The Vlakan King (Book 3)

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The Vlakan King (Book 3) Page 2

by Jim Greenfield


  "Evening Davan."

  "Evening Master Grent. Working past dinner again?"

  "Well you know it as well as me, Davan. We have to keep up with business. If I don't keep my commitments I will lose customers. This one needs to be completed in three days and it will be close. What are you doing walking around? The inn looked busy earlier."

  "It was very busy. I like to walk and think before I go to bed. It's not often I actually can, but today I have the opportunity."

  "Good idea to sort out the day's activities at the day's end. Some wouldn't say so but I think contemplation is an important part of life. Many people don't see what's beyond the end of their nose, but the world is a wide place Davan, and stranger than you know. Different people, animals, weather, you name it. Every day you can see something new. Well, I can't chat anymore although I enjoy exercising my jaw. This boat won't get done by itself."

  "Good evening, Master Grent."

  "Evening, Davan."

  Davan walked back to the inn. It would soon be time to cleanup for the day.

  A customer called for more ale and Ian went back to work. Loric watched Davan work in the dining room. He was surprised to feel affection for the boy. Loric had no children of his own and he passed that stage of life many generations ago so the sudden longing for a child unnerved him. Perhaps he had been wounded in the fight with the assassin. Sometimes an injury made him contemplative. He returned to his room and checked for wounds but found none he hadn't already treated. He packed his belongings and set his pack on the table.

  The years passed so quickly. Now the Celaeri were moving again. Loric believed they had pushed them down so far that Ian could live out his life without Celaeri trouble again. Loric shook his head. He was half Celaeri, born over two thousand years earlier and a sentinel against the return of the warrior race. The Celaeri would not give up their grasp of this world no matter how slight it might be. Few in number and crippled as a military force still they chip away at the barriers refusing them entry to the daylight world.

  Loric sat on his bed sharpening a dagger when he heard the tread of Davan in the hallway. The boy was finished with his evening chores and finally getting a chance to relax. Loric opened the door suddenly and Davan started.

  "Davan, I'd like to speak to you."

  "Sure. I hear you're leaving tomorrow. Kind of short notice?"

  "Yes it is. Something has come up that I must attend to. I wanted to say a few things to you. You're growing up quickly. I still see you as a babe in your mother's arms. But you are not, not by a long shot. I probably should have spoken with you before, but I think today will suit just fine."

  Davan sat on the worn bench across from the bed. Loric closed the door and sat on the bed. He looked at Davan for a few minutes weighing his thoughts.

  "What do you know of me?"

  "You're my uncle."

  "Yes, besides that. Have you ever wondered about my bluish skin, copper eyes? My height?"

  "Well, you're from another part of Anavar."

  "Davan, I know you are not stupid. Your father is not my brother. Have you been getting into the brandy under the counter? Pay attention. I need you to understand the situation. The body you saw buried today was of a Vlakan. A creature of darkness molded from a Celaeri. Have you heard of the Celaeri?"

  "Just stories. A dead race."

  "They aren't dead. I am half Celaeri, half Man. My father was a Man. I am not your uncle, but we are related. There is Celaeri blood in your veins too. You may find it difficult to believe but I am many generations your elder. Celaeri are an ancient race and attuned to the god that created them. The Altengud Moruga did not create many Celaeri but he made them powerful. They ruled Cresida and enslaved Men who dwelt in the area. It was only after a long war that the Celaeri were driven from Cresida, fleeing into the shadows of the north. The Celaeri are trying to leave that shadow world they inhabit and return to our world. However, they cannot achieve this unaided. To do this a spell is used that requires blood of Celaeri and Men and if it comes from the same being so much the better. In fact, half-breed blood is best but the Celaeri blood should be very small percentage. So I am not suitable to power this spell successfully, but you and your father are very suitable. Even Tera would be useful to the Celaeri but her identity is unknown to them. The Vlakan was hunting you and Ian. Their queen befriended your father when the Celaeri last tried to regain power. At the time he did not know she was an enemy and he spoke of you. Your father's blood was used to bring the Celaeri back last time. Your parents and the Talos Company led the battles to defeat them. The Celaeri are actively trying to return to the world again. My friends and I thought we had defeated them and so we had temporarily. It would mean war if they grab a foothold in Landermass again. They wish to annihilate Men. Once Men lived alongside them, and then the Celaeri enslaved the Men of Cresida. The other human kingdoms rose in strength and defeated the Celaeri. Their memories are long and their hatred is ceaseless."

