by Tora Moon
“At first the changes came slowly. He started drinking, which led to a general decline in keep maintenance. But then he started responding slowly to monster attacks, not sending the fighters out quickly enough, until he finally stopped sending them altogether.”
“So his drinking is the problem?”
“No, it isn’t the real cause of the calamity that has hit our keep.” She placed her cup back on the table, and clasped her hands together on her lap. “Did you notice the grayness of his skin? Or the black mark on his neck?”
Histrun nodded. “I thought the drinking caused it.”
She pulled her lips into a tight line and shook her head. “One day, nearly six lunadars ago, he disappeared into a swamp after a monster battle. He claims he chased a brecha, but no one else saw one escape. When he finally returned three days later, he had that black splotch on his neck, although not as big as it is now. That’s when things changed from bad to worse. He set curfews and started to claim all the best the keep had for himself. When people complained, he formed the Black Guard, giving all the bullies in the keep the power to do whatever they wanted.
“He then ordered the fighting-packs to stop leaving the keep to fight the monsters. They, of course, refused, and were tossed into the storage level, which had been converted into a prison. After the first field worker was killed by a janack, the Browns and Greens rebelled, refusing to work the fields or tend the livestock until they had protection from the monsters. The Black Guard struck at night, seizing all their children and locking them into the crèche.”
“I heard he killed a child,” Histrun ground out, his hand forming a fist.
She nodded and held up three fingers.
“What!” His eyes widened. “He’s killed three children?”
“Yes. And one of my priestesses when she tried to stop him. We are effectively imprisoned here in the temple. We’re not allowed to leave, or we risk death ourselves. You saw the guard on our doors.”
Histrun nodded.
“They’re there to keep us in as much as to dissuade people from coming in. Only the old ones dare to come to services anymore,” she said, her voice rough with grief. “I’ve heard he’s also killed several other people. Anyone who tries to escape or leave the keep are instantly executed if they are caught.”
Histrun put his cup back on the table, unable to drink any more taevo, sick from the news. “How could he do such things? When we become Clan Alphas, we swear to protect and defend our people.”
“I think whatever happened to Mendehan in that swamp infected him with evil. He hasn’t allowed me close to him, perhaps knowing I would sense the evil in him and try to drive it out.”
“If I can get him in here, could you? Could you cleanse him?”
Wylara shrugged. “When it first happened, most likely I could have. But now …” She shrugged again and shook her head. “I hear the blackness covers most of his chest and extends to his mid-back. I fear it is too late for him, and that only death and the Crone’s cleansing fires can save him now.”
Histrun slumped back in his chair, unsurprised the priestess echoed his earlier thoughts. He would have to challenge Mendehan or find some way to kill him that didn’t mean he’d become the new Dehanlair Clan Alpha. But how? Again, the beginnings of a plan tingled in his mind but wouldn’t fully form.
He cocked his head and examined the priestess. “You seem to hear an awful lot of what goes on around here for someone locked inside these walls.”
A slow smile formed on her lips. “I have my ways. The kitchen staff have more freedoms than most. His many prisoners have to eat, after all, and they can’t go to the communal dining hall.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.
A piece of the plan clinked into place.
“Thank you, Priestess Wylara. I need to get back to my people and stop this madman.” He eased out of his chair and kneeled in front of the White Priestess, his hands over his heart and his head bowed.
“Blessings, my son.” She laid her hands on his head.
A moment later, he felt the warm presence of the Goddess wash over him and fill him with determination. His mind cleared.
“Free my people, Histrun.”
He swallowed. The priestess’s voice had changed and echoed with an otherworldliness. The Goddess had spoken to him!
“I will, Your Grace. I will.”
Trembling, he stood up, strode from the room, and back into the sanctuary. As he walked to where Tedehan waited by the door for him, ideas swirled through his mind. He’d fulfill his vow to the Goddess and free the Dehanlair people from Mendehan’s tyranny and evil.
