Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

Ludvic shook the cold bars with such force that the dark stone above him began to grind, sending chalk down onto the furious Honour Guard. The cell that Baldoroff's men had thrown him into was empty, but for a few remnants of rotten straw scattered in the corner. The bleak stone of this lower dungeon gleamed in the faint firelight and the small room on the other side of the cell held nothing more than a small stool for the soldier standing watch.

  "Your King has lost his mind. Listen to me!" growled Ludvic at the watchman, the veins on his neck bulging dangerously. Never in his entire life had he been treated so disgracefully and he now fully understood that there was no hope for the mad ruler of Auldney.

  The watchman looked up briefly from his bowl of soup and shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

  Ludvic turned from the bars and spat on the floor in disgust. How was he going to get out of here? Errollan and Mandigal had to know how deep Baldoroff's treachery went. To throw one of the Maloreichar into holding and publicly threaten him was so far beyond reason that Ludvic felt like throttling Baldoroff with his own bare hands. He was about to drop to the floor to rest his aching legs when the door leading into this lower prison slammed open.

  The watchman jumped out of his seat in complete shock, in the process spilling his boiling hot soup all over himself. Ludvic watched as General Horrfull marched into the room with a look of pure rage on his bearded face. Behind him came Fesvic, holding a large axe menacingly with both hands.

  "Open that cell door at once!" ordered Baethus loudly.

  The watchman looked into his General's eyes and visibly trembled.

  "What are you waiting for?" yelled General Horrfull. "Open that blasted door before I force you through the bars headfirst!"

  "I am under King Baldoroff's orders to keep him here until he says otherwise," whimpered the watchman.

  Fesvic moved up to the soldier and grabbed him by the collar. "Open the blasted door!" he screamed.

  The soldier, finally beaten by the intimidating Hammerfell, rushed over to the cell and fumbled to unlock the door. Ludvic pushed passed him and slapped Baethus on the back.

  "I can never repay you for this," said Ludvic.

  "There is nothing to repay," replied Baethus. "Baldoroff has finally overstepped the boundaries of sanity and lunacy."

  Ludvic moved to the corridor that led to the outside and rushed to get out of the dungeon. They burst through the door into the cold air and Ludvic found two heavy mounts standing at the entrance with streams of mist leaving their nostrils after each deep breath. Both horses were laden to the brim with supplies and Ludvic noticed Crunch and Crack strapped to the side of the closest one.

  "You have done so much for me," said Ludvic gratefully. "By doing this you have both risked your lives."

  "Afhill is not foolish enough to harm me, Ludvic," replied Baethus. "I command the loyalty and respect of Auldney's troops and he knows that he will need my knights to protect this city."

  "He will find no reason to keep you alive," Ludvic said to Fesvic.

  His brother let the head of his axe rest on the floor and replied, "Aye, Brother. That is why I think it is about time for me to visit the South. I'm sure you could use some company on your journey home."

  Ludvic understood how difficult it would be for Fesvic to leave Auldney. Yet staying within Baldoroff's grasp was now too dangerous. He turned to Baethus and promised, "I will return."

  "To what end?" the General responded.

  "To put an end to Baldoroff's tyranny," answered Ludvic. "If we lose the northern dukedoms, who knows what will happen. We may find Summerstone and Hulmtown detaching themselves from Feldom in an effort to evade Zephra's fierce march."

  "Feldom is still united, Ludvic," Baethus assured him. "Have you so little faith in your own people?"

  "From what I have seen over the last few months, there is little reason to believe otherwise. Polthney has already agreed to Baldoroff's proposal and Larthstone is but a wisp away from signing over rulership to him."

  "They are both small cities who are afraid," reasoned Baethus. "They will be crushed if they are forced to fight against a horde of Dargonians. Can you blame Polthney, a city which has seen fighting since the dawn of time, from seeking a peaceful option?"

  "This is no peaceful choice. King Castaneda threatens to march his troops against the North in order to stop the nation of Durraas from becoming a reality. It would be the end of the Feldonian nation as we know it. If this happens there will be nothing left but a ruined and bloody field, strewn with the bodies of our friends and family. Feldom will become a whisper in the annals of the future Dargonian Empire."

  Baethus shook his head in frustration. "I can see no solution."

  "We all know what will need to happen, but we dare not speak it," commented Fesvic. "Baldoroff must be stripped of his powers."

  "He still has too many loyal followers," replied Baethus, his tone weary. "We must stop this conversation. The sun is but half an hour from setting and Baldoroff will send his men for you soon."

  "That is why we must be out of the city before they find the empty cell," agreed Fesvic.

