The Silas Kane Scrolls (Authors and Dragons Origins Book 2)

by Rick Gualtieri

  “How dare you!” Silas roared, stalking over.

  Gideon smiled. “Finally! Some common sense.”

  Silas walked up to Slug, a furious look upon his face. He grabbed hold of the vile necklace ... then moved it slightly to the side, exposing the upside down hammer carved into Slug’s breastplate. “Never cover up a symbol of Twareg. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Disrespectful?!” Gideon cried. “He’s wearing a fucking necklace made of fingers!”

  Silas merely shrugged. “I don’t recall seeing that listed as a sin.” He pointed toward the necklace. “Just don’t enjoy it too much.”

  “Of course not, mighty Silas Kane. My life is given to suffering for the glory of Twareg.”

  “Excellent. Carry on.” Silas turned back toward the slaves whipping themselves into a frenzy. “You call that bleeding? That won’t even leave a scar.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “You can’t keep ransacking the temples, Silas. They give people hope.”

  “Hope in a false god is no hope at all.”

  “Yes, but they’re neutral. They’ve been taking in casualties from both sides.”

  “And that is why they should be stopped,” Silas said, pounding a fist onto the table – also adorned with an upside down hammer, like nearly everything else in the ill-named compound. “I would sooner be boiled alive by a true believer than to have even a papercut tended to by a minion of the deceiver.”

  “Loradain isn’t a deceiver,” Gideon implored.

  “Her followers worship her, yes?”

  “True.”

  “And they don’t worship Twareg, right?”

  “Also true.”

  “Hah!” Silas proclaimed. “Then that is the deception right there, for a lesser god of any worth would surely direct their followers to drop to their knees before Twareg.”

  “That makes no fucking sense!”

  “Worshipping Twareg isn’t supposed to make sense. That’s what makes it so glorious.”

  Gideon seemed to be at a loss for a comeback, but at that moment Slug entered the war chamber. He was flanked by several former slaves turned guards, all of them wearing makeshift armor adorned with an upside down hammer.

  He walked toward his two fellow leaders in the revolt and held out a scroll. “A messenger was sent from the high castle. He had this with him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Very little after we cut out his tongue.”

  Gideon slapped a hand to his forehead, then took a deep breath. “Fine. What does the scroll say?”

  “No idea. I can’t read.”

  He handed it to Silas, who unfurled it, looked at it for several seconds, then crumbled it up and tossed it into the nearby fire pit. “Feh. I see no parables to Twareg on that.”

  “Oh, for the love of the gods!” Gideon grabbed the scroll before it could burn up and took a look. “It’s not a prayer book to Twareg.”

  “Hence why I burnt it.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes at the two, then went back to reading the scroll. “This is a direct entreaty from Rhex Teleghar.”

  “Who?” Silas idly asked, dancing his hand over the flames of the fire pit.

  “He’s the high magistrate of Kel.”

  Silas looked up from where his fingers were starting to sizzle. “Wait. You mean the infernal demon who casts his unholy shadow upon this place?”

  “No,” Gideon replied. “He’s the duly appointed ruler of this city. And he’s not a demon, he’s an infernling.”

  “And those are?”

  “They’re a race of humanoids, mostly from the south where it’s warm,” Slug said.

  “Exactly,” Gideon agreed. “They’re merely another race, no different than any other intelligent...”

  “It’s also said their ancestors cavorted with creatures from the pit.”

  “What?!” Silas roared.

  Gideon’s eyes opened in panic. He held up his hands in supplication. “It’s not like that. It was in the distant past, eons ago.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s like ... err ... wyrmkind. You’ve seen them around, right?”

  “No.”

  “Of course you have! Milo is one of them.” He pointed to one of Slug’s guards, a large reptilian humanoid covered in greenish scales.

  “Hmm, I just thought he was extra skilled at beating himself and was covered in festering wounds.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Gideon sighed. “But anyway, my point is that his ancestors mated with dragons. So now some of their descendants still have wings or tails, but it doesn’t make them actual dragons.”

