Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Stop!" Gullwain shouted to no effect. "Stop I say! Guards!"

  A pair of blue and silver liveried guardsmen rushed to obey, but unaware of the danger, they came without drawing their swords. Sensing their approach, Salazar wheeled and struck off the nearest guard's head and the stadium erupted in shocked dismay. The other man leapt fearlessly over the twitching body of his slain companion with a cry of rage, only to find himself impaled on Salazar's blade. He died with a choking sigh as the demon possessed swordsman withdrew the sword from his chest and turned again to face him again.

  Jack had not wasted the brief moment of distraction, tearing his own practice sheath from Grimrorr. The elven blade pulsed hotly in his hands, alive with protective Ailfar spells awakened by the advancing demon. But Grimrorr would not taste demon flesh this day. Salazar had taken only a single step toward Braedan when a flashing streak of blue light embedded itself in the possessed man's throat. Salazar dropped to his knees with an enraged cry of pain and clawed desperately at the offending object. An arrow!

  Following back along the path of its flight, Jack discovered the young Bowmaster, Lukas a'Maeridon already notching another arrow. Standing at his side, one on the right and the other on the left, were the twins A'randraial and Ciliandrion. Both Ailfar Spellweavers were surrounded by the pale nimbus of the same blue light that glowed from the arrow in Salazar's throat. Turning his attention back to Salazar, Jack watched him rip the shaft from his flesh, a jet of dark blood spurting from the gaping wound, then struggle to his feet once more. He went no farther. Suddenly, Kiathan Ellgaer stood between them, his gleaming sword raised high.

  "No Masss…" Salazar croaked around of mouthful of blood, then Ellgaer drove his blade deep into the swordsman's chest, silencing his cry. A momentary silence fell over the crowd, then some-where among the spectators a woman screamed and all became bedlam.

  "Clear the field!" Daenel d'Lachaeland commanded, running out surrounded by guardsmen. "Now damn it!"

  Cassaban was at Jack's side in an instant, quickly joined by Cyran and a circle of a dozen Raashan Razorbacks. As they hurried to usher him safely from the stadium, Jack saw Kiathan wrench his sword free from Jurden Salazar's lifeless body. The Duke of Raashan knelt down beside him and calmly wiped his bloody blade on the dead man's trouser leg, then as if feeling his gaze, turned to Jack with a look almost as demonic as Salazar's. Master? Was it what Jurden had been about to say before Kiathan silenced him? As Jack was whisked away by his mercenary shield, he felt Kiathan's eyes burning into his retreating back with vengeful fury.

  "What the hell happened out there?" General Malik shouted, meeting them outside the coliseum as Captain Khalmiya and several of his men rushed to get their horses. "Salazar...was he... did he go mad?"

  "Very likely," Jack nodded, climbing onto Eaudreuil's back as soon as Khalmiya and his men returned. He had yet to sheath Grimrorr, but the elven blade was silent now, the danger apparently passed. "Cyran?"

  "Yes, my lord?" the Lion asked, coming quickly to his side. Like Jack, he held bared steel in his hand.

  "Go thank the twins for me, will you? They may have just saved my life."

  "Yes, my lord," he bowed.

  "Be careful. Falan go with him."

  "Of course," the young swordsman nodded, drawing his own sword. Though he was obviously shaken by what had just happened, the look of grim determination on his face spoke plainly he was prepared to meet any threat.

  "Go with them Maadim," Malik instructed his captain. "There is more to this than a lone madman I'll wager. Am I right?" he asked as the three men disappeared into the crowds spilling from the stadium. A frantic spectator wandered too close to Jack and one of the Razorbacks sent him sprawling with an enthusiastic shove.

  "I'll explain it all when we are safely back in your hall," Jack said, flicking Eaudreuil's reigns.

  "Hemah! Sorath!" Malik cried, summoning two of the mercenaries. "Clear us a path through this rabble. Spare the poor louts your boot heels if you can, but don't let any of them slow us down!"

  The crowds parted quickly before the grim-faced Razorbacks, and they arrived at the Guild Hall without incident.

  "What happened out there?" Malik demanded when they were safely back in Jack's quarters.

  "Salazar was possessed by a demon," Jack stated bluntly as he began to remove his armor. "Summoned by Kiathan or a sorcerer to kill me, or rather, the Disinherited Knight."

