Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  "Is this a meal that was intended for a celebration, and you had it given to us instead? Please tell me you did not waste your best meal on us." Lucian was genuinely concerned.

  Harnadook looked at him and a broad smile stretched across his face. "I had a vision that this would be the day that I would meet the Chosen One. I had the feast started early this morning so that it would be ready for your arrival. It is my greatest joy to be seated with you, and serve you."

  Lucian missed everything the old man said after the part of "chosen one." That bit gave him pause. Eliath told him that the Shaman said he had the “mark of power” earlier and he had forgotten. Now hearing this title as well, he began to worry about just who these people thought he was supposed to be.

  "Why do you call me the Chosen One?" asked Lucian.

  Harnadook considered the question for a moment before answering. "Because that is what you are, the Chosen One, you have the mark of power and are meant to lead the armies of good against those that would do evil. You are what our people call, the Light Warden."

  Lucian wished he hadn't asked. He was beginning to think the old man was entirely crazy now. Before he could object, Harnadook spoke again.

  "Your faith in the Great Father is very strong. For this, he has chosen you to be his champion in the battle against evil."

  Lucian tried to speak but was interrupted yet again.

  "I have told you, that you will not accept what I am saying at this time, but it was my duty to do the telling. You must continue on your path. I give you passage through Averule, to Ganth. I will send a guide with you to help you on your journey, you will have nothing to fear on your way to Ganth but be wary when you arrive there. The Dark Lord has many plots astir. He seeks to destroy you most of all. This is why your parents were killed."

  The thought of his parents’ murder sent lightning through his entire being. And the fact that this man would know such things, proved his sanity. "Why would my parents have to die to destroy me?"

  "Not to destroy your body, to destroy your faith,” answered Harnadook, as he reached out and laid a comforting hand on Lucian’s shoulder.

  Lucian raked his fingers through his hair. His mind was spinning out of control. He kept thinking that any minute he would wake form this horrible dream. Ever since his parents had died, his world had turned upside down. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. He had just wanted to find out who had killed his parents, and why they had been murdered. He wanted to laugh at the old Shaman and tell him he was crazy. He wanted to ask his parents about their heritage, see if they knew anything of their past.

  Lucian began to think that maybe it was himself, that had gone mad.

  Harnadook gave a slight squeeze to Lucian’s shoulder, as if he read his thoughts. "Go to Ganth and find the answers to what you are looking for. Stop fighting your heart, with your mind."

  Lucian looked from the old man’s hand on his shoulder, to his old weathered face. His eyes held the brightness of wisdom. With one simple sentence, he had told Lucian just what he needed to hear.

  He started to get up from the table. "We will waste no more time disturbing your people. We have a long road ahead and we must get moving."

  Harnadook stood and motioned for Lucian to slow down. "It is late in the evening. You and the others must get some rest before traveling all day. Please, eat whatever you like and rest. It honors my people to have you here."

  Lucian stood, he didn't believe the part about them being welcome by all the Averese, but the others did need some rest. "I thank you for your great kindness, Harnadook. We will all rest for a few hours before we head to Ganth."

  The two stepped out of the small hut to find Tarriel and the other warriors sitting cross legged around a low table filled with meats, fruit, vegetables, and an assortment of things Lucian did not recognize. They all appeared to be enjoying the meal and didn't even notice the two men coming out of the hut, all except for Tarriel, who seemed impatient and apprehensive. When she saw them come out she stood up and raised her eyebrows in question.

  "We will be leaving for Ganth in the morning, so eat and get some sleep. Harnadook has granted us permission to travel the rest of the way through Averule."

  Tarriel quickly grabbed her pack and signaled for the others to finish up. She walked over to Lucian and Eliath and whispered to them. "What did you tell them to keep us from being eaten?"

  Lucian looked to Eliath, his expression was blank. "They were fascinated in the color of your hair. I told them you were a witch, and at any moment, you could envelop this entire village in demon’s fire and kill them all with your devilish powers. He believed me, and promised that they would not eat us if we left their village at first light."

  Tarriel’s eyes went wide and Lucian thought she might strike him at first, but then they narrowed and she raised her voice, still speaking in Yavasuran. "This is good for them. I did not wish to lay ruin to this village if they chose to fight." She turned a glare to some of the Averese warriors around them.

  Lucian chuckled. "Is it your hope that they don't speak my language, mighty Tarriel?"

  Despite the hot glare that she turned on him, Lucian could not keep from laughing.

  "Keep laughing, foolish man. You will not find it so amusing when you’re looking up at me from the dirt, wondering how you got there." She glared into his eyes with that fiery look that he didn't think he would ever get used to. "And I don't think we should stay. I think we should move out while we can."

  "The mighty warriors of Culdora may need no rest, but Eliath and I do. We will stay and take advantage of the kindness of the Averese. If not, they may become offended and decide to eat us instead."

  Tarriel moved so close to Lucian that he could feel her breath on his face. "Your sarcasm will be the end of you, one of these days." She cut her eyes at him, spun, and marched off toward her warriors, no doubt to begin taking her anger out on them.