  “How does one mate with a dragon?” Slug asked.

  Gideon’s face went blank. “Um, I have no idea. But that doesn’t matter. Infernlings are no more demons than wyrmkind are dragons.”

  Silas narrowed his eyes. “But they have demon blood in their veins, yes?”

  “Technically, but it’s not their fault. They were just born that way. They didn’t ask to have red skin or horns.”

  “Neither did I!” Silas boomed. “Not that I have either. What I mean is I didn’t ask to be born a human. If given the choice, surely I would have been birthed as one of Twareg’s chosen. But I wasn’t. And now I carry the eternal sin of my parents’ fornication within me.”

  “You can’t blame your parents.”

  “Of course I can. Twareg does, and he makes it known to me every night in my dreams while he repeatedly rips off my arms and beats me with them for the sin of my failure.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Slug said. “Twareg hates us for being human, so wouldn’t he hate someone with demon blood even more?”

  Gideon’s mouth dropped open. “No! Think about this real hard, Silas.”

  “I am, and it sounds to me like Twareg demands we remove this creature’s stain from upon the world, so that he might despise us slightly less.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You were born a human, so Twareg considers you inferior, right?”

  “Of course. And I praise him for it every...”

  “Yeah, yeah, we all know that. What I meant is that in order to win Twareg’s favor you have to work that much harder, correct?”

  “One as lowly as me can never win Twareg’s...”

  Gideon held up a hand. “I get it. I meant in order for Twareg to hate you less.”

  Silas nodded emphatically. “Yes. Because of the stain of my lineage, Twareg demands I suffer. He will accept nothing less.”

  “Praise Twareg!” Slug shouted, which led to the others in the room doing the same.

  Five minutes later, once the praising had died down, Gideon was able to speak again. “Well, then if you have to work that much harder to appease Twareg, how hard do even more ... vile creatures have to work?”

  Silas raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

  “Think about it. I mean truly think. What if a demon wanted to change its ways. How would they do that?”

  “They’d find a true warrior of Twareg and die by their hand.”

  “But ... what if they thought they could do more good by living? What if they wanted to repent and dedicate their life to helping people ... err, I mean toward serving Twareg’s will?”

  “Twareg would demand their blood, sweat, and tears. A lot of tears.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Gideon implored. “This scroll says that Rhex wants to meet with the leaders of the rebellion to discuss peace. He doesn’t want to see any more bloodshed. He wants to find a solution that we can all come to terms with ... and doesn’t leave the city a smoldering ruin.” At Silas’s blank look, he continued. “I believe he’s finally ... beginning to understand the wisdom of Twareg. Perhaps he’s trying to repent, and this is his first step.”

  “It could be a trap,” Slug offered.

  “Could be,” Gideon echoed. “Or he could be trying to do what’s right. Rhex is known for being level-headed and approachable. Cruel but fair. I think he’s trying to do
what’s best for this city, which right now means listening to what we have to say.”

  “But what about Twareg?” Silas asked.

  Gideon let out a pained sigh. “What would Twareg want more: a dead demon, or another servant to beat himself senseless while screaming his name?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “I think Twareg would want the latter. Don’t we owe it to him to give Rhex a chance? We could bring peace back to Kel, maybe improve everyone’s lives a little while we’re at it.”

  “But they would all still whip themselves for Twareg, right?”

  “Yes, they would still whip themselves for Twareg,” Gideon replied deadpan.

  “Then I say we see what this filthy demon has to offer. And may Twareg look down and smile, knowing that one day he will be able to flay the skin from all our wretched hides.”

  A MEETING OF THE MINDLESS

  A temporary ceasefire was called in the civil war gripping Kel – a chance for both sides to tend to their wounded, mourn their dead, and dig in with their defenses.

