But Eliath was quicker than the assassin expected, and he was enraged. He leapt into the air, delivering a straight kick, slamming his heel into the assassin’s chest, and sending him flying backwards to smack hard into a tree. The assassin’s icy blue eyes looked confused as his vision fell down to the branch that protruded from his chest. The hideously wicked laugh came forth again. It was mixed with the high-pitched cackle from the man himself.
Eliath walked up to him and leaned close to his face, staring into his icy gaze. The assassin continued his disgusting cackle as the being inside spoke. "My work here is done, my Master will be pleased."
"You’re not going to your Master just yet Banrael, you will see the Father first. Ijon has come."
The icy blue eyes snapped open wide and started darting left and right, looking all around, the assassins arm with the dagger came up, his hand snatching Eliath’s throat, pulling him closer. "No!" both voices screamed out.
In one quick, fluid motion, Eliath pulled back, extending out the assassins arm. He pulled his blade free from the arm and slammed it into the man’s head pinning it to the tree. The assassin’s screams stopped, and the glow in his eyes died with him. Banrael's screams continued, however, but seemed to move off into the distance, further and further, until they were gone.
"Good bye Banrael, my fallen brother." whispered Eliath. He ran over to Lucian, the black blade was still lodged in his side. "Hold on Lucian, stay with me. There is work you have yet to accomplish in this life."
Eliath placed his left hand over the wound, the blade of the knife between his fingers. He pushed down hard and he grabbed the knife with his right hand and pulled it free, then clamped down with both hands on the wound, but blood flowed out through his fingers. Closing his eyes, Eliath looked toward the sky and began whispering a soft prayer. The bleeding started to slow. A light ignited under his hands, the area around them hummed and there was a burst of air that lifted the debris off the forest floor and knocked back the rain all around them. And then there was only the sound of the storm, the rain pelting the leaves on the trees, splashing into the puddles that were forming on the ground. Thunder rolled around among the clouds. The wound was sealed.
Eliath looked up at the assassin’s body pinned to the tree. Wide eyes stared off at nothingness. The soul was gone from the body, sucked down into the flaming pits of the abyss by the Fallen Lord. Eliath stood and walked over to the empty shell and yanked his knife free. He pulled the mask off the assassin, grabbed a fist full of hair, and removed the head from its body.
A Tribe Scorned a Ruler Forgotten
Two months earlier
"Jephan!" screamed King Shazul, beckoning his Minister of War. He stalked around his private council chamber mumbling to himself, "Jephan! Hang it all, what is taking you so long!?"
King Shazul couldn’t believe how bold this man, Thaluzont, was. To come to the gates of his mighty city with a mere twenty-four armed men, to seek a treaty? This great warlord from the mountains at the northern most reaches of Los. A fool he must be. All the rumors he had heard of this man must have been greatly elaborated.
The Minister of War came charging into the room, breathless. He was on the other side of the palace when he heard that the King was screaming his name. Shazul had a habit of doing that. If he wanted someone or something he simply started yelling for it. Servants would start dashing every which way trying to find who or what it was their king wanted.
"Yes my King?" Jephan had to lean forward with his hands on his knees to keep his balance as he regained his breath.
"By the Gods Jephan, were you out fishing for sand flees? I should have you whipped for taking so long in heeding my call!"
"Forgive me my King. I will make sure I come faster next time."
Shazul waved off the issue, bored with it. "What do you think of this brigand, Lord Thaluzont," He let out a hardy laugh. "He calls himself a Lord, and he comes to my kingdom asking for a treaty with his tiny little contingent."
"Yes Lord, the size one uses for his escort, most often determines the size of his force. I would gamble that this self-proclaimed ruler has no more than a small force of maybe a couple thousand men." Jephan twisted his goatee between his finger and thumb as he feigned a look of boredom about the whole issue.
