A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods

by Daniel Hylton

  On the far side of that foyer, an arched entrance opened into the great hall of the prince of Merkland. Teset led them across the foyer at once and into the great hall.

  The hall was broad and long, with a raised dais at the far end upon which sat a large, intricately carved wooden throne that was, at the moment, bereft of an occupant. On either side, the high walls were cut with many windows, through which the light of morning entered and brightened all corners of the broad space.

  Except for a single row of guards upon either side of the hall, the great wide room was empty of people. Teset led them to the front, to within a few paces of the throne, where he turned and held out his hand toward them.

  “Wait here, if you will,” he said, and then he went around to the left of the dais and through a door at the back of the hall. After but a moment, he reappeared and mounted the dais to go and stand behind the throne to the right. He did not speak to them again but motioned for the guards to step closer.

  The man that appeared through that door at the back of the hall a moment later drew their gaze at once. Dressed in rich dark clothing that was overlain with flowing robes of deepest purple, the man was tall and well-formed, with a hawkish face, dark eyes, a prominent nose, and a short, trimmed beard that was black, shot through with gray. His black hair was pulled into a long braid that hung down his back.

  He stepped up onto the dais and strode forward and then halted and gazed down upon them. He did not sit on the throne.

  He looked them over one by one without speaking and then his gaze halted upon Brenyn.

  “You are Brenyn, the darking slayer,” he said. “Even without the weapons, I would see it in you.”

  Prince Taumus’ voice, though moderately pitched and quiet in delivery, was one that bore the tenor of command, as of a man grown used to being obeyed and never challenged.

  In response, Brenyn simply inclined his head.

  Taumus’ gaze roved over the shield that Brenyn bore on his left arm and the hilt of the sword that rose above his right shoulder. A slight smile touched the corners of the prince’s mouth.

  “Do you mean to attempt to bring harm here?”

  Brenyn shook his head. “I do not, Your Highness.”

  Taumus’ gaze flicked to the side and swept deliberately over Brenyn’s companions and then came back. “Would you defend me should one of these men attempt to take my life?” He asked.

  Brenyn frowned. “They would not do so, Your Highness, nor would I allow such an unprovoked action.”

  The smile faded away then and a small frown wrinkled the prince’s forehead. “Odd that I would so readily believe you with no offering of proof,” he said, “and yet I do.”

  Silence fell while he and Brenyn contemplated each other.

  Then, abruptly, the prince raised his voice and spoke to the rows of guards that stood along either side. “Leave us.”

  At this, Teset audibly gasped and jerked his head around to stare at his lord. Taumus turned his cold gaze upon his minister. “You may stay or go as well, Alin, as you choose.”

  Teset swallowed and inclined his head. “I would stay, if it please you, my lord, but –”

  Taumus smiled thinly, cutting him off. “Stay, then, but keep silent.”

  He turned back and watched Brenyn as the guards tramped out of the hall. Indicating Murlet, Beran, and Kristo with one hand, he asked, “Do you trust these men?”

  Brenyn nodded. “I do, Your Highness.”

  “There are very few men that may be trusted in this world, Brenyn,” Taumus stated. “Indeed, there are times when I think that I trust none.”

  Brenyn nodded his head in tacit agreement. “Even so, Your Highness, I trust these men with my life – and have done so upon occasion. Trust is not lightly earned or given, it is true, but when it is truly gained, it bears a value that is more than gold or silver.”

  “But can it ever be truly gained?” The prince wondered.

  “If not, then the world is lost to us beyond remedy,” Brenyn answered.

  Taumus turned his head and looked down upon the great wooden throne to his left. “When one sits upon the throne of a rich and broad land, Brenyn,” he said, “there are many that desire that which he possesses.” He looked back. “And the race of darkings think that all thrones upon this world, ultimately, belong to them.” His thin smile returned. “So, you see, my young friend, unmitigated trust is a thing that no prince may lightly indulge.”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Brenyn replied. “For I cannot relate to concerns such as those that trouble you. The only thing of great value that I ever possessed was taken from me years ago by a darking lord and is lost to me. All that remains to me is life – and the hope of vengeance.”