  Eliath came up next to Lucian. "It seems you have a knack for upsetting her."

  Lucian gave him a boyish grin. "I’m beginning to enjoy doing so."

  "Just don't look to me for help when she decides to pummel you."

  Lucian couldn't help himself. He spoke loud enough so that she would hear him. "You know Eliath, you and Tarriel would make quite the pair."

  Eliath just gave him a bewildered look, but Tarriel's eyes widened and she whipped her head back around to face the others. Lucian could see her knuckles turning white from how tightly she was clenching her fists. The rest of her seemed to be turning red however. Lucian broke into a new fit of laughter. He saw some of the other warriors trying to hide their amused expressions from Tarriel. That made his laughter, and her anger, rise to new levels.

  The Dark Apprentice

  A man clad in black leather armor snaked through the halls of the dark castle located in the Vorga Mountains. Part of the elite guild of assassins, his rank as personal messenger to the Guild Leader, was to him, a slap in the face. He wanted to be on assignment, out prowling among the sheep of the world, waiting for the moment to strike an intended target. But he was stuck in the keep, a lap dog to the Guild Leader. Everything he desired was given to him. He lived a life of complete luxury. Most would be content, but he despised his position. He was still young, moving up through the ranks quickly, making master assassin when he was but nineteen years of age. But he spent only two years eliminating important marks.

  Salnar Suntari, the Guild Leader, was so proud of him that he requested him to take the position of Personal Messenger. To deny a request from Suntari was a death sentence, so he had no choice but to except the position with gratitude.

  He had been a messenger for seven years now and his only joy came from when Suntari told him to dispatch an assassin who failed in his mission. The other assassins did not know his true name, and called him, “Suntari’s Headsman.” He was feared and hated by them all, because they knew that the day he visited them, could be their last. Most men chose to die with hono
r and would kneel as he beheaded them, thus his title. But there were always a few who thought their sentence unjust, and decided to try and fight him. He made a sport of killing those men, and they did not die quickly, but were made to suffer at his hands. His skill was unmatched among the assassins. Some said he was even the better of Suntari, but that his loyalty stayed his hand.

  Valgannon stopped in front of the door to Suntari’s room. He paused in thought. Loyalty surely was not the reason that kept him from killing his master, twas patience that stayed his hand. He didn’t know if he could defeat Salnar Suntari in open battle, but that was not how an assassin operated. Although he could easily defeat most opponents in solo combat and often preferred it, his deadliest attributes were his stealth and cunning. Most of his victims never even realized that he was in the room when they died. He knew he could kill Suntari, but he needed to wait for the right moment, the perfect time to strike. As he reached for the handle of the door, Suntari’s voice came through the thick wood, bidding him to enter. Valgannon smiled to himself. This man would be a worthy opponent.

  Salnar Suntari was seated in a chair at the back corner of the room facing the door. His long white hair was pulled back in a tight high ponytail, except for a few strands that hung in front of his face. He was rolling the long white hair of his goatee in between his finger and thumb. He wore a light grey, loose fitting tunic and loose grey pants that were tied up below the knee. Over the outfit he wore a thin silver robe of silk with a cowl that he rarely covered his head with. He, along with all the other assassins, wore no jewelry.

  The last time Valgannon had been in the room, the chair Suntari now sat in had been placed in a different location. That was the way of Suntari. He was no fool. He constantly changed, never forming any habits. This way he was never predictable. Valgannon was to meet with him every day at the same time, but often Suntari would not be in the room. A note would be left, with instructions for Valgannon. Sometimes many days would go by where he would not see Suntari and no instructions would be left. But everyday Valgannon was to meet Suntari in his room, unless he was on an assignment that kept him away from the keep. This way, he was made to be predictable while Suntari stayed otherwise. It irritated him deeply, yet there was nothing he could do about it. But he had endless patience, and knew that someday he would discover the favorable moment, in which he would finally have the chance to strike.

  Salnar waved Valgannon in, he appeared to be seated in the chair lazily, looking at the scroll that he held in his hands with apparent interest. But Valgannon knew better. The casual pose that Suntari played at was just a means to catch a would-be assassin off guard. It was somewhat of a trap, meant to draw in the enemy at unawares. Valgannon knew that the leader of the Assassins Guild was watching his every step, and could spring into an attack at a blink. He in turn, casually strolled toward his leader. He wondered if the scroll Suntari held was of any importance. It was probably just a recipe for turtle soup.

  “Welcome Valgannon. What news from Ortsk?" asked Suntari. His voice was laced with feigned boredom.

  "None of the men made it back from the mountain keep. My scouts heard word that their King still lives."

  The brief look that Suntari gave away told Valgannon that the man was surprised of this recent news, as was Valgannon when he had first heard it. Often, assassins would die on these most recent and deadly missions, but not before they accomplished their goal and eliminated their mark. A complete failure like this was unheard of.

  Suntari motioned for him to sit down on the chair that was in the opposite corner of the room. It was not a request but a reminder. He would have to turn his back to Suntari to get to the chair, putting him in a vulnerable position. This would test Valgannon's loyalty. If he walked backward to the chair, it would show mistrust in his master, something that no assassin truly had in anyone, but a deadly show of dishonor and disrespect none the less. Suntari was reminding him of his place.

