In the days before the Ten Kingdoms of the north, the magi ruled with the power of kings. Their harnessing of the strength of the gods served as both blessing and curse, for any power, no matter how good of intention, can have dire consequences.
The guard waited on Cedric at the door and sent word that Lafayette had requested his presence in his private chambers. Led along a long and narrow hallway, Cedric had arrived at the portion of the palace dedicated to the commanders and political figures residing at the castle. They were smaller rooms compared to the noble houses of Lorine but did not lack in amenities and decadence. Lafayette rested by a roaring fire in his study, along the walls and floors, vibrant and colorful rugs from the far south decorated his room. Upon his lap, he read from The Parmacathen, the first book his mother had ever received as payment. On each page were detailed inscriptions and images of proper combat techniques, from the grip on certain blades to the best form. Lafayette had read from this and many other books on the codes of chivalry all his life, and they guided his journey to First Marshall of Lorine.
“Good that we can finally speak privately Cedric, it has been far too long.” Lafayette said as the two shook hands and poured glasses of ale. They reclined in the cushioned chairs of the study and drank freely, reminiscing about their days together at the royal court.
“What do you think of this terrible mess Lafayette? How can we even begin to comprehend what powers are at play here?” Cedric said as he gazed into the fireplace, his eyes consumed by the image of the burning wood.
Lafayette thought for a long time before answering. “We must take it as it comes, if we fail here, it will spell disaster for the whole of the world.” Lafayette leaned forward and gave Cedric the most important piece of advice he could think of. “Trust only those you know, to be honest, Azrael is one for trickery, and I would not doubt his servants infest this city. That wizard, Gaspar, he’s an odd fellow that is known to all, humph, wizards and their towers, but I suppose he can be relied on. I must ask, how are you holding up?”
“It seems as though there is nothing to hope for. First Orford, now this talk of demons and kings, it is more than one man can handle. But that is why I can handle it, I’m not alone in this.” Cedric hopped up and hoped to ease the tension of the situation. “How could we possibly lose with the illustrious Lafayette de Sailes, the First Marshall of Lorine, the lover of every maiden, the drinker of every wine? By the gods, we’ll starve Azrael, his minions will realize what a party it is on our side and simply surrender.”
The two shared this laugh together as they spent the night drinking, it would be for the last time for many months that merriment and drink would be shared by these two at the palace of Wulfstan.
“Excuse me, my lords.” The strange knight from the previous day was at the door, standing at attention. “I would wish to speak with the Seer in private.” Lafayette nodded and left the room, taking an extra bottle of wine with him.
The knight kneeled before Cedric, his blade in his hands and the tip stuck on the ground. Though it was rather warm, he still wore his long sleeves, with thick gloves. He spoke words of oath taking and honor. “My lord, forgive my display yesterday, it was rude of me to subject you to such an outburst.”
Cedric sat confused. “You are forgiven, it was no concern at all my dear sir…’
The knight raised his hand for Cedric to pause. “My lord I am Amalric, commander of Telfrost Keep and Knight-Sergeant of the Order of the Eternal Dawn. I am bound to your will my lord, by the Oath of the Sword, I swear it.” He bowed his head in respect.
“I’m afraid I have no commands for you, Amalric,” Cedric said as he sat there stunned by Amalric’s display.
Amalric rubbed again at his arms, which clearly were in pain of some sort. “My lord I shall ride to Telfrost, and alert the knights of your appearance. We are sworn to the Seer, and when they hear of you, the Dawn shall finally break across the sea.” He turned and rushed out of the room, practically sprinting for the stables.
Lafayette poked his head into the chamber, smiling awkwardly and holding a half-empty bottle of unmixed wine.
Cedric looked around confused and questioned Lafayette. “Err…who exactly was that?”
Lafayette reclaimed his seat and poured another glass for his friend. “That was Amalric of Telfrost, diplomat, knight, philosopher…and a leper.” Cedric quickly wiped the smile from his face. “Strange fellow, no doubt about it. Most lepers keep to themselves, but not this one, think he tried to convince himself he isn’t one. Instead of being cooped in his hall, wasting away, he took up a wooden sword and began hacking at a straw figure in the courtyard, and hasn’t stopped since.”
