by Heath Pfaff
"Go with them, Grotfen-groa. Go with them to meet His Highness, his High Lord of All." The one who had spoken to us first, called out one of their number. A particularly tall figure broke off from the others, separating from the greater group of dark cloaks like a shard of shadow splitting from the night. He stood before us. His name, Grotfen-groa, struck a bell in my mind. It took me a moment to recall the information, but when I did, I was startled. Grotfen-groa was from an ancient numbering system. It meant seventy-two. I hoped the name was simply an odd choice from the man's parents, but I believed that such was not the case.
More than likely, whoever was creating the Fell Beast-men, was using the ancient number system to name them as well. I would have asked about it under normal circumstances, but the creatures were obviously hostile, and I was more intent upon finding Kay. Still, I wondered just how many of the feral monsters the king had made.
I didn't know it then, but I was to have a better understanding of that question before I was to have any answers concerning Kay. Grotfen-Groa lead us through the city at a quick clip, not traveling as swiftly as I would have liked, but moving fast enough that most people would have been uncomfortable keeping pace over a long period of time. He didn't speak as we walked, which was fine by me, since it gave me time to take in the sights of the human capital city. What I witnessed distressed me. The city was eerily quiet. Those few people who walked the streets seemed intent upon getting where they were going as quickly as possible. There was none of the bustle and crowd that I had anticipated upon first viewing the sprawling mass that was Kreo.
Black Cloaks, which is how I had begun to think of the creatures like Grotfen-groa, patrolled the streets in groups of two, and we seemed to see more of them than actual people in the city. The people cut them a wide path, almost running to clear the way for them. I saw not a single human guard as we traversed first linear, and then winding, blocks. Had the king entirely replaced his force with the black cloaked creatures? I looked about me at the dead city, and realized that what I was seeing was not something that had happened over night. To so subdue a city would have taken a great deal of time. I realized then, that what I was witnessing was the demise of Kreo. A city without a thriving and happy people was doomed to fall apart eventually. I wasn't sure what the king was thinking. I intended to find out, however.
The walk through the city took us several hours, even moving at a quick pace. We passed beneath each of the cities four walls in turn, each becoming slightly less massive then the previous. However, contrary to the quality of the walls, the buildings became more resplendent as we progressed. Those who had originally built their homes about the castle had done so in an extravagant fashion. The same held true of the storefronts, and the quality of the street work. Some of it was obviously recently refurbished, but it all retained a classic quality that was hard to disapprove of. Of course, the building quality did nothing to detract from the fact that the organization of the streets was becoming more chaotic the closer to the center we came. Despite the tightness of the streets, they remained quiet but for patrols and the few scared looking city folk, intently attempting to get out of our way.
Finally, after what had felt like a lifetime to me, we reached the castle proper. It was a fortress that stretched high into the sky above us, tall and intimidating against the evening light. It was so tall, that from its base, I could not see the highest spire when looking up. Any windows that existed on the lower floors were so small as to be almost unnoticeable, and the door we approached was small and narrow as well. It was a feature that made it difficult for any attacker to assault the inner castle in force, but the design was a double edged sword, for it also made it difficult for anyone within the castle to get out quickly if the need arose. From my time as a loremaster, I knew that there was generally a second, secret passage that leads in and out of a castle. The second passage usually ends a long distance from the castle ground, and could be wide enough to lead several men down. I didn't know for certain, but I believed the Kreo fortress was no different. Underground tunnels and hidden pathways were a fixture in all old military structures.
Our guide hammered on the door with one of his solid fists, a tightly packed ball of sinew and bone that could rend a man to pieces if so applied. After a moment, the door swung open and a man in a shifting Lucidil cloak stepped forward. I recognized him immediately. It was Tempest, the first Knight of Ethan I had ever encountered, and the one who had brought me to the Knights of Ethan to receive my training. His cold black eyes passed over all of us, and finally settled on our guide.
"I bring the Lowin, he who breaks oath." Said Grotfen-Groa, the first words I'd heard him speak. There was a certain grim pleasure behind his words, a sound that put me ill at ease.
Tempest stepped entirely out from the door frame. He was short for a Knight of Ethan, but still had to crouch while in the opening. His black eyes locked on mine, a look as fierce as I'd ever seen them to have, boring into me. He was still intimidating, even with all that had gone before us.
"You've changed, Fenly." He said, his voice partially laced with a trait the Knights of Ethan called "the voice." I had not learned its source yet, but I knew that it was something taken unto our bodies much like the Fell Beast parts, or the horns some of the knights had. Once a Knight had "the voice," he could strike fear into the hearts of most men simply be speaking, and his roar was enough to terrify man and beast alike. With enough training, the Knight could eventually control the talent to the point where it no longer terrified all who heard it, but the effects of the change never quite left their tones. Tempest had gotten better over the years.
