Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  “On the contrary. Caydean is chaos without order. He is madness. I am prepared for betrayal because it is dictated by the Rules: 9, 24, 87, 96, 164, and 257.”

  “You are a striker,” Akris said with surprise.

  Rezkin stood and rounded the desk. He met Farson’s gaze before turning to Akris. “Strikers have honor. I do not. Strikers are praised for their service. I am feared. Strikers belong to a brotherhood. I stand alone. Strikers answer to a master. I am the master. Do not mistake me for a striker.”

  Akris said, “You bear a hardness that is difficult to accept in a man so young.”

  “The ship is about to set sail,” said Rezkin. “You kneel and swear fealty or leave. This is the only time I will give you a choice. If you choose the latter, I suggest you remain in Lon Lerésh and accept your new life.”

  Akris looked at Farson and then Shezar. His gaze lingered on the lightning bolt that adorned the black and green tabard. He turned back to Rezkin. “You are shrewd. Queen Erisial may have gotten what she wanted, but I fear that somehow you had the upper hand. You may see betrayal everywhere, but I trust in my brethren and in King Bordran. The fact that I am here speaks to my intention to serve you. I will follow you, and you will take me home.”

  “You do realize, Lord Tieran, that I do not serve you.”

  “Yes, I know that,” said Tieran. His voice was a tad weaker than he would have preferred. “But, you are supposed to serve the king of Ashai. Rezkin is the true king. Since his Rez has not been trained, you must serve him.”

  Connovan tilted his head in a manner eerily similar to the way Rezkin did. “That is an interesting tale you weave; but, even if that were true, it does not explain why I should do this for you.”

  “I am Rezkin’s heir.”

  “But not the king.”

  “Look, Tam is important to Rezkin. If he were here, he would want you to do it.”

  Connovan chuckled. “If this Tam is important to him, then Rezkin would probably not want me anywhere near him.”

  “I concede the point, but we need to find Tam. He is Rezkin’s best friend.”

  “Is that what he tells everyone? The Rez has no friends.”

  Tieran gritted his teeth. “Rezkin is more than the Rez. He is not you.”

  “Oh, that one is far worse.”

  Tieran paced behind the desk. He stopped to stare at the disturbing painting and then looked back at the most feared assassin in the world. “Tam has only been apprenticing with him for a few months. He cannot fend for himself—”

  “This Tam is Rezkin’s apprentice?”

  Tieran paused. Connovan’s sudden interest triggered equal amounts of hope and concern. “Yes,” he said slowly, “he has been training him—well, since they met.”

  “What does he teach this Tam?”

  “Fighting, swordplay,” said Tieran. “Other things, too. He makes him read everything we have to read. Tam complains about the boring subjects, and I cannot say I blame him. That is the whole reason we are in this mess.” He pointed to his temple. “I told you about the hole in his mind. If we don’t get him back soon, he’ll die.”

  The Rez looked at him and grinned. “Tell me about Tamarin Blackwater.”

  Tieran suddenly worried that he had made a mistake.

  On the eleventh day, the sun was well on its way to the horizon as they entered the Straight of Bourdony. They hoped to be back on the Souelian Sea by nightfall. The massive sails were full, and the mages lined the deck to speed their progress. The captain had explained that the surface waters of the Bourdony always flowed eastward into the bay, so escaping was a task. After more than a week out of Kielen, Frisha had finally found her voice.

  “How could you?” she hollered.

  “Would you care to discuss this privately?” said Rezkin, glancing around them. The crewmen and passengers were staring.

  “What does it matter?” she said. “They all know. You married her! You had just gotten through telling me you would probably never marry, if not for me, and you go and marry her!”

  “Again, Leréshi marriages are not recognized outside of Lon Lerésh.”

  “It doesn’t matter! You did it. You signed the papers. You participated in the ceremony. You—you spent the night with her! She is your wife.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, always with the lies! Stop lying and admit it!”

  Rezkin glanced over to see Coledon watching them along with everyone else. He waved the man over and said, “Please explain to her why I cannot do what she asks.”

