The two guards gaped momentarily in shock, but Wrelk, a consummate professional leapt to the attack. His first blow was parried away easily by Cor, who suddenly felt more empowered than ever before in his life, and Cor drove his sword deep into Wrelk’s body near the heart. Impaled, Wrelk limply struck again with a blow that Cor took with his left forearm. Though weak, the blow still cut deeply through tissue and muscle to the bone, but Cor ignored the wound, allowing the pain to fuel him. He kicked Wrelk in the chest, twisting his sword while he yanked it out an angle, rending the man open. He fell to the ground, a huge well of blood forming underneath him.
The shock worn off, the two guards attacked Cor with short swords, and Cor allowed one blow to carom off his helm carelessly. He was vaguely aware of a muffled clang, but otherwise did not notice the attack. The other man attempted to thrust his blade through Cor’s middle, just underneath the hauberk. Cor parried the attack with the dull edge of his sword and came around backhanded, Soulmourn hacking through the man’s black chain mail as easily as Wrelk’s leather armor. He impaled the man twice through his chain mail while ignoring two more sword blows, one of which penetrated his side just under his own hauberk. Cor pivoted to his right, whipping Soulmourn around, and the second guard’s right arm, chain mail sleeve and sword in hand fell to the ground uselessly. Cor again plunged his sword deep into a foe, pushing him hard against the iron bars as the sword sank to its hilt and came out between the bars on the other side. He pulled Soulmourn from the dying guard’s body and turned to see Thyss still leaning against doorway with her arms crossed.
“I just wanted to see if the stories about the Dahken are true,” she said. “I figured you could handle yourself.”
Cor looked around the barred dungeon, finding mixed looks of dismay and horror, but also satisfaction from some of the Dahken prisoners. The steward stood quietly, a completely impassive look on his face, and the slaves stared at Cor incredulously. Cor looked down in quiet consideration; the floor was slick with the blood of the four men he had killed in a matter of seconds, and it suddenly dawned on him that his own wounds were no longer bleeding and in fact were completely healed. Cor motioned to the steward, who approached him quickly though with some reservation.
“What should I do with you?” Cor asked the man.
“My lord, I am the steward of the house. I serve the house in all manners required of me, regardless of its lord,” the man answered.
“Then I want this mess cleaned up immediately and be certain these people are cared for and given whatever they require.”
“Yes my lord, but if I may point something out? You may have little time before you have to deal with the rest of Lord Taraq’nok’s servants,” the steward said before going about his business. Cor waited for the man and the slaves to return upstairs and then walked up to stand mere inches from Thyss, heedless of blood and bodies. She uncrossed her arms and set her hands on her hips in a pose that smacked of defiance.
“And what about you?” he asked her.
“Oh, I am with you Dahken Cor, so long as you keep life interesting,” Thyss said, followed by the laugh that he had heard so many times.
Cor turned again to face the rabble that Taraq’nok had gone to such lengths to assemble. The Loszian had believed Cor would train them into a force that neither the Loszians nor Garod’s priests could harm with their magic, making them the avant-garde in his army to conquer both nations. As he gazed around the room, Cor realized that slaying Taraq’nok had been truly the first moment in his life that he had done something explicitly for himself. Everything else he had done had been a result of other forces that would control him, even if he didn’t completely understand their motivation to do so. Cor looked at the faces turned to him with some expectation, whether for good or ill, and decided that he would not be the decider of their paths. Cor removed his helm, allowing them to see his face for the first time. The young men, women and even children did not fail to notice the similarity between themselves and this slayer of the Loszian who had imprisoned them.
“My name is Dahken Cor. I have slain your captor and now offer you freedom to go where you will. I know nothing of you or where you come from, but you are free to return there if you wish. But before you go, look at me well, and you will see that we are the same. We are a race called the Dahken, born of Dahk the Blood God, and we are hated and feared by nearly all the peoples of the world because we represent something they cannot control. Each of you has great power in your veins, power that you must learn to awaken and tap. It will make you strong, if not indomitable. You are now free to go where you will, but stay with me and I will help you find that power. I will help you find the strength you need to make sure no one controls your destiny, and I ask nothing in return. Regardless of your choice, your life will not be easy. There are those who will hate you and even kill you on sight, but I can offer you the chance to fight them.
“Make no decisions now. We have some time before the Loszians realize that the man who imprisoned you is dead. Stay here for now to think over the decision, and if you decide to leave, I will make sure that the steward provisions you with anything you need. I will return in the morning.”