That night in his rest, Cedric was once more haunted by the visions of the Tree of Life, again he heard and saw the killing of the ram. Hooded men defiled the sacred grove of the gods, spilling and spraying the blood of the innocent ram like dew upon the grass. In the grove, a fire burned a list of one thousand names in the charred dirt, and Azrael and his ten-fingered crown stood triumphant over the tree of life. Next came visions of blood upon a great battlefield, with once-proud banners of men, brought low and smeared in ash and dirt. Around Cedric, the grassy field vanished, now the ground was composed of the dead of Lorine. Brave men lay around him, their eyes lifeless with skin as cold as winter’s nights. People would look upon these days and say, here stands the end of Lorine.
Chapter 13
The List
The next morning, as the sun greeted the slumbering city, Cedric was awoken to a sharp rasp upon his door. As he looked around the room, he saw that all his companions had already risen, eaten, and gone out. For the first time in many days, Cedric rested well, and the dark circles around his eyes had faded in his sleep. Again, there came a loud knock on the door.
It was none other than Gaspar, looking nervous and frantic as he entered the room before Cedric even had a chance to say good morning. Upon the wizard’s back, there was a traveling pack and a wooden staff in his hands, along with a water sack slung on his shoulder. He stood darting a neurotic look at each empty bed as if trying to will that their owners would appear in the room to hear his news.
“We must leave this city, as soon as possible,” Gaspar said as he began gathering Cedric’s things for him, stacking his sword and other items in the noble’s hands. “I stayed in the libraries of Stormwatch for all of the night researching Azrael. There was no mention of where he would arrive from, but there was a constant bit of information found throughout each tome I scrolled through. In each book, the blade of Adalgott, Geanlaecan, is the only blade able to slay Azrael, or at the least send him back to the realm of his master. Normally the magi would have a record of such a powerful artifact, but that was lost to history. When Adalgott grew ripe in age, he left his court by himself and wandered through Midland and possibly all the way to his ancestral home of Belfas, if we are to stop Azrael we will need to find Adalgott’s final resting place, where we will most assuredly find Geanlaecan. The book, the one you saw traded at Arazor? It is the Codex Deadhraegl, the book forged by Beelzus, the demon of plague and dark magic. I believe this book holds the secrets to summoning forth Azrael. Now that we know it is in the hands of the Magus, we shall need to find and deal with that wicked necromancer. I have heard rumors of dark magic residing in the Red Marsh, just south of the Knights of the Eternal Dawn in Midland. This shall be a most difficult task, but if we fail the whole of the North shall fall to kneel before Azrael.”
Cedric sat down; his mind was racing from the words spoken to him. He sat in silence for some time before speaking. This was not a decision to be made lightly. “If you truly think this is our best path to defeating Azrael, I’ll summon those who accompanied me from Orford. I must speak to the king on some important business before we go. We shall meet in the Great Hall when we have gathered all our things.” Cedric took a long look at the restless wizard before him. “Try to get some rest before we go.”
Cedric entered the garden once more, as the ki
ng was taking a midday rest from the weary work of the court. This time he held a glass of wine in his hand and a flower trimmer in the other. “So good of you to come, Cedric, come, keep a poor old man company.” Cedric sat next to his former mentor and began to dictate his decision.
“I still do not know if the blood of a king runs through me, but I shall try, for you, and for all who rely on me. But I must tell you now, I will see this task of slaying Azrael to its end. He has taken one friend from me already, and I shall not allow another to fall while my blade can still be held.” Cedric kneeled before the king and drew his sword. “By the oaths like that of our ancient codes of knights, I swear to you this, I shall slay Azrael as a man, not as a king.”
Oswine slowly reeled backward in his seat, stroking his gray beard. At last, he smiled and told his loyal lord to rise, “you do me a great honor Cedric. Furthermore, you honor your father and these lands. I hope you will have time for the vigil tonight. We cannot forget the Blessing of Cinder, if you decide to leave before then, I shall pray for your safe journey.” The old man gave another smile as Cedric hurried off, blessed in his quest to save the whole of the North.
