Samual

by Greg Curtis

  He was a disgusting little troll blood buried in a cavern under an island where he created his armies of steel vermin. The miserable little creature was a horror to him, mostly because he was both wizard and troll. It simply seemed wrong that any miserable troll should have magic when he didn't. An insult from the gods themselves, and another reason not to worship any of them. Still, as horrible as the creature was, he might now prove useful.

  Briefly though, he did wonder about the wisdom of contacting the troll blood. The foul creature was dangerous. And he was a wizard. He might have a way of finding him. Meanwhile Heri had no actual way of controlling him. Just some threats. But in the end it was the only chance he had of regaining his throne. And without that he was nothing. He could not be nothing.

  Before making contact with him though, Heri took some basic precautions. Mostly that consisted of blowing out all the candles that stood between him and the window so that no light fell on his face. He didn't look like the former king and the chances were that the troll blood wouldn't have known what the king of Fair Fields had looked like anyway. But there was no point in taking chances. Then he sat back down and prepared himself mentally for what he had to do.

  Quickly Heri used the window to return to the island and the cavern in its heart. And what a cavern! The entire inside of a volcano had been hollowed out somehow. Lava literally pooled in small lakes everywhere filling the cavern with an orange glow. And someone had somehow carved huge stone platforms over each of those pools from which a man might stand and gaze down in wonder. Or in this case a worthless troll blood.

  Strangest of all, the machina themselves simply walked out of the lava lakes one by one. Glowing lava creations that slowly cooled and turned to steel. Somehow they were created from the very fire of the molten rocks. He didn't understand that. Mostly he suspected it was something of the ancients left over from before the first Dragon Wars. But he understood that this was how the troll blood could create his armies. The entire cavern was some sort of ancient workshop that could produce machina. He also knew that the Dragon hadn't created this wonder of the world. He had just somehow found it and then made use of it. There was no way a troll blood could have built this.

  It wasn't long before he found the troll blood casting his magic into a batch of steel spiders. He only wished it had been so good at finding Sam. He could have killed the Alder worshipping bastard years ago and been done with him before he had grown so powerful. But finding a man who could be anywhere was a much harder thing than finding a town or an island. He had tried. He had searched the streets of every city he could think of that his brother might go to. But he had not found him. The troll blood had been much easier to find.

  Heri didn't want to use the troll blood. Trolls were dangerous enemies and this one would always be his enemy. But he was out of choices. It was this or nothing. And it couldn't be nothing. He had to get his throne back, and he needed an army to do that. The Dragon's army was the only one he had available.

  Once he'd found the troll blood, Heri spoke the words that opened the window. That allowed him not just to see the new Dragon, but to speak with him. And unfortunately to be seen and heard by him. That was why he hadn't risked making contact with him before. It was bad enough that he was troll blood. But when he could send armies to crush a realm it made speaking with him that much more dangerous. The time for caution though was over. He wanted his throne back and there was no other way to get it. Besides, he was sitting in a darkened chamber with all the light from the lamps and candles coming from behind him. The troll blood would be able to see very little. And trolls were stupid.

  “Troll blood! Attend to me at once!”

  Heri snapped his command at the troll. Partly it was because he didn't like the foul creatures. But partly it was because he knew that you had to always be in control with any troll blood. If they sensed submission they would kill you. They only respected strength. As a strategy it seemed to work.

  The new Dragon and would be master of the world leapt into the air in shock. He also managed to look suitably worried when he landed. It wasn't an expression that came naturally to his features. Troll mouths didn't work the same way as others owing to the upturned tusks that protruded from their lower jaws. It meant that they couldn't show a lot of normal emotions. They couldn't smile or show sorrow for example, and when they laughed the sound was more animal than human. Still, he thought he saw fear in his eyes. That pleased him.

  “Who are you?” The troll blood yelled the question out angrily, his words slurring together as he forced them out too quickly.

  “Your new master of course.” Heri smiled and watched as the troll blood grimaced in fury. That was one expression a creature such as him could always manage.

  “Never! I serve no one! Especially not a filthy human!”

  “Oh well then, I guess I'll just have to destroy you and most of your miserable race.”

  Heri managed a smile even as he reached for the blood red orb on the table beside him. The moment his hand touched it the orb began glowing gently, casting a blood red hue right around the chamber. Naturally the troll blood recognised it. He was magical after all, and there was no wizard who wouldn't know what it was.

  “Where'd you get that?” Despite everything, the troll blood was impressed. What Heri was holding in his hands was power. Ultimate magical power. An ancient weapon that had been built to destroy cities. Or in this case mountains.

  “This? You mean them don't you?” Heri smiled some more, lying through his teeth and pretending a confidence he didn't have as he patted the orb. Pretending he had more of them. But he needed this troll blood frightened. “And why should it matter where I got them from? What should matter to you is what I'm going to do with them.”

