Kethril

by Carroll, John H.

  Liselle considered interrupting, but something told her to leave Anilyia alone. It was clear that she was mad at the general for insulting her boyfriend.

  “Your Highness, I noticed you’ve been holding Tathan of the Shadow’s hand,” the older wizard said. “Does your father know of your feelings toward him?” His lips twisted in an over-confident smirk.

  “You won’t be the first wizard I’ve killed.” Tathan’s voice was dark and sinister, slithering across the table to caress the wizard’s ear. The man’s face whitened.

  Emmaoen screamed. A lightning bolt darted from her finger to hit the middle of the table. Everyone stood up, drew weapons or prepared spells and looked for the danger, with the exception of Sir Danth who calmly remained sitting.

  Emmaoen jumped on her chair, looking around in a panic. “A spider! There was a spider on the table. Who knows how many more are here?!” She pointed at General Bormann. “You promised me there wouldn’t be any spiders here.” She scanned the tent ceiling and raised her arm to point. “There’s another one!” A thin lightning bolt from her finger zapped it, making a flame appear in the canvas.

  Vevin started dancing. “There’s hundreds all over the ceiling of the tent!” Then he started shooting out mini lightning bolts. Emmaoen screamed loudly again. The two of them shot off rapid-fire bolts all over the fabric of the tent. More of the spiders fell onto the table and surrounding area. The officers started jumping around, thwapping themselves about the head and shoulders to get them off.

  Guards ran in with weapons drawn, only to see the tent catch fire in a great whoosh. Liselle grabbed the moisture in the air, solidified it, and then cast it to the fabric like rain falling upwards. Steam hissed while Vevin and Emmaoen turned their attention to the spiders that had fallen on the table and officers. By unspoken agreement, Vevin zapped the ones on the table so as not to be seen taking hostile actions.

  Emmaoen had no qualms with setting the hair and tabards of the men on fire. Many of them cursed aloud in pain and shock before running outside. Liselle was helpful in re-solidifying the steam to pour water over the little fires on the men. It was very effective and the three of them were getting into a rhythm.

  The remaining fabric of the tent fell, exposing them to soldiers who had gathered around with drawn weapons, certain that something terrible was happening. They were treated to the sight of their commander ducking with arms over his head. All other officers were in the process of running away. The older wizard was standing with his arms folded, fuming. Tathan was holding the princess protectively while Emmaoen was zapping the last two spiders on the table. Throughout all of it, Sir Danth had remained seated.

  In a great booming voice, General Bormann informed the troops what had happened with a single word. “Spiders!” The men put their weapons away, nodding as though it had happened many times before.

  Emmaoen took her plate and finished putting food on it. Liselle sat down and went back to eating her food too. She had to pick out a bit of burnt tent fabric, but it didn’t bother her too much. The rest of the companions followed suit, as did the older wizard, though he still looked mad. General Bormann rubbed his temples before sitting down too.

  As soon as possible, both the general and wizard left without any kind of parting. When everyone was gone, Emmaoen leaned forward to talk to Vevin on the other side of Liselle. “Thank you for helping me with the spiders.”

  “Oh yes. I saw they were bothering you. That was a lot of fun!” Vevin exclaimed happily.

  “I hate spiders. They killed my parents,” Emmaoen said.

  “Oh, that’s terrible.” Vevin was very upset for her.

  “What happened?” Liselle asked.

  Emmaoen picked at her food. “Mommy and daddy were having sex in the woods while visiting the hunting cabin and a bunch of giant spiders slid down from the trees and ate them.”

  Tathan nodded knowingly. “That’s a bad way to go. I’ve seen the husks of bodies with all their juices sucked out by giant spiders.” Anilyia hit him in the chest with her arm as hard as she could. “Ow!” he exclaimed. “That hurt.”

  “He’s right.” Emmaoen nodded sadly. “I hate spiders. I just know they want to kill me too.”

  “Why is there a cow in camp?” a soldier asked from outside of where the tent used to be. Sure enough, a cow was lumbering at a trot toward the dining table.