Cedric met his friends, Alfnod, Eadwine, Aderyn, and Beorn at the refugee homes for the people of Orford. Though their journey had been hard and many had felt great sorrow in the past days, they kept high spirits, for they were finally safe within the walls of Wulfstan.
We’ll need to head out today. If we can find this blade, we can stop Azrael once he’s returned, cut his head off before he can even get it through the door. I know you’ve all shared in battle with me, but I would not ask this of you if you are unwilling.” He stood with his arms crossed, fearing that some would be reluctant to go.
Alfnod approached first. “For Galdwin.” He said as he patted Cedric’s shoulder and took his place by his side. Aderyn came forward next with a silent nod of approval. Eadwine sat smoking on a pile of boxes and jumped forward with his response. “I suppose we can’t go letting yourself get all the credit for this story, and someone needs to be by your side to tell it properly when we get back.”
Beorn remained sitting, giving a slight smile as his companions left to gather their things, leaving only him and Cedric present in the room. Cedric responded with his own smile and spoke. “You know I would not ask this of you unless I knew I needed your help. You’ve got more of a life here than any of the others, I will not hold it against you if you decide to stay.” Cedric could tell his friend was at a serious crossroads. “To be honest with you Beorn, I don’t know if I would go.” Beorn looked at his dear friend, surprised by his bluntness. “But that’s why I need you there, why I need all of you there. I cannot do this alone.”
Beorn looked down and weighed his options, taking his time before looking his friend in the eyes and giving his response. “It would be wrong to do anything else.” He said as he placed his hand on Cedric’s shoulder and the two smiled happily. The group made ready, and the path was set, through Midland and Belfas their journey would take them, to uncover the mysterious resting place of Adalgott. As they made their final preparations, Cedric left to speak with the king when a royal guardsman suddenly stopped him at the door.
Cedric approached the guard at the door and was promptly told his presence at the city prison was needed. Gaspar gave an annoyed look but knew the matter had to be of grave importance, so he allowed it. There at the jail, Cedric found Olaf, the constable of Wulfstan, standing anxiously by the entrance to the dungeon while twirling his large set of keys. He was a tall man, with a great yellow beard beneath sunken and serious eyes.
“Thank the gods. We have a matter of urgency here.” The man of the law leaned towards Cedric and whispered. “It has been made known to me that there is a plot against the king’s life.”
Cedric was both surprised and not. He knew that Azrael’s growing influence on these lands would have dire consequences, but he expected that he would have more time to prepare. Cedric responded in a grave voice. “How did you come by this information?”
“Follow me,” Olaf said as he motioned with his head towards the door to the dungeon. They descended a broad flight of mossy stone steps, entering a darker and deeper part of the prison of Wulfstan. It was a damp and cold place, where it appeared as if a great storm had just doused each stone. At last, they came to a small door surrounded by a full fighting force of guards, all nervously huddled around the door but were quickly snapped into formation as Olaf and Cedric approached. Turning the key while leaving the door closed, Olaf gave a word of warning to the noble. “Don’t get too close to him, don’t know what game he’s playing at.”
There in the small dimly light room, a man sat with his feet propped on a wooden table. The only source of light in the chamber was a burning candle on the table, which reflected across the man’s pale and grim face which appeared now as a grim reaper or skeleton. His eyes were a shade of green, with dark rings around his sockets. A black cowl covered his hair, and the rest of his outfit consisted of black leather and a thick dark cloak, shadowing much of his body. In his hand, he spun a dagger, well hidden from the guards as he was stripped of his weapons when they searched him. This display did not amuse Olaf. The man sat spinning this stiletto all the while keeping a steady eye on Cedric, who showed no sign of fear in his face. The dark figure was in an intense stare with the noble and had a slight smile showing on only one side of his mouth.
“It is in the nature of men to be afraid.” The hooded man spoke, breaking some of the tension that permeated the room.
“I am not afraid of you,” Cedric responded quickly, as he took a seat at the table opposite this mysterious figure.
“Everyone is afraid. The trick is being able to conceal it at the proper time, for there’s a time for every emotion in this cruel world.” The dark clad man leaned forward across the table, practically contacting Cedric’s face. “Because right now you should be afraid, not of me, but of what I know.
