When did this happen?
Waxxon turned and rushed toward the stairwell. Had Una done this? Who else could have? And why? Had the goddess killed Renee to remove the mediator and grant him direct contact to her power source? If so, then perhaps he was the chosen one to rule Hoffnung after all. Then a more disturbing thought occurred to him. Had Una killed the priestess as a warning that the same fate was his if he didn’t find and kill Lady Dawn?
He trembled, recalling Una’s underlying threat for him to find Lady Dawn in order to prove he was worthy of the throne. He hurried his pace down the stone steps, his armor rattling fiercely as he moved.
Several minutes passed before he made his way to the front of the temple and knelt beside Renee’s broken body. Her chest did not rise and fall. She had lost ample amounts of blood, so he had no doubt that she was dead. The tragedy stood to be his triumph. A king with direct access to a goddess was something for any other kingdom to fear. He rose with a stern grin on his face while fighting tears of joy.
Feathers rustled in the trees above the walkway. He looked up to see a gray dove. The docile bird spread her wings and flew away. Seconds later, black crows and ravens roosted in the tree branches. Dozens of them. Their piercing dark eyes watched him menacingly. Had Una sent them, or was it merely coincidence? These scavenging birds often came soon after death. Hundreds of Hoffnung guards and civilians had been killed the night before. He hoped the arrival of the carrion birds was to feed and not accommodate Una by being familiars spying for her.
Thick black smoke billowed in dark clouds near the front of the castle. He cursed. He had directly ordered the plundering Vykings not to set any buildings on fire. Angered, he hurried to the nearest locked gate, pulled the ring of iron keys off his belt, and unlocked the gate. He’d send gravediggers back to bury the priestess in the holy temple yard. She deserved a place of recognition. After all, she was the one that had helped enable him to succeed at his mission to overthrow Queen Taube.
Waxxon sprinted down the cobblestone street from the temple until he entered the outer gardens of the castle where the fires blazed. The Vykings had built two large pyres to burn the dead bodies of Queen Taube’s loyal guards. Along the edge of the walkways were tall poles with heads impaled atop sharp pointed tips.
He marched to Prince Manfrid and said, “What is the meaning of this?”
Manfrid shrugged. “Ridding your kingdom of the bodies before the rotten stench and more carrion birds infest the palace grounds.”
“Where is the Plague-bringer? I thought he would amass new armies for us.”
“He is. Just not here.”
“Then where?”
Manfrid smiled. “Your guess is as good as mine. He could be anywhere in Aetheaon.”
“Why doesn’t he resurrect these for part of the undead army?”
“Rest assured. You don’t want the undead wandering through Hoffnung. It’s best to assemble them outside the city gates.”
“Why?” Waxxon asked with a concerned expression.
“Some are uncontrollable. They’d kill innocent civilians without regard. Best to arrange them when you’re ready for battle, especially when the Plague-bringer is there to command them.”
“I see.” He couldn’t hide the worried expression of concern upon his face.
Waxxon looked at the carnage in the gardens. Bodies lay torn and bloody with their swords or crossbows lying nearby. Vykings and Waxxon’s guards worked busily to strip the corpses of their armor.
Most of the dead were his guards and those that had died faithfully serving Queen Taube. Few Vykings had been victims. He assumed that was because the charge for the throne had been issued by his troops. The Vykings had fought valiantly to overtake the harbor, the lifts, and the main gates. Now, it seemed, most were settling in, not doing much of anything.
Some of the Vykings sat on granite benches near large pools. They had raided taverns and rolled out barrels of ale to quench their never-ending thirst. Waxxon stared at them, somewhat disgusted, but not brave enough to make a confrontation. No need to die within a day of claiming a throne.
“Where is your brother?” Waxxon asked.
“Xylus? Probably found himself a maiden or two,” Manfrid replied with a smile.
Waxxon shook his head.
“You don’t know much about my people, do you, new king?” Manfrid asked.