King Shazul drummed his fingers on the ornate oak table in the middle of the room. "What do you think we should do? Simply send out our force to decimate him right now, a favor, before he rots in the desert? Ha!"
"No my King, I have another idea that I think would serve you better. Bring the fool and his men into the palace. We have nothing to fear of his small force. Invite him to dine with us like custom would have it. Lull him with kind words, a warm smile, and open arms." Jephan chuckled at his own genius. "Then ridicule him in front of his men and make them see him for the lowly worm he is. Scorn him and banish him from our lands keeping his chest of gold to help feed the poor hungry children of our tribe."
Shazul made an attempt to look surprised. "We have starving children in my city? How come I was not informed of this? We must put a stop to it," he proclaimed as if addressing the entire tribe.
Jephan just smiled at the jest, "Make a good show of it so our people will see how great and mighty King Shazul is. They have heard stories about this warlord, they fear him. His public humiliation will show the people how powerful you are."
Shazul's smile was growing wider all the while his War Minister laid out the plan. When he finished, the King slammed his fists on the table. "You are a genius Jephan! You will be well rewarded after this. How does another wife sound? Maybe you would like to take one of mine off my hands?"
The two men laughed together, slapping each other on the back. They disregarded the many rumors of the power of Thaluzont. After all, rumors were just that, rumors.
†††
The Oharnians were the largest of the northern tribes. The land was mostly vast desert planes, except for the very southern edge, which was thick forest before butting up to the northern reaches of Vorea. The Oharnian army was known for their mounted raiders, the Hurandi. They would charge in wedge formations wielding two long curved swords. They were each equipped with a powerful crossbow holding a single bolt. As they came in range of the enemy’s front line they would let the bolts fly leveling the first rank, then wade in with their dual blades. Their large, humped mounts were built for desert travel and could maneuver better in the sands. They wore a heavy plate of armor on their front so no spear could find its mark on them. A full charge from the Hurandi was devastating.
Thaluzont was happy to hear of the power of Oharna. It pleased him to know that such a force would soon be added to his legion. He had listened to his Master and planned it out perfectly. Soon he would enter the great city of Oharna with a small contingent of his men. He would meet the greedy King and dine with him. Then he would give the proud fool his terms. His messenger would have delivered his gift to King Shazul by now, the chest of gold with a letter requesting a treaty, written in his own hand, would no doubt grant him an audience.
Thaluzont knew the proud King would never agree to a treaty, but once they were inside the city walls, the rest mattered little. Meanwhile, his entire northern army remained hidden among the huge dunes that dotted the vast desert north of the Oharna city walls. Thaluzont had sent a small force to the desert months ago, to prepare for this event. They would come out every night in the cover of dark, digging trenches and large pits in and around the dunes, just shy of a thousand yards from the city. His general had been filtering in the army little by little over a week, getting into position. The men would lie in the pits and trenches and more men would cover them with large leather tarps that were made for this very maneuver. They would then cover the tarps with a light dusting of sand. From atop the wall of the city, the men would be invisible. The fool king rarely sent out patrols through the desert, thinking that no one from the north would ever consider the tactic that Thaluzont now used.
Tavar
waited with the army for the signal while Thaluzont and two dozen of his finest warriors stood several hundred yards outside the city gate, waiting for his messenger to return. The massive portcullis rose just high enough for a man to run under it. The messenger came into view as he sprinted toward them. Thaluzont smiled to himself as he noticed that the gate remained partially open. He did not need to hear the messengers report. He already knew the answer. Before the messenger could meet them, Thaluzont started his escort toward the city. The messenger formed in with the rest of the column. As they entered through the gates, the King, with his royal guard, greeted Thaluzont.
