The Usurper

by James Alderdice

  “Wanna bet?” countered Niels.

  “I’m game,” said Two-Toes Turley. “Five to one, Gathelaus’s finally bitten off more than he can chew. Then I’ll command you sorry son’s of…”

  “Make it ten to one,” said Redd. “I’ve kids to feed.”

  “So do I.” Two-Toes chuckled, “Ten to one it is. Hardy?”

  “Not’s me’s. Gathelaus’s must knows somethings.”

  The last, a signals-lieutenant called Topper, rubbed his hands together vigorously and brought them to his mouth shivering, “How? What should we expect, boss?”

  “We won’t siege it. I’ll get in and open the gate and we rush in just before dawn still cloaked in shadow. We slay every Khanzi and sympathizer in the place.”

  “Just how are we gonna do that? Hmmm,” pestered Turley.

  “I’ll do it. I have my ways,” countered Gathelaus.

  “What about the rest of us?” asked Niels.

  “You’re coming with me. The rest will prepare to move in.”

  “Are we to stay out of sight?” asked Redd.

  “Of course. No use in letting them know we are here.”

  “But they are sorcerer’s, what if they already know?” asked the Nameless newcomer.

  “They won’t waste arrows or ballista with these high mountain winds until they sight us before the gates. Til then, we stay back and out of sight.”

  Hardy muttered, “You’s saids you’s knew’s a ways to get’s us in.”

  “Who let him drink?”

  “The Leech said he could have it for the frostbite,” answered Niels. “He’ll be fearless, and you can’t mess up a butcher’s job.”

  Hardy grinned, showing crooked teeth as he batted the haft of his axe in his broad hands. He was a butcher if anyone ever was.

  Gathelaus nodded in return saying, “They’ll sing songs of our deeds round the table for generations.”

  “None’s ever taken the Roost,” argued Two-Toes.

  Gathelaus countered, “And they said none could escape its dungeons too. I’m destined to exact righteous vengeance.”

  “Don’t feed me your holier than thou dreams Gathelaus,” snarled Two-Toes, gesturing to himself thumb extended. “Gimme something real. If I’m leading the charge. It’s my life on the chopping block.”

  “Get in line,” Gathelaus replied coolly. “If Votan says your time is done...it’s done.”

  Niels chuckled, “Besides, the Khanzi’s are superstitious I hear and prefer slaying Northmen like Gathelaus to Tolburnian’s like you.”

  Two-Toes couldn’t argue the point. Khanzi’s had worked hard to exterminate any Northmen they could all in the name of their Blood Magic Sorcery; or as they called it in their own tongue, the Tabulon Vyrking. Seems someone had prophesied that a Northman would defeat them. But in the end, it had been a coalition of the Peninsular nations banding together to beat back the despots. Northmen were only involved in the mercenary companies, hardly a thing to fear in the grand scheme. But that didn’t stop the rumors.

  “Before you’re within bowshot, I’ll have slain the night-watch and you’ll have an open passage. We attack just before dawn. I’ll signal with a blast from the trump, drop the gate, and you’ll bring the men to finish it.” Two-Toes, Hardy, Redd, and Topper grunted their acknowledgment. Niels didn’t need to. “Tell the men to put their armor on at least two hours before dawn. No need being cold in it all night.”

  “And what about Khanzi witchcraft’s?” asked Topper, stamping his feet against the cold. “I’ve seen their witch-fire cook an armored man like a roast pig.”

  “So, don’t wear your armor if you like,” said Niels.

  “Cold steel will slay them the same as any man.”

  Topper and the others saluted and faded back into the wooded slopes except for Niels, who asked, “How long has it been now? Since you escaped?”

  “Six years, ten weeks and two days. Hard to believe it’s over.”

  “Is it?”

  Gathelaus rubbed a calloused hand across his scruffy jaw, “I’m cursed, that this had to be the last Khanzi stronghold. I never should’ve taken this long to get back. I pray she forgives me.”

  Niels slapped Gathelaus on the back. “She will. Wars take time.”

  Watching the red sun set against the dark mountains, neither man said anything for a long time until Topper came trudging back through the snow. “Tell me captain, how are you getting inside?”

