“Trecht would be disconcerting, but our own, Lord Commander?” Ian asked. “Your orders were clear. We take the ports, then proceed south, avoid the forestlands and the beasts.”
“He is sayin’ that someone disobeyed,” Lucas offered brusquely, crossing his arms. “We got someone who thought he would make a name for himself, defiant and all that. At least we better hope some little shit thought that up. We are all dead if the Cleaver Prince has sailed.”
“Serenity, there,” Rafael pointed to the far west, towards a small village with little else around it. “Sacked, our tokens left behind. Ser Elin Durand was there.”
“A ploy to spur him to action—or remove him from the board?” Ashleigh asked with a deepening grimace. “It would not be the worst the priesthood has done.”
Rafael wished the priesthood were to blame. If they were, it would make matters easier. As it stood, there was little hope of that.
“Whatever it portends, none of it is good. Ian,” Rafael turned to the sentinel. “I want a small band to brave the Northlands, and seek out the ruins of Serenity. We must know of what befell it, and if Ser Elin is still alive. A small party, who knows no more than they must.” If blame fell upon the Sentinels of Umbrage, Rafael resolved to know by whose orders.
“I will see to it, Lord Commander,” Ian said, inclining his head.
“Now this concerns our eyes alone,” Rafael scrounged through the satchel and produced a worn parchment. “It is what we must seek,”
The sentinels leaned in towards the drawing of a crystalline rock, thickly veined.
It is because of this, and the monster who brought it, that this madness reigns. “An Animus Stone it is called. A long-lost relic of the imperium’s treasury. We are tasked to retrieve it.”
“The imperator’s true intent for the war revealed,” Lucas bellowed. “All for a pretty little rock.”
“It is more than a rock,” Rafael replied sternly. “One was brought to the throne room. It should not be taken lightly.” The memory of it, the faint voice in his head, and the dark, foreboding glare of Lord Kaldred was seared in his memory.
“Are you implying, Lord Commander,” Ian began, looking back inquisitively. “That there is more to Lord Kaldred than meets the eye?”
“We will serve, as we always have, Ian,” Rafael growled. He did not wish to discuss that implication, not even in the grace of the sentinels he trusted most. “Amongst whatever doubts, I will see to the relic when we find it.”
“You have a lead, then?” Ashleigh asked.
“Here, in Talin,” Rafael pointed towards the middle of the map. “The Dalians call it the Gateway to the North. It is a large township filled with merchants, bankers, and magisters. Naught reaches the Northlands without passing through it.”
“The Dalians would not have forgotten that either,” Ian pressed. “If knowledge of the Animus Stone dwells in Talin, would Lutessa not recall it to Dale, or worse, across the sea?”
“I have been assured it remains there.”
“You bore us, Lord Commander. Treasure hunt, pah!” Lucas declared. “Worse things there would be. I will see to things ‘ere, if that is all.”
“That is all,” Rafael replied.
“If it is all the same, Lord Commander, I would send out scouts,” Ian pressed.
“See it done.”
Lucas and Ian bowed their heads and left. Ashleigh did not move; she just looked at him longingly, careworn and concerned. “You fear Lord Kaldred?”
Rafael feared the stranger far more than he dare admit. The dark counsellor’s presence was unnerving. Lord Kaldred was a horror that commanded naught more than blind servitude.
Is that not what I have done here? Have I not demanded that of my sentinels?
“I do not understand him,” Rafael protested. “Nor why our sovereign permits him so. This war is foolhardy and wreckless, though that can no longer be said before the Mountain. If you could but of heard Ser Jacob’s words, Ashleigh, if Argath Diomedes, Aleksander Avrill, the Ruling Council heard it, this madness would end. What I am ordering our sentinels to do, the innocents we butcher. It is rank madness.”
Ashleigh pressed her hands against his breastplate, groping for the clasps. “They were our friends once, but our loyalty is to the Mountain, even if we cannot understand the mind of our dear sovereign.”