Chapter 7
Histrun stopped on the temple steps, blinking in the noon sun. He nodded at the guard, who still stood by the doors, his face impassive except for a brief flick of his eyes to his left. Another guard had joined him. This one seemed younger and paced nervously.
When he saw Histrun and Tedehan, he let out a huff of annoyance. “Finally! What took you so long, old man?”
Histrun pulled himself up to his full height, and looked coldly down at the young man, unused to such disrespect. “I have no need to explain myself to you, whelp. My business with the Goddess is none of yours. What is it you want?”
“Mendehan wants you to share the midday meal with him,” the guard said. “I’m to escort you there.”
Histrun silently swore. He’d wanted to share his plan with Zehala and the others while they ate. And he needed to speak to the kitchen staff.
“I’ll take him,” the first guard said, stepping forward. “I need to stretch my legs and take a necessary break.”
“I don’t know, Deldehan,” the younger guard whined. “Mendehan sent me. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll take the blame. You just stay here and guard the temple.”
“It’s your skin.” The younger guard shrugged, sauntered to the doors, and slouched against them.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
“He just wants the old man,” the guard called out as they walked down the stairs.
“Got it,” Deldehan said, with a wave of his hand.
They tromped across the courtyard. As soon as they were alone, Deldehan whispered, “Are you sure you can help us? Mendehan’s turned mean and scarily strong. You’re an old man—no disrespect sir—and I don’t know if you could take him in a challenge fight.”
“I won’t be challenging him. Rodehan will.”
“But he isn’t here—”
“He will be in a few days,” Tedehan said. “That is, if you can help my people sneak out of here tonight.”
Deldehan’s face paled. “If I get caught, he’ll kill me.”
“Then we just can’t get caught.” Tedehan narrowed his eyes.
“Every exit is guarded, and at night a double guard is set.”
Histrun frowned. “Is there any way for you get guard duty at a side exit? Maybe with a friend who is also tired of the way things are around here?”
Deldehan lifted his shoulders slightly. “Possibly. I’ll probably be given extra guard duty for escorting you rather than Gordehan. I’ll be lucky if I don’t also get a few lashes.”
“He punishes his elite guard, too? And that severely?”
The young man nodded. “No one is exempt. Many in the Black Guard are like me, only in it to protect our families. They’re held captive with the others. It keeps us bound to him.”
Histrun shook his head.
“I’ll get word to you which exit,” Deldehan whispered as they approached the stairs leading to the keep-house. He strode ahead of Histrun and nodded to the guard who barred the door. “Mendehan is expecting him.”
The guard smirked. “He sent Gordehan to fetch the old man, not you. You sure have a knack of finding trouble. Haven’t you pulled enough night duty yet?”
“I like the dark,” Deldehan said with a shrug. “The night is quiet.”
“You’ll go too far someday, and wind up dead.”
“
Hopefully not today, my friend.” Deldehan pulled open the door. “We’re already late. I don’t want to get into more trouble.”
The guard let Histrun through but blocked Tedehan. “Not you.” He slammed the door behind Histrun.
Deldehan led the way up the stairs and down the long hall. He finally stopped at a closed door. He straightened his tunic and smoothed the front of his trousers, then knocked once on the door. They waited several milcrons until they heard a growled “Enter.” Deldehan opened the door and ushered Histrun inside.
Histrun stopped mid-step, gaping at the scene in front of him. Mendehan had a young girl—no older than ten—on his lap, a fistful of her hair in one hand, pulling her head back, exposing her neck, while the other one fondled her where no man should be touching her at her young age. Mendehan suckled her neck. The girl’s eyes were glazed over in terror.
