Blood and Steel

by Martin Parece

  “The place is dead,” Taraq’nok said. “Nothing but weeds will grow within miles of the crater, and what few animals live in the area are predatory and unnatural. The meteor still resonates with power deep in its crater, and living things that come in contact with it are corrupted. Even we necromancers avoid it. What could you possibly need from that site?”

  “The Dahken citadel was destroyed when the meteor impacted, but the Dahken built catacombs under their strongholds in which they interred their dead. The tower may have fallen, but I know the catacombs are still intact,” Cor said. He hoped that this was explanation enough, but Taraq’nok only sat and stared at him waiting.

  “I must go into the catacombs and find Lord Dahken Noth,” Cor finished.

  “Perhaps I was wrong earlier,” Taraq’nok said, and Cor shot him a questioning look. “Perhaps you are not a rational man, you are a fool. There is nothing there but death. If the meteor’s energy does not sicken and kill you, you may just as easily fall victim to the area’s predators. Regardless, Noth cannot possibly still live.”

  “He does,” Cor nearly whispered. “I have spoken with him more than once. He is down there, and he is waiting for me.”

  At this, the Loszian became silent, at first staring at Cor with his eyelids half closed. After a few minutes he clasped his hands, looking at the ceiling apparently lost in thought. Cor did not move from his seat, and nor did he offer any more information, though he grew restless. For some reason, he did not want the Loszian to know that he actually sought artifacts rather than Noth himself. After several long minutes, Taraq’nok finally spoke again.

  “Well Dahken Cor, I have no reason to believe you to be a liar, though you have tried your amateur hand at subterfuge I think. I believe you when you say you have spoken to something claiming to be Lord Dahken Noth, but even you know that is entirely impossible.

  “I agree you must go and soon. The exact location is not far from here, perhaps a mere three days hard ride to the east. I will send some men with you for additional protection, but you must wear some type of helm and gauntlets to cover your features. If Noth lives, he would be a most powerful ally in our endeavor. He would likely see that we offer a great opportunity to return the Dahken to greatness, but if he does not live, then you will have to face whatever dwells in those catacombs.

  “We should discuss it in more detail over a meal this evening, but I see no reason why you should not leave tomorrow.”

  * * *

  “I am going with Dahken Cor,” Thyss said, “I see no need for me to stalk around the castle walls like a caged tiger.”

  “My dear Thyss,” said Taraq’nok, “I would rather not risk something untoward happening to you.”

  “I am not some asset that you control at your will Lord Taraq’nok,” replied Thyss. “I could wait years for your scheme to be ready, and I cannot possibly make you understand how bored I am here.”

  Taraq’nok fumed over his meal. He and Cor began to discuss plans for the Dahken to leave tomorrow in search of Noth, and the woman had listened with interest. Of course, he had attracted the woman to his side with talks of war, combat and power to be had, but he had not calculated how quickly her patience would wear thin. And of course, she was right; he couldn’t possibly expect to control her. To do so would mean Thyss would leave him and his plans entirely, or worse.

  “I do not think it is wise,” said Taraq’nok, making his displeasure clear, “but I would not stop you Thyss. Go with the Dahken, as he may very well need your help should he find what he is looking for in those catacombs.

  “I will send Wrelk to guide you as he knows the area well. Cor, I will have the steward provide you with appropriate armor of my house, including a helm to cover your rather obvious defining characteristics. It would not do at all for you to run into a Loszian noble or his servants without something to hide your true nature. Should that occur, I would allow Wrelk to do the talking. The obvious story should be that Thyss here is my guest from Dulkur, and the two of you are merely escorting her to a vessel that will take her back to her homeland.”

  “Sounds like an adventure,” Thyss said over her meal, throwing a slight smile at Cor that made his stomach turn over slightly, but not in an uncomfortable way.

  “I think,” Cor said nodding, “it sounds easy enough. Taraq’nok, there is something I’m curious about. How is it none of the other Loszians know I am here?”

