Fazhrae lurched back to his feet and thrust a boot out towards his attacker’s head. Much to his surprise however his assailant raised his hands and caught his foot before it could make contact. The wicked stiletto was thrust into his knee and Fazhrae fell back to the floor, open-mouthed as he looked at the wound in horror. The intruder wrenched the blade free and advanced on the King, his face now a mask of rage while the Sovereign crawled backwards in the vain hope that he could find a way out of this predicament. Fazhrae’s attacker continued to glower ominously at the King as he advanced on him, step by inexorable step. He dropped to his knees beside the wounded King, savouring the moment as Fazhrae gasped in agonised bursts.
“You have some fight in you your majesty,” the mysterious individual sneered. “I would use the cliché that this is just business but I’m definitely going to enjoy killing you.”
“Why are you doing this?” Fazhrae gasped questioningly.
“I’m doing it because it has been decreed. Your death serves a greater cause that neither of us will truly understand. But it is not our place to. My purpose is to act and yours is to die.”
King Fazhrae opened his mouth to retort but the assassin silenced him by seizing him by the throat and squeezing relentlessly. The Sovereign scrabbled in the assassin’s iron grip as he struggled to fight his way out, squirming frantically but to no avail. He continued to writhe desperately, his face turning a shade of blue before the assassin dropped the blade into the King’s neck and blood gushed forth with every beat of his heart. The assassin let go of his victim and allowed Fazhrae to grip his sliced jugular in vain and in a matter of seconds his eyes rolled back and he fell limp. The killer looked scornfully down at the King and looked as the life drained from him before turning on his heel, leaving his bloody corpse behind in a mangled heap.
***
Trelech crossed into the courtyard of the Keep and looked up at the small Chapel that had been left to languish. Vines grew thickly over its walls and in places the mortar was crumbling away from the surrounding stonework. He gazed at its exterior intently for the first time and took in every crack and even worn brick. Trelech walked to the door of the Chapel and shoved it open forcefully, the wood buckling with audible crunches until the rusty hinges finally gave way. Before him the small space lacked the splendour and regalia of the temple to the Efealtor Gods but he could see that it had at least provided the inspiration for its design. Either side of the structure was lost in the gloom beneath low vaulted ceilings. Mouldering benches sat forlornly in these recesses and as Trelech placed a hand on one of them it disintegrated at his touch, throwing up a cloud of dust.
A central aisle led to a large Dragon statue that acted as the altar but Trelech couldn’t help noticing that, unlike the other remnants of furniture and decoration, the statue was largely untouched and was in relatively immaculate condition. The sculpture depicted the winged serpent rearing up on its hind legs with its vast wings stretched out like a curtain. The eyes were dull compared to the rest of the statue and as Trelech leaned in to study it in greater detail he saw that gems of some description had been set into the eye sockets but they were devoid of colour.
The Akanthiri King reached a hand up towards the sculpture. The gem in his chest grew hot and the eyes of the stone dragon lit up suddenly with the same red hue that burned across his torso. Trelech felt the power coursing through him and his mind was afire with images of people long dead reaching out to similar altars and it was as if the shard was revealing ancient secrets to the malevolent King. As fast as they had come the images receded once more but his chest constricted from the unbearable heat that increased in intensity. He placed his outstretched limb on the Dragon’s maw and suddenly he felt it come alive at his touch.
Inside his mind’s eye Trelech saw himself being lifted over the clouds, racing into the atmosphere until the continent of Efealtor stretched out far below him. The spires of Mal Ithir were lost from view and the jewel of the East became little more than a dot. Slowly, at first, the landscape began to move under him until the mountains and forests shot by as he drifted westward. The spine of Efealtor, the Belegraad mountains, hove into view before they too were left far behind. In the distance the western coastline was visible and the ground approached rapidly as Trelech descended from the heavens with incredible momentum. A small speck of a city grew ever larger as he rushed toward it until finally Trelech was able to recognise it as Tirgaal, the city that shared its namesake with the country in which it resided. The Akanthiri monarch drifted over the buildings until he hovered over the roof of a squalid structure on the city’s edge until he was gazing upon a statue that was almost identical to the one that stood before him in the real world.
