Aurec stood under the vine-crusted archway with bowed head as the high priest waved a freshly cut sage branch over each shoulder and the crown of Aurec’s head. The prince fought back the urge to cry, so powerful was the moment. He’d never thought the day would come. Pride, elation, and bitter disappointment clashed in his mind, nearly rendering him down to a mass of quivering flesh. His thoughts were focused on his late father, the king. Only, I’m the king now. Rogscroft has been given to me, to protect and restore. I pray I am up to the task. Father, guide my hands.
With a nod, the priest bade Aurec kneel. The recently laid wood paneling was cool to his knee. A slight breeze tickled his face. He closed his eyes, locked in furious debate over whether he possessed the merits necessary to be a proper king. He just didn’t know and that frightened him to no ends. So many had perished due to the fatal combination of his lack of leadership and the wicked depredations of the Goblins. Worse, he felt alone. No allies had heeded the call for aid. Cuul Ol and his Pell warriors did their best, but they were never many and lacked the training and discipline of a proper army.
A simple diadem was placed on his head. No jewels or gold. Wrought iron hammered and tempered into a practical thing would be the crown of Rogscroft, at least until the time came when the king could rightfully sit upon his throne again. Aurec insisted. The real crown was lost, more likely destroyed when Badron assumed control. That was well and fine. He didn’t feel he deserved such richness in these dark times. A warrior king was needed if the kingdom was to have a future. Aurec must become that king or fall into the obscurity of history.
The priest raised his hands to the skies and tipped back his head. “In the name of the gods of light I now proclaim Aurec, son of Stelskor, king of Rogscroft. May his reign be lengthy and his decisions wise. Rise, my liege.”
Aurec was so engrossed in his thoughts he almost failed to hear the command. Sniffing back the tears, he rose and turned to face those assembled. My people. His knees trembled despite having grown up in the court. This was different. Nothing he had seen or done could have prepared him for what must come next.
Cheers erupted, spreading through the hundreds and hundreds of spectators. Soldiers slammed their swords on shields or stamped their boots. Men and women chanted his name in reverence. They bore no doubts that Aurec was now their king. Select children ran up to Aurec with bouquets of flowers. Trumpets blared, announcing to the heavens that Rogscroft had a new lord. For the moment all thoughts and memories of the war were replaced by unfiltered joy.
Aurec let them have their moment, for it was as much for his subjects as for himself. The cheering continued for many minutes before finally quieting down. It was time for the king to speak. He’d rehearsed this speech a thousand times, knew exactly what he wanted to say, the message he needed to convey. Here, now as he looked out into the sea of expectant faces, all of those carefully prepared words fled. He cleared his throat and spoke from his heart instead.
“My father helped make this kingdom, our kingdom, strong. He gave us a developed economy, a good army, and the ability to live our lives in freedom and prosperity. He gave each and every one of us the option of being good people.” He paused to look into as many eyes as possible as he scanned from left to right. “I have none of that. We are at the edge of breaking, balancing against the dim tide of despair. But we are not broken yet! Our hearts beat strong in defeat. I look into your eyes and see the very same pride that fills my heart. You give me hope. Strength. You give me the will to carry on in the hopes that we can once again build Rogscroft to a place of prominence.”
More cheers. He flushed with embarrassment. Never before had anyone so cheered his name or his words.
Aurec held up a hand for silence and continued. “Today begins a new era. Already our soldiers are taking the war back to the enemy. They fight not for me but for you. You are the heart of our kingdom. Without you I am nothing but a fool with a crown. I cannot promise you victory, only my sincerest pledge to keep fighting until the last beat of my heart. For you and for Rogscroft!”
Drums pleated a steady rhythm, echoing across Grunmarrow with pride, fury, and excitement. Aurec walked back through the throngs, shaking hands and offering praise while accepting it from more than he’d imagined. He was beyond exhausted by the time he managed to worm his way to the feasting pavilion. Cups of wine, confiscated from Wolfsreik supply convoys, filled every hand. He greedily accepted one and drank deep. The taste was bitter and from a berry he wasn’t familiar with but he drank it anyway.
