“You will not say such things!” Cor screamed at the younger Dahken, and he brought his face within inches of Keth’s. “Geoff’s ghast attacked Rael because he felt he was protecting Marya! I will not condemn him for such a thing!”
Seeing Keth and Thyss’ reactions, Cor quieted himself, turned his back and forced himself to calm. After several deep breaths, he slumped into the heavy oak chair that matched his now damaged, perhaps useless desk. He sat quietly for several minutes, staring ahead at nothing in particular.
“I have told Geoff that he must learn to control himself, but I don’t know how to help him with that. We must learn together I think. In the meantime, we must build a tomb for Dahken Rael. I will discuss it with Thom. Dahken Keth, you must now teach the Dahken.”
Keth again sat stunned into silence, for one by the sudden change in Cor’s demeanor, but also for this development. “Lord Dahken, I believe that should be your place. I am so new to it.”
“No, it must be you Keth. The power of my blood came to me with no teachings from anyone, Dahken Rael only helped me to better recognize it. However, you had to work at it, and you are still growing in strength. The Dahken can learn with you. Besides, by now they know you better than me. I intimidate them, but you are their brother. I see no better choice.”
Keth stood and said, “Then I can only hope to honor both you and Dahken Rael.”
The two men took each other’s arms, and Dahken Keth left to contemplate what to do next.
* * *
The stonemasons built Dahken Rael’s tomb in just over a day; Cor had made it very clear that this project was of the utmost importance. Dahken Rael would be interred as he had before, as all Dahken had before, in a granite tomb roughly ten feet in every dimension. The door was made of solid oak, almost a foot thick and banded with iron multiple times. To Cor’s knowledge, the Dahken tombs had always been in catacombs beneath their castles or towers, but it would be different now. Construction on the keep had barely begun, and there were no catacombs of which to speak. Instead, a suitable site had been chosen just a half mile south of the fort, and it was situated on a tall hilly rise, well away from the mountain river that fed Fort Haldon its fresh water. Dahken Rael’s tomb would be the first placed, and as such was at the apex of the hill. Other tombs would eventually be built around it descending downward, hopefully later than sooner.
Rael had been placed in repose upon his bed, the room sealed and guarded that none would enter with less than Lord Dahken Cor’s presence. The battered remnants of his shield and the shattered pieces of his sword were laid out beside him with care. His body still wore his damaged armor, and that was how he would be entombed. His only other belonging, a journal that he began upon his rebirth, resurrection, lay at his feet, and all of these effects would be go with him.
The weather on the day of his funeral was in stark contrast to the day’s grim deeds. Sunny with only a few fluffy white clouds, a warm wind blew from the west over the hills and mountains, but the warmth of the sun and wind brought no cheer to the hearts of those involved.
Four bore Dahken Rael upon their shoulders, Lord Dahken Cor and Commander Thom under the dead man’s armored torso and arms, Dahken Keth and Geoff under Rael’s legs and lower back. The stiffness of death still held Rael somewhat, making the going easier. Behind them came Thyss who carried Rael’s useless shield and Marya who carried a silver tray. A burgundy satin sheet lay on top of the tray, weighed down against the playful wind by the pieces of Rael’s shattered longsword. The rest of the Dahken trailed behind Marya, as well as a good many of the soldiers who had come to know the fallen Rael.
They carried him from the Dahken barracks up and down the rolling hills to the south of Fort Haldon until they reached the tomb that would hold his body. To Cor, the climb up the hill approaching Rael’s final resting place seemed far more arduous than the previous half mile, and as he looked up the sloping hill at the gray, granite tomb, it struck him how little it matched the warm spring day and cloudless sky behind it. On the farm, a day like this reminded one of life, new and vigorous, but this felt like the harsh, somber reality of death.
The heavy door had been left open, and an amount of dust and loose dirt lay on the stone floor within a few feet of the doorway, blown into the tomb by the near constant breeze. A blank stone slab of granite, almost three feet tall, made up the eastern wall, and this is where they laid Dahken Rael. As Geoff and Dahken Keth filed out of the tomb, Cor separated Rael’s legs slightly, and here Thyss placed the pieces of his shield. Last, Marya laid the silver tray with his broken sword and its shards on the floor directly next to the slab.
