The man in the front was tall and wore Kaelian armor. His dark beard and mustache masked most of his face, but did not totally hide a prominent scar that ran down his cheek and into his beard, the white scar in sharp contrast to his dark hair. Many of the men around him wore Kaelian armor but some did not wear any, although they all had weapons of some sort. They looked to be a rag tag group of warriors who had been living hard. Their clothes were dirty and worn from travel but they sat tall in their saddles.
The man nodded at Jarak. “King Jarak?”
“I am King Jarak.”
“We have been riding hard to find you. I am Captain Fangar. We have come to fight alongside you.”
“Well met, Captain. We could use your blades, there is no doubt. I had thought the Kaelian army was no more.”
“After the Saricons took Eltus many of the warriors that were not killed in battle were executed. Some managed to escape into the countryside and I have spent the last six months gathering the refugees together to form what army I could. We are warriors, King Jarak. We did not know what to do until we received word that you were still alive and forming an army. We want to fight with you. We want to destroy the cursed Saricons.”
Jarak nodded. “Your swords will taste Saricon blood. How many men do you have?”
“One thousand and fifty five cavalry. We have some supplies but we are running low.”
“We can help supply you, at least for the time being,” Jarak said confidently. “I do not plan on a long siege.”
“That is good. I hate waiting around. My sword has been idle for too long and my desire for revenge has gnawed at me long enough.”
“Rest assured, Captain. Your sword and your desire for revenge will be appeased.
Captain Fangar smiled.
***
Five days later and Jarak was staring down at the city of Cythera, his army spread out behind him. He stood on the same spot where he, Serix, and Endler had stood six weeks earlier, before they entered the city under the cover of night to meet with Angel. But this time the scene looked much different. Stretched out around the city was a massive Saricon army. They were camped around the city, their white tents almost impossible to see against the snowy backdrop. But their fires flickered brightly, like stars in the shadows of dusk. Now that the second Saricon army had returned from the north, there were too many men to fit them all inside the city. They were now all waiting for them, preparing for the battle they knew was coming.
King Elwyn and his wife approached, looking down at the city with him. “Do you think our plan will work?” King Elwyn asked.
Jarak’s sanguine expression was all too clear. “It will work. It has to. Be ready, we attack three hours before dawn.”
Chapter 10
“What do you think he will do?” Daricon asked.
Tongra Taruk stood next to Daricon along the northern battlements looking up at Jarak’s army. They couldn’t see much from where they stood, but they knew they were there. Jarak’s army was camped high on the hills facing the city. His own army was spread out before him; fifteen thousand Saricons ready to bloody their weapons. They had an additional three thousand inside the city manning the walls and protecting the gatehouses. “Hard to say,” Kahn Taruk said without looking away from the army. “We outnumber him, by all accounts, and we have the walls protecting us. What can he do?”
“If he attacks, our superior numbers should destroy him,” Mylena said, standing next to Daricon.
“Perhaps,” the Tongra replied, barely listening as he was distracted by his own thoughts. At first the Tongra had wanted to take the fight to him, attacking Jarak’s army before they had time to organize. But Daricon had pointed out that they were at an elevated position and it would not bode well for them to march up a snow covered hill to attack. For right now Jarak had the high ground, which meant he would dictate when the attack would come.
“He has proven to be quite resourceful,” Daricon added. “I have no idea how he did it but the thousands of Varga he has with him worry me. They are formidable to say the least.”
“Yes,” Tongra Taruk agreed, “he has been a thorn in my heel for quite some time now. We have lost our mines and the flow of Kul-brite has stopped. But it ends now. I want him dead. I want this resistance dead.” Then he turned at looked pointedly at Daricon. “Do you understand?”
Daricon nodded. “I will kill him myself if it comes to it.”
“I cannot think of anything he can do other than storm the gate head on. If he wants to win this war, he will need to break open the gate. We cannot allow that to happen.”