  Coledon crossed his wrists and bowed to Frisha. “Lady Frisha, the king does not refuse in an attempt to deceive you. It is true that Leréshi marriages and claimings are not recognized by the other kingdoms unless the man recognizes it outside of Lon Lerésh.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Frisha with a pout.

  “If our king is in Lon Lerésh, he may speak of the marriage freely. Once he has left Lon Lerésh, he may never speak of it unless he wishes for it to be recognized. If he acknowledges her as his wife even once while he is out of Lon Lerésh, the marriage becomes valid.”

  Frisha glanced at Rezkin. “How would anyone know?”

  Coledon said, “The ceremony contains a spell.”

  “Ritual magic?” said Wesson.

  Coledon nodded, “You do not need to be a mage to perform it. If he acknowledges the marriage, he will be marked and married in truth. It is why he asked me to explain it to you. It would be too easy to slip, and it is difficult to tell what the spell would interpret as recognition of the marriage.”

  Frisha looked to Wesson. “But spells don’t work on him. You said so.”

  Wesson said, “Do you really want to test it?”

  “No,” she said rather quickly. She looked back to Coledon. “So, he’s really not married?”

  Coledon shook his head. “Not outside of Lon Lerésh.” Then, he said, “I do not understand. I had heard that you released your claim on him, and you did not claim him at the palace. Please, Lady Frisha, tell me why you are upset so that I may help to remedy it.”

  Frisha blinked at him through watery lashes. “I-I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t make any sense.” She glanced around and flushed upon noticing all the people watching her.

  Coledon’s expression turned sad. “Sometimes a matria does not want a man as consort, but she does not want anyone else to have him either.”

  Frisha’s eyes widened. “Oh no! That’s horrible. Of course, I want him to be happy. I would never—” She stopped abruptly as if she had just come to a realization. She turned her mahogany gaze on him. Rezkin said nothing, but he hoped that she finally understood why he could not do as she asked.

  He glanced over at Yserria and said, “Where is Malcius?”

  “I believe he and Brandt are in their quarters.”

  “Please fetch him,” he said.

  Yserria saluted, but her expression soured as she stepped away. Rezkin jumped when something suddenly latched onto his leg, its claws digging into his calf. He glanced down to see an orange-eyed cat staring up at him, its ears laid flat, and its teeth bared. It hissed, then yowled as it released him and shot across the deck. He looked out to sea, but there was nothing.

  “Prepare for battle,” he shouted. People stared at him in confusion, and he shouted again, “All hands prepare for battle!”

  A sudden impact on the starboard side caused the ship to nearly capsize. It listed so far that water sloshed over the railing. Everything not secured to the deck went tumbling toward the sea. Rezkin crashed into an invisible wall just as his feet left the deck, and then Wesson sailed into him. They tumbled into the other side of the ward as the ship righted itself, bobbing in the other direction. Shouts and horn blasts sounded as the ship rocked. Rezkin looked around for Frisha and was glad to see that Coledon had hold of her, and he and Shezar were trying to pull her into the cabin.

  Wesson dropped the hastily made ward and was immediately catapulted in
to the air as something again collided with the ship. He lashed out with a tendril of power, securing himself to the deck as he tumbled. He had never cast the spell before but had seen Xa wield it against Rezkin once. Rezkin had managed to remain aboard but was tossed into the air with the next collision. To Wesson’s surprise, he reached out and grabbed the tendril as if it were a rope of substance and not raw power.

  People were shouting that men had been thrown overboard, while others hollered about a sea monster, but Wesson and Rezkin could not see anything from where they lay clinging to the rocking deck.

  Rezkin shouted, “Can you make this rope into a net? Can you cover the deck with it?”

  Wesson thought quickly about the spell, trying to modify it in his mind to meet Rezkin’s needs. “Yes, I think so. I do not know how long I can hold it, and you will be the only one who can touch it. Not even I can grab this,” he said as he waved his hand through the tendril to no effect.

  “Do it. There, to the mainmast,” Rezkin said.