  “I am certain they suspect, and it is something we will have to deal with,” replied the Loszian.

  “That’s not what I mean. You aren’t the only Loszian with a spy in Byrverus. What’s to stop them from spying on us here?” asked Cor.

  “Ah, I understand. Steward come here please and roll up your sleeve so that we may see your left shoulder,” called Taraq’nok. As he approached, the steward did as he was told, showing the mark Cor had come to recognize.

  “You are of course familiar with my mark. It is more than a simple tattoo. When I place it upon my servants, my living servants, it binds them to me, and they become completely unable to betray me. So, I do not have to worry about one of my own servants spying on me for another master.

  “You of course by now have noticed the black stone with which all Loszians build their abodes and most defensive fortifications. I know of every thing, living or dead, that sets foot in this castle at all times, and the two of you are the only persons here who do not bear my mark.”

  “So the same holds true of all other Loszian sorcerers then?” Cor asked.

  “Naturally.”

  “So it forces a race of liars to keep their intrigue somewhat in check,” Cor concluded. Taraq’nok’s eyes flashed angrily for just a moment before his calm, calculating exterior returned.

  “Precisely Dahken Cor.”

  The door leading to the dining room opened unexpectedly, and Wrelk strode in with nervous purpose. He crossed the room, almost at a run, and evaded the steward’s attempts at intercepting him. Wrelk came up alongside his master’s chair and knelt before him, his face low to the ground.

  “What is it Wrelk that you must interrupt my meal?”

  “My lord, a messenger has brought this from Ghal,” Wrelk said, handing the Loszian a scroll. Taraq’nok impassively broke the seal and read it, his face an unreadable mask as his eyes moved across the parchment.

  “Thank you Wrelk,” Taraq’nok said, excusing the man. “Your search for Lord Dahken Noth must wait I am afraid. I have been summoned before the emperor to answer for the crime of treason.”

  31.

  “Ghal is the capital of Losz, and I will have to go to there tomorrow and face the emperor. He accuses me of ignoring imperial edict and housing a Dahken, which is a capital offense. I shall go there tomorrow and present my defense and return immediately, and the two of you should be able to start your journey the next day,” Taraq’nok explained.

  “Where is Ghal?” Cor asked.

  “Five hundred miles east, northeast of here,” the Loszian answered, smiling.

  “And how would you travel there and return in one day?” Cor asked, though he was sure he knew. He looked across the table at Thyss, who listlessly ate her meal, clearly bored.

  “The same way the messenger arrived here so quickly from Ghal,” answered Taraq’nok. “If you recall, when we first met, you had apparently decided to kill me, and I disappeared right before your eyes. Perhaps two thousand years ago, a Loszian sorcerer discovered the ability to transport himself over any distance, so long as the destination was predetermined with a sort of magical beacon. All nobles have access to the beacon in the palace in Ghal, and most of us are smart enough to establish our own beacon in our own castles and towers. Unfortunately, that also allows Emperor Nadav to find us quickly.”

  “With such power, why haven’t you conquered the Shining West?” Cor asked. “Could you not transport an army instantaneously into Byrverus?”

  “Not exactly. It requires a massive amount of energy to send oneself and perhaps one or two
servants,” he answered. “I myself will be able to cast no other spells tomorrow should I wish to return. If all of the sorcerers in Losz combined their power, I doubt we could transport more than a thousand soldiers, and even then we would be powerless to lead them into combat. No, the power is not meant for war.

  “Cor,” the Loszian hunched over slightly in Cor’s direction, as if preparing to tell him a great secret, “you need to come with me to Ghal. I need you to see the man that you will help me slay.”

  “How’s that possible?”

  “I will bring two servants with me, men clad in my chain mail and helms. You will be one of the two. You must not speak and obey every order I make without hesitation or question or else we will be found out,” explained Taraq’nok.

  “Won’t the emperor know who I am as soon as I step foot in his palace?” Cor asked, tapping the black stone floor with his foot.

