The Vlakan King (Book 3)

by Jim Greenfield

  The Vlakan King

  Jim Greenfield

  COPYRIGHT

  First published in USA

  Copyright © James R. Greenfield

  2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be circulated in writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Greetings

  Be welcomed to this place called Landermass! Breathe in the fresh cool air of Amloth, the warm most air of Breanen, the turbulent air of Anavar and the dry air of Ryammar. These lands comprise the major continents of Landermass and host the majority of the varied peoples of this world. The Altenguds created the first peoples and shepherded the land. Later came the Jungeguds and they kneaded the land to their purposes. The people of Landermass survived, thrived and held their own against the gods. But the Jungeguds never tire of meddling with mortals.

  Thunder Comes (A Lay of the Talos Company)

  Torches flare the distant hills

  Fire flickers in savage eyes

  Deep of night creeps forth

  A wave of dread, doom of hope

  Death lingers in the pastures

  And beneath the boughs of trees

  Dawn comes

  A faint flicker of light stretches from the East

  Light grows with a rumble

  Cries of dismay echo the distant hills

  A chorus of fell voices rises with the sun

  Pounding hooves and booted feet shake the mountains

  A wave rushes to the hills

  A wave of soldiers led by immortals

  Death comes

  Blue skinned demon wings herald deadly spears

  Rain of death from tiny archers

  Dance of swords, unnatural sorcery

  A tusked grimace and a flourish of swords

  Kerreth Veralier brings vengeance to Landermass

  The hills are cleansed once more

  Stillness follows

  Returning whence they came

  Vanishing as the wind

  Chapter 1

  For most of recorded history of Landermass the dominant races have been the Zidar, Daerlan, Celaeri and Men, each one created by a different god and set apart from each other. The Zidar are the eldest race, wise and masters of magic; the Daerlan are the masters of nature, attuned to the nuances of Landermass; the Men are the most populous, without the magic of the other races but with the potential to be far more destructive; and the Celaeri, a jealous and vindictive people banished to the darkness eons ago. Yet the Celaeri ever strive to break free from the shadow world where they dwell and return eastern Amloth to their control again. There is a creature that is associated with the Celaeri called the Vlakan, a huge cat-wolf mix that legends claims are the souls of the Celaeri. When they return to the land blood will flow.

  From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass

  Late summer brought cooling night breezes to Peradon but also the silent tread of a Vlakan following a particular aroma of blood. The spicy scent gave speed to the feline beast's journey and blinded it to all else. It had traveled from its home, crossing the sea to Anavar to hunt down an individual with a unique blood scent; and it had found its quarry. The Vlakan could walk upright like a man or run on all fours like a beast. Most were comparable in size to a large man but stories told of larger creatures. They preferred shadows and darkness but were unafraid to endure sunlight. They lived in northern Cresida on the continent of Amloth but their origins were unknown. The ancient race called Celaeri used them as servants it was said, but the reputed refinement of the Celaeri would not have required domestic services from the Vlakan. The Vlakan were killers, pure and simple.

  The town was small and closely surrounded by trees that allowed the Vlakan to come within reach of its prey. It was not an overly clever creature and focused only on the task at hand. A smarter assassin might have succeeded. For two days it watched the building with people coming and going and the man came out a few times but always went back in. The distance to the building wasn't great but it was all in the open; the Vlakan was cautious. One afternoon the man came out and walked a bit to stretch his legs. This was the moment the Vlakan waited for and moved from its concealment. The man walked around the near side of the building and the Vlakan moved forward in pursuit. It felt the boy's knife in its back before it knew it wasn't alone. It fell heavily onto the dry grass and lay still. Pale blue hands grabbed the wrists and began dragging the body.

  Peradon lies on the north coast of the continent of Anavar just before the eastern land flows northward toward its sister continent Amloth. Long a town of fishermen and some craftsmen its chief export were the mercenaries of the Red Boars Company. The Red Boars had existed in Peradon for several hundred years and were part of the town. They provided protection at a cheap price; peace and quiet. No one bothered the Red Boars and usually the mercenaries were well behaved. Besides the inn on the east road had the mark of the Talos Company upon it and the Red Boars did not stir up trouble they could not handle. The proprietors were once members of the Red Boars but had relatives in the Talos Company and the protection of the elder company extended to kin. The inn served good food and better ale and had so for the last fifteen years.

