Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Hamford entered the room and shut the door behind him. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as the door locked. He laughed at himself. He knew that the creatures couldn't get out. Despite such assurances, he looked back through the door just in case something had followed him.

  He shook his head and pulled a little-used lever that caused a section of the floor to sink down, allowing a beast to enter the dungeon. Kenn had pulled that lever the night before when letting Talon loose into the dungeon.

  Hamford watched as the ramp lowered into the lower sections of the dungeons and was about to pull the lever to loose one of Ewzad’s beasts when he saw movement in the darkness beneath the ramp. Hamford felt an icy fear in the pit of his stomach. Something crawled up the ramp from the dungeon below. It froze for a moment, sniffing the air. Then its head swiveled towards him.

  Hamford’s heart leapt into his throat. It was his demon.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  The battle was heated and Fist was in the thick of it.

  He pounded away at the shield of the guard in front of him, but could not get in a fatal hit. With a grunt, he kicked the shield with one heavy foot and sent the human tumbling into the milling mass of people. Another opening appeared in the crowd and he swung the thick table leg, bashing a large dent in the helmet of another guard.

  The ogre felt a sharp pain and looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his arm near his shoulder. He flexed his arm to make sure he still had motion while his eyes scanned the room for the archer. Fist found him quickly. He was a tall soldier standing in front of the large iron door in the far corner of the chamber away from the fighting. He was drawing another arrow and Fist knew that he was the largest target.

  Quickly, he bent down and lifted the body of a dead guard to use as a shield. He sent a message through the bond, Justan! Archer in the corner!

  Justan hadn't yet found the opportunity to make a difference in the fight. The press of people was simply too tight. When Fist's message came, he saw the problem immediately and began skirting his way around the edge of the chamber towards the soldier with the bow.

  Justan hurried around the fighting as quickly as possible, but the soldier still got off two more shots before he arrived. Luckily, the arrows plunked into the body that Fist was using as a shield. Justan arrived with both swords in hand just as the soldier fired the second arrow. The soldier was quick. He dropped the bow and picked up a large shield just in time to meet Justan's first blow.

  The man was proficient with a shield. Justan sent attacks in from every side, but the man moved the shield subtly, sending it up or down or twisting it to send each attack to the side. The man did all this with one hand while reaching behind his back to pull a weapon free. Justan could tell that he had been well trained.

  The soldier was a tall, muscular man with four distinguishing scars that slanted across his face. He was better equipped than the rest of the guards, wearing a heavy breastplate and full chain mail greaves over his legs. Something about the man seemed familiar, but it wasn't until the soldier pulled a spiked mace from behind his back that Justan recognized who it was.

  “I know you. You’r-” Justan dove to the side, narrowly dodging a swing of the deadly mace. He got back to his feet and knocked the next blow away with his sword. “You’re Rudfen Groaz.”

  The man seemed startled by Justan's recognition, but didn't slow down in his assault, knocking Justan back with the shield before swinging his mace again. “I don't know you,” he said.

  The shield strike was unexpected and Justan was barely able to duck down in time to dodge the follow-up attack. Justan stepped back out of reach. He had to yell for Rudfen to hear him over the crowd.

  “I was in the arena the day you killed Jennsen Landrey.”

  Rudfen stopped mid-swing. A look of anguish twisted his features.

  “It was . . . an accident,” the large man said.

  Justan remembered the day, sitting in the crowd at the arena the year before he was first eligible to enter the Training School. The place had been abuzz about the new trainee, Jennsen Landrey. The small man had excelled in each test and was assured the chance to attend the academy.

  Rudfen Groaz had been a second year academy student and a candidate for the Command Guild. That day in the final test of the Training School, Rudfen had swung his mace too hard and Jennsen hadn't seen it coming. Rudfen's spiked mace had pierced the trainee's brain and the mages hadn't been able to save him. Justan had heard that Rudfen had never been the same.

  “I pitied you then,” Justan said.

  A snarl rippled across Rudfen's scarred features. “I don't need your pity!” The academy-trained warrior came at Justan again.

  “I have no pity left for you now!” Justan shouted, as he parried a swing of the mace. “Not when you fight for Ewzad Vriil! How could Rudfen Groaz stoop so low?”

  Rudfen stopped for a moment, pain wrenching his face. Finally a roar escaped his lips and he darted forward. He made to swing his mace again, but when Justan moved to parry, Rudfen brought up his shield in a stunning blow.

  The edge of the shield caught Justan under the chin and sent him reeling backwards. He stumbled over a dead prisoner and fell onto his back. Before he could move, Rudfen was on top of him. The larger man pressed Justan down with his shield and knelt upon it, pinning Justan to the floor with his weight.

  “You don't know me! You know nothing about me! Do you really think I had a choice?” Rudfen raised his mace for the killing blow. “Ewzad owns me now.”

  Justan was helpless. Fist! The ogre was too far away to help. In a panic, Justan pushed upward against the shield with all his might. To his surprise, he was able to summon the strength to upend the heavy man, sending Rudfen tumbling to the side. As Rudfen leapt to his feet, Justan came up on one knee, twisted his body and sent the tip of one sword under Rudfen's breastplate. It slid several inches into the man’s belly.