  “No, he will only know that you are not bound to him,” he explained. “The emperor is arrogant, and he would never debase himself to look at or speak to a noble’s servant.

  “Cor, I see the doubt in your face, but you must do this. You believe me evil, immoral and decadent, and perhaps I am, but I pale in comparison to the Emperor of Losz. Come with me to Ghal, and I promise your moral sensibilities will scream for you to kill the man.

  “Thyss, I am sorry, but I must ask you to stay in the castle tomorrow,” the Loszian said, bringing a disgusted hiss from Thyss as she pushed her plate away. “It is but one more day, and I am certain you can find something to amuse yourself for one day. Peruse and explore my library; perhaps you will find something of interest to your own powers.”

  “Loszian,” she said, and it was the first time Cor had ever heard disrespect in her voice, “your magic is based on knowledge and thought. Mine is a function of desire, emotion and strength. Our powers are as incompatible as we are, but I will wait one more day.”

  She stood from table and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her. The two men, united in their lack of comprehension of women, could only sit and stare after her as the echo boomed through the room. The Loszian sighed audibly and leaned back in his heavy chair.

  “As I said Dahken Cor, she is as unpredictable as her gods, and like an open flame, she can be as dangerous as she is beautiful.”

  * * *

  The next morning, the steward awakened Cor immediately at sunrise, providing him with a full suit of polished black chain mail, sabatons, gauntlets and a slightly oversized helm with visor and chain mail cowl. He also carried a black silk surcoat emblazoned with the Taraq’nok’s emblem, and the steward asked that Cor ready himself with all speed and meet the Loszian in his library. Cor had always thought chain mail was the easiest armor for a warrior don; it simply went on much like normal clothing. Cor, having only ever had mismatched bits of armor, never realized just how much the steel could weigh once he was fully encased in it.

  Ready, Cor made his way to the library, carrying the helm under one arm. Upon entering, he found Taraq’nok, his steward and one other soldier who was completely clad head to toe in the same armor. Taraq’nok was on his hands and knees in a most undignified position, drawing a large circle and intricate patterns within it on the floor. The steward immediately walked over to Cor and began straightening the armor and surcoat, saying that Cor had put it on in a most unkempt manner. The steward commanded Cor to put on the helm so that he could make certain everything was in its proper place, and satisfied, the steward announced that Cor was ready to leave. Taraq’nok, also finished with his task, stood up and looked Cor over.

  “Dahken Cor, you must leave your sword and the fetish here. If the sword’s obviously magical nature does not draw attention, I am certain that would,” he said, pointing to Ebonwing. “Besides, bringing weapons to such a gathering would be… frowned upon.”

  Cor was surprised; he hadn’t realized he had actually belted his weapons, and he supposed it was just his nature at this point. He removed Soulmourn and Ebonwing, but suddenly found himself quite reluctant to give them up. With great reassurances from the steward that they would be protected with utmost care, Cor finally released them.

  Taraq’nok bid Cor come stand in the circle behind him and slightly to the left, while the other soldier stood behind him to the right. The Loszian explained that transporting oneself was relatively easy, if consumptive of power, but to transport multiple bodies required them to stand inside such emblem such as the one he had inscribed on the floor. The larger the circle, the more persons could be sent of course, but the spell became an exponential draw on the sorcerer’s power. Taraq’nok reminded Cor to follow him wordlessly and to obey his commands without hesitation.

  The Loszian weaved his hands in the somatic movements of a spell, though he intoned nothing. His hands moved about for several seconds, and Cor could feel the hair all over his body stand on end, or at least try to as it was hampered by his armor. The Loszians fingertips began to glow with a soft purple light, followed by the entirety of his hands, and then he clapped them together sharply. As he had seen months ago, a brilliant flash of light filled Cor’s vision, and he felt disoriented, sure that his feet no longer touched solid ground.

  The sensation passed almost as quickly as it had come, and Cor found himself standing in position in a small room with an arched open doorway, in which a man stood considering them. He was of Loszian blood, though clearly mixed, and likely not as pure as Taraq’nok as he only stood about two inches taller than Cor. He had short kept black hair and wore a tunic and breeches of silver silk.