Attendants began establishing the receiving line, for it was the king’s duty to welcome all of his invited guests before the feast could begin. Normally this was done in the finest attire with a small orchestra playing in the background. Grunmarrow offered no such luxuries. Most came dressed in their field uniforms or with whatever had the least amount of stains. While the final preparations were being made, Aurec took the time to seek out his most important guest. He found the Pell chieftain sitting alone beside an empty fountain.
“I cannot thank you enough for coming down from your mountains,” Aurec began.
Cuul Ol smiled. “It is an honor, young king.”
Aurec snorted. “King. I doubt I will ever get used to the title. It wasn’t that long ago that I was an impetuous boy intent on bringing our two peoples together.”
“It wasn’t long ago we held no desire to interact with your kind. Such strange times we live in.”
“Unfortunate times,” Aurec added.
The Pell shrugged. “We do not get to choose the time we live in, Aurec. The old gods will use us as they will. Who are we to argue?”
“You are a wise man, Cuul. I could use more like you at my council. I feel overwhelmed. Like this task is above me,” Aurec confided. “I know I can do the job, but not sure if I can do it well. These people are on the edge. All it will take is a small breeze and they are lost. This isn’t how I imagined my reign would begin.”
Cuul surprised him by laughing. “No good leader is born from softness. Trials and hardships are necessary. You have been bled many times since autumn and you do not break. You bend, like any tree in a strong gale, but your roots are deep. I think you will endure this storm. There will be light again.”
“Light or dark I can’t see a way out of the war without much more bloodshed,” Aurec replied. “My offer stands, Cuul Ol. Will you join my council? I need more warriors to plan an effective strategy against Delranan.”
The Pell sighed and sat on a cold stone bench. “You ask much. The Pell Darga would be without a leader in these dark times. How can I abandon my people now?”
“I’m not asking you to. What I need is your advice and knowledge,” the king replied quickly to alleviate any misunderstanding. “I can’t remain in Grunmarrow. The war is progressing again and I need to be able to control it from the field.”
“You seek to be a warrior king? Some would call that reckless.”
Aurec held out his hands. “What choice have I? The enemy holds all of the advantages. They need to be taught fear.”
“Fear is very powerful,” Cuul agreed. “The wolf soldiers use fear very well. Perhaps not as well as the foul grugk. The grey skins are like a plague upon us.”
“Cuul, we can beat them. Turn their fear back on them and drive them from our lands,” Aurec insisted. “Imagine a day when the Pell Darga can live in the lowlands without fear of persecution. Our two communities can grow as one; rebuild Rogscroft in the image of our forefathers.”
“We Pell have no use for living down here. The mountains are our home. It doesn’t feel right this low,” he finished with a chuckle. “I will think on your idea, young king. Important decisions should not be made lightly.”
“I expect nothing less,” Aurec said. “Now I believe the time has come to feast and celebrate my coronation.”
They shared a soft laugh and entered the pavilion with rumbling stomachs.
*****
Dark mists swirled, filling the
ancient stone chamber and clouding the vision. The mists soothed Amar Kit’han, reminding him of the days of the turning. He hadn’t started out evil. The lure of power and an uncontrollable desire to be more than himself led Amar down the paths of corruption. The Dae’shan fell from grace and became servants of the foul powers. In the process they lost their physical forms. Hatred consumed what remained of their souls, twisting them into wretched creatures whose only enjoyment came from the suffering of others.
“What are we to do?” Kodan Bak snarled from the shadows.
Amar titled his head back, allowing the mists into his robes. Their cool embrace helped him relax. “Continue as the dark gods decree. Who are you to defy their will?”
“Their will or yours?”
“Ever you seek to replace me and claim the mantle of leadership. Have you learned nothing from your time among us? I am merely an instrument. Should the dark gods wish me replaced then I will step aside. But not until that time. You have neither the ability nor the intellect to succeed me, Kodan Bak.”
