“Count Boarswic, you mean,” offered Kern. “You didn’t seem very fond of his kingdom when you spoke of it earlier.”
Garkim gave a long mental sigh and lightly brushed his temples with his fingertips. Deep in the back of his head he could feel the beginning of a dull pain. One of his headaches was coming. “I believe the king of Konigheim at this time was Brand the Slaver King, as the first Boarswic had died long before. This was a hundred years after the settling of this land by the fleet. The queen of Edenvale then was Rosamund Flame-Hair. And yes, I am not fond of Konigheim, nor is anyone fond of Konigheim who is sane and a lover of life and law. To this day they kidnap our border citizens and sell them off farther north into slavery, though we repeatedly make them regret such doings. But I digress.”
Garkim felt a surge of anxiety from the men before him. The visitors were now wondering if the kidnapped woman they sought had been sold into slavery in just this manner. It was possible, admitted Garkim to himself, but of no importance for now—except to them. Garkim made a note to check on this later.
“Rosamund and Brand fought, and Brand’s forces failed. They could not prevail against the army Rosamund’s bloodforge had brought forth. Then Brand found a bloodforge of his own. He conquered Rosamund’s forces and took her bloodforge, too. But he was himself murdered by his own family—a common thing in Konigheim. While Brand’s kingdom fell into civil war, the forces of Edenvale’s royal consort, the dead queen’s husband, discovered another bloodforge. Then the Northmen found the fourth, and finally our own King Helvar found the fifth. As was his right by decree of the gods and his ancestor Aetheric’s command of the fleet that brought the Ffolk to these shores, King Helvar declared himself emperor of the Five Kingdoms and set out forcibly bringing order to the land. He was unsuccessful, but his example continues to inspire us in the present day.”
“What do these other kingdoms think about having you bring order to them?” The casual question came from the visitor who had not yet spoken—the secret wizard, Trandon.
The question, though expected, was irksome. “They are not fond of the idea, of course,” said Garkim briskly, “but it is a shame, as the disorder and chaos has produced terrible grief in this land. The Free Cities of Parsanic, which know little of true responsibility and all too much of their selfish freedom, gained the services of one of the warring factions in Konigheim, which had its own bloodforge. At this point, each of the five Founding Lords’ states had a bloodforge, and I can cover in full the events of the following decade merely by saying that we were perpetually at war, all the Five Kingdoms, though it cost very few lives. The bloodforges conjured whole armies with a few moments’ work, once their secrets were understood. A few real, live persons died now and then in the raiding, to be sure, but for the most part we were spared the horrors usually visited on kingdoms engaged in such activities.”
A short silence followed as the five visitors digested this bit of history. Kern spoke next. “Everyone finally sickened of this sport in the end?”
Garkim considered the proper response. “Indeed. It became all too apparent in time that use of the bloodforges had a price, one that was not evident when they were found. They rendered changes in the blood and bone of those who used them, which… um…” He hesitated. He had not had to explain this in many years. His diplomatic tongue failed for a moment and his headache increased.
He decided to backtrack. “Those who used the bloodforges were changed in many ways that soon reduced their appetite for using these ancient devices. Equally troubling, it was also discovered that the bloodforges somehow attracted the attention of monsters, and the more often the bloodforges were used, the more monsters appeared and the more trouble these monsters brought. Our kingdoms have largely been at peace for the last seven decades, thanks in great part to the foresight of Mage-King Aetheric II, long may he live in memory, who discovered the connection between the coming of the beasts and usage of the bloodforges. He raised up true armies again, which had nearly vanished except for palace and personal guards, and he made Doegan a realm with real might, a sanctuary and haven against a tide of darkness.”
“So there are no more monsters around,” finished Kern.
Garkim hesitated. “I did not say that,” he responded at last, as the drover called an order to the elephant and the wagon creaked to a stop. “Ah! We are almost at the palace; the drawbridge is around the corner ahead, to the right. We must dismount here and cross over the bridge by foot. You can admire our little Eldrin River, which was re-channeled by King Erwain, son of Aetheric I, to serve as a moat. A lovely job he did, too.”