  “Lord Taraq’nok, we have awaited your arrival. Please follow me to await trial,” he said.

  They followed the Loszian down a narrow corridor into a small room lit by two torches, and Cor walked in measured step behind Taraq’nok, careful to keep the proper place. The visor on his helm obscured his vision, but he could see that whatever structure they were in was made of the same black rock as Taraq’nok’s castle. Taraq’nok had said that all Loszian lords used this material, and again Cor wondered as to its origin. The room had another door, which the short Loszian ducked through into a room beyond that was much larger. Cor paid little attention, as his gaze was on the near giant form of Lord Menak.

  “Ah Menak,” sighed Taraq’nok, “So you are my accuser in this trial.”

  “No, I accuse no one,” the taller Loszian replied. “The emperor is your accuser. I am merely here to testify as to what I saw.”

  “And what was that Lord Menak?”

  “One of your men paid me to allow him access to the mountain pass, saying that he was sent by you to retrieve a Westerner. As it turned out, this Westerner was in fact a Dahken, and I allowed your servant and the Dahken free passage into the empire.

  “Taraq’nok, I could care less about your schemes. I moved to guard the mountain pass as I wished to be away from my fellow Loszians and their constantly entangling plans. I testify only because I have no choice if I wish to avoid the emperor’s wrath,” explained Menak.

  “Fear not Lord Menak,” Taraq’nok answered, placing his right hand on Menak’s shoulder. “I understand your motives, and I am not angry with you. However, I owe you no boon as you suggested as the Dahken is dead.”

  “Very well then. Hopefully this will not take long.”

  The man in silver returned, opening the door and allowing the small group to leave into the larger room beyond, but to say it was larger would be a gross understatement. They entered a hall that, architecturally, was little different from the several he had seen already, but it was absolutely enormous, dwarfing even the palace in Byrverus. The floor, walls, ceiling and dozens of columns were all made from the same Loszian stone, and many of the columns carried a graven image of Loszians, presumably past emperors. Cor struggled to keep himself under control as he marveled at the shear size of the hall.

  They were led to the bottom of a dozen black steps that led, in typical fashion, to a large platform upon which sat an empty throne. The thron
e gleamed in the light, which had no source, and Cor was certain it was made of solid platinum. On each step, flanking a gold carpet that led up to the throne, sat two slaves, one male and one female. They were mere children, none of them out of adolescence, and all of them completely nude. The children were chained together by the neck in a long row down the steps, and the display made Cor’s blood boil. It took all of his willpower to maintain his calm.

  A door opened from behind the throne, and in walked another Loszian, this one as tall as Lord Menak. He was completely bald, adding to the completely inhuman look the Loszians had, and he was clad in silks of silver and black. He walked forward and stood in front of the throne, and the small group, Cor included, bowed in the customary manner. The emperor sat in his platinum throne, and the group rose to its feet.

  “Sovereign,” said the shorter silver clad Loszian, “Lord Taraq’nok has come to answer for his crimes. I also present Lord Menak who will testify against him.”

  “Taraq’nok,” the emperor’s voice boomed unnaturally through the hall, and Cor was certain that the Loszian chaffed at the lack of his title, “you are accused of ignoring imperial edict. You actively sought a Dahken from the Shining West and bought his access into Losz. Lord Menak, deliver your testimony.”

  Menak recounted the same story he had told Taraq’nok, though this time with more detail. He described the Dahken to the best of his knowledge, explaining that he was an apparently young man and clearly skilled in the ways of combat. Taraq’nok listened with his practiced impassiveness and did not interrupt Menak at any point. When Menak concluded, the emperor again spoke to Taraq’nok.

  “Lord Taraq’nok, is this true?”

  “Yes, Sovereign.”

  “Then you admit to a crime for which the penalty is death.”

  “No, Sovereign,” contradicted Taraq’nok.