“I defer that Trendan, a half-elven protégé of my brother, will receive my family’s gift with my full consent and knowledge.”
“We recognize the Great Pryus and his right to defer,” one of the Siladil clerics said.
“Aye!” the rest said in unison.
“So be it,” Shexah said. He put the flames of the torch to the oil-covered wood beneath the pyre. It lit presently.
As the flames began to burn Sanmir’s body, Trendan felt a burning sensation in his legs, then his other extremities began to get hot. He looked at Fayne, and she was attentive. “Something’s happening.”
She tried to take his arm. “No, don’t touch me yet,” he told her. Sudden streaks of sharp pains shot up his legs into his torso. They were painful but nothing he couldn’t handle. As abruptly as they appeared, they were gone. Trendan relaxed. “That wasn’t so bad,” he said.
Fire and red hot needles struck him from the inside out. That’s what it felt like. Trendan doubled over screaming. The fire streaked up his legs and reached his head. His brain felt like it was boiling. He screamed again. When he opened his eyes, all of his friends had ignored the Great Pryus and were standing at the mouth of the tent, but they were still giving him his distance. He was humbled at how much they cared for him. He heard Vesperin say he was going to find a spot to pray for him and he left. Fayne reached for Trendan’s hand, and he took it, involuntarily squeezing it. She shrieked in pain. Trendan let go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you!” He felt drunk, and he didn’t know if he said that out loud or in his head. When he opened his eyes briefly, he saw by the shocked expression on Fayne’s face that he had said it out loud. The pain came again, and again he screamed.
“Do something!” Tatrice said pleadingly.
“There is nothing you can do for him,” Shexah said. “Come away from there. He will be fine once the pyre burns out.” They didn’t move, so the Great Pryus sent the clerics to gently escort them away to the funeral pyre.
Trendan heard them saying something about it was bad luck to watch the transformation and that’s why the room of seclusion was there as they were leading his friends away.
“You love me?” Fayne asked when the others were away.
Trendan couldn’t keep his usual safeguards up in his mind. The pain and the gift were taking all his efforts. “I do,” he said. “I would have thought you could have seen it.”
“Oh, my goddess Loracia, tell me what to do!” she said. “I love you too, Trendan. I always have, but I must be with Vesperin until my goddess releases me.”
“I have never understood that,” he said. “Why must you be with Vesperin? Why!”
Fayne didn’t answer. She just stared at him with big, round, beautiful greenish-blue eyes. Tears began to pour from them and Trendan wanted to comfort her, but another round of pain wracked his body and he went to the ground.
Fayne knelt by his side and put her arm on his back. “The fire is fading,” Fayne whispered in his ear. “It will all be over soon.”
Chapter 17: Ardenia
Dorenn could have sworn he had been under Deylia’s gaze most of the trip from Highpond, across the border to Ardenia, and onward to Ardmore, a medium-sized coastal fishing town not far north of the aforementioned Ardenian border. She was sly and would look away whenever their eyes met, and Dorenn often thought it was quite possible she knew nothing of his secret, but it was also quite possible that she did. He resolved he would have to keep an eye on the situation.
It was Morgoran who suggested they stay the night in Ardmore, even though the capital city of Asperden was only about fifty leagues to the northeast, because he wanted to prepare Dorenn for his reunion with his parents on what he should and shouldn’t tell them about what had happened since he left them at the inn in Brookhaven all that time ago. Dorenn wasn’t sure why Morgoran was insistent on the restrictions, but he had learned to comply with Morgoran’s wisdom. Also, Morgoran, Ianthill, and Enowene had devised an ingenious use of the old Migarath Portals as information hubs. Enowene had coordinated her system of spies to use the portals to get information from one place to another much more quickly than ever before, and the news quickly reaching Morgoran’s ears was not at all good news. The news from Asperden had recently ceased, and the last report Morgoran had received spoke of treasonous activities and possibly the unseating of the new, inexperienced king. Dorenn knew his father, and he chose to believe the old innkeeper would uncover and crush such foolishness as easily as he would have managed dissention in his kitchen at the inn. His father was not unfamiliar with plots, politics, and human nature.
