Talena's eyes softened with tears. "I… am… sorry," she choked out.
Ursa released her and slumped back into his chair when a knock at his door drew his attention. "What do you want?"
The door creaked open and a servant entered nervously at seeing the room in such a fray. "There is word of the barbarian army, Master Ursa - Lady Jewel wishes you to meet her in the counsel room."
"How did we not know of this earlier?" Jewel barked to her Generals. "How does an army of this magnitude just cross our land without our knowledge?"
"We do not know, my Lady," one of the Generals replied nervously.
"That explanation is not good enough General Miles!" Jewel hissed back. "Is this not your duty to ensure the safety of our lands from our enemies?"
"Well, we have known that there has been a larger amount of barbarian activity lately, but that is normal for this time of year - nothing seemed out of the norm. A few small towns were sacked and robbed, a few dozen caravans and supply wagons, but nothing unusual," Miles tried to counter.
"Why have I not been informed of such issues?"
"In all due respect, my Lady, we know you have been busy seeing to Lord Marcus - we did not think to bother you with such trivial reports," Miles explained to her.
Jewel's eyes went wide with astonishment. "Am I not the Lady of this land?
"Yes, my Lady," General Miles replied nervously.
"Then I will be damn well treated as such!" she raged. "Do not ever presume to spare me the details of the goings on of my lands!"
"My apologies," Miles replied with a bow of his head.
"Uveal, what can you tell me about our enemy?" Jewel asked, calming herself.
"It looks like they have been traveling in small groups, which would explain why we did not notice any large armies. The sighting of so many small groups would bed thought that one group was moving often rather than being different groups entirely," Uveal explained. "But now as they near, the tribes are merging together. It would appear Master Ursa was correct when he informed you that they would try to take the castle. Their numbers are staggering."
"That is ridiculous!" Barkel blurted out.
"What do you suggest, General?" Jewel asked stone-faced.
"We prepare for a siege, my Lady," General Miles told her, "and quickly."
"Make it so, General," Jewel ordered and everyone got up to leave. "Ursa, Barkel, and Rift, I would have you stay for a moment." Once the room had emptied, Jewel spoke. "I have gotten word the Queen Nicolette is nowhere to be found."
"What!" Rift cried out.
"Furthermore, Zehava, Dahak and Shania are also missing from the castle." Jewel told them.
"Where could they have gone?" Barkel asked, truly overwhelmed.
Ursa sighed loudly. "They went to find him."
16
Pavilion watched the other four assassins make their way through the city toward Draco Castle. He had to admire them - they were, by far, the best assassins he had ever seen. They had arrived in Draco late in the evening of the third night. They had made incredible time, though men fueled by the promise of riches normally did.
The four assassins had traveled together to Draco, Pavilion wondered if they did so for the company or to brag about how many men they had each killed, to try to intimidate each other. Pavilion doubted any of them would be so easily intimidated - they were the finest at their trade. Once they had reached the city, they all went their separate ways - for that was the way of the assassin…and of greed.
Pavilion had not traveled with them, but instead, had kept a distance. He could have easily passed by them and made it to Draco before them, but instead he stayed behind, watching them, learning from them - who they were by their movements and their skills. Pavilion was a loner now, and preferred the company of silence rather than men. However, these men could well become his enemies and he wanted all the advantage he could gain.
He watched the four men swiftly maneuver through the streets and alleys and finally he lost sight of them. He knew he could easily find any one of them again, but decided he had better get to work. For if what he had been told was true, this would be his greatest target. For most men, that thought alone was enough to bring some form of emotion - be it happiness, excitement or even fear - but it stirred nothing in him but indifference.
*****
Tundal sat at the large oak desk within Borrack's grand study, a mountain of parchments surrounding him. There were so many delicate affairs to stay on top of, to keep the prosperous Kingdom running smoothly in such dire times, and Tundal refused to let any of it slip. Borrack had slaved away for too many years to build the Kingdom's wealth, for him to allow it to falter now.
