"Just how many men does this army from the north boast?" asked Eolic.
Lucian did not want to cause his brother to lose hope, but he would soon find out just the same. "They say that the men cover the hills and plains north of Vorea like ants. There could be close to one hundred thousand."
Eolic stopped in his tracks. "But our forces number only a thousand at most. What numbers have you gathered from the others?"
"Culdora has nearly four thousand warriors. Sanjeera and Kaheendra together will equal more than sixteen thousand and with Ortsk and Ganth we may have another eleven to twelve thousand men."
"That still puts us at nearly half their numbers!" he started breathing heavy and pacing around then stopped and gave Lucian a surprised look. "You got Ganth?"
"Well, I am hoping that the Ambassador was convincing when he returned. We had an issue with Ganth and some of their men were killed."
Eolic simply stared at Lucian. "What in the Father's name have you been through brother? I wish you would have taken me with you."
Lucian clutched Eolic's shoulder. "I was nearly killed and then whisked away by Eliath, or I would have. Whether or not you would have come, the Father only knows."
Eolic took on a bruised look. "Have you always thought me so vile?"
Lucian raised his eyebrows and offered a smile. "Have you ever given me reason to think otherwise?"
Eolic kicked at some dirt and continued on toward the stables. "I am sorry Lucian. I have spent many years caught up in the struggle to be the best. All the while I knew that my only competition, my brother, could have out-shined me at any time. It was for that reason that I showed you such malice. Can you ever forgive me?"
Lucian gave Eolic a slug on the arm. "Do you forget father’s teachings? All can be forgiven.”
The two brothers walked on without words. More had just been said between them than ever before in their lives. When they reached the stables, Lucian picked the two horses he thought the strongest.
"I want to go with you back to Vorea." said Eolic, but Lucian was already shaking his head.
"You must stay and organize the army. There is no other soldier here as capable as you. I wish you could come with me, but getting the army ready and moving is more important. Don’t worry, we will have time later to catch up, and it is something I look forward to.
Eolic pulled Lucian in an embrace. "I too look forward to that time. I will do as you wish and prepare our forces. I'll have those sluggards moving as if their boots were on fire.
Lucian laughed. "I know you will brother, I know you will. Remind me to tell you what I have learned of our bloodline!"
Eolic gave him a curious look but he knew there was not time now for questions. He gave Lucian a rough slap on the shoulder and ran off to start at his task, yelling back over his shoulder. “I will look for you in Vorea brother!”
Lucian took some time to groom the two horses he had picked, brushing them down, checking and cleaning their hooves. He knew he would not have these horses for long so only called them by their colors, grey and chestnut. When he was finished warming the two horses up to him, he grabbed an apple and went to Thunder's stall. The sleek, black, powerful horse stomped the ground at his presence and threw its large head back several times. Lucian held out the apple and Thunder devoured it quickly then shook his head some more. Lucian produced another apple and the magnificent horse sucked that one up as well then dug at the ground with its hoof and snorted.
"I'm afraid that is all I have my friend. But don't worry. I will add something special to your water that will give you more endurance for the trip."
Lucian planned on riding Thunder first but not to exhaustion. He would switch back and forth between grey and chestnut the rest of the way. He wanted Thunder to be mostly rested when he arrived in Vorea or caught up with the army. He hoped the later would come true. He spent as little time as possible brushing off Thunder and preparing him for the trip, he wanted to be off but he would not put the steed at risk just for a few extra minutes so he made sure everything was fine with the horse and tackle before he set out.
Word had spread quickly throughout the village and many had gathered. The townspeople waved at him, mouthing goodbye. He saw Gwen waving at him with one hand and holding a white cloth to her face with the other. He felt bad at what he had done but it was what needed doing. He had never cared for her as anything more than a friend and should have been upfront with her right away, but he was never the bold type, especially around women. He offered her a small wave which seemed to cause her to sob all the more so he simply rode hard to get away from the village, his home.
He was anxious to get back out on the road, to return to his friends. He felt good about his brother now, better than he had ever felt, but he missed Eliath, and Tarriel was growing on him like a barnacle. He chuckled to himself at how he was changing. He had always liked Eliath’s company but they were always alone and he had preferred it that way. Now he found himself desiring to be back with friends. His mood darkened when the thought of war again loomed into his mind. He wondered if his friends would survive it, he hoped and prayed that they would. Gritting his teeth, he spurred Thunder on harder. They would survive this and he would make sure of that.
The Dream of the Apprentice
Valgannon looked upon the Assassins Guild Keep from the concealment of the nearby forest. He had been there for several days, waiting. For the first time in his life, he was unsure of what he should do. He had been defeated in battle and easily. It was enough to make him desire to end his own life, but he had more work to do. He knew that there was something more for him, a reason for his existence He just didn't know what that was anymore. His arm was broken and his jaw had been shattered in the fight with Lucian. He had already braced the broken limb. There wasn’t much to be done with his jaw.