“Discovering more and more every moment.”
“While you may reign on this throne, know that neither Xylus nor myself will ever bow a knee to you.”
Waxxon swallowed hard. He nodded. “I expected no less. Besides, your brother made that perfectly clear yesterday.”
“But, as our father has commanded us, we will aid you in your missions, if you desire our help.”
Vykings hefted dead bodies over their shoulders and carried them to the pyres, tossing them effortlessly onto the blazing fire. Black smoke continued to rise. The human flesh sizzled and popped. The brutality of the carnage was more than Waxxon had expected. Somewhat sickened, he turned his gaze toward Manfrid.
“There is one thing I need.”
Manfrid smiled. “Name it.”
“The queen’s daughter, Dawn. She’s still alive and possibly within the castle walls. I want her found and brought to me alive.”
“And how do you know she’s not dead?”
“None of the guards could find her after they killed the queen.”
Manfrid stared at the huge castle with dozens of spires and balconies. “Perhaps she is still inside the castle?”
“I’ve thought the same. Guards are searching floor by floor and all the passageways, too. If she’s there, they’ll find her.”
Manfrid studied Waxxon’s face and said, “But you believe she’s elsewhere?”
“I do.”
“I’ll gather some of my brethren, and we’ll begin searching the outer buildings.”
“And what of the queen’s remains? You have those?” Manfrid asked.
Waxxon shook his head. “She and one of my guards plummeted out of the window onto the cliffs below the castle. She’s dead as is he. But we have no way to climb down those jagged rocks to investigate.”
“I see.” He shrugged. “So we focus on the daughter and finding her.”
“Yes. Bring her to me when you find her,” Waxxon said.
Manfrid nodded and motioned to two other Vykings to follow him. They left the gardens and took the first narrow alleyway they came to.
Waxxon watched the charring bodies of men smoldering on the giant pyres. The taste of blood was still in his mouth from where he had drunk from Una’s fountain. He thought about the last thing the goddess had said before she broke their connection. He had to find Lady Dawn or the throne would never be his. It was a stern warning. He knew he couldn’t chance not finding the princess and executing her. His jaw tightened as determination flowed through his mind. He’d find her. Soon. And death would follow.
Chapter Twenty-one
Down a trash-cluttered narrow alleyway, Caen led Baymont. Too much garbage prevented him from riding swiftly. Also amongst the crates and barrels, dead bodies were strewn. Some were Royal Guards while others were Waxxon’s rebels. More than a few were civilians.
Dawn dutifully walked ahead, as a squire should, but cautiously. Since most of the upheaval had occurred throughout the night, they hoped to sneak out of Hoffnung without being seen.
The only outlet was straight ahead to one of the city’s main streets or to retreat back in the direction they had come. Turning back was not an option since they needed to get out of the city. The farther from the docks where the invading Vykings were positioned, the safer they were. But this alley wasn’t a good place to linger for long. If Waxxon’s men approached from both directions, they were trapped in the center.
Dawn stepped over a busted wooden crate and moved slowly toward two broken barrels. A couple of rats scurried toward a broken crumbling rock wall. Mortar and chunks of rock spilled out in
to a pile that partially blocked the alley. Planks were nailed into place where the solid rock had once been.
As they neared, Dawn noticed the dead guard’s body wedged between the barrels and the debris pile.
“Here,” Caen said, handing the reins to Dawn. “Hold Baymont for a minute. I need to check that guard.”
Puzzled, she lowered her voice and said, “Why? He’s dead.”
“I know.”
Dawn took the reins while Caen stepped around and dragged the guard’s body out into the open. He removed the mail from the corpse and walked to her.
“He was about your size,” Caen said. “This should fit you.”
“I don’t need that.”
“You do. More than you think. An unarmored boy makes for quick sport from tyrants that like to harass others. With all the unrest in Hoffnung, this added protection might well save your life. And depending upon which cities we venture into, there are those who will kill for wagers.”