Tundal drained his wine cup in a single gulp, his head already dulled by the effects of wine he indulged in earlier. He had received word that afternoon that Mandrake had fallen and now was in the clutches of the enemy. Dagon had asked for more men so he could take back his castle and lands.
He poured himself another cup of wine, knowing he did not need it. He required it to help him make the hardest decision he had ever had to make before - one he wished was not his to decide. He swirled the wine in his cup, its ruby tones reminding him of the color of blood. The analogy was not lost on him, nor did it make his decision any easier. So much blood already spilled and yet so much more would be before anything could be resolved.
Tundal went to the doorway and called over the first servant he saw. "Find Lord Dagon's messenger and bring him to me at once, I have made my decision."
Returning to his seat he waited, knowing it would not be long as he drained the remains of his wine. Liquid courage, as if he was telling his friend his decision in the flesh. "I am sorry, my friend," he whispered to himself.
"You sent for me, my Lord?" The messenger asked, entering the study with a hesitant step.
Tundal stood and gestured the man over. "My apologies for making you wait so long…" His voice trailed off as he noticed Prince Berrit follow the messenger in. "Prince Berrit, is there something I can do for you?"
"I was merely keeping our guest entertained, when you summoned him. I would be lying if I did not say my curiosity is piqued as to your decision," he replied with a smile. "Shall I leave?"
"You may stay - I need to speak with you afterward on other matters." Tundal told him. "Now where was I? Yes, right, my heart and soul burns with the desire of vengeance for the defeat Dagon and his people have suffered. I share the same yearning to flood the enemy with cold steel and spill the lifeblood of every savage to set foot in our Kingdom, but I cannot grant Lord Dagon's request of a thousand soldiers."
"What?" Both the messenger and Berrit blurted out - surprised by Tundal's decision.
Tundal took a deep breath to steady his nerve. "Furthermore, I will require Lord Dagon and what men he has under his command to ride back to Draco Castle immediately, so that we may regroup."
"Are you mad?" Prince Berrit exclaimed.
The messenger stood there, his mouth agape. "My Lord, are you sure about this?"
"I am sure. I know Lord Dagon will not understand, but I need him to trust in me and my judgment. Once he has returned I will fully inform him of all my reasoning."
"Reasoning?" Berrit barked out. "I see no reasoning, only madness!"
Tundal did his best to ignore Berrit. "That will be all. Gather whatever supplies you will need for the return trip and obtain a fresh horse from the stables and make haste."
"Yes, My Lord," the messenger replied, clearly dumbfounded by the message he was to carry back to his Lord as he left the study.
"Have you been moonstruck?" Berrit bellowed out as soon as the messenger had left. "Why will you not grant Lord Dagon the men he requests?"
"I do not appreciate your tone," Tundal warned, "or your lack of formality in front of my men. Nor is my decision any of your business. I will excuse your insolences, for I shall not have to suffer them again."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Berrit snapped
back, closing the study door.
"It means - my good Prince Berrit - that you have overstayed your welcome here and on the morrow you will be departing back to Zandor," Tundal replied sternly.
"Excuse me?" Berrit stammered as if he had been slapped.
"I believe you heard me well enough." Tundal leaned against the desk. "I will have your men gathered and ready with your carriage and belongings. With an additional hundred and fifty men to make up for the men you lent to Lord Dagon to escort you to the borders of Zandor. When Dagon arrives, I shall have your men well supplied and sent with haste back to Zandor."
"Who do you think you are? Ordering me around like I am some sort of commoner!"
"I am the Lord of this Kingdom, until Queen Nicolette is returned, and if she is not and it comes to be that she is dead, then I am the new King of Draco. That is who I am. Who are you in this Kingdom? Now leave, I have more important matters to attend to." Tundal turned back to the parchments on the desk.
Berrit's face twisted in rage. "You… you impudent…" Berrit's demeanor calmed eerily. "No, no more of this pathetic charade."
"What are you talking about?" Tundal turned back to face Berrit, but a stranger stood in his place. "What foul deception is this?" Tundal bellowed, stumbling back, hitting the desk awkwardly.
