by Rex Jameson
“Wake up!” Jeremy said to Ashton again.
“What is that?” Ashton whispered, his eyes still shut and facing the elk.
“Are you doing this?” Jeremy asked as more creatures began to emerge from the trees and shadows in the forest.
“What is that green light?” Ashton asked.
He stopped flailing and fighting against Jeremy.
More green lights appeared within the forest as an undead man emerged. He growled menacingly. A fox and a large rat scurried toward the three riders.
Ashton’s head swiveled to each of the undead creatures and men coming out of the woods.
“Is he doing this?” Jeremy asked, pulling the reins and the rope that bound Ashton’s hands to guide himself and his captive westward, away from the creatures.
“Ride!” Godfrey commanded as he charged at the elk and the undead man.
His sword slashed through the man’s head, and his war charger knocked the elk to the ground and stomped on its neck and body as it toppled underneath.
Jeremy pulled hard on the reins to both of his animals. The horses neighed and complained but they nearly rocketed out from under him and his captive.
“Whoa,” Jeremy said, getting his skittish horse under control. “Whoa, girl.”
“Ride through Foxbro!” Godfrey shouted as he swung at the undead man with the luminescent eyes. “Don’t stop until you get to the capital. I’ll catch up!”
Ashton almost fell off his horse, but he snapped out of his nightmare just in time.
“She released me!” he said triumphantly.
Then he appeared to panic almost as badly as the horses.
“What is that?” Ashton asked, pointing at the elk. “Where are we?”
“Just hold on to your horse,” Jeremy said. “There are unnatural creatures in these woods. Godfrey is fighting them off.”
“Maybe, I can help,” Ashton said. “Untie me!”
“I am not letting you loose amongst your own kind!” Jeremy said.
“These are not mine!” Ashton said. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been out for hours. I’ve been falling through the Abyss!”
Jeremy looked back as the horses trotted, checking that Ashton was secure.
“You’ve been sitting in that saddle the whole time,” he said. “Hold onto your horse, damn it, and get ready to ride! We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I tell you I was in darkness,” Ashton said, finally grabbing his horse’s mane. “I swam in it for what felt like an eternity… writhing in blackness… alone…”
“I said get the hell out of here!” Godfrey said, swinging his sword through another elk.
To their right, all along the forest beside them, tree limbs cracked and black figures fumbled and tumbled through the foliage. Jeremy saw hundreds of green lights in the woods. As they passed, the eyes shifted toward them, and the creatures limped and sprinted after them.
“You think you’ve been swimming in darkness, huh?” Jeremy asked loud enough for Ashton to hear as they thundered through brush and branches. “There’s a lot of that going around!”
He threw the reins and rope back and Ashton quickly pulled the ends into his own hands. They both dug their boots into their horses, and the race began in earnest. Ten miles went by quickly. Then fifteen. As they approached the wooden gate and palisade outside Foxbro, Jeremy hailed the guards with his famous name and demanded the guards let them through.
As they crossed the ramparts, Ashton stopped his horse, spun around, and yelled something completely different.
“Close the gates!” Ashton commanded. “Orcus and his minions are coming!”
7
High Lord Mallory
Julian Mallory stood next to his half-sister Jayna in the shadow of the throne of Surdel. Above him were the King and Queen, both dressed in black while mourning their slain son Magnus. Julian had been invited to the throne room for a reason, as had nearly a hundred well-dressed nobles and knights of the realm lining the walls around him. Julian was a guest of honor—a new southern lord. All that was left was the formality of bestowment.
Julian’s mind should have been on the ceremony and on what he had to say, but he found himself distracted by his sister, who somehow managed to look both dark and radiant at the same time. She wore black-and-white panther furs arranged in a long shawl. Her cleavage at the top of her white bustier drew his eyes, despite his best efforts to look up at the King and Queen. Her black dress went down to her ankles. A white dress train spread out five paces behind her. Three women had to carry it into the throne room of King Aethis.
