Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  The Lord of Nightmares, Zipzorag, which had on occasion spoken to him in secret summoning rituals over the years, was trying to take control of Fortress City for itself—by subterfuge. Why had he dreamed such a thing? Koss felt his dealings with Zipzorag put them on equal footing—through the Demon, his brother prolonged the lives of the Nobility, keeping them loyal, and Zipzorag received sacrifices at regular intervals.

  But if the dream was true, the Demon was no longer satisfied with the bargain. Koss groaned, rolling his large frame over in his vast bed, too disturbed to inhale more intoxicant.

  Koss was lying there, dazed, when two of his personal servants burst in his room with an inhalant that woke him. They held the strong mixture under his nose until Koss was ready to strangle them both with his bare hands.

  “Why have I been roused?” Koss demanded. “My dreams were of a sensitive nature. This had best be of the utmost importance or the parties responsible for awakening me will die!”

  The stewards who had brought Koss out of his deep sleep cringed in fear, but Supreme Captain Grus, who was also in the room, seemed steadfast and assured.

  Koss leveled his gaze at the Shaft Police leader, “Well, Grus?”

  “My King,” Grus began, “Your Brother, High Wizard Dimtreanos, was murdered this morning. He died defending the sarcophagus of Emperor Eshumé. And, Great King—Nightslayer is gone…stolen.”

  “WHAT?” Koss bellowed. His head still swam from the intoxicant, so he got out of his oversized bed and went to the cabinet of elixirs. Downing a drink to further awaken him, Koss tried to guess if there was a connection between his dream about Zipzorag and the disappearance of the Sword.

  Grus said, “Your youngest daughter, Princess Alaxia, reportedly saw the thief. He was no more than a stair-climber from the lowest floors, according to her. Initial search parties and research into this man’s background are already underway, Great King. A reception is scheduled for one half hour. All Knights and Nobles have been required to attend.”

  While consuming another draught to give him strength, Koss began to broil with a silent rage. He would go to the hastily-called reception in his throne room and wreak vengeance on those responsible for the blunders leading to the current emergency.

  “Heads will roll for this,” Koss said. “Grus, you are dismissed.”

  As the King’s attendants helped him dress, he felt a nagging fear. Could it be that Zipzorag planned all along to take Nightslayer and Fortress City? He tried not to worry about it, yet the dream had been very real.

  A half hour later, King Koss sat stiffly on the red throne of Fortress City, with his ceremonial weapon on his lap. He was ready to kill the first man who gave him cause. The Knights of the Screaming Heart had been assembled, and one had some information to relate. But Koss had told him to wait until the new High Wizard spoke.

  The new High Wizard said, “Great King, he holds the Sword of the Ancients and it is bonded to him. We can't curse him, we can't even track him.”

  “Are you telling your King,” Koss demanded, “that the one responsible for the murder of my Brother, the late High Wizard, can NOT be brought to justice with your magic?”

  “Yes, Great King, that is… err, actually what I am saying,” the new High Wizard declared hesitantly.

  “I remind you that this is not the FIRST time a thief has snuck into the Vault and handled MY property. I am the Great King, and it is up to me to determine to whom the Sword will go. I am shocked and in disbelief that my entire contingent of Royal Wizards can’t find the one who stole it. So, I ask you again: where is he who stole my Sword, and when can I have my Sword delivered here?”

  “It is as I said, Great King,” the new Wizard repeated cautiously. “We can’t at this time determine the exact nature of whom… and the nature of where…”

  King Koss climbed off the red throne and began walking toward the new High Wizard, dragging the two-handed ceremonial sword behind him. The new High Wizard began to back away, uncertain of the danger the King posed.

  The next moment, Koss ran forward, raising his sword over his head. Swiftly, the King brought down the edge of the weapon on the High Wizard’s shoulder, cleaving him nearly in two. The assembled nobles, many spattered with the man’s blood, were stunned.

  King Koss turned his back on the dead High Wizard, slowly dragging the sword, returning to his throne.