  "You're sure?" the general asked. "I know the Dog of Raashan is an unscrupulous bastard, but consorting with demons? Surely even he would not stoop to such...such evil."

  "I'm afraid that's not half of what he's capable of," Jack, replied, then quickly informed the general exactly what kind of evil Kiathan was guilty, relating in gruesome detail the ritual he had witnessed in the bowels of the Iron Tower.

  "Merciful Yh," Malik hissed. "Are you saying Kiathan is...is..."

  "He is a servant of the Sa'tan," Jack nodded grimly. "Willingly bound to the dark-King and his Bloodstone, body and hell bound soul."

  "Merciful Yh," the general whispered.

  "Exactly."

  "But...why chance using a demon?" Malik asked. "Just to kill you?"

  They were alone. Cassaban and Erlwin had remained behind in the stables to see to the horses and the rest of the Razor-backs were busy insuring the security of the hall. Perhaps it was time to bring the general into his confidence.

  "Well now," Malik said, regarding Braedan thoughtfully, "This is...unexpected. So, you are..."

  "John Braedan of the House Bra'Adan. Heir to Sunheart and the Highsword Yhswyndyr."

  "No one would lie about a such a claim," the general reasoned logically. "It would be too easy to disprove. One touch of Deathbane would boil your blood and turn your to bones to mush."

  "So, I've heard." Jack sighed wearily.

  "After all this time, Ljmarn's Heir has returned. And I've got him sleeping on a cot and eating elbow to elbow with my dog soldiers," Malik said with an embarrassed grin. "Can you ever forgive me...My Lord?"

  "For what?" Jack shrugged. "Sheltering me in your hall? I should be asking your forgiveness. Kiathan knows where I am now, he'll be more determined than ever to get his hands on me. And you."

  "Don't worry about the Dog of Raashan," Malik replied confidently. "Or his demons. I know a few things about dealing with their kind. In my younger days, before I developed a passion for the sword, I spent three years on Lordsisle studying under the Staffclave."

  "Now it is my turn to be impressed general," Jack replied, "Though truthfully, I cannot say I am surprised."

  "Then you'll not be surprised when I tell you before I left Lordsisle to embark upon my present career, I was already a First Level Blue,” Malik continued. "Another year and I could have tested for full Lord. So, unless Kiathan can open the gates of Hell, he'll not touch you while you're in my house."

  "I don't think he can," Jack replied. Not yet anyway. "Still, maybe I should consider finding other quarters? Secrecy is still my best defense until I can deal with Kiathan face to face."

  "You'll do no such thing," Malik snorted. "True, I'm not a staffed Lord, but it only means I'm still humble enough to ask for help when I need it. In two hours, I can have five hundred swords in this hall with..."

  "That will not..."

  "...be necessary..."

  "...General Gamrin," A'randraial and Ciliandrion said, entering the room with Cyran following closely.

  "They insisted on coming my lord," the Lion explained.

  "I am glad they did," Jack smiled, standing to greet the Ailfar Spellweavers. "Now I can thank them personally."

  "It was..."

  "...nothing cousin," the twins replied in unison. "The beast possessing Salazar was but a minor demon."

  "Grimrorr could have dealt with it..."

  "...easily enough."

  "He called himself the Left Hand of Darkness," Jack informed the twins. "Does the name mean anything to you?"

  "If he truly were..
."

  "...he would not have died so easily."

  “Thank you again, nonetheless,” Jack replied.

  "Think nothing more of it, cousin," they assured him, though he could still see worry in their eyes. "Hail Malik Gamrin," the twins bowed, turning to the general.

  "Where are my manners?" Jack asked. "Malik, allow we to introduce A'randraial and Ciliandrion, sons of the House of An'Mera."

  "Well met," Malik bowed. "If I'd known before the day was done, I'd be hosting Ailfar princes’ and the Heir of Ljmarn Bra’Adan, I'd have taken a few minutes this morning to shave. What can I do for you gentlemen...excuse me, gentle-elves?"

  "We have come..."

  "...to watch over Lord Bra'Adan," they replied. "Father..."

  "...thought we should be near..."

  "...should any other minions..."

  "...of the Dark One..."

  "...attempt to reach him."

  "I don't think it's really necessary," Jack replied. "But I appreciate the thought."