  “You made a choice somewhere along the way,” Justan said.

  “No.” Rudfen stepped back, ignoring the rush of blood and fluids that flowed from the wound. “From the day Jennsen died, I had no choice. It was over. I could not fight anymore.”

  “So you left the academy to do what? Join that . . . monster?” Justan had faced a similar choice after failing Training School the second time. If he had decided to take his chances elsewhere, could he have ended up in someone like Ewzad’s employ? No, he told himself. He would not have sunk that low.

  “Join the monster?” Rudfen chuckled. He reached up and unclasped the fastenings holding his breastplate. It fell to the ground and Justan saw that the bleeding had stopped already. Something was moving under the man’s shirt.

  “He took me in when I was weak. He gave me the strength to kill again.” Rudfen shook. His eyes widened and his pupils turned red before expanding and filling the iris. As he spoke, his voice slowly raised several octaves to reach an eerie high pitch. “Now I am the monster.”

  Rudfen’s legs swelled and his chainmail greaves burst apart, sending tiny metal rings flying into the crowd of battling men. His skin darkened, turning hard and chitonous and the legs split down the sides, spreading apart to become four separate appendages. At the same time, his arms grew in length, while his torso elongated and widened.

  The shirt split and Justan saw what had been moving underneath. From the wound to Rudfen’s belly had sprung forth two spike-tipped tentacles that waved through the air independently as if searching for a target.

  “You see me? Do you pity me now? Do you pity the power my master has placed in me?” screeched Rudfen from a mouth that now more resembled the maw of an insect than a human. He pointed to the tentacles waving from the wound on his abdomen. “See? Even the wound you gave me becomes a weapon!”

  Justan was too terrified by the spectacle to respond, but in truth his pity had deepened more with the revelation. Rudfen hadn’t just lost his dream of becoming an academy graduate. He had lost his humanity.

  T
he fighting in the chamber slowed down and nearly stopped as prisoners and guards alike stared at the transformation of the man. Fist saw the danger and no longer worrying about injuring the prisoners, shoved his way through the crowd trying to come to Justan’s aid.

  Tamboor beat him there.

  The academy legend flung himself at the monster that Rudfen had become. He tackled it from behind, but the beast was so strong that he only succeeded in knocking it forward a few steps. Rudfen reached back and grabbed at the man with a hand that had become a pincer. Tamboor leapt out of the way and swung his sword at the beast, but the blade barely made a furrow in the thick plates that now made up Rudfen’s skin.

  Rudfen turned to face this new foe and raised his other arm which still held the spiked mace. Justan, seeing the danger Tamboor was in, cried out in warning just as the beast swung its mace. Tamboor dodged the blow and hacked at its arm, but to little result.

  “Tamboor! Use this!” Justan shouted and threw Rudfen’s shield to him.

  Tamboor caught the shield and raised it just in time. The beast swung the mace with such force that it dented the shield and knocked Tamboor sprawling into the crowd. He didn’t get up right away.

  Justan darted at Rudfen’s flank, looking for a weakness. Sir Hilt had taught him that there was no such thing as a perfect armor. There had to be seams and separations in the armor in order to facilitate movement. These were the best places to strike when facing an armored opponent. This was especially important for Justan’s dual sword fighting style because it required lighter swords and made it difficult to swing the weapons hard enough to penetrate most types of armors.

  Justan made several jabs at the seams in Rudfen’s hardened skin before the beast could react. Unfortunately, the swords Justan had been able to acquire were designed more for slashing than for piercing and he was only able to penetrate a mere inch into the beast’s body,

  The strikes had caused it some pain though, because Rudfen screeched and whipped his pincer arm at him. Justan brought both swords up and was able to block the blow, but it knocked him off his feet. Rudfen reared back, his two front legs raising off of the ground and began to swing his mace in a strike that Justan knew he would not have been able to block. This is when Fist arrived.

  The ogre swung the table leg with such force, that when it hit Rudfen’s forearm, the chitinous hide shattered. The spiked mace fell to the ground and Rudfen screeched in pain. One of the tentacle-like appendages growing from his abdomen shot out, piercing into Fist’s upper thigh. He growled and swung again, this strike hitting Rudfen in the chest.

  A spider web-like pattern of cracks spread out from the spot where Fist’s attack had landed. One of the nails protruding from the table leg pierced through the armored hide and a stream of ichor poured out. Rudfen’s pincer arm grabbed the table leg and tried to wrench it from Fist’s grasp. The ogre stumbled. The leg that had been stuck by the stinger was going numb and he was having difficulty keeping the leverage he needed to pull the weapon back.

  Justan saw an opening through their struggle. He darted forward and cut the tentacle piercing Fist’s leg with his right sword. He spun holding his left sword ready and used the momentum to thrust the blade into the hole Fist had put in Rudfen’s chest. The blade slid through the hole with little resistance, piercing the beast’s heart.