Histrun’s face flushed hot, his forehead furrowed, and he dropped into a slight crouch, flexing his hands which were starting to shift. It took all of his control not to rip Mendehan’s throat out. He glanced at Deldehan and saw his hand fly up to over his mouth and his eyes widen with horror, then they narrowed and he emitted a low growl of anger. Histrun breathed deeply several times to regain control of himself. When his hands were back to normal, he stalked across the room and pulled the little girl out of Mendehan’s grasp.
He handed her to Deldehan. “Take her and get out,” he growled, “while I deal with this caitiff scum.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Deldehan nod and carry the girl from the room. He then turned his full attention to the creature in front of him. As soon as the door closed, he leaped the few feet that separated them and wrapped his hands around Mendehan’s throat, throwing him against the wall.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you, right now, right here?” He ground out.
“You can’t kill me. I’m the Clan Alpha.” Mendehan glared at him.
“You are a sick bastard, no better than a rogue. I would be within my rights after this.” He squeezed a bit harder, enjoying seeing Mendehan’s eyes widen in fright. Then he remembered why he couldn’t kill the man like this—he didn’t want to become the Clan Alpha of Dehanlair. “Argh!” he yelled, and slammed his fist into the wall.
Mendehan rubbed his neck and sneered. “You’re as weak as ever, Histrun.”
A stench wafted off Mendehan, making Histrun’s eyes water. He eyed the black splotch on Mendehan’s neck and chest. The smell seemed to come from it. He stepped back, the stink turning his stomach, and leaned against the door, unwilling to sit down in case he needed to move quickly.
“You really are sick. Why don’t you let the White Priestess heal you?”
“That fake? Never!” Mendehan crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Histrun. “Besides, I’m not sick. I’m finally in my right mind.”
“What happened to you, Mendehan? You used to respect your obligations and responsibilities. You honored our traditions. The Mendehan I knew would never think about abusing an innocent child like that or beating a young serving girl. He’d be the first one to condemn those type of actions.”
“I’ve had my eyes opened!” Mendehan flopped down onto his chair. “I’ve finally seen the light and refuse to be subservient to that bitch Goddess. Unlike you, I’m no longer afraid to hide who I truly am because of her silly rules and traditions. I make the rules now. I can finally do whatever I want, to whomever I want, whenever I want.”
“You sound like a spoiled child. Or worse, a rogue wolf.” Histrun stared at his hand, allowing it to shift, then looked into Mendehan’s eyes. “You do remember what we do to rogue wolves, don’t you? We put them down.”
“But you won’t. You can’t. You’d have to leave you precious Strunlair Province, and somehow, I don’t see you doing that. And you can’t simply kill me, claiming I’m a rogue wolf.”
Histrun raised his eyebrows. “After what I just witnessed? Sure I can, right now, and be fully within my rights. But you’re right. I won’t challenge you for the Clan Alpha position. I don’t want it.”
“Why? It isn’t good enough for you?”
Histrun let go of the magic, his hand returning to normal. He dearly wished to kill the man without waiting, but Histrun’s and Tedehan’s people were outnumbered. They needed to neutralize the Black Guard and free the fighting-packs. He wondered how they could accomplish that, when another piece to the plan fell into place.
Histrun shrugged, then smirked. “You’re getting fat and lazy, Mendehan. Your land is overrun with Malvers monsters. What? Are you too old to fight anymore? I’ve killed twenty—in your province. The latest one right on your own keep grounds. How many have you killed lately? One? None?” He shook his head, clicking his teeth in derision.
“I’m better than you!” Mendehan roared.
“Prove it.”
“All right, I will. Tomorrow we’ll go hunt down monsters, and I’ll kill more of them than you.”
“Tomorrow it is.” Histrun saluted and left the room, hiding his smile of satisfaction. They had one day to free the fighters, and then Mendehan would get the death he deserved for what he’d done to his people.
