"Well, we got the King's artifact. I guess we'll be released from our bond now, eh?" Borik asked hopefully.
"I wouldn't count on it, friend. Whatever shadow war our king is involved in, I doubt that our part is finished yet," Malek answered. "Now I'm going to bed. All that swimming has made me exhausted."
The trip back took a full two weeks of sailing and almost another two weeks of horseback riding. They were currently awaiting the King's audience in one of his private chambers. The wait was not long as Jarvin declared an end to court as soon as the message arrived that his peculiar band of adventurers had returned successful.
The King burst through the doors with his advisers, Bishop Caalendor and the wizard Aeger Illifan, close on his heels. "My friends, what news have you brought me?"
"Your Majesty, I have the pleasure of presenting you with the Shark King's trident," Maude said with an added flair of the embellished name she made up.
"It is magnificent," the King gasped as he held the weapon in his hands. "What do you know of it, Lady Maude?"
Maude ignored the snickers that the term Lady elicited from the dwarf and answered her king. "Your Majesty, I personally witnessed the trident hurl a group of fighters across an open arena and freeze several hundred cubic feet of sea water and creatures into solid ice. I have heard that it can control the seas in a large area by creating waves large enough to swamp war galleys and whirlpools to suck sailors and boats to the bottom of the sea."
"Aegar, what do you make of it?" Jarvin asked as he handed the trident to the learned wizard.
"On first glance, I would say it could do all that and likely a great deal more. Unfortunately, it is utterly worthless."
“Worthless, how can it be worthless? We risked our necks to get that blasted giant fish fork and you tell us it's useless?" Borik raged.
"Yes, you see it can only be used under the ocean and likely only by an aquatic species. So as for our purposes, it is useless," the wizard responded.
"It is still very pretty," Tarth said encouragingly with his vacuous gaze wanting to help.
"Pretty! I'll give you a pretty swift kick in the arse with my boot, you waterlogged elf! I got eaten by a shark for that damn thing!"
"Be quiet, Borik, and leave Tarth alone!" ordered Maude, grabbing the dwarf by the collar of his breastplate.
The dwarf was in mid kick and fell onto his backside due to the sudden impediment of Maude's hold on his collar. Tarth stuck his tongue out at the dwarf who promptly pushed his jowls forward with his hands making his face wrinkle up like an old bulbous-nosed prune. Tarth squealed in fright, pulled his tongue back in, and smoothing his face with his hands.
"It is still an ancient artifact and impressive to behold. It will make a fine display of our King's power I think. However, I fear that this does not release you from your contract," Bishop Caalendor advised the group.
"Of course not," Borik muttered, distracted now from his taunting of the vain elf.
"Rest up and enjoy a plentitude of fine food and accommodations for a time. You have all earned it. My people will find a place for you within the castle as my guests. I will send you off again once we find another trail for you to follow."
With that said, the King dismissed his motley hire swords and took his leave.
"Well, at least we are being taken care of with good food and shelter," Malek said as they walked down the long stone hall to their rooms.
"Oh sure, we can make a sign next time we need work, 'will adventure for food' it will say. Be a laughingstock that's what we'll be," the dwarf grumbled.
He kept on mumbling about stupid dwarf-eating sharks, stupid rashes, stupid elves, and stupid tridents until they entered their rooms that had several plates of food under silver-domed serving platters and large mugs of ale, mead, and wine.
"There, you see, Borik, there are worse things in life," Malek said helpfully as he looked at the feast prepared for them.
"Yeah, and I bet you my mother’s dowry we'll find em soon enough," the dwarf shot back as he dug into the proffered food and ale with enthusiasm.
EPILOG
Several dark robed figures sat around a large stone table in high-backed chairs of ancient design. The light was poor, barely illuminating the grey, featureless walls of the dusty, stale chamber.
“Ulric is taking too long to secure the armor, and with it, the throne,” one of the figures said.
