“I suppose you’ll want us to leave you with your meal, no worries this will not take much time,” Cedric said, offering a friendly smile as he loosened a dagger hidden in his boot, it was unseen to the nervous man in front of him due to the table.
The man attempted to smile but could not as he was so struck with fear as his sweat dripped onto the wood of the table. “I…I assure you everything is in order here… Who are you?”
“My associates and I are merely trying to understand some things; this doesn’t have to get hostile…” Cedric said this as the man attempted to leap across the table for his kitchen knife currently lodged in a roasted piece of meat that appeared like beef. Cedric quickly raised his hidden dagger and pinned the man’s left hand to the table with the sharp blade. He screamed in agony as Cedric left the table, allowing Leopold, who was still smiling, to sit.
“You aren’t in command of this little coup; it’s obvious that you have not the resources for such a feat. Why don’t you tell us who your master is, let this go nice and smooth, perhaps the headsman won’t even execute you.” Leopold spoke, he twirled and folded his hands on the table as he spoke.
The pinned noble’s face turned red with pure hate, gone was his nervous disposition and in its place, a primordial rage of a rat backed into a corner. “Hail Crassus!” He said as he once more leaped across the table, this time at Leopold’s throat. Alfnod gutted the noble as he and Leopold slid across the table and he was dead before even reaching the ground. Leopold sat gasping at his neck as the rest of the party began looking for any evidence of Cult of Crassus Baal. Behind an ornamental table, a small wooden switch was carved into the wall, and as Cedric pressed on it, the wall gave way, revealing a hidden basement.
Cedric felt a rush of cold and stale air as he descended the steps with his companions. At the end of their march, they discovered a room, filled with all manner of things dedicated to the demon lord Crassus Baal. Upon the walls, foul Banners of the Rat, a commoner’s identification of the Lord of Tricks, were strung up. On a center table, a poor beggar’s corpse had been severely mutilated; his bones had been ripped from his body and placed in a basket, while his prime slices of meat had been removed.
Cedric felt vomit in his mouth at this sight. Gaspar cried out, “By the gods, it was not a roasting beef we smelled and savored!”
Aderyn and Eadwine walked over to a strange obelisk, where magical runes had been carved many millennia ago, before the time when the races of Man, Elf, and Thyrs walked upon the land.
Cedric found a most peculiar parchment on the same table that housed the dead man; it was of a fine grade with names carefully written in a blooded ink pen. Upon it, a great list of officers and lords of Lorine were etched, Oswine, Egbert, Lafayette…the list continued, striking its vile hate against all those most valuable to the survival of the kingdom. Cedric saw one name missing from the list, one who would be more valuable than any other leader on the list save the king. “Why is William Arrington not on this list? Why would they save him from this hated scribbling?”
Leopold spoke, confirming the forming thought in Cedric’s mind. “A benefactor to orchestrate an operation like this, it makes sense that someone with that much authority is behind it. If these men die, only House Arrington would be left in power, ha, Crassus Baal loves making his little deals. If this is true we must act quickly, focus on saving these on the list. I shall hasten to the homes of Arrington, and make them feel swift retribution like I am the angel of death himself.” With that Leopold ran up the stairs, his daggers in hand prepared to strike out against the foes of the king.
Cedric’s mind was an absolute whirlwind as he spoke. “We must hasten to Lafayette, the king’s guard shall protect him for now, and even if he lives the kingdom will fall without the military tact of Lafayette. Beorn and Aderyn with me, Eadwine and Alfnod, see to it that Egbert and the other councilors on this list are kept safe!”
