed you more sleep, but time grows short.”

  “How long?”

  “A few hours, no more. As decided, all who would come within the city walls have done so. Most of the rest have fled, but there are a few stragglers who refuse to leave their homes,” she explained.

  “Garod help them,” Rederick intoned softly. He groaned as he climbed to his feet. He had slept in his armor often enough over the years, but it still made him sore. “What of our readiness? Catapults, archers, the men?”

  Mora winced at the general assumption of most military men that all soldiers were also men. It was true that women warriors seemed rare in the Shining West, but she also knew that they were common enough in Tigol and even Dulkur. She knew that he meant nothing by it and that she had earned the respect of Rederick and all of the men with whom she served, but despite the years, the expression still annoyed her.

  “Everything is ready, as per orders,” she responded professionally, hiding her irritation.

  “Allow me a half hour to break my fast, and then we go to the wall.”

  * * *

  Rederick walked the battlements of Byrverus’ great outer wall, reassuring those who would defend it, while they watched the horde below. The soldiers showed anxiousness that belied their experience; most of them had never fought a real foe before, and below them stood the largest host even Rederick had ever seen. Mostly, the soldiers were farm boys and merchants’ sons, playing at war, and most of them had never seen real battle. They were green and afraid, but seeing the large armored priest moving through their ranks seemingly unafraid gave them heart.

  At the least, Rederick and his captains, his Paladins, had seen much combat. For over twenty years, Rederick had warred with the Northmen, protecting northern Aquis from their bloodthirsty raids. The other Paladins had all fought their fair share of battles as well. Wars had occurred over the years that almost no one in the Shining West had even heard about.

  Horde was in fact the perfect word for what lay far below the city wall. Even a half mile away and beyond longbow range, one could easily see the massive host that seemed to be standing still, awaiting some command. Only a very small portion of the host moved at all, perhaps ten of the fifty thousand, while the rest stood perfectly still. Rederick knew that the latter were the dead, made to walk by foul Loszian sorcery, and he hoped that those atop the wall did not. The army below stood in the streets and alleys of the villages on Byrverus’ southeastern side, still oddly leaving everything around it intact.

  Rederick assumed some form of parlay would be offered, but he was unprepared for the form in which it would be offered. A single form emerged from the dead mass and made its way forward, slowly walking and almost tripping over the smallest of obstacles in its p
ath. The figure wore steel armor, shining in the bright afternoon sun, though it did not move with a purposeful mind. As it came within bow range, several archers drew back their arrows and awaited the order fell their target. Rederick held them back, watching with curiosity. It took the man almost ten minutes to finally reach the main gate, and he stood before it silently, unmoving.

  “It would seem the Loszians wish to talk,” Rederick said to Mora, and she followed him into one of the great towers and down its stairs.

  Upon reaching the main gate, Rederick ordered portcullises raised and heavy wood and iron gates opened ominously. As soon as there was room for the armored figure to pass, it shambled forward through the portal. As it crossed to their side, the Westerners were able to examine it fully. It was a man, though he did not live, and he reeked of a charnel house. He wore a suit of scale mail, and the symbol of Aquis, plain upon the hauberk, had been cleaved through by some heavy blade, perhaps that of a battleaxe. He wore no helm, and this made clear to all his nonliving status. The man’s black hair had apparently fallen out in large clumps, and the skin of his scalp and face had swollen and turned shades of red, purple and blue. His eyes were unseeing gray orbs, seemingly dried and shrunken by the summer heat, and a large crow sat on his left shoulder, pecking at the ear and decaying flesh of his neck.

  Several of Rederick’s soldiers stepped back in fear, horror or revulsion, and one or two less hardened boys even turned to wretch the contents of their stomachs to the street. Even Mora seemed appalled, her emotions plain on her face, before they turned to anger and outrage at the defilement of the dead. Rederick, Steward of Aquis, on the other hand, stepped forward to face the thing, and at his approach, the crow attempted to take wing over the city. As it flapped its wings to fly away, Rederick reached out a massive gauntleted hand and slapped the crow out of the sky. It fell dead at his feet.