The Children of Never_A War Priests of Andrak Saga

by Christian Warren Freed

  Dalem blinked, his eyes moving vertically instead of horizontally. “Perhaps he is correct. Many events collide here. It is difficult to see the way ahead with clarity.”

  “All the more reason for caution,” Einos said. When did I lose my nerve? Was it my inability to protect my people? Or was it watching the ease with which Lord killed my guards, defeated Quinlan, and stole Lizette?

  The sclarem cleared his throat, an awkward gargling sound. Blue tinged mist escaped his mouth. The smell was akin to rotting meat. “Caution has value, but only when used with discretion. You have many enemies, circling like vultures. To defeat them, you must confront them with every weapon in your arsenal. Anything less is injustice to your people.”

  Quinlan and Donal entered just then. Their excitement obvious. Einos waited for the pair to take their places at the massive oval table. One of his ancestors insisted on the unconventional shape, claiming it helped men feel more equal and valuable in conference. No one in the time since saw the need to replace it.

  “Brother Quinlan. Donal. I assume you have something of importance for us?” Einos hoped.

  Quinlan clasped his hands together on the table, watching from the corner of his eye as Donal laid out the book containing Lord’s history, turning to the correct page. “Donal has made a revelation we believe is pertinent to our task.”

  Donal openly stared at Dalem, never having seen a sclarem before. Once, it would have been impossible to comprehend sitting among nobles in the presence of alien creatures. The young man from a forgotten village had come far during his time with the war priests. It was a strange sensation, for he’d grown up believing he had no place among the upper crust of society. That he was meant to be seen, not heard. Reality proved a far different creature.

  A wry grin twisting his face, Einos made introductions. “Novice Donal, this is Dalem. He has come to offer what aid he might. A more formidable team I cannot imagine. Now, what is it you have discovered?”

  Donal cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He took a calming breath and began. “Baron, my search, while largely unproductive, led me to this volume. It is a compendium of families known to have noble sons in the armed forces. Most of it is dull reading, but I found a passage regarding an interesting turn of events in Brogon Lord’s life.”

  “Continue,” Einos said, leaning forward. His heart beat a little faster, eager to learn whatever terrible secrets the once dead man possessed.

  Donal’s finger traced the lines, stopping where he needed to begin. “Brogon Lord, born the third son of Argal and Wuy Lord. Earned knighthood during his twenty-second year. Unable to procure service in Fent’s army, Brogon joined the mercenary company of Kahl Ilunder. He is attributed with seventy-three kills during the Mamlan Campaign. Died from wounds sustained in battle. It is rumored he was murdered by Ilunder. Brogon was interred in the Fent cemetery as afforded by his rank.”

  “The man was a villain,” Kastus uttered.

  “It sounds as if he received the end he deserved, though I fail to see how this helps us,” Einos added.

  “There is more,” Quinlan urged Donal to continue.

  The novice sipped from the mug of water set before him. “Brogon Lord was considered a familial outcast, often spending his days away from the family compound in Gunn. His childhood was spent along the banks of a small stream. It was here that Ilunder first came to him with the proposition of joining the mercenary ranks.”

  “Gunn?” Einos balked. He knew the village well, for it was the birthplace of his wife, Aneth. “How have we missed this?”

  “The Lord family is, according to official records, all dead. Brogon was the last,” Quinlan explained. He avoided telling them his conclusion that Brogon had played a part in their demise.

  “If the F’talle remains in this realm, he will roost in a place of familiarity,” Dalem offered.

  “He will have gone home,” Kastus finished.

  Stunned silence. Each tried, some failed, to process the information. There was no denying Brogon Lord was a villain, but how deep did his crimes go? None wanted the answers they knew they needed if the once dead man was going to be stopped.

  Einos was the first to speak. “Thank you for your efforts, Donal. This may well prove the clue we need. Captain Thep, are your people up for another ride?”

  “They are, Baron,” Thep affirmed. He knew he was summoned because of his company’s involvement in Palis.