Rafael instinctively unclasped her breastplate with shaking hands. “It not his mind, Ashleigh. It is Lord Kaldred’s he—”
He spoke to much already. Ashleigh knelt, unclasping the leg plates, removing his boots, leaving him to his smallclothes. His hands still shook, and she took his hands, guided them, and her armour fell to the floor.
“We may not have this chance for some time,” Ashleigh whispered whilst pressing against him. “I do believe our old friend will meet us soon, and when he does—”
Rafael cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “Do not fear him. I do not. Our cause may not be just, but the Order of Light is a shell of what it was. The priests will not let him take the field. Old men will be sent against us. Like Ser Jacob Merlen, they will fall.”
Ashleigh pushed him back, wrapped her legs around him, kissing him deeply against the wall, and whispered into his ear. “They will. But now, let me forget.”
Rafael forgot, ‘til the rising of the sun.
Chapter Five
The Corsair
Daniel looked out from the prow of the Black Tide.
The sea raged and seethed, and a cold, black wind whipped his cloak around. Rain dripped down his battered leathern armour, and he saw the sight of land only through loud, crackling bolts of lightning. The waves crashed against the tall cliffs in the distance, and a grim, stunted castle sat at its perch.
Home.
He bellowed out orders; the crew pulled at the rigging, and the black sails flapped. The ship navigated through sharp rock spires, and into the darkened cavern beneath the cliffs. It was Lanan’s hidden harbour, under the Overlord’s Seat.
The natural harbour was dank and dark, with crude light fluttering from wide, tall walls, and dangling rock spires stretched down from the dark ceiling above. It was quiet, save for the small crew that docked the great dromond. Daniel clamoured down to the dock, waving away men dismissively.
He made at once for the stone stair at the back left of the harbour, intent on the Overlord’s Seat. Daniel needed answers, whatever the overlord’s moods would portend.
Loyalties be damned.
Weeks before casting off to the northern seas, he argued that allowing the imperium to sail westward was not only foolish, but risked their own demise: there was a new king in Trecht, and the combined might of Isilia, Dalia, and Lanan was all that kept even a fragile peace.
Though those brothers feign a distance from their deceased king, I have seen too much familiarity to doubt it. He does not sit the throne, but Adreyu is too much like his father, and holds far too much power.
The Harpy lent her voice in support, though it proved futile.
“Let them spill each other’s blood in the grasslands,” the overlord mused from his seat. “They will be weakened, and the cretins will be brought to heel.”
“You forget the king in Trecht,” Daniel had protested. “They will smell blood in the water.”
“I dare not forget those wretches, no more than you have. Watch them.”
Daniel had obeyed those orders for weeks since the imperium set sail for the Dalian Northlands. He let them pass; his own vessels were no more than wisps and shadows to their look outs. He lay in wait in the rougher, colder waters north of the Dalian mainland, though his eyes were ever westward. Naught but the gods of the Deep Below had stirred, but word reached him of Lakarn’s fallen son.
Damian will answer for that.
The long halls of the Overlord’s Seat were eerie in the midnight gloom; the torchlight was dull and weak, the patter of feet faded and faint. Daniel trudged up the wooden stairs to the top floor of the castle.
&nb
sp; The upper hall was carpeted end to end in a deep, rich crimson, though it was muddied and smeared. Shallow basins of water ran upon the left, while the walls to the right were adorned with murals of subjugation and domination of Trecht, Isilia, and Dalia. He thought it was naught but blind hubris, but the overlord insisted on reminding every man and woman who held sway in the realm.
It is your dominion, but it is I that keeps it.
In the middle of the hall were a pair of twin oaken doors, and two of his Crimson Swords stood guard, though their faces were shadowed.
“Where is Davat?” Daniel growled. “It is his place to guard the overlord.”
“Sent on an errand,” the man on the left said with his dark eyes raised.
“Where?” Daniel demanded
“‘Tis not our place to question the overlord,” the other man replied with a stern face. “We stand here until the captain’s return.”
I do not like this. “Open the doors.”
Inside the chamber there was no sound but the running water to either side, and no presence hidden in the fat pillars that ran along the walls. At the end was the immense, ornate throne of the overlord, and twin sculptures of lions at the side.
