Path of Kings

by James Dale

  And these are the words given to me by The King of Heaven.

  In the days of long shadows, he who was cast from Heaven,

  he who is called Gol’gar the Sa'tan,

  will stretch forth his hand from his chains beneath

  the earthe to torment the Children of Yh.

  And the Bloodstone will rise from the depths of Sheol,

  spewed from the belly of the world on a river of fire

  to find its new master. And one who once swore to

  protect the earthe will become the slayer of nations

  under its dark sway.

  With burning anger and dense clouds of smoke, his lips

  full of wrath and his tongue a consuming fire,

  he will make war on the Children of the Creator,

  shaking the nations in the sieve of destruction.

  With raging anger and consuming fire, with cloudburst,

  thunderstorms and hail he will lay waste to the

  fertile field and throw down the walls of the cities.

  As a lion growls, a great lion standing over his prey,

  and though a band of shepherds will stand together

  against him, he will not fear by their shouts

  or be disturbed by their clamor.

  They will flee before his armies, numerous as the stars

  in the heavens, countless as the sands of the desert.

  Their young men will be put to the sword. Their strongholds

  will fall because of terror. At the sight of his battle

  standard their commanders will panic, wailing in despair.

  Jack struggled through the pages, his heart breaking at the horror and destruction Graith and his Bloodstone reaped upon the people of Aralon. When he could stomach no more, he put aside the prophecies with a shaking hand.

  "Where...where are the passages about the return of the High King's Heir and the Bloodstone?"

  "Here," Thonicil said quietly, finding the text for him.

  Jack resumed his reading.

  "And after the numbered years have come to pass,

  when the people shall say to themselves 'Evil is no

  more.' the fallen one will rise again.

  From his sleep within the belly of Mt. Sheol, he will

  come, tempered by the fires that rage within the earthe.

  And he will stride forth again to make war on the

  Children of Yh.

  The nations of the east will remember his call.

  The Cursed Ones; the Dragons, warwolves, and all manner

  of fell creatures will flock to his summons.

  And there will sound from the east a wail of fury, echoing

  from the mountains like the cry of doom!

  Jack skimmed quickly through the pages until he found verses he had read before.

  "And I will call forth my champion." Says the Lord. "From

  his long exile I will call him."

  Not remembering days of old, I will set his feet on the

  path of war against mine enemies."

  And he will rain fire on those who debase themselves before

  the fallen one. Denying the Alter of Blood the virgin

  sacrifice, he will secure refuge from those who would

  count him among the criminals.

  "That can only be Norgarth and Thessa," Jack thought to himself. "I've certainly found refuge for saving her."

  He read on finding verses chronicling his recent experiences in remarkable...even admittedly prophetic...detail.

  "He will hold converse with those who have passed before."

  The Elohara?

  "At his shout, lightning will consume the fallen ones.

  The Galekindar at Tanaevar?

  "He will walk the darkness beneath the earthe."

  Gorthiel?

  "He will lose the caged bird to do battle."

  The Talon of the Hawk?

  Jack skipped ahead until he discovered events yet to come.

  "He will drive serpents from the Dragons lair."

  "He will slay the winged darkness."

  "He will walk the Path of Dreams."

  "He will call the wolf to be his brother."

  "There certainly is a lot “He wills” in here marking the identity of Ljmarn's heir," he said slowly, deciding he would gauge what the prince had learned from the prophecies. "You would think...with all this...he would not be so hard to find."

  "One would think," Thonicil nodded in agreement. "Yet...even with so much written about him, his identity remains closed to us."

  "There is a saying where I come from," Jack replied. "Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees."

  "Wise words," King Theros said, standing beside their table unnoticed until now.

  "Your majesty," Jack stood, bowing quickly. "We didn't see you come in."

  "No matter," Theros replied, waving him back to his seat. "How goes your search?"

  "Slowly father," Thonicil sighed.

  "You sound disappointed. Did you truly expect in one morning to unlock mysteries which have confounded the most learned scholars for eight-hundred years?"

  "No father."