"You've changed, but not for the better." Tempest added after a moment of consideration. In his face I saw a hint of the same betrayal I had once seen in the face of Brutal, the man I had killed in order to protect Malice. I was again reminded that I had turned my back on many things in the pursuit of my ambitions. Tempest was one of many who would give me such a look, and likely give me far worse, if offered half the chance.
"Time changes us all." I heard Malice say from behind me. "Sometimes it takes change before we are able to see the truth of things."
Tempest looked at her, and I noticed him start slightly as his eyes passed over hers. When last he had known her, she'd had black eyes like his own. Those few Knights of Ethan, fallen from grace or not, with colored eyes were rare. Lucidil, with his fiery red eyes, had once told me that it was a sign of strength, a strength born of the depth of our attachment to the one which we were bound. Because I had loved Kyeia, and she had loved me, my eyes, Kye's mortal gift to me, were purer of color than any Knight before. My strength, though, had not been enough to save me from tragedy. Kye died, Kay was lost to me, and Wisp had been murdered and violated.
"I'd heard rumors that your eyes had awakened, but I did not suspect that they were true. How. . ." Tempest began, but Malice cut him off.
"We're on business, Tempest. If you wouldn't mind showing us to the king, we'd like to be done with this." Her voice held a sharp edge. I reminded myself that she was every bit as tense as I was concerning our current situation. Her patience was just as frayed as my own. I wondered again where Tyvel had gone to. It's not that his presence was comforting, but that the lack of his presence was disconcerting.
"One moment, then." Tempest said, returning through the narrow entryway, and closing the door behind him as he went.
"The king will kill you for your betrayal, oath breaker. He will cleave your head from your body and hang it atop his wall." The black cloaked figure that had been our guide said, his eyes sparkling beneath the dark hood.
I heard the sound of metal clearing leather and saw, to my surprise, that Malice had drawn her steel. There was a dangerous look in her eyes, one to match anything the black cloak might have to offer.
"Shut your rotting hole, or your head will reach the wall in far shorter time." Her voice was as cold as the metal she wielded. I placed a hand on the hilt of my own weapon, uncerta
in where events might go next.
The black cloak merely smiled, and placed a finger over his lips, as if quieting himself. He took a step back, bowing slightly. I watched Malice, not sure what she would do. The point of her sword was so steady that she could have been a statue. Not only was I uncertain what she would do, I didn't believe that Malice knew what she intended either. A few breaths passed, and finally she returned her sword to its scabbard, and stood quietly by me once more.
We waited in silence for Tempest to return, the time seeming to crawl by with painful slowness. Tension hung in the air, growing heavier by the moment, until I feared someone would do something drastic just to end the torment of waiting. It was then that the door swung open once more, and Tempest stepped through.
"The king will see you both now." He said, before turning and going back through the narrow doorway. Malice and I followed him. The gap ran five feet long and required one of my height to enter slightly hunched over, and strafing sideways to clear the thinner portions of solid stone wall. The castle had not been built with comfortable passage in mind, but with the intention of offering strong defense, and the entry would serve well for that. To my pleasure and relief, the black cloak did not accompany us into the castle. His threat still hung heavily in my mind. What did the king intended for us?
The narrow entry way opened up into a large room, large enough for a sizable force to pile in and hold the narrow gap for as long as need be, I realized. It was yet another defensive design choice. Within this large opening, four more Knights of Ethan stood in waiting. I didn't recognize any of them. I was noticing that the black cloaked creations seemed to be only used in places outside of the castle. Perhaps the king was afraid of his own demons. That was an important detail, I thought, and so made a point of remembering it.
"Should we take their weapons?" A female Knight of Ethan spoke from where she stood, hand on hilt, as we entered the room.
Tempest considered that for a moment, and then shrugged. "It wouldn't make them much less dangerous," He looked at us both pointedly. "And I don't believe they're stupid enough to try anything with so many Knights around." He turned to look intently at Malice and me. "I will not do you the dishonor of stripping you of your weapons." His eyes narrowed. "What happens after you meet with his Highness, will be for him to decide. I make you no promises."
I found myself waiting once more, this time I was just beyond the great double doors leading to the king's audience chamber. All around Malice and me stood an entourage of Knights, all dressed in their shifting cloaks in various postures of readiness. I counted eight of them, all watching us with the intensity of a predator eying prey. Tyvel was still absent, and what little of my patience remained was dwindling more quickly by the second.
Tempest had gone ahead. Without his presence the other Knights around us seemed far more menacing. I wondered if they all knew about my weakened state. In my chest I could feel the slow rhythmic beating of my heart. Over the past few days it had begun to feel natural again. It was almost as if I had never severely damaged it in my fight with Whisper of the Mist. Unfortunately, I knew better than that. My healing ability had kept me alive to that point, but my heart could only take so much strain. The only question that remained for me was whether or not the Knights of Ethan surrounding me knew that I was less than whole. I hoped they did not. I straightened my shoulders and stood as tall as I could.