A mockery of where we had come from, and a reminder of who the true threat is.
The overlord sat in his place, with his legs propped on top of the right arm rest. He sat in a crimson nightgown, fingering the gilded scabbard that housed his bastard sword Turmoil. His long, blonde locks were dishevelled, resting on his chest. A scowl crept across his face.
“Defiance does not suit you, Corsair,” Overlord Damian Dannars mocked from his seat, barely raising his eyes. “I am not so lost to the sea that you can watch for signs of the Trechtian fleet from my own halls, heh. I thought you loyal.”
I have remained loyal, even through your madness. “Davat is meant to guard your persons and your throne.”
“Your insistence upon guards is utterly wasteful. Davat is above such duty. Much as you are by returning here.”
“Where is he?”
Daniel stared resolutely at the overlord, and saw specs of anger in Damian’s eyes: dark and maligned. It was unsettling.
“You forget yourself. We rose to power together, Daniel, but that does not give you leave to subvert my throne.” The overlord looked to rise, though he just burst out laughing. “He will return here shortly to guard me, rest assured. There was some matter in southern Isilia. It will not be long.”
What concerned the overlord in a dry, dead land, Daniel did not know. Nor did he suspect his old friend. It was simply a puzzle that did not seem to fit. He pushed it aside. He journeyed long on a matter of far more importance.
“Luc Endrast,” he said coldly.
“What of him?”
“I know where he was, not where he is going.”
“Nor will you,” Damian said, swinging his legs around. “He may serve under your command, but you serve me. I may use your swords as I see fit, and I will not be questioned for it.”
Daniel ne’er forgot the day that he and the Harpy found Luc Endrast. The port town of Lakarn was dead, corpses piled up, faces frozen in shock and terror; and the boy stood with sword in hand, flailing at unseen foes. What the lad saw or feared Daniel had not learned, and the overlord was silent if he knew aught at all.
Still, the boy was taken in, and the overlord demanded him trained. Day and night Daniel worked the sword with the lad, and even in the light of day Luc’s eyes were darkened, and his moods were sour and foul.
He was my strongest sword, and Damian’s most guarded weapon.
“Serenity was no different from Lakarn,” Daniel seethed. “It was he who rent it asunder—with the imperium’s steel.”
“So that is why you returned,” the overlord cackled, leaning back in his throne. “Yes, I sent him to that sleepy hamlet. He had his instructions, and has carried them out.”
Of course he knew, I was a fool to doubt it. “Slaying Ser Elin Durand’s family was part of it?”
“A necessary sacrifice. Isilia and Dalia must be left weak, broken, and irreconcilable. The priesthood will undoubtedly turn to their fallen knight, but not before half their country is lost. Ser Elin will lay waste to whatever remains of the imperium. Heh, the Marcanas brothers will not hesitate to strike at the weakness. You see, my friend, whence Lanan joins with Ser Elin, the old kingdom will fall at last. The realm will be ours.
“Imperium. Theocracy. Kingdom. Those eras have long outstayed their welcome. There will only be rule of steel and blood. My rule.”
Daniel did not rise to the bait, but he knew the plan was lunacy. He was aware Lanan’s treasuries and knew what weapons and ships could be constructed for such an assault; and he trusted the Crimson Swords, and all those who manned the fleet.
Yet it would not be enough. The old kingdom was too vast, too lucrative, and untouched.
Though that did not bother him.
“And what of the cloaked men? I have seen them, Damian, do not deny it.”
“What of our allies, our trusted advisors?”
“You do not believe that they are here simply for our gain? How can you trust them?”
The oaken doors opened behind, and Daniel spun around to see who it was. Aerona Harkan—the Harpy—shouldered her way through. She was armoured in her Brood’s boiled leather, her long brown hair billowed behind, and her hand was on the hilt of her sword. Another of her ilk stormed in tow, alike to her mistress, but with shoulder length blond hair.
Daniel stood his ground.
The Harpy and her Brood are naught but meddlers with kind eyes to the weak and the depraved.