  Wesson wove the net of power across the deck, and Rezkin grabbed hold of it. He got to his hands and feet and climbed across it as the ship rocked. Men and objects went sliding past, oblivious and unaffected by the net. Once Rezkin reached the mast, he grabbed hold of an actual rope, and Wesson dropped the spell. After tossing one end of a line to Wesson, Rezkin pulled the mage toward him. They both looked out across sea but too late. A massive tentacle whipped through the air, smashing through the mainmast. Wesson kept his grip on the rope and was jerked across the deck as the mast fell. His motion stopped when he slammed against the railing, and he glanced back to see that Rezkin had disappeared.

  Wesson scrambled to his feet, securing his boots to the deck of the ship with tendrils of power. As the ship was jarred, he caught sight of Mage Threll at the bow lobbing a fireball at something he was unable to see from his vantage. Climbing over ropes and anything secured to the ship, he reached her just as a monstrous creature reared out of the water. Its tough, bluish-red skin was slick around the giant black eye that stared at him right before it lifted its enormous tentacles. Beneath the flailing appendages was a gaping maw filled with row after row of razor sharp spikes protruding from pink flesh.

  His heart threatened to burst from his chest as the spikes descended toward them. Mage Threll cast a spiral wave of flame into the creature’s maw. The thing stalled and released a screech infused with a putrid wind but resumed its attack. Wesson knew the end was upon them, and for once permitted a trickle of the macabre joy at his core to breach the surface. He chuckled with mirth as he wove an unfamiliar spell of fire and nocent energy. A thrill drove through him as he cast the dark power. It spread from a single point, an oily black sphere the size of his fist, and each sphere thereafter splitting again and again. The swarm of black spheres struck the sea monster, some sailing past then turning to accost it from the rear. The blobs splattered against the creature’s slippery skin and stuck like molasses. Then, they began to sizzle. The creature screamed and its massive tentacles flailed as its skin bubbled and popped in acrid pustules. Wesson laughed uncontrollably as Mage Threll watched in horror.

  “No!” she screamed, as she reached into the air.

  Wesson’s laughter died when he spied the source of her distress. There, wrapped in a colossal tangle of tentacles, was Rezkin. His sword gleamed in the golden-red light of the setting sun as he struggled to free himself from the giant’s grasp. Then, he was plunged beneath the frothy waves as the creature dove into the darkening water.

  Mage Threll began weaving a spell that Wesson had never seen used in such a way, a web that spiraled outward from the ship and then sunk into the water.

  “There,” she said, pointing at the deck. “They’re beneath the ship. We must do something!”

  Before Wesson could respond, the ship began to rise, the hull lifting free of the water high enough to send a shock wave through them when it crashed back down. Wesson and Mage Threll both collided with the deck and then tumbled into wall that supported the quarterdeck. Wesson looked up at the orange sky and blinked until all the images of a broken mast and sails became one.

  His heart leapt as tentacles suddenly surged across the deck. The monster wrapped itself around the ship, and Wesson saw that one of the sinuous appendages ended abruptly in a pulsating amputation that spewed an acrid goo over the planks. He was alarmed that Rezkin was once again missing. Wesson sat up, and just as his head stopped spinning, the warrior came tumbling over the railing on the far side of the deck. Rezkin’s chest heaved as he tried to fill his lungs while pulling himself to his feet. He pointed, his sword fisted in a white-knuckled grip, and met Wesson’s gaze. He hollered something and then ran across the deck, picking up speed until he took flight, propelling himself from the railing onto the creature’s blistered, foaming head.

  Wesson played the image over in his mind, trying to figure out what Rezkin had said. There, in front of him, for the briefest moment, it was as if the wind took shape. An unexpected gust smacked into him, and he heard it, Rezkin’s words carried on the wind.

  “The ships! Demon on the ships!”

  His heart pounding, Wesson turned and nearly tripped over Mage Threll. He helped her to her feet, grabbed her arm, and ran dragging her toward the rail. Two silhouettes stood out against the light of the setting sun.

  “The ships,” he said to Mage Threll. “Rezkin thinks a demon is among them. It must be controlling the sea creature. If we do not destroy the demon, the sea monster will continue to attack no matter how much damage we inflict upon it.”

  She said, “You saw him? He is alive, thank the Maker.”