  “Good. We ride for Gunn. Kastus, keep tightening the noose here. I want Waern found and incarcerated in the next few days.”

  Quinlan unlocked his hands and flexed his fingers. “What of Lizette? There must be a way to return her.”

  “This break is much needed, but it leaves us with as many unanswered questions as before,” Einos answered. “Quinlan, Dalem, I would ask you come with me. Kastus, bring me my traitors. With a little luck, we can end this nightmare and restore order to Fent.”

  They rose, shuffling off to prepare. Plans were made and the leaders of the once quiet duchy of Fent prepared for the fight of their lives.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Fent

  Thep gathered his forces. Those ten soldiers brought south with him from Palis. Far from being a full company, they would suffice. After all, he had Sava at his side. There was no better sergeant in Fent, or any of the surrounding duchies for that matter. Ten would have to do. There was no time or point for briefing. Thep said the name of the target village, putting them on level ground. What happened next remained to be seen.

  He cinched his travel bags down on Deana’s borrowed horse and found Kastus waiting. Thep walked over and offered his hand. Mud splashed halfway up his black boots. A light rain began overnight and continued until the landscape was coated.

  “Take care of yourself, Constable,” Thep said warmly. “It sounds like you are about to have more trouble on your hands than you’ll know what to do with.”

  Kastus saw it a different way. The danger was outside of the village, far from the once clogged streets. Still, there was merit in Thep’s warning. Desperate men did desperate deeds. Especially ones cornered in unfamiliar territory. Waern and his merchant benefactor threatened to become more than adversaries. They promised to be more trouble than the Constable wanted.

  “Sounds like the danger is where you are going. No one has seen the once dead man for some time,” Kastus replied. Dirt smudged his cheeks, souring his mood.

  “We have a war priest and a sclarem. How much trouble could Lord possibly give us?” Thep asked. His confidence was rising. Forgotten were the miseries endured in Palis. His only wish was that the rest of the company was behind him.

  Kastus clasped hands with him. “More than either of us are willing to want. Be safe out there, Thep. You are a good man and a better leader. Fent is fortunate to have you.”

  “We’ll keep the Baron safe. You have my word,” Thep understood the message.

  A sigh escaped him. Kastus’s greatest worry was for Einos. Knowing the Baron was in the field, against dangerous forces, left him on edge. Worse that he wouldn’t be there to protect him. The time of rulers leading their armies in the field were past. Einos should remain in his castle, directing all facets of the operation. Kastus had argued it long into the night but the Baron would not hear it. There was a time and place for true rulers to stand at the front.

  With a final nod, Kastus left. The time for speeches was ended. It was a day of action. Hundreds of soldiers were already deploying throughout the village as hundreds more formed a cordon to keep Waern and his confederates from escaping. Word had been sent to Palis, ordering the remainder of Thep’s company to arrest Mugh and Deana. Everything was coming to fruition.

  Thunder rumbled across the sky, prompting Kastus to cast a wary glance up. He didn’t foresee any problems, unless the rain worsened. A squad of soldiers in boiled leather armor marched up in two files. They halted a few paces away and the sergeant in charge stepped forward to introduce herself.

  “Constable
Kastus, I am Sergeant Sanice. My squad has been assigned as your personal detachment,” she snapped to attention.

  Kastus stared into her pale, ice colored eyes and shivered. The slightest hint of blue echoed within them. He wasn’t sure if that made her dangerous, or just a simple threat. The pair of short swords attached to her hip made up his mind. “Sergeant, a pleasure. I trust your people are ready?”

  Sanice stiffened, if that was possible, “Sir, these are among the best in the duchy. I’d put them up against every other squad you care to bring at me. Captain Thep says you are an honorable man. That is enough for me. And for them. We are ready for everything. Including a dead man.”

  “You have heard?” he asked, confirming that word had spread throughout the duchy.

  “Very few things escape notice from the army,” Sanice replied. Her voice was stern, fitting of her position.