  "This is hard to believe; harder still if I hadn't seen the body of that creature. It certainly wasn't human. I've never seen a Daerlan, but I know they are not furry and I've seen Tuors and they are much smaller. It would have been a giant Calyindri but they never leave their lands."

  "It was a Vlakan and you have never seen one of those, else you wouldn't be here now. Your parents would have difficulty with one now after neglecting their swords."

  "My parents? What do you mean?" asked Davan.

  "You know they were mercenaries, how did you think they did their jobs; with knives like the one in the back of the Vlakan? No, Jaele and Ian were sword-masters. They will need that skill again unless I am mistaken."

  "Sword-masters? I can't believe that. Well, maybe Mom. I'm not sure I like you all serious like this. I like it better when you are drinking and pinching the women in the bar."

  "Ha. Me too, Davan, me too."

  "Why are you leaving if we are in danger? You are still a fighter."

  "I must get word to some of my friends," said Loric. "They are skilled in fighting the Celaeri. If the Celaeri sends a large force I may not be enough to protect you. My friends are also difficult to find or I would send the farrier's boy. I must travel fast and hard. I do not trust anyone else to get the message through. There are friends traveling this way and I will let them know to be wary for you. They will be able to defend against one or two Vlakan."

  "Friends? Who are they?"

  "It is better if they remain anonymous. Our enemies might not spot them if you pay my friends no special attention."

  "Mom and Dad know all this?"

  "Yes they do."

  "All this goes on and all I care about is avoiding chores. How did I miss it? You said Vlakan are made from Celaeri? How? Is there a god doing that?"

  "I never should have told you anything, Davan. You will ask so many questions I won't leave before breakfast. I believe there is another god twisting the Celaeri into Vlakan, but it doesn't always work properly. There are refined Vlakan that can walk into any civilized court in Anavar or Amloth and there are others not better than beasts, wild things that hunt all that go on two legs. Both kinds are dangerous. Now you must be wary until I return or I send for you. It might be two months before you hear from me. Be brave."

  "I'm not sure what the difference between a Celaeri and Vlakan is. Your description of a Celaeri makes them a formidable enemy. Why change into Vlakan?"

  "The Vlakan are strange creatures. This transformation is not by the Celaeri god Moruga or by any desire of the Celaeri. The Celaeri do not control the Vlakan and although their purposes are often in concert, some darker power guides the Vlakan. I have not determined the how or why. I am a fighter not a thinker. Perhaps Blackthorne has unraveled the mystery, I don't know. If you see a Celaeri, flee; if you see a Vlakan, flee faster."

  "Blackthorne the Sorcerer? You know him?"

  Loric put his hand on Davan's shoulder and guided the overwhelmed young man to the door of his room.

&
nbsp; "Davan, I am sorry I leave you with so many questions unanswered. In time everything will be made clear but not by me and not tonight. I will be gone before dawn. Goodbye, Davan."

  "Goodbye, Uncle Loric."

  Loric watched the stunned young man walk to his room. He was angry with himself for not preparing better although he never expected the Celaeri to return. He believed the Celaeri queen Ioane Adan had returned to the Shadow world after Kerreth Veralier killed her father in the war. The ageless Ioane admitted defeat and proudly retreated from the battlefield. It had been difficult for the Celaeri to escape the Shadow world that last time and to return again should have been impossible. But Ioane Adan returned against all odds. Again, Loric underestimated his mother.