  “Same way I got out.” Gathelaus pointed at the slanting mountain ridge above the enemy castle. “A hidden tunnel quarried for water comes from a glacial lake beyond that peak and enters just under the gatehouse feeding their cistern.”

  “Couldn’t they have barred it? Especially since you’re the only man to have ever escaped?”

  Gathelaus grinned, “They never knew how I did it. Guess the Khanzi thought I must have fallen climbing the cliffs to escape.”

  Topper furrowed his brow, “You climbed out a well?”

  Gathelaus’s grin vanished like a snuffed lamp.

  “What’d I say?”

  Niels shrugged.

  “Almost froze to death on this mountain. My little sister made me swear if I couldn’t rescue her in three days that I’d leave, that I’d go save the rest of the family and overthrow the Khanzi. The only oath I ever considered breaking.”

  “I never knew. I’m sorry,” said Topper, slapping Gathelaus on the shoulder.

  “If Arianna is still alive...” Gathelaus trailed off, his mind was elsewhere.

  “If?” asked Topper.

  Niels frowned, whispering, “Who survives a Khanzi death camp?”

  “Let’s go Niels. Watch for the signal, Topper.”

  “Sorry captain. Wait. Just the two of you? I thought you’d take a dozen men. I was coming back to ask who you wanted to take with you? Thorne and Jolly Rogers are bringing up the rear guard, they should be here soon.”

  “We two can do this. I don’t want Two-Toes thinking he’s short-handed. Thorne and Rogers will make sure this frontal assault works.”

  “Yes, Captain,” mumbled Topper with a worried look.

  “We’ll meet in the morning and laugh about the cold before a roaring fire and drinking the last of the Khanzi sorcerers wine,” said Gathelaus, clasping Topper’s hand.

  Topper nodded and went back to the trees.

  “Let’s go,” said Gathelaus, pointing at a windswept trail that led up to the peak.

  Scaling up past crags and loose boulders, Gathelaus watched careful that they didn’t create a landslide and giveaway their position.

  Niels strung his stout horn bow. He could kill a man at six hundred paces; and he wanted to be prepared if there was a Khanzi lookout stationed at the lake though Gathelaus swore there wouldn’t be.

  “I crouched in the howling wind for three days watching that demonic castle. No one else would have endured that who didn’t have to.” Gathelaus cracked his knuckles. “I’ve a thunder in the blood. Cold vengeance is coming.”

  They reached the summit as the stars emerged from hiding. A pale jeweled moon cast a ghostly reflection upon the still lake. Gathelaus knelt facing north upon a bare slab of rock. Hands upon his sword, he let his heart be felt by the cold gods of the north. His prayers to the All-Father had no words, because if the gods knew his heart, all was known to them and words only got in the way.

  “Lake’s bigger than I thought it would be. I’m glad it’s not entirely frozen,” said Niels, shivering.

  “It will feel like it is,” said Gathelaus, as he put a fresh dressing upon his cracked and bloody foot.

  The lake sat in a lengthy oblong depression, jumbled small boulders made up the shore, and snow clung to the shadows between the stones.

  Niels glanced over the landscape. “I don’t see a marker or entrance.”

  Gathelaus grinned like the wolf he was, “It’s underwater. The lake is higher than it used to be. I anticipated this. You don’t think they would have left it to be ea
sily found by besiegers, do you?”

  “I didn’t think I’d have to get very wet,” answered Niels, taking off his coat, boots, and mail.

  Gathelaus chuckled, steam wafting from his mouth as he removed his cloak and chain mail.

  “Are there any fish?” Niels asked, dipping a toe into the lake.

  “Pike, trout, and crayfish as big as lobsters.” Gathelaus gestured with arms wide. “They’re what I lived on for three days.” Stripping down to his woolen trousers and boots, he slung his swordbelt over his shoulder and waded into the freezing waters.

  “I know where it is but wait. I’ll signal when I’ve found it.” Then with a full body shiver, Gathelaus went into the cold dark water.

  The initial shock almost made him turn back, but Arianna’s face burned in his mind. He would set her free this night or die trying.

  A commotion of bubbles frothed to the right of Gathelaus. He couldn’t see them so much as feel their chilling tickle. Then the bubbles moved to the left as the lake water heaved because of some aquatic commotion.