* * *
Histrun hurried from the keep-house to the communal dining room, hoping Zehala and the others would still be there. After what he’d just seen, Dehanlair Keep needed rescuing and put back into order. And the first thing they’d do is ensure no more little girls were subjected to Mendehan’s molestation. He paused on the threshold to the dining hall, surveying the room. A small group of workers sat with their heads bent over their food, talking in hushed tones. Histrun noticed a few eyes darting his way. His people and the fighters from Dehanrolos filled several tables, trying to ignore the loud, boisterous group who all wore the distinctive Black Guard uniforms.
He found Zehala’s wavy, dark-auburn hair in the crowd and strode over to her. He paused a moment to massage her neck. She glanced up, her eyes widening, then narrowing. He gave a slight shake of his head. There were too many Black Guards around for them to talk openly.
*You look like you’re ready to tear someone’s head off,* Zehala said in mind-speech, directing it only at him.
*I am. We can’t wait for Rodehan to get here. We have to move against Mendehan soon. I’ll tell you, and everyone, when we don’t have an audience.* He indicated the watching Black Guards, the slid into the empty seat next to her.
She reached under the table and squeezed his hand. “I heard you attended services. I wish I could have gone with you.”
“The priestesses gave a good ceremony.” He returned the gentle pressure. “Did you have a good practice?”
She nodded. “Yes, we did. We can, of course, use our magic without out helbraughts. The other Talents do it all the time. But we have fallen into the habit of relying too much on them to focus our magic. It was good practice to go back to the basics.”
“It had been a long time since I’d even thought about those exercises,” Naila admitted, putting down her fork. “Once I started fighting, I’ve rarely used my magic without my helbraught. I think it would be a good idea to start requiring all the Reds to continue with the basics in our normal training.”
“I agree,” Norvela said. “When I get back to Dehanrolos, I’m going to suggest we do the same thing. We don’t want to become so dependent on them that if something happened to them we couldn’t access our magic. We’re almost to that point now.” Her eyes flicked to the tables holding Black Guards, and she lowered her voice. “Look at what happened to the Reds here.”
Those who could hear her nodded in agreement.
A server brought a bowl of soup and a slab of brown bread and placed the fare in front of Histrun. He looked up at her to thank her, then remembered Priestess Wylara’s comment about the kitchen staff. He caught her eye and nodded slightly as he thanked her.
The soup was mostly broth with only small bits of vegetables and no meat. The bread was tough and chewy. After seeing the conditions of the
keep that morning, Histrun appreciated that the people even had this much to eat. As he ate the thin soup, he thought about dinner the night before and realized the only plates filled were those sitting at the table with Mendehan—and the Black Guard. Everyone else’s plates held very little. When he realized this, shame filled him. If his plans worked, the Dehanlair people would eat decently again.
Histrun kept an eye on the other diners while his people lingered over their meal. Soon the only ones left besides his people were a few Black Guards at a table across the room. They had positioned themselves so they could watch the goings-on. Histrun smiled to himself; it seemed he had a surveillance team. He picked up a pot to pour himself some more taevo and found it empty. Sliding out of his seat, he headed toward the kitchen. One of the guards stood up as if to accompany him. Histrun held up the pot and said, “It’s empty.” The guard nodded and sat back down.
Histrun sauntered into the kitchen. He hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps inside when a large woman with pine-green hair and brown eyes stopped him. She had an air of authority about her.
“Alpha, we would have brought you a new pot. You didn’t need to come in here.” She reached for it.
“Lady,” he said in a lowered voice as he handed it to her, “I need more than taevo.” At the woman’s raised eyebrows, he hurried to add, “I need your help. Priestess Wylara mentioned your staff has the freedom to go everywhere in the keep.”
“Aye, we do.”
“Are you ready to stop Mendehan’s madness?” He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t just made a mistake.
She tilted her head, considering him, then nodded. “Aye, we are. What are you suggesting, Alpha?”
“Histrun, please. And you are?”
“Helvia, the head cook.” She handed the pot to a staff member and led him to a desk in the corner. They sat down. “Tell me what you need us to do.”