Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera

by Tamara H Hartl

  Cearan plied him for explanations of the candy bar and shaving soap in a bottle then stopped him. “I am supposed to entertain you. You can educate me on that later.”

  Drace leaned back against his pillows. “Tell me about that Zakara. What exactly was that thing?”

  “You remember the story of Arahtok and the making of the Werre don’t you?”

  Drace nodded.

  “Well Arahtok had a brother, the God Zaka. Zaka is the God of the Dark side. Even in your world there is the balance of things; good and evil, dark and light, yes?”

  “Yes,” Drace said and leaned forward.

  “Zaka was jealous of Arahtok’s people. He decided that Brother Wolf would father his own new people. He went north, to the mountains where the wolf packs live and told them what he wished. They refused. They lived in harmony with the children of Arahtok, knowing the Lion God would not be pleased. Zaka was furious. He threatened the wolf clans. Knowing the risk, they still refused. So, one night, Zaka stole the essence from the male wolves and made, without woman, the Zakara as you saw him.”

  Drace sat back, disappointment on his face. “That’s it?”

  “Oh no. Arahtok and the wolf clans were very angry. Arahtok cursed the Zakara and his brother. He could not undo this evil deed, but he made it so that Zakara could only mate with Zakara. The wolf clans shunned them and humans shunned them as well. They became mercenary to the few who will deal with them as you saw. Even then they are not well trusted for they will turn on their comrades if it suits. Zakara are not nearly as clever as a true wolf.”

  Drace sat thinking, and then something occurred to him. “What did Ki do with that Siken fella?”

  Cearan frowned. “He is still locked in a storeroom in the cellar as far as I know. Why?”

  “I don’t think he should stay down there forever,” Drace sniffed. “She’s not starving him is she?”

  Cearan chuckled. “You will love this. He is only allowed bread and cheese.”

  Drace laughed, which made him cough. “What do your people normally do in a case like this?”

  Cearan rubbed his chin. “Well, an unjustified attack on another may be punishable by lashes, or even banishment. If it is a savage attack or one on a high-ranking person, such as you, the punishment could even be death. Each crime is judged on its own.”

  Drace gave a weak, “Oh.”

  Cearan continued, “I am surprised Ki has not had his head removed already.”

  Drace found the answer to his question that evening. He came down for the evening meal, but did not let Ki know how shaky he felt once he made it to his chair. He hoped he wouldn’t faint into his plate.

  He made it through the meal and ignored the concerned looks Ki kept giving him. At the end of dinner, Ki whispered something to Cearan who rose and left, beckoning to another warrior to follow. A little while later, he and the other warrior returned, flanking a quite disheveled, now bearded, Siken, between them. They forced Siken to his knees in front of Drace.

  Drace raised an eyebrow at Ki who stood and addressed Siken. Her voice rang clear in the now quiet hall. “Siken, you are guilty of assault on a high ranking member of the Clan. Do you admit to this?”

  Siken hung his head, shamefaced. “Yes, my Lady.”

  “Do you have anything to say in your defense?” she asked, glaring at him.

  “Only, my Lady—that I deeply regret my actions against Lord MacKinnon. I give myself to his mercy.”

  “Then your fate shall be in his hands,” Ki ordered and sat down.

  Drace managed to keep his face expressionless while he processed what had just transpired. He sat staring coldly at the top of Siken’s lowered head.

  Siken dared a glance up at Drace, and then ducked his head back down. He remained on his knees and by the Dark Lord’s look knew he would not be asked to rise until Drace had decided. Finally, after a long wait, Drace seemed to come to a decision. “I am aware that the penalty of assault such as you committed can be death,” he said in a quiet but clear voice.

  Siken raised his head quickly, a shocked expression on his face.

  Drace slightly raised his hand. “But I believe I struck you as well, however provoked. Am I right?”

  Siken swallowed nervously. “Yes, my Lord, but…,”

  Drace cut him off with another lift of his hand. “Be quiet.” Drace felt Ki move restlessly next to him and he stilled her with a quick glance. “This is a time of war, however and we need leading warriors. I have heard that you are a good leader, even if you use poor judgment while under the influence of ale or wine.”