Half a world away a robed procession shuffled past the Dragon altar that Trelech was gazing upon. One of the cultists at the rear pulled up short and looked at the Dragon, as if called by an insatiable desire to reach out towards it. The hooded figure stepped away from its fellow Draconis Legium members and walked up to it and placed a hand on the sculpture. At that particular moment the cultist experienced the same otherworldly trip that Trelech had just undergone until they were looking at the new Akanthiri Sovereign as if they were standing nose to nose. Trelech too found himself across from the robed person and the effect was unsettling.
“So, this is how they talk over such long distances,” Trelech murmured in astonishment.
“Who are you? Where is Kalythyll?” the robed form asked, pushing back a hood to reveal the Cultist mage Arlydd from within its confines.
“Who are you to be directing questions to me?” Trelech huffed aggressively in response. “I am the King of Akanthir and sole master of the gem shards.”
“You’re Trelech!?” Arlydd exclaimed. Instantly she prostrated herself before the altar. In spite of the distance between them, Trelech smiled exultantly at this display of devotion. “Forgive me Lord, I did not know you would bless me with an audience. I am Arlydd and I am honoured to be speaking to Althanir’s earthly vessel and by his will you’ll best the pretender from Maleardhus.”
“I’m glad you show the appropriate amount of respect. Who is this pretender that you speak of?” Trelech enquired quizzically.
“You do not know? It was my understanding that Kalythyll was to inform you of the true nature of the Heartstone and what it meant to be chosen.”
“This is most interesting. He seems to have decided not to do so. I will have to speak with him on this matter,” replied Trelech in an ominously quiet tone. “Why don’t you enlighten me instead.”
“I met the champion of the blue shard on my way to Tirgaal. He tried to use its power but, unlike you, he was too weak and feeble to stop me. He won’t halt our plans; I’ll make sure of it.”
“There’s another who possesses a gem shard?” Trelech spat with incredulity. “Kalythyll told me nothing of this.”
“Yes Lord, a man who hails from Maleardhus. He has a band of followers to aid him.”
“Ythelians? So, the old enemy returns. Continue.”
“Yes Lord,” replied Arlydd. The cultist mage spoke at length, telling Trelech everything about the prophecy; events that had unfolded in the White City and of the attack on the road to Tirgaal. He listened with a neutral expression but a lip curled at various points and gradually his anger began to boil. “So, I opened a portal to Tirgaal. That was two weeks ago. I expect that he and his band will be arriving soon and I’ve been waiting for instructions on how to proceed,” she finished.
“Why did you not just use a portal to travel to Tirgaal at once and risk exposing the order and my part in it?”
“I was unaware of Kalythyll’s wishes until I spoke with him using the shrine in the Melethynne Forest. After I made contact, I was instructed to make for Tirgaal. As for the attack on the road, my brethren had been disabled and the spell to cast the portal only allows me to use it. Anybody else who tries to enter is killed. It acts as a failsafe to prevent anyone from following me through,” Arl
ydd explained.
“I see. Based on what you have told me, Kalythyll cannot be trusted and I will have to take a more active role if I want to see my plans come to fruition. I have an idea as to how to use this new knowledge to my advantage and if you aid me well in this, I may have more use for you.”
“Of course, Lord. I shall do anything that you desire.”
“Excellent. Serve me well and I shall invite you to take Kalythyll’s place at my side. Now here is what I want you to do.”
***
Teobrin’s eyelids fluttered open and he took in the sights of the room around him. The room was sparsely furnished and the walls had been whitewashed. Except for the bed that the young watchman was laying on there was only a small bedside table and a chair to the left while on the right a curtain had been drawn and it obscured his view to whatever lay beyond. He called out as he sat upright in the bed but nothing happened. Teobrin shouted again and the curtain was whipped back to reveal Idrahil and the young man felt his heart skip a beat as he finally saw someone that he recognised.