  That got through to the creature. Its defiance died away a little and it started thinking. Slowly of course. It was troll blood after all. Tusks, greying wrinkled viciousness, and apparently magic. But not intelligence. Eventually it came up with some more obvious questions.

  “You can't kill me with that. You can't get it on the island. My machina would destroy you before you got here.”

  “Kill you?” Heri managed a confident laugh. “Why would I kill you? That seems entirely too much work for something as worthless as you. Especially when it's so much easier to destroy you.”

  “Destroy?” The Dragon suddenly looked anxious, an almost comical expression on its wrinkled face.

  “Of course. You see I know your secret. The secret of all trolls.” And he did. Bless Augrim's rotting corpse! The man might have been expensive and ultimately disloyal, but he had had his uses.

  “What secret?” The troll blood tried for defiance once more. But it sounded false on his lips.

  “About your precious mountains of course. You know, that little thing you've never spoken about in all the centuries that your kind has been a plague on the world? That the mountains aren't just a home and a place where you store memories. That they're the place where your souls reside.”

  It was a guess. He didn't know that. No one did – not for sure. Even Augrim hadn't been certain, despite studying the issue extensively. But the trolls believed it. It was the heart of their religion. It was the truth that they shook their ancient bones at. And once he'd known he was dealing with a troll blood Heri had known what levers he would have to use to make him do what he wanted.

  “That's just the shaman talking.”

  But he didn't believe that. Heri could see the uncertainty in the troll blood's eyes. Hear it in his voice.

  “Really? Well I guess we'll know soon. Because I've already had the first of these placed in one of your ancestral mountains. The caves of Andrea. And with just a word from me, the mountain will be no more. It should be interesting to see what happens to you. The soul of your ancient Dragon – you know the real one that you're copying. The souls of all those others. A thousand years of your people's memories and lives, all gone in the blink of an eye. I wonder what'll be left of you?
And of all the knowledge you've gained from it?”

  “Will you lose your magic? It is the Dragon's magic after all. Your knowledge? That too was his first. Your intelligence. And that would be bad because you're only troll blood. Small and weak. The others, the true trolls would eat you. And after all, Andrea is your spiritual home isn't it?” Heri managed another amused laugh, but really he was no more certain of what he was saying than the troll blood was. This was all a bluff.

  “I'm not from Andrea.”

  In the instant he said that Heri knew he had the new Dragon. Because he knew that the troll blood was lying. He didn't have the wit to lie ably.

  “Well I guess we'll see in a few hours, won't we?” He smiled confidently. “I'll check back in a few hours to see what's happened to you after I've sent a message to my people shall I?”

  “No!”

  “No? Why ever not? I mean you've already said you won't do as I command. So what use are you to me? To anyone? Best I think to wipe your ugly race out. Don't you?”

  “What do you want?” The new Dragon with his massive armies of machina gave in abruptly, and no doubt hated himself as he did so. He probably hated every word that came out of his mouth. But he'd realised he had no choice.

  And he didn't as long as he didn't know that Heri was lying through his teeth. Because if he ever guessed the truth he would come after Heri with everything he had. And he had armies of machina. Heri would not survive against them. The troll blood would destroy the entire kingdom to get to him.

  “Oh well then, isn't that better?” Heri mocked him. It was vital that he retained the upper hand. That the troll blood believed he had all the power. There could be no lapses. And the troll blood could never guess who he was either. He could never be given a target to strike at.

  “All I want is such a small thing. A few little deaths when you already have so many. A couple or three of your steel drakes.”

  “Who do you want killed?”

  “Well, let's start with the nobility of Fair Fields. They all need to die. There's a family called the Fallbrights. Do you know they once tried to hang me as a thief?! They said I shouldn't be stealing the magic of their ancestors. As if necromancy is so terrible!”

  Heri continued with his lies, pretending to be the one thing he wasn't – an unseen wizard. But it was an easy enough deception when he was speaking to the troll blood through a magic mirror and holding a sun burst. And when trolls were stupid.

  Even as he was giving the troll blood the first of his list of enemies to be destroyed however, Heri was thinking that maybe he should actually have the sun burst brought to the caves of Andrea. After all, if the troll blood truly believed that destroying them would harm him in some way, maybe there was an element of truth in the shaman's stories. And at some point he had to kill this foul creature anyway. Before he reclaimed his throne. Because the moment he did the troll blood would know who he was and would have a target to send his armies after.

  That was the problem with trolls and their thirst for blood. They always wanted to kill you. Friend or foe. Human or even another troll. They always wanted you dead. They wanted everyone dead. They were nothing but savages. And now he had one with magic who would want to do nothing more than hunt him down and kill him if he could. But there had always been a price to be paid for taking this path.

  Which was why he had a second plan to save himself. Reveal the Dragon's location to those who could do something about the troll blood.