“We have reinforcements ready beyond the gate and our walls are lined with archers. They'll never get near it,” Daricon promised.
“See to it. Be vigilant. My guess is he will attack at first light.”
***
Four long boats drifted slowly through the calm waters of the bay east of the city, each filled with ten grim faced Dy’ainians, silently advancing close to the docks that branched out from the massive wharf. The east gate was close but they were not headed there. The docks were lined with a large number of boats and ships, a collection of small fishing vessels and larger merchant ships. Anchored further out in the harbor were nearly twenty military ships. It was just past midnight, well into the night, and no one was about. The fishermen and sailors were either sleeping at home or in the bunks of their gently rocking boats at anchor or roped to the docks.
Angling the boats between a set of docks, the lead boat drifted slowly towards the rock bulkhead. The clouds were thick and lazy, forming an impenetrable blanket over the moon and stars. It was a perfect night for stealth. Just ahead of them was a long wall of huge rocks built up along the eastern wall of the city. Slowly, the rowers inched forward, careful not to make any loud splashes in the water that might alert any possible guards at the top of the tall wall. Luckily for them it was dark, and even if the guards along the wall heard something they would probably just attribute it to a splashing fish or other sea animal. Moving forward, the lead boat slowed as it came to a huge metal grate built into the rock wall, which covered a sewer opening that was nearly as tall as a man. As they neared, the smell hit them first, and there was no mistaking the slow river of brown sludge carrying the refuse and excrement of the city from the tunnel, past the grate and into the bay.
In the lead boat were eight of the Dygon guards as well Ardra, Orin, and Aldgar. They tied the boat off to the side of the grate and jumped silently onto the rocks, moving stealthily to the metal grate. The other three boats landed quietly and the forty warriors, after securing the boats, silently made their way across the rocks to the grate to join them.
Orin peered into the grate. “You there?” he whispered.
It was pitch black inside but he heard a shuffle followed by a voice. “Yes. Let me remove the section.”
Orin saw a man step to the grate from the other side, slightly hunched over in the tunnel, and grip a section of the steel. With an easy heave he lifted away a part of the grate. Angel used the entrance on many occasions to smuggle in goods to avoid the taxes. Tonight it would be smuggling in warriors.
The man inside the tunnel was Vorn, Angel’s head of security, and he stepped further away into the darkness as Orin and the others silently climbed through the grate and into the wet foul smelling tunnel. As more men entered they pushed the others further into the darkness. After a few moments a light flared as Vorn lit a torch. Several more torches were lit and handed down the line. The forty warriors, handpicked veterans, shuffled forward through the viscous filth, holding their noses against the smell, and followed Vorn as he led them deeper into the sewers of Cythera. Rats scurried away from them as they turned several times, blindly following Vorn to their next destination.
Meanwhile, Serix had just landed with a slight lack of grace on the roof of the Dy’ainian palace. He was carrying Brant and struggling mightily to keep their combined weight afloat. It was his second trip and he was beginning to ti
re, Brant’s solid bulk making the task even more difficult. He had used up his own mage stone for the fly spell, and so had Jarak. But that was to be expected. From henceforward they would have to rely on Endler to channel energy for their use.
Waiting for them on the roof were Endler, Jarak, and Cat. Jarak had flown Cat to the roof while Serix had brought Endler, leaving quickly and returning shortly with Brant. It was hard to judge the time, but by the looks of it they were still a couple hours from dusk. If Angel had done her part, they would soon be entering the palace.
“She better be there,” Serix whispered to Jarak.
“She will,” he replied softly, his voice all business. “Let’s go.”
Crouching low, they followed Jarak to the edge of the roofline. Peering down Jarak saw the balcony below them. If their plan worked without a hitch, the door would have been unlocked by one of her spies, and waiting for them in the empty guest room would be half a dozen or so Legionnaires, warriors who had signed on to Daricon’s forces but were really Turari spies loyal to Jarak.