An hour after noon, Morgoran procured them all rooms at the Fish and Favor Inn, apparently Lady Shey’s choice of the three inns of the well-traveled-through town. It was far enough from the main thoroughfare to be private, but close enough to all the shops and particulars to be convenient. Seancey and Rennon saw to the horses while Lady Shey and Deylia went to the common room to see about the midday meal, leaving Dorenn with Morgoran, Ianthill, and of course, Gondrial, who wasted no time finding four tankards of Ardenian stout.
“So, Dorenn, nervous?” Morgoran asked as he grasped the handle of his tankard.
“A tad. But I’m sure my parents are the same as I left them. I don’t see anything changing Lourn and Dellah Adair, not even a change in social stature.”
“I can drink to that,” Gondrial said, taking a long pull on his ale.
“You can drink to anything,” Ianthill pointed out.
“True enough,” Gondrial replied.
“I’m glad to see you all in good spirits for a change,” Dorenn said, also taking a sip from his tankard.
“Despite the recent run-in with the Scarovian necromancer, Ardenia is far enough north and close enough to the northern mountains to be relatively safe from the cares of the world,” Morgoran said.
“Aye, it’s a nice feeling, even though our business up here isn’t,” Ianthill said.
“Oh, and why isn’t our business pleasant?” Dorenn asked.
“You didn’t tell him why we stopped for the night, did you, Morgoran?” Gondrial asked.
“I did, just not all of it.”
“All right. Now is your chance. I’m all ears,” Dorenn said before he took a long hard pull on his ale, hoping it might soften the blow of what was surely to be rough news coming.
“We need to prevail to your kingly father to start rallying troops, and not from just Ardenia but from Sythia and Adracoria as well.”
“You think my father can reunite Trigothia?”
“With our help, I think it’s possible. We need a new army, with the old one still missing, and it can only come from Trigothia,” Morgoran pointed out. “We cannot fight Kambor ourselves no matter how powerful your newfound dragon magic is. That Scarovian necromancer was only one of many to come. I have been receiving word that the armies of Abaddonia and Scarovia, which have been camped out at the Symborian borders all this time, have finally begun moving toward the Sacred Land.”
Dorenn was confused. “I thought Naneden used those armies when he marched through Symboria last season.”
Ianthill took a swig of ale and wiped his mouth on his robe sleeve. “Not at all. He used a much smaller force. The main armies couldn’t get though the mountain passes at the time, with the winter weather, and the armies of the West and North were still around at that time, if I remember right. Naneden used the spell to move them around that time, anyway.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask. What about the armies of the West and North. Where are they? Can they still be used to fight?”
Morgoran shook his head. “Sylvalora and I found them last season, but they are in Denosia, across the eastern seas. Word is they have not been received well there and have been locked in battle. The last word I received said they had sacked a coastal city and a small shipyard. Unless we can persuade the dragons to go and get them, they will be several seasons from coming home.”
“Can we get
the dragons to go get them?” Dorenn asked.
“We can try, but I doubt it. King Amarantus has adopted a very hands-off policy since we last spoke to him.” Morgoran lowered his head. “And he’s fighting his own battle. It seems Kambor is pilfering his young to bolster his Dramyd and Drasmyd Duil population.”
“What!” Dorenn almost spewed his ale. “How many?”
“It will be some time before he can produce enough of them to be a threat. Don’t worry. I think we will make our move long before then, and King Amarantus is on top of it, as I said.”
Dorenn nodded. “All right. What else?”
Ianthill shifted uncomfortably. “There are some scattered reports of something else stirring in the Sacred Land. We aren’t sure what it is yet, but it appears something is disturbing the old battlegrounds and rousing the dead there. Spectres and restless spirits are stirring in larger numbers than we have seen over the past season. And, well, you saw firsthand the procession of dead traveling eerily fast across Sythia.”
Dorenn shuddered. “Do we know what is behind it? More necromancers? Scarovians?”