Now he waited. For what, he did not know. A sign maybe, something to help him decide a course of action. He wished to kill Salnar Suntari and claim leadership of the Guild but with his recent failures and his broken body, he was unsure of himself. He lit a small fire within a hollow at the base of a tree, keeping it from lighting up the woods and giving away his position to assassins on patrol. It was growing colder, nearing winter and the fire would not only keep him somewhat warm at night but it would also keep any predators from lurking to close. He would have liked to get some rest but he dared not, so close to the Keep where a lucky assassin might happen upon him while he slept and slit his throat. He would not have that, so he waited. His eyes were growing heavy, pulling shut as if they were dragging him into the void of sleep. He tried to fight it, but he hadn't slept since he left Kaheendra and was losing the battle. He became so tired that his resolve gave in to the body’s needs. Without realizing it he began to pass into the realm of dreams.
"Awake!" screamed a voice, so close that Valgannon jumped up and slashed out with a dagger. He skittered backward across the forest floor, trying to make out his attacker, but he saw nothing. No one leapt at him, no one stood ready to launch a projectile in his direction. There was only the darkness of the woods all around. He sat still, barely breathing for a time until the creatures of the wood began their chorus again. He relaxed a bit and started slowly back toward the fire.
"You have failed!" Came the voice again, booming, causing him to dive behind a tree then roll over to stand and backpedal behind another. His eyes darted around searching the forest, inspecting every shadow. His arm and jaw throbbed from the exertion and movement.
"You have failed me!" screamed the voice again. Valgannon winced at the sound, his mind finally making the connection. He hadn't heard the voice since Kaheendra when he had strangely been knocked to the ground and paralyzed. He thought it had left him and now, with its return, instead of feeling relief, he felt only fear. He wanted to run back through the woods, away from the Keep when suddenly he was lifted up several feet into the air and slammed into a tree, he choked at the invisible force crushing his neck. “You abandoned me
,” he managed to choke out.
There was silence, and the hold on Valgannon’s neck loosened a bit. "But all can be forgiven, my faithful servant." The voice was softer now, solemn, comforting even.
An agonizing moment later Valgannon was released by whatever held him and fell to the forest floor. After regaining enough strength he stood and looked around feeling more vulnerable than he had ever felt before. "How might I be forgiven? What must I do?"
The voice chuckled menacingly. "You must be cleansed, purged of your weakness."
It was what Valgannon had feared, cleansing through pain. Something that he had undergone many times but that had become increasingly more painful. However, he knew that he had no choice. This was the only way to gain grace once again with the master, and he had grown too dependent on the power now. He felt so alone these past days. "I will prepare for the ceremony."
"No need to prepare, much time has been lost and the ceremony only dulls the pain."
Before Valgannon could even register what the voice had said, a surge of burning pain raked through him. He lost all strength in his legs and thought he would crumble, but the power of what consumed him held him aloft, his toes dangling a foot off the ground. He tried to scream but could not, his voice lost from his control. He felt as though his flesh was being seared from his bones and that they were melting.
It seemed to go on for hours, but then, in a blink, it was over. Valgannon fell to the ground in a pile of lingering pain, gasping for breath, not wanting to move for fear of his body falling apart.
An hour passed and he finally gained the strength and nerve to move. He realized that his arm was working again and there was no pain in it. He rubbed his once sore jaw, testing it, and felt nothing, no pain. On top of his body being healed, he felt strength pulsing through him, he felt revitalized, renewed. Looking down at himself he saw that his clothes had been incinerated, he was completely naked but he didn't care. Soon he would bathe in the blood of his victims, the blood of Salnar Suntari.
It was clear to him now, the voice laid out his path. He was to enter the Keep and kill Suntari, claiming lordship over the Guild and ally himself with Thaluzont. No one knew of his own failures, and Thaluzont would be holding Suntari responsible for the failed missions. It was the perfect time for a usurper, the perfect moment that Valgannon had been waiting for.
Valgannon found his charred daggers lying on the ground. He placed one in his mouth and one in each hand, the rest he would have to leave. He crept from shadow to shadow, easily slipping through the defenses of the keep. He knew the building intimately and the securities in place as well. He was heading straight for Salnar's secret chamber, the one that only Salnar and his officers knew of, so they thought. Long ago Valgannon had followed him to the room after a visit with Thaluzont had left Salnar in a vulnerable state.
He was careful to step over the trip cords that would alert guards to the presence of someone in the halls. The secret room was hidden behind a false wall near the top of one of the Keep spires in the scroll room. He slithered through the maze of halls, taking a less direct route figuring that Suntari might have placed traps along the easier, quicker way. He would not underestimate Salnar. Until his fight with Lucian, Valgannon had never underestimated any opponent.
He reached the east tower where the scroll room was located and began ascending the stairwell. His every sense reached out, feeling for traps or anything that might surprise him. This was the only way up to the top of the spire, a perfect place for an ambush or trap. He hadn't been able to follow Salnar close enough the day he discovered the room to see if he disabled any lethal devices. Moving only several yards every half hour, he inched his way up the tower stairwell, floor after floor, lightly stepping, feeling for any looseness in the square stones.
