A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  The troll lumbered toward Kaescis, swinging its massive six-fingered hand.

  Kaescis lunged, poised to strike. He sliced his gigantic sword through that sweeping hand, severing it halfway through the palm. Wonderful reach! The troll wailed, but still struck Kaescis, tossing him backward.

  Recovering from the blow, Kaescis rolled onto his feet, still clutching his magically composed weapon. Kaescis heard his name shouted from within the trees, but he ignored the call. He had a beast to slay.

  Kaescis bolted forward, and the troll came at him again, swinging its maimed hand. He slid beneath the arm, dashing straight for the creature’s knee. The troll tried to back away, but it only took one step before Kaescis reached its leg. He leapt, slicing his black sword down the troll’s knee.

  The troll wailed and lost its footing. Kaescis backed up, careful to not be crushed by the behemoth.

  Soon, Laeyit rode into the clearing and leapt from her horse. Her steed was still enthralled, and she forced the horse back to Kaescis’s and Bratan’s horses. Laeyit regained her footing with ease.

  “You idiot,” Laeyit chided him, reaching for the empty sheath upon her back. “Why did you awake a troll?”

  “Blame Bratan for not holding on to his horse,” Kaescis said, watching the troll stagger backward. The creature wobbled.

  “I heard that!” Bratan’s voice carried through the trees.

  Laeyit murmured as transmutative particles gathered within her sheath, forming a single-sided straight sword: a haviklur. That type of sword was used mostly for close range. The haviklur’s blade length was between that of a short-sword and a traditional blade. Haviklurs also lacked guards.

  Laeyit drew the weapon and the blade burst with shimmering purple light—disintegrating magic. “I’ll flank its right,” she said, bolting toward the troll. Kaescis went the other way.

  They evaded clumsy swings and struck the troll’s legs. Their blows were swift and precise, striking at the same time.

  The troll screamed and fell backward, tumbling off the ledge. It landed in front of its cave.

  Kaescis and Laeyit stood together, watching the troll writhe. Footfalls echoed behind them and Bratan leapt past them, his crimson armor a flash of red.

  “Free my horse, beast!” Bratan shouted, twirling his double-bladed fanisar as he fell. He struck the troll’s belly, the weapon’s sharp edge pointing toward its head.

  Kaescis raised his brow. Had Bratan not noticed the horses?

  Orange blood spewed from the wound, splashing against Bratan’s armor. The Crimson Praetorian yelled a battle cry, furiously dragging his fanisar across the troll’s belly to its neck.

  The troll let out dying wails, flailing its arms and legs. It soon fell limp, twitching every few seconds.

  Bratan pulled his fanisar from the creature and pushed aside its stretching skin. “Where’s my horse?!” he shouted, then looked back to Kaescis.

  Kaescis dismissed his blade and removed his helmet. “Back by the trees,” he said, pointing to the horses. Bratan let out a sigh and leapt off the twitching troll.

  Laeyit burst into laughter, sheathing her transmuted weapon. The disintegrating particles faded, and the haviklur vanished. She didn’t dismiss it like Kaescis. Her weapon was actually generated and maintained by the sheath. The sheath was a tevisral, after all.

  “Oh, Bratan,” Laeyit continued laughing. “You never cease to entertain me!” Bratan trotted up the slope, shaking his head.

  Kaescis grinned at his friend. Bratan could be overzealous at times. But that trait made him a great asset on the battlefield. Bratan’s zeal had turned the tide of several battles.

  “I amaze,” Gevistra said. Kaescis turned around as the Wildman approached on his valerin. “You slay a throll!”

  “It’s pronounced troll,” Laeyit corrected him.

  “Oh…” Gevistra said, looking sullen. He was a tribal leader and probably hated being corrected. “You must bring,” Gevistra pointed to the corpse.

  “You want us to drag a troll?” Bratan asked. “That thing is too heavy for our horses.”

  “You know sacred tongue,” Gevistra said. “You drag troll with power.”

  Laeyit sighed. “Why drag it when we can just reanimate it?” she asked.

  “Reahmin…aeight?” Gevistra asked, trying to pronounce the word.

  “Reanimate,” Laeyit said. “I can make him walk again.”