“The length of time is not unexpected. Dundalor’s armor was scattered throughout the known world a millennium ago. We knew it would take time to recover.”
“But what of the delay to our own plans for the King and the kingdom?”
“We are not ready to move right now anyway. The King still commands forces that are loyal to him. If Ulric ultimately fails, we want enough of our own people in place to make the coup as bloodless as possible, at least to the citizens. Jarvin and his ilk are another matter.”
“How much longer shall we allow Ulric to ready himself to make his bid for the crown before we must write him off as a failure and move in ourselves?”
“Not long, another year, perhaps two will give us enough time to judge Ulric’s chances of success or failure and shore up our own position in the interim.”
“These so-called adventurers the King has found. What of them? Are they a threat to our plans?”
“Hardly. The King is grasping at straws. Even were they not complete idiots, it is a simple matter to keep them properly occupied while giving Jarvin a false sense of hope. Trust me; they are more of a liability than an asset.”
“What of the recent reports of the dead rising?”
“Fanciful tales from peasants most likely, but we can use it to our gain regardless of their veracity. Casually spread the word that it is the result of having a bastard sit the throne. After all, the King represents the land, and if his blood is impure, it surely taints the land as well."
“Very well, gentlemen, all glory to the sun god.
“All hail Solarian,” the dark cabal intoned in unison.
FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS TO OUR BRAVE SORCERER IN THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THE SORCERER’S PATH SAGA, COMING SOON.
A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
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Read on for a sneak preview of my darkly humorous and exciting book “Shrouds of Darkness”.
Please drop by at http://www.brockd.us and give my other stories a read. Feel free to look me up on facebook!You can also check me out on my NEW blog at http://brockdeskins.blogspot.com. I post release dates, answer questions, and occasionally some new covers for my books!
The Sorcerer’s saga is an open-ended fantasy series of a young boy of wealth who loses everything before discovering great potential as a sorcerer while trying to survive on the deadly streets he now must call home. Travel with young Azerick as he grows up, grows strong, and grows steadfast in his determination to survive and make those pay who have taken everything from him.
Shrouds of Darkness: Leo Malone has been a vampire for the better part of the twentieth century. Once a prominent Sherriff (vampire cop), he now earns his living as a private eye and occasional bodyguard for anyone that requires some serious protection. Leo is hired by the daughter of a mob accountant who has gone missing.
The fact that he is also a werewolf has Leo following a trail of grisly murders that will lead him through a web of intrigue and conspiracy involving his fellow vampires and the local werewolves that make New York their home, all the while trying to keep one particularly determined cop off his back and himself out of jail. Leo is not some pretty-boy vampire that all the girls ogle over but a hard eyed, remorseless killing machine who doesn’t take crap from anyone.
The Portal is a fun and exciting story of some less than popular teenagers that accidentally open a portal to a mystical land during one of their role-playing games. Drew, a dour and anti-establishment teenager, is pulled through and captured by evil creatures lying
in wait on the other side. Now it is up to his friends and older brother to rescue him, but who will rescue Drew’s captors from him?
Thank you all for your patronage. Buying my books keeps me from living in a box under the overpass, which frankly, is not conducive to the creative process. If you received a copy without actually purchasing it then I hope you will have the decency to feel bad as you drive past me holding my cardboard sign that reads: “will write for food”. Thank you and good journeys.
SHROUDS OF DARKNESS
WARNING
The following excerpt contains adult language not suitable for all readers. If you are a minor or offended by profanity, stop reading now. (Don’t worry, only 2 instances of the F-word in this excerpt)
The courier and I reach the coffee shop at almost the exact same time. He’s a typical bike rider, sporting spandex shorts, plastic helmet, and a windbreaker with his company logo emblazoned across the back. I acknowledge him with a wave and he pedals over to me.
“Mr. Malone?”
I reply a curt, “Yeah,” as I show my ID and pay him the COD and promised tip.