  It was made known that Rhex Teleghar, high magistrate of Kel, against the wishes of his advisors, was seeking to meet with the leaders of the rebellion so as to find a peaceful solution.

  As a show of good faith for this meeting, the city’s standing army – backed by fresh troops from the Kingdom – was ordered to hold fast outside the city’s walls.

  Within the city itself, the mood was tense but hopeful. The masses of former slaves held onto the dream of a better life, one in which they were not merely fodder for the wealthy and powerful. On the other side, the high lords of Kel wished to see their beloved city continue to stand tall – preferably with their livelihoods left intact. Both factions understood what the other wanted and what that potentially meant for each other, but there was hope nevertheless that perhaps some middle ground could be reached before Kel was reduced to rubble.

  Despite Silas being the public face of the rebellion, Gideon took the lead in negotiating a time and place for the peace summit. It was understood that he, as a former chief servant, knew the most about diplomacy and was likewise the only one among their number who had even a passing interest in how it worked.

  Messengers raced back and forth between the two warring factions, and at last, an agreement was reached that would allow them to sit down and try to hammer out their differences.

  Neutral ground was chosen – a small temple dedicated to The Dueling Gods. It had been abandoned as the rebellion spread, and now sat unoccupied. It was also not lost upon either side that the nature of the two deities seemed fitting for the struggle currently threatening to consume Kel. However, to account for the specific quirks of at least one of the rebellion’s leaders, all statues, fetishes, or depictions of the gods were either removed or covered for the purposes of the summit.

  The leadership of both contingents would be allowed in, three from each side, along with a small honor guard of armed escorts just in case the talks broke down.

  As the day of the summit dawned, Silas, Gideon, and Slug made their way to the temple with a ragtag group of former slaves flanking them.

  “Today is a good day, friends!” Silas proclaimed.

  Slug grunted in acknowledgement, but Gideon merely groused, “I hope so.”

  “It is, for today marks a new beginning for Kel.”

  “One in which slavery is abolished and all men are free?”

  “Yes. Free to worship Twareg.”

  “That is one aspect of freedom, I suppose,” Gideon replied, “but what if they choose to worship someone else?”

  “There is no one else, for all the false gods shall be driven from this city. People will be free to praise Twareg or die as heretics.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely the point of...”

  “We shouldn’t even be wasting our time with this,” Slug said. “Teleghar will be there in the flesh. We should have our people strike the temple, make sure he doesn’t escape. Once he’s dead, the opposition will crumble and Kel will be ours. We’ll string up the old masters from the walls and declare ourselves an independent city-state.”

  Gideon gave him the side eye. “That’s not really why we’re here either.”

  Slug turned to Silas. “I have an idea. You paladins are supposed to be able to sense evil in the hearts of men and beasts. Why don’t you concentrate on doing that during the meeting? Focus on those dogs seated at the other end of the table. If you sense any deceit, then we strike first.”

  “Good idea,” Silas said. He closed his eyes for a moment, then cried out, “I sense wickedness everywhere!”

  “No, not now. When they...”

  Gideon sighed heavily. “There will be no deceit! Both sides want to end the killing in a way that makes life better for everyone. Can we at least agree on that?”

  “Yes,” Silas said.

  “Good...”

  “We end the killing so we can make life better ... for worshipping Twareg.”

  “Here’s a thought: why don’t I do most of the talking?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As far as negotiations between warring parties went, the trappings were sparse but functional – another compromise. It was neither the opulent finery that the high lords of Kel were used to, nor was it the dingy griminess that those fated to be slaves were forced to live in.

  Silas and his two companions sat in simple wooden seats at one end of a long table that had been placed in the central hall of the temple. Their guards were allowed to wait at the periphery of the room.

  Once they were settled, the other contingent arrived. Guards wearing gleaming armor bearing the royal seal of Kel marched in, a stark contrast to the rebellion’s makeshift weaponry scavenged from the corpses of the dead.