  Kastus began to wonder if she could give Sava a run. “Good. The rumors are true. A once dead man has been kidnapping children, and now a grown woman. Your orders are to fight him only if he shows up. Our primary objective is the capture of Elder Waern from Palis. A rendition of his likeness is being distributed to the squads.”

  “Alive, or dead?” she asked.

  He was right. She was a dangerous woman and he was glad to have her on his side. “Alive, preferably. At least until we can uncover his network. Fent comes first, Sergeant. Always.”

  “I’m not hearing anything I disagree with. What are your orders?”

  Sanice found no taste for wasting time on small talk. A professional, she was armed and armored. It was time for action. A sliver of jealousy spurred her on. She and Sava were in constant competition, each claiming it made them better leaders. Now, with Sava heading out with the Baron to do who knew what, Fent was hers for the glory. She’d already won in her mind’s eye.

  “Once all squads are in place, we will begin with the merchant houses. I want private residences, warehouses, and offices raided simultaneously. There will be nowhere in this village to hide. With a little luck, we shall have this mission wrapped up before the end of the day.”

  Optimism aside, Kastus suspected this was going to prove harder than he expected. Matters of such importance seldom weren’t.

  She nodded. “You lead. We’ll follow.”

  Thunder rumbled again. Louder. Closer. It was going to be a long day.

  “I still don’t understand why you have to go,” Aneth protested. Her belly was swollen, visibly showing their coming child. “This is a matter for the army.”

  “This is a matter for the barony,” he replied. He had yet to offer validation for his decisions. How could he explain that there were times when a ruler needed to stand before his men, to lead by example?

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  A heavy sigh. Another matter he’d neglected to tell her. Lying wasn’t an option. Einos summoned his courage and told her. “Gunn. Donal uncovered information that Brogon Lord is originally from there.”

  “Gunn? But that’s …”

  “Where you are from,” he finished. “Do you remember the name Lord? Records say the bloodline has died out.”

  Aneth opened and closed her mouth just as fast. A hint of a secret flashed across her eyes before her face returned to calm. “Not that I recall. It has been so long since I was last there.”

  Einos strapped on his family’s ancestral sword, a plain weapon with nothing marking it special. He’d forgotten the story behind it. Some stories weren’t worth remembering. He took pride in his relationship to the common man, believing it made him more approachable. A selfish indulgence perhaps, but worthy in his eyes.

  “That seems to be the trouble. No one remembers the name. I find it odd that an entire bloodline can be so removed from modern times,” Einos admitted. His suspicion that there was a conspiracy around the Lord name deepened the longer he was immersed in this trial.

  Aneth slid from their bed to encircle her arms around his waist. She pressed her face against his shoulder and hugged tight. “Find him, love. Bring those children home and let us put this sad affair behind us. For the baby.”

  His head dipped. The baby. Everything he did was for the baby and he knew there would be no blanket of security for his coming child so long as Brogon Lord roamed the land. He slid around and kissed her. “I’ll be back before you know it. We are close, Aneth. I feel it. Whoever this Brogon Lord was, we shall soon root him out and put an end to his reign of terror.”

  Kissing her again on the forehead, he hurried for the door.

  “Einos,” she called and fell silent, the words dying on her tongue.

  “Yes, my dear?”

  She forced a smile. “Nothing. Be safe.”

  His smile brightened the room. And then he was gone. Aneth leaned back against the bed and sighed. How could she tell him? The secret was eating her from the inside, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. Not yet.

  “Form ranks! The Baron’s coming,” Sava barked. The whoosh and snap of his favorite stick slapping his trousers followed.

  Alfar climbed into the saddle and adjusted himself. “Do you suppose we’ll get extra pay for this?”

  Unwilling to think about it, Nils tried to ignore him. Some lessons were learned the hard way. Lately, it seemed every time he opened his mouth, Sava was there to rip into him. Nils had performed more unwanted tasks in the past few weeks than his entire time in the army. How Alfar seemed oblivious to the torment was beyond him.

