Black Scarlet

by R A Oakes

  “What’s that?” Chaktar asked, mystified and anxious to hear what magic elixir Prophet might have to cure his self- doubt.

  “Anger.”

  “Anger?”

  “Get even. Swarenth is responsible for the death of your father and grandfather. And if left to his own devices, the warlord will be responsible for your death as well. Have you no pride? Have you no dignity? Have you no desire for vengeance?”

  “Yes, I hate what they’ve done to me.”

  “Then make them pay!”

  “I’ll admit that it’s a tempting proposition,” Chaktar smiled.

  “Look deep inside yourself. What do you see?” Prophet pressed, sensing that he was about to win Chaktar over to his point of view. The old tiger realized that his own life might not be a waste if he could turn this young tiger into a firebrand of destruction to be wielded against the enemy. Prophet turned to the young tiger and shamelessly played on his emotions.

  “What do you see?” he asked once more.

  “Well, I see anger, rage and frustration,” Chaktar said.

  “How much rage? How much anger? How much frustration?” the old tiger growled.

  “A lot.”

  “How much?” Prophet asked growling louder.

  “A lot!”

  “How much?” Prophet asked again, growling even louder this time, goading the young tiger and whipping them both into an emotional frenzy.

  “I want to kill every gargoyle in Dominion Castle!”

  “When do you want it?” Prophet growled as he leaned back his head and shouted for all to hear.

  “Now! I want it now!” Chaktar growled at the top of his lungs as he looked around for a gargoyle to kill.

  “Tomorrow you’ll get your chance.”

  “I can’t wait till then. I’ll kill the jailer when he comes to feed us.”

  Prophet smiled.

  Chapter 13

  Dominion Castle. The next morning.

  “I never expected to find myself riding through the entrance of Swarenth’s fortress,” Rathlor said as he marveled at the sheer size of the castle.

  Immediately, Valkira picked up on the fact that Rathlor didn’t think of Dominion Castle as belonging to the Kardimonts. But to be sure, the chief ambassador decided to test Lord Stallington’s son and said, “Yes, this fortress is proof of gargoyle ingenuity. I’ll personally take you on a tour and show you Swarenth’s world in all its splendor.”

  “It sure is beautiful,” Rathlor said, his eyes wide with excitement.

  Greatly encouraged, Valkira realized that Rathlor wasn’t feigning his acceptance of Dominion Castle as belonging to gargoyles, and to Swarenth in particular. But the chief ambassador also noticed how Rathlor stared greedily at the ornate weapons and expensive armor worn by the hundreds of gargoyles they were passing.

  Valkira thought, Any finely-crafted wares in the castle were made before Swarenth took power. But Rathlor doesn’t seem to realize that, and I’m not sure he’d care if he did. This is definitely one man who loves the trappings of power.

  To Valkira, actually being in power was what mattered, not all the finery. But looking over at General Zarkahn, he realized this human was studying the castle’s defenses not its ornamentation. Swarenth’s chief ambassador decided to meet the issue head on.

  After allowing Rathlor to ride ahead out of earshot, Valkira said, “Luxury was a weakness of the Kardimonts. If they’d focused more on war and less on artistic achievements, they might still be the owners of Dominion Castle.”

  “I agree with you. Luxury can be used to intimidate others but should only be used for that purpose. It’s just one more weapon of war. However, it’s a dangerous weapon in that it can seduce those who possess it. Personally, I prefer a more austere environment.”

  Valkira liked the general’s answer. Over the last couple of weeks, as they’d ridden from Firecrest Castle to Dominion Castle, the chief ambassador realized more and more how much he and General Zarkahn thought alike.

  “You’re a dangerous ally, and if Swarenth’s not careful, it won’t be gargoyles or Kardimonts who’ll be ruling Dominion Castle, it will be you,” Valkira laughed.

  “Not me, I prefer to avoid politics. The life of a warrior is simpler, clearer and more direct. But what about you, chief ambassador, how about if we make you king?”