He motioned with his hand for her to lift her arms. Raising her arms hurt. She winced as he slid the mail over her head and adjusted it to her shoulders. The metal was cold, but felt good on the burning welts. The armor wasn’t too heavy that it slowed her down should she need to move quickly.
“Let’s see what else he has,” Caen said.
He found the young man’s short sword. “You need a good weapon. This will do for now.”
Dawn took the sword. It was much heavier in her hand for its size than she had expected. She raised it and looked at it questionably.
Caen grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll train you how to use it.”
She slid the short sword inside the burlap bag and rolled the bag around it.
He took the reins, and they continued down the alley. An odd smoky scent drifted over the roofs and filled the cluttered narrow walkway where they stood. She looked over her shoulder at Caen.
“What’s that smell?” she asked.
“Burning bodies,” he replied.
She turned and closed her eyes. She wondered how many people had died overnight. In history any battle where a great kingdom fell to an unexpected enemy, slaughter was usually great. Most of the victims weren’t Hoffnung’s soldiers but innocent townspeople and children. For the children spared, a lot were now orphans.
“That’s a horrible odor,” she said.
“I agree, but it’s more tolerable than decaying flesh where flies swarm and the fat maggots squirm and feast.”
The image was more than she could bear. For some reason the image of her mother falling from the castle window to the cliffside came to mind. She pictured her mother’s broken body and what the elements might . . . She took a deep breath to calm herself. She had done well to use anger to mask the pain of her loss, and she felt that veil starting to rip. She choked back the tears and paced on down the alley.
“Donne!” Caen said in a harsh whisper.
Dawn turned.
He motioned her to get out of view behind the barrels and stacked wooden crates.
“What is it?” she whispered. By the time she had said the words, the sound of horse hooves clomping on the cobblestone street at the end of the alley caught her attention. She crouched down behind the barrel and peered around the side of it. Three armored guards rode past but didn’t glance in their direction.
After they passed, Dawn rose and faced Caen.
“We should go,” he said, leading the stallion.
Dawn didn’t argue. She also didn’t hesitate. She said, “Not before you find different armor. Looks like more guards are making their rounds.”
“I see.”
“My fear is that the city gates might be closed.”
Caen’s eyes narrowed. “That’s always a possibility. We need to hurry.”
“Not before we finished what you abandoned,” a deep voice said from the rooftop.
Caen looked up.
Sammis dropped to the alley. He pulled his heavy sword from its sheath and brought up his round bronze shield. “As you can see, I’m the better swordsman.” He struck his shield with the sword twice and motioned Caen to draw his weapon.
“You killed your comrade?” Caen asked.
“No, but he’s in no shape to challenge you or me. So you get to fight the better of the two as you requested.”
Caen shrugged, then nodded and drew his sword.
Sammis snarled and said, “To the death.”
Dawn took Baymont’s reins and watched the Vyking circle around Caen. She had never seen her knight fight, so she was fearful of Sammis’ challenge. The Vyking held much more anger than Caen expressed. In fact, Caen seemed more entertained by the challenge than threatened. She didn’t believe that was the best reaction. Overconfidence was dangerous.
Chapter Twenty-two
Dwiskter met Lehrling and Bausch on their way toward the lift. The dwarf’s shoulder was wrapped tightly with fresh bandages.
“Aye! There you are,” Dwiskter said. “I do wish you’d take the medic’s advice and stick around for a few more days until you know for certain that your injuries are healing adequately. Tis a rough journey to Glacier Ridge, especially for a traveler who’s not at his best.”
Lehrling smiled. “I appreciate your concern, friend. But we must find more of the Dragon Skull Order soon.”
Dwiskter nodded, rubbing his beard. “Aye. Once you’ve gathered your numbers, send message this way by raven. I’ll be one dwarf carrying me ax to rid Hoffnung of all the turncoats and invaders. I particularly hope to find the rascal that put an arrow through me.”