  “Focus on the task at hand,” he scolded, almost under his breath. Sava was always lurking.

  Alfar screwed his eyes up, confused. “I thought I was.”

  “What are you ladies yapping about?”

  Nils winced. “Nothing, Sergeant.”

  Unconvinced, Sava spit a mouthful of nasty kappa juice. The red juice left a stain on the dark brown mud. “See that it remains so. We got one job to do and that’s protect Baron Einos. I don’t need either of you screwing this up. Understood?”

  “Sure thing, Sergeant,” Alfar replied, far too cheerily for anyone’s liking.

  Sava fixed him with his most severe glare. “Uh huh. Corporal Ollis!”

  “Sergeant?”

  “Keep an eye on these two. I’m beginning to not like this one,” he commanded.

  Ollis fought off her grin, having seen this routine many times before. “You got it, Sergeant Sava.”

  Einos and Brother Quinlan took their place at the head of the tiny column.

  Captain Thep looked back over his shoulder and barked, “Move out!”

  The road to Gunn was short, and with it the promise of ending all Fent’s miseries.

  THIRTY-SIX

  The Other Realm

  The clock had a face. Luminescent, pale and impossibly large. Lizette stared up at the monstrosity with a feeling of cold dread gnawing her stomach. Numbers were being crafted from an unknown metal and fixed to the face. Soon would come the hands and the foul plan of the Omegri would begin. Ironically, time was the one thing she was running out of. She needed to find Brogon Lord and turn him before it was too late.

  Torches glowed, developing winding snakes of light in an otherwise grey world. Children continued hammering and building. Bodies were constantly being added to the pit, despite everything she’d done to prevent it. Whoever the three shadow creatures were, they were little interested in the preservation of their workforce. Lizette knew better than to present the children as living beings. That meant little to a race dedicated to ending all life. So she crafted them into laborers. Each death meant the construction slowed, if but a little. Still they cared not. Work went on and the death toll rose.

  She found Brogon standing far from the tower. Stale wind blew his hair across his face. Lizette was revolted by the creature, though she supposed he was once handsome. Will I become the same once my time expires? Cold, decomposing flesh for the worms? The thought sickened her, but it was an inevitable fate everyone rushed toward.

 
He’d continued to deteriorate since bringing her to the Other Realm. There was little left marking him a man. No doubt, if he removed his armor he would collapse in a heap of bones. None of that diminished his intensity, however. The once dead man prowled the marshes surrounding the clock tower, except for those rare times he was returned to the world of the living to bring another child.

  That hardly happened anymore, suggesting to Lizette that it was almost finished. Soon time would stop and the Omegri would be loosed upon the world. An eternity of nightmares was surging against its bonds. She was the only barrier to ultimate defeat and she wasn’t sure she was up to the challenge. Lizette collected her wits and went to Brogon. The only way to succeed was by turning him to her side.

  “You should not be here,” he said without looking at her.

  She came to a stop at his side, folding her arms across her chest. “What’s the worst they can do to me? I am already here, in the land of the dead.”

  Brogon’s head turned. He was missing an eye now. The empty hole staring back at her. “You have no idea the suffering they will invoke. It is not safe with me.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Why do you do it?”

  He remained silent.

  Lizette took that as a signal. “These monsters treat you horribly. They expect you to kill and kidnap for their cruel needs. Have you ever once been praised for your actions?”

  “You are trying to appeal to my humanity. I have none. This is the land of the dead, as you say.”

  “Were you this way in life?” she pressed.

  Something had to work. There must be some trigger to reawaken what he’d lost. If not, all was lost and she had already failed.

  “I … do not remember,” came his answer.

  Brogon tried remembering his past. Who he was. Where he came from. Was he a man with a stern moral compass? Or did immorality come easier? He wished he knew, all while fearing the answer. The fear of knowing he might have been a bad man was paralyzing.