  “No,” Gevistra shook his head. “Troll wild. Will hurt many.”

  “I’ll be controlling it.” Laeyit rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t think that’s wise, Laeyit,” Kaescis said. “We might scare the Wildmen.”

  “Exactly,” Laeyit said, looking sharply at Kaescis. “They need to reverence us. Their tales tell of men who wielded necromancy.”

  Kaescis studied her for a moment. A reanimated troll would be a wondrous sight to behold. Besides, Gevistra wanted them to bring it.

  “Fine,” Kaescis said with a wave of his hand. “But if anything goes awry, you’re dismissing the spell.”

  Laeyit nodded and returned to the ledge. Kaescis commanded the horses he enthralled to come near.

  “What she do?” Gevistra demanded, his tone furious.

  “Don’t worry,” Kaescis said, extending his hand in a placating manner. “Laeyit is in complete control. The troll is dead. She is moving it, like a puppet.”

  “Puupit?” Gevistra asked.

  “It’s a toy, used to entertain people,” Kaescis said. “A puppeteer moves the puppet, and it looks like the puppet is moving on its own.”

  “Strange,” Gevistra shook his head. “Very strange. Why do this?”

  “Use puppets?” Kaescis chuckled. “It’s fun.”

  “That not fun,” Gevistra pointed past Kaescis. “That scary.”

  Bratan shook his head and mounted his horse.

  Kaescis smiled at the Wildman. He had an innocent quality that was endearing. Perhaps I’ll take him with me, he mused. The empire will need an emissary to these tribes. Kaescis would see to an alliance between his people and these Wildmen, once he restored them. That was his ultimate goal for the Wildmen. The empire would need allies in this war they were to wage.

  “Let’s go,” Laeyit said, mounting her horse. She gestured to the trees with her hand, commanding the reanimated corpse to move.

  Kaescis walked toward his horse, but another tremor shot through the ground. He fell and waited for the shaking to stop before standing.

  Two so close together, he thought. There had been tremors every day since encountering the Wildmen, but not this frequent. That worried him.

  Kaescis mounted his black steed and Gevistra guided them back to the path. They would arrive at the Wildmen tent city before sunset.

  * * * * *

  Cornar steadied himself against the tremor. It was the fourth one today. The second had been so violent that many of the horses bucked off their riders and fled. A third struck shortly thereafter, but not as intense as the others. It took them awhile to round up the horses. Hem and some of the Mindolarn mages had to use their magic to coerce them back to the expedition. By the time everyone was back together, it was time to make camp.

  Sensing that the tremors were finished, Cornar continued through the war camp. He passed several Wildmen who were escorted by some of Galiur’s men.

  The Wildmen tribe from the fortress had come with them as escorts. Half of them had undergone some kind of transformation at the hand of Kaescis, looking like a hybrid of human and Wildman. The leaders of the expedition knew where they were going, but the Wildmen were there in case they ran across others of their kind.

  Cornar headed to the mess tent within the war camp’s outer ring. His men had decided to mingle with the soldiers. Cornar was not one to elevate himself above his men, so he intended to join them in the mess tent.

  He passed one of the war camp’s entrances, glancing through it. Cornar had a habit of checking entrances to camps. Sometimes he didn’t notice h
e was doing it. A robed masculine figure caught his eye, approaching from the trees.

  Who is that? he wondered.

  The guards didn’t flinch at the stranger’s approach.

  Cornar took a few more steps, edging away from the war camp’s entrance.

  He warily watched the robe figure approach—it was Jahevial. The scholar was clutching his robe, much like the night Cornar saw him exiting the servants’ tent.

  Where had he gone? The expedition hadn’t passed anything of archeological importance on the way here.

  Jahevial passed the guards and entered the camp, walking the way Cornar had come. The scholar didn’t even notice Cornar. Jahevial hurried through the camp, disappearing around the bend.

  Cornar furrowed his brow, contemplating the possible reasons behind Jahevial’s actions. That was twice he had seen Jahevial sneaking out of the war camp.

  I’m going to follow him next time, Cornar vowed. Tomorrow he would keep a close eye on Jahevial until they set up camp. If Jahevial left again Cornar would follow him.