Lord Dahken Cor shot a last hard look at his dead friend, mentor, and the huge gash in his solid, steel plated torso. More than once, Cor had torn Soulmourn through solid steel, but the force necessary to rip through ten inches of steel, flesh and bone still awed him. He doubted that Dahk would bring His son Rael back to Rumedia again. Cor silently ushered Thom and Marya from the tomb and pulled at the door behind him. Though immensely heavy, it closed easily and silently on well oiled hinges to boom loudly when it shut. Two Rumedian glyphs forged of steel were mounted on the door.
Cor locked the door with a heavy iron key; the lock was simple and would not keep out determined intruders. It needed only to keep out curious onlookers, the weather and wild animals. He turned to see the gathering, those that had followed. Some cried, mostly the children, while others stared at the ground quietly. Yet others watched Cor as if expecting something from him. In his life, Cor had rarely been at a loss for words, but this was one exception. With nothing to say, no words to offer, he simply and silently walked down the slope back toward Fort Haldon. Thyss and Thom fell in behind him, as did some others.
Dahken Keth chose to stay for a while in consideration of the tomb, as if the granite itself might provide him some insight. He thought of Geoff, but Keth did not see him amongst those who remained, nor had he gone back with Cor. Widening his search, Keth found him sitting halfway down the eastern side of the hill, staring toward the Spine. Keth had seen Geoff looking to the east for months, and for just a moment he felt envious, for he had never felt his blood call to him as Cor and Rael had talked about. He knew Geoff would be leaving soon, going to the gods knew what.
13.
Aidan, Lord of Byrverus, sat his ponderous bulk at a ponderous table in one of the temple’s large dining rooms, gorging himself on all manners of food available to one of his position. No one had the privilege, or misfortune, of supping at the same table as the fat lipped priest, and nor would they after seeing the grotesque manner in which he sated himself. Pork, chicken, beef, and duck - no kind of meat was ever absent at his table, and he ate better at each meal than most of his subjects did in a week.
Such was the advantage of power. As Lord of Byrverus, Aidan lived in the temple next to the palace, and he was at the top of the ecclesiastical food chain, only behind the queen. All of the priests and priestesses of the city deferred to him in the end, and his was the largest share of all the tithes that found their ways into the temples’ coffers. After all, the temple required great amounts of coin to maintain such an edifice. While he technically wielded no more power than the Lord of Martherus, or other of Aquis’ great cities, he controlled the capital, which in his mind was the key to one day controlling Aquis.
Aidan technically answered directly to Queen Erella, and she generally allowed him the freedom to run the city and its surrounding lands appropriately. In actuality, he answered to her accountants and advisors far more often than the queen Herself, especially Palius. In deference to Garod, Aidan would never wish any harm on the old man, but he was most definitely an aggravation. Of course, Palius’ death was now a forgone conclusion, and Aidan, always one to take pity on others, hoped he passed smoothly and without incident.
Aidan approached forty, and he worked very hard not think about the inconvenience of aging. In fact, he spent no small about of coin on various treatments to help hi
m ignore it such as brown dyes for his graying hair and creams from Tigol to smooth his skin, especially around his deep, brown eyes. In actuality, he’d risen to his great position with extraordinary quickness, partially thanks to the wealth he had inherited upon the death of his father, a somewhat wealthy merchant, but also due to his sharp intellect. Aidan knew how people worked, how they thought and how they felt. He assumed it was a gift he’d inherited from his father; his father used it in business dealings. Aidan used it to become Lord of Byrverus.
