“My lord?”
Mazael turned, saw Adalar standing in the door. “Yes?
“Lord Richard has ridden up from the camp. He would like to speak with you on the ramparts,” said Adalar.
“Very well,” said Mazael. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
He snatched up his cloak and tossed it around his shoulders. The weather had turned unseasonably cold in the last week. It was a blessing. The colder air had kept the bodies from rotting until they had all been burned. Plague would have been the last thing the ravaged lands of Castle Cravenlock needed.
Mazael swept down the spiraling stairs of the King’s Tower, passing the spot where he had walked into Romaria. He had ordered her body interred in the castle’s crypt and sent a message through Sil Tarithyn to Lord Athaelin in Deepforest Keep. He doubted he would receive a response.
It had made him feel better, if only for a moment.
In the courtyard, Sir Nathan and Sir Gerald drilled the surviving Cravenlock armsmen. Nathan had sorted through them, keeping those he had deemed trustworthy, and sending away the rest. All told, Castle Cravenlock had lost half of its armsmen.
Master Cramton stood on the steps to the keep and bellowed orders. Mazael had made him the castle’s seneschal, and the former innkeeper had risen to the task, mobilizing the castle’s host of demoralized and frightened servants. Battle damage was repaired, corpses removed, and food provided for the many guests and soldiers. Bethy was now mistress of the kitchens. Mazael had not eaten so well since he had left Knightcastle.
He spotted Lord Richard on the northern wall, his crimson armor gleaming in the morning sunlight. His son Toraine stood at his side, a dark reflection in black armor, while Lucan remained apart, wrapped in his dark cloak. The rumors said Toraine had acquitted himself well in the battle, but they also said Lucan had called up hellfire and lightning, and used them to slaughter San-keth worshippers by the dozen.
Mazael climbed the stairs up to the rampart.
“Ah,” said Lord Richard. “Lord Mazael. Please, join us.”
“I believe I already have,” said Mazael.
“Indeed,” said Lord Richard. “Toraine, Lucan, leave. Lord Mazael and I have matters to discuss.”
Toraine grumbled and walked away. Lucan left without a word.
“My sons vex me, at times,” Lord Richard said. “Sometimes I fear to leave Swordgrim and the Grim Marches in Toraine’s hands when I die.” He looked out over the plains and the wreckage of battle.
“They don’t seem very fond of each other,” said Mazael.
Lord Richard almost smiled. “I have done much in my life, but perhaps my sons are my greatest failure. I should not have left them entirely to their mother’s care. She was a fool.”
Mazael thought of Lady Arissa and nodded.
“But the past is gone. To dwell upon it is folly,” said Lord Richard. “It is the future that must concern us now.” He paused. “I understand you have made Sir Gerald Roland your armsmaster.”
“That’s right,” said Mazael.
“Explain,” said Lord Richard.
Mazael shrugged. “Sir Nathan wouldn’t take the job. Claims he’s too old. I shouted at him until I turned hoarse, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Sir Nathan is a capable man, but he is old,” said Lord Richard. “He is right to insist that a younger man take up his duties. And your young Sir Gerald seems most skillful, from what I have observed. Yet there are certainly many qualified knights for the duty. Why have you picked a Roland?”
Mazael laughed. “Are you afraid that I’m going to ally with Lord Malden against you?”
“It is a possibility,” said Lord Richard.
“No,” said Mazael, “it is not. I am tired of war. I’ve chosen Sir Gerald for three reasons. First, as I have said, I will not continue my idiot brother’s war against you. Second, because of this, Lord Malden will not take up arms against you either. For all his flaws, Lord Malden loves his sons. So long as Gerald is my armsmaster, and I am not at war with you, he will not rise. Third, I plan to give my sister in marriage to Gerald.”
Lord Richard raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“Gerald always took pity on Rachel, even when I favored executing her,” said Mazael. “And he is more compassionate than I. They will go well together, I believe.”
“Perhaps,” said Lord Richard. He looked out over the Marches. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Take Lucan as my court wizard?” said Mazael.
Lord Richard did not look surprised. “My sons despise one another. For their sake, and for the sake of the land, they must be kept apart. Now, I know you planned to take Timothy deBlanc, as your court wizard...”
“I can have two,” said Mazael. “They seem to work together well enough. And Timothy has his hands full examining and destroying the items found in the San-keth temple. Lucan’s aid would be welcome.”
“I am most pleased with your progress in this,” said Lord Richard. “Twice now I have faced an uprising of a San-keth cult in Castle Cravenlock. I have no desire to do so a third time. Had I known there was such an extensive temple complex hidden here, I would have razed the castle and killed all the Cravenlocks.”
“I’m rather glad you didn’t,” said Mazael.
“My others vassals grow restless,” said Lord Richard. “I shall depart for Swordgrim by noon. I am certain your hands are capable of attending to matters here. Do not fail me in this.”
“I shall not,” said Mazael. Lord Richard nodded and left.
Mazael watched him go. He felt tired and sad, but not angry. The maddening rage had not surfaced since Mitor’s death and the Old Demon's defeat. The healing was still there, as were the speed and strength, but Mazael suspected that they had become part of him forever. He remembered what Silar had told him of Demonsouled who had conquered their darker half. Perhaps he had done so, but at cost of Romaria’s life. Were it not for her, he would have become as monstrous as Mattias.
“Thank you, Romaria,” whispered Mazael. His fingers brushed the holy symbol dangling from his belt. “And thank you.”
Grief hung on him for a moment as he thought of Othar and Romaria. He even felt sadness for his brother and his poor, cuckolded father. He sighed and clenched his fist. As Lord Richard had said, the past was gone.
He had work to do.
Mazael left the ramparts and walked back into his castle.
THE END
Thank you for reading DEMONSOULED. Turn the page for a sample chapter from Soul of Tyrants (https://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=911), the next book in the DEMONSOULED series. For immediate notification of new releases, you can sign up for my email newsletter here (https://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1854), or watch for news on my Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jonathan-Moeller/328773987230189).
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SOUL OF TYRANTS Bonus Chapter
Here is a sample chapter from Soul of Tyrants (https://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=911), the next book in the Demonsouled series.
Demonsouled Page 43