Darkness and Steel

by Martin Parece

  “This one’s startin’ t’ bleed again,” one Loszian said.

  “Then, when Terwin’s finished, we’ll use the younger one instead,” said another.

  “She’ll bleed too,” the first replied, and all three of the standing Loszians laughed obnoxiously, while the fourth huffed at his task.

  Red rage instantly took Cor, and screaming something unintelligible, he charged out of the darkness with Soulmourn and Ebonwing in hand. The great cry startled the Loszians into inaction, and even the one atop the girl, Terwin, stopped his thrusting to peer into the darkness as their eyes trying to find the source. A great devil clad in black, or perhaps it was some form of demonic spider thing that walked upon two legs, emerged from the gloom, charging at terrific speed. Its mouth agape, Terwin’s head went rolling through the air with a flash of steel, the body falling off to one side as it sprayed blood all over the poor girl. To the symphony of her screams, the second man fell as he watched the first’s head with astonishment. The third had just barely drawn steel before the demon’s blade took off his left leg at the knee, followed by his right arm at the shoulder and lastly his head. The final Loszian had sense enough to run for the stairs and had just began to call for aid when Soulmourn pierced his back and tore through the front of his chest, passing through his chain shirt as if it were brittle parchment. The man fell to his knees as Cor yanked the blade free, bringing it down again where his neck and shoulder met to cleave deeply into the body.

  By the time Cor turned to deal with the screaming and blood soaked girl, the Loszian was dead. She sat upright on the table, naked and screaming in the most ear piercing way as he approached, and he clapped one gauntleted hand across her mouth firmly to muffle her cries. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and as he looked beyond the girl, he saw four huddled forms in the nearest cell, in the same cell that had briefly held Thyss.

  “Shhh, you’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore,” Cor said as soothingly as he knew how. His voice echoed in his black helm, and the girl continued to scream into his hand, wide eyed in terror. He reached up with his free hand and pulled his helm off, a more difficult task than he had expected, but he dared not remove his other hand from the girl’s mouth. “See? I’m no Loszian. I’m here to help you. I have an army below. Please don’t scream any more. You’re safe now.”

  The girl quieted as the blind terror began to clear from her eyes, and he saw a ripped and discarded piece of clothing on the floor. Cor slowly pulled his hand away from her mouth, and finding that she did not scream, he reached down to pick it up. It was a simple dress of sorts, likely ripped off of her by the ruffians, and he used one end of it to wipe the still wet blood from her face. She was indeed just a young girl, barely into early womanhood, and Cor made certain he kept his eyes upon her face and not her naked body.

  “What is your name?” he asked, but she did not answer.

  “Is that your family?” he asked, looking toward the cell and those within that he could barely make out. When she did not answer, he said, “I have to go up those stairs for a moment. I just need to see that we’re safe while I get my people. I’ll only be away for a minute, do you promise me you won’t scream?”

  One of the forms in the cell had moved toward the bars, and Cor saw it was an old woman, perhaps well into her sixtieth year. Her white hair was filthy and tangled, and she too was naked except for a stained and disgusting blanket that was wrapped about her shoulders. “She’ll be just fine,” she said with a cracked and wizened voice. “I know not what sort of demon you be, but the pain you deliver is more merciful than theirs.”

  “I am no demon, My Lady,” Cor said, sliding the helm back over his head. “I am a Dahken, and I’m here to save you, Byrverus and the Shining West.”

  Cor turned and, as soundlessly as his armor would let him, bounded up the stairs.

  27.

  They took the palace in a mere matter of hours, storming its halls in a great deluge of shining steel, and they met little resistance – a few hundred Loszian soldiers and slaves, a few dozen dead and one lone lord. Cor took the necromancer himself, ignoring the Loszian’s magicks as Soulmourn ran him through. Cor didn’t know if the lord had thought to contact Nadav, nor did he care. It was just as well that the emperor knew of the loss of Byrverus. Just in case, they locked several enemy soldiers in the dungeon below to serve as messengers later.

