The King’s Banquet
Ollie Odebunmi
Copyright© 2018 Ollie Odebunmi
Table of Contents
The Swordswoman & The Axeman
Kings’ Counsel
The Dark Man
Crimson Mist
Prologue
Acknowledgements & A Final Word from the Author
The Swordswoman & The Axeman
Belash screamed as agony lanced through his skull. His senses swam. He staggered back and slumped to the hard, rocky ground as his legs buckled. Blackness beckoned – a seductive surcease to the pain roaring through his head.
But Belash was a strong man – of body and mind. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back against the encroaching darkness and grasping his axe, lurched to his feet.
He looked up at the horrific figure looming over him, its huge amorphous shape pulsing in the sickly green light cast by the lattice-work of energy spread across the seven towers in the short distance.
The amorphous figure solidified into a man-shape with a huge lidless eye set above a wide gash of a mouth. Belash felt himself being drawn into the dark swirling depths of the eye, then the pain ceased, but what came after wasn’t any more pleasant.
Belash was in a meadow under a cloudless sunlit sky, his hand on the shoulder of a dark-haired boy as he showed him how to string and draw a bow. A plump but comely looking woman, her dark hair in two long plaits, sat on a blanket by a bubbling brook, her eyes soft and loving as she gazed at her husband and son.
Belash groaned, then his anger flared, terrible and all-consuming. “Get out of my head, you whoreson,” he screamed, hurling himself at his tormentor, axe raised.
But he was still weak. His legs failed him again and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees. Multiple, long articulated arms ending in serrated pincers sprang from the abomination before him. Belash looked up at it, eyes blazing defiance as he prepared for death.
A piercing shriek rang out. A tall slender figure sprang into view, her twin blades – silver-shards of moonlight in the sickly gloom, sheared through the articulated arms grasping at Belash. The long thick members went flying, gore spraying the air.
Belash rolled to his feet, fresh energy surging through him as he grasped his axe anew. “Well met, Kyung-Su,” he croaked, slicing through an arm reaching for his throat. The tall slender woman, long black hair framing her face, glanced over her shoulder – cold grey eyes mocking, then returned to her task.
Belash and Kyung-Su hacked and cut at the abomination before them, their weapons tearing away great chunks of perverted flesh, inflicting terrible wounds, which healed and closed almost instantly.
But Belash, his blood up, was now indefatigable, Kyung-Su no more so. They moved, ducking and pirouetting away from the grasping arms that grew anew after being hewn off, all the while, their weapons cutting and slashing.
It appeared to Belash it was taking longer for the creature’s wounds to heal, but he couldn’t be sure. However, there were certainly fewer arms lashing at him. He risked a swift glance at Kyung-Su, marveling at the speed and graceful movements of her dance of the blades.
She was as cold and deadly as she was beautiful and had saved his life countless times since they both joined the quest to rid the world of the evil of the Gualich soul eaters. But again, he had also saved her life numerous times.
A high-pitched ululating screech of pain echoed through Belash’s skull. He raised a hand to his head and lurched backward. Kyung-Su must have felt the same for she also staggered, her faced screwed up in pain.
Suddenly, the soul eater was gone. It simply winked out of existence, leaving chunks of flesh strewn on the ground amid pools of noxious blood, some of which covered Belash and Kyung-Su.
They stood, weapons hanging loosely as they sucked in great breaths of air. Belash grinned at his companion, then turned around as he saw her glance over his shoulder.
Two tall figures appeared in the gloom. The latticework above the towers that had provided a semblance of light had disappeared along with the Gualich.
The sky was beginning to lighten to the east as a new day dawned. But the all-pervading gloom that was as much part of Tor-Arnath as the barren rocky ground underfoot, was not easily lifted.
“Castillan,” Belash grunted, his eyes narrowing. He had little love for the white-bearded sorcerer and had always suspected the man knew a lot more than he let on about the mysterious gateway through which the soul eaters entered the world.