  Ludvic climbed onto the high saddle and looked down at his oldest friend. "Stay alive. We will need men like you before the end."

  "As long as I draw breath there will be no end," shot back Baethus with a smirk. "Move along the coast, past Larthstone, and do not travel the main roads until you reach Darkwater Bluff. Baldoroff will have runners travelling the highways. Skiye be with you." He waited for Fesvic to saddle up and slapped Ludvic's horse on the rump, sending it sprinting into the distance. He turned towards the dungeon entrance and walked back inside to have a talk with a petrified watchman.

  By the sun's setting, Ludvic and his brother were two miles out of Auldney, their horses tearing the ground apart with their swift strides.

 

 

  Baldoroff threw another log onto the roaring fire in his private chamber and pulled his cloak even more tightly around his fat body. Stumbling over to his favourite chair, he coughed wretchedly into his hand and removed it to find his palm stained red. He shook at the sight and quickly wiped the blood on his clothes. He was more scared than he could ever remember being. With each passing day the sickness was growing stronger, consuming ever more of his chest and causing his body to weaken to such a state that he often found it difficult to stand.

  Without warning a thick cloud of black smoke entered the room. It swirled rapidly and increased in thickness. Finally it dissipated to reveal Zephra standing with an irate look on his dark face.

  "What is the meaning of this?" stammered Baldoroff.

  Zephra made no reply. He walked up to the sick King and moved his face up close to Baldoroff's.

  Baldoroff looked into Zephra's pitch black eyes and felt like recoiling in terror, but he defiantly kept his posture steady. "You cannot come into my chambers unannounced."

  Zephra's eyes scanned Baldoroff's face and the Dargonian shook his head. "You have little time left. This means that I will have to make use of you more quickly than I had intended."

  Zephra's heartless tone infuriated Baldoroff and, despite the torturous pain in his chest, he stood proud and tall. "I still have my wits about me."

  "That is good, as I will need to make use of them most of all," replied Zephra as he moved about the room, his black staff cracking loudly on the hard floor.

  "You told me that all I had to do was keep my troops out of the war," said Baldoroff.

  "I also told you that you would need to respond to Dieter's ultimatum," replied Zephra with a piercing gaze.

  "I have done this," assured Baldoroff. "I sent my reply to him."

  "Your messenger was killed," replied Zephra, with little in his tone to suggest that this bothered him. "Dieter disposed of him after he had relayed your words."

  "Then I did what was necessary," shrugged Baldoroff. "I responded to his threats and now my part of our deal is over."

  "No!" shot back Zephra. "I
have added something to our deal. You will travel to the City of Skiye and deliver your message personally."

  "He would kill me," protested Afhill.

  "He will not. His precious Honour Guard would not allow it."

  "Why should I do this?" asked Baldoroff.

  "Because you don't have a choice," replied Zephra. "You will do what I tell you or Auldney will be the next city that I conquer."

  Baldoroff frowned grimly.

  "By the time you have done this I will be ready to unleash my powers against Dieter's pitiful defences," commented Zephra.

  "You could have already taken Dunhelm and Rustown by now. Why are you keeping your troops locked up in Precedin?" Baldoroff dared to ask.

  Zephra considered the question then shrugged his shoulders. "I have been preoccupied."

  Baldoroff's eyes widened at the statement.

  "I assure you though," continued Zephra. "This is no longer the case. I am now more powerful than any man on this world. With the City of War in my hands, I needed only to wait for the final move in my great campaign. That has finally happened. And, thanks to a young Feldonian boy, the Karmanians are oblivious."

  "So are you going to move your troops out of Precedin?"

  "Very soon," replied Zephra, pausing by the fireplace. "By the way, are you aware that Ludvic Hammerfell has escaped your clutches?"

  "What!" cried Baldoroff. "When did this happen? I just sent my men to hang him."

  "Not long ago. He was aided by his brother and your fine General."

  "Baethus," roared Baldoroff angrily. "He will pay for this treachery."

  "Leave General Horrfull unharmed," ordered Zephra. "Murdering him will only create unrest. It is a delay that I am not willing to wait for. You will focus all of your attention on meeting with Dieter."

  "But they must pay," implored Afhill. "Especially Ludvic."

  "The Hammerfell brothers are no threat to us at this moment," Zephra said, waving away Baldoroff's argument. "They will suffer sooner or later. You will do what I ask and that is final."

  Baldoroff opened his mouth to retort but the wicked disciple had gone, leaving only a cloud of black smoke in his place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  FRIENDS AND FIENDS