by John Migacz
CHAPTER 26
Saladar stood outside the Baron’s tent, fear growing in his belly. The purple tent had become a symbol of terror for him. Anxiety gnawed Saladar every time he neared the Baron yet the chest of gold called to him. He remembered the sight of the gleaming coins in the war chest. Better stop thinking about it! He didn’t believe Yorburg could read minds, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
After yesterday’s attack, he thought at the very least the Baron would relieve him of his command. At the most – well, he had seen the hole in the armor of the knight assassin. After the attack, Saladar had rushed to the Baron’s tent expecting to find the Baron dead. Instead he found him calmly standing with arms crossed. Saladar had blustered about the shortcomings of the mercenary sentries, how it was not his fault, how guards would ring the tent, shoulder to shoulder, twenty-four hours a day – anything to avoid the Baron’s wrath. To his surprise, the Baron was indifferent to the attack on his person. He didn’t even want any guards posted, claiming a need for privacy. He just wanted his tent erected, repaired and the dead body removed.
A gust of wind billowing the tent shook Saladar from his reverie. He inhaled sharply and entered. The smell of decay wafting to his nostrils caused him to halt close to the entrance. “You sent for me, your Lordship?”
The Baron was seated facing the door, a map rolled up on his lap. “Saladar, how is our schedule proceeding?”
“Very well, Sir. The rest of the naphtha has arrived and the catapults and bridge will be in place this morning. We can begin firing the castle this afternoon. By evening it should all be over.”
“Excellent. This is sooner than expected.” The Baron unrolled his map and nodded. “Perhaps I have been a bit harsh with you lately. Why don’t you take a handful of gold with you as a reward for a job well done. I know how much you thirst for it.” The Baron gestured toward the chest at the back of the tent. “We may need to work together in the future.”
Saladar broke into a sweat. Was this a trick? Walking to the chest, he licked his thick lips, knowing he couldn’t leave the tent without seeing the gold again. He kept one eye on the Baron, who seemed to have forgotten his presence. Opening the lid, all his thoughts vanished. Lust filled him, stronger than when he took a woman. He reached into the chest, longing for the feel of the cool metal on his fingers. The glittering gold mesmerized him so thoroughly the sound of galloping luses didn’t enter his awareness.
Balthus and Adrianna rode full tilt toward the Baron’s tent, each swinging a small grappling hook secured to their luse’s pommel. Riding swiftly side by side, they split and rode on each side of the purple tent like water flowing around a rock. Balthus glanced at the few souls loitering near the area. He hoped one of them was Dieya in his disguise or this would look awfully silly and probably get them killed.
Tossed simultaneously, the grapnels arced through the air and caught the tent roof. The luses never slowed and the hooks yanked the purple canvas backwards, exposing the inside. Balthus had a quick view of the Baron seated in a chair and someone else tangled in the cloth near the rear of the tent. His job done, Balthus slowed, cut his hook and turned to see if they should help or flee. Adrianna rode to his side.
Now it would be up to Dieya.
The Baron of Yorburg stood and looked at Balthus. He didn’t notice the skinny mercenary a little over a hundred feet away from what had been the entrance to the tent. The shape of the mercenary wavered, blurred and suddenly became Dieya, hood thrown back and long blond hair streaming backwards. With his black cloak billowing behind him like some gigantic bird of prey, he looked like an avenging wraith. Dieya pointed his staff at the Baron and a humming stream of blue light flashed from the tip, enveloping the Barons’ body.
With a cry of rage, the Baron turned, then staggered. He tried to raise a palm, fighting the effects of the blue beam, but Dieya advanced with purposeful strides, hammering him with the blue light. Dieya’s face was a hard mask of concentration, determination and anger.
The Baron began to wither.
Dismounting, Balthus and Adrianna drew their swords and approached the tent. Dieya was less than ten feet from the Baron, who had fallen to his knees. Balthus and Adrianna came closer and Dieya held up a warning hand.