  The companions stood, wondering what in the world could be happening. Liselle realized it was aiming at Tathan who jumped up onto his table just before it hit him. He had to jump again as the cow plowed through the tables, knocking them over with angry moos.

  Liselle wondered if murdering the disciple of the cow goddess had anything to do with it. Hostile cows could complicate things in their journey. She thought about it for a moment while watching Tathan continue to dodge the cow. It was beyond her how cows could complicate things, but it seemed like a problem.

  As suddenly as the cow had attacked, it stopped and wandered back off toward whatever field it had come from. General Bormann appeared a minute later and surveyed the mess. “What happened here . . . or do I want to know?”

  Emmaoen helpfully explained, “A cow attacked Tathan of the Shadows.”

  The general turned and walked away without a word.

  When they woke in the morning, the mess from the tent was gone. No one invited them to breakfast and they rode at the back of the regiment as far away from the general as possible, much to the irritation of the princess who likely would have declared war on Kethril if she had had the ability.

  The rest of the journey was uneventful. It rained most of the time and Liselle found she preferred riding without a military escort.

  Chapter 11

  Tillg, the capital city of Kethril and the largest port on the Northern Ocean, was bigger than Liselle had imagined. Farms and smaller villages seemed grouped together a few miles before reaching the city proper, adding to the size. Once again, Vevin was including her in his illusion to keep people from noticing them. It enabled her to stare without being rude.

  What interested Liselle were the plain-clothed people. Children stopped to watch the troops pass and a number ran alongside. Occasionally, they would see a noble riding his horse or carriage interspersed with the wagons and carts. People sat on porches or stood in groups, sometimes talking gravely, other times with great mirth. Liselle wanted to know what they were discussing. What sort of things interested them? Were they happy or sad? What were their lives like?

  Emmaoen told her that they would be able to see the ocean from the wall of the palace or the windows of some of the higher floors. Liselle could already smell the ocean air. The wizardess had taken to eating her meals with the companions. Every time Emmaoen came, they would all check to make sure no spiders were going to spoil the meal. When they found one, either Vevin or the wizardess would zap it with little lightning bolts.

  Liselle was excited to see the ocean, but a sense of trepidation filled her. There were no flowers at sea. The thought of taking a journey without flowers nearby worried her that they might not be able to carry out their plan.

  Tillg was on the eastern side of Ice Dragon Bay, which Vevin explained was foolish since there was no such thing as an ice dragon. Two sections separated the city, called Upper Tillg and Lower Tillg. Lower Tillg was the largest area with twenty-five docks. Upper Tillg was at the top of a cliff where the ground rose high above Lower Tillg and the bay.

  Most of the nobles, wealthy merchants and upper classes of citizens lived in the upper city while the working class and impoverished lived in the lower. The cliff gradually declined inward to the east, becoming level with the surrounding land about three miles out. A large wall rising forty feet surrounded the city in a large semi-circle.

  Emmaoen explained that the wall was stupid and vain because no country could attack from inland. Mountains along the southern border were too steep for an army to climb, the Willden was to the east and monsters from the Northern Wastes weren’t intell
igent enough to attack in force. The wall was more an indication of wealth and power. Liselle was impressed even if it wasn’t necessary.

  All but twenty soldiers split off to the north to go to barracks outside of Tillg. General Bormann led the rest through the Upper City to the castle, which overlooked the bay from the top of the cliff. The hooves of their horses clip-clopped along cobbled streets that weren’t as pretty as Puujan’s, but worked much better than the muddy roads they had traveled thus far. The architecture outside of the walls had been a mixture of stone and wood, but now they were among nicer houses that were predominately stone. Emmaoen said that the closer they got to the bay cliffs, the older the buildings would be. The castle itself was nine hundred years old.

  Liselle was thrilled to see planters outside of most windows. The flowers within quivered their petals at her. Emmaoen noticed the flowers moving and stared at them for a moment. Then she glimpsed to see if anyone else had noticed. Liselle looked ahead innocently. More flowers waved at Liselle and she responded by smiling and waving back. Emmaoen turned sharply to her. “Aha! What sorcery are you doing?”