  Clearing the plaza between the temple and palace complexes proved to be even easier. The men simply found every window they could and fired arrows or hurled heavy objects into the mass of dead below. As more and more bodies fell to the marble plaza, the herd thinned, and Cor threw open the palace’s main doors. He and the remaining paladins led a thousand soldiers into the plaza, pouring outward before the slow moving dead could turn to face the threat. The work was done in minutes.

  Rederick sheathed his giant sword and pulled off his great basinet helm. He shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes, much like a huge dog, and beamed Cor a wide smile. He crossed the plaza, stepping over and around dozens of bodies in various stages of decay to take the Dahken’s arm.

  “The first blow is struck. Garod help me Lord Dahken Cor, you have made me a believer. Now we must secure the rest of the city.”

  “We’ll need the rest of my people,” Cor said, releasing the man’s thick arm. “I’ll be faster if I go by myself. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

  “Not yet,” Rederick said with a shake of his head, “it’s too unsafe to risk losing you. I know you long for your woman and your son, but you have some time yet. There is much daylight left, and we can clear most of the upper part of the city. Tomorrow you will go get your people, because you’re right – we will need them as we move further into the city.”

  A great map of the city was found, and they laid it out on the floor of the palace’s main hall. Using a piece of charcoal, Rederick marked off the palace, temple and the plaza between. They then set about clearing the nearby areas, sending the host out into the city streets in force. Small groups of soldiers broke off of the main force to search the nearby buildings; they looked for the dead, but hoped to find survivors. They found few at first, but also they encountered little resistance.

  Cor surmised that Nadav had left only a token force behind to hold the city. The emperor had not expected an attack from within to be sure.

  The once great city of Byrverus, literally a beacon in the sunlight for miles around, was now a great ruin of marble, limestone and granite. Some of the buildings had gone undamaged, but most had sunken into the ground as little as a few inches and as much as several feet. The ruined foundations had caused the buildings above to crack and crumble, some of them toppling altogether onto themselves or into the streets. The streets, once well paved roads, were also broken, cracked and collapsed, sometimes causing the soldiers to leap across chasms. The destruction was total, and grown men wept at the sight of it. Only the temple and the palace, the two greatest buildings in the city, were spared damage.

  All the while, Cor ached to return to Thyss. The very thought that she may leave, taking their son with her, made his heart feel as if it were cleaved in two. He paced and huffed impatiently as assignments were handed out to squad after squad of soldiers, and as they returned, small areas of map were marked with charcoal. They did not need Cor for this part of the process, and in fact, they would need the extra thousand soldiers camped outside the outflow tunnels. Every time he brought this to Rederick’s attention, the paladin would simply ask for his patience.

  By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long broken shadows of long broken buildings, much of the noble district had been cleared. The soldiers returned to the plaza before night took the city to receive orders for watch shifts. Those who had done most of the day’s fighting were allowed to rest, while the others set up checkpoints in a wide perimeter around the area declared safe. Cor thought the plan logical, though unsustainable. They would need to start exploring the city
in sections, rather than an ever widening circle, ignoring that someone would have to crawl through every mile of the vast sewers. Rederick, Cor and many of the officers stayed awake late into the night as the men slept, discussing the coming days’ plans over and over.

  “Calm yourself Lord Dahken,” Rederick said when all of the talk was concluded, “For after the dawn tomorrow, you should go to your wife and child. We’ll need the manpower anyway.”

  “Thank you Lord Rederick,” Cor said with a bow, and he left to find a quiet, unspoiled room in which to sleep, though he did not sleep well.

  When Cor returned to the camp outside the outflow tunnels, it was riding on horseback through the surrounding villages instead of crawling through mostly dried waste. Pickets had been stationed in the village above the river, silently hiding in bushes or whatever cover made itself available. He came across these first, and they let out a great cheer when they saw him. The men below heard the cry, and they looked up to see the cause, some climbing the tall, steep embankment with drawn swords. As Cor carefully led his horse down to the river and camp, the rest of the Westerners took up the cry, cheering for they knew his return meant only victory. By the time he reached the bottom, Thyss was there with Cor’El, and he took them both in an embrace. She tried to speak, but he could hear nothing over the crowding soldiers. They pushed their way to their tent, Keth appearing from the crowd to follow them.