  “I don’t think so, Swarenth has a lock on that job. No one’s going to dislodge him.”

  “Swarenth’s too much of a thug,” General Zarkahn said. He knew he was on dangerous ground but wanted to explore his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. “Swarenth will never be accepted as king. People with royal blood have more finesse and are refined. They believe in great things that motivate and inspire people, at least the good ones are like that. As for me, all I need is a bowl of stew, a sharp sword and my saddle as a pillow.”

  “Well, I’m not a candidate either. I’m too ugly to be king.”

  General Zarkahn looked over at the bulky, winged ape and laughed. “Truer words were never spoken.”

  “You’ve got no room to talk. Heck, your horse is better looking than you are.”

  “My horse is probably better looking than most women you’ve known. So don’t get any ideas, and keep your hands off my horse,” the general said as he laughed again.

  The chief ambassador and the general looked at one another, took each other’s measure, and busted out laughing.

  “We’re a pair of sophisticates, aren’t we?” Valkira said.

  “Yes, we are,” the general said with a smile. “But what about your oldest son? From what you tell me, he’s equally good at working with gargoyles and humans. He sounds a bit young, but maybe we could groom him as the next king. You could be his chief minister.”

  General Zarkahn watched Valkira’s face as what he’d said sank in. Then, he saw a light go on in the chief ambassador’s eyes.

  Gotcha! thought the general.

  Valkira looked over at Lord Stallington’s top general and thought, This man’s going to get us all killed if we’re not careful.

  General Zarkahn thought, Good, that’s settled. Now let’s find out what Swarenth wants.

  The general was as practical as he was shrewd. Early on, he’d learned the importance of listening to people. Finding out what they want, and then getting it for them, was the quickest way to get into power and to stay there.

  General Zarkahn thought, So who’s this General Takanar I’ve heard Valkira talk so much about? What’s he like, and what does he want? Nobody stays loyal to someone like Swarenth out of noble motives. All those closest to the gargoyle leader are after something. Humans love to talk about themselves, and gargoyles apparently are no different. Sooner or later, General Takanar, and even Swarenth, will tell me what they want most of all, and I’ll get it for them.

  It was at this very moment that General Zarkahn turned into a mercenary.

  His world was in chaos. Skybrook Castle had rival factions, and an old pirate with no scruples was running Firecrest Castle. And, surprisingly, Swarenth’s hold on Dominion Castle might not be as tight as the warlord thought it was. General Zarkahn was now for hire and open to the highest bidder. Upon seeing the riches of the incredible castle the Kardimonts had built, and seeing how gargoyles were no harder to manipulate than men, the general turned rogue.

  Powerbroker was an accurate description of the new General Zarkahn, and it was a role he intended to thrive at.

  ◆◆◆

  When Swarenth learned that Valkira had returned with the heir to Skybrook Castle, or at least the man who hoped to be, as well as Lord Stallington’s top general, the gargoyle warlord was beside himself.

  “What can I do to repay you? You can have anything you want, anything!”

  Basking in his master’s gratitude, Valkira said, “My lord, not only are you privy to the Fighting Eagle’s military plans via General Zarkahn, and not only do you have Rathlor to install as a puppet at Skybrook Castle, but you have one thing more.”<
br />
  “And what’s that?”

  “A spy, Minister Rowkar, who’s one of Lord Stallington’s most trusted advisors. He’s also Genevieve’s best friend and confidant. Thus, you’re now privy to the personal thoughts and feelings of the Fighting Eagle and his daughter, a woman whom he respects and keeps well-informed on castle business.”

  “Why not just lower the drawbridge, and let me walk right through the front entrance into Skybrook Castle?”

  “Actually, that might not be so far-fetched. At this point, it could happen,” the chief ambassador said.

  “If I had a castle on the northern border of Crystal Valley, Baelfire would have a fit. Even with that meddlesome sword’s new master, the blond witch, having surfaced, I would still be more trouble than Baelfire or Zorya could imagine.”