  Chapter 2

  As their names imply, first came the Altenguds who nurtured Landermass for time unmeasured. They set life in motion and were content to witness the results. The Jungeguds had not the patience of their elders and wished to interact, experience and manipulate Landermass. The Altenguds were displeased but the strength of the Jungeguds was green and only Cothos could withstand them. In time most of the Altenguds were destroyed by the Jungeguds or faded into memory, simple and powerless. The Jungeguds who hungered most for power and control were Agnaran, Menaloch and Galamog. Galamog took a female aspect and the name Natale Galamog, however the malice of her spirit changed her form into something hideous and she sought out the life force of the peoples of Landermass. She settled on Anavar in the country later called Mordyn and waited. Of all the Jungeguds, Galamog had the patience of their elders.

  From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass

  The tunnel grew noticeably colder the further they followed Galamog's steward into the labyrinth of the Mordyn Queen. The air cooled as they descended and a spicy stale still atmosphere greeted them in the lower levels. The precise stone construction gave way to older excavations as if the palace had been built over a vast ancient cavern. Natale Galamog was reputed to be one of the Jungeguds weaving her magic throughout Mordyn creating her kingdom on her terms. Legend named her the Moon Goddess or the Blood Goddess. Few of the Altenguds remained in Landermass and the Jungeguds were not as distant as their elder brethren with their involvement with the peoples of Landermass. The Altenguds retreated to their ivory towers and turned their thought inward while their younger brethren hungered for what the world offered. The mortal races proved useful to advance the desires of the Jungeguds but few gods settled so completely within a mortal civilization as Galamog. The Mordyn people knew no other ruler and her eternal presence brought comfort to their lives. At least to the ones who escaped her notice.

  Lockwell noticed the torches on the walls were fewer and deep shadows clung to the walls and archways. The air was still except for their passing and the smell reminded Lockwell of a tomb. The walls were rough with the chisel marks showing and the floor uneven. The ceiling dipped low in several places causing them to duck their heads. Perhaps it was carved eons ago before such craft was fully developed. Lockwell was a sorcerer of Celaeri descent and stands nearly seven feet tall. He spent much of his life serving the kingdom of Eslenda on Amloth. His companion, Machel Moet, also with Celaeri heritage had the unique pleasure of once being the advisor of Tag Makk, Overlord of the Turucks. The Turucks are an elder race akin to the Celaeri and Daerlan but closer to the Daerlan. Anticipating Tag Makk's defeat in the Eslendian War, Machel decided to search for alternative employment and met up with Lockwell during his travels. Their efforts were instrumental in the last revival of the Celaeri race in Cresida and they escaped the fall of the Celaeri. They were resourceful and kept a strong sense of self-preservation ready at all times.

  "Enter my home," purred a voice seemingly rising from the floor around them.

  "Thank you," said Lockwell. He and Machel entered the dimly lit large room; the two Celaeri soldiers remained outside the room. All the lights were near the entrance; the deepest part of the room was enveloped in darkness. Lockwell thought he could hear movement in the room but he could see nothing except the phantasms of his mind dancing around him. He did however, smell blood, both fresh and stale. He tried to touch his magic just to reassure himself but he did not sense it. His pulsed quickened. He had entered another realm that the outside world could not penetrate.

  "I am Natale Galamog as you know. Welcome to my home. I seldom receive foreign visitors. Who are you?" The voice was not unpleasant but the words seemed shaped oddly like a guttural hum. And there were the sounds of her lips slightly sticking together as she spoke. The sound did not relax them.

  "I am Lockwell, a wizard and servant of Ioane Adan, Queen of the Celaeri. With me is Machel Moet, also a servant of Queen Ioane."

  "Ah, it is well then. I sensed the mark of Moruga upon you both. Moruga reveled in his creation of the Celaeri. I never desired to create. Ah, but I dissemble. You are here in response to my inquiry from the late winter?"

  "Yes, Lady Galamog. Queen Ioane wishes to enter an agreement with you for the resources required for your needs. Machel Moet will lead the Celaeri company that will join your soldiers."

  "Excellent. I require your soldiers to come to Anavar by the end of the moon's cycle. There is a tower west of Toraba in a place called Erast. Do you know it?"