  "Lady Ara’fael demanded to come as well," A'randraial smiled, "but..."

  "...we did not think General Malik would approve..."

  "...of a woman..."

  "...in his hall."

  "You should not have been so hasty my lords," the stocky general smiled. "It's been a long time since the Razorbacks hosted a lady."

  "Trust me sir," Jack grinned, "you don't want Ara’fael within a mile of here. She'd have had your men scrubbing the floors and washing behind their ears ten minutes after stepping through the door."

  "Sounds like an interesting woman," Malik mused. "Is she pretty?"

  "Prettier than a Saellian Blood Rose," Cyran laughed. "And twice as deadly."

  "Indeed?" Malik mused.

  "If we may General Malik..." Ciliandrion interrupted, "perhaps we could..."

  "...have a look around your hall?" A'randraial finished.

  "We would like to emplace a Word of Warning."

  "With your permission of course?"

  "Of course," Malik nodded quickly. "If you'll follow me my lords, I'll show you around personally. Jack…ummm I mean..."

  "Please," Jack sighed. "I don't have Yhswyndyr yet. Jack will be fine."

  "Very well...Jack. I'll have one of the boys bring you some supper shortly."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Cousin," A'randraial said as General Malik moved to show them the door, "keep Grimrorr close. That thing was not..."

  "...The Left Hand of Darkness," Ciliandrion finished, "But there is an ill wind blowing in Immer tonight."

  "So, tell me more about Lady Ara’fael," the general smiled, guiding the two Ailfar princes from the room, Cyran laughing quietly as he followed.

  Not long after they had gone, a grim-faced mercenary, Goaga Stephaen by name, arrived with a steaming bowl of beef stew and a loaf of soft brown bread. Before Jack had half-finished the delicious but simple fare, Grimrorr began to glow softly at the foot of his bed in answer to the Ailfar Spellweaver's Word of Warning.

  Perhaps because of this added protection, the night passed without incident and General Malik came to wake Jack before first light.

  "Any news this morning sir?" Braedan asked as he rose and began to dress.

  "About yesterday you mean?"

  "What else?"

  "Where would you like me to begin?" the general asked, helping Braedan slip his Ithlemere coat over his head.

  "Well for starters, what do the people think about the...incident at the tournament?"

  "Immer is in a state of shock, as you can well imagine," Malik replied. "That Salazar actually killed two guardsmen during the flaming Haelfest is still beyond their comprehension. In the history of these games, nothing like this has ever happened before."

  "Do they know he was..."

  "Possessed? No. No one suspects he was anything other than mad. Cilidon and the other Whesguard monarchs are wisely keeping the fact a closely guarded secret. If the people knew the truth, if they knew demons were loose in the damn capital of the Whesguard, well...let's just say it would be difficult to continue with the Haelfest."

  "Wouldn’t it play right into Kiathan's hands?" Jack said, strapping on his leg greaves. "Why hasn't he let rumor of what really happened leak to the city?"

  "For one thing," answered Malik, assisting him with his chest plate. "Kiathan was seen with Salazar only minutes before your match with him. People would wonder why he, as a Knight Protector of the Whesguard and Swordmaster of Aralon, did not suspect anything was amiss. He's already stated loudly he detected a madness in Jurden before your match. It was the reason, so he claims, he was so quick to come to the Disinherited Knight's aid."

  "So quick to come to my aid?" Jack snorted. "He didn't lift a finger until it was injured by Lukas' enchanted arrow. No. He had to silence the demon quickly when he saw it had no chance of completing its task."

  "A fact the people have overlooked in their shock," Malik nodded. "I'm afraid all they saw him do was save the honor of the Haelfest. Kiathan is quite the hero this morning."

  "I'll just bet he is," Jack muttered darkly. "Well...no matter. They'll learn the truth soon enough. If I can stay alive long enough to expose him."

  "Oh, you will get your chance," Malik assured him. "A'randraial and Ciliandrion are confident since no attempt was made on you last night, the Left Hand of Darkness fellow was Kiathan's last, best hope to dispose of you before you faced him in the tournament. You'll get your chance, no stopping it now."

  "Any other news?" Jack asked as he buckled Grimrorr around his waist.