  The water may as well have been tar for all Gathelaus could see, but he remembered the stones and where they lay. His hands caressed a slimy bottom of choking weeds and muck, then finally a firm escarpment of stone. Swimming to the left he followed a gentle suction into a wide chamber that opened to a hidden cavity in the heart of the mountain.

  He burst up into a pitch-black air pocket receiving a much-needed breath. Feeling about the passage, Gathelaus found the torch he had left six years earlier still sitting on the ledge. He shook his steel and flint and after a dozen tries got the torch to light beating back the darkness.

  Save for some floating debris, the chamber was much the same as it was six years earlier. Water ran downhill in a sluiced hand carved tunnel just wide enough for a man. Going down would be much easier than coming up. He set the torch on the rock ledge and went back to guide Niels.

  Plunging back into blind, cold darkness he went through the opening brushing past the slime. So cold, he needed another breath already. Then something caught at his boot. The boot that reeked of blood. He recalled no snags or sunken logs that could catch. The pressure grew. Logs don’t pinch.

  It pulled him backward.

  He kicked at the obstacle and felt it lose its grip and let go.

  Gathelaus feared no living man, but this? This could be no man.

  Chopping through the water, he both cursed and praised that he wore his thick dragon skin boots. He came up gasping, then slammed the ax back down into the murk behind him. Rushing back to the rock-strewn edge, he stared fixedly back at the gloomy water.

  Niels grabbed his bow and knocked an arrow. “What was it?”

  Something indefinable disturbed the surface, shapeless in the obscure billowing lake. All was still another eternal second.

  Gathelaus shook his head. “They got bigger.”

  Niels looked puzzled a moment until they each heard the horrific chittering at the water’s edge.

  If the water was black, the six eyes staring hungrily at the two men were blacker still, dark as the stars of the devil. Rust colored chitin covered these starving behemoths, who were each as large as fatted hogs. Claws like torturous clamps snapped at the men as three of the monsters scuttled forward.

  Niels loosed his arrow into the chittering mouth of the nearest menace. Shrieking in its own blasphemous tongue, the monster crayfish dropped back into the lake. The one beside it, paused, as if considering going after the men or its fallen comrade.

  The third gave no hesitation and charged at Gathelaus with flailing pincers.

  Batting the left claw away with his ax, Gathelaus dodged low to avoid the larger right.

  Chittering, the giant crustacean plowed into Gathelaus, gripping his leg on its second attempt then yanking him back into the deep.

  Gathelaus hammered at the creature’s shell in vain; the scab-colored armor deflecting the ax blow time and again.

  The crayfish charged as Niels loosed another arrow. The shaft caught the monster in the eye, and it balked mid-attack.

  Niels missed a second shot in the commotion as Gathelaus was swung into the flight path and Niels narrowly checked his aim. A third arrow took the wounded beast between the eyes and it slumped forward with a curious wheeze.

  Losing his ax, Gathelaus drew his sword and slammed the tip into the flexible chink of the crayfish’s armor. With a titanic heave, Gathelaus slid the blade to the hilt.

  The monster constricted upon itself letting Gathelaus free.

  “This was vile sorcery,” muttered Niels.

  Gathelaus shook his head, “Not sorcery, they just grow big up here.”

  “Don’t deny their power. Even losing the war, the Khanzi’s are a force to be reckoned with. We don’t even know which Sorcerer Lord is here. Could be the Mad Emperor himself for all we know. Maybe we should wait for the Witch-Finder.”

  Gathelaus shook his head, cold water dripping, “I’ll not rest another night til I have rescued Arianna. Stay here if you like, I’m going in.”

  Niels smirked and shook his head. “Who else’d watch your cursed back?”

  Gathelaus tossed Niels the end of a rope saying, “Then let’s go before we freeze to death. A good fire burning down the Roost will warm my spirits.” And he dove back into the icy depths.

  Always the gambler, Niels followed.

  A gust of wind carried a skiff of snow across the dark lake and all was deathly still again.

