“Aye, it is! Ye’ be the Marshall o’ the South, Tannek. Do ye’ wish to ask mercy?” Rallik was pleading with his angry tones, hoping Tannek would take a knee.
“Mercy? For findin’ the lineage and proof that Azenairk Thalanaxe has rights to Kakisteele? That we have a king here in our city, right now? That the place did, and does, exist? Mercy, for findin’ the truth? Naye, to hell with yer’ laws and decrees, I be keepin’ me honor. Bring Azenairk here, let us show him what we found.” Tannek heard the moans from his brother, the High Hammer, and the shocked gasps of hundreds gathered. The murmurs and whispers started, then were silenced as both kings slammed their weapon heads to the stone for silence.
“We do not have any king in Marlennak besides the two o’ us right here. Whether yer’ findings be true or no, doesn’t matter Tannek. They all left last night out the South doors, the ones ye’ were supposed to be guardin’. Yer’ men let yer’ stupid lion-man take them out for a scout, and they headed west. Dalliunn returned alone, with Thalanaxe’s warhammer.” Rallik sighed, knowing this was serious indeed.
“Bein’ ye’ was thinkin’ o’ doin’ some good, likely for yerselves or foreigners, we kings will make an offer o’ mercy. Those thick heads o’ yers better accept it. Only for that, and yer’ esteemed titles and positions here in Marlennak, I offer one hundred years each, in the mines. Brother?” Therrak passed his judgement, slamming his axe to the stone.
“Agreed.” Rallik tapped his warhammer reluctantly and lowered his crowned head.
“Naye!” Tannek stood tall and yelled it. “I say naye!”
“Brother, what are ye’ doin? We are dead, thrown into the crevice or beheaded otherwise. Shut yer’ beard fool!”
“Naye!”
The dwarves, from kings, to soldiers, to priests and nobles; all rose in disbelief. They shouted for death, for Tannek Anduvann to be charged without mercy, and they roared at his insolence.
“Ye’ understand the alternative, Marshall?” King Rallik sat back in his throne, trying to figure what his man was doing.
“Aye.”
“Ye’ be a fool of a dwarf, a disrespectful southern whelp! Ye’ spit mercy back at me? I spit at you, Tannek Anduvann!” King Therrak spat on the ground, a bit stuck in his red beard, then spat again with rage.
“I be a fool? I say ye’ are the fool, King Therrak!” Tannek grabbed a mug from the table as the crowd gasped and silenced at the insult.
“Ye cannot challenge a king, Marshall!” Therrak boomed from his throne.
“Why? Is that law then? Or is it cuz’ ye’ be all yellow and green on yer’ backside still sittin’ on yer’ potty-throne, like King Rallik says?” Tannek drank the mug down, slammed it to the stone, and glared at the northern king.
“I could have ye’ killed for breathin’ right now, I should see ye’ drawn and quartered in front o’ the whole kingdom!”
“That would be easier, aye it would. Have someone do it for ye’ then, coward. Or, ye’ can face me at the table here, like a dwarf.” Tannek glared, the king glared back, sweat dripped from everyone as fear took hold.
“Kings challenge! Five mugs, five flasks! I win, ye’ die a horrible death of an insolent southern dwarf, in public fashion, not worthy of a grave or marker that ye’ ever was!” Therrak stepped from his throne as applause and roaring cheer shook the entire castle.
“I accept! And if I win, me brother, the High Hammer, and myself take the remains of Sheldathain and the Southern Outguard Scout o’ four hundred dwarves and is exiled to the west instead! Ye’ keep yer’ hundred years in the mines, and shove em’ where the picks don’t dig! Do ye’ accept, King Therrak?!” Tannek countered the challenge, not wanting to live a hundred years victorious in the mines, bragging to the stone.
Silent again, all dwarves looking to Therrak, then to King Rallik, then to the three in the middle of the challenge tables that the northern king approached. Therrak thought, too late to back down now, I would look less than confident if I did not accept. Must look invinceable here, I cannot lose, I drink all day and night, all I do is drink, I got nearly a century on this young one here. He won’t win anyway, who cares about some lost armor, what ye’ sayin’ Therrak? See this one dead n’ drink him down…”
“I accept!” It just came out, the moment seemed to rule his words. The gathered dwarves went into a state of frenzy, complete disbelief that this could ever happen. A king had never been challenged, let alone accepted.