He drew his own blade, holding them at sword point.
“Sheathe your sword, Corsair,” Aerona mocked, placing a wary hand in front of her Brood. “Our affairs do not concern you, nor your Crimson Swords.”
“Your affairs are mine, Harpy,” Daniel responded in kind, knitting his brow. “Stand down.”
“Be kind to my consort and her whore,” Damian bellowed. “They may petition before me.”
Daniel slammed his steel back in its sheath, and scowled at the Harpy. He turned and stood to the right of the overlord; his fingers tap tapped the leather hilt. He knew his place, and what his sovereign intended. Aerona held a gaze only for the overlord, wroth and enraged.
Step out of turn, woman, and I will gladly cut you down, by his consent or no.
“Has madness truly taken you, Damian?” Aerona demanded.
The overlord laughed, nearly doubled over. Then he rose from his seat, left hand gripping the meat of his bejeweled scabbard. “Put that whore’s tongue behind your teeth, Aerona. You were to remain here. Your wishes do not supplant mine! Worse heh, your impudence took your flock’s blood, and my strength! Where did you inter them? Isilia? Dalia? Or did they burn in Serenity’s afflictions?”
“You know where they are buried!” Aerona screamed. “Luc left them for dead. The corpses were near rotted before I could find and bury them. Bring your mad dog to heel!”
“What do you truly know of my affairs? You have spent far too much time among the pious sheep that you no longer have eyes to see. Kneel and beg forgiveness.”
“We will not kneel to you,” the woman beside Aerona declared beneath a scarf of black silk.
Daniel grasped the hilt of his sword, standing sentry. He scowled and thought the Harpy’s resistance foolhardy. None dared such defiance before the overlord and lived.
Blood of your women runs in rivers in Lanan. Shall it come from the cliff’s edge?
“And who might you be?” Damian asked, grinning. “Some upstart from a brothel that my consort took for a fancy? You think yourself a blade master? You may hold a man’s sword in pleasure, but do not think you know it.”
“I am Naomi Croever,” she said and removed the silken scarf to reveal a round, worn face with fierce blue eyes. “I am not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” the overlord mocked.
Naomi dre
w her sword and lunged at the overlord, though Daniel leapt, withdrawing his own, meeting her thin blade mere feet from the throne. He could see the woman pushing, sweat beading upon her brow, legs quavering.
“You are a proud, arrogant fool,” he scoffed, licking his lips.
Naomi ducked and rolled, coming up a distance to his right, both hands upon her steel.
“Agile,” Daniel noted. “But that will not save you.”
Naomi wailed and charged, swinging her long blade in savage side arcs. He saw them with ease, parrying lazily, pivoting towards Naomi. He pushed her blade away, and she stumbled backwards.
“Is this what comes of your Brood, Aerona?” Damian asked from his seat. “It is a surprise that there was any left for Luc to slaughter. Dalian peasants would have done it for him.”
Naomi stirred, barrelling towards Daniel. He raised his sword in parry, and following through, he left her staggered. He strode forth in quick, heavy side arm swings, and Naomi weakly parried before her blade skidded from her hands. She desperately lunged for it, but he impaled her upon the floor, her hand inches away from the fallen steel.
“There is no place for the weak in Lanan,” Daniel declared, releasing his steel, crawling down her body, and clasping her head in his hands. “It is by blood and steel that we live and die. You are unworthy of these halls.”
The woman tried to talk, but only blood came from her mouth.
“You will disgrace us no more,” he said, crushing her head with his hands.
“Naomi—” Aerona trailed off at the edge of hearing.
“Corsair, heh,” the overlord declared. “Did you not hear my words? I do not need Davat’s protection, nor yours either. I will take my spoils.”
Daniel kicked aside the corpse and nodded, before returning to his place beside the throne. He always felt a pleasure in taking the life of a Brood, but the act was to affirm loyalty to the overlord.
Aerona is not far wrong. Damian walks the path of madness, but we must not misplay it.
Darkness Rising (Ancient Vestiges Book 1) Page 6