He thanks me and smiles appreciatively as he hands over a large envelope with the evident bulge of the cell phone in the middle of it before pedaling off to whatever delivery is next on his list.
I take a seat at one of the outdoor tables of the coffee shop and begin examining the contents of the envelope. I’m looking through the call logs when I young man in a black t-shirt beneath a green apron and sporting numerous facial piercings interrupts me.
“Good morning, sir, welcome to Perk Place coffee house, what can I get for you?”
“Some fucking privacy,” I growl in response without looking up from my stack of papers.
“Sir, I am obliged to tell you that these tables are for customers only, and if you want to sit here you need to buy something,” he counters in a voice that shows how much he has to force himself to be polite.
“And I am obliged to inform you that if you speak one more word, I will tear your arms off and beat you to death with them.”
I glance up and see that he is actually stupid enough to ignore my warning, so I grab the stainless steel cocoa shaker off the table and crush it like a paper cup. The idiot squeaks in appreciable fear and seeks safety indoors.
I finish flipping through the papers and start looking through the cell’s contacts; putting names, numbers, and addresses with the entries on the pages when I am once again interrupted, this time by the manager with Shrapnel-face standing several paces behind him.
The manager clears his throat, both to get my attention and to try to get his words past the obvious fear he is trying to hide. “Sir, threatening my employees and destroying Perk Place property is unacceptable.”
“Not nearly as unacceptable as that comb-over,” I fire back as I continue to scroll through the contacts screen.
“I must insist that you pay for that shaker and vacate the premises immediately, or I will be forced to call the police!”
I look away from the small screen and up at the nervously sweating manager. “How much does that tin can cost?”
Assuming I am actually cooperating, he stands a little straighter and replies, “$9.99 plus tax.”
“And how much do you think a skull fracture costs, calculating in the time lost from work and the perpetual drooling resulting from brain damage?”
“I don’t understand,” his words say, but his body language shows he knows exactly what I mean.
“It’s not a complicated question. It’s based on the basic business acumen of cutting one’s losses. If that is also too complicated for your community college educated brain to comprehend, let me break it down for you even further. Fuck off before I add you to what may be a rather long list of people I have to kill today. Do you understand that?” I ask him nonchalantly.
I think it is the matter-of-fact tone as much as the actual threat itself that sends him and his moronic lackey running away. Whatever the reason, I am glad for the moment of peace. I pick a name with frequent calls and texts and begin typing.
Yo, Mikey, U feed lately?
I despise the concept of texting so much I feel dirty right now, but a phone call is out of the question. I need to ascertain two things right now: is Mikey a vampire, and where can I find him?
Fortunately, I do not have long to wait before getting a response.
T-dog, what up? Yeah, ate some prosti near the docks last night but down 4 w/e. Where u been?
Problems, bro. U at home? Meet u there in a few.
I slip the phone into my pocket after Mikey confirms he is home and is waiting there for me. Thanks to Marvin getting me the billing and registration information from the various phone accounts, I know right where to go.
“I smell donuts and an undeserved sense of importance,” I remark as I stand, turn around, and face the two uniformed cops standing behind me.
“The manger says you are threatening his staff and destroying property. What’s that about?” Barney Fife number one asks.
“A simple misunderstanding I think. I was simply giving Captain Comb-over a lesson in business sense.”
“Did you break that canister?” Barney number two asks, indicating the crushed shaker on the table.
I look from the cops to the manager and flip a twenty onto the table, deciding I have better things to do than continue picking fights at a coffee shop.
“You know,” Barney one says as I drop the double sawbuck onto the table, “it would have been a lot less hassle a good deal cheaper if you had just bought a cup of coffee.”
“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?” I reply with a smile and tip of an imaginary hat.
Fortunately, the cops also have better things to do with their time than pursue a verbal threat, much to the manager’s protests. I hear them giving them manager the same advice I did about cutting his losses as I walk away.
The Sorcerer's Ascension (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 41