The men dismounted, and their horses were led away by stable hands, with yet another warning from Cor regarding Kelli. He had grown rather fond of the palomino and had long decided he would violently eviscerate anyone responsible for mistreating or harming her. They entered the keep through double doors of iron banded oak, and it seemed to Cor that nearly every door of every large building he had ever seemed was made in the same manner. They stood in a small room, the walls of which were the same black stone with sconces holding torches. A guard wearing a suit of black chain mail conversed briefly in hushed tones with Wrelk before turning and passing through the next set of double doors.
“We wait now,” Wrelk said. “When we are summoned, I will walk ahead of you and my men behind. Kneel when we do.”
The wait was brief, though it didn’t seem that way to Cor. Anxiousness gnawed at him, and it took all of his willpower to not pace the room, climbing the walls like a trapped animal. He forced himself to keep in mind what he needed from this Loszian; the man’s servant had murdered his parents, and his men had lit fire to Sanctum, eventually causing its complete destruction, but the necromancer was his only link to information about Noth and his citadel. To risk that through rash temper, likely leading to his own death, would be exceptionally irrational, and the slight tingling sensation where Soulmourn hung at his hip did not help the situation.
The double doors to the antechamber opened from the other direction, and the black mailed guard, with another, stood at attention to either side. Wrelk began a measured pace into the room beyond, with Cor trailing several feet behind and the other two men from their short trek just behind him. Again Cor marveled at the similarities in architectural design; the antechamber opened into a large hall with an open windowed ceiling perhaps forty feet overhead. The hall was perhaps eighty feet long and about thirty feet wide with eight large columns, four on each side. The room was made of the same block stone, of which Cor assumed the entire castle would be built, and many torches illuminated it. Again, there was a raised platform at the far end of the hall, though not nearly as large as in the palace in Byrverus, with six black steps leading up high backed throne apparently carved of pure ebony.
Cor certainly had no difficulty recognizing the figure sitting on the throne; it was the Loszian that faced him at Sanctum, the same he once saw in Katan’Nosh. There was no question he was tall, and even sitting flush against the back of the ebony throne, his hands hung off the end of the armrests, and his knees jutted out from the throne by several inches. He had long fingers, similar to the Loszian Menak, and Cor still couldn’t help but compare the Loszian to a spider. His head and face were shaved completely smooth, which combined with his pale complexion, added to his abnormally gaunt appearance. The Loszian had a small but pointed chin, an angular face with a seemingly tall forehead and understated ears. He wore silk robes similar to those of Lord Menak, but of black and purple.
As they approached, he stood from his throne, standing at a full height easily six inches over Cor, and standing on the raised platform made him appear as a giant. Wrelk and his two men immediately dropped to both knees, their heads hanging from their shoulders so that their faces pointed to the ground. Cor did not kneel or bow in any way; he would go along with this Loszian so long as he attained the information he needed, but he would not show any degree of fealty to him.
“Lord Taraq’nok, I have found the man as Your Excellency has commanded,” Wrelk said without looking up, his voice raised to be heard.
“You serve me well Wrelk, but where are my other two servants?” The Loszian’s voice was smooth as ice and moderately pitched.
“My most humble apologies, Excellency. Dahken Cor eliminated two of them in a misunderstanding regarding custody of his sword. I did not anticipate he would be so protective of it.”
“No doubt he was,” the Loszian paused, looking Cor over with interest. “Why did you not bring the corpses back to me so they may continue to serve?”
“My lord, I did not think Lord Menak would allow us to pass should he known there was violence.”
“There is truth in that Wrelk. Fear not, you are absolved from blame.”
“Excellency,” Wrelk paused, as being the bearer of bad news to a Loszian lord was not advisable, “I relay a message from Lord Menak as well. He says that your payment in gold is not enough, and that you owe him a great boon for allowing the Dahken to pass.”
“Yes,” Taraq’nok said with a quiet sigh, “I expected as much. You see Dahken Cor, it is policy of the Loszian Emperor to kill Dahken on sight.”
“You haven’t killed me yet. Your servants, like poor marksmen, can’t seem to hit the target,” Cor said. He knew he could push the Loszian too far, but he couldn’t help making sure Taraq’nok knew this would not be one sided. This was the second such game Cor had played recently, and though he wasn’t totally sure of the rules, Cor obviously had an asset that made even a queen think twice.
“Killing you was never my intention, Dahken. Though, I must say I am perturbed at you; that is now six of my servants whose deaths you are responsible.”
“Three Loszian,” Cor corrected. “The first, Dahken Rael killed, when he saved me from being kidnapped. The second died inside Sanctum, which had nothing to do with me, and the weasel you left at Sanctum died from a very unfortunate fall off of a decaying stone wall. But, I don’t think the score is even. Your man killed my parents, and they were worth all of your men’s lives, if not yours as well.”
“I don’t believe you have come all this way in a vain attempt to slay me,” Taraq’nok responded, a slight smile touching the corner of his lips, though his voice had quieted slightly.
“You have spies in the palace in Aquis,” Cor said; it was a statement not a question, and the Loszian laughed at it.