Cor left the room with Thyss, just ahead of him, and he could hear the people behind him beginning to talk to each other. It was interesting to him how it was extremely improbable that any of them had known each other before this place, and yet they seemed to speak freely to each other, united in their predicament. He could only hope he made his intentions clear to them. In the library he most literally ran into the steward and several slaves returning to retrieve the bodies and clean the blood and gore.
“Steward,” Cor said, catching the man by the arm, “I am going to dine now.”
“Yes my lord, I will have the kitchens cook a meal.”
“No, there is a cold meal on the table, and that is fine. When you are done, I want all of the guards and soldiers removed to outside the keep and the doors secured. I will inform them of Taraq’nok’s death when I am ready,” Cor said, pausing. “Also, we will have to do something about the slaves.”
“I do not understand lord,” the steward said with a quizzical look.
“Slavery is a disgusting evil, and I will not allow it,” Cor explained. “Not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon we will have to change their circumstances.”
Cor strode from the library, leaving the steward behind him with an astonished look, and Thyss kept pace beside him, the entire time with her slight, enigmatic smile. He returned to the dining hall and prepared to sit down to eat his cold meal when a sight caught his eye near the sideboard. He slowly walked over to the table, finding Ania’s body cold and motionless on the ground, lying in the remains of a broken decanter of red wine. Cor kneeled and reached out to caress her thinned hair, but hearing Thyss walk up beside him, thought better of it and instead closed the dead girl’s eyes.
“When you killed Taraq’nok, his power over her was broken,” Thyss explained. “I do not doubt there are many more in the castle elsewhere.”
“Well, she is at rest now,” Cor said, standing up. “I will have to ask the steward to prepare her whatever burial rites are proper.”
Cor returned to the dining table and ate ravenously at the meal of chicken and some sort of soup. The food was cold and greasy and the soup congealed; the meal was simply awful, and Cor wasn’t certain it would have been much better hot. But it was the most satisfying meal he had eaten in months, and he chewed his food staring with relish at the empty chair just to his right at the end of the table. Thyss sat across from him, leaning back in her chair with her legs crossed, her feet pushed against the table. As he ate, he felt as if something had not occurred to him or he was missing an important fact; it was as if he had forgotten to feed his horse.
“Do you really intend to train those people as Dahken?” Thyss asked; her face was hidden in the shadows, but Cor could hear her smile.
“If that’s what they decide.”
; “And what will you do when the Loszians come for you?”
He stopped chewing and focused his gaze in her direction. “I suppose I’ll offer them a choice. They can leave us alone, or I will kill them.”
“All by yourself?”
“I thought you said you would stay with me as long as I keep life interesting. Have you deserted me already?” he asked her by way of reply, causing her to laugh.
“Of course not,” Thyss said, taking her legs off the table and causing her chair to fall forward onto all four of its legs with a thud and scrape of wood on stone. There was mischievous glint in her eyes. “It will be interesting to see if Loszian necromancy can stand up to the power of my gods.”
Later that night, Cor and Thyss made love vigorously for hours on the satin sheets of his bed. Clearly, Thyss enjoyed the challenge of exerting her dominance over her lovers, and enjoyed it even more when her dominance was met with forceful resistance. It was not until after, when they lay entwined, their bodies and the bedding still moist, when Cor started with an epiphany. He looked at Thyss; her eyes were closed and her naked chest rose and fell with her breathing, but Cor was certain she was not yet asleep.
“You said something before. I want to ask you about it,” he said.
“What is that?” Thyss asked, opening one eye lazily.
“You said that the spell over Ania was broken when I killed Taraq’nok. That would have broken the spell over all of his raised servants?” Cor asked.
“As I understand such enchantments, yes. In fact all of his spells would cease to function,” she explained. She then shifted to her side, resting her head on one arm. “Why?”
“Taraq’nok,” Cor sighed, “He killed one of the Dahken and then raised him. He gave it to the emperor as a gift, to show his loyalty.”
Thyss rolled onto her back, laughing, which confused Cor, as he did not see the humor in the situation. She then climbed atop him and kissed him fiercely.
“Life is about to become very interesting,” she said, still laughing.
* * *
Sovereign Nadav, Emperor of Losz, was busy amusing himself when something completely untoward and unexpected happened. The mixed blood bastard Taraq’nok had given him a gift, a raised servant that had once been a Dahken. Nadav did not completely trust him, but with Lord Menak’s testimony could find no reason to hold Taraq’nok accountable without causing revolution amongst the other nobles. To vent his ire, he had taken to nightly sodomizing the corpse in a most violent fashion in the vain hopes that every time he thrust, Taraq’nok just might feel it. He was almost to the point of pleasure when the damn thing went limp and simply collapsed in a heap on the floor. Regardless, Nadav finished, though he was not terribly pleased with the situation; it aggravated him that Taraq’nok was a noble when obviously his power was so pathetic that he could not even keep a corpse animated for more than a week or two.