At long last, in what I hoped would be the culmination of all my waiting, Tempest swung open the double doors and spoke the words I both dreaded and anticipated.
"The king will see you now." He turned his back as he finished talking, and proceeded back through the double doors. The other Knights of Ethan followed behind him, and once they were all through, we followed after them.
The audience chamber was decorated in such a way that one wouldn't know it was part of a stone fortress. The walls had been paneled in wood, and the floor was lushly carpeted. There was a large round table in the center of the room. Tapestries adorned the walls, featuring images of lush natural scenes, and at the far end of the room sat the throne atop a raised platform. The room was larger than any found in a normal home, but far smaller than a dining hall might have been. It was, however, spacious enough to accommodate all those gathered.
The king sat in the throne, dressed in the finest clothes I'd ever seen. The fabric he wore shone with its own unique type of magic. The Knights of Ethan had cloaks designed for functionality, and the king's outfit was different, yet similar in its own fashion. I sensed that it served a purpose, but that purpose was far different from the shifting cloaks worn by the Knights. Even as resistant to such glamour as my eyes were, I could not help but be impressed and awed at the sight of the king; the subtle magics of his attire working their suggestions on my mind. He also wore an assortment of expensive looking jewels, including those set in his crown, a thoroughfare of black and purple stones of extremely fine cut.
The man beneath the crown looked every bit the part of a king. His features were noble and strong, the result of a long line of intentional breeding. He had a wolfish intelligence about his eyes, but also a calm brutality that spoke much of his personality without him ever having to say a word. I was immediately reminded of Lucidil, the leader of the Broken Swords. He shared an intensity with the king, a set of the jaw that said he would obtain what he wanted, whatever the cost might be.
The king was not alone on his raised platform. To either side of him stood a different person. On his left was a man I knew only too well. Ethaniel, the leader and founder of the Knights of Ethan, and the king's primary advisor on all matters of security and war. He stood in a dignified silence, tall and powerful, his eyes shining with the barest hint of deep blue in their black depths. He was considered by many to be the strongest of the Knights of Ethan. Lucidil believed himself stronger, and he believed that I too was stronger, but I was not certain myself. Strength seemed to radiate from the legendary figure. Ethaniel wore no cloak, but a simple outfit of gray and black, his sword at his side, and his massive wings folded behind him.
To the king's other side was a woman I did not recognize at all. Not only was her face unfamiliar to me, but her entire race was one I had never encountered before. Her skin was a deep ashen gray, and her long hair, which hung freely about her shoulders, was a pale blue so light that it looked as though it were merely a white blond being kissed by moonlight. She was tall, taller even than Malice and I, and muscular as well. She held a long spear with a wicked edged blade at one end, and what appeared to be a weighted ball at the other. It was not a weapon design I was familiar with. Her clothes were also of an unfamiliar cut, form fitting, but shaped of what appeared to be a solid hide material. It looked like a light form of armor, but I could not be certain without closer inspection. Most startling of all about this woman were her eyes that shone like mirrors, silver and reflective. I wondered if she were one of a people I had never heard of, or another creation of the king.
We reached the base of the dais, only a line of Knights and fifteen feet stood between us and the king, the man who had ordered my daughter kidnapped and Wisp murdered. I forced myself to remain calm because every muscle in my body, every single piece of my being, wanted me to carve a path of death straight through to the man who had cost me so much. The king stood from his throne.
"You have your audience, now speak your case." He said, and there was anger in his voice. At that I nearly lost my composure. That he would stand up and demand that I speak my case, when he had been the one to bring such destruction into my life. He had been the one to force my audience.
"Where is my daughter?!" I demanded, pushing back my hood. "What have you done to Kaylien?"
There was a sharp intake of breath from the Knights gathered around, and no few swords began to slide from scabbards. The king's voice piled over top of all other sounds, seeming to thunder unnaturally from him. I guessed it to be an augmentation provided by some form of enchantment.
"You dare c
ome into my court and accuse me of wrong doing, Lowin Fenly, when it is you and yours who have wronged this kingdom? You, who have been given so much, and elevated to the highest position next to my own, dare come into this place and make such venomous accusations?" His voice grew louder with every word, attempting to force me into supplication, but I would not be bowed.
"You killed the woman I love. You ordered my daughter stolen away, and your men killed and raped a woman I cherished as a sister. If you do not tell me what you have done with my daughter now, I swear I will have your head." The words escaped me before I could hold them back. I knew the mistake in them before I even heard the whisper of every sword in the room leaving a scabbard.
"It is obvious my advisor, Tyvel, was fooled by you. You have no information that would be of value to me. To the dungeons with you both. I will decide your fate tonight, and tomorrow your punishment will be carried out." At his words, the guards advanced on us, though neither Ethaniel or the silver-eyed woman moved from where they stood. The silver-eyed warrior seemed to have a sad expression on her face, as though she was disappointed by something, but I did not have time to consider such things. My hopes were crushed. Tyvel had been right.