  "There is something..." the general said slowly. "But I don't know exactly what to make of it. A young street urchin showed up at the Inn of Two Fountains late last night, babbling some nonsense about needing to tell the Duke of Thonbor of a one-eyed man and a group of Amarians encamped outside the city."

  "Judas Bloody Hell!" Jack shouted. "Why didn't anyone tell me? I've got to go find them!"

  "There isn't time," Malik said. "You've a match this morning in case you've forgotten. Besides, they're gone."

  "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

  "Either they rode away again this morning," the general explained, "or they have sneaked into the city without anyone seeing. Which I personally find hard to believe. Why? What's so important about these Amarians?"

  "The one-eyed man is Tereil Annen, Regent of Amar," Jack cried. "And those Amarians are the Galekindar!"

  "The Sons of Storm?" Malik asked incredulously. "But they've eight hundred years dead and dust."

  "They are not the original Sons of Storm," Jack replied. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing them again as well."

  "Again?" the general gasped softly.

  "Long story," Jack smiled. "I'll tell you all about when we have more time. Right now, I need you to send someone to find their successors. They haven't ridden off. I'm sure of it. Whatever your sources may report. They're here in Immer somewhere, or close by."

  "I'll put John Priar on it," Malik nodded. "He's the best scout in the Razorbacks. If they are within twenty leagues of the city, he'll find them."

  "Have him come see me before he leaves," Jack said, searching through his pack for pen and paper. "He'll need a letter of introduction."

  "Of course," Malik nodded, then asked hesitantly. "Demons? Galekindar? Ljmarn's Heir? What sort of adventure have I fallen into by letting you through my doors?"

  "The sort with a happy ending?" Jack said hopefully.

  "Those are certainly the best kind," the general agreed. "Unfortunately, it's been my painful experience they are also few and far between."

  With that ominous warning, Malik closed the door behind him and went off to summon his scout.

  "Have you heard my Lord?" Cyran asked, coming to his room a few minutes later. "Your Amarian friends have arrived!"

  "I know," Jack nodded. "Malik is sending one of his scouts to find them. I want you and Erlwin to go with him. Erlwin knows his way around Immer. He might be able to help."
/>   "What about Falan?"

  "Take him as well. Things are starting to get dicey. I don't want him left alone."

  "Very well," Cyran nodded, as John Priar arrived.

  Jack penned the mercenary scout a quick note for Tereil and wished him luck.

  "If they're anywhere in the city your grace, I'll find them," Priar assured him. "Amarians should stick out in Immer like a Razorback in Holy Temple."

  "By the way my Lord," Cyran said, stopping in the doorway as the two men were leaving. "You might be interested to know the judges declared your match with Salazar a forfeit," he grinned, jiggling the bulging pouch at his waist. "I'll just hold on to your share until this evening."

  "As long as you remember I have a share."

  "My Lord!" Cyran cried, offended, "Erlwin is the thief among the Lions. Not I."

  "Go," Jack sighed. "And take care of Falan!"

  "Like he was my own little brother," Cyran bowed.

  Jack strapped on Grimrorr and followed, finding Cassy waiting for him in the hallway.

  "Ready?" Borg asked.

  "I hope so," he replied, caressing Grimrorr's hilt for assurance.

  Eight swordsmen remained in the Competition of the Sword; Jack, Peul Rurik, whom he would face this morning, Cassaban and his opponent Tarc Macuna, The Shadow Warrior, Marcus Aedoms, Kyl Caracal, and of course Kiathan Ellgaer. By the time the sun set on Immer this day, only two would be left to vie for the title of Swordmaster of Aralon. In the Competition of the Bow, Lukas a'Maeridon and old Gustaf Mendelson were the clear favorites of the ten remaining bowmen. Julian Brin was almost certain to retain his title of Lancemaster, though the young Arrgenn Dunnahel had won the hearts of the spectators. Of the other jousters remaining, though they were all skilled, none were thought to be a serious threat to unhorse either Julian or Dunnahel before they faced each other in the lists.

  The crowd was subdued this morning as Jack and Cassaban walked onto the field of the coliseum. Many of them, perhaps nearly half of the fifty thousand, could be seen sporting black somewhere on their bodies in respect for the two Immer guardsmen slain by Jurden Salazar.

  "I've never seen a crowd so quiet," Cassy whispered, falling under the spell of their somber mood.