  Davan watched his uncle drag the dark figure between the buildings toward the hot forge of the town blacksmith. The heels dug a trail from the thicket beyond the inn to the forge, the left heel trail slighter deeper. Davan's father brushed the dirt with a branch to conceal the tracks. Davan's heart pounded. He looked around to see if anyone else on the street had noticed his uncle but sitting up in the tree his view blocked to the west where the main part of town stood. Still, the town of Peradon was quiet and even the mongrel dog at the stable was silent for a change. Perhaps even the dog felt the unfamiliar tremors in the air. The entire evening had felt different somehow; Davan didn't know how to describe it in words. There was a tension or anticipation or something. The sounds of the birds didn't seem normal and the hairs on the back on his neck vibrated and the shivers ran down his leg. Early in the evening, he tried to tell his father his thoughts but that conversation resulted in another errand to run. He tried to tell Loric but his uncle hurried away as if he had an appointment to keep. It was hard being sixteen; no longer a child but not an adult in his parent's eyes. He had no choices in his life yet and his words were feather weighted; twisting in the breezes of conversation but never settling on the minds of anyone else. He was barely more than the cook and maids, and at times, he helped them with their work. Everyone ordered him about and he resented it. He began to hate the inn his parents owned. If his father had not begun to allow Davan to tend the bar a few times each week his life
would have been unbearable. Surely, no one else was treated this poorly. Why were his parents so cruel? Couldn't they see he was growing up? He knew he needed to leave Peradon to find his own way, his friend Docaw had left two years ago, but Davan hadn't thought about his own destination. His parents were in their prime and would keep running the inn for years; he wasn't needed to take over yet. Perhaps he could get an apprenticeship or even join the mercenary group that was based in Peradon. Both his parents had been members at one time; why couldn't Davan join? He was as tall as his father but fairer of hair and his skin was a shade darker without the hint of blue. When Loric was around one didn't notice the blue in his father's skin in comparison but it was there. It was a cool paleness instead of the warm paleness of his auburn haired mother's skin. Still Davan was paler than the other kids of Peradon. His shoulders were broad and he would be called 'rangy' but the work of the inn made his hands and forearms very strong. His eyes were pale green and the girls of Peradon noticed.

  Davan's attention focused again; he heard his uncle talking to someone but the words did not drift up to him clearly. What had they done? Murder? There was something strange about the body. His father would have a good reason he knew, but what if Loric had killed the person? Often Loric was smiling and relaxed but there were times when his eyes went cold and Davan felt Loric was not human.

  Davan knew his uncle was different from most men in town and not just from his height and unique skin color alone; his uncle told him the most unusual stories of faraway places and strange creatures. It seemed Loric had traveled the entire world; the continents of Anavar and Amloth, the Isle of Cothos and as far as the southern continent of Breanen whose land hadn't even been fully mapped yet. Davan's parents wouldn't shoo him away when Uncle Loric told his stories unlike the risqué tales told around the fireplace by the mercenaries when they came for ale. Loric held the respect of Davan's parents. Davan believed in the tales and hoped his uncle would take him on an adventure one day. But now he was worried about his uncle. He had a good view now of the forge but he couldn't see the features of the body. But he recognized something.

  The furry corpse Loric rolled into the pit behind the blacksmith's shop had one of Davan's knives stuck in its back. He recognized the carved handle that he had proudly shown his uncle the day prior. It wasn't one of his favorite knives, but that wasn't the point. Why wouldn't his uncle at least retrieve the knife and clean it up? Knives cost money and a kid couldn't make a homemade one that kept an edge. Knives were essential to living; besides, his father had given it to him. Uncle Loric knew Davan would miss it. What would be the story for its disappearance? And what kind of creature was in the pit? Man-like certainly, but what was it? The blacksmith poured some white powder down in the pit and Davan's father and uncle shoveled the dirt over the body. His uncle looked all around the area searching for anyone watching but Davan was up in the oak tree shielded by the leaves. The strange feeling that nagged at Davan earlier had vanished.

  If Uncle Loric had secrets that he would only tell Davan's father, well then Davan would spend all his considerable energy to uncover them. His mother called out from the doorway of the inn. Her sudden shout startled Davan and he nearly lost his grip. He held tight and hoped his heart would stop pounding. She hadn't seen him so he waited until she went back inside to climb down. He trotted inside brushing dirt from his clothes.

  "There you are!" said Jaele Greyrawk, his mother, a tall woman still holding her fine features and curves that first attracted her husband to her. But there was steel in her voice and Davan did not know where she got that. "I need more tankards washed right quick."

  Davan learned years ago not to argue with his mother about chores. He didn't even stop to ask innocently where his father and uncle were. He expected she'd box his ears for that. He hustled into the kitchen squeezing past the cook to the large buckets of soapy water and got to work. His younger sister Tara brought in more dirty dishes. She was gangly as a ten year old could be and her freckled face was framed by auburn hair, darker than her mother's hair. Tara stuck her tongue out at Davan and went back into the front room.

  By the time his hands were red and tender he heard Uncle Loric's voice near the bar. He peaked out and saw his uncle drinking and his father working behind the bar. The regulars sat at the tables repeating stories they've told for years. There was the stale smell of tobacco creeping around the edges of the room. Davan glided out of the kitchen, looking to avoid his mother and more chores.