  “I’m not doing any sorcery. The flowers were telling me hello, so I was telling them hello back,” she answered.

  The wizardess looked suspiciously at Liselle, back to the plants, then at Liselle again. “You talk to flowers?”

  “Yes, yes I do.” Liselle smiled winningly. Emmaoen stared at her for a minute, shrugged, and then went back to riding along lost in thought. Every once in a while she would stare at the moving flowers and then give Liselle an appraising look.

  Soon after passing the wall, the wide avenue curved upward. Liselle could see distant towers ahead and began to get excited. She grinned in excitement the rest of the way.

  An older, smaller wall surrounded the castle. Emmaoen said, “It’s the original city wall built centuries ago. As the city and kingdom grew, so did the castle. People were moved out of the old city a little bit at a time until it became nothing but castle grounds. Each king builds a new tower or wing in the style of the day, so none of the architecture matches.”

  “Sounds like a fun place to explore,” Tathan remarked.

  “I’m certain you’re not going to be allowed anywhere alone, Tathan of the Shadows,” Emmaoen replied with a tinge of panic in her voice.

  Tathan smirked and then pointed at something crawling on the ground. “Spider.” Emmaoen let out a tiny scream and zapped it. Anilyia leaned over from her horse and thwapped the rogue on the arm for teasing the poor mage.

  “Dismount!” the general’s voice bellowed from the front of the line. They were in a large, cobbled courtyard surrounded by whitewashed stone buildings. Servants carried things from one place to another, merchants and nobles gathered in groups to talk about the weather or whatever they liked to talk about and royal guards wearing polished armor and spotless tabards stood watch over everything.

  A detailed statue of a sword-bearing king mounted on a rearing horse while fighting off monsters dominated the center. The monsters were furry, about eight feet tall and had pelts for clothing and armor. Their weapons looked to be clubs with bone spikes and they had large mouths with sharp teeth. Emmaoen saw her staring at it. “That’s the first king of Kethril fighting off skeethies.”

  “Skeethies?” Liselle asked.

  “They’re monsters out of the Northern Wastes and southern mountains. Kethril used to be overrun by them, but King Skeethy Slayer there,” she gestured with a hand to the statue, “and his men went through and killed thousands. He built a fortress here and started the kingdom.”

  “So all of the skeethies are gone?” Liselle dismounted along with everyone else.

  “No, there’re a lot more in the Northern Wastes and in the mountains to the south. They breed like rabbits,” Emmaoen explained as she handed her horse off to a groom. “There are fortresses all along the north and outposts in the south with squads that keep skeethies from flooding into the plains.”

  “Are there any fortresses along the Willden?” Sir Danth asked.

  Emmaoen shook her head as the companions gathered together, waiting to enter the castle. “We can’t get anyone to build near the Willden. None of the troops are willing to go anywhere near it. Rethram is the closest village and the people there are insane. That’s the only explanation anyone has for why they would get so close.”

  “Insane and stupid,” Anilyia muttered. Tathan put an arm around her shoulder.

  Emmaoen saw the gesture. “Aren’t you supposed to get married and save the world or something, Your Highness? Tathan of the Shadows is a known seducer of women and I don’t think your betrothed will approve.”

  Anilyia glared at the wizardess. “He’s told me of his past and I don’t care. My affairs are none of your concern, peasant.” She spat the last word at Emmaoen’s feet.

  It didn’t faze the wizardess at all. “I am not a peasant, Your Highness. In any case, I think you’re a fool, regardless of whether or not it’s my concern.”

  Anilyia shrieked in rage and Tathan had to hold her by the waist to prevent her from choking Emmaoen. General Bormann chose that instant to walk up. “Please stop whatever it is you’re doing . . . and I don’t want to know what that might be. The king is waiting for you in the grand court. We are to proceed there immediately.” Without waiting for anything else to happen, the general turned and led the way. If Tathan hadn’t had his arm around Anilyia’s shoulders again, she most likely would have jumped Emmaoen.