The sorcerer cast a swift glance around, nose wrinkling in distaste at the chunks of Gualich flesh on the ground. “So, Belash, it appears you and Kyung-Su managed to do away with Kbari.”
Belash sniffed and nodded. “Aye, if that was the foul creatures name, but Shilat’s tits, it almost had me, but for Kyung-Su. He stared hard at Castillan. “And, I trust you and Kaliope managed to do away with the other one…I believe you called it Beleth?”
“Yes, Kaliope and I sent his trembling essence wailing back to the Gualich home world…a lot quicker than you vanquished Kbari, dwarf.”
Belash spat out a vulgar expletive and glared at Castillan, bringing a peal of laughter from Kyung-Su. Belash frowned, unsure whether his choice of word or him being called a dwarf was responsible for her mirth.
The woman’s disdain and constant mockery angered him. Yet, he had seen another side of her that night she took him into her bed. And what a night it had been! It was all very puzzling, but he had long given up trying to understand women, for it was like trying to grasp a breeze in his hand.
Short of stature, with an absurdly thickly-muscled body close to the girth of two strong men melded together, he had the appearance of a troll of frightening vitality. Catching Kaliope’s eye, he flashed a gap-toothed smile in return.
With her closed-cropped silver-white hair and unusual gold-hued eyes, she was the tallest woman he had ever seen. But then, most women were tall as far as he was concerned. However, here was a woman of rare grace and nobility, and Shilat’s tits, like Kyung-Su, she was a fierce uncompromising warrior, deadly with the ruby-pommeled sword hanging on her hip. And her magick – derived from the sun – he had learned, was powerful, even more so than the pigging, arrogant sorcerer’s.
Castillan stepped forward. “You and Kyung-Su are done here, it’s time you left, but Kaliope and I still have a task to complete to ensure the demons never return.”
Belash grunted another obscenity, fixing Castillan with a baleful stare. “Good, for if I spend any more time in your company, sorcerer, with you talking to me like am nothing more than dry cow dung under your foot, I’ll be tempted to take my axe to your neck.”
Castillan glared at Belash, lips curled in disdain, but his retort remained unspoken. Something in the Axeman’s dark eyes told him these were not mere words, and he had no wish to feel the kiss of the blades of the fearsome axe on his neck. He had long learned how to inure his flesh against weapons of cold iron over the years, but Belash’s axe was no ordinary weapon. Ausak Demon Bane was a weapon of dark legend, its origins shrouded in mystery even he hadn’t been able to pierce.
Ausak Demon Bane had been referenced in many dark grimoires. And Castillan had been quick to recognize it, when the ugly troll, Belash, answered the call for warriors to stand against the Gualich.
He had no idea how the man had come by the weapon, although the grimoires spoke of how down the centuries, Ausak somehow always found its way into the hands of the most capable living male descendant of the warrior who had first wielded it. Little was known about him but his name; Kolovos. Known as the Abyss Sender or Death’s Shadow, he had lived four-hundred years or so earlier, a savage killer who had drenched the land in blood.
The Gualich and their demonic servant
s – the Suanggi and Bahktak, had proven themselves impervious to ordinary weapons forged by man. The only weapons that could harm them were Ausak, Kyung-Su’s Stormblades, and the ruby-pommeled sword of Mithros carried by Kaliope, the High Priestess of the sun deity.
Castillan had little time for any of the bearers of these ensorcelled weapons but reasoned he could put up with that minor inconvenience if meant ridding the world of the soul eaters. After all, though none knew, it was he who had inadvertently activated the gateway in his quest for knowledge and power. As a younger man, his blind haste and ignorance had made him forego necessary precautions, such as placing a ward to hide the gateway’s presence from uninvited inimical entities.
Belash glanced at Kaliope and inclined his head in farewell. The High Priestess arched a snow-white eyebrow and inclined her head in return. One night when drunk, he’d told her how much he liked it when she did that.
Hearing Kyung-Su’s low mocking laughter – though he didn’t remember her being there that night – he spun on his heel and started to walk away.