  “I worried for you, for you both,” Cor said once she closed the tent’s flaps behind them.

  “Not more than I for you I’m sure,” she replied. “So either, you are a most real apparition, or you were victorious and Byrverus is ours.”

  “Very nearly. The forces of Aquis are freeing the city as we speak,” he explained, taking his son into his arms with a smile that no one could see for his helm. “I think all of the Loszians are gone. Now we’re moving through the city building by building, eliminating the walking dead that Nadav left behind.”

  “Does he know? Nadav?”

  “I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure. Regardless, I have a plan to make sure he knows,” answered Cor, satisfaction heavy in his voice.

  “So that he may bring his army back down upon us,” Thyss said with a sigh.

  “Nadav can destroy Martherus and every city in the West once, but not twice. Eventually he may learn that fear and enchantment will not defeat hope and the strength it gives. The gods themselves have given our son the power to destroy the Loszians and their gods forever.”

  “If they don’t kill him as a babe…”

  “I will kill a thousand Nadavs before I allow that,” Cor said, reaching up to stroke one of Thyss’ cheeks with a gauntleted hand, “and you will burn their empire to cinders should I fail.”

  “Lord Dahken?” came Keth’s voice from one side, and Cor had forgotten the younger Dahken had followed them. “I’m surprised you came alone.”

  “It was faster that way,” Cor replied, handing his son back to Thyss.

  “Where is Dahken Marya? In the city?”

  “No,” Cor answered softly. “Keth, she left us.”

  “What?” asked Keth, fear in his voice. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s my fault. I denied her something she wanted, and Marya left us. She skulked her way back into the tunnels and disappeared.”

  “I’ll leave,” Keth said. “I’ll go now, find her and bring her back to us. We need her here with us.”

  Keth turned to leave the tent, but Cor moved quickly to bar his way. “No, leave her be. We may yet one day cross paths with Dahken Marya, but today is not that day. I need you at my side, Keth, as always.”

  “We need her,” Keth repeated, the said more softly, “I need her.”

  “One day,” Cor said, placing both of his hands on the younger man’s armored shoulders, “she’ll need you as much as you need her, and if she’s lucky, you will be there for her. For now my friend, me and the Dahken need you.”

  Keth sniffed once, wiping the back of an armguard across his nose. “What do you command Lord Dahken?”

  “Break camp, get everyone ready to go,” Cor said, dropping his hands and stepping out of Keth’s way. “We head for the palace within an hour. We have much work to do yet.”

  “As you will, Lord Dahken.” Keth exited the tent with another sniff.

  “I think he loves her,” Cor said softly, watching after Keth as he barked orders, “perhaps as much as I love you.”

  “Do you think Marya loves him?” Thyss asked, and he turned to face her.

  “No,” Cor replied. “I don’t think Marya knows how.”

  “What was it?”

  “What was what?” asked Cor, bewildered.

  “What did you deny Marya that made her leave?” Thyss asked, and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

  “Me,” he answered, “I denied her me.”

  “If you hadn’t, I would have killed her and made you a eunuch,” Thyss said venomously. She laid a now sleeping Cor’El gently on her bedroll and said, “Now will you take that gods damned bug head off so I can kiss you?”

  28.

  Queen Erella had selected Lord Rederick as the new Lord of Martherus when the city’s previous master had died. As Lord of Martherus, Rederick enjoyed near total control over the city and access to all of its wealth and resources should he so desire them, but he was a good man, true to the word of Garod and the queen. He did not take advantage of his position, and in fact, lived as spartanly as possible in a small plain cell, no different from any other low priest or acolyte.