Julian felt underdressed next to her. His long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail over a black floor-sweeping simarre. He wore a tight-fitting, black-and-white striped jerkin over a white frilled shirt. Long black boots and leather pants.
Julian broke from accidentally gazing at his sister to look at his longtime friend and man-at-arms Master Kraytos, who stood along the walls in a black-and-white tunic, cape and leggings. Kraytos was a Mallory-man through-and-through, but he appeared to be giving Julian an unfavorable look. Julian figured his servant had caught him looking and was silently judging him. He bowed his head and tried not to gawk again.
The rest of the room looked at the King, who conversed quietly with his wife. Shea Eldenwald wore a full black dress but far drabber than Jayna. The rumors amongst the court were that Shea had been hidden away for a week, crying over the crown prince.
The whole realm grieved for Magnus and so did Julian. The man had charged the fields to break a siege at Mallory Keep. If nothing else, Julian respected who Magnus was and what he had been willing to do. The prince would have made a fine king.
Purple drapes still lined the walls, just as Julian remembered from his visits since childhood. White tiger furs adorned the shoulders of each of Aethis’ sons, but black curtains were everywhere along the white stone. Shea’s dark veil hid her face. Aethis looked stern. If he’d been crying, he showed no obvious signs.
The highest-ranking lords of Surdel were all in attendance. Lord Bartholomew Crayton wore his family’s golden colors with green embroidery. Lord Jonathan Croft and his son Thomas were also in attendance with blue and orange designs. Even Lord Edward Vossen with his bald pate had come in a very stylish white suit with blue trim. His eldest son Jeremy was rumored to be on an errand, but his daughter Sandra and son Elliot were splendidly dressed in family colors behind their father.
“My wife and I want to thank each of you for your warm condolences on the death of our eldest son,” King Aethis said from atop his throne. “The nation’s mourning has barely started yet. My son is not even in the ground. The parades have not been held. However, the business of the Kingdom must go on.”
Shea let out a small whimper, and Aethis reached out to her. She did not take his hand. She turned away.
“My son was not the only great lord lost at Mallory Keep,” Aethis said, “when the Necromancer let loose a demon onto the field of battle.”
The ambassador from the Visanth Empire cleared his throat loudly from Julian’s left. He was finely dressed in gold-and-black robes and a green turban with many gold medallions jingling along his necklace. He had a pleasant face with a thick black mustache and trimmed beard beneath his bushy dark eyebrows and broad nose.
King Aethis continued, despite the interruption.
“We lost High Lord Janus Mallory on that same day,” Aethis said. “Our Kingdom needs the protection of the Mallories. Without their wise and valiant efforts, the orcish hordes would spread across our land. The rightful succession must take place for a new high lord, and so we are gathered here to briefly break royal mourning to bestow Julian—”
The Visanth ambassador again cleared his throat.
“You dare—?” Adviser Jurgen exclaimed in complete outrage from his position beside the King.
“I have been kept out of audience with the King for weeks,” the Visanth Ambassador Garshasp said. “First, the Red Army took
precedence. Then the undead and demons and a week of mourning. Now, the Visanth Empire demands to be heard.”
“We’re in the middle of a lordship ceremony,” Adviser Jurgen said calmly. “Do you object to this ceremony?”
“No,” Garshasp said, resuming the twirling of his beard. “We simply object to remaining in the dark. You speak of demons attacking your kingdom like it is but a normal occurrence for our world. An undead army walked across your land unimpeded, killing your subjects, and this is not worth discussing with your allies. What other types of evil does the Kingdom of Surdel hide from the nation of Visanth?”
“We hide no evil!” Aethis exclaimed firmly. “My son is dead. Thousands of my people are dead. We are in mourning.”
“And the Necromancer?” Garshasp asked.
“I have some of my best men looking for him,” Aethis said.