Kyung-Su cast ice-grey eyes on Castillan and Kaliope – her expression unreadable, gave a curt nod, then spun and walked after Belash.
Kaliope took a deep breath and turned to Castillan. “So, Sorcerer, you’ve seen the wisdom in my words. We must destroy this gateway, then travel to the Gualich home world in my Terrene to destroy the gateway there. That’s the only way we can ensure they never return.”
Castillan shook his head. “No Kaliope. I think it’s folly to destroy the gateway. It’s a wondrous thing we can learn so much from. Think about the knowledge future generations would glean from the ability to travel to other worlds, and what we…they could learn from those who visit our world. Of course, we’d have to ward the portal from unwanted interlopers like the Gualich.”
Kaliope’s eyes were grave as she spoke. “You are wrong Castillan. Not all knowledge should be welcome, particularly if it brings great danger with it. But I’ll not debate the point with you. This is now your world and you bear responsibility for it, for it’s time for the Order of Mithros to withdraw from the world and the mundane affairs of men. Our new temple far from here and shielded from the lustful eyes of men, nears completion. There, we shall content ourselves studying the Mysteries and the meaning of existence.”
“Well, you do that, Kaliope,” Castillan said, eyes mocking. “You and your women priests can hide away from the real world and do whatever it is women who have no love for men do, when alone. I’ll do what must be done here. I’ll place an unbroachable barrier across the gateway…one that will last for over a thousand years.”
Castillan watched as Kaliope raised her arms. A large golden globe – a Terrene, appeared. The priestess stepped into it, and the travel-sphere winked out of existence.
Now alone, Castillan turned his gaze toward the gateway in the short distance. Bathed in the red-gold light of the rising sun, two pillars joined by a crumbling stone lintel sat on a wide stone plinth.
Shaking his head in wonder how such an incongruous looking thing of crumbling stone could hold such power, he walked toward it. He focused his mind and gathered his strength for the task he had to perform. It would have been much easier with Kaliope’s aid, but not beyond the powers of the mightiest sorcerer of the age.
As he approached the gateway, Castillan admitted to himself that Kaliope’s advice might indeed be the correct course. But his guts had turned to water with terror, at the idea of broaching the Gualich home world. Humans were not meant to set foot in such a place. He hadn’t admitted his fear to the woman but had seen the truth of her knowing in her eyes.
He hadn’t told Kaliope everything he planned, for he felt he didn’t answer to her. His barrier – constructed of his most potent magick, would indeed last for a very long time, perhaps more than the thousand years he’d boasted. It would appear to the Gualich the gateway had been destroyed, for no soul-fire – which had originally enticed them – would seep through the barrier. And, if and when the barrier failed, he would ensure his descendants down the ages to come would be on hand to protect the land and the world against the soul eaters. His bloodline was mighty, blessed with men and women of rare gifts and power, and those blessed with such had the right to wield them.
The lore of what had happened here – the defeat of the Gualich, would be passed down the line from grandfather, to father to son, ensuring that every male in the lineage was aware of their responsibilities.
The line of Castillan, the greatest mage of his time, would be known as the line of demon killers, to whom the world looked for protection. A fitting legacy indeed.
Kings’ Counsel
Crag Halbrosin, the ancestral home and seat of power of the Halbro dynasty who had long-ruled Mellania had stood for over five-hundred years. Built high on the cliffs overlooking the Bay of Petralis, its high grey-stone walls, crenellated battlements and guard towers watched over the city. A grim, foreboding sentinel that kept the people safe in their beds at night.
Life in the king’s city was good. Food was plentiful and the majority of Mellania’s trade across the seas came through Petralis. People had access to luxury items such as silk, rare gems, finely wrought potteries, intricately-worked leather and the finest wines.
Then the Gualich came, and people no longer felt safe under the shadow of Crag Halbrosin. The king and his armies couldn’t protect them against the soul eaters. And the shadow cast by the king’s castle, became oppressive as rumors spread. Whispers of their king entering into a bargain with the demons to keep the royal family and members of his court safe at the expense of the ordinary people.