  “Anything and everything’s possible,” Valkira said. “And how can I reward my most valued and trusted

  friend?”

  “Well, master, my oldest son will be turning 21 soon, and I’d like to begin his formal training here at Dominion Castle. I’d eventually like him to take up a position in government as one of your ministers.”

  “When will your son return?”

  “In about a week.”

  “Upon his arrival, give him the head of one of my cabinet ministers as a present.”

  “Which one, my lord?”

  “I’ll leave that up to you. Which ministerial post would you like him to have?”

  “Minister of Finance would be nice.”

  “That’s fine, but surround your son with a knowledgeable, experienced staff who can advise him.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “And he must run any important decisions past me for the first year.”

  “Naturally, my lord.”

  “Okay, then the job is his.”

  “Thank you, my lord. When should I introduce General Zarkahn and Rathlor to you?”

  “We’re having the big cats fight in the small arena later this afternoon, bring them to me there.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  As Chief Ambassador Valkira walked out of the great hall, he thought, Now I have my hands on the money, but if it wasn’t for General Zarkahn, I’d never have asked for such a post for my son. In a few years, I wonder if the general could really orchestrate a coup, overthrow Swarenth and replace him with my son?

  Later, when Valkira told General Zarkahn of his son’s promotion to cabinet minister, the warrior patted the proud father on the back and said, “Just take it slow, and train him well.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m happy for you,” General Zarkahn said smiling expansively.

  However, the general thought, I’ll help Valkira and his son gain some power. I’ll encourage them to take moderate risks to build a base for themselves. Behind the scenes, I’ll learn all about Swarenth’s finances myself. When the time’s right, and Swarenth appears vulnerable, I’ll help plan a coup.

  Smiling inwardly at the prospect, the general thought, At that point, I could decide who’s best for my own future. I could join the coup, or I could tip off Swarenth about it. Either way, I come out ahead.

  As a friend, General Zarkahn could be even more dangerous than an enemy.

  ◆◆◆

  Later that afternoon, Chaktar was listening to the roar of the crowd in the seats directly above him. On fight days, big cats were kept in cages underneath the grandstands encircling the arena.

  “I can still hardly believe you’re here, and we’re going to attempt a breakout,” Chaktar said.

  “I told you I was going to help you escape, and I meant it,” Prophet said.

  “Listen to the crowd going wild. When the gargoyles cheer, it’s because someone’s getting hurt badly or killed. You’re going to be in the same situation very soon, Prophet. This is no philosophical debate. This is reality.”

  “I’ve been in these cages before.”

  “Well, if things go as planned, you won’t be here again, ever.”

  “I don’t fear what’s coming. Let’s take down our gargoyle opponents as quickly as possible.”

  “That’s the general idea anyway.”

  “To build a sense of drama, sometimes I’d prolong a fight,” Prophet said.

  “I just kill. I don’t try to entertain these gargoyles.”

  “I wasn’t entertaining them. I was creating the impression that I was hurt worse than I actually was. I’d draw in the gargoyle warriors, tempting them to move in for the kill, then spring back to life in all my glory turning an apparent victory for my opponents into a crushing defeat.”

  “It still sounds like you were providing entertainment.”

  “No, I did it to create a reputation for being dangerous. After a while, all the gargoyle warriors were afraid of me, and I had fewer and fewer fights. Part of the reason they retired me was that, in the end, I proved to be so intimidating that no one would fight me. No one requested to have me in the arena.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me. Anyway, after I killed my opponents, I’d charge around inside the arena growling loudly and looking up at the crowd in a threatening way.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to scare the audience so they wouldn’t try to goad gargoyle warriors into fighting me. I wanted the crowd to believe that facing me was pure suicide. That way, if gargoyles refused to fight me, there was no shame in it. I wanted the perception to be that not challenging me showed good common sense, and that anyone even considering it was foolish. After a while, warriors who bragged about wanting to take me on were treated, not with honor, but with derision and scorn.”