  "Ljmarn's Heir will be found. And sooner than later I expect," Theros smiled. "If not, he will declare himself. The prophecies predict such an event as well."

  "Then why search for him at all?" Thonicil asked.

  "Because the prophecies say we must," Theros shrugged. "But for now my son, you must search for him alone. The Duke of Thonbor has an appointment to keep."

  "Appointment sir?" Jack inquired. "Where? With whom?"

  "The royal armorer," the king replied. "If you are to have a suit of plate ready in time for the Haelfest, Master Sennaca should begin work on it at once. And to do so he needs to have your measurements."

  "Oh...Of course. If you will excuse me Prince Thonicil," Jack said, standing. "I will return as quickly as I can."

  "Take all the time you need," Thonicil nodded. "I am not going anywhere soon."

  The Dragonslayer lead Braedan from the library, back down the narrow hallway and into the lift. Though the ride down in the primitive elevator was even more hairy than the trip up, Jack acted dutifully impressed, for he could see Theros was immensely pleased with his engineer's most resent marvel. Arriving at the base of Illroc Adar once more, the king escorted him through the throne room, vacant now expect for a lone servant whistling a tuneless ditty as he polished the smooth marble floor on hands and knees.

  Exiting the Dragon's Fang, the pair passed through several courtyards until they came upon a covered walkway. At its far end were a pair of open doors from which emanated a whooshing sound like the labored breathing of a winded giant. Wavering sheets of super-heated air poured from the doors with each wheezing breath, producing a shimmering ripple that caused the opening to look as though it were submerged beneath the wind tossed waters of a shallow pool. It could only be the entrance to the royal foundry. Theros did not even slow as they neared, though the heat billowing from the open doors seemed just this side of a blast furnace. Bracing himself against the inferno, Jack followed on the king's heels.

  He was immediately drenched with sweat, eyes watering from the stifling heat. Wiping them clear on his sleeve he soon discovered the source of the ungodly heat. A huge forge dominated the center of the room, attended by sweat sheened, leather clad blacksmiths who pumped furiously at an equally huge bellows. Leaning over the glowing coals as if oblivious to their hellish fury was a small, wiry man of indeterminate age. In his hands he held a pair of long metal tongs which he turned slowly in the midst of the fire.

  "Faster boys!" the smith roared, his voice carrying easily over the bellowing of the forge. "That's Ithlemere you be workin' not copper!"

  "Ho! Sennaca!" Theros shouted. "Sennaca!"

  The smith turned angrily at the interruption, a blistering rebuke on his lips, then grinned when he saw the interloper was his king. "Keep pumping lads!" he cried, turning away from the forge. "If'
n you let that Truesilver cool I'll have your hides!"

  "I hope we have not interrupted anything important?" Theros smiled as the smith greeted them with a bow.

  "Just busy work m'Lord," Sennaca grinned. "Something to keep the lads out of mischief. Idle hands are the Dark Ones workshop. This be him I take it?" he asked, eyeing Jack with a critical eye.

  "Jack Braedan," Theros smiled. "Sennaca de'Bain. The greatest human smith in all of Aralon."

  "Master Sennaca," Jack nodded, offering his hand to the wiry little man.

  "A mite scrawny to be sending off to Thonbor aint he?" Sennaca asked, taking Jack's hand in a vice like grip. "No matter, I'll make 'im a suit he kin grow inta. I suppose you've got some idea of your own as to what you want this tin bucket to look like? Eh your grace?"

  "Since you've mentioned it," Jack smiled, refusing to be intimidated by the forceful little smith, "as a matter of fact I do."

  "I can see you two are going to get along famously," Theros laughed. "Duke Jack, take my advice and to listen closely to any of Sennaca's suggestion. Though you may not come away with the armor you originally envisioned, I guarantee, the plate he fashions for you will one day save your life. Sennaca, I place him in your capable hands. Good day gentlemen," the King of Brydium bowed, and left them to their task.

  "Well your grace," the wiry smith growled, reaching into a pocket of his leather apron and extracting a worn pipe and pouch of tobacco. "Why don't ya tell me about this suit want, then we'll measure you up."