  Koss laid the blood-soaked ceremonial weapon across his knees once again, and yelled, “Those who fail me within the next few hours will DIE! We now shall have funerals for two High Wizards today; however, one will be handled with little fanfare! …Praetorians! Drag this man’s remains to the oubliette!”

  Two Praetorian Nightguards took the man’s remains away, leaving a long swath of blood across the throne room floor.

  “I want ACTION!” Great King Koss shouted at the ceiling shaking his fist. “A plan! My brother is DEAD! My daughter's LIFE has been threatened. And worst of all, the Sword of the Ancients that should have belonged to my future son-in-law is STOLEN! Now! Where is the Knight of the Screaming Heart who claimed to have knowledge of this day’s events?”

  A massive man in plated armor with an axe that dripped magical fire stepped forward.

  “Report!” demanded the King. “You are the lead Knight of the Endless Flame Order, yes? What have you gleaned thus far from the rebels?”

  “Oh, Great King, much has already been determined,” began the Knight of the Endless Flame. “I took it upon myself to question High Priest Averdan and Bishop Auxi. They have all but admitted trying to, '…break the evil spell the City has been under.' They claim to have '…upset the current course of darkness the city is verging on…'“

  There were gasps of shock and growls of anger from the various Knights and their families.

  “That's it!” said Koss. “I want the Council of Elder Knights to draw up an edict immediately to BAN the cult of Saint Morth from the City, DESTROY all holy books and items of the religion, and ARREST anyone caught practicing its rights.”

  Koss saw nods of agreement from the Noble assembly.

  “If I may, Great King,” interrupted the Supreme Captain Grus of the Shaft Police, “It was my men, acting on my instincts, who made the arrests of the High Priest and the Bishop of Morth before they could go into hiding... I had felt for some time that something was amiss and was ready to close the trap at a moment’s notice. Other members in the cult of Morth are awaiting processing in the dungeons.”

  King Koss was dumbstruck. “There was some sort of plot here? An organized rebellion?”

  Supreme Captain Grus continued, “Great King, I received little interest from the Council of Elder Knights until this afternoon, so I was taking a big gamble... For, ‘this rebellion’ reached into the upper echelons of the ‘cult’ of Morth. And apparently, it goes even higher, but I have yet to determine…”

  “Supreme Captain Grus of the Flail,” said the Great King, “…at least SOMEBODY knows what has been going on in my City! You will be rewarded for your good service in the name of security. Have you arrested all the major parties in the rebellion?”

  “Great King,” began Supreme Captain Grus, “all those active in the rebellion are under arrest, excepting one ‘Brother Grumrig,’ and the Sisters of Moth from the lower City Temple. This Grumrig took the women of the cult and escaped into the lower City’s environs.”

  “Then be gone from our presence until they have been captured!” King Koss declared.

  “If I may, my King,” Grus said cautiously, “there is still quite a lot of support for the cult of Morth on the lower floors of the City. I need permission to quell any kind of… err… revolt.”

  “This thief was a stair-climber, was he not? You do whatever it takes, Grus. Call up all members of the City Watch, Constables, and Shaft Police, if you must! Scatter the rabble to the four directions!” Koss said angrily. “You have your orders, GO!”

  “As you say, Great King!” Grus bowed and turned on his heels, lea
ving the assembly hall through the great doors.

  King Koss looked again at the Knight of the Endless Flame, and said, “Tell us what else you discovered by questioning the leaders of the cult of Morth.”

  The Endless Flame Knight smiled. He declared boldly, “Great King, my scribe has a list of individual actions taken by Bishop Auxi, and a list of similar steps taken by Archbishop Averdan meant to foster events leading to the current emergency, from the restarting of the sea chamber’s pressurelift, to prayers in the name of the thief in question.”

  “Did Auxi and Averdan reveal the thief’s name?” Koss asked.

  “His name, Great King, is, *ahem* ‘Bladeborn…’ A gladiator’s name, it seems. There is word about an arena deathmatch he participated in at ten-to-one odds some years ago. Fortunes were made from it… Some still talk of it.”

  Koss said thoughtfully, “A gladiator, Ehh…? I want the Constables and the Battlemaster to immediately lock down all competitive metal weapons and armor.”