Chapter 14
Blood in the Water
With a ferocious speed, Cedric and his two companions tore down the streets of Wulfstan in search of Lafayette. First, they passed by the houses of ill repute in the poorer districts of the city, where the proud Marshall often stuck his head for the small comfort of company. Finding no trace of him there, they rushed towards the bathhouses of Wulfstan. The bathhouses were a leftover mark from the time when the Nacian Empire ruled over the North. They were a spectacle to the villagers and townsfolk who passed through the city. With great beams and pillars of stone making up the walled exterior, and high copper doors adorned with ancient tales of the gods and man. As they entered, a rush of hot steamed contacted their faces, and the perfumes and incenses inside billowed out in great clouds of air. It appeared as though the bathhouse was empty, save the muffled sounds of faint laughter. They continued their way through the bathhouse until they finally found Lafayette, bathing, drinking, and laughing with the most loyal of his captains of the army.
Cedric greeted him with a glare of despair at first but soon noticed many clothed men, armed with daggers and Billy clubs approaching. They wore the uniforms of the guards of Arrington and Lahyrst, they appeared brutish and outnumbered Lafayette and Cedric’s groups. Cedric quickly picked up a small letter opener next to the bath and shoved it in his sleeve. He smiled at Lafayette mouthing the words. “They are here to kill you.” He had repeated this three times before the thugs came too close. Lafayette grew tense as his captains too sharpened their senses, made dull by drink and merriment.
They appeared as relaxed as any other man and called to Lafayette, speaking politely. The largest of them had a freshly shaved head and rivaled Beorn in size and strength, on the skirt of his tunic there were splatters of blood. He had the look of death fixated in his cold eyes as he approached and nodded at Lafayette as any loyal soldier would. “Lord Arrington requests your presence; it shall not take long.” He said, still holding to his façade of amiable disposition. He had now approached and stood above the bath directly next to Cedric.
Lafayette smiled as the rest of his captains nervously darted their eyes between their commander and the men sent to kill them. Lafayette drank the last of his sweet wine, either to steady his nerves for battle or to prepare his soul for rest, of which he did not know. Cedric’s heart beat like a bellowing drum as he reached for a towel and spoke to Lafayette. “Here my lord.” His voice was shaking and trembling with each word as he stuck the letter opener to the inside of the towel, its gleaming metal showed only to Lafayette.
As Lafayette rose from the steaming bath, he reached for the towel, still holding on to his veil of politeness. When the dagger had been carefully placed in his hand, he went for the throat of the bloodied one, driving it hard and fast through his gullet, soiling the rest of his clothing in the red liquid. The dead thug’s companions were quick to respond, drawing their clubs and blades upon Cedric and Lafayette. Aderyn was swift, driving her blade into the back of one standing near her.
Lafayette’s captains had too now risen from the bath amidst the chaotic scene, grabbing candlesticks and dinner knives as their only defense for their unarmored bodies. Cedric was tackled to the ground and felt the cold sting of steel run its path through his lower side; it was his mistake not to have been aware of his surroundings.
Beorn saw this and made short work of the thug who occupied him, snapping his neck in one fell strike, and quickly rushed to the aid of Cedric, tearing the spine of his foe in two with a great swing of his axe. Bloodied and exhausted, Cedric’s allies rested on the floor of the bathhouse, taking a survey of the newly painted floors and walls. The adjacent pools were now filled with a thick wave of blood, each previously whitened and cleaned towel had now been soaked to the core. Cedric’s face was covered with blood which was still spurting from the dead corpses around them. Cedric stood first, stumbling for a few steps but found support on the hilt of his blade.
“Muster your courage men of Lorine, for this night’s bloody work is not quite finished!” Cedric shouted
as he continued his stumbling way through the bathhouse, searching for a pool untainted by the blood so he might clean the blood from his face. Finally, near the entrance to the bathhouse, they found a clean pool and washed the blood of the traitors from their faces. Lafayette’s men had traded in their towels for their gambesons and uniforms, strapping their blades and axes to their sides and backs.
They rallied at the door of the bathhouse and pushed out into the night. The streets were dark, but the sounds of battles and death raged on through the void of shadow. No one in the city could be trusted, all could be the servants of Crassus Baal, Wulfstan was divided. Cedric spoke to take charge of the situation.