Many fled. Some to the many islands dotting the Vilrahel, and others to the mountains to the north.
Most fled east to cities like Corralis, Carpalis and Luallis, or across the border to neighboring countries such as Prianna and Pallania.
But there was no safety to be found. The Gualich’s demonic servants – the Suanggi and their gigantic hounds, ranged across the land, laying it to waste and harvesting human souls for their masters. Old and young, men, women, children and babes in arms.
None were spared, as death in a most horrific form none could have imagined, cast an all-pervading shadow over the land.
Every force sent against the Gualich fell, almost to a man, and the darkness spread far beyond Mellania. United in alarm and despair, other kings sent forces and they too fell for the demons were impervious to their weapons.
With weapons of iron failing, the kings turned to sorcery. Sorcerers, mages and spell-casters gathered from far and wide. They wrought mighty magicks but couldn’t destroy the demons.
One of those who answered the call was Castillan the White. The much-feared sorcerer owed allegiance to no one, living a solitary life high in the Northir mountains, the great shaggy snow-bears and sabre-tusked giant wolves who laired there, his only company.
It was said that when a younger man, Castillan travelled far and wide in an insatiable quest for arcane knowledge and power. He consulted with necromancers, shamansi and warlocks in the desert lands far to the south and mysterious lands of dark-and yellow-skinned people far across the seas.
It was whispered he saw and did things that would blast an ordinary man’s soul. He entered into a pact with the hollow-toothed wraiths who ruled the lands of eternal twilight, uncountable leagues away at the edge of the world, and communed with other dark creatures from the pit.
Castillan told the kings his wanderings and studies had revealed to him where the soul eaters came from and how they could be defeated.
He told them to call for the best warriors in their kingdoms to gather at Petralis, with a promise that those who were chosen, and survived the quest, would walk away with their weight in gold.
Many came, but much to the kings’ consternation, Castillan refused them all except for a short, squat troll of an axeman.
The Emperor of Gaekche, an eastern kingdom on the continent at the other end of the Vilrahel, angered
at the loss of his two brothers who were part of an ambassadorial team, sent his deadliest warrior – who also happened to be his sister. Tall, slender and raven-haired, with ice-cold storm-grey eyes, she was the epitome of a haughty warrior-born.
Castillan chose her, together with another woman. As tall as the tallest man present, her eyes cast an uncommon radiance akin to the glow of the sun itself.
The kings were distinctly unimpressed. “You turn away our mightiest warriors and choose an ugly troll,” one said.
“More like a dwarf,” another was quick to add, to grunts and shouts of assent from the others gathered.
“You did well to choose the woman from Gaekche though,” another added, “for her Emperor would have been most insulted, and it would have caused many of us…should we say…certain problems, had you refused her.”
I care not for your sensibilities, or that of the Emperor,” Castillan told them. “But he chose well in sending her, for she carries the Stormblades.”
“Stormblades?” the kings queried.
Castillan nodded. “The Stormblades, forged from a rock that fell from the sky, by the great sword maker, Nahae Isageum. No demon can stand before she who wields them,” he quoted
“And what about the dwarf or is it a troll?” another of the kings asked to laughter. “Is that fearsome skull cleaver he carries, another famed demon killing weapon?”
Castillan nodded again. “Yes. Ausak Demon Bane…the name says it all. I have come across Ausak in many legends and ancient writings going back hundreds of years.” He fixed the kings with a warning stare. “And I would advise against calling Belash a troll or dwarf within his earshot, for any man who carries Ausak Demon Bane isn’t one to be trifled with, even by kings.”
“What about the other woman, the one with the strange eyes?” another asked. “She is comely enough to look at… and I wouldn’t mind bedding her,” he added, to lecherous laughter from some of the others. “But she’s no warrior. What use will she be, fry the demons with flames from her eyes?”
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