  Managing such a large city would have been a daunting task for even one with incredible business acumen. As such, Rederick had nearly thirty direct advisors who also handled the most mundane day to day tasks of the city. A dozen priests, Mora among them, were responsible for maintaining the city and its social services. Meanwhile fifteen civic leaders, mostly guild masters, represented the interests of the people who lived within the city and the surrounding region. Rederick counted on his unofficial council to keep the city running and to work out most issues. After discussion and debate, the council would vote, settling any matter with eighteen of the twenty seven in agreement. Beyond that, it would go to Rederick.

  There were to be no policy changes made while Rederick was away at the Convocation, and of course, he had taken all of the priests with him. Five of them returned from Byrverus immediately after the Convocation’s end, while the others stayed with Rederick in Byrverus. When word of Byrverus’ destruction reached Martherus, the council was twenty. By the time Nadav’s army reached the city, camping about a mile from its walls, one priest and four of the others had fled along with thousands of commoners.

  These final fifteen voted ten to five for a total and unconditional surrender of Martherus to Sovereign Nadav. A rider delivered the message to the host, and within an hour, it marched right through Martherus’ open gates. Few were about the city streets, all having been told to stay in their homes or shops. Those that were about watched with fear and curiosity, though some even bowed to their new masters as they passed. Soldiers of Aquis watched anxiously from afar, and there were even a few heroic attempts at resistance. Those ended swiftly, and shortly after entering the city, Nadav was brought to the city’s council.

  Nadav stood at the head of their table in the modest hall in which they met, having thrust aside the great chair reserved for Rederick. He eyed them all carefully as a great fire roared in the fireplace some feet behind him, and the twelve empty chairs did not escape his notice. Four of Garod’s priests, dressed in the typically drab white robes looked back at him with undisguised hostility, while the others displayed various emotions or none at all.

  “I applaud your wisdom,” Nadav said. “Martherus would have been destroyed utterly just like Byrverus, and it still may if you do not recognize who rules Aquis now. Pledge your fealty to me, guarantee the loyalty of your subjects to the Loszian Empire, and your city will be spared. Though, we may have to rearrange the… social struct
ure somewhat.”

  “King Aidan rules Aquis,” venomously replied one of the infernal priests. “I was there when the Convocation chose him.”

  Nadav laughed darkly. “Your King Aidan is dead,” he said mirthfully. “I raped him to death myself, and I dare say he even began to enjoy it near the end! No, your Lord Rederick was in control of Byrverus when I arrived there, and I left him locked away in his own temple to die. He has no escape, surrounded by my servants on all sides. Eventually, he and his remaining people will starve to death, and his failure will be complete.”

  Nadav looked at each of their faces in turn as he let the weight of his words sink into their minds. Some remained impassive, while others showed surprise, dismay and fear. Nadav continued, “I have a few conditions that as yet have not been met. Every soldier, warrior, archer or mercenary in or around the city shall be collected and brought to some central place. I assume one of you can select a suitable site?”

  “What will you do with them?” asked an old, balding priest, his hostility scarcely disguised.

  “Not your concern,” Nadav said dismissively. “Garod’s time in this city is over. Even now, your oppressive temples are being torn to the ground, and any who resist shall be slain or enslaved for Loszian pleasure.”

  “Garod shall strike you down for such an offense!” shouted the priest as he stood from his chair, pointing an accusing finger. His chair upended and fell onto its back behind him with a clatter.

  “Really?” Nadav asked rhetorically, cocking his head slightly. “I don’t think so.”

  Nadav reached out from his robe as quickly as a striking snake, and for just a moment, a soft yellow glow erupted to protect the man. Nadav’s hand passed right through the light with no ill effects and wrapped itself around the priest’s exposed wrist. The priest fell to his knees with a cry of pain as the other council members shot up from their own chairs to back away from the table. The priest’s skin began to turn gray as ash at Nadav’s touch, and the gray spread its way across his flesh. Tears streamed down his face as he felt the corruption moving through his body, and once it had encompassed him fully, his flesh and bones began to turn to dust. Within moments, nothing but a filthy robe remained of the priest.