  The Endless Flame Knight shifted uneasily foot-to-foot and said, “Great King, I am sure you realize the people of the lower City usually celebrate today’s holiday with much-anticipated arena contests. To deny them of this may incite further unrest…”

  “Do you think their opinion matters, considering what has happened here?” Koss asked. “All games are cancelled until further notice.”

  “Great King, I will inform the Battlemaster of the change in plans. I will see to it the practice weapons and the ones in the hands of the gladiators are tracked down and turned in. I…can lead a group of Knights to round them up, although it will take some time.”

  “Do it! Until this former gladiator is caught, those in the arena can hit each other with roots and sticks!”

  “Yes, Great King,” the Endless Flame Knight said. “Now, Great King, with your permission, I would like to bring Bishop Auxi of the Morth cult into the assembly hall so you can look the traitor in the eye before we continue with interrogation.”

  “I approve,” Koss declared. “Bring the traitorous wart-dog forth!”

  The Endless Flame Knight left the center of the room for a few moments via one of the main doors. Koss leaned forward on the red throne. From behind the half-open doors came a mournful moan and the sound of rattling chains.

  The doors opened fully. Bishop Auxi, his white frock in tatters and coated in blood, was pushed into the throne room. Auxi’s head and hands were in thick, chain-bedecked stocks. He was forced to his knees in the center of the room, flanked by two Praetorians and a torturer, who grabbed him by the hair to lift his head up, so that King Koss could see his face.

  “Repent now, Koss,” Auxi managed to say.

  “Repent?” the King exclaimed. “Foolish old man. Do you know what trouble you have caused? Death is too good for you!””

  King Koss stepped up to Auxi, dragging the sharp ceremonial sword. Auxi had a cheek that as yet had not been bloodied. Koss took the ceremonial sword’s edge and passed it along the flesh of that cheek, cutting deeply into it.

  Auxi cried out in pain, jerking his head back away from the sword’s edge, but the muscular torturer gripped the Bishop’s hair so tightly there was little he could do. The Bishop, a man of seventy years, passed into unconsciousness.

  Unexpectedly, a person from Koss’s own family made a high-pitched plea for leniency.

  “Stop it, Father!” Alaxia said. “Please!”

  Koss turned quickly, looking angrily at his youngest daughter, then turned back to the Knight of the Endless Flame. “Take this weakling priest back to his cells, and make sure he dies…slowly.”

  “As you say, Great King!” The Endless Flame Knight replied.

  While Auxi was being dragged out of the throne room, Koss returned to the red throne. All eyes were on Alaxia, a known supporter of Saint Morth.

  Alaxia said, “Father, it wasn't meant to be like this! We were trying to save the City! You and our family have been bewitched! I know it! You can't be this evil, you can't! Burning books and torturing clerics! Bending knee to—that thing!” She indicated the symbol of the Lord of Nightmares that was hanging from an arm of the red throne. The symbol, a bizarre conflagration of hair, skin and bone, stank of evil. It was something Dimtreanos had come up with after a vision; even Koss disliked the thing.

  Alaxia went on, “Your Demon was merely a tool to get the Sword free! Well, the deed is done! Without the help of that infernal power! The Sword is out of the grip of Eshumé! Give up on the Demon, now, or your soul is sure to be condemned!”

  “Is that really how you feel?” King Koss said sarcastically, looking at his daughter. He was controlling his anger now. He had to give a little…this was his daughter that the Bishop and High Priest had kept in a corrupting embrace.

  Koss was silent for a moment, allowing Alaxia time to contemplate what she was saying. When he finally arose, he hoped his daughter would change her treasonous tone out of a sense of self-preservation.

  Koss walked slowly to the throne, taking the symbol of the Demon in one hand and dragging the ceremonial sword with the other. “You think I am bewitched? That I am evil...? That your Uncle deserved to die so you could get married to the Swordwielder?”

  Alaxia shivered but stood her ground.