“Of course I do. I suspected, as the highest in Garod’s order,” this Taraq’nok said with venom, “the queen would have some knowledge of you. The West has tried valiantly to eliminate all history of your race, but only where common knowledge is concerned.
“However, now I have to rectify another problem, for I am not the only Loszian with spies in Byrverus. By now, the emperor knows there is a powerful Dahken in Losz. Lord Menak knows Wrelk is my servant, and if forced, he will divulge that to the emperor. I will have to provide proof of your death, perhaps your severed head carried by your reanimated corpse.”
Cor instinctively drew Soulmourn and Ebonwing, bringing reactions from guards in various positions in the hall, including Wrelk and his two men. It surprised him that Taraq’nok would go to this much trouble only to kill him, especially as he had just said that was never his intent, but Cor would not stand idly by and allow it to happen. He would kill as many of the Loszian’s servants as he could. He could feel an urge to begin the slaying with Wrelk, but Cor held his ground, awaiting the next move.
“Put your weapons away Dahken,” he said. “I have other ways to make the emperor believe I have killed you, and I will show you this in due time. For now, let us end this nonsense. I have had an adequate set of quarters arranged for you here in the castle; please make yourself more comfortable, and then we shall meet for supper. I am sure it has been at least a week since you have had a decent meal.
“Dahken Cor, welcome to the Loszian Empire and your future.”
28.
Cor was lead by a small man, thin and short of stature with close cropped hair and goatee beard, out of the hall through a doorway. They climbed a flight of stairs and turned down another corridor before stopping at a set of average height double doors. The doors had no lock and opened easily; they were extremely light, likely made of pine with a reddish stain. To call the quarters adequate was a gross understatement. There were two rooms, the first of which was extremely spacious and contained the bed, a huge four poster frame of solid mahogany. The posts were octagonal and as large around as Cor’s thigh, connected at the top to form a canopy from which purple silks hung around all sides of the bed. A large desk of cherry,
with a matching plush armchair, stood to one side of a large window with an open interior shutter. The floor of the bedroom was covered in animal skins of various kinds.
Something else in the room drew Cor’s attention; a stark naked teenaged girl sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed. She had long dark hair, near black as is common to most Westerners, that hung loosely and unkempt about her shoulders, partially obscuring view of her breasts. She immediately stood upon Cor’s entry into the room, and he endeavored not to linger with his gaze. Though after looking at her for a moment, Cor was certain she couldn’t be much younger than he. Despite her obvious position of degradation, she was comely and had an extremely well shaped body.
“This room,” said the man, “and everything in it is at your convenience, sir. The next room contains a large bath, also at your convenience. I am Lord Taraq’nok’s House Steward, and I handle all of the castle’s domestic needs. Should anything here not please you, I will rectify it immediately.” The man looked pointedly at the young woman.
“His Excellency asks that you make yourself at home and relax. I will return at sunset to bring you to the dining room.” The steward turned and closed the doors behind him.
Cor had no intention of taking advantage of the girl; she was a slave, in a life of degradation, and he would not add to it. Even with his limited experience with sexuality, Cor knew that paying a whore was completely different; that was a business arrangement. Throughout history, the Dahken clearly had had their own sense of morality. He didn’t recall slaves ever being mentioned in any of the historical texts, but he refused to accept it as moral or acceptable. If there was one thing the Shining West understood, it was that slavery was a vile, disgusting practice to be stamped out. Unfortunately, surrounded by the Loszian Empire, there was little he could do about that just now, but he did not have to partake in it.
“What is your name?” he asked her in Loszian, carefully keeping his eyes off of her body. She seemed shocked by the question and looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her.
“Ania.”
“Ania, please put on some clothes.”
“Do I not please you?” she asked, seemingly disappointed. “If you prefer another girl, or a boy, the steward will oblige you.”
“No, not at all. It’s just that you are a slave. You do this because you must or you will be punished,” Cor stumbled over his words. Her naked flesh distracted him, but her reaction surprised him to the point of confusion. She seemed completely accepting of her role in life, and Cor suddenly found difficulty explaining to this admittedly attractive girl why he wouldn’t do as she expected.
“As a slave, you have no will, wants or desires, and I won’t take advantage of that,” he explained. “If you were here of your own will, that would be a different matter.”
“But my lord, I do desire you. I am a slave, and I am here as I was told. But this life is far better than working the fields and being forced to breed more slaves. This is what is expected of me, and if I don’t meet your desires I become useless to my master.” She slowly walked from her position, crossing the room in approach of him.
“If I am exceptionally good at providing you enjoyment, I have food, warm shelter and a bed to sleep in. Perhaps, I will even bear your child, making myself more than just a slave.”
She was close to him now, and her smell, quite different from steel and sweat, was easily distinguished. Cor struggled with her rationalization, fighting his urge to simply take her as she came closer. It amazed him that she had such acceptance of her place in this society, and he wasn’t even sure she would know what to do with freedom if it were given to her.
“Please clothe yourself, Ania.”