The drover had the wooden steps down in a second. As he climbed down, Garkim noted that the five visitors were eyeing each other and had made no move yet to get up. They were also sweating profusely from the heat. He smiled to himself. “You are in no danger from monsters here,” he added casually, handing the drover a few coins, drawing the man’s startled thanks. “It is unlikely you will be troubled at all during your stay, in fact. Doegan is as safe as your own homes.” He casually waved a hand toward the corner. “Please come with me.”
Exhaling heavily, Miltiades got up, moved to the steps, and climbed down to the ground. A moment later, every other man did the same. Garkim then turned and led the group to the corner and the drawbridge beyond.
Miltiades didn’t trust him, Garkim knew, but that was to be expected. The other four men assumed that they were indeed safe here, and they meant to set about their errand of mercy without further delay. They planned to find this kidnapped woman, Lady Eidola, at all costs. They even had a necklace that would detect her presence. That was certainly well and good, and Garkim wished them success, if only to speed their eventual departure. After the mage-king had finished whatever use he had for them, of course.
But they had another goal in mind, to find out what power was blocking all attempts to magically spy on this city from afar, then destroy it. That could be a source of real trouble. Every one of the five men suspected that a bloodforge was responsible for this magical shielding, and every one believed he might have to find and destroy that bloodforge as a result.
This would mean the death of every one of them. Perhaps this accounted for the mage-king’s interest in the group.
Garkim sighed and surreptitiously massaged his aching head. He wondered if he had told the visitors too much about the bloodforges. Or, perhaps, too little. Should he have told them that the price for use of the bloodforge extended to the entire population of the Five Kingdoms? That his ever-increasing headaches were only one symptom of a physical weakening that year by year spread wider and wider in Doegan, among Mar and Ffolk alike? It was, he reflected wryly, the supreme irony of the Utter East: as the populace grew weaker, the rulers relied more heavily on the bloodforges to keep the armies of the fiends at bay. But every use of the bloodforge weakened the population still more, continuing the vicious cycle.
No point in worrying about it for now. He led the men over the drawbridge and into the palace, drawing up plans with every step.
Chapter 4
No Rest for the Wary
Lord Garkim and his five charges were greeted at the palace entrance by a delegation of curious fellow councilors, all of whom had been present at the meeting two hours earlier when Garkim was summoned by the emperor. The councilors welcomed the overheated visitors and introduced themselves. The weariness of the visitors and their filthy, sweat-drenched condition were duly noted. Chambermaids were dispatched to fix up a large guest room for the warriors, and a mid-afternoon luncheon was promised. The visitors seemed rather distant but appropriately pleased at such treatment.
The warm, stuffy room to which the five men were taken was an octagonal chamber about forty feet across. A broad crystal dome replaced the ceiling, revealed a bright blue sky above; brilliant flowers and long green vines hung from brass pots suspended from the ceiling by thin chains. The furniture in the room was made from a rich, dark wood, the thatched seats and backs of
rough fibers dyed in colorful striped patterns. Long silk tapestries hung from the rough stone walls. The floor was covered by a thick carpet whose colorful pattern had faded from exposure to sunlight from above as well as the scuffing of shoes.
The five men looked about the room cautiously as they entered, but saw nothing amiss. As the maids left, a well-dressed Mar servant pointed out the side bedrooms that led off from six of the room’s eight walls. The entry door and a bookcase with assorted knick-knacks and small volumes took up the last two walls.
Miltiades nodded his thanks to the servant, who closed the door behind him as he left. The old warrior silently eyed the other members of his group. Rivers of sweat ran down his face.
Noph tried the handle to one of the doors, then pushed the door open and peered inside. “Huh,” he said. “Nice place. Maybe there’s a fan here somewhere.”
Miltiades carefully removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He tried the door to the left of the entrance to the room and looked inside. He sniffed after giving it a quick examination. “It is fine, as bedrooms go,” he said, turning about. “I suggest we make ourselves presentable while we discuss our plans. Whatever our mission, we are always representatives of Tyr. Let us never forget that.” He entered his chosen room and peered into a mirror on the wall.