  “You did not?” he said, finally looking at her. That was when he noticed the bloodied matt of hair on one side of her head. Her eyes were unfocused, and she swayed on her feet. “Sit down,” he said. “Hold on to this rope so you do not fall overboard.”

  As she slumped to the deck, Wesson glanced across the angry waves and saw that Rezkin was clinging to a sword buried deep in the creature’s hide while he hacked at the beast with a smaller blade. Then, Wesson looked to the two ships. Their sails were stowed, and they had not closed any distance.

  “They are holding back,” he mumbled, just as the monster grabbed Rezkin and flung him into the air. Rezkin crashed into the frothy water, and the creature turned in pursuit. “He is only buying us time,” Wesson said.

  He felt sick as the laughter bubbled inside him. He held his breath and then exhaled as he allowed the mirth to ascend. His heart danced to the symphony of destruction that sang within his mind as a spell, bred of chaos, shimmered in the air before him. He grinned, and the thrill of it pressed him into a fit of giggles. Finally, he whipped his hands forward, and he shouted. It was a terrible sound, a sound of anguish and desire. A silent wave of dark energy cut a scar across the water toward the farthest ship. He could see its crew scrambling, as if it might do them some good. Wards began rising along the ship’s bow, and Wesson’s laughter grew.

  The dark wave did not collide with the wards or the ship. It shot straight through the hull with no apparent effect. Wesson released another breath. In that instant, the ship imploded, everything within crushed by a might force. When the compression reached a maximum, it exploded in a fiery ball of molten debris that rained ash and glass down upon the second ship. Wesson delighted in the wails of pain and fear that reached his ears on a hot wind. He raised his hands to dispatch the second ship, but his arm was pulled down by a firm grip.

  Mage Threll used him to draw her weight upward until she was standing beside him. Her face was pale as she wearily pointed toward the frothy water nearer the ship. The sea monster’s tentacles had gone slack, and it listed to one side before sinking slowly into the depths. Rezkin floated in the water for a moment, facing the star-speckled, dusky sky, and then he began swimming toward the ship.

  Wesson glanced back at the other ship. A gleeful smile threatened at his lips, but he wrapped it tightly with his will and pushed it deep into the d
ungeon from which it had sprung. It was a struggle, and part of him wanted to let it go, but Mage Threll’s firm grip kept him anchored. Then, the aftermath struck him. He heaved into the water as a cry escaped him. He looked at the evidence of his destruction. Where once dozens of men and women had lived, stood nothing but debris. He knew it was unlikely they would find bodies. They would have been crushed and vaporized, leaving behind no evidence that they had existed. Wesson slumped to the ground and buried his head in his hands as he sobbed.

  Rezkin grabbed hold of the rope ladder someone had thrown down to him. He dragged himself aboard and stood tall, despite his fatigue. He still felt as if he were fighting for breath beneath the water, but he could not allow the others to witness his physical distress. His sodden armor was heavy after the long battle, and he had lost Kingslayer, but the monster was gone. Rezkin spied Captain Estadd at the helm barking orders. Others scrambled out of his way as he pushed away from the railing and tromped across the deck. They were like ants in a frenzy after someone had stomped their mound, except in one location. Journeyman Wesson sat on the deck with his head buried in his lap, and everyone was giving him a wide berth.

  Gazing across the water, Rezkin saw the trail of debris that had once been a ship, and he understood. He glanced at Wesson and then waved to Captain Estadd. He said, “Light the flame.”

  “What does that mean?” said Mage Threll, who sat beside Wesson, eyeing him warily.

  Shezar, who had felt it necessary to hurry over to inspect him, answered in his stead. “They have raised the flag of surrender. We are accepting.”

  Mage Threll said, “Our ship is in pieces. I am currently holding a ward over a hole in the hull right below us. If it is not repaired before I run out of energy, we will sink. Why would they surrender to us?”

  “The second ship has been destroyed,” said Shezar. “The first is concerned that we will do the same to them.” His gaze landed on Wesson. “I doubt anyone has ever seen a ship so thoroughly decimated, and in a single attack, no less.”