“So, evil roams still,” the ambassador accused, “and what of the ambassador from Uxmal? For many years, your Kingdom has claimed the dark elven stories of undead and demons taking their cities are exaggerated or even fabricated. Where is this ambassador now?”
“He has returned to Uxmal at my request,” Aethis said.
“You sent away the only person who might know how to stop demons, necromancers and undead while such creatures murder your citizens?” Garshasp asked, holding his chin as to express concern and exaggeratedly so. “Where is the undead army now? Should the Visanth Empire be worried about these creatures crossing the Small Sea?”
Aethis released an exasperated sigh.
“Very well,” he said. “I will address your questions in order.”
“I asked the elven ambassador Valedar to discover what limits this human necromancer might have,” Aethis said. “He left our realm to confer with his scholars and archives at Uxmal, and I anxiously await his return. My scouts tell me that the people of Perketh and Dona have returned to their homes and lives. I am not aware of any undead army movements to the south.”
“The people?” Garshasp asked. “You mean the undead?”
“It seems more complicated than we first believed,” Adviser Jurgen said sagely. “These may even be loyal subjects—”
“You have rebuffed the aid of the dark elves,” Garshasp said, “and you have sent their ambassador homeward. Your Highness, you do realize that the rest of the world must know the truth of what is happening here. Don’t you? If undead and demons are roaming your countryside—”
“We understand the gravity of the situation,” Aethis said.
Jayna nudged Julian in the ribs and motioned with her eyes toward the King and the Visanth Ambassador. He nodded, understanding that she believed he should stop being a spectator and show initiative.
“After the ceremony,” Julian said, “I will survey the land and take stock of our subjects in Dona and Perketh. If they are disloyal to the crown, I will put them to death, if it is the King’s command.”
“A bold action, Lord Mallory,” Adviser Jurgen said, “and one befitting a master of his realm!”
“Would you accept other aid?” Garshasp asked. “We have some small magical ability in our land, as I’m sure you’re aware. Surely, if you need help with the supernatural, the Visanth Empire could land casters—”
“Now, is not the time to discuss this,” Adviser Jurgen said. “The undead army has been crushed at Mallory Keep, and the creatures have scattered to the winds. We’re aware of no other attacks since the siege. The necromancer has fled, and the sole demon we know of smote by a paladin.”
King Aethis squirmed somewhat in his throne at the mention of paladins.
“If you have no objection,” Jurgen said to Garshasp, “may we table this conversation of supernatural things? The King is in mourning, the danger appears to have abated, and the Mallory House is in need of a new patriarch.”
“Of course,” Garshasp said. “The Visanth Empire has no objections to the elevation of Lord Mallory; only concerns about the state of Nirendia.”
Jurgen nodded to Aethis, who then continued his previous speech.
“As I was saying,” King Aethis said, “the rightful succession for the House of Mallory must take place. We have conferred with the elders of the Mallory House, and Lord Julian Mallory is the rightful heir to their seat of power in the South. A rightful heir to the full power of House Mallory is not theirs to give but mine. Lord Julian… kneel.”
Julian and Jayna both knelt, holding hands in the center of the stone aisle.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Julian said as strongly and confidently as he could.
“Do you swear fealty to me, your rightful king, and my family for as long as you shall live?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Julian said.
“Do you swear to protect all lands of Surdel as though they were your own?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Do you swear to protect all people of Surdel as though they were your own?”
Julian thought briefly about the screams in Perketh as his carriage dragged a young man to his death on the King’s Road. He gulped but quickly recovered.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Do you pledge to fulfill your obligations as High Lord? If required, will you sacrifice everything you have, love and hold dear for the sake of the realm?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Then let it be known that on this day,” Aethis said, “in the year 1500 of the Tranquility Era, that Julian of the Mallory Clan is hereby proclaimed High Lord Mallory. He shall inherit Mallory Keep and see to its repairs. He shall defend our southern reaches from any aggression, whether orc, human, elf or any other.”