“I don’t have any clothes, my lord,” she answered, standing mere inches from him. He pulled his eyes from her and strode over to the bed, ripping down some of the silk hanging from the bed’s canopy. He turned back towards Ania and held the silk sheet before him at shoulder level.
“Please Ania, cover yourself in this. I’m tired, and now isn’t the time for this.”
“Yes my lord. Rest now, and perhaps later you will allow me to serve you,” she said while wrapping the silk cloth around her torso under her arms. The silk was shear, and only slightly hid her supple form; Cor could easily see her firm breasts and thin waist through the silk. The fabric only dropped about one inch below the meeting of her legs, and somehow, the entire effect was far more seductive than her fully naked form.
Cor turned back toward the bed and began unbuckling his armor, allowing the pieces to simply fall to the floor. Once down to his tunic and breeches, he sat on the edge of the mattress and unbuckled his swordbelt, leaning Soulmourn against one of the bed’s posts. The mattress was rich with plushness, and he felt his weight settle down into it. The linens were of burgundy satin, smooth and cool to the touch, and Cor lay back in the bed and dozed off.
* * *
Cor woke confused; he lay in an extremely comfortable bed with smooth satin bedding, and an attractive dark haired woman lay almost naked next to him. On top of that, a plain faced man with a beard hovered over him. The sunlight coming through the open window slanted at a steep angle, and Cor knew he’d been asleep for several hours. He had not meant to sleep so deeply, and it took a moment for the last day’s occurrences to return to him.
“Sir,” said the steward, “I apologize for waking you, but it is very nearly time to serve supper. Lord Taraq’nok has of course requested your presence for a fine meal. Please prepare yourself, and I will wait outside until you are ready.” The man turned and again closed the door behind him.
Cor slowly sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed his eyes with both hands. He panicked for a moment, realizing that he had slept heavily, but the few belongings he had brought into the castle were still right where he left them. He stood and stretched his back, realizing that he felt more rested after this brief nap than he had in months. Ania did not stir, and he watched her sleep briefly, noticing that she really was an attractive girl. Cor began to wonder what her soft body would feel like pressed up against his.
These thoughts he put out of his mind as he focused on what was to come; he knew that the girl, while she may be part of the accommodations, was also an attempt by Taraq’nok to distract and sway him. Cor needed to make sure the Loszian knew that his will was unbreakable, and he cannot be diverted from his task. He must show no deferment to the necromancer; as such, Cor decided it would be best to appear as if he would leave or kill at a moment’s notice. He prepared himself with both armor and sword, the sound awakening Ania. He favored her with a kind smile and exited the room. The steward waited outside, as promised, and Cor took note of the two mailed and armed guards that stood on either side of his doors.
“Thank you for sir for your alacrity,” said the steward. “Pardon these gentlemen; with no locks on the doors, Lord Taraq’nok uses them to make certain his guests are safe.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Follow me please sir,” said the steward, going back the way they had come a few hours ago. It was not lost on Cor that the two guards followed them.
“Sir, I hope you found the rooms accommodating to your needs?” the steward asked, and Cor was certain the man looked at him through the back of his head.
“I am satisfied, thank you,” Cor answered.
Somehow the man’s civilized tone and manner of speech was beginning to grate on Cor’s nerves, to the extent that Cor wanted to ram Soulmourn down the man’s throat. Perhaps it was the fact it was expected that Cor would have raped Ania until he was sated, as was apparently the custom in Losz. Once, Taraq’nok had told Cor they would together overthrow both the Loszian Empire and the Shining West. Cor was coming to the conclusion that, at the least, he would destroy the Loszians one by one, castle by castle and block by block if need be; they disgusted him already. His mind headed in this direction, he could feel Soulmourn and Ebon
wing suddenly warm at his side, and he suppressed the urge to hack the steward into pieces. He wondered if he would ever get used to that feeling, or if one day it would overwhelm him.
They progressed back down the stairs to the castle’s main level and crossed the hall in which Cor had met his host. They entered another corridor, this one directly across from the last, which ended at a tall door after only a few feet. The door was of a dark solid wood, and the steward opened it, motioning Cor inside. He then closed the door, leaving the guards outside in the corridor.
The following room was a large dining hall with a thirty foot long mahogany table in the dead center. There were multiple window portals to the outside, but they were all shuttered, no doubt to keep cool autumn air outside. A small fire blazed in a stone fireplace at one end of the room, adding unnecessary heat to the air. The table had eight comfortable looking armchairs on either side, as well as another on one end. The chair at the other end of the table was massive at three feet taller than the others and carved arms that were at least six inches wide.
“Sir, if you would please?” While Cor had been looking around the room, the steward had moved to the other side of the table and pulled out a chair immediately to the left of the large chair at the table’s end.
“Does he always entertain as many as this table will seat?” Cor asked while moving to take his seat. He removed Soulmourn from his belt, leaning the sword in its scabbard against the left side of his chair as he sat.
“No sir, I am afraid not,” he answered. “Lord Taraq’nok sometimes dines with his officers, but you have his full attention tonight. Sir, please wait here.”
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