  Perhaps I can borrow Sharon’s—

  The ground shook, and Cornar stumbled. Some of the soldiers around him fell.

  “That’s five,” he whispered. How many more were going to strike today?

  * * * * *

  The tremor faded as Kaescis rode toward the sprawl of tents in a vast plain. He and Laeyit hadn’t dismissed their enthralling spells. It was a good thing, else their horses would have run again.

  Five tremors in a day, Kaescis thought. Were they foreshadowing a devastating earthquake? That didn’t bode well for the expedition, since the temple was underground.

  “They will marvel,” Gevistra said. “You give High Chieftain Bhrane… troll,”—he seemed to want to get the word right—“to hang head.”

  “Like a trophy?” Bratan asked.

  “I know not what that is…” Gevistra shrugged.

  “Hang the heads of your fallen prey,” Bratan said. “Hunters do it as a token of bravery.”

  “Ah,” Gevistra nodded. “Is same thing. He show all tribes as he travel. Make him look strong to them.”

  Laeyit laughed. “So we’re going to help him with his image,” she mused.

  Kaescis nodded. Another bargaining chip.

  They continued onward. Laeyit and Bratan talked with Gevistra while Kaescis mulled over the coming meeting. He considered how to phrase his offer to the high chieftain.

  Twilight was upon the island as Kaescis’s small band reached the camp. A wall of Wildmen, armed with clubs, stood at the edge of the tents. They wore green-dyed clothing. Each eyed Kaescis warily, looking at Laeyit’s reanimated troll with trepidation.

  As Kaescis and the others neared the Wildmen, Gevistra broke into song. He had told Kaescis that it was how the tribal leaders announced themselves. This particular song was about Gevistra and his people. Kaescis couldn’t understand what Gevistra was singing about, as it all seemed gibberish.

  The Wildmen relaxed and several stepped forward.

  “I greet you,” Gevistra said, bowing his head. The approaching Wildmen gasped. They looked to each other, then one continued toward Gevistra.

  Confused, the foremost Wildman threw several questions at Gevistra.

  “What is this?” Kaescis parsed the first question, raising an eyebrow. And… The other questions weren’t intelligible. Kaescis thought one of them might be, “Why you sound odd?” but the words were too distorted for him to be sure.

  “I restored!” Gevistra exclaimed raising his hands to the air. “Touch by god son.” The Wildmen muttered panicked phrases, apparently unsure what to think of Gevistra’s declaration.

  “We must see High Chieftain Bhrane.”

  “Why?” the Wildman asked, the word sounding like way.

  “He must speak,” Gevistra pointed to Kaescis, then to the troll. “He slay troll. He know Words of Power.”

  Kaescis dismounted from his horse, looking at the Wildmen. “Do not fear me. I come in peace.” He let that sink in before continuing. “I have come to bargain with your chieftain, and present him with a gift.” Kaescis gestured to the reanimated troll. “A prize for him.”

  “Take us to High Chieftain Bhrane,” Gevistra said.

  The Wildmen cleared a path, allowing Kaescis’s band to enter the tent city.

  Laeyit, Bratan, and Gevistra remained on their beasts of burden, but Kaescis walked. He wanted to show a sense of humility to these Wildmen, to gain their trust, so to speak.

  The foremost Wildman uttered a word and then gestured for Kaescis and the others to follow.

  They walked through the tent city for a while, passing rows and rows of simple tents made from animal skins and wood. The Wildmen really were primitive. They watched the procession from their tents, whispering to each other. They probably had never seen foreigners welcomed in such a manner, especially in their capital. If one could call this tent city a capital. That thought amused Kaescis, and he fought back laughter.

  Most everything looked the same until they reached what seemed to be the middle of the mobile city. A wide path ringed a unique set of tents, much larger than the others.

  These tents had an emblem painted on their sides; a half circle with a narrow triangle on its top.

  A Wildman woman exited one of the tents, hurrying over to Gevistra. She shook her head, looking frightened. The Wildman woman asked Gevistra a question while fear spread across her face.

  Why you odd looking? Kaescis parsed the question. The last two words were barely comprehensible. Odd sounded like oud, while looking sounded like lou-ken.