“Lafayette,” said Cedric, “gather the most loyal men in your garrisons, tonight we fight to take back the city from the forces of darkness. Meet us at the steps of the palace; we shall push out into the city from there, reclaiming each sacred stone of the streets.” Lafayette answered silently, using only a slight nod to convey his approval. He motioned to his captains, and they followed him into the night towards the main garrison of the city, their weapons were drawn, ready for any who would strike out of the shadow upon them.
Cedric led his companions along the narrow alleys of Wulfstan, avoiding the roaming gangs of thugs and soldiers dedicated to Azrael’s cause, they had no hope of fighting them without the aid of their other friends and Lafayette’s loyalists. They stalked and crept upon the smaller groups, often made of three or four brutes, going house to house, slaying all inside. The first hours of the night were quiet and dark, for the coup had not yet been fully discovered. When the moon had risen to its highest point, chaos broke out. Houses and buildings were alight with flame, giving light to the evil forces at play. The city streets became red with blood, whole families cast out into the cold, throats slashed and chests pierced by blades in the night.
They slowly made their way towards the palace, each step bringing the chance of discovery and death. The fires burned with brilliance and heat greater than that of Orford, it was like the belly of a dragon in some parts of the chaotic scene. They passed by a house belonging to a relative of House Arrington when there came a great crash of shattered glass from the window.
It was Leopold, his black cloak now covered in traitors’ blood. He crashed through the window with one of the vile House Guards, stabbing him through the air and on the ground. He was breathing heavy and fast, his eyes were wild, darting all into the night. Cedric steadied his newest ally with a hand on the chest, as Leopold was attempting to run to the next home of betrayers, as his eyes were so filled with a furious vengeance they were blind to his companions.
He gasped for air and bent over, and he said. “My work is nearly done, we must head to the palace now, make sure your king is still breathing. I have emptied near all the House of Arrington from this earth. William is still alive, though, I saw him on the Western Docks, he is gathering his forces there, no doubt to try and overwhelm the smaller groups of loyalists still left.”
Cedric responded. “Fear not, as we speak Lafayette gathers his men, we shall reclaim the city with our army!” Reunited with the assassin, the group continued along the streets, now opting for the faster route of the cobblestone main streets, where there was a path of violence and treachery. Again, there was a line of dead bodies, stretching the whole length of the streets they hurried along, so long as they stayed where there were bodies, they would not encounter Arrington’s men.
“Cedric! Over here!” In an alleyway, Alfnod was calling out to his companions. At the small entrance between two houses, the bodies of Arrington soldiers lay dead. Alfnod was tending to Eadwine’s wound, an arrow had landed through his upper arm, slicing clean through, and it was not serious.
“We were ambushed near the docks; we were trying to waylay a ship sent by the mariners. Arrington’s men were signaling them, and we attempted to call them off but to no avail. When they arrived at the dock, Arrington’s soldiers opened on them with a volley of arrows and bolts, killing each one. When the naval support was dealt with, they turned their bows on us; it was a miracle we made it here alive. We tried to double back, towards the palace, but to no avail, getting ourselves trapped in these alleyways. William as nearly five hundred men with him now, we cannot hope to best them without an army of our own.”
“Five hundred…I don’t know if even Lafayette will best these dark forces we face…come, to the palace!” Cedric said.
Now all of Cedric’s companions had been gathered, they made their way to the palace, now only a few streets away. Their eyes and souls grew distraught when they finally reached the steps, there was no sight of Lafayette, save a few nervous guards barricading the upper entrance to the palace. Cedric ran up the steps alongside his companions, not a moment could be wasted in the protection of the king’s life, with Alfnod and Eadwine unable to reach the palace before, all the party was filled with a deep dread and uncertainty as they climbed the numerous steps of the palace.
The ancient halls now were silent, with the blazing torches decorating the stone walls now extinguished. The guards had abandoned their posts, each distant and unseen footstep filled the party with a crippling fear of death as they moved forward, towards the private place of worship of the king. It was a small room on the other side of the palace and served as the house of worship for all the gods’ and their paragons. Cedric would catch a glimpse of some straggling guards running by doorways, carrying bags and chests of treasures, fleeing the city with as much as they could, an act who deeper meaning means nothing but troubling news. In the first days of the Ten Kingdoms, a sacred right was introduced to the royal guards of kings; that they may take what treasure they can carry from the treasury upon the death of the king.