Jarak lowered himself over the edge and dropped to the balcony below. He landed with a thud and winced at the noise. The others followed suit as Jarak went to the balcony door. He let out a sigh of relief as the door handle turned and it opened. He walked slowly into the room, his hand on his sword as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“King Jarak.”
The gentle voice came from the far door and several forms stepped from the shadows, followed by the click of a tinderbox and several sparks. Suddenly the small flame of a candle lit up the room. The light was minimal, but in the thick darkness it was startling.
Jayla stood before him and to either side was a guard, both wearing armor of Saricon design with Heln’s red helm gracing the cuirass. All three bowed as Jarak stepped forward. “Jayla, is that you?” he whispered, shocked to see her.
She smiled. “It is I. I will explain later. We must move quickly. Please follow me.”
They followed her out the door and into the hallway where they encountered six more guards outfitted like the others. Lying on the ground and sprawled awkwardly in death, their blood staining the smooth stone floor, were three guards outfitted exactly as the others. “You had trouble?” Jarak whispered to Jayla as she led them down the hall, her men bringing up the rear.
“Yes. We knew we would.”
“How many men here are loyal to me?”
“Besides these eight we have five more.”
Jarak didn’t say anything as she led them to a door. Jarak knew the palace like the back of his hand so he knew the door was an anteroom, and from it branched two other hallways. One of the doors led to more guest rooms and to the stairs going down to the second floor. The other door led to his mother and father’s private chambers. It would be there where they would find Daricon and his Saricon wife, Mylena.
The door was locked and Jayla knocked softly on it two times, followed by a pause, and two more knocks. Within moments the door opened revealing five more guards.
The bodies of three other guards lay on the floor. The guards that faced them appeared tense and alert, with weapons drawn.
“Have you heard anything?” Jayla whispered to the men.
They all shook their heads while a man with curly hair answered. “Nothing yet.”
Jayla faced Jarak. “Beyond this door, as you know, is another hallway that leads to the last anteroom. There will be five more guards stationed there. Beyond that is Daricon’s room.”
“How many guards does he have inside the palace?” Angel had given him an estimate, but he was hoping the guards and Jayla would have a more accurate count.
It was the curly haired guard who answered. “There are fifty Saricons in the barracks. Right now, on duty, besides us and the men we killed, there should be an additional fifteen or so.”
“Listen carefully,” Jarak said. “My men outside the city will not attack until I give them the signal. As we speak we have a small force within the city preparing to attack the east gate. Once I confirm that my uncle is dead, we will join this force at the east gate. I have warriors waiting outside that gate. We will open the east gate and converge on the main gate. It is then I will give the signal to attack. We must get the main gate open if we are to succeed.”
“My King,” the guard said. “They have thousands of Saricons guarding the main gate. How will we break through?”
Jarak smiled. “You let me worry about that.” He didn’t want to tell them he had a thousand Varga warriors waiting outside the east gate. He probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. “Jayla, when Angel told me that she had Daricon’s chef on the inside, I had no idea it was you. Were you successful in your task?”
“I was, but I am unsure if the timing is right. It may not have taken affect by the time we get to him.”
“Well, I think it’s time we find out,” Jarak said. “Brant, Serix, Cat, and Endler, follow me. The rest of you stay here and guard this anteroom. If things go well, we will be back shortly.”
“I’m coming with you,” Jayla said. “I want to see his face.”
“We must hurry,” one of the guards said. “They will be changing shifts soon.”
Jarak nodded, his face grim. “Let’s go.”
Opening the side door quietly, they quickly moved down the dark hallway. There were various solid doors to either side before they came to the anteroom door. Inside would be five guards. Jayla held up a key and everyone gathered her intention.
Jarak leaned in close to Brant. “Take the lead.”