  Liselle’s gaze went from side to side as she stared at people, statues lining the halls and the magnificent tapestries hanging everywhere. Voices echoed off the stone floors and high arched ceiling, creating a sound that seemed almost musical to her ears. A few minutes later, they were in the grand court. Six enormous pillars along either side of the carpeted walkway supported the high ceiling. Long stone tables and benches were three rows deep to either side behind the columns.

  People sat at the tables and chatted while others gathered in small groups along the wide carpet. At the end was a pair of grand thrones on a raised dais. Priests in long robes stood to the left side with tall hats and elegant staffs of power. Behind and to the sides of the largest throne were robed wizards, polished knights and important looking advisors. She drank in the sights in order to remember all of it. Liselle noticed Anilyia gazing longingly at the elegant gowns worn by the ladies of the court.

  Most extraordinary of all was the man sitting on one of the thrones . . . not sitting so much as lounging. His legs were hanging over one arm of the chair and his head rested on a pillow on the other arm. A golden crown with jewels in the peak was sitting sideways on his head. He had brownish blonde hair and neatly trimmed goatee. He wore the highest quality black leggings and red ruffled shirt. A rich blue cloak was open and precious jewelry adorned his hands, neck and ears. In his hands were four scepters. A smaller throne to the right was empty and a single black pillow lay upon the seat.

  “Zombie poop,” Tathan said quietly. He pointed at a woman with raven hair, black cape and long green robes that matched her exotic eyes. Standing next to her was a human-sized black squirrel. “That mysterious woman standing next to Steve the Squirrel is the one that tried to kill me in Puujan.”

  The man sitting on the throne stood and held his arms out in a grand gesture, one of the advisors nearby ducking the scepters. “Greetings, my amazing guests! It is so wonderful to see you. I am King Cranwer, ruler of Kethril. Thank you so much for coming to my humble abode.” His voice was intense and booming as he walked down three steps at the base of the dais. Upon reaching the bottom, he laughed heartily. “It’s not exactly humble, is it? It’s a castle!” He pointed the scepters in his left hand at his chest. “It is my castle though. I own it.” He waved the scepters around in every direction. “It’s my kingdom! I own the whole thing and I have the papers to prove it! Ha, ha!”

  Liselle began to worry. The appearance of the mysterious woman and her squirrel was bad enough, but the king
appeared to be crazy and that could make things difficult. Liselle was beginning to worry that everyone in the world was loopy.

  “Have you met my scepters?” the king asked, waving them at the companions.

  “We have not met your glorious scepters, Your Majesty,” Sir Danth said, banging a fist on his chest in salute. “It is a great honor to be invited into your glorious castle that looks over the city as an eagle looks over its eaglets. The mighty towers of the bastion reach to the sky as mountains rise above valleys to provide shelter for the abundant life that always seems to exist in valleys . . .”

  He would have continued, but the king interrupted. “My, but you do have a way with words, Sir Knight. I would know your name and order.”

  The knight bowed. “I am Sir Danth Wazmordin of the Black Order of the Knights of Morhain.”

  The king folded his arms and rested his chin on one of the scepters. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Black Order of the Knights of Morhain.” He turned to his advisors. “Historian Alcan, tell me of this order.”

  An older man blinked his eyes a few times. “Black Order of the Knights of Morhain . . . One of seven blessed orders of knights of the ancient Kingdom of Morhain which disappeared sixteen hundred years ago in an event called ‘The Great Disappearing’. The Black Order is the most feared of the seven, responsible for protecting and recovering treasures of the kingdom. One knight of the Black Order is worth a hundred soldiers . . .” Historian Alcan paused for a moment. “. . . There are a few other details. Not much information exists about the knights other than that, but the Kingdom of Morhain existed within the Willden Forest. No one knows what happened to it.” He looked up at Sir Danth. “If he is a Knight of Morhain, he’s sixteen hundred years old, and I don’t think that’s likely.”

  “Really?” the king asked in amazement. “That’s fascinating, almost as fascinating as my scepters.” He turned back to Sir Danth. “Are you truly sixteen hundred years old, Sir Knight?”