Cedric and his companions stopped on the side of a wall, nearly at their intended target. They had not heard footsteps for some time, and this troubled all of them. Alfnod raised his voice to a slight whisper to speak. “If Oswine was still alive, wouldn’t we hear fighting, or perhaps Arrington’s men coming to kill him? I fear we are too late.” Cedric reflected on these words, picturing his failure and the demise of Lorine, it filled his heart with grief and at the same time a burning conviction to save what was left of his kingdom.
As they approached the temple, they found two remaining guards, their pikes shaking nervously in their hands and their armor clinking from fear. Cedric was happy to see the king had not been abandoned; he opened the door to see inside. At the center, the king and his nobles knelt in prayer to Cinder at his shrine upon an altar. It was an ancient stone statue, with a circular base with long waves of sunlight beaming from it. Cedric smiled, and pulled the bloody list from his pocket, just to see that King Oswine’s name had not been struck. He saw the great host of hooded figures beside the king and his mood turned. He scanned the list for their names. Their names dammit, their names, where are their names? Cedric thought as he hastened through the list, giving up halfway down he pulled out his sword and rushed towards the king.
The hooded figures surrounding the king drew daggers from their sleeves and pockets; the steel was not of the craft of man. Each dagger was jagged and foul, with all manner of dark rituals and runes being performed and carved into their memory.
They were the blades of Belaewan, or the Betrayers. The blades belonged to those who offered homage and service to Azrael at the time of his ascension. These evil knives slashed and pierced at the weak and old flesh of the king, his face of pure terror as they grabbed at his cloak and tore through both cloth and bone. They pierced his chest the most; its gaping wounds poured out a sea of blood onto the chapel floor. Each stone’s gap filled with blood before overflowing onto the main stone squares that composed the floor.
Cedric was thrown into a mad fury; his blade Bayeux tore through the Belaewan cloaks. Each blow grew in strength and speed as he cut them limb from limb. His other companions and guards joined the fray, ensuring that none of the cultists would escape. They proved to be of weak mettle, preferring to strike f
rom the shadow rather than an actual battle. The crumbled like wet paper to the strength and steel of their opposition. Their bodies too added to the ever-expanding wave of blood, as Cedric slashed at their corpses, swinging with such conviction as to make them still feel pain after death. He continued this until he heard a faint moaning, it was the still living king.
He rushed to the aid of the king, slipping in the old man’s blood. He put the weary soul’s head in his lap and began crying. Oswine would soon be reunited with his boys. He reached up to Cedric, and his bloody palm imprinted on the young lad’s face. Somehow still the king managed a smile as he spoke. “It is up to you now Cedric…” he paused to cough up blood. “All that we are as men is in your hands, be what I could not, do what I could not…unite the North.”
Suddenly the old man’s eyes shifted towards the ceiling as if he saw something other than the cold vaulted stone. “They are there Cedric, Waldo, and Owen. How happy they appear! They are glad for you Cedric that you can fulfill their names and mine. They shall be in your spirit Cedric, as king…” the king breathed his last heavy breath as if falling into a deep sleep, and he was gone. His body fell lifeless in Cedric’s arms, and his head remained comfortable upon Cedric’s lap.
Cedric noticed the king’s hand buried in his, opening his palm he discovered the golden ram of Wulfstan, a pin for the cloak of the king. Cedric arched his back to the sky and let out a cry for his once king, the blood of whom was still fresh upon his face. Cedric stood from his king’s bloody floor and looked in utter shock at his companions. He was at a loss, with no thought able to form in his mind. The whole of the party was stunned, their king was slain by those he thought loyal, it appeared all hope had vanished from the world of men.
The Sword to Unite Page 9