  “You have encountered a red darking?” The prince asked.

  “I have,” Brenyn replied. “The darking lord and its servant came to my homeland and took something most precious to me.”

  At this, Prince Taumus’ dark eyes narrowed, and he studied Brenyn in silence for a long moment. Then, he turned to the side and raised his hand, indicating the door at the back. “Come, let us go and sit, that we may talk in comfort.”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, but – all of us?” Beran asked.

  “All of you,” Taumus answered. He moved toward the back of the hall, prompting Teset to quickly move ahead of him to swing wide the door that led out of the hall and into the chamber that lay beyond.

  The room that lay beyond consisted of a chamber that was obviously used for the prince’s private sitting quarters. There was a highly polished wooden table with eight chairs in the middle and couches and divans situated along the walls. Rich draperies hung at two large windows on the left side of the opulent space.

  There was a woman there, lounging upon a divan at the right side of the room, who stood at once when Taumus and his guests entered. She was tall and slender, and exquisitely beautiful, with long dark hair, perfect features, and small, tapered hands and feet. Her gaze went immediately to the prince, ignoring everyone else that came into the room, and there was an intensity in her gaze as she looked at him that Brenyn saw and recognized.

  His own gaze, he thought, had been very like that when he had looked at Emi each and every time he saw her face.

  Whatever else was true or untrue in the world that Prince Taumus inhabited, his consort – princess, wife, or whatever the nature of her relationship to him – suited him.

  Taumus smiled at her, and this smile was neither thin nor cold, and it bore no hint of imperious command. “See that wine is brought for our guests, will you, Alayna?”

  “At once,” she replied, and she turned away toward the right side of the room and went from sight through another door.

  Taumus indicated the chairs that lined the table. “Please,” he told them, “sit.”

  Alayna returned a few minutes later, nodded to Taumus and then seated herself once more upon the divan. Taumus sat at the end of the table while Brenyn sat to his right and Murlet sat beyond him. Beran and Kristo sat on the opposite side though neither took the chair immediately next to the prince. Teset stood by the door.

  Brenyn set down his shield and he, Murlet, and Beran fixed their attention upon Prince Taumus while Kristo looked around at the opulence of the room with widened eyes.

  Taumus waited until a servant brought wine and glasses and poured a portion for each of them; then he turned to Brenyn. “What did the red darking take from you, Brenyn, will you say?”

  Brenyn glanced over at the woman, Alayna, seated behind Taumus. Noticing his glance, she returned his gaze for a moment with her marvelous eyes devoid of expression and then returned her attention to the prince.

  Brenyn looked back at Taumus. “The darking took from me the woman that I loved,” he replied.

  The prince’s gaze narrowed. “You could not destroy him – or prevent him?”

  Brenyn shook his head. “I did not know until later that he had taken her,” he explained. “As to whether I c
ould have slain a darking lord – I do not know, for it was not attempted.”

  “Tell me, I beg you, of the darking that you did slay,” Taumus suggested. Then abruptly the prince stiffened and looked at Teset, standing by the door. “Bring the gold,” he said.

  Teset produced a small leather bag from a cabinet off to the side and brought it to the prince, setting it before him on the table.

  Taumus slid it toward Brenyn. “The gold that I promised, Brenyn. You may count it if you like.”

  Brenyn slid the pouch away from him, toward Murlet, while he shook his head. “There is no need, Your Highness.”

  The prince’s sharp eyes narrowed at Murlet and he frowned at Brenyn. “The gold was promised to you, Brenyn, and not to your companions,” he stated pointedly.

  “I understand, Your Highness,” Brenyn answered, “and the captain knows this as well. But I have little need of it. My friends will make better use of this gold and their need is greater.”