The dwarves stood on tables, chairs, even each other to get a good view of the table. King Therrak of the North and the City faced Marshall Tannek Anduvann of the Southern Outguard. They cheered and chanted as five steel mugs of speak-mead, and five flasks of whiskey were placed in front of each man. The dwarves of Marlennak chanted, stomped their feet, and pounded tables, all with death or exile on the line.
“Vuumber!”
“Vuumber!”
“Vuumber!”
Angeline III:III
Tunnels Beneath the Tower of Kalzarius, City of Harlaheim
“He is asleep, he will need much rest. Have water and food ready when he awakens. The wound was deep.” Angeline looked down to Richmond the Second. He was healed by her touch, she had asked the ground below her feet, and the stone answered with golden light that had gone through her hands. Now, he lay peaceful. She had given the ring to Kalzarius before he left to raise the protections of his tower.
Sir Sebastian knelt next to him in the dark cavernous passage. Balric leaned his back to the wall, deep in thought. Prince Edians of Caberra stood next to Angeline, the woman that had appeared in the fog carrying the bleeding King of Harlaheim. They all waited for Kalzarius to return, waited to see if the men in the shadows had managed to follow them, and waited for someone to speak. The bells had rung, the king was declared dead, and the five of them ran and hid under the tunnels below the tower where the old wizard had led them.
“What sort of God do you pray to that would allow this man to be healed, lady knight?” Balric broke the silence.
“I do not pray to any God, but to all that would listen.”
“Must be a demon indeed, to have mercy on Richmond the Second.”
“And why does a Harlian hate his king so?” Prince Edians interjected.
“He is not worthy of the blood in his veins. He corrupts his kingdom with deals and treachery. He kills and has others kill and wage war, I know, I have been tracing his steps for years throughout three kingdoms.” Balric spat, seeing this man saved was the last thing he cared to view now that he was free of the necklace and Johnas Valhera.
“That is my king you are speaking of, bells or no bells, bishop.” Sir Sebastian looked up from his kneeling, hands on his rapier that he had been resting his head upon.
“I am no bishop, I am a high ranking agent of the Aldane Order, the Broken Wing of the Crossguard Legion. My mission has been to counter or cut all the connections our king has to illicit dealings, and report them. Church and others, there were so many. You serve as a knight to a child and a butcher, Sebastian. Time to wake up.”
“Mind your tongue, traitor. Or I will wet my blade with your blood. The only treachery has been that of the man you arrived with, the Prince of Valhirst.” Sebastian stood, staring at Balric.
“I am well aware of Prince Johnas, and agreed, he is from the pit of hell itself. He has controlled me with that necklace long enough to know he needs to become a corpse. But, the Cardinal is under his control as well, he is a doppelganger of some renown among his kind, named Arilli. There is much you do not know.”
“Then where is the real cardinal, spy?”
“Dead. The shapeshifters kill those they assume before they go public in disguise. Johnas said he was dead before the Legion reached the Harlaheim border. Now, they control the Crossguard Legion that is here, nine thousand men.”
“That is my uncle you speak of. How could you let this happen?” Sebastian had known something was wrong with the Cardinal, now he knew what it was.
“If you were Harlian, you would put a stop to this, or help anyway you could.” Sebastian was bitter. He knew some of the battles and sieges had reeked of foul play, the one he and the late Bernardus and Florin led on this very tower above him sat on his mind.
“I am Harlian. I am loyal to the church of Alden and my order. To see Johnas dead, his doppelganger with him, would serve all three, and our ruthless king. I will kill Johnas, then I must find my contacts in Shanador and report in.” Balric drew his saber, then his shortblade, checking the edges.
“As long as we are all divulging our secrets, here and now, I am afraid I must reveal.” Prince Edians drew his shamshir, then tossed it to the ground.
He continued after the quiet stares had lingered.