A great knot of shadows swirled together tightly. Raw power built across the chamber. Ancient evil threatened to rip free of mortal constraints. Amar welcomed the assault, so sure of his dominance.
“Yessss, use your pathetic magic and strike me down. You have wished for this moment for so very long,” he taunted.
Kodan Bak hesitated, suddenly unsure of the game being played. His hands trembled from the massive amount of power waiting to be unleashed. They’d been adversaries for centuries, old enemies sworn to serve the same masters. Their forced companionship did little to assuage their contempt. Kodan Bak knew he was made to lead. Why couldn’t the gods see it? Why must he languish under the misguided rule of a lesser being? There were no answers in any tongue capable of making sense. Of late, his every thought turned towards assassinating Amar Kit’han and claiming dominance of the Dae’shan.
Reluctantly, he released the power back into the ether. A time was coming. He would abide for now. “No. Too much needs to be done if we are to have the paths open for the gods’ return.”
“Indeed,” Amar agreed, silently amused at Kodan’s lack of will. “Has there been word from the Hags?”
“None since their ill-advised battle with their prey. It seems Harpies aren’t very good for much after all,” Kodan replied. “Nor has there been word from Pelthit Re. Delranan has grown dark. I can no longer see within.”
“Pelthit Re does what he assumes is best. Rebellion has fomented. The kingdom falls into chaos and ruin. We are succeeding but much is still required. It is almost time for the sacrifice.”
Red eyes flashed and went pale. “What of the princess and her party? They are already en route to claim the Blud Hamr. More effort needs to be placed in stopping them.”
“Worry not about that, Kodan. I have plans in motion that should see their travels waylaid.”
“It would be better to kill them outright. Having them around is dangerous. I do not know why but I sense great complications in letting the princess live.”
Amar shifted subtly. He’d felt it too but didn’t know how she convoluted things. “She could be made to fall. The One Eye is weak, too easily manipulated. The princess would make a formidable ally.”
“Can she be turned? Her love for her uncle and betrothed keeps her strong,” Kodan countered. “She needs to die. Anything less is too risky.”
“Perhaps. Time will give us clarity.”
The Dae’shan fell silent, carefully watching the other for signs of treachery. A day was coming when new Dae’shan would be required. The old would get swept away in a great conflagration, leaving only the strongest survivors. Amar Kit’han began plans to ensure he alone stood at the end of the day.
FOURTEEN
Betrayal
“Is this a joke? I’m in no mood for games, Piper,” General Rolnir said without looking up from the missive freshly delivered to his hands.
Piper Joach folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “That is Herger’s handwriting. We both know he’s rather dour on the best days. I doubt highly he’d pull a prank like this.”
“A truce? An alliance even? What is happening here? If Badron learns of this we’ll all lose our heads.”
“Agreed but what’s done is done. There can be no denying the enemy desires to collaborate, at least enough to drive the Goblins back to their mountains haunts in the east. We need to give it serious consideration.”
Rolnir flashed an angered glare. “What of the king? He’ll be here with all of the dark powers at his disposal in a heartbeat. Who was the messenger?”
“I didn’t ask his name but he’s sequestered in one of the supply tents tucked safely away from prying eyes. The bigger issue is how do you intend on replying?” Piper asked.
How indeed? I’ve dreaded making this decision since it was first brought up. “I don’t know. There is no easy answer.”
“Not to mention the Wolfsreik has never turned against a seated monarch.”
Rolnir wanted to spit. “Delranan has never had a mad king before either. Badron is not the same man he was before this nightmare began. I fear we are already losing too much of ourselves in this war, Piper. Things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. We stand on the brink of history and all I can think of is my men. Do you know how many we’ve lost since coming to Rogscroft?”
“Seven hundred thirty-seven dead and nearly two thousand wounded. I was there in the beginning, my friend. I know how bad this is turning out,” Piper said quietly. Much of his bravado faded at the memory of losing so many soldiers in the opening engagement of the war. His shame deepened the longer the war stretched despite Rolnir’s best efforts at dissuading the notion he had failed.