Chains clanged and gears clicked as the lift platform lowered and stopped. Dwiskter pulled the metal door open, and the three of them stepped inside. The reddish-orange glow of bubbling, molten steel lighted beneath the grated floor from a hundred yards below.
As the lift went up, Lehrling asked, “Who was the green-robed lady at the royal table last night?”
Dwiskter shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Just a traveler that the king invited to be a guest at his banquet table.”
“You’ve never seen her before?”
“No. Why? Did I miss something?”
Lehrling blushed. “No. Just curiosity from an old man.”
“Aye. Never too old to admire the beauty of a woman, regardless of the race. Or age,” Dwiskter said, giving a slight wink and grin.
“That is true, but it wasn’t that. It was the way she carried herself. She had a regal air about her. I thought maybe she held power in one of the other kingdoms.”
“None to my knowledge.”
The lift stopped. Dwiskter pushed open the whining gate.
They stepped off the lift and headed down the steel-plated walkway. Their boots clicked as they walked. Numerous torches lighted the massive hall. The warm air made Lehrling almost forget that they were deep inside the ground of one of the most frigid regions in Aetheaon.
Following the metal-plated corridor, they headed up a slight incline where the air actually became cooler. Outside light brightened the end of the tunnel. They turned left and exited into the stable yard. The temperature plummeted.
King Staggnuns’ pet flew across the yard, swooped downward, and plucked a fat pigeon off the ground. With its squawking meal clutched in the winged creature’s claws, the king’s pet landed on the roof. The pigeon struggled for a few moments until the little creature expelled fire from its mouth and torched its victim.
Lehrling marveled. A dragonkin?
King Staggnuns and Prince Luxille stood outside the stables when Lehrling, Bausch, and Dwiskter arrived. They wore their royal colors of gold, silver, and burgundy. Lehrling and his party bowed to the king and prince.
King Staggnuns gave a solemn nod. To Lehrling, he said, “We’re building a small army to aid the Dragon Skull Knights, but such a battle against Hoffnung’s new king and his Vyking warriors will require more than our numbers alone.”
Lehrling’s eyes misted with tears. He offered another bow. “Your offer is overwhelming and
most generous.”
Staggnuns replied, “It is necessary to all of Aetheaon that the traitorous Waxxon and his armies be removed immediately. Otherwise, we can expect their annoying attempts to eventually try to overtake our city. It’s better to remove the head of a baby serpent than to wait until it’s fully matured and more venomous.”
The trade wagon destined for Glacier Ridge was being loaded with barrels of ale and other supplies. The shaggy, muscled horses hitched to the wagon looked eager to begin their journey. White fog expelled from their nostrils. Impatience made them chomp at their bits and shuffle their feet back and forth.
Staggnuns grabbed the lapels of his robe and said, “I’m sending scouts ahead through an adjacent underground tunnel to Damdur and Nagdor to inform their kings of Hoffnung’s fall. They will be more than willing to join our cause to overthrow Waxxon and eradicate the Vykings from Aetheaon.”
“That is most gracious,” Lehrling said.
The king smiled. “That’s the best I can offer. It will be up to you to rally the leaders of the Elven cities, Woodnog, Legelarid, and any other human city to help in this battle.”
“We will.”
“A small group of my warriors will accompany the caravan to Glacier Ridge. They will protect you until you reach that town of thieves. After they unload the wagon, they will journey back here quickly. So . . .”
“We’re basically on our own afterwards,” Bausch said firmly.
“Aye,” Staggnuns replied.
The wagon riders brought their muskets and pouches of gunpowder and then they set them in front of the wagon seat.
“There be bears and snow panthers along the way,” Dwiskter said to Lehrling and Bausch. “Don’t usually have to kill them though. The loud sounds of gunfire send them into hiding.”
“It’s not the wildlife I’m worried about,” Lehrling said.
“Nor would I,” the dwarf replied. “Not after what I saw come to Hoffnung’s docks. We have darker foes to contend with.”
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