  Siken was looking confused. “My Lord?”

  “The fact you pulled a weapon when we could have settled this as men is what concerns me.” There was a touch of anger in Drace’s voice that made Siken lower his head once more in shame.

  “That, and the insult you placed on my wife. She is my mate, by her choice. The results were known to her and still she chose me.” Drace looked around the hall and his voice rose slightly as evidence of his emotions. “Anyone, who insults her as this man did, insults her or her family,” He looked back at the kneeling man. “I will remove their head myself.”

  He saw Siken swallow again. “Twenty lashes to give you something to remember your crime. Once you have received them, you will be allowed to wash and eat. When you are healed enough to work, you will report to the head pig keeper for service to him for two seven days. Is this understood?”

  Siken nearly fainted in relief. “Yes, my Lord.”

  Drace gave a nod to Cearan who motioned to another warrior standing at the main door. The man disappeared and soon reappeared, carrying a long lashed whip.

  Drace stood as Cearan ripped the filthy shirt from Siken’s back. He stood with his back ramrod straight as Cearan delivered the lashes, made no sound until the last one.

  As the blows fell on Siken, Ki dared a glance at Drace and saw the bead of sweat that trickled down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. His expression was one of utmost control.

  When Cearan stepped back, he motioned to the two waiting guards to remove Siken to the barracks to have his back attended to. The man was not hurt too badly although blood had been drawn and splattered the flagstones, but the pain was enough to temper any more rebellion. The rest of the punishment would hurt Siken’s pride more than the stripes on his back.

  Drace sat back down rather heavily in his chair, his expression still controlled. “Would you send Estelle up with some of that tea of hers? I think I’m going to go up now,” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “Do you want me to go up with you?” Ki thought he looked rather pale.

  “No. I can throw up by myself,” Drace replied as he stood up again.

  Ki watched him leave as Cearan sat in Drace’s chair. “I think he is sick,” she said.

  “It is quite a hard thing holding another man’s fate in your hands. It is new to him. Give him some time,” Cearan advised her, pouring them both a goblet of wine.

  Ki lingered over hers then went upstairs to their chamber. Drace sat in a chair, a cup in one hand, his head in his other hand, his elbow on his knee. He had stripped down to his drawers and his hair was in disarray as if he had run his hands through it several times.

  “You look quite rough,” Ki commented when she saw him.

  Drace just shook his head. Ki came over and knelt in front of him. “What is wrong, love?”

  He moved his hand. He wore an expression she had never seen on him before. “What is it?”

  “I sat there looking at that man and all I could think of was how he had wanted you. I could see his hands on you and I wanted to kill him. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and watch the life fade right out of him. When Cearan was lashing him, I wanted to take the whip and use it until Siken’s blood ran all over the stones.” Drace looked at Ki helplessly. “Can you understand that?”

  “Yes,” she whispered and laid her head on his knee. He put his free hand on her head, fingers
burrowing into her soft hair. “When I came up here and Estelle was stitching you, I wanted to kill him. That he could have killed you…,” she didn’t finish the thought. “Then you left and had that fight with the Zakara and got caught in that storm.”

  “That was my own stupidity that put me in that position. It’s over now. Was I harsh enough do you think?”

  “You hit him in his pride and he knows very well how it could have gone for him. You did well. Pigs? That was a good idea.” She laughed a little.

  Drace chuckled as well, and then coughed.

  Ki looked up at him. “Did you vomit?”

  “Oh yeah. I think the tea is starting to work. I better get into bed. I don’t think you can carry me if I fall asleep here.”

  Ki stood up and took his hand. “Come, I will tuck you in.”

  Drace lay down and Ki covered him with a blanket. “Thanks, hon.”

  “You are welcome, my love,” she replied and sat on the edge of the bed to unbraid her hair.

  Drace watched her with sleepy eyes. “Will you come to bed soon? I sleep better with you next to me.”