Brant nodded, slowly sliding his sword from its scabbard. Everyone else followed suit and stood behind Jayla, who readied the key at the door. Looking back, she made sure everyone was ready. Brant nodded that he was. She inserted the key quickly and turned it, the lock clicking open sounding unusually loud in the silent hall. Opening the door quickly she stepped aside as Brant rushed in, followed by the others.
Brant pushed aura energy into his limbs and raced in, quickly assessing the room. It was fairly small, with one side lined in bookshelves. There was a table pushed up against the other side along with a small weapons rack. There were three guards in the room. One sat at the table reading a book while the other two leaned back in their chairs near the bookshelf, obviously asleep.
Rushing them with astonishing speed, they did not have a chance. Brant’s blade took the reader in the neck and by the time he spun and dashed across the room, the other two had barely awoken from their dreams before Kul-brite steel cut them down.
“There should be five,” Jayla said as she entered the room.
“Guarding Daricon’s door perhaps?” Cat suggested, her sword held before her.
“Let’s go,” Jarak said, racing to the far door. That door would open into the main hall that led to his father’s wing of the palace. There would be another door that opened into his father’s study, and further down would be the door to their sleeping chambers.
Jarak opened the door and ran down the hallway, which was illuminated by several lanterns hanging from the walls. Two guards stood at attention in front of the door that led to his father’s study. One turned and walked towards them as if he were heading to the anteroom they had just left. Perhaps they had heard Brant’s attack. Either way, when they saw the group run at them, they drew their swords. There was nothing else they could do.
Jarak dispatched the first man with a quick parry followed by a fatal riposte that took the guard in the throat. Racing by the dead guard Jarak engaged the last man. He blocked the guard’s swing, and after several more exchanges, kicked out with his right foot, striking the guard in his chest plate. The stunned warrior slammed into the door behind him, and swinging wildly, frantically tried to take Jarak’s head off. Jarak ducked and rammed his sword into the man’s belly, the angle and power of his thrust pushing the sword through his lungs. The guard grunted and his body deflated, sliding to the floor and leaving a thick sheet of blood streaking the door behind him. Jarak kicked the guar
d to the side and withdrew his blade.
The others stood behind him as Jarak checked the door. It was locked.
“Check the guard,” Jayla said. “He should have the key.”
Jarak squatted next to the dead guard and found the key attached to his belt. Removing it, he stood and unlocked the door. Everyone followed him inside the study, fanning out behind him. Jarak didn’t even stop. He raced to the far door and opened it, running into his mother and father’s old sleeping chambers. The spacious room was dark, with virtually no ambient light from the windows that looked out on a night sky filled with dark and stormy clouds. It was a fitting night for intrigue and death.
Jarak ran to the big canopy bed, and the room became suddenly awash with a white light that clearly illuminated the two forms lying among the disheveled blankets. Serix stepped next to Jarak, his hand holding a glowing sphere of light.
Daricon Dormath lay on his back, his arms and legs splayed at an awkward angle, staring straight up at nothing, his eyes wide open and rimmed in red. Mylena was in a similar position, her body turned almost sideways in the big bed, as if she had tried to crawl away. She was dead, her eyes wide and fixed, blood dripping from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears.
Jarak stepped closer and looked down at his uncle. Daricon’s eyes moved back and forth as he stared up at everyone, but his body remained still and rigid. “What-is-happening to me?” he croaked, the words coming out in a whisper.
Jayla stepped next to Jarak. “You have been poisoned,” she said. “Right now your organs are slowly disintegrating. I’m sure you are feeling an intense amount of pain. Don’t worry, what you are feeling now is nothing compared to what you will be feeling in an hour.”
“I-I-can’t move,” Daricon stammered.
“No, you cannot,” Jayla said. “Another effect of the poison.”
“I wanted to kill you face to face,” Jarak said. “But I was convinced otherwise. It’s fitting don’t you think? After all, you murdered my mother and father with poison. You murdered your own brother. You will die a slow death, just as your Saricon wife did.”
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