“I am not a Prince of Caberra, son of a king, nor brother to Rosana, wherever she is, dead or alive. I am Sir Rodreigo Dell Amarr, Lord Knight of the Order de San Tarum in San Tevida, Caberra. I was sent by my king, my order, and the church to pose as a Prince and gain access to the upper nobility responsible for the deaths of Sir Sulian, Sir Savanno, and possibly the Queen.”
“Why such deception then, Sir Rodreigo? Why not a formal investigation?” Sebastian was at his breaking point, so much confusion over the last week had his head in pain.
“Lord Dell Amarr will do, if you would.” He corrected.
“Fine, Lord Dell Amarr, just answer, would you?”
“After what your king, this one here, ordered on his own people? He wages war, slays knights, burns cities, and lays siege to anyone with power or honor that could threaten him. He beheaded a bishop on false papers that have somehow disappeared. No king in his right mind, especially after losing a daughter, would send their son here to talk to Richmond the Second. Not unless they had an army behind them and a blade in their hand.” The Lord of Castle Dell Amarr and knight of the sacred order continued.
“I assumed that I would be marked to die, you see, Richmond would have me killed. Those six men in the shadows, they were mine own. I had also hoped that other corrupt nobility would be revealed by my disguise, and so it was. The cardinal who changed my trade agreements, the Prince of Chazzrynn who had a false Bishop at his side, and Sir Phillip even.”
“Sir Phillip? No, not possible, he and I have been like brothers since we were knighted nearly a decade ago. We serve the king of Harlaheim, good or bad, we serve.” Sebastian was angry, looking around for his sworn brother of the crown and rose, even though he knew they were all alone.
“Then where is he, Sir Sebastian? You see the three people around you, I believe they are the only ones you can trust. The wizard perhaps, but in truth, your troubled kingdom is about to have new leadership. Who is the Seneschal?” Rodreigo smiled.
“Phillip?”
“Yes, and where is he now?”
“With the Cardinal, tolling the bells, and…”
“And accepting his crown most likely, yes. I had not thought it would happen this quickly, but Johnas Valhera is behind it, Caberra is sure of it.”
Balric was surprised, assuming he was the only one that could know, having been next to the Prince of Valhirst for so long. “How is it that you know this, as it is indeed accurate? Who is Caberra’s spy?”
“No spy. We pay for information in gold. Katrina Willborne sold Johnas out for a beautiful keep just south of the city of Ispirra, in my kingdom. She has been selling her notes to us throughout her mercenary years. Her hopes of a united nation of Willborne had dried up the last few, and she finally wished to retire. Richmond would have been wise to pay her fee, but we all know he is a fool. He had Sulian and Savanno murdered, and thought he would not be the suspect, that the Order would overlook it. He deserves this, his people do not, but he does indeed.” Lord Knight Dell Amarr sat back down, tired in the early hours of morning.
“Now what?” Balric looked to Angeline, but there was no one there.
“Where did she go?” Sir Sebastian turned, nothing.
“How long has she been gone?” Rodreigo was stunned as well, he never saw her leave.
Sebastian looked over the body of his sleeping king, laying peaceful on his side. He went to remove the bandage, then noticed Richmond’s eyes were wide open. Tears streaming silently from each one, his shoulder soaked with sadness in the cavern. Sebastian felt his stomach ache, his heart and chest rippled with pain, his throat tightened. He lowered his head on the pommel of his rapier.
“Your majesty?” As he whispered, both Balric and Rodreigo took a knee, hoping he had not been awake long.
“Your majesty, how much did you hear?”
“I heard enough, I heard it all.” Richmond had been awake since Angeline’s words about his rest had stirred him.