  As Jack began to tell him of the blue lacquered, form fitting three-quarter plate from his vision in the Elohara, the master smith slowly lost his haughty manner. By the time he had finished describing the rectangular shield with its flaming sword and three-pointed crown, Sennaca had forgotten all about the valuable Ithlemere his apprentices were quickly transforming into worthless slag in the red-hot forge.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sir Algereon’s Maze

  An hour later Jack left the shaken master smith, but not until he had elicited a promise from Sennaca to keep his identity secret until after Ljmarn Haelfest. He'd taken a great risk in revealing himself to the wiry armorer, but it could not be helped if he was going to have the suit of plate he'd seen in the Elohara. Yet he left the foundry confident the armorer would not breathe a word to anyone, including King Theros, concerning the long lost and sought for Heir of the High-King of Aralon. The blue lacquered armor would be forged in complete secrecy and he would depart Brydium without anyone but Sennaca the wiser.

  Revealing himself to the master smith had not come without price however. Entrusting the knowledge of his destiny and heritage to Sennaca, coming so soon after suffering through the unsettling passages of events foretold by Aaracus, had been emotionally draining? Jack soon noticed a tall hedge row and a placard identifying it as Sir Alergon’s Maze. A wander through a hedge maze might be just the thing to take his mind off things for a bit, Jack decided. He entered the maze and for the next quarter our, made his way through complicated the maze. Coming to a dead end, Jack spotted a stone bench nearby where travelers could stop and rest to contemplate where they had taken a wrong turn. Somewhere close by, a songbird chirped happily, perhaps rejoicing over a choice insect it had found in the lush green bushes, or perhaps merely exulting in the beauty of the day. Overhead, billowy white clouds floated lazily across a perfect spring sky, while off to his right, stretching upwards toward the heavens like a monolith of righteousness, rose Illroc Adar. It was the perfect spot to sit for a while and collect his thoughts. Perfect in every way except for the sound of whispered voices coming from the other side of the hedge.

  Jack sighed and prepared not move on, not wishing to accidentally overhear a private conversation, perhaps between two lovers, like him only seeking a moment of uninterrupted solitude. Then one of the voices spoke a name that froze him in his tracks. Kiathan! An involuntary hiss escaped his lips and the voices abruptly ceased.

  "What was that?"

  A moment of tense silence, then a muttered curse.

  "Twas nothing. The wind perhaps."

  "Twas was not the wind."

  "Then it was a bird!" the other voice said angrily. "I have been in this cursed maze for an hour and have seen no one. Do you think I would risk discovery now? When victory is almost within our grasp? Now, tell me again what happened. Kiathan will want an explanation from me when he learns the criminal Braedan is still alive."

  "What more can I say?" the other voice sighed. "He is alive because he killed five of my best swordsmen."

  "Then you must find him and finish the job," snarled the second voice.

  "But...but how? There is a squad of Dragon Guards dogging his heels this morning."

  "They cannot watch his every move!" the second voice retorted hotly, "At this moment he is somewhere within the palace grounds. No doubt receiving more undeserved honors from the pig masquerading as a king! Find him a stick a knife between his ribs! Or I swear by the Bloodstone, tomorrow it will be your lifeless body the watch finds in some ally."

  A red haze of rage engulfed Jack. Not two feet from him, separated by only a thin wall of leaves and twigs, were two men plotting his death! And one of the voices was maddeningly familiar! He was sure he had heard it before. Yesterday in fact! At his reception! But who could it be? There had been over three hundred guests in the palace to see him ennobled, and he had spoken words with every one of them.

  "But how?" one of the conspirators whined, interrupting his thoughts.

  "You are the assassin!" the familiar voice snarled quietly. "Find a way!"

  "Yes m'Lord," the other muttered weakly.

  "Now go! And do not seek me out again until he is dead!"

  "Yes m'Lord."

  He could not let them escape! Before Braedan realized what he was doing, his sword leapt from its sheath with an angry shiiiing!

  "Someone is there!"

  "Go! Quickly! We must not be seen together!" cried the familiar voice.