“What he means,” said Jacob mischievously, “is that it will never do to face death and not look your best.”
Kern chuckled as he looked himself over. “So true,” he said. “I suppose I could use a bath, and the armor a little polish. But business first.” He reached up and tugged at something at his throat. A moment later he held up a quarter-inch-wide ball of crystal, a pendant on a thin gold chain. “Hmm. It would seem that Lady Eidola is not within a mile of us at the moment. Unless…” He carefully took off the pendant and held it out to Jacob, who took it in his hand. The crystal pendant remained as it was.
“She’s definitely not around,” Kern said, discouraged. “Sometimes magical things don’t work when they touch me, because my body is so anti-magical.” He took back the necklace, then sighed and rubbed his face with a thick hand. “If she’s not here, this is bad news. We’d better start thinking now about ways to find and rescue our lady.”
“Find the nearest bloodforge,” suggested Trandon in a low voice. He stood across the room by the bookcase, peering at the books on the shelves.
“Well,” said Jacob, doffing his own helmet and running a hand through his blond curls. “That would be mage-king Aetheric’s, now wouldn’t it? Shall we just ask to see it, or should we fight our way in?”
“Don’t be facetious,” said Kern darkly. “We could really use Aleena’s help about now. Noph, what was that you said earlier, about Aleena not wanting to come along?”
Noph blinked. “Oh. She said… she said…” He paused, then continued, “She said she had several reasons.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’m sure they must have been important.”
Miltiades’s voice rumbled out from his room, an angry edge to it. “Aleena may have had good reasons to stay behind, but I do not see why she could not have told me what they were. Why should she have confided in you and not me? I do not entirely trust the sorceress.”
Noph’s mouth fell open. “Not trust…! But she’s Aleena Paladinstar. She’s a friend of the Blackstaff!”
From his room Miltiades snorted. “To my thinking that makes her less trustworthy, not more. In any event, she is not here, and the way we came is now destroyed.”
The other men in the room looked away from Noph. Jacob nodded soberly. “This does present a problem when we’re finally ready to go home,” he said.
“Or ready to communicate with anyone outside this city,” said Miltiades. He came out of his room. In his right hand was a small jeweled mirror. “I speak with my wife Evaine in Phlan using this device, but I cannot do it now. Something is blocking the magical link between this mirror and Phlan, probably the same force that prevents Khelben from scrying on this city.”
“I’ll tell you what else bothers me,” said Jacob, wandering over to another side door as Miltiades went back into his room.
“That they knew we were coming,” said Trandon, not looking up from a book he had picked out.
“Exactly,” said Jacob, seizing the door’s handle and pushing it open. “That is exactly it. I’d love to—Great Tyr!”
Jacob was not fast enough to dodge the blow he saw coming. It knocked him back into the room and sent him crashing into a chair, which broke into pieces under his armored weight.
Kern reacted instantly, seizing his warhammer and tearing it free of his belt. He knocked aside another chair to get to Jacob, ready for battle. Trandon dropped his book and snatched his staff. Miltiades came out of his room again, shield and hammer in his hands but missing his helmet. Noph was too startled to do more than stand and watch.
From the doorway Jacob had tried to enter stepped a tall, bald, bare-chested man. He stooped to pass through the seven-foot doorframe. His skin was a maroon red, the color of dark clay, but he was far larger and more broadly built than any normal human. To Noph, staring in amazement, he seemed more than eight feet tall, with enormous muscles that properly belonged on a wild beast. A little giant, Noph thought.
Seeing that Jacob was merely stunned, Kern charged the huge red man. He swung his hammer in a roundhouse blow.
The red man caught the hammerhead in the palm of one enormous hand with a loud slap. He twisted and pulled at the same moment, throwing Kern off balance and dragging the hammer from his grasp. Kern flew past him with a cry and crashed into Trandon and the bookcase beside him, breaking the case and spilling old volumes and wooden objects everywhere.