  “Of course, I will be there shortly.” She quickly undressed and pulled on an old shift then lay down next to him. She lay with her head against his broad chest. No rattles of congestion, thank the gods. Relieved, she soon was asleep herself.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A MONTH WENT BY and the snows had stopped; and with the arrival of better weather came the arrival of the dwarf and elf forces. The tent city in both baileys grew.

  The dwarves amused Drace. They were exactly as he had pictured them from movies he had watched; he had never seen a feistier bunch of men.

  Drace, Ki, and Cearan spent everyday with the other warriors, practicing maneuvers; coming in late in the evenings tired and mud covered. It was one such day when Yeager’s forces arrived.

  Sentries announced the Northland army’s arrival while the three were mounted, watching a group of horseman running a drill. The threesome rode out to meet them. Cearan spotted the lead rider and took off at a gallop with a loud yell.

  “That is Lexin. Cearan and he grew up together here at the stronghold. They are like brothers,” Ki explained as they rode at a more sedate pace.

  “Why did he leave then?” Drace asked.

  “His father served as war chieftain at Yeager’s, but his mother spent much time here with her sister. Cearan was to foster there but then our father was killed and he would not go, as much as it hurt him to see Lexin leave. He stayed for me. They spent time in Ysgol together however.”

  “Your brother is an exceptional man. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.” Drace told her, and meant it. Cearan had become the closest friend he’d had in a very long time.

  “Come on, my Lord.” Ki invited with a grin, kicking her horse into a gallop. Drace lightly touched Pride’s sides with his legs and Pride sprang into a run.

  Cearan had already reached Lexin and both men were pounding each other on the back in greeting, the large group of Lexin’s forces watched while they halted. Cearan turned to Ki and Drace as they pulled their horses to a halt.

  “Drace, this is Lexin, Knight of Bellmore, the High Kingdom. Lexin, this is Drace, Lord MacKinnon, now a Knight of Kismera, and Ki’s mate.”

  Drace and Ki dismounted and Drace clasped the man’s arm in greeting, and then moved over a step to allow Lexin to sweep Ki into a robust hug.

  “My, how you have turned into a beauty, cousin.” Lexin said in a deep, rich voice, full of humor.

  A-ha, thought Drace. That explains the resemblance. While Lexin had the typical Werre characteristics, he bore a striking resemblance to the siblings, especially Cearan, with the exception that his eyes were more brown than gold. Drace had briefly entertained the thought that maybe Lexin had been a bastard son of their father. Yeager had no children so the relation would have to be through Ki’s mother’s line.

  “Come, Lexin. Let us get your men to the stronghold and settled. Night approaches and you must be tired and hungry,” Ki suggested. “We have saved for you your usual quarters.”

  Cearan stayed to ride in with Lexin and his men while Ki and Drace rode more quickly back to the castle.

  “Our numbers are complete now and the weather improves daily. Every day the war comes closer,” Ki reflected as they entered the main hall. “I feel frightened suddenly. It did not strike me until I saw Lexin. They seem so young.”

  “They are both grown men and trained warriors. It’s not good to dwell on the ‘what ifs’, hon,” Drace soothed. “I need a bath. I’ll wash your back if you wash mine,” he offered suggestively and gave her a look.

  Together they ran up the stairs.

  Another two weeks went by and the drilling and planning became more hectic. Nimbus and Azure had flown the Southern pass, announcing that if the weather stayed warm, the lower reaches of the pass would be traversable in another two or three weeks.

  Plans to leave the stronghold in two days were made. A large room had been converted to a war room and a big table was covered in maps. Blank parchment was soon covered in battle formation at various locations. The entire group of leaders hoped to meet the enemy at a plain called Hopa, where there were places for their armies to come over two ridges in flanking moves. The climb up would be steep but there was adequate cover to reach it. There was a gradual slope down into the valley that made the plains of Hopa. The southern pass opened into this valley and gradually widened to this favored location.

  Keva, leader of the Ferndale forces, an elf with eyes and hair the color of ink, and his second in command by his side, stood looking over the latest plans. Jumon, the leader of the dwarf army stood on a stool. Keva had to keep pushing the dwarf’s long brown beard out of the way on the table as the dwarf kept leaning over to see well.