“And what is it that you know?”
“That someone in this city is going to slay your king.”
Cedric and Olaf both looked at each other, unsure of how to proceed with the stranger in front of them. Cedric decided to speak first. “Why don’t you start with your name? I’m Cedric Throne.”
“I know very well who the both of you are, why do you think I asked specifically for you two? Only ones I either trust or feel aren’t too daft to understand the malevolent forces at play here. My name’s Leopold, but you know me better as the Butcher of Kruithia, The Shadow of Boleslav, The Terror of Torvir…”
“You’re an assassin?” Cedric said, knowing the answer to his question
Leopold smiled and motioned a salute with his finger. “Here’s someone with a little common sense. Aye, I’ve killed noblemen from the coldest winter of Belfas to the green meadows of Essaroth, but not anymore. Well…not the killing thing…rather, the doing it for a lump of gold.”
“But why, tell us, what’s your goal here?” Cedric asked.
“We’ll leave it at a change of conscience, at least for now. If there are not more stupid questions, we must not waste any more precious time, something your king is running out of. Captain, be a friend and fetch a pen and paper, I shall give my record of events. It began when I was given contract by a messenger that a noble in Wulfstan requested my presence, I was given a note which demanded I met with him at the Grey Swan Inn, a tavern known for its shady and backward dealings. Along with this letter, I was given five hundred gold pieces, payment for simply hearing the contract from my mysterious benefactor. When I arrived, the fool gave me his official house seal, as the form of proof he was a noble, of which I did not care. He presented me with the offer of ten thousand gold pieces in exchange for the life of King Oswine, I was no fool to deny a bloodthirsty noble, and so I agreed and went on my way, with no intention of truly murdering the king. And now gentlemen, we find ourselves here, the minute before the storm strikes.” He pulled from his pocket another concealed item,
a small pendant, with the symbol of the Red Fox.
Olaf laughed at the sight of this. “You truly are a fool, thinking you can deceive us? Make us believe that house Arrington would dare such diabolical and deplorable act? I shall have the torturer in here momentarily; perhaps he will enjoy your stories more than I.”
Cedric grabbed the captain’s hand and motioned to hold as he turned to face Leopold, who sat unimpressed by Olaf’s choice of action. “Perhaps we should take this matter into a more serious account. If this man claims to be who he is, he has no reason but the one he has stated to turn himself into our prison. If we fail to act now, it could have dire repercussions. Olaf, double the guard on the king, begin patrolling around the palace with every available footman. Leopold and I shall speak more on the matter of the guilty noble.” Olaf changed his skeptic tone, and obeyed, calling for the guards at the door to follow him to the palace.
Cedric quickly turned back to his prisoner, who was now smiling. “Where is this noble who ordered you to kill the king?”
“In the city, not far from here. Gather your friends Cedric; we will need all the help we can muster for I fear this night’s work has only just begun.” The assassin said as he gathered his things from a nearby table, mostly consisting of daggers and poisons.
Cedric collected his companions along with Leopold and met outside the townhouse of the noble. Each of them gave an untrusting look at the newest member of their party, who acted as if he did not see them as he smiled off into the distance.
Leopold spoke, “he’s here, hasn’t left since the morning, just like I left him. When we enter, don’t kill him.” He raised an eyebrow at Beorn. “We need him alive, as to unveil the fullness of this conspiracy, for I fear and know this man is not acting alone.”
They barged into the small estate; it was a typical Wulfstan design, a two-floored building, with a small inside. The whole of the structure was of carved wood, with a great stone fireplace as its heat, much in akin to the house of Cedric’s family. The house smelled of fine roses and roasted meats, as any noble house of Wulfstan. At the dining table, just on the opposite side of the room from the entrance, the noble sat eating his dinner, with half a bite of an exotic meat stuck in his mouth as he froze from the sudden entrance of unwanted guests. He immediately recognized his paid killer and turned a bright red. All his companions stood while Cedric took a seat at the table opposite to the benefactor of Leopold.
The Sword to Unite Page 8