Sulking in his own remorse, hearing what others around the continent thought of him, all his secrets revealed, Richmond sobbed out loud at the monster he had become. He looked through watery eyes, laying in a cavern below the ground as a monster should, hoping one of them would simply put their blade through him and end his miserable life. A thousand blades could not hurt as much as the emptiness he felt right now. He missed Javiel, who he had killed. Florin who betrayed him, Rosana who had never loved him, and now Phillip and Johnas Valhera had his kingdom. Sulian and Savanno who were his bravest, and now most deceased knights, and even Kalzarius despised him. The church, Caberra, Chazzrynn, even his own people required bloodshed and victory to even notice him. It came, wave after wave, relentless his thoughts and feelings were. Yet, he lay there, sobbing uncontrollably with three brave men behind him in silence, the king of Harlaheim had been saved by a woman and doubted he deserved even that. Besides his own death, Richmond wanted nothing more of this world. He assumed the feeling was mutual. The outloud cries had no words, no shame, no humility, just streamed from a broken man that was once king. They sat silent, listening to his cries.
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The stone gave way, loosed in silent reformation, and Angeline of Charity walked into the alleyway near L’Herrim Castle. She had traveled through the very stone, nearly half a mile, where no one could see. She thanked the stone and the earth with her thoughts, the stone wall quickly molding back to normal as if nothing had just emerged. The sun was rising in the west, the shadows grew quickly from the spires of central Harlaheim, and the bells tolled once more as plumes of purple smoke rose from hundreds of buildings in respect for the monarch all believed was deceased.
She met the crowd that gathered, blending in with her hood of dark green over her head and her sacred sword hid under the robes over her back. She listened to the air, the breeze carried messages to her mind.
Leave them to their decisions, you can be of no more help here. Your journey is to the west, the daughter of Lazlette, you will see when you find her. Do not cry for the kingdom or the wickedness that governs it, these are not your concerns. They will unfold as they need to, without you. To the west my child, to the west…
Angeline listened, but she still had to see evil for what it was, she wanted to try and pierce the disguise of the shapeshifter beside the Prince of Valhirst. She wanted to know how she could not read him, and what his sword was. The people thickened, space to move dissolved, and the square was overrun with citizens. The lady of the Knights Soujan listened to their thoughts humming in the air.
Well he didn’t live long then, wonder how he died?
Poor king, hope they gut the one that killed him…
He was worthless anyway, hope they throw bread again…
First the Bishop, then the king, who is next to die…
Harlaheim hasn’t had a ruler worth the smoke in so long…
God bless his family and his knights, Alden save us…
Closer to the balcony she writhed and shoved, weaving past children and beggars, merchants and women,
and men of the great city that had been through so much. It was quiet, even for morning, with so many thousands packed tight. The Cardinal approached, white and blue robes with a golden feathered cross atop his ordained hat. He waved his hand, the crowd grew louder, he waved more with both hands to silence them and made the symbol of the cross then circled it. People fell to their knees, bowed, repeated the holy salutation over and over. Tears fell, children wailed, women cried aloud.
Angeline focused, on the creature in the guise of the most powerful man of the church in the Aldane world. His thoughts were tight, he was trying to conceal them. She hummed, Charity hummed, and she tried harder.
Yes, yes, no one here knows, I am the Cardinal, I ate his brains and his heart I did. Where is this alden god thing now, I do not see him here, no, no. Morsels to feast for my children to come, growing in me, yes ten there are, time to come soon. Ariili’s little ones will eat their way out of him and have a city to dine upon, yes, yes.
The visions accompanied the thoughts, she had tried too hard. Her mind shook off the sight of pale skinned creatures with black eyes and fangs eating their way out of a larger one like them. They devoured and grew, devoured and grew, then she closed her eyes and focused on something else to stop it. Angeline felt ill, she looked up, and saw it.
Wrinkled skin, bloated white flesh, it was bulging at the midsection. No sign of a cord from birth, no parts of a man or woman between its legs, just naked white flesh with black claws on its feet and hands. It looked in pain, struggling to stand, its enlarged solid black eyes were dull, its pointy ears hung limp from a hairless head. The stomach moved and shifted, things moving underneath, and this doppelganger that only Angeline saw through, wrapped its hands over them as if they may burst out.
Just seeing through its ability to disguise its flesh was enough for Angeline, she was now holding her own stomach. She breathed slow, in and out, calming herself and letting her vision return to normal. The crowd rose once more, hands in the air and tears ran down tired faces. The bells tolled again in the distance. Phillip stepped forward, Johnas behind him. The people silenced with Seneschal Phillip’s raised hand.
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains Page 38