  Vashti and Ka’Ril were there with word from Nimbus on how the two dragons planned to deal with the enemy dragons. They would have to be disabled quickly to avoid them using their deadly breath weapons and their magic.

  Nimbus had not been able to fly over the pass as there were still storms in the highest reaches. No one knew what lay on the other side, but all suspected there were encampments waiting to move north, hoping to surprise.

  A servant knocked on the door then stepped in to call them to the evening meal.

  Estelle served Drace and the Werren men a new spiced wine and each man’s cup was refilled when it emptied. Towards the end of the meal, Ki and Vashti along with several of the other female warriors, excused themselves.

  A while later, Drace prodded Cearan, who appeared to be feeling the effects of his wine. “Where did they go?” he asked of the women.

  Cearan gave him a secretive grin. “You are about to see a custom of our people that is a prelude to a big battle.” His attention shifted. “Ah, I see Vashti. Relax, my brother. All will be well,” he said and sat back in his chair, taking another long swallow of his wine.

  Vashti had indeed appeared along with two men carrying small hoop drums. The men sat against one wall and began a slow rhythm. Vashti stepped further into the hall and began a quiet chant then waved her arm around the room. She made a complete circle. As she went, the torches and candles extinguished, leaving the hall in darkness except for the fire in the large fireplace. Even it dimmed.

  Feeling every hair on his arms and neck stand, Drace felt Cearan tense beside him and give the coughing call of a lion summoning others. Lexin joined in a seat down from Ki’s empty one. Drace then felt a cold shiver pass down his spine. It wasn’t fear but something he couldn’t quite identify. Soon there were several other calls from some of the other Werre males

  A loud roar from the darkness quieted them. It sounded again and the drums beat louder and faster. Vashti’s voice was drowned out by them, but her chant brought a few of the torches to light the room dimly and the fire to brighten.

  It was then that Drace could see the women had returned. Ki lead them further into the hall. Each wore long loincloths, a
short tunic laced up the front, and all were barefoot. Each one’s hair was done so it stood out in a lion’s mane and their faces were painted in a way that made the lion resemblance more pronounced. Ki wore a headdress of pheasant feathers that framed her face, her hair flowing behind it.

  Each woman had a spear in one hand and a sword in the other. The drummers changed the beat and the women went into a fighting crouch. Ki bared her fangs with a hiss, and then issued a challenging roar.

  Cearan answered in kind, the other males followed suit. Drace did not have the lion’s roar but found himself bellowing some sort of deep war cry that would have been answered by his ancestors. He could feel the drum beat in his pulse. He stared at Ki and saw her eyes were glazed as if in a trance, but a fire burned behind them.

  The women started a dance that mimicked a battle but they moved in slow, powerful motions. It lasted for several minutes with an ending of clear victory. Then the drums stopped and in the quiet they lay their weapons down. Each bared their teeth, growling. The Werre men pulled their daggers and pounded the hilts against the table as the drums began again and the women started another dance, their movements slow and sensual. Ki spun and her loincloth and hair flared around her. Her eyes locked with Drace’s and he felt a powerful surge through his veins. He ceased to think rationally, feeling primitive. Ki eyes met Drace’s again and she danced only for him. He was dimly aware of the rumbling growls around them.

  The drums began to beat faster and faster and the dancers followed suit. Finally, they reached a crescendo then came to abrupt halt as the women spun down onto their knees, heads bowed until they touched the floor.

  Drace could see in the dim light the sweat glistening on Ki’s skin, and the movement of her body as she gasped for breath. She looked up at him and he froze, his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Unaware he had even stood or moved around the table, he stopped in front of her. Ki looked up at him and roared, Drace’s answering war cry blended with hers. There were roars around him and he glanced over. Cearan and Lexin along with eight other Werre males stood in front of each woman, looking at him, waiting for his next move. He didn’t think of what to do next, it was like an instinct, something powerful that had hold of him.