For a short instant, Shazul was taken aback by the imposing stature of Thaluzont, but quickly hid his surprise. As King of Oharna, he was outfitted in his royal robes of white and tan fabric with gold embroidery. Jeweled slippers with pointed tips that curved upwards adorned his feet. His crown was set into an oversized headpiece of silken cloth. A beautiful round gem, the color of the ocean, was inlaid in the center piece. He was dark skinned with coarse black hair and dark eyes set in a smug, angular face. A large, jeweled, perfectly made scimitar hung at his side. He was tall and seemed well toned. He was considered to be a great warrior among his people and would often assist in the very training of his own Hurandi.
Thaluzont smiled to himself as he thought of how he would look with that sword on his hip. This King wore more wealth on his person than some of the northern clans in their entirety had ever seen.
Oharna was a wealthy city because of the rare jewels that came from mining the desert caves. The other tribes around Los would pay large sums of money to get their hands on these precious jewels. It made the tribe rich. They used the wealth wisely, strengthening their army with well-made weapons and armor, and made their city strong and beautiful. Yes. Thaluzont was pleased indeed with this city.
“Come in, come in,” greeted Shazul. ”Welcome to my city, Lord Thaluzont, the meal is ready. We shall feast together!"
Thaluzont thought that the King was trying too hard to be welcoming. The man’s eyes betrayed him. Thaluzont could tell that he was not wanted here. But he didn't care. What will be, will be. Nothing could stop him.
He and his escort were led into an elaborate dining hall that easily fit his men, along with at least twenty of Shazul's aids, in the room comfortably. A quick glance showed the room was surrounded by intricately carved and jeweled lanterns. The flames around the entire room cast strange shadows in every direction. The vaulted ceiling was painted with the scenes of an ancient war and the armies of Oharna where reigning victorious. Thaluzont had heard of no such war and surmised that the picture was just a fictional painting created for a rich nation that would make them swell with pride at the sight of it. He almost laughed at the irony of it all. They viewed themselves as such a powerful tribe and soon they would all bow to Lord Thaluzont.
The first course came out, a roasted pig with several side dishes. Thaluzont forced himself to eat a little while his hungry men dug in like the wild creatures that they were. He listened to the King talk of his land and people, about how much they loved him and how well they all lived. Thaluzont would soon find out how much his people loved their King.
As the second course of the meal was being brought out to the table Thaluzont noticed that King Shazul had stopped eating. He was wringing his hands while talking to his advisor. Finally he looked up with that fake smile on his face and shoved another bite of food in his mouth. Thaluzont was beginning to tire of this man and his lying face, but the whispering voices bade him to stay calm.
"So Lord Thaluzont, I have been hearing a great many things coming down from the north. A great many...disturbing things." The King continued to smile and chew his food as he looked to Thaluzont.
Thaluzont decided to play into the line of questioning, though he already knew what was to come. "And what sort of things have you been hearing, great King?"
Shazul’s smile withered away. He leaned over the table toward Thaluzont. "I hear stories of a great tyrant that is sweeping through the northern tribes, demanding allegiance, and if they do not swear it, he destroys them. I hear he has no compassion and even kills women and steals children to send a message to the other clans." King Shazul's face had turned a dark shade of red now and he was almost standing from his chair, his voice cracking in anger. "And I hear that this monster's name is none other than Thaluzont!" He slammed his cutting knife into the table, imbedding it into the wood. "We will suffer no treaty with the likes of you Thaluzont. My men will escort you from our lands, and you would be wise not to return!"
Thaluzont stood slowly form his chair as guards poured into the dining hall. He bowed to the King, keeping his eyes on him. What must have been the Commander of the Oharnian forces entered the hall and motioned for Thaluzont and his men to exit the room. He led them out into the courtyard outside of the palace before the gate. Thaluzont stopped and turned to the King. The city guards all around leveled their spears at him and swords were drawn. Thaluzont's men kept their weapons sheathed and stood by his side, looking uninterested. But as casual as they appeared, his men were all poised for battle, ready to kill. Thaluzont bowed again to the king, the act of which had his muscles twitching with fury, but he showed no emotion.