  Taumus gave no response to this but his intense gaze grew sharp with interest as he studied Brenyn. After a moment in which no one spoke, he said, “As you wish. Pray, tell me of the darking.”

  Brenyn then related how he had sensed the darking coming along the road east of Inverlin and how when the column separated and left the pavement, exposing the approach of the foul creature, he had been filled with a sudden need to confront it.

  “Were you frightened?” Asked Taumus.

  “I was not,” Brenyn replied. “Rather, I was filled with rage, and found that I could not give way, so I drew my sword, raised my shield and went forward to face it.”

  “What happened then?” The prince asked. “How was the creature slain?”

  Brenyn shrugged, remembering. “It issued forth its power, and I protected myself with the shield. For one moment, I thought to be overwhelmed, but then something awakened in me, there was a great brightness, the metal of the shield grew heated in my hands, and the darking’s power went away. The black vapor that it had sent forth returned upon the creature and consumed it.”

  Taumus’ gaze narrowed. “But how was this done? – how did you cause this to occur?”

  Brenyn shook his head. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but I know not.” He looked down upon the shield, resting against the leg of the table while his hand indicated the hilt of his sword. “My mother crafted these weapons for my father before I was born. She was a creature of magic – a sorceress, perhaps – and she imbued these things with her power.”

  He looked up, meeting the eyes of the prince. “I know not how the power that is in these things is summoned, only that when my life is threatened, or the lives of my friends, it comes.”

  Taumus looked back at him for a long moment, his dark eyes sharp and narrowed, while silence fell in the room.

  Then, abruptly, Taumus stood and turned his back upon him and the others and strode away for a few paces.

  There, the prince halted, standing still, motionless, while the silence in the room lengthened and thickened.

  32.

  Brenyn stared at the prince’s back, wondering.

  No one spoke.

  Alayna sat upright, watching Taumus, and made to rise and go to him but then thought better of it and sat back, her gaze yet fixed upon him.

  After several minutes, Taumus turned around and looked at Brenyn. “Your mother’s magic must be powerful indeed,” he stated softly. “For no darking has ever been slain by man – or indeed, by anyone.” He continued without waiting for a reply. “I have known a sorcerer or two in my time, and neither could destroy a darking – neither possessed such power.”

  He moved one step nearer, still watching Brenyn closely. “I confess that I would doubt your tale, Brenyn, except that I know for a truth that the darking was indeed slain upon the road to Inverlin. But it was not mere sorcery that slew that creature, but something greater, for no sorcery that I have witnessed will destroy a darking – unless that of your mother was something more – a magic unseen in the world before now.”

  Brenyn watched him without responding.

  The prince looked around, taking in the room in which he stood. “In truth,” he said, “one of the sorcerers that I have known was the servant of him that occupied this hall before me. And that sorcerer, although he could kill and maim and terrify, would not stand for an instant before the potency of a darking. Indeed, there are those who think that the powers of sorcery are lent unto men by the darkings themselves.”

  He went quiet again for a moment and stepped closer, still watching Brenyn. A frown spread over his hawk-like features. “I am exceedingly puzzled by this,” he stated.

  Brenyn waited, meeting the prince’s intense gaze without speaking.

  “I will ask you a thing, Brenyn, if you will answer,” the prince said then.

  Brenyn nodded. “I will answer, if I can.”

  “I told you,” Taumus said, “that I could see in you when you stood before my throne – though I had never looked upon you before that moment – that you were the one that slew the darking. There is something different about you, Brenyn, something that is unlike me, or the captain there, or indeed any other man.” Here the prince briefly glanced at Murlet. “Am I mistaken, captain, or do you see it as well?’

  Murlet glanced at Brenyn and then nodded. “I see it, Your Highness – indeed, I saw it when first I met him.”

  Taumus fixed Brenyn with his predator eyes. “This is that which I would ask you, Brenyn – are you certain that the power is posited in those creations of your mother, and not in you?”