  "Stop!" Jack roared. In desperation he thrust his sword through the hedge and was rewarded with a surprised cry of pain. He withdrew it to find it bloodied about two inch up the blade, as he heard the sound of frantic, fleeing footsteps. How to catch them? The nearest turn in the maze was twenty yards away and he had no idea where it would lead.

  Over the hedge?

  Without hesitation, Jack leapt onto the stone bench, vaulting over the hedge. Though he cleared it easily, unfortunately he landed awkwardly on the other side, re-injuring his right knee as his leg twisted painfully beneath him. In agony, he struggled to his feet in time to see a fleeting glimpse of a figure dressed in black, one hand clutching his bloody side as he raced around a corner of the maze. Of the other conspirator, he saw no sign, but suddenly he heard a muffled crash and a scalding curse as the fleeing man ran headlong into a brushy dead-end.

  Which should he follow?

  The injured man could be more easily caught, but he could also be quickly identified trying to flee the palace grounds. Seconds were wasting! Deciding it would be better to try and get a look at the second conspirator, Braedan chose to follow him and broke into a limping run.

  A right turn and a left brought him to a four-way intersection with no idea which direction to choose. Until fate lent a helping hand and the object of his chase tripped over his own feet in his haste to flee, sprawling noisily to the grass just on the other side of the hedge! There was another stone bench only a few feet away. With a growl of pure, animal fury, Jack ignored the fire shooting through his knee and attempted to leap over the hedge once more. Due to his injury however, he only made it as far as the crest and became entangled in the thick, leafy growth.

  Frenzied struggles eventually freed him, but when he tumbled to the other side and recovered his feet, there was no sign of the fleeing conspirator. With no possibility of catching his prey now, Jack began to shout for help, praying someone would be drawn by his cries.

  "Assassins!" he shouted desperately, breaking i
nto hopeless pursuit on his injured leg. "Assassins in the maze!"

  Spurred by his shouts, the other man quickly outdistanced him, leaving the hobbled Jack cursing the missed opportunity to discover the identity of either conspirator. He had found the agents of Nalon-Lox and had let them slip through his grasp! Cursing his injured knee and missed opportunity, Jack wandered painfully through the maze, with no idea on how to escape the living labyrinth. Quite by accident, only a few minutes later he stumbled upon one the four exits and almost collided headlong into Valarius Th'lann.

  "Duke Braedan?" the chief steward cried in surprise. He was breathing heavily and in his right hand was a bared dagger. "What are...is something wrong?"

  "Call the guard Valarius!" Jack cried.

  "Why?" the steward asked, slowly lowering his blade.

  "There were assassins..."

  "Assassins? Where?"

  "In the bloody maze!" Jack roared.

  "What goes on here!" a pair of Dragon Guards demanded, arriving in a rush with swords drawn.

  "His grace says there are assassins in Sir Algeron's Maze," Valarius replied quickly. "You...go to the north entrance. You... to the south. I will..."

  "They're not in the maze now!" Jack shouted. "I chased them out! We've got to close the palace gates! Quickly damn you!" he cried when neither of the guards moved. "Before they can escape."

  "Sir?" they both asked hesitantly.

  "Do as he says," Valarius nodded. "Close the gates and inform the Captain of the Watch no one leaves the palace until he hears from me personally."

  "Run dammit!" Jack roared.

  "Yes m'Lord!" the guards saluted, sprinting off in the direction of the gate.

  "Come on Valarius. If we hurry..."

  "Nay your grace," the steward interrupted, guiding him forcefully to a nearby bench. "You are injured. Rest here. The Dragon Guard will find these...assassins."

  More guards soon began to arrive in ones and twos. Valarius quickly sent them to alert other parts of the palace and gather more men to begin a detailed search. When a full squad appeared, he sent one man to each exit then ordered the remaining three to search the maze on the slim chance one of the assassins had remained inside, hiding in some cul'de'sac in hopes of making his escape after the furor had abated. Two of Jack's Lions also soon arrived, Kaegel and Erlwin, and they positioned themselves protectively on either side of their injured lord with swords drawn.