"Great King, hear me, I beseech thee."
"Say what you must and make it quick." Shazul stood with his hand on the hilt of his fine sword. He was uneasy at the calm state that Thaluzont was in.
"I wish to say only this. Do not throw the lives of all your men away so carelessly. I wish only to have them serve under my banner."
Shazul looked around to his men, as if he could not believe what he just heard. "You dare come to my palace and demand the surrender of my army? You are a fool Thaluzont." His tone and bearing were harsh, but he was sweating nervously. Thaluzont’s dark gaze and calm demeanor were unsettling.
Thaluzont put his hands out to his sides, in a submissive gesture. "Great King, my entire army lays in wait, just beyond your walls. In a matter of minutes they will storm this city and run through all that reside within. Is that what you wish for your people?"
Thaluzont watched with hidden pleasure as the commander and his men started looking around nervously, the commander shouted an order for the lookouts to report any activity. They called back that there was no one to be seen for miles.
Shazul smiled a smug smile as he looked at Thaluzont. "You think such a bluff would scare me into submission so easily?"
Thaluzont looked to the commander. "Tell one of your men to shoot a flaming arrow out over the desert, than tell me what you see."
The commander looked to his King. Shazul rolled his eyes and gave him a quick nod.
The commander gave the order.
They watched as the lookout pulled back on his long bow and released, sending a flaming arrow across the desert.
They waited.
The lookout seemed to stumble back several steps. The commander called out to him for a report but the lookout said nothing, so he ran up to the post, to see for himself what seemed to have left his man speechless.
When the commander looked out across the dunes from the top of the city wall, the blood drained from his face. Out of the vast desert, men seemed to be materializing from the sand. Before long, the Commander thought he was looking at a sea in the middle of the desert. There were so many of them, thousands upon thousands. He heard his King shout for him and finally brought himself to look away from the massive army outside his city walls. He slowly walked back to where Thaluzont was surrounded. At first he had felt that this man was crazy, some tyrant from the north that was so insane that he thought he would scare the people of Oharna into surrender. Now as he looked at the man, he saw genius, pure evil genius.
"What is it Commander, what did you see?" yelled Shazul, obviously irritated that he even had to ask, and furiously wiped away the sweat that was now streaming down his face.
"Men....thousands upon thousands of men, the largest force I have ever s
een."
King Shazul remained indignant and moved closer to Thaluzont. He had no intention of allowing this brigand from the north disgrace him in front of his people. "It does not matter, your force will shatter upon our walls and you will not live to witness it." He pulled his sword from its scabbard, his final act as King.
Thaluzont had seen all he needed to see from the expression on the commander’s face. He turned his back on Shazul. "It is not your decision anymore pathetic King."
Shazul opened his mouth to call out the attack as he brought his sword up to strike. Thaluzont spun, and with lightning speed, lashed out a backhand at the King. His spiked gauntlet struck Shazul with tremendous power, completely separating his jaw from his head. The mangled jawbone flew off into the distance. Shazul stood wavering, eyes so wide they looked as if they would pop out of the sockets. Blood coursed down from the gaping wound, covering the front of his fine robes. He went to his knees then fell flat on his face. Horrible gurgling sounds were all anyone could hear until Thaluzont reached down, picked up the finely made scimitar that once belonged to the King of Oharna, and slowly pushed it down through the center of Shazul’s back.
No one moved, and utter silence permeated the city. The commander stared at his fallen King. The Oharnian soldiers looked around at each other, none of them making any move toward the frightening man that just decimated their leader.
"So Commander, what is your decision? Do you choose to suffer for yourself and your people the same fate as your insolent King? Or do you wish to join my army as one of my officers and enjoy the spoils of war that will be ours when we sweep the southern tribes, pillaging their villages and raping their women? I hear that the King has a beautiful daughter. She of course must die, but if you wish, she can be yours before that time arrives."
Revelations of Doom Page 6