“Here, here,” Jurgen said.
“Here, here,” the assembled lords and ladies said.
“My wife and children shall now retire,” Aethis said, looking directly at Garshasp. “All further business will be tabled for the day. We ask you to respect the mourning period for our son Magnus. If you have further business with the Crown, you may direct your requests to Adviser Jurgen.”
Aethis and his wife Shea left their thrones and proceeded to an adjoining room. His adviser stayed behind and waited to address the lords, ladies and ambassadors until the royal family had left and closed their door.
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” Jurgen said. “The King congratulates High Lord Julian. We wish his southern state nothing but prosperity and his house much happiness. Lords and ladies, please see yourself to refreshments in the banquet hall. The mourning period for Crown Prince Magnus will continue for the rest of the month. If you wish to discuss further business with his Majesty, please see me.”
Julian shook his head, as did the other lords, to conclude the business of the court. Jurgen motioned for everyone to adjourn and they did. Jayna and Julian walked slower than the rest.
“Congratulations, My Lord,” Jayna said, smiling and hugging his arm.
“You look beautiful,” Julian said, eyeing her approvingly.
“I’ve noticed your appreciation,” she said, smiling mischievously, “as has half the court.”
“I cannot help it,” he said. “You are—”
“Not going to befoul the throne room,” she said, pushing him away in jest. “This is your big day.”
He bit his lip as he trailed her. He felt powerful—a new High Lord. She continued to look at him, encouraging him to pursue her.
“Maybe later,” she said.
Julian smiled as he looked over her outfit one last time. He offered her his arm, and she took it graciously. She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a small red imprint with her lips. He walked into the banquet hall and conversed with High Lord Crayton and Croft well into the night. Even High Lord Vossen managed cordial conversation with both him and Jayna.
Jayna openly joined him in his bedroom that night, and neither of them rested. They made love until the servants knocked and asked them how they would take their breakfast. So, they took it in the nude on their bed and laughed as the servants averted their eyes.
The thought of demons, undead, and necromancers was as far away as Visanth. Everything in the world seemed possible.
There was no danger, only hope and wild abandon, and that overwhelming sense of euphoria didn’t stop for days.
8
Ashton’s First Visit to Kingarth
It was daylight when Ashton and Jeremy arrived at the gates of Kingarth. The high walls and spires of the inner buildings were made from the same white and cream-colored stones that Mallory Keep had been constructed of. However, whereas Mallory Keep was all functional defense, the capital of Surdel was made to look majestic.
Far behind the city, a dark shadow seemed to be cast from Kingarth onto the tallest mountain in the range. But as Ashton’s trotting horse came closer, he realized the shadow was another crumbling, ancient city.
“Ul Tyrion,” Jeremy said, watching him. “That was the dark elven capital, long ago. The elves are gone now. They live to the east in Uxmal.”
“I know,” Ashton said, remembering the conversation he had with Prince Jayden at The Sleeping Pony in Hell’s Edge. It was hard to believe that he had lounged with Jayden and Cedric in bath barrels not even a week ago, hundreds of miles away.
Since then, he had fallen through the Abyss for hours, been attacked by undead creatures in the forests outside of Xhonia and rode across most of the country. Now, he entered the capital of Surdel, likely to his death at the hands of an executioner.
The wind left his lungs as the gravity of his situation came to him. He was vaguely aware of the guards recognizing Lord Jeremy Vossen as they rode past, but the sounds of the world around him faded. A darkness began to creep in on him, like the last time she had visited him. He almost welcomed the Abyss. At least he wouldn’t see the rope or the axe coming.
“Hey!” Jeremy said, punching him in the shoulder. “You’re not sleeping. We’re not going through that again, not until we get you to the Tower of the King’s Guard.”
He heard Mekadesh’s laugh echo smaller and smaller as his periphery filled with light.