“He’s awake,” she shouted over her shoulder before rounding the bed and taking a seat in the chair. “How are you feeling Teobrin?”
“I feel fine,” Teobrin replied uncertainly. “My head is throbbing though.”
“You took a nasty blow, try not to move too much.”
Teobrin smiled weakly as Idrahil leaned over him to check on the bandages that were wrapped tightly around his head and the swelling had decreased in size significantly. As the young woman checked on Teobrin’s condition footfalls were heard before Ydari and Lothram lumbered their way into view. As the Sergeant approached, he awkwardly shuffled his feet and looked about winsomely before clapping Teobrin on the shoulder playfully. Teobrin shrank back from the unexpected display of joviality but before long he couldn’t help himself and beamed back a huge smile.
“We thought you were done for,” Lothram remarked conversationally. Idrahil shot him an irritated expression and this instantly silenced the Sergeant who merely shrugged his shoulders and elbowed his way past to allow Ydari to step forward.
“Really? That wasn’t much of a conversation starter was it?” Ydari asked witheringly, accompanied with an eye roll.
“We’re talking, aren’t we?”
“He’s got a point,” Teobrin added helpfully from the bed.
“No, he doesn’t. He would if I stabbed him,” replied the Captain mockingly. “How are you doing Teobrin? Feeling better?”
“Yes sir. What happened?”
“You got hit in the head and we brought you to a clinic just on the other side of the border. You’ve been unconscious for over a week. I have sent Keal and Raelynne on ahead to Tirgaal to scout and to give me some peace and quiet,” explained the Captain, shooting a loaded expression at Lothram as he said the last part.
“Can I help sir?”
“You can by getting better. We’ll catch up to them when you’re feeling better. Tomorrow if you’re up for it.”
“Ooh yes sir. I can’t wait,” the young man enthused animatedly.
“Good man,” Ydari responded, patting him on the shoulder.
“Can I have a word?” asked Idrahil, directing it at Ydari. He motioned for Idrahil to join him as he moved away from the bed as he caught her questioning glance. The pair of them backed out of the room a distance before the young woman rounded on him. “What is it you’re not telling me?” she inquired when they were finally alone.
“It’s nothing, I’m just making sure Teobrin is alright,” Ydari replied evasively.
“You and I both know there’s something you’re keeping to yourself,” the young woman declared. “I know you care about the welfare of your officers but this is unlike you to be fussing so much. You’ve been by his bedside every day since we brought him to this clinic.”
“Alright, I’ll tell you but this remains between us,” Ydari said conspiratorially. He looked over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before he continued. “It’s like this. Teobrin is the half-brother to Queen Elhara. She asked me to take care of him when he joined the watch so I was just living up to the promise I made all those years ago.”
“You’re joking right?” Idrahil looked baffled and somewhat amused by what she had just been told but Ydari’s expression remained frozen and it quickly dawned on her that what he had said had been the truth. “You’re not joking! How did this happen?”
“When a mommy and daddy love each other very much…” Ydari started dryly.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I’m asking.”
“Fine, fine. Elhara’s father always had a fondness for pretty faces and although nobody can be sure, it’s likely he fathered more children. Teobrin is a rare exception since we know for certain that the old King is his father. The Queen found out years ago and, while she didn’t want the knowledge to be made public, she made me swear to take care of the oafish buffoon when I left her service.”
“So that’s why you always kept him around. What happened in the brains department though? The old King was so intellectually inclined and, no offence to Teobrin, he could lose a battle of wits to a mushroom.”
“I have no idea on that front. My best guess, he inherited his father’s looks and his mother’s wits.”
“Perhaps.”
“You are to tell no one. Understood?”
“Alright. I promise.”
“Good,” Ydari said simply. “We’ll leave at first light if Teobrin can handle it. We’ve lost too much time as it is.”