“Stop!” he cried, over the menacing hum. “I must finish this!”
The blue beam’s humming grew more intense as did the look on Dieya’s face. The Baron’s flesh burned away and he sagged to the ground, leaving only bones. As he fell, Adrianna saw light glint off the Baron’s skull as if it were made of metal.
“Dieya, I think he’s dead,” said Balthus.
“Not yet, but soon,” said Dieya, moving closer.
The skull dissolved to reveal a strange, many-angled box in its center. Dieya focused his beam on the box until it shattered with a sound like breaking crystal. A red, glowing ball lay revealed at its heart. Something about the ball made Balthus’ skin crawl. The sight of the pulsating horror drove Adrianna to Balthus’ side. As white lightning flashed around the ball, its red glow faded and it became a black cinder.
The light from Dieya’s staff ended and the humming abruptly ceased.
The sudden silence had Balthus tugging on his ear.
Dieya walked to the black cinder and crushed it under his boot heel. “Stay off my world, foul creature!”
With an effort, Balthus pulled his attention from what was left of the Baron and noticed the crowd drawing near the tent. “Dieya the Sorcerer has killed the Baron!” he yelled, waving his sword. “Run! Run! He will kill us all!” Dropping his sword and screaming horribly, he clutched his chest then fell to his knees.
Dieya, following up on Balthus’ cue, pointed his staff and hurled blue lightning at the ground in front of the crowd. Where the lightning struck, a fiery explosion followed. The crowd panicked and ran.
“Dieya,” said Balthus, heaving himself up quickly. “Can you reach the wagons across the encampment?”
Dieya smiled and nodded. He aimed his staff at the naphtha-filled wagons and quickly sent a blue streak into the center one. The resulting explosion put the rest of the camp into a rout. The giant ball of flame expanded outward, destroying everything in its path then funneled upward sending an enormous cloud of smoke into the air. Mercenaries ran pell-mell, grabbing at panicked luses.
“Well, I guess that put the fear of God into them – or gods anyway,” said Balthus. Grinning, he walked to Dieya and clasped the man in black’s right shoulder. Adrianna joined them and they watched the mercenary horde stream away from the castle into the countryside.
“A good morning’s work, Dieya,” said Adrianna.
“Look!” interrupted Balthus, pointing. “There goes Oldwick! Dieya, put one of your fire bolts into that huge character on the large luse.”
“Why? He’s leaving. He’s no longer a threat,” said Dieya.
Glancing down, Balthus muttered under his breath, “Not a threat to you, maybe.” He looked again at Dieya’s face. “No, really, you should have heard what he said about your mother. You should blast him for that!” He nodded vigorously, trying to entice Dieya into action.
Dieya’s gaze never left the milling mercenaries. “I don’t know why he would have said that. I never had a mother.”
Balthus and Adrianna exchanged a puzzled glance behind Dieya’s back, then Balthus shrugged. “Well friends,” said Balthus. “Lotho owes us a large amount of wine for this little favor. I say we go and collect.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” said Dieya, inhaling deeply. “The destruction of a Krill is always cause for celebration.”
“Speaking of celebration…” Balthus motioned toward the castle.
The drawbridge was down and a cheering mob poured forth, forming a path on either side of the road, applauding the trio. A squadron of mounted knights galloped through the gates for a sweep at the remaining mercenaries.
Ba
lthus placed his arm around Dieya’s shoulders and gestured to the crowd. “Ah, this is how I’m usually greeted when entering Castle Lothogorn.”
Adrianna laced her arm through Dieya’s and they walked toward the castle. “He will be insufferable for the whole day,” she said.
“Only the whole day?” said Dieya. “I should think the entire week.”
“Hey!” cried Balthus.
“You don’t know Balthus very well, yet,” said Adrianna. “He will distract himself with something else by nightfall.”
“You two have once again shown no ability to recognize true talent when you see it,” said Balthus. He instructed them the entire way back.