  Next came Rhex’s two advisors. The first was a human wearing opulent robes of red and silver. Enough gold hung from his neck to purchase all of the former slaves on Silas’s side of the room at least twice over.

  “That’s Barnabas Sykelian,” Gideon whispered to his two fellows. “He’s one of the richest men in Kel, owns the entire dock quarter. His family has been here since the very beginning and he’s got his fingers in just about everything. They say he gets first pick of any goods arriving at the...”

  “Unless his fingers are in Twareg, then what does it matter?” Silas muttered before looking past the richly clad human. “What the?!”

  “Oh my,” Gideon replied at the sight of the next advisor. “This is a surprise.”

  A rugged looking dwarf had entered the room. His salt and pepper beard was adorned with jewels of every color imaginable, and he wore polished armor of the highest quality. Across his back lay a battle-axe that gleamed as if it were made of solid silver.

  Silas bolted from his chair, but before he could take so much as a single step, Gideon put a hand on his shoulder and guided him back down. “His name is Thuron Banegaard. He owns a mithril mine about twenty leagues outside of town. Buys a lot of slaves here and hires scores of mercenaries, too, but he’s usually not considered one of the high lords since he so seldom makes an appearance.”

  Slug leaned over. “What do you think the chances are he was purposely brought in, knowing the banner we march under?”

  Gideon glanced sidelong at Silas, noticing the awestruck look in the young paladin’s eyes. “Offhand, I’d say pretty high.”

  However, if Silas was mesmerized by the stately image of the dwarf, it was undone by the grimace he made as the final member of the opposing contingent entered.

  Rhex Teleghar, high lord magistrate of Kel, was large even for an infernling. Nearly seven feet tall on his own, he added another several inches thanks to the spiral of pitch black horns which protruded from either side of his head, matching the color of his eyes. His skin was nearly ruby red in color, which greatly accentuated his muscular frame. Indeed he appeared far more a warrior than one accustomed to sitting upon a throne.

  Gideon turned toward Silas to make the final introdu
ction, but then a look of pure horror crossed his face as he saw Silas’s hand reaching back toward his quiver.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “What I was born to do,” Silas replied, his eyes locked on Rhex’s demonic visage.

  “Did you forget what we talked about?”

  Silas glanced in his direction and shrugged. “Err ... something about Twareg?”

  “No! About infernlings and how they’re just trying to do good and how they need to work all that much harder and ... oh, forget it. Sit still and don’t kill him!”

  “But...”

  “Twareg doesn’t want you to.”

  “How do you know that?” Silas asked dubiously.

  “Um ... well ... I had a vision of our lord last night.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep. He appeared right in front of me. Told me to keep you from doing anything stupid today.”

  “Oh, well, that’s different then.” Silas relaxed in his chair. “Twareg’s will be done!”

  Gideon shook his head and muttered, “We are so doomed.”

  “In the eyes of Twareg, all are.”

  If the other side heard their exchange, they gave it no heed. The three took their places at the opposite end of the table. Barnabas and Thuron took their seats, but Rhex remained standing, his imposing figure casting a long shadow.

  “Welcome, my friends,” he said in a smooth voice that belied his frame. “Dark times have recently fallen upon Kel and our streets threaten to run red with blood. People have been displaced from their homes and...” He paused to glance at his surroundings. “Their places of worship as well. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel this was inevitable.”

  Rhex placed his muscled arms behind his back and took a deep breath. “Times are changing within the Kingdom, and perhaps this is a sign that we should change, too. Kel has prospered for many years, but maybe those of us sitting on high have grown too fat off the labors of others.” He leaned down and stared at the men across from him, his tone serious. “I am well aware there have been uprisings in the past. And I can’t help but think that, even if we were to put this one down, we shall simply find ourselves seated at this table another day ... the cycle repeating itself. Rather than heed the advice of my council or the actions of my forefathers, I think perhaps I would like to break this chain now so that my sons...”