  2. The Well of Tears

  Smoke hung like a decayed spirit over the hall. A toad-like cook shouted for one of the slave girls to bring him a bucket of water. Grateful to get away from the kitchens for even a moment, she stepped into the frosty night. Wind tugged at her rags, as diabolic voices muttered behind shadowy recesses and corners. Somewhere a man screamed, and another laughed. The fortress walls seemed to trap a web of cold stars overhead. The Khanzi banner, featuring a hooked demons cross, played the spider in her nightmare.

  The deserted courtyard held only a crooked tangle of shingles perched over a ring of well-stones. The limp rope holding the bucket suddenly grew taut. The girl froze, her eyes expanding to the size of saucers. The rope jerked and swung back and forth within the well as something pulled itself aloft. She took two steps forward to glance at what horror crawled from the pit.

  A brawny hand grasped the top flagstone and a mangy blond head with piercing blue eyes peered over. “Hush,” He ordered bringing a finger to his lips before making the sacred sign of the Northman’s. The girl nodded and returned the simple gesture of their common people.

  He leapt over the stones and drew forth his sword. Lean and dangerous, he looked like a caged animal suddenly freed. “Where is Arianna?”

  The slave girl shook her head, pointing towards the dungeon.

  “Do you know her? I am Gathelaus.”

  The girl nodded but said nothing.

  “Speak!”

  She opened her mouth revealing a missing tongue. Harsh reward from her Gathelausant captors.

  “I'll make them pay,” he told her before grating through his teeth, “Niels! Get up here.”

  Niels slid over the rim, silent as a cat. He knocked an arrow and scanned the darkness while shivering. “But we need a fire.”

  “I'll make this place a fiery ruin, once we find Arianna.”

  The girl heard the tinkling of armor first and signaled them to hide at the edge of the stables. Dashing to the shadows, they vanished seconds before six Khanzi troopers paraded past. Armed with crossbows and short thrusting blades, the six guardsmen goose-stepped beyond the courtyard. The girl beckoned Gathelaus and Niels to follow her through an oaken door ringed with a garland of onions, garlic and mint.

  “No,” reminded Niels, “we should get the gate open first.”

  Gathelaus's face grew dark, “I need to find Arianna first. Then we burn this place to the ground.” Chasing down a flight of moldering steps after the mute girl, they passed by dozens of cells with
open doors.

  “Why are they empty?” asked Niels.

  “Don't play the fool with me. You know why.”

  “But all of them?”

  Gathelaus glared. “They’re desperate. The war is over, but they think their gods still burn hungry.”

  The mute girl nodded and again signaled for their silence as they came upon a wider antechamber. A single oil lamp flickered, straining against the deep black of the dungeon.

  A trio of Khanzi guards sat at a table rolling the bones. Only one with a drooping mustache faced them. Niels shot one in the back as Gathelaus charged and struck down another.

  The final Khanzi retreated, glancing for a sword that was too many paces away. Knowing his predicament, he changed tactics, rubbing his mustache asking, “Who are you to strike down noble warriors in the back? You are not honorable soldiers, eh?”

  Gathelaus slammed the guard against the unforgiving wall. “Where is my wife? Arianna?”

  “Ah! She is there,” he pointed a stubby finger at a closed and bolted cell door. A small barred slot gave no view of who was inside. “You will be pleased I think.” Gathelaus released his death grip on the Khanzi while Niels kept an arrow trained on the foe. “She is alive. She helped us very much.”

  “If he speaks again, kill him,” growled Gathelaus, as he threw back the bolt and opened the door. A foul reek of death slapped him in the face. The cell was pitch black, the faint light from the antechamber hardly daring to enter. At best Gathelaus could sense a pile of rags upon the floor some ten feet in. Entering with his sword at the ready, he whispered, “Arianna?”

  Did he hear a muffled questioning gasp came from the prostrate shroud? Unsure he grasped a ragged blanket pulling it back, revealing an emaciated body beneath. A face of alabaster skin with sunken cheeks. It was a woman, wrapped up almost like a mummy but Gathelaus could tell nothing more from its sorry existence.

  Then the eyes and mouth opened.

  The thing lashed bony fingers at Gathelaus's neck, attempting to eviscerate or strangle. Losing his sword with the first assault Gathelaus pushed back, cursing through his teeth, as he lost ground to the smaller yet incredibly strong opponent. A cold hand wrapped about his throat and squeezed.