“As I stated, we aren’t sure what,” Ianthill repeated. “Scarovians are unlikely except for a scattered few. The necromancer we saw in Sythia was probably helping the undead along. I would speculate the Sacred Land is the destination.”
“The Sacred Land? Is Kambor raising an undead army to fight alongside his Dramyd and Drasmyd Duil army?” Dorenn asked. “Is that even possible?”
Morgoran looked grim as he took a long drink. “Let us hope not.”
Lady Shey, Deylia, and two servant girls began to bring in trays of ham, cheese, and loaves of bread. Seancey and Rennon appeared as if on cue, and found seats at the table.
“I’m starving!” Seancey said, reaching for a large slab of ham. “What are we all talking about?” He looked around the table. “And where’s my tankard?”
“Go get it yourself,” Gondrial stated. “You know where the barkeep is.”
“Don’t get cheeky with me, outlander.”
“Outlander? You are just as much an outlander here as I.”
“Aye, but I’m much better lookin’ and much bigger than you. You’re just a scrawny thing.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Gondrial said with a smile.
“You’re both idiots. Now eat,” Shey said.
Seancey unceremoniously slapped his sister on the backside as she was cutting a slice of bread, and went to the bar for a tankard.
“I really wish he wouldn’t do that!” Shey said. “It’s hardly appropriate.”
Morgoran and Ianthill took a plate of food each and got up from the table. “Ianthill and I have something to discuss,” Morgoran said. “Also, we are expecting a visitor tonight sometime, so we will be back down shortly.”
“A visitor?” Rennon asked. “Who would meet them out here?”
“Who knows? It’s Morgoran and Ianthill you are talking about,” Gondrial said.
As they were quietly eating, the staff of the common room began to filter out until no one but Dorenn and his party was left in the room. Dorenn thought it was strange, but he didn’t stop eating, nor did anyone, for that matter. Finally, the common room door to the outside opened and a ragged-looking stranger entered the previously empty, except for Dorenn and his friends, common room. He appeared as if he had been on the road for quite some time. His clothes were dirty and dusty. His face and hair were both covered with dirt and muddy sweat. He stumbled in another step, and Seancey deftly leaped from his seat to catch the man mid-fall.
The man looked up at Seancey’s face. “Thank you, stranger.”
Seancey nodded and helped the man find a seat. Lady Shey slapped some ham and cheese on a piece of bread and handed it to the man. “Thank you, kind lady. Might I trouble someone for a tankard?”
Lady Shey frowned at that request, but complied.
After he had drunk some of the ale and eaten some of the food, he looked up at each of their faces. “I understand one called Dorenn Adair might be staying here.”
Seancey reacted first by taking the man by the collar of his tunic and raising him up into the air. “How did you come by this information?”
The man seemed too surprised by the quickness of Lady Shey’s brother to reply. Dorenn suddenly felt the pressure of Seancey’s persuasive power invade his mind, and the already big man seemed to grow impossibly big.
“Where did you learn of Dorenn?” he repeated. The common room began to creak and sway under Seancey’s influence.
“I . . . I am the warder of King Lourn the First. I have come to warn the prince on the king’s behest. The corrupted court of Asperden has eyes on him, and they know exactly where he is and with whom he travels. I will likely be killed at any moment just for seeking him out.”
“What is the warning? Quickly now, before you force me to kill you,” Seancey said.
“Seancey!” Shey scolded.
The man seemed even more nervous now that Seancey had driven the threat of his imminent death home to him. “Please, sir, I don’t want to die.”
“Quickly, then.”
“King Lourn still sits on the throne, but he is aware of two corrupt lords, men of influence in Ardenia.”
“Who are these men?” Seancey asked.
“The Earl of Ascene, Martan Thornhold, and Baron Tobias Hatch of Ironcrest.”
Seancey looked to Dorenn, who nodded. Seancey let the man down, and he resumed his previous stature. The man was still shaken but soon recovered when Dorenn directed him to resume eating his food with a gesture of his hand.