  "The Tower of Erast? It's an accursed place."

  "Yes it is. I knew Erast when he lived and I do not fear his curses. You should not fear them Lockwell for you are a strong wizard. Perhaps Machel Moet should be concerned; however, the danger is small. But be at ease, Celaeri. I am sending a sorcerer named Pashar Bei to command the tower. He is of singular skill and will keep the curses of Erast from bothering you. I will send you to him after our discussion. Speak with Pashar Bei of the details of our agreement; I care little of details. Keep your agreement and I shall be pleased. Deliver to Pashar Bei your Celaeri soldiers for the western front."

  "We shall do so, Lady Galamog. May we be allowed to see you?"

  A throaty chuckle bubbled up from the darkness.

  "Ah, Lockwell, while your question flatters me I do not wish to expend the strength right now to display myself in a form you would appreciate. I favor a slim woman still holding her youth with golden hair with black eyes when I walk among the living. Use your imagination. If you beheld me as I am right now, I do not believe your reaction would be courteous. Thus I spare you the stain of dishonor you would bring to our working arrangement. I'm sure you will understand?"

  "Yes, Lady Galamog. I see the wisdom of your words. We shall go and prepare the completion of our side of the bargain."

  "Lady, may we be dismissed?" asked Machel Moet.

  There was silence.

  "Where is my tribute?"

  "We have brought word from Queen Ioane that..." began Lockwell.

  "Yes, yes. But the agreement must be sealed with tribute. What did you bring?" Her voice was subtly harsher.

  "Nothing Lady Galamog," said Machel Moet.

  "Hmm. I dislike disappointment and you two are necessary to complete my goals. This is distressing. What about the two soldiers beyond my door?" Her voice purred over them and the darkness spread around the room. They could not make out her shape and the sound of movement was everywhere.

  "Do you need them?" Her voice was very close, her spiced breath washed over them. "Are they necessary? Do you need them?"

  "What do you mean?" asked Machel Moet. Lockwell grabbed his arm in warning.

  "No, Lady Galamog," said Lockwell. "We do not need them."

  "Thank you for your tribute."

  The blackness covered the entire room reaching out into the corridor. There was a muffled noise and the sound of something heavy dragged across the stone. They did not move as the sounds enveloped them. The room lightened leaving the interior dark as before.

  "You may go," said a muffled voice. Machel and Lockwell hurried to the door, which shut once they passed through it. The two Celaeri soldiers were gone. A curved Celaeri sword lay on the dirt but they did not pick it up. They hurri
ed back up the passage.

  The steward waited for them on the upper level. He did not comment on their bloodless faces for they had talked with Lady Galamog and lived after all. They deserved the respect of ignoring their fear.

  "I will take you to your rooms where you can refresh. In an hour I will escort you to Pashar Bei's enclave."

  It was all they could do to nod. Their voices had not yet returned to their control. The steward led them through winding corridors and stairs to a large chamber that was bright and warm. Lockwell and Machel each had a private chamber off the main room. They embraced the warmth and tried to shake the grip of Galamog from them.

  Lockwell sat at the table in his quarters refilling his wine goblet when Machel Moet returned from bathing.

  "My hands are still shaking," said Machel.

  "Pour some wine. It is helping my tremors," said Lockwell. "I've had three goblets already and I don't intend to stop until the jug is empty."

  "Galamog.."

  "She is one of the Jungeguds. I have been in the presence of those touched by a god, as you yourself have been."

  "Tag Makk."

  "Exactly. But today was the closest I've been to a god myself."

  "We didn't even see what she looked like."

  "That may have been a good thing," said Lockwell. "She does not seem to be concerned with choosing a form to comfort her followers. I do not think I want to see her true form."

  "Those soldiers did."

  "Your tone implies you do not agree with my choice."

  "You did what was necessary for us to live," said Machel.

  "Exactly. Perhaps Ioane knew what the required tribute would be. We were sent without tribute. If the soldiers were not close by would we be sitting here now? Where does that leave us with the Celaeri?"

 

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