  “I restored, Fenia!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in a gesture of praise. He quickly dismounted from his valerin and hurried to her.

  Fenia, the Wildman woman, looked at him with horror. She stepped away from Gevistra, shaking her head. She shrilled a statement in a tone of denial, ending with a word that sounded like brother.

  Gevistra looked pained at that remark. “I am brother, Fenia.”

  Her brother? Kaescis thought. This could be beneficial.

  “We must speak to High Chieftain Bhrane,” Gevistra said, gesturing to the center of the unique tents. “Come.” He waved for Kaescis. “Leave troll here.”

  A resounding thud echoed from behind Kaescis, and he glanced back to see Laeyit waving her hand in an exaggerated fashion.

  Kaescis followed Gevistra and his sister through the compound and entered the high chieftain’s tent. It was quite large, held upright by long poles carved from trees with a red inner bark.

  Gevistra began singing again, drawing everyone’s attention. The Wildmen gawked at him with disbelief.

  Soon, they all stood at the foot of a wooden throne where a burly man—obviously High Chieftain Bhrane—sat, gazing at Gevistra. The skulls of wild animals hung behind the throne. Even some human skulls were among the collection.

  “I kneel before you, High Chieftain Bhrane,” Gevistra said, dropping to his knees. “I bring you prince.” He stood and pointed to Kaescis.

  That must be the cue for him to speak.

  Kaescis stepped forward and clasped his hands behind his back. Laeyit and Bratan stepped up behind him.

  “High Chieftain Bhrane, I am Prince Kaescis Midivar, sixth in line to the Mindolarn throne. I am the son of Mindolarn the first emperor, who was the son of Madars, the son of Karath’nos, begotten through the lineage of Ku’tharn.”

  Bhrane’s dark-brown eyes widened and his snout-like face twisted in fear. The others in the room gasped, and some wailed in terror.

  “You… god?” Bhrane asked.

  Kaescis barely understood the simple question, but didn’t answer. He wanted to let the high chieftain stew in his perplexity. That would give Kaescis the upper hand.

  “He god son,” Gevistra said. “He know word of power. He speak token.”

  That disturbed Bhrane even further.

  Good. Kaescis grinned. “I have come to strike a bargain with you, good chieftain, and I also pr
esent a gift. You will find the corpse of a great beast outside your tents. I’m sure it’ll look nice with your collection.” Kaescis gestured to the skulls.

  Bhrane demanded another question, one Gevistra had asked in the Fortress of Anigar.

  Why you here? Kaescis parsed the question, then grinned. “I seek a great secret hidden within the ruins of Klindil. I merely want safe passage.”

  Bhrane frowned, spreading his hands wide. He spoke of Klindil, repeating what Kaescis thought was the word sacred. The Wildman pronounced it sah-kreed. Bhrane continued, proclaiming choppy declarations that Kaescis must not go to Klindil.

  “I must go,” Kaescis said, “for the good of all Kalda. Our world depends on it.” Bhrane looked troubled. He sighed, averting his gaze from Kaescis.

  “In exchange for your permission, I will restore you and those of your choosing. You and those of your choosing will be returned to the glory of your ancestors. No longer will you be shackled by the fate forced upon you by our enemies.”

  Kaescis couldn’t help but think of the Karthar rebels, which sparked a glimmer of anger.

  Death…

  Shaking the word from his mind, Kaescis continued. “I restored Gevistra here, partially,” Kaescis said. “Allow me to demonstrate further. His sister, Fenia, perhaps?” he suggested, turning to the Wildman woman. Fenia gasped, bringing her hairy hand to her protruding lips. Her eyes flashed with terror.

  “It fine, Fenia,” Gevistra said, grabbing his sister. “You safe. No hurt.”

  “Gevistra!” she cried.

  Kaescis glanced back to High Chieftain Bhrane, awaiting an answer.

  The high chieftain nodded, sucking in his breath. He probably didn’t know what to expect.

  Kaescis uttered that same arpran incantation, “Si’nak ma’nal senda.” Green particles gathered in his hands. “Ulak’xin ma’ril kusaz.” The light beamed from his palm, striking Fenia. She glowed a green hue, her elongated face shrinking.