The man grinned maliciously. "I am actually glad this happened now - I was getting so tired of dancing around you. Things will go so much smoother with you out of the way." The stranger pulled his dagger, intent imprinted on his face.
"You whoreson! I knew something about you was not right!" Tundal growled, his hand frantically pulling his own dagger as he lunged forward.
Astaroth easily sidestepped the sloppy assault and drove his dagger through Tundal's rib cage into his beating heart, and gave the dagger a twist.
"Foolish old man." He yanked his dagger out and let Tundal's body collapse to the carpeted floor.
"My love, your anger is making you careless." a voice purred behind him.
Astaroth turned to see Vashina - his partner and lover - standing a dozen paces away by the window with a dangerous looking man at knifepoint.
"Who is this?" Astaroth muttered, clearly frustrated at the night's events and how they were unfolding.
"I am assuming he was working for Lord Tundal and was going to try to kill you - I saw him sneak into the library from the back, like only a highly skilled assassin could - so I followed and lo and behold, once you killed poor Lord Tundal, he went to make his move while your back was turned. You may thank me later," Vashina cooed seductively.
"Thank you, later I shall." He ran his blade over the assassin's face tauntingly. "Did our good Lord Tundal hire you?" The assassin spat in Astaroth's face, his features defiant and his eyes void of fear. "Looks like we have our cover up," he snarled, thrusting his dagger deep into the man's chest several times.
Vashina pouted disappointed, letting the dead assassin crumple to the floor. "I was hoping you would let me play with him for a while."
"There will be time for play later," Astaroth smirked. "Now make yourself scarce - this mess may take a while to clean." His featured returned to those of Prince Berrit as he let out a terrified scream for help.
"Well my love, there is one more problem out of our way," Astaroth laughed, taking a large sip of wine while sinking into the huge tub, glad the long night was nearly over.
"I cannot believe that old man would act so boldly as to hire an assassin - the very nerve of some people," Vashina replied, watching him from the bed lustfully.
"No matter, I am just glad he is no more. It was convenient that our good Tundal would pick such a well-known assassin. The guards recognized him, making it all the easier to convince them that the assassin tried to kill us both." Astaroth grinned. "Lord Tundal - the hero - jumping in front to help me, but unfortunately taking a very fatal blow for his efforts. Then I quickly dispatched the assassin in hopes to save us both." Astaroth laughed cruelly, recounting the story he had told everyone and had been thankful he had been easily believed. "Come, join me, my pet," he beckoned to Vashina. "I am in need."
Vashina smirked playfully as she stalked over to the steaming tub, her flawlessly curved hips swaying seductively with every teasing step. Her slender, skillful hands quickly undid the several straps holding closed her dark crimson leather vest. Enticingly, she pulled open her vest revealing her toned, smooth stomach, knowing each exaggerated moment intensified his lust for her. Finally, she reached for the ample suppleness of her breasts and let the armored garment fall carelessly to the dark marble floor. His excitement was evident - his quickening breath and the animation dancing in his eyes. She ran her hand down between her breasts and continued until her fingers found the thick black belt holding up her unique, dark armored leggings.
Astaroth admired her sexually seductive show with a quickly growing desire. He watched her slip out of her leggings, leaving her completely naked with the exception an enchanted knife sheath, strapped to her right thigh. She almost never removed it. The enchanted sheath held an endless supply of throwing knifes - no matter how many she threw, there would always be eight more at the ready. She had acquired it many years before, at an extremely high price.
"Things are not going as smoothly as we had expected they would," Vashina reminded him as she slid into the steaming tub and caressed his cheek fondly.
Astaroth frowned at her for the reminder. "Yes, I am well aware of that, thank you. Ursa escaping with the Princess is definitely causing minor troubles, but other than that, everything is going as expected. Our barbarian comrades have taken out Mandrake and are preparing as we speak to march on Dragon's Cove. And now they believe enough in the cause that the high priests and priestesses are joining in the war," Astaroth cooed wickedly, a grin spread widely across his face.
"I would so have loved to get a taste of Ursa's Gift - his young apprentice too," Vashina commented, while pouring more scented oils into the steaming bath.