Queen Erella had already been on the throne for decades when Aidan was born, of course, so it was through no fault of his own that he had plateaued ten years ago. It was acceptable; the view from on high was spectacular, and it wouldn’t be humble in the eyes of Garod to complain about such things. Like all children of the Shining West, Aidan had been taught that one must always accept one’s position with contentment, but that didn’t mean he should not plan for the future. He was destined to be King of Aquis, and for ten years he had never denied a favor to a lesser priest. Aidan would one day need their support, for even Queen Erella’s grace would eventually end.
The fat priest sat debating silently on whether to eat more duck or begin his dessert course, finally deciding to start dessert. After all, to eat more duck and then start dessert would be gluttonous and certainly not pious. Aidan had just begun some sort of cheesy cream pie when the royal messenger arrived carrying a dispatch with the queen’s seal in purple wax. He barely acknowledged the man’s presence, motioning to an empty place to his right while he ate; the man left the rolled parchment, bowed and left. Aidan politely ignored it while eating, as one ignores his own stench, with the assumption that Queen Erella did not have immediate need of him.
Even after he finished, he refused to touch the scroll as he leaned back in a great oak chair, throne like in its size and the intricacy of its woodwork. Aidan had learned long ago that reading such things was bad for the digestion, and he instead folded his hands over the brown robes covering his great girth. He allowed his eyes to close and even snored lightly, as he always did, while the lowly acolytes cleared the table. He started awake when the lack of sound indicated that they were finished.
Still refusing to break the seal, Aidan took the parchment in a sweaty hand, crushing and staining the roll as he did so, and slowly orbited the table to head for his cell. All of the priests and acolytes residing in the main temple complex had identical cells, fifteen feet square, which they were allowed to modestly make their own. Of course, Aidan was Lord of Byrverus, and a big lord at that, so he’d had three walls removed to allow himself a bit more room to breathe. And as the Lord of Byrverus must not smell unclean, he had installed a comfortably sized marble bath, which he now had filled with steaming water and rose and lilac petals. The queen’s message sat forgotten as he relaxed and again dozed off.
The cooling bathwater roused Aidan, and he finally lifted his massive bulk from the water, careful so as not to lose his footing on the slick marble. The drying of his body required a fair amount of time and many soft towels, after which he powdered the nooks and folds of his body extensively. He dabbed a sickly sweet smelling perfume from a beveled glass vial onto his skin and pulled a loose fitting brown robe over his head. Sighing heavily, he finally picked up the parchment roll and broke the queen’s seal.
The message was but two simple lines requiring him to be present in the royal hall exactly two hours after sunrise. Aidan looked at it dumbly and then read it again, certain that there was much more to be read and that he’d merely missed it all. However, the scrolling script did not change, and Aidan dropped it on a table in quiet disgust. Queen Erella had a task for him or perhaps a favor to ask, and she chose not to ask it privately. That meant one simple thing - he would not like it, and she made sure that he could not refuse, for he could not refuse his Queen, his High Priestess in public. He knew he was in a trap from which there was no escape.
Aidan slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares that forced him awake often and yet returned immediately when he closed his eyes. He dreamed of Erella, giant and standing dozens of feet above him while she beat him repeatedly with the Scepter of Garod, and the old man Palius laughed grandly all the while. He dreamed of Byrverus, beautiful and magnificent, its limestone and marble spires crumbling before a great black storm, and Aidan was powerless to stop it. He awoke freezing and soaked with sweat as the sun’s first light shone into his grand cell, as one final nightmare of a burning lake of blood faded out of his consciousness.
* * *
“My queen, how may I serve you?” Aidan asked, kneeling in reverence.
He was tired and haggard, the fat pouches below his eyes seemed to hang dangerously, but he had come as commanded. The hall was not as crowded as usual, and even Palius was absent. Apparently Queen Erella needed only a handful of witnesses to be sure he did not refuse her. She wore her ornate white robes with both secular and religious badges of office embroidered in gold thread. Her most official crown, heavy gold and reserved for the most important state affairs, sat upon her head, and the scepter rested across her straight legs.
“Good Aidan, you show your loyalty to Garod and Aquis as always,” she said, though the praise even more committed him to whatever task she asked of him. “Garod has great need of you, or more specifically, your unique skills in protecting and spreading the faith.”