  He turned and clenched his teeth, straining his ears for any sound of movement as he walked to the chair and sat down. If Suntari wanted, he could use this test to dispatch Valgannon, if he felt threatened by him. Suntari had done this to him several times over the past years. It always made him cringe as though he could feel the knife being buried deep into his back, severing his spine. It made him hate his master all the more.

  He made it to the chair without incident, this time.

  Suntari still pretended to be studying the scroll as he spoke. "My employer will not be pleased with this news. He showed great interest in the death of the Ortsk King. That is why I sent Adrian. He was one of our most skilled men, next to Stephan, who is in Vorea."

  "I will go and dispatch of this King myself if you wish it, master." As Valgannon spoke the words, his heart started pounding faster at the thrill of the hunt. But his hopes died out with the laughter of Suntari.

  "I know that you would like nothing more than to go out and kill again. But your place is here. You have a valuable position and I trust no others with what I offer you."

  Valgannon felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. He wanted to scream out at Suntari, about how he hated his position, how it was a disgrace to him. The hatred burned at his flesh. The man was afraid of him. He held him back so that he would not be recognized, never able to lead the others, and would never gain their respect. He thought to lash out at Suntari. It took all of his control to keep his body from giving way to his thoughts. He only hoped that Suntari could not see his eyes in the darkness of the room, for they were the only things that would betray his desire. He gave a dramatic shrug to Suntari's denial of his request, as if he did not care.

  "I received word from our scouts in Vorea. They say that Stephan eliminated the Emperor and his wife." Valgannon knew what was coming next, but he relished the thought of keeping Suntari in suspense, and he wanted to have him on edge when he gave him the next bit of information.

  "What of the children?"

  Valgannon smiled and spoke slowly. "The son was killed. The daughter however, was not inside the palace and has yet to be found. It would seem that she has…escaped."

  The reaction he got from Suntari was more than he expected.

  Suntari jumped up from his seat, the quickness with which he stood startled Valgannon and he almost flicked his wrist to release the dagger from his bracer, but quickly adjusted and stayed calm so as not to bring on an attack from his leader.

  Suntari bellowed out in rage. "The princess could lead the people of Vorea as well, if not better than her father. And with her father’s death, the people will flock to her. The goal was for the entire family!"

  Valgannon, despite his unconcerned appearance, was elated. "Stephan has remained in Vorea to search out the princess, he would not return without completing his mission fully."

  Suntari kicked out, sending a mug of ale that was sitting on a table near him across the room, to shatter against the wall. The speed of the kick impressed Valgannon.

  "Of course he stays in Vorea,” Suntari growled.” “But it is not to finish his mission. He fears for his life because of his failure. He should have waited to attack the family until he was sure they were all there, every one of them. There is no chance that the princess will surface now. He has failed, and has no honor. He should have returned here to face his fate!"

  Valgannon raised his eyebrows in waiting for what he already knew was coming.

  Suntari pointed at him, as if he would shoot lightning from his finger. His eyes were ablaze. "You will go to Vorea and rid me of the filth that is Stephan!"

  Finally, Valgannon got what he had been waiting for, the decree to kill. And this would be a worthy opponent. In his opinion, Stephan was the finest assassin that Suntari had, other than himself of course. Despite Stephan’s failure to kill the princess, he was impressed that the assassin even made it into the Imperial Palace by himself and managed to kill the emperor, who was rumored to be a great master of the sword. Valgannon could not hide his smile. He knew wit
hout a doubt that Stephan would fight him. And he would face him head on, as warriors, not assassins.

  "As you wish it master, I will dispatch further spies into Vorea to discover the whereabouts of the Princess. She will not elude us for long."

  Valgannon turned and headed out the door, not waiting for any confirmation from Suntari. Once given the order to kill, he wasted no time in completing the deed. Just before reaching the door he stopped.

  "Oh, there is one more issue, my Master."

  Suntari seemed not to hear him, and instead, stared at the floor in thought.

  "The assassin we sent to kill that insignificant boy and his parents..." Valgannon let the phrase linger as Suntari's head snapped up, his eyes wide with anticipation. "He did not return. The house was burned to the ground and four bodies were found." He paused again, enjoying every moment of Suntari's agony. "Two of the bodies were identified as the parents. Another body was lying in the house near them but was burned beyond recognition. The fourth body was impaled on a tree outside of the house and was without a head."

  "Without a head?" muttered Suntari.

  Suntari's confused expression sent waves of pleasure through Valgannon.

  "Yes, without a head, but the body was clothed in the black leather armor of our guild." That was the final thorn he would place in Suntari's side.

  Suntari slumped down into his chair, his eyes moving all around, searching for some sort of reasoning that would bring him peace about what he had just heard. He looked up at Valgannon, his eyes asking if he heard correctly.

  Valgannon nodded, realizing the expression for what it meant.

  Suntari sat with a blank look on his face for a moment while Valgannon held back the urge to grin. "We must discover if the boy still lives. Thaluzont will not be pleased with this news."