"We will have them soon enough my love, but for now we will have to settle for those Wizards who shall be here in a few days," Astaroth replied, his attention snapping to the other side of the room at the slight sound of footsteps.
"You just now realized, my darling? You are getting too comfortable in this castle life," Vashina teased, having sensed someone in the room moments before.
An arrow shot out toward Astaroth's back from the far side of the room, he summoned his innate ability and the arrow ignited into ravenous flames, incinerating the shaft before it had time to clear the distance.
"Come out and your life may be spared, fool!" Astaroth commanded angrily, stepping out of the bath, another arrow sliced out from behind the large bookshelf. Again, the arrow ignited in flames, but as soon as it did so, the arrow exploded, sending sparks and flames into Astaroth's face. He threw his arms up in defense of the flaming shards.
Another assassin took his cue, leaped out from behind the thick drapes with both short sword and dirk in hand, and sprinted toward Astaroth's unguarded back.
Vashina saw the second attacker from the corner of her eye, her hand flashed down and she let fly two of her deadly knifes in a single snap of her wrist. The assassin deflected both spinning blades with his own masterfully, without slowing or faltering his charge. His skills were impressive, his experience and abilities quickly apparent. He reached his target, his sword down and to the side he slashed upward, hoping to get a quick finish without his enemy ever seeing it.
Astaroth did see it - anger now burning in him. His arm came from across his face toward the attacker and with it; several small icicles formed, in an instant, at the ends of his fingertips and propelled forward, embedding deeply into the assassin's chest, sending him staggering backward. The assassin dropped his weapons and tried to grab at the ice blades imbedded within his torso but he could not get a firm grip as his hands slipped on the fresh blood.
Another arrow sliced through the air toward Astaroth's unprotected side, but his now heightened senses
alerted him and he spun around and snapped the arrow shaft out of midair before it could pierce his flesh.
Astaroth's fury was nearly uncontrollable and Wizard's fire flared to life across his body as he walked toward the hidden attacker at the other end of the room.
The assassin - knowing the plan had failed and his chances of survival were limited against such a foe came out from behind the bookshelf - dropped his bow and went to his knees, begging for his pathetic life.
Vashina was out of the tub and scanning the room for any other unknown invaders that might decide to show themselves. She turned her attention to the wounded assassin on the ground who was fumbling with a handheld crossbow, trying to direct it at her. A wicked smile crossed her lips and a tiny flame licked the bowstring and snapped it before he could release the small but deadly bolt.
"Please do not kill me!" The assassin cried to Astaroth who was now standing before him in his flaming glory. "I was only doing as I was told!"
The flames dissipated and Astaroth's eyes bore into the assassin's soul. "Tell me why I should spare your life after you tried to kill me, assassin."
"I… I have four children your greatness - they need me. I only do this to feed them!" The assassin stuttered pathetically, his eyes shifting around the room not willing to meet Astaroth's.
"Well I guess they're going to be orphans now!" Astaroth hissed, kicking the man hard in the stomach and doubling him over. "Now enough of your lies, assassin, tell me who sent you and I might actually spare your life … for your children's sake."
The assassin lied. "I do not know, your Greatness. He sent a street urchin with a letter to me and it said that if I killed you, I would be richer than I could imagine in my wildest dreams."
Astaroth turned his head to regard Vashina. The assassin saw the opening and took his final chance, lunging forward with a poison-tipped curved dagger. Astaroth was no fool and was well aware of assassins and their tricks. With reflexes defying the norm he grabbed the assassin's arm and twisted violently to the side, causing the man enough pain to drop the tainted blade. With a look of sheer evil, Astaroth grabbed the man's face with his free hand and began to summon his Gift. Fire wavered in his hand, slowly burning and blistering the assassin's face, head and neck. His screams were muffled but full of anguish - Astaroth did not relent. The assassin's flesh began to melt and peel away from his bones, he kicked and thrashed but it was soon too late and death consumed him. Astaroth released him and let him fall limp to the floor. All that remained of his face was a grotesque, blackened skull.
The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1) Page 38