“I live only to serve, Majesty,” he replied, and he saw the very slightest hint of a smile upturn her lips.
“I need you to journey to Fort Haldon and oversee the foundation of a proper temple. Garod must be present there and faith in Him protected amongst the masses. I see no better choice than you.”
“My queen,” Aidan said slowly as he chose his words carefully, “what of Byrverus? Surely there are other priests who are just as pious with less responsibility.”
Queen Erella’s eyes turned hard as granite, and Aidan knew the discussion was over. “None so much as you, good Aidan. You need not worry for Byrverus, for I shall care for the great city. I care for all of Aquis already, what is the addition of Byrverus to the weight already on my shoulders. You must leave immediately. Go forth and make certain Lord Dahken Cor shows Garod the proper reverence.”
Aidan couldn’t believe what she’d done to him, what she asked of him! He, Lord of Byrverus and the next ruler of Aquis, was being sent to the edge of the realm and the edge of the world as far as he was concerned, to brave the cold of the mountains, Loszian invasion and, worst of all, a gray skinned demon and his heathen witch seductress. He mumbled his gratitude and returned to the temple to prepare for his journey. It was in a sudden fit of panic that Aidan realized he’d never once left Byrverus and had no idea how he would survive outside of civilization.
14.
Cor sent for the architect nearly an hour ago, and he paced around the table with great impatience. Ever since he nearly destroyed the desk in his quarters, he’d taken to overseeing most matters from the long heavy table that would soon be surrounded by the Dahken’s hall. It was covered or even moved indoors during poor weather. Though that was not an issue today as the weather was beautiful, and Cor had been looking over the new plans for Fort Haldon. Outside the keep and in the main cluster of buildings that would support the fort was a large building labeled as “temple”.
The plans had been revised slightly several times over as more people came or intended to come to Fort Haldon to make their homes. About a hundred new soldiers had arrived from Byrverus, but more importantly, hundreds of commoners had come from various parts of Aquis, brought by opportunity. Land was offered readily in great amounts for little coin to entice them to come, despite the proximity to Losz that always seemed like a looming black cloud to the Westerners. Even still, they came with their families to establish new homes. As the population grew, as homes and farmsteads were established, Fort Haldon itself would need to grow more into a small city than just a defensive fort.
None of the previous plans had included a temp
le, at least nothing labeled as such, and Cor wanted an explanation. After all, this was his land as given by the queen Herself, and all changes to the plans had been discussed with him directly, except this one. Cor wanted to know who had added it to the layout of Fort Haldon and its intended use, though the general intention was clear enough. Every city or town in Aquis, and most of the smaller villages as well, had temples to Garod for the local populations to attend, worship and tithe.
At this moment he wished Thyss were near him so that he could discuss the matter with her, express his annoyance. She had taken to exploring the mountains, journeying into the Spine in search of anything that wouldn’t bore her. “Perhaps I will find my own giant spider to slay,” she had said. At first, Thyss would only disappear for a few hours at a time, but lately she had made her expeditions longer, as much as several days. He worried for her safety for no rational reason; Thyss could more than handle herself against virtually any foe, but even still, her trips or rather the lack of her presence twisted Cor’s stomach into knots. He couldn’t much complain about it; it kept her busy and took her mind off how mundane their existence had become since returning to Fort Haldon.
Excluding Rael’s death of course.
Cor looked down the grassy slope that led to the center of Fort Haldon and saw the architect. He was a short man of only five feet or so in height named Karl, and he climbed his way upward. Cor had been informed that architect wasn’t entirely accurate, as the man had several architects underneath him who actually designed the individual buildings; Karl called himself more of a civil planner, whatever that meant exactly. He was an odd man who spoke very quickly in short, clipped phrases when he felt the need to speak, moving quickly from one topic to the next. Though not very long, Karl’s light brown hair always stood on end in a most unruly fashion and often fell into his eyes as he spoke. Cor found him oddly comical.
The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel Page 13