  Koss said: “I had great plans for you and your offspring, little one! I even liked you, although your brothers and sisters have always been more respectful. But this! THIS is how you repay us, your Great King, your Father? With plots and connivances? Come now, speak up! What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Alaxia defended herself, “While you slumbered, a spell has come over you! Each year you awaken and drink another Longevity Potion, passing laws that are disasters and condemning innocent people to death. Say you don’t truly believe in it. Please!”

  “I will give you a chance to redeem yourself, daughter,” King Koss said. “Swear off Morth now. Kiss this!” Koss dangled the symbol of the Demon before Alaxia’s face. “You are alone in the room. NO ONE believes as you do. Look about you! See the Knights of the Screaming Heart, the High Praetorians, the Royal Mages, and all our servants. NOT ONE of them is a follower of the ‘Saint’ Morth. None of them cares a whit for ‘Heaven’ in the afterlife, where one reward is much like another. Why do you cling to this?”

  “I shall never feel as you do, father,” she said, closing her eyes in prayer.

  Koss turned nearly red with anger, “The only reason I shall not kill you now is that information may yet be torn from your hide!” Turning his back on her, he said, “You are disowned! Nightguards! Throw her into High Tower!”

  “Say it isn't your true belief, Father! Say it!” Alaxia called, as she was taken out of the assembly hall.

  To cut the tension he sensed was spreading among the Nobles and his other relations, Great King Koss said, “So…she wished that the Sword be ‘freed?’ It seems she has gone to great lengths to find a husband!”

  The assembly laughed quietly and some applauded the jocularity on the part of their King. Koss hung the Demonic fetish back on the arm of the red throne and sat back.

  Koss thought, “Publicly accused by my own daughter! I will have to keep a closer watch on the Nobility! Dimtreanos is dead, and rebellion is in the air!”

  Great King Koss ended the audience by giving instruction to the Royal Mages and the Knights of the Screaming Heart. They were to find the thief at all costs…

  Koss thought again about his dream. It even briefly crossed his mind that his daughter’s warning might be correct.

  Chapter 13: Rebellion

  Bladeborn ran to his hideout in the rooms of the laughing skull. He quickly re-laced the scabbard so it could hold Nightslayer, then grabbed a small pack and filled it with food and two canteens of water. He left the coin he had saved, but took all his semi-precious gems, planning to rush to the front gate and use his most powerful spell of opening there.

  Bladeborn didn’t know if his opening spell would work but he thought that the
Sword he carried could possibly help. At the time, he could think of no other plan. Moving by himself, he would be able to escape before they could get anyone to the gate. He was ready to go when he heard feet on the staircase leading up to his apartment.

  “Nightslayer do you hear that? They are here already!” Bladeborn spoke in a hurried whisper.

  ~~Do not fear, Bladeborn. These people seek your help. They are not enemies~~

  “Bladeborn?” Brother Grumrig called, unsure.

  “Oh, no! It's you!” Bladeborn said. He saw Grumrig, holding an illegal steel bat. Blood was running down the Priest’s face from under the leather helmet he wore, and his robe was ripped. He was with five Sisters of Morth and each of them had a look of mortal fear in their eyes.

  “Some place you have here, Bladeborn!” Grumrig said, looking about.

  “I was just leaving,” Bladeborn said and he tried to push his way past them down the stairs.

  “Wait, we need a plan!” Brother Grumrig exclaimed.

  “If by a plan, you mean something that would delay my running to the front gate, forget it. I'm getting out of Fortress City for good, and I’m going alone. Grumrig, you and the sisters should leave here, before they find me with their spells and soldiers.”

  Brother Grumrig countered. “High Priest Averdan has been arrested and is being tortured! Bishop Auxi may already be dead! The City is in Chaos! Members of the Shaft Police are destroying the most sacred artifacts of Saint Morth, and Princess Alaxia is said to be in the high tower, likely facing a death sentence!”

  “Really?” Bladeborn said. “And just what can I do? I know nothing of those you mentioned,” he said, although he felt remorseful about the one named Alaxia being left to face what would doubtless be a grim fate. “Grumrig, you have the wrong man. I am despised and reviled in this City. My only choice is to flee as soon as possible.”