  Brenyn started and made to reply, but the prince held up his hand, preventing him. Taumus stepped closer. “Tell me,” he said, “Which is more likely? – that the potency that was bequeathed by your mother was passed into these items of iron and steel, or into flesh and blood and bone? – that of her son.”

  Brenyn frowned. “But if that were true,” he protested, “then why? – as I have asked of Captain Murlet – would I not know how to summon this power, and make it come alive at my command?”

  “And have you tried?” Taumus asked him.

  “I have,” Brenyn admitted, shrugging, “but without success.”

  The prince smiled his thin smile. “I confess to astonishment, Brenyn, at the attitude that you convey upon this matter. Why do you suppose that I paid two hundred gold to confer with a member of a mercenary band? Indeed, I would have paid a thousand to bring you here today – and I would empty my treasury and give it to you could you but teach me how to slay darkings.” He came near to the table and placed his hands upon the back of his chair. “A darking was slain, Brenyn – to the amazement of the world. It is a thing that is spoken of with awe throughout all of the nearby lands, and no doubt is spreading further as we speak – and you did it.”

  At this, Brenyn drew in a deep breath, expelling it slowly as he shook his head in frustration. “But I do not know how I did it.”

  “It is the greatest thing in the world, of utmost importance,” Taumus answered harshly, “that you discover how it was done.”

  Once more the prince turned his back and stalked away. This time, when he came to where he had stood before, he pivoted and gazed at them all for a moment. “I am known by my enemies – and even those that name themselves friends – as a ruthless man,” he said. “I am, some would claim, an illegitimate prince of this land, a usurper.” He laughed without mirth. “Yet him that I slew before the walls of this palace bore not one whit more legitimacy, for he caused the death of the one that ruled before him.”

  “In truth,” he went on, “the last prince of true blood that sat upon that throne out in the great hall was slain ages ago, a hundred years or more, when the darkings came and he would not submit.”

  He lifted his gaze and stared out through the walls, as if he could see something that lay beyond. “I was born in this land,” he said, “in the west, upon the banks of the River Payne, to a merchant and his wife. They were slain when I was very
young, when the armies of Illnius came through our village and killed with abandon – at the behest of the darkings. For reasons unknown, they decided not to slay a mere child of one year.” He paused and looked down at the floor and spoke softly. “And that is a decision that I will soon give them cause to regret.”

  He shook his head then, as if to rid his mind of musings that bore no relevance to the moment and looked at Brenyn once more. “I am known as a ruthless man,” he repeated, “but I love this land, and I care for its people.” His eyes darkened with anger and his hands, hanging by his sides, closed and made fists. “The world of humans is in ruin, wrought by wicked creatures whose origins are unknown, whose purposes are obscure, who engender war among all lands and delight in the misery it causes.”

  Taumus shook his head once more, suppressed fury making his dark eyes glint. “It ought not to be thus. Men ought to decide their own destinies, and not forced to submit to the deadly whims of evil creatures, however potent their dark powers.”

  He sighed. “Men will kill and destroy and despoil the earth on their own, it is true, but there are also those that would dwell at peace with their neighbors, who would rather engage in commerce than in war. The darkings seem intent upon creating a world of continuous misery, of unending death and destruction.”

  He bent his fierce gaze upon Brenyn. “Could you but learn the secret to whatever power you employed against the darking, Brenyn, you might – upon your own – alter the course of the world and return control of this earth to humanity. You might send those fiends back into the bottomless pit – or force them to flee unto the stars, back to whatever hell produced them. It would be a greater, finer destiny than any man has known in the history of the world.”

  He came near once more. “Hear me now,” he said. “I will do what I must to survive. I will make war upon my neighbors if I must and defend my people against them in turn. Indeed, if I must, I will even submit to the influence of the darkings, if by chance I might spare even a portion of my people from the sword.”