  Heri laughed quietly after he'd finished with the troll blood and shut the window, pleased with how things were going. He was back and he was safe. He had the beginnings of power once more. And he could put his plan into effect. It was a simple four part plan. Destroy his enemies. Reclaim the throne. Kill the Dragon. And then kill his pestilent big brother.

  Each step of course had its difficulties. Destroying his enemies always had to involve not getting killed in the act. But at least it was started. Reclaiming the throne would require finding allies. Killing the Dragon came with the basic problem that he had no idea how to do it. And he had no idea if others could either. He just had to hope that they could. And killing his brother was a bigger problem than ever now that the damned elves had laid a geas on him preventing him from doing it. He could want to. He desperately wanted to. He could curse Samual until the end of time and threaten him too. But when it came to the moment to stick the knife in, he would be unable to do so. He was also unable to give the command to others to do so.

  But that, he decided as he felt the ache of the torn muscles in his back, would not stop him from trying. Samual had to die.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  The great house of Bainbury was quiet. Nestled in the heart of the town, it was at peace along with everyone else. It was past the middle of the night and everyone was asleep. But even during the days lately the house had been calm. A few soldiers would patrol the walls and the roof of the great house. Perhaps walk the courtyard. Maybe some of the Fallbrights would take a ride or wander into the town surrounding their home. But that was it. There were no noble visitors coming and going. No balls being held. And even their court was held only once a week.

  The entire barony was quiet. Save for the soldiers of course, who were guarding every town. It had been quiet for a long time. Ever since the former king had escaped the clutches of their son, Galan. It had to be quiet because once word of the escape had reached the other noble houses, the Fallbrights had found themselves pariahs.

  First their son Harmion had tried to usurp the throne – not that anyone objected to that. But the other nobles objected to the way it had worked out with Fall Keep being badly damaged. The other families didn't care that Harmion had died. They cared only that the failure had resulted in a damaged prize and that their own family members being taken hostage. They cared about that very much.

  Then their kin had been slaughtered, and though there was no proof that the assassins had been in the pay of the Fallbrights, many suspected their hand. That was not something that would be quickly or easily forgotten.

  After that Fall Keep had been destroyed, and though no one knew who had done it or why, again suspicion had fallen on the Fallbrights. Of that at least they were innocent, but it wasn't about innocence or guilt. It was about what people believed.

  When the throne had been destroyed and the noble houses had fallen to feuding and occasionally open warfare as they battled for power, anything that reminded the other houses of the Fallbrights and their possible role in what had gone wrong, was unwanted. This was a time when the house wanted to go unnoticed. When they wanted to be forgotten. Let the other houses destroy one another. The Fallbrights needed to stay out of that until they were stronger.

  But then things had become worse. For a while the family had reason to hope that all the damage that had been done to their name could be repaired. They had had the former king in their clutches. They had had proof that it was he who had destroyed Fall Keep. How else could he be alive? And they had had the chance to bring him to justice in front of all the other noble houses, proving their innocence. They had sent word to their son in the Golden River Flats trading outpost to bring Heri back, alive. They had sent word to all the other noble houses of his capture and upcoming trial. For a while it had seemed that the sun was once more shining on them.

  But then Heri had escaped and they had been left with nothing. Less than nothing. No one believed their claim that the king was still alive. They assumed it was all some deception that had gone wrong. A way of diverting suspicion from them. Now the other houses were preparing to attack. The barony of the Fallbrights had become as hated as the king himself had once been.

  Because of that soldiers now patrolled the lands and the towns. Armies were standing ready to defend the city. Defences were being shored up. And they were waiting for the first enemy to come marching on to their land. They were ready for them. At least for the first army to attack.

  But they weren't ready for an enemy that came fro
m the sky.

  It was in the dark of night when the steel drakes came, striking fast and silently from above. No one saw them. No one raised the alarm. Not the guards on the outer walls surrounding the great house. Nor those on its roof patrolling the battlements. Of course it couldn't have helped much if they had. Three steel drakes diving down out of the darkness and then spewing all the fires of the hells upon the house were too many to fight.

  The cannon couldn't protect them. Even if they could have been angled upwards to fire into the sky, the drakes were flying far too fast to hit. Archers were useless. And the wizards who came rushing out in their night clothes to help were little better.

  So the drakes struck and there was nothing that could be done to stop them. Instead they had to endure the attack. But even that was more difficult than any would have believed. The steel drakes' fiery blast wasn't just fire. It was heavy falling down like rain and it came with terrible force. It burst through windows, smashing them apart and broke down the walls surrounding them. And then the fire poured into the rooms, destroying everything in its path and setting it ablaze. It knocked the crenelations off the battlements on the roof and incinerated the soldiers standing guard. It knocked the watch towers over sending burning sentries flying.