The Watch Captain nodded to Idrahil and turned on his heel and left to walk down the corridor. The young woman returned to Teobrin’s room whilst Ydari walked past a couple of orderlies as they went about their duties and passed through a door that led outside. He took a few steps into the space beyond and surveyed his surroundings. The structure was a small square building enclosed around a central courtyard. Large buckets of water had been placed and recently cleaned sheets hung on washing lines. Windows all around the two-storey building opened out and occasionally a glimpse of other patients could be seen looking through them.
Ydari began to pace as he became lost in thought and restlessness. Angst built up within him daily at having let Arlydd escape and the realisation that the woman had free reign in Tirgaal to carry out whatever nefarious plans that had been put into motion gnawed at Ydari. Despite this, he had been glad that Teobrin had been well enough to make the journey to this clinic and that he was now almost fully recovered. The clinic itself lay just inside the Tirgaalian border and as such, many soldiers of that nation came here for treatment, particularly in times of war. It was also a chapter of the Tirgaalian School of Medicine and many collegiate trained and practised here, honing their knowledge and skills before working throughout the Western Kingdoms or passing their wisdom onto the next generation of doctors and nurses.
Kael and Raelynne had travelled to Tirgaal’s capital, Tirgaal City. That had been a few days after their arrival and they had not yet returned with word of what they had discovered and Ydari secretly hoped that they had made some headway in their search, in spite of having precious little to go on. The waiting was the worst part for Ydari. He had grown restive from not actively hunting the Tirgaal chapter of the Draconis Legium and his inability to aid in the recovery of the young watchman and a palatable feeling of uselessness had threatened to overcome him more than once. Idrahil had played a crucial part in helping him to keep a close vigil on Teobrin while he had slept. Even Lothram, despite his gruff nature, had softened somewhat and he seemed shaken from the encounter with the mage, Arlydd. Ydari shook his head as he banished these thoughts from his mind.
The rest of the day and most of the next morning had followed the humdrum activities that had become almost routine since they had brought an injured Teobrin here. He had slept well but this had been of little comfort and so it was a great relief when on that morning he saw Teobrin walking about outside, albeit a little shakily. Idrahil hovered by closely
and her arms went up with every stumble and trip protectively. Behind her Lothram rolled his eyes theatrically. In spite of the turmoil of thoughts inside his brain, Ydari couldn’t help but smile at the comedic display as he brought the horses round to the clinic’s main entrance. A female doctor surveyed her patient’s steps and as the minutes dragged on, Teobrin’s gait became steadier with each step.
“I really think he should spend a few more days here to fully recuperate,” the Doctor advised.
“I’m fine,” Teobrin called out with a wide grin.
“I understand your concerns but we have pressing business in Tirgaal. Thank you for your help. Here, a token of my gratitude,” Ydari replied, hefting a coin pouch into the Doctor’s hand.
“Can we go already? He’s probably just faking it,” Lothram shrilled hoarsely.
“He isn’t so just shut it,” Idrahil retorted.
“Thank you again for your help,” Ydari repeated to the Doctor, ignoring the exchange behind him.
Ydari mounted his steed and waited a moment for his companions to join him. A couple of minutes passed as Teobrin uncertainly swung a leg over his own horse before settling into position. The young watchman nodded enthusiastically again. His simplistic understanding of the world gave Teobrin a zeal for life which Ydari secretly envied. Nothing troubled him and it seemed an easier existence than the troubling uncertainty that lay ahead. Teobrin waved at the Doctor cheerfully as the four watchmen nudged their mounts forwards into a canter and soon the clinic had been left far behind. The countryside that passed by the foursome was visually stunning, the ribbon of the Belegraad Mountains far off on the right-hand side and they sparkled in the magnificent weather that had held firmly through Teobrin’s recovery. The mountainous peaks were soon lost from view as the main highway veered off to the right and continued winding its way to Tirgaal City.
The Fractured Heartstone Page 19