Miltiades moved in swiftly, but did not close with the red giant. Jacob crawled back, trying to tug free his two-handed sword from his over-the-shoulder scabbard. The bald red giant studied Miltiades silently with eyes so dark they appeared black. Then he dropped Kern’s warhammer to the carpet and lunged at the warrior.
Miltiades threw his shield up and stepped to one side, out of the giant’s line of movement. The giant punched down at the same moment, his massive fist striking a glancing blow to the shield but knocking Miltiades back a step. The old warrior suddenly lashed out and slammed his hammer into the giant’s nearest leg, exactly at the kneecap.
The blow snapped the giant’s leg backward, breaking the knee joint with a loud crack that made Noph’s heart jump. The giant fell heavily, flattening a table and chair beneath him. Miltiades moved sideways but caught a foot in the carpeting and fell himself, legs tangled.
The giant rolled, never uttering a word, and got up on his hands and one good knee. His face held no expression. He reached for Jacob, who stood nearest, his two-handed sword now free. Jacob saw the great hand reaching for him and swung down at it. His sword slashed through a hanging flowerpot overhead, ruining his attack and splattering dirt, flowers, and leaves everywhere. His attack momentum gone, Jacob tried to recover and strike again. He was too slow.
The giant caught the fighter by one arm and threw him sideways like a rag doll. Jacob crashed into a side door, knocking it off its hinges as he fell into the room beyond. His sword flew through the air, bounced off the ceiling, and clattered to the floor in front of an astonished Noph.
Trandon suddenly came at the giant, a long wall hanging in his hands. The silver-haired man whipped the hanging against the giant’s head, flipping it over his face. Trandon pulled back and twisted the ends of the hanging, hoping to blind the giant for a few precious moments.
The red giant flailed his arms, missing Trandon by a hair, but the old man was forced to release the wall hanging. He stepped back and bumped solidly against the wall where the bookcase had stood.
Now free of the wall hanging, the giant turned his attention to Trandon. He got up on his good knee, facing his foe. He swiftly leaned forward, left hand out to catch one of Trandon’s limbs.
Suddenly the giant made an odd gasping sound. His hand slammed
into Trandon’s chest and knocked the wind from him, crushing the old man against the wall. The giant looked surprised, perhaps even puzzled. Then he fell forward, face down on the floor. Trandon fell next to him, clutching his chest and trying to breathe.
Jacob’s two-handed sword projected from the giant’s back. Only a three-foot length of the five-foot blade was visible.
Noph stepped back, unable to believe what he had done. He looked at his hands, then back at the motionless giant. The groans of his companions failed to distract him.
“That was for you, Harloon,” he said, then swallowed. He thought of his friend, a warrior who had died only hours ago back in Undermountain, his head crushed by an ettin’s club. Noph looked down at the stained sleeves of his shirt, still spattered with dried drops of Harloon’s blood.
“Tyr bless you, boy,” said Miltiades with feeling. The warrior had finally gotten to his feet, only to see that the fight was over. He looked around at the wreckage of the room. “Next time, however, act a bit sooner. You’ll make a poor warrior if you stand watching a fight with your mouth hanging open.” He sighed. “Let’s help our friends now, lad.”
Noph nodded dully and did as he was told.
The five had suffered nothing worse in their fight than a few cracked ribs and many extremely painful bruises. Miltiades and Kern, being paladins, were able to heal the more serious wounds by laying on hands and praying. Their prayers were heard and answered, and within a half hour of the fight’s start, they were on their feet and feeling very stiff. Everyone but Noph, who felt fine. Kern looked around and spotted Trandon. “What are you reading now?”
“An interesting book,” said Trandon. He flipped a page, then closed the volume and dropped it gently on the floor among the ruins of the bookcase. “It is a history of these lands. It says what our host said earlier, but adds a few things. There were five separate temples that joined the fleet that colonized this region. One temple turned rogue and was cast out; the other temples went on to become established here.”
Forgotten Realms - [Double Diamond Triangle Saga 04] - Errand of Mercy Page 4