  The creature that was once Rudfen Groaz slid off of Justan’s blade slowly, a look of surprise on its face. Fist ripped the table leg from its grasp and swung the weapon again, this time catching it in the small of the back. The large beast dropped to its knees and fell backward with a thud.

  Rudfen was dead. His body immediately began to deflate and return to its previous state. Some pieces of its body did not return to normal but lost any form and began to melt. As Justan looked into Rudfen’s lifeless eyes, he felt a pang in his chest.

  Justan had never killed a man before. This felt different than killing a regular monster. The goblins and orcs he had slain were just creatures to him, and evil ones at that, but Rudfen had been more than that. He had been a living, thinking person and Justan couldn’t make himself believe that the man was truly evil. In a sense, Rudfen had been just as much a prisoner as any of the men Justan had freed.

  Upon seeing Rudfen’s death, the last few guards had little fight left in them. Justan glanced around the chamber and saw the last of the soldiers fall to Tamboor’s bloody sword. He heard the wounded crying out in agony and looked down at the scores of bodies littering the floor.

  Some of the dead were Duke Vriil's men, but most of them were escapees. Justan grit his teeth in anger. All these men had one thing in common. In one way or another, they were all prisoners of Duke Ewzad Vriil. In Justan’s mind, each dead man was one more reason that the wizard needed to be destroyed.

  Justan pushed his way through milling prisoners and ran over to Fist. Are you alright? The ogre was blood streaked and weary. The arm with the arrow in it hung straight at his side and he watched as Fist pulled the stinger out of his leg. Justan sent his thoughts through the bond and felt out the injury. The head of the arrow was lodged in the muscle of Fist's arm and had nicked the bone. Luckily no artery was severed.

  It's just an arrow. Fist sent, and ripped it free from his arm. Justan winced as some of the blood hit his chest. Whatever poison had been in the stinger had dissipated upon Rudfen’s death. The ogre would be okay.

  A shout rang out as the iron chamber door was opened. Prisoners streamed out if the chamber, entering the stairwell. The fighting wasn't over yet.

  “No-no-no!” Ewzad Vriil shouted at the image wavering in the air above his throne. “Blast! You fools! You blasted fools!” His face was purple with anger and veins bulged from his forehead grotesquely. His soldiers were losing far too quickly. More prisoners were being freed every moment and Hamford had not yet been able to release any of his creatures.

  To make matters worse, Ewzad felt a shock pass through him. One of his power structures had collapsed. This meant that one of his chosen servants had just died. Ewzad sent out magical feelers. Hamford was still alive and so was Kenn. Ewzad shifted the image above his writhing thumb just in time to see Rudfen dissolving on the floor.

  “Impossible!” the duke shrieked. Not only was Rudfen his most dependable servant, he was also one of his best warriors and the finest of his human creations. The veins on his forehead bulged again and his legs wobbled. He steadied himself and took a deep breath.

  “No matter. No, it doesn't matter, no. There are many more men like Rudfen out there. Yes, he can be replaced.” Then he saw something that made him snarl anew.

  “What is it, Master?” asked the voice of the mother of the moonrats.

  Prisoners had escaped into the back stairwell that led to his throne room. With most of his forces depleted, they would soon be upon him. He would be forced to kill them all with his magic and such an attack could destroy his new castle. That was unacceptable! Well, a castle could be rebuilt, but . . . No, he had a better idea.

  “Yes, yes. A better idea.” Ewzad grinned. Why fight the battle himself when he had an entire army at his disposal?

  “Oh, my dear?”

  “Can I help, Master?” the voice said impatiently.

  “Oh yes. You can help me very much, my dear. Ready the troops, would you?”

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Elise Muldroomon, Princess of Dremaldria, fumed as she stormed down the long marble hall towards the library. How dare Ewzad send her away like that? She was a guest in his home. She was no servant to be summoned and dismissed at will. She had half a mind to leave the castle at once.

  Her heart jumped with pleasure at the thought. Could she do it? Could she really leave? Surely some of the commoners that were helping to build this place would take her home. They would have to if she asked, wouldn’t they? They were her people after all, even if they lived in Ewzad's dukedom.

  With a sigh, she brushed the thought aside. She knew she was fooling herself. Ewzad wasn't his
old self anymore. She thought of the odd look in his eyes and bizarre way of speaking and frowned. He wouldn't let her leave now. The Ewzad she used to know would, but not the Ewzad with the sunken cheeks and the maniacal laugh. Like it or not, she was a prisoner here.

  Her back straightened at that admission. She was only a prisoner if she let herself be. She wasn’t some average whimpering noblewoman, unable to defend herself. She could take advantage of her time in Duke Vriil's castle. She could find a way to make him let her leave. Ewzad had taught her everything he knew about political intrigue after all.

  Elise smiled. She would take control. She knew how to manipulate people. She had been manipulating Ewzad for years after all. A soft word, a brush of her lips on his cheek. That is all it took to get him to see things her way. Until recently, of course. Those rings of his had too great a hold on him.