Sovereign Nadav stood drinking a glass of wine in consideration of whether or not to reanimate the thing himself when the obvious fact dawned on him, and he smiled wickedly. Taraq’nok was dead and surely there was little question whom was responsible. He dropped a tablet into his wine and swirled the liquid until the drop fully dissolved. For now, Nadav would rest in a meditative trance; tomorrow, he would assign a small force to ride to Taraq’nok’s castle bring the Dahken back to Ghal. He would thank this Dahken heartily for ridding Losz of a noble prone to trouble making, and then Nadav would have him beheaded right in the throne room.
Sovereign Nadav’s limbs grew sluggish and his eyelids heavy as the entrancing drug took effect in his blood. He lumbered slowly to his plush bed, his eyes unable to focus on any nearby object. He was just able to seat himself in a lotus position before his mind drifted into the cosmos.
Epilogue
“We do not have to fear immediate attack,” Thyss said. She reclined somewhat lazily in a high backed chair, her feet elevated and resting on a large, plush ottoman. “I believe the emperor cannot use the power of transportation to send anyone here.”
Cor had risen before the sun and immediately began making an inventory of everything he thought a group might need for a journey. He knew that he would not think of everything, but this didn’t concern him. Cor was sure that the steward would have advice on the matter. Thyss had stayed in bed for awhile and only grudgingly awoke and dressed after the sun had been above the horizon for a solid hour.
“Loszian sorcery is heavily based on enchantment, and their transportation spell requires a magical beacon,” she continued. “Just as their animated corpses cease to function, so should their beacons. It only stands to reason that Taraq’nok created the beacon in this castle. If it still functioned, the emperor would have already sent someone to investigate.”
Cor listened, though did not react or respond to her statements; the logic seemed sound as far as he understood magic, but it did not change the current predicament. Thyss stood from her chair, clearly aggravated. She was not used to not being the center of attention, and she suspected she could make her presence felt more clearly. She lightly approached his seated form from behind and leaned over him so that her breath would caress the back of his neck and ear.
“So, what now Dahken Cor?” she whispered.
“I must lead the Dahken from Losz, to a place of safety,” he answered, struggling to keep her presence from distracting him. Thyss hissed, a sound Cor was quickly learning to recognize as disgust from the elementalist, and she stormed back to her chair, throwing herself into it heavily.
“Where will you take them?”
“I see little choice except to take them west, back through the Spine into Aquis.” Cor leaned back and stared at the ceiling as he talked. “While the Loszians wouldn’t dare invade the Northern Kingdoms in chase of us, they are too far away. I doubt we could reach them in time, and I doubt that the children are prepared for such hardship. I could attempt to reach the southern coast; it isn’t as far, and I could hope to hire a Tigolean smuggler.”
Thyss laughed loudly, drawing an injured look from Cor. “The Loszians are not friendly merchants like Westerners. They inspect their ports to closely for you to escape them there.”
“Again,” Cor responded with a sigh, “I have little choice but to travel west.”
“And combat Lord Menak and his entire garrison?” Thyss asked. Her voice registered doubt or disbelief, but Cor could see something else burning in her eyes.
“I can’t be sure how many soldiers are there, but no doubt it is a force roughly matching that of Fort Haldon on the other side of the pass. I cannot defeat five hundred men in a direct confrontation. It’s a problem I have to work out between here and there.”
“Maybe you cannot,” Thyss agreed, stretching languidly, “but it will be a gloriously bloody battle I think. When do we leave?”
* * *
After a checking his list several times over, Cor sought out the steward, who was in the process of laying out a meal for he and Thyss. The steward looked over the provision list, agreeing that it was well made, though lacking in a few items. The steward agreed to handle the task and would have it ready by noon. In the meantime, the steward informed him that three of the Dahken, all boys in their teenaged years, had already struck out on their own in the dead of night. While this troubled Cor, he saw little he could do about it; at this point.
Just after the sun reached its zenith, twenty-six persons on horses set out from Taraq’nok’s castle. At the head of the group was a black armored warrior on a beautiful palomino, the horse’s coat in stark contrast to the man’s countenance. At his side rode a beautifully dangerous woman from a far away, eastern land. The middle of the group was made up of children, riding two to a horse, and the smallest of which had larger children to help them. The rear of the column was brought up by two young adults who looked over their shoulders at the peasants, slaves and occasional guard who took great note of their passing. They rode west, the sun overhead, towards the Spine.
To Be Contin
ued in Fire and Steel
Blood and Steel Page 28