  “You thought all this out in advance?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “You’ll need to be more than that.”

  “What do you mean?” Chaktar asked.

  “You’re the symbol of the Kardimont kings. Make it a symbol that puts fear into the hearts of every gargoyle in Dominion Castle. When you escape, you can’t just run away. There’s work to do here first.”

  “Like what?”

  “Attack individual gargoyles moving about outside the castle walls. Make them afraid to walk alone. Attack both at night and in broad daylight, and let yourself be seen. You want witnesses who will tell others about the attacks.”

  “How long do you want me to do that?”

  “Until most gargoyles travel around in pairs or small groups. But don’t let them feel secure even then, shake them up. Dive into a bunch of them, claw a few and run off. Don’t stand and fight, just hit and run.”

  “And I do that for how long?”

  “Not for too long. Eventually, they’ll move about heavily armed and expecting trouble. However, by that time, you’ll have the reputation of being a dangerous and terrifying tiger.”

  “That’s when I head northwest?”

  “Yes, but don’t attack any gargoyles along the way. You don’t want to leave a trail to follow.”

  “These are really good ideas. Do you sit around all day thinking about stuff like this?” Chaktar asked.

  “Sometimes, now here’s how to capitalize on your reputation.”

  “Okay, how?”

  “When you find King Tarlen, stay close to him. When the enemy sees the king, make sure they see you with him, and they’ll fear him because they fear you. Your reputation will transfer to him. If he’s your master, and you travel by his side, then he must be dangerous as well.

  “The king’s reputation as someone to be feared will be established immediately. When you make these attacks around Dominion Castle, it’s not to build your reputation. It’s to help build his,” Prophet explained.

  “I way underestimated you.”

  “I realize that, but I had no way to prove myself to you before. Even if I’d tried telling you about warfare, you wouldn’t have listened.”

  “Who taught you all this?”

  “No one, it just comes to m
e.”

  “War seems like a complicated business.”

  “It’s all about fighting more with your brain than with your claws.”

  Suddenly, there was a deafening roar as the crowd went wild. “Someone’s dead. Either a big cat or a gargoyle,” Chaktar said.

  “Well, we’re next.”

  “How are you holding up?” Chaktar asked.

  “I have butterflies in my stomach,” Prophet admitted.

  “So do I. I’ve never had so much riding on one fight.”

  Gradually the crowd quieted down, and then there was total silence. The two tigers stared with nervous anticipation at the wooden door leading into the arena. Prophet took a deep breath but was so focused on waiting for the door to open that he forgot to exhale.

  “Breathe,” Chaktar told the older tiger.

  Prophet just looked at him, not knowing what he was talking about.

  “Breathe,” Chaktar repeated.

  Prophet finally exhaled but quickly took another deep breath, let it out slowly and said, “Winning’s not enough, we need to win decisively.”

  At that moment, the door slid open revealing a row of five fully-armed gargoyle warriors facing them, and the two tigers charged out into the arena.

  “Don’t let them encircle us, get the ones on the far ends first. You go left, I’ll go right!” Prophet shouted.

  Both huge tigers feigned running at the gargoyles in the middle, then split and headed in opposite directions going after the two on the ends. In a matter of seconds, it was two down, three to go.

  Prophet jumped at one gargoyle knocking him to the ground, yet he ignored the fallen winged ape. The old tiger just wanted the gargoyle out of the way for the next maneuver. Immediately, the tigers joined forces attacking the nearest gargoyle from both the front and back at the same time. Three down, two to go.

  The crowd was stunned by how quickly events had gone against the gargoyle gladiators. Now, Chaktar and Prophet stood side by side facing two hideous apes whose sword arms were almost as strong as their faces were ugly.

  “People call tigers man-eaters. Well, I’ve never tasted human flesh, but I can tell you that gargoyles taste awful. When I bite them, it’s all I can do not to vomit,” Chaktar confessed.