“What does any of this have to do with Dorenn?” Shey asked the man.
“They plan to overthrow the king and kill the prince. No one wants Lourn, a simple innkeeper, on the throne of Ardenia.” The man took another bite. “The remainder of the message from the king is only for the ears of the prince. King’s orders.”
“I’m certain the king won’t mind,” Gondrial said. “This is as close to Dorenn as we will let you get, I’m afraid.”
“He is correct, friend. There is no way I am leaving you alone with Dorenn or letting you close enough to whisper into his ear. You may as well be out with the message,” Seancey said.
The man wiped his mouth with the cloth next to his plate. “In that case”—the man grabbed ahold of Seancey’s hand, and he froze in place—“I will have to take more drastic action.”
Dorenn had Dranmalin before him in an instant. The man stood up and gingerly drew a dagger from beneath his clothes.
“Who are you really?” Rennon asked.
“I am the warder of King Lourn, as I have already said.” He readied his dagger and assumed a fighting stance.
Dorenn tried to draw essence, but none came. “I can’t draw essence!” he blurted out.
“Stop trying!” Gondrial snapped. “You are drawing it, but he is stealing it.” He leaped across the table with his sword drawn. “You can only defeat one of these with steel.”
“One of what?” Dorenn said.
“He’s a dark wielder. Aren’t you, friend?”
“I’m impressed,” the man said. “My name is Kothos. A man should know the name of the man who kills him, don’t you think?”
“No,” Gondrial said. “No, not at all. In fact, it kind of peeves me that you told me yours!”
Lady Shey produced her daggers and attacked.
The dark wielder knocked Gondrial’s attack away and avoided Shey’s daggers. Dorenn let Dranmalin engulf in flame.
“No, don’t let it do that!” Gondrial said. “He can use that power too. He syphons anything that uses essence.”
“I grow wary of your warnings,” the dark wielder said.
“What the thunder is a dark wielder?” Rennon asked, perturbed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“They haven’t been around since the War of the Oracle, at least, not out in the open. They usually stay to the shadows and do not meddle in the affairs of
others unless it suits them in some way,” Lady Shey said.
“Who sent you?” Dorenn asked. “Surely not my father.”
“I sent myself. I wanted to get a look at you,” Kothos said.
“Not likely,” Gondrial said.
“All right, you got me. I hope you wrote down those names I gave you, for they are the ones who sent me. I didn’t lie about them.” He stroked Seancey’s nose with his forefinger mockingly as he walked around him. Seancey struggled even harder to free himself. “I know, I know. If it was they who hired me, then why am I giving them away to you? I am giving them away to you for personal reasons. They have forced me to come here. I find it immensely stupid to blackmail a sorcerer and then expect him to be loyal and keep secrets.”
“What are you yammering on about?” Morgoran said as he and Ianthill entered the room from the stairs.
Ianthill was looking around the room. “Where have all the staff gone?”
“I dismissed them,” Kothos said, “before I came in.”
Morgoran went around the table, staring at Shey’s daggers and Gondrial’s sword with amusement. “Why must you put yourself in these situations, Kothos. Does it prove something to you? Are you testing our strengths?”
Kothos put his dagger away. “If I were testing your strengths, I would say you have all failed.”
“Dorenn Adair, I would like to introduce you to Kothos, warder of the king of Ardenia and sometimes the man-of-arms at your father’s court.”
“All the time,” he corrected.
“Are you going to let Seancey go?” Ianthill asked.
Kothos looked at the big man. “Nah, not for a minute or two.”
“Kothos,” Morgoran cautioned.
“Oh, very well.” He touched Seancey, and he was released.
Seancey attacked using his intimidation and his sword. Kothos blocked each blow with nothing but a dagger and was not intimidated at all. In fact, he almost appeared bored. Seancey finally wore himself out, and Kothos bowed to him as he sat down.
Lady Shey studied Kothos for a long moment. “He is indeed a dark wielder, Master. Why is he here?”
Battlefield of the Sacred Land Page 14