“So many. We are down to seventy percent combat strength and the winter deepens around us. Supply trains have stopped coming. The passes are blocked in. What little supplies come by boat take weeks to get to the battalions. How many soldiers will die of frostbite or starvation before the snows melt? Wars are not meant to be fought thus.”
“Your argument is moot, Rolnir. We did not seek this war, but it is ours nonetheless. As commanders it is our responsibility to ensure as many of the lads return to their homes as possible. No one ever said leading an army was an enviable task,” Piper said.
Running a hand through his thick red hair, Rolnir looked him square in the eye and asked, “What would you do?”
Piper glanced at the half-crumpled parchment in Rolnir’s hand. “Herger presents us with the best option for keeping our men alive and a plausible means for removing the Goblin threat.”
“You still believe Badron will turn them on us once we return to Delranan?”
“If rumors of Harnin’s betrayal are true, yes. The king can’t afford to have such a large fighting force in unsure hands. He’ll throw us into the fray knowing we will be reluctant to kill our own people, and rightfully so. I’ve no desire to shed Delrananian blood. It doesn’t take much imagination to see him using the Goblins to wipe us out along with Harnin’s rebellion simultaneously. Ours backs are to the wall.”
Rolnir shook his head. “But how can we be sure? I need to know the next move I make is the best for everyone, Badron included. He may be demented but he is still our king.”
“Kings come and go, you know this. Perhaps the princess would make a better regent once her father is removed,” Piper suggested.
Rolnir paused. He hadn’t considered Maleela in the equation. More than a century had passed since the last queen of Delranan. Perhaps it was time for the next to arise. She was young but had a very good head on her shoulders and her love for the Rogscroft prince was no secret. Their union would solidify the two kingdoms in ways Badron’s ill-advised war never would.
“Something I said?” Piper asked, seeing the quizzical look in Rolnir’s eyes.
Smiling, Rolnir said, “Just a thought. Maleela is very young but smart. She might make a fine monarch if we can get her to the throne.”
“That’s the true problem. No one has seen or heard from her since she was brought back to Chadra by the Sea Wolf. The old pirate could have absconded with her again or Harnin might have her head on a pike for all we know.”
“True, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Piper. I need time to think before making a decision,” he said.
“What of the messenger?”
Rolnir dropped the parchment into the small tent fire and watched as flames curled up the edges, disintegrating all traces of written treachery. “Take me to him. I want to hear everything he has to say. Perhaps in doing so I will find clarity. All of this troubles my mind and soul too much.”
Piper only nodded in agreement.
Lodi snapped to attention when General Rolnir entered the tent. He shook nervously as his commanding officer looked him up and down. Nine years in the army and he’d never been this close to the leadership.
Seeing his obvious discomfort, Rolnir grinned. “At ease, lad. I’m not the devil the men think. What’s your name?”
“Lodi, General,” he replied quickly.
“Lodi, I need you to explain everything that is happening on the front. Don’t leave any details out. What you have to say may mean life or death for us all.”
Swallowing his suddenly overpowering nerves, Lodi began his tale, “We linked up with the Goblins just south of Rogscroft. They’re a foul-smelling lot with nothing but evil in their eyes. Colonel Herger didn’t trust them none and practically ordered us to follow suit. The march into the mountains went well enough. They stayed in their column and we in ours. It was a three day trek. Me and a handful of boys were sent out as flankers to scout the lower approaches. We didn’t see anything right up into the shadows at the base of the mountains.
“The Colonel deployed us in wedge formations and we advanced. Snows choked most of the passes but we were able to traverse through the foothills without much trouble. The Goblins just pushed right ahead without worry or smarts. They were bloodthirsty and didn’t care about nothing but getting to the Pell Darga. They raised a gods awful noise, some kind of battle hymn as they pushed deeper into the mountains. That’s when we got attacked. The first salvo of arrows punched into the back ranks before anyone knew what was happened. Dozens of Men and even more Goblins went down, dead or wounded.”
A Whisper After Midnight Page 11