  "Davan," said Loric. "Come over here a moment." His uncle rubbed the top of Davan's head. Although Davan had nearly matched his father in height Loric stood another half foot taller. His skin was pale almost bluish, his eyes copper, and his dark hair a bluish black. When Loric stared into his eyes Davan felt his uncle was peeling back all his layers. His father walked over to them.

  "Where were you?" asked Ian Greyrawk.

  "Washing dishes."

  "Before that. An hour ago. I didn't see you in the inn."

  "Just out back tossing rocks. I had to get outside for a while."

  Ian glanced at Loric and went back to his work. Loric still stared into Davan's eyes.

  Loric leaned forward and spoke too softly for Ian to hear.

  "Been climbing trees I see," said Loric. "I guess you can probably can see everything that happens in town from there."

  Davan stuttered, not sure what to say. Loric winked at him.

  "I'll come to your room before you retire for the night. I have something to tell you that you should know."

  Davan just nodded and walked into the dining room.

  "What was that about?" asked Greyrawk.

  "Just a few words of wisdom before I leave tomorrow," said Loric.

  "Can't stay any longer?"

  "No. That encounter this evening proves it. Ioane is still hunting for you. It has been a year and a half since the Celaeri War and they are moving again. I need to head east and see if any more assassins are tracking in this direction. You might start working with your sword again. Jaele too. It might be necessary to train the boy."

  "Loric, I appreciate your concern but.."

  "Ian you must defer to me on this. I have far more experience than you and I have seen the warning signs. There is no doubt your lives are in danger. Ioane will avoid the mistakes that tripped Jerue's plans. She will account for the Talos Company somehow and what she may do concerns me greatly. The hunt is on for you and I must find a way to deter the hunters. I assume you are happy with this life?"

  "Yes. Especially with Davan and Tara growing up and now with little Aravan. This inn is more of a home than I could have imagined. Starting the inn was the best decision we ever made. Ever since we returned from Cresida this has been our world. We don't even speak of what happened there. Davan was told we were attending a funeral for a relative of mine. Jaele will fight to the death for this place."

  "I remember how she fights and I was glad her sword was on my side. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. However you and Jaele best be ready. We were fortunate that I was here to intercept the assassin before he got to the inn despite the sentinels watching the roads. The Vlakan was strong and extremely quick. Tera or Davan might have been killed. We have a chance to increase our watchfulness without cost. They cannot take us unaware now."

  "Did Davan see you with the Vlakan? Is that what you are going to talk to him about?"

  "He saw it but only after it was dead. He needs to be told what he saw. Also he must understand the danger and I will be truthful about myself."

  "Is he ready for that?"

  "I think so. He is very inquisitive and if the curse of the Celaeri manifests in him it would be better if he knew what it was. Ignorance can kill him."

  "I wish I was as confident."

  "Let me worry about what goes on outside Peradon. You just keep this inn running and start sparring with Davan and Jaele. Your past occupation is not unknown in town?"

  "No, of course not. We lived here many years as part
of the Red Boars Company before starting the inn. The mercenaries are based here. No one would be surprised to see Jaele handle a sword. Especially if they've seen her running the inn."

  "Good. I will send messages to Kerreth. He will spread the word to the Talos Company and those who wander. Within a fortnight there will be more watchers in the woods around this town. Nothing will enter or leave without our knowledge."

  After the dining room began to clear out, Davan walked outside to think. Loric knew he had seen them with the body and wanted to talk to him. Perhaps there was a logical explanation that needed them to avoid the sheriff. But what would that be unless it was murder? Was Loric a murderer? His stories are exciting but Davan always believed Loric was on the side of good in the tales. He never considered Loric being a criminal. Still, the unusual appearance of the body led Davan to believe it was something the sheriff might not understand. Loric did look different from most people. Very tall and his skin had a bluish tint almost as if he was out in freezing weather. And his eyes, whose color Davan always considered light brown was in fact copper-colored. Where was Loric from anyway? Davan's father had little of Loric's coloring although many features were similar. He decided that Loric was not his uncle, not in the usual sense. Although their features made them relatives he didn't believe Loric was his father's brother. Thinking further on it, if any of Loric's tales were true they would fill a life longer than a 50 year old man had lived. Even giving Loric 60 years would be too little and he looked too young for sixty. In fact, Loric looked younger than his father did. He was thinking himself in circles.

  Davan decided to walk through the town past the butcher shop, bakery to the boat builder who was hard at work despite the failing light. Peradon was not a prosperous town. The shoreline was very shallow allowing only small boats to reach the shore. While the merchant ships bypassed Peradon the fishermen dotted the bay in early morning. The boat maker had a very steady business and had two apprentices. Grent was inspecting the sealing work on the latest boat and looked up when he saw Davan.