Hours passed before he finally reached the scroll room, three floors down from the top of the tower. The door was open, causing Valgannon’s muscles to tighten immediately. It was not normal for any door within the keep to be left open, unless someone had just come up to fetch a scroll. He slipped into the room, quickly sliding to the right side of the wall, it was a hit or miss decision. Someone could have been lying in wait on either side of the door for him. Either he would enter the room and run right into the waiting assassin, taking away his advantage of surprise, or he would be far enough away from the other side to avoid a deadly strike and prepare for a counter.
Neither of these happened. No one waited on either side for him. Instead he saw a man across the room, fingering through the scrolls that stuck out of the many cubbies lining the walls. He hadn't heard Valgannon come in and rightly so, for Valgannon could move without sound, better than any other assassin within the guild. He quietly slipped up behind the unsuspecting man. The poor fool would never know how he died.
He reached out to sever the arteries on both sides of the man’s neck and could only gasp and contract his stomach, throwing his hips back, in an attempt to avoid the man’s dagger as he whirled around and cut across low with it.
The blade sliced Valgannon across the abdomen and then a powerful shin kick slammed into his side. But Suntari’s Headsman was only surprised for a moment and although the blade had hit its mark, it was a shallow cut and he was ready for the kick. He crunched sideways, flexing his oblique and lateral muscles, accepting the kick. He brought his arm down, pinning the leg to his side and quickly stepped in with his left leg between the assassins and rammed his shoulder into the man's chest, sending him crashing into the wall and then to the floor. He had reversed his grip on the blade in his free hand and plunged it into the stunned assassin's chest, cleaving his heart. He was unmasked and Valgannon recognized him as one of Salnar's lieutenants, Marhan. Why would he be up here looking at scrolls? Valgannon crouched low and stared into Marhan's eyes with a smile as he watched the man’s life light fade out.
He caught motion out of the corner of his eye as he was pulling his knife from Marhan's chest and almost didn't dodge back in time to avoid the sweeping side kick that came at his head. Another assassin had come at him, his foot passing an inch over Valgannon's face as he arched backwards. The man came fully around from the spin and pulled out a short black sword, slicing down at an angle. But Valgannon was already back flipping, landing just out of reach from the blade.
The assassin rushed in to close the gap and make another strike at the retreating Valgannon but was not ready for what happened. As Valgannon had landed from his last flip, he snapped his body forward with tremendous strength and control, reversing his momentum. He came in under the lifted blade of the attacker and thrust both his daggers into the man’s ribs, puncturing both his lungs. The assassin stared at him with wide eyes and tried to breath but his lungs had collapsed and he could not.
Valgannon recognized the assassin now as Torrem, another of Salnar's Lieutenants. He sensed movement behind him. He abandoned the two blades inside Torrem and pulled the blade from his mouth, launching it as he spun. The blade sliced through the air across the room and thunked into the thick wood of the door, but no one was there.
Valgannon scanned the room, sure he had sensed something, but it was empty. He spun to the sound of a click and fell backwards as a concealed door swung open on the false wall. He kick flipped up from the floor just as soon as he had landed, coming right back up to his feet, standing ready. A wicked grin stretched across his face as his eyes connected with Salnar Suntari's who stared back at him evenly from across the hidden room.
†††
Suntari was shocked to see Valgannon, not because of his presence, but because of the state he was in. He had known Valgannon would come back. His scouts had reported to him what had happened in Kaheendra and figured that Valgannon knew that Suntari would want him dead. That would leave Valgannon with two options, run away, or eliminate the threat on his life. In this case, the threat was Suntari and he knew that Valgannon would not run away. Luckily he had heard one of the sentries talking about how he thought he had seen something in the
woods the night he stood guard, but that he dismissed it as an animal, or shadow, or a figment of his imagination. Suntari knew better.
He knew that Valgannon had arrived and he was clever in setting a trap because no one had been alerted by Valgannon's entry into the keep. He hadn't known Valgannon was in the building until the warning was sounded. He had placed a man in a secret cubby within the wall that overlooked the steps of the spire. Once the man saw Valgannon pass by, he tapped lightly on a small rod that ran to the hidden room only audible to those inside.
But even with the other two capable officers ready, Valgannon had already cut through them and now stood face to face with Suntari. He was shocked because Valgannon stood completely naked, glistening with sweat and covered with splats of blood. His hands and forearms were completely soaked in blood as well and he must have smeared some of it onto his face, giving him a devilish appearance.
Suntari spread his stance as Valgannon burst into the hidden room and immediately dove to the right as Suntari launched dagger that nicked his shoulder as it flew by. Valgannon came up and reversed directions, heading straight in at Suntari who had produced another blackened steel blade. The two men met and it was a dancing, whirling, blur of hand and blade. Both masters sliced and thrust with their blades, countering the other’s attacks and delivering strikes of his own, only to be deflected again.
Valgannon circled and worked his blade around in flashing arcs and thrusts, but Suntari moved with him, deftly avoiding most attacks and deflecting the others. The fight continued on, past any length of time that either man had ever fought through before. Suntari was beginning to tire so he went on the defensive, backing and circling out of range more than using his arms to parry. Valgannon had been waiting for it. He was not winded at all, strengthened by the Master’s gift of power.
Revelations of Doom Page 39