Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  "We finished the patrol. There's a few houses that back up to the wall, but other than that, I don't see any weaknesses in the defense," Sergeant Millar said. "I'm more worried that snow will pile up deep enough for them to climb over, especially over by the gate."

  Walker nodded at that. "I thought of it. We can heat water and pour it on the snow to melt it. It just becomes an issue of how much wood we have." He pointed at the roof. "Thankfully, it's a well-built highland village. Wooden peaked roofs. We can start tearing down the smaller buildings for firewood if we need it."

  Sergeant Millar gave him a nod and Walker looked at Sergeant Gorich, "Your men are out there?"

  Sergeant Gorich nodded, "Yes, four per platform, with eight near the gate in case those monsters try to force their way in." He hesitated, "The men were wondering if the Captain has a plan, yet?"

  Walker gave him a grin, "I'm sure he has. He'll have us out of here in no time, I'm sure."

  Millar and Gorich both gave him smiles in return. "Millar you should get some rest and Gorich be sure to check on your men, make sure they're awake and alert."

  He waited as they left and then he let his false grin fade. In truth, Walker felt far from confident. Fighting and killing men was one thing, spirits and the type of sorcerous monster that awaited them outside was something entirely different. Worse than both, there was something about this place that seemed to drag at him. He didn't know if it was just the hopelessness of the refugees or something spiritual or what, but there was something that set his teeth on edge.

  And that bastard Senko, Walker thought, there's something oddly familiar about him.

  Walker pulled on his cloak and stepped out into the storm. The heavy snow was already waist high on him and he cursed and swore as he waded through it to the path the others had tread. He followed that to Vuk's house, down the street. He pounded on the door for a moment.

  Walker frowned as he heard movement inside but no one answered. "Hello," he called out, "Aerion?"

  He heard a mutter of voices from inside and then Senko opened the door. His posture and stance immediately set Walker's back up. There was something wrong. Senko's right hand was low, tucked behind his back. He has a dagger that he's prepared to slash me with, Walker realized.

  Walker gave a friendly smile, "Ah, Senko, Captain Swordbreaker asked me to check with him after we placed the sentries. Have you seen him?"

  "No," Senko said. "He and... uh, Jarek, I think it is, they said they were going to check the perimeter."

  Right, Walker thought to himself, like Aerion and Jarek would prance off into this storm together. Far more likely that the two of them would have another fight.

  Walker's left hand casually dropped to his dagger. He didn't miss how Senko's eyes narrowed. Shit,Walker thought, he's really on edge. Walker had no doubts that Senko and Vuk had become his enemies. The only question he had was whether they had killed his friend or taken him captive somehow.

  He had his doubts that they could have killed Aerion easily, even taking him off guard. Certainly not quietly. Maybe if they used poison... He thought. He discarded that thought, though, Aerion wouldn't trust them enough to take their food and drink. Walker gave him a nod, "Well, I better go find him and report in." What he needed to do was find out what these bastards had done with his friend, but he would address that soon enough.

  He couldn't quite force himself to turn away, so he backed away with a smile as Senko closed the door. Walker finally turned and his shoulder blades itched as he walked away into the snow.

  Walker stopped and then nonchalantly turned and looked up and down the street. Someone would have heard if they'd killed Aerion and Jarek. Even if Aerion didn't have a chance to cry out, Walker thought, Lord Jarek wouldn't go down without a fight, too. While he disliked the young nobleman, he didn't doubt the man's ability... he just knew that Jarek was a rival of his friend. Not that I think Katarina is worthy of him, he thought, but he likes her, so that's all that matters.

  They might have trapped them or imprisoned them, Walker figured. His gaze went to the buildings nearby. The town's shrine stood across the street from Vuk's house. The other homes buildings around had occupants, but no one was in the shrine. Even without knowing why, the refugees had avoided the building.

  Walker peered around, but he didn't see tracks leading in. He glanced back at Vuk's house and thought he saw someone peering at him through one of the upper floor windows. Walker walked casually down the street ostensibly looking around for Aerion and Jarek. In reality, his mind began to go over everything he had seen in Vuk's house.

  Their accents, their style of clothing, the way they had held themselves... all of that suggested they were not from the Duchy of Masov. Their olive complexions could be from Marovingia, but Walker didn't think they came from any of the Five Duchies.

  Their complexions were too dark and they were too civilized to be Norics. Walker had fought Norics after the catastrophe at Southwatch. They might be halfbloods -- men who shared blood of the Armen -- or even from distant Aoriel, but he thought it more likely they came from Vendakara. The subcontinent lay south of the Five Duchies and its people were known to be just as hostile and treacherous as its jungle lands.

  He had met some Vendakar before, in his father's service. Many of them were caramel complexioned, but he also knew that they had a variety of cultures and peoples in their kingdom, broken down into castes and living in different pockets throughout their lands. If nothing else, he thought, Vendakar slavers take enough captives from the Five Duchies that these men might have been some of their slave fighters or have partial blood from the Five Duchies.

  Their weapons matched those he had seen of Vendakar as well, curved, slashing blades, rather than the heavier, straight blades used more commonly in the Five Duchies.

  If they had somehow trapped or captured Aerion and Jarek, it would have required subterfuge and isolation. Walker made a circuit of the building, staying out of sight as much as possible. He saw many tracks in the snow, but none looked to be anything out of the ordinary, and certainly there were no bloodstains or drag marks to suggest they had disposed of his friend.

  They'd have to drag Aerion, he thought with a smirk, the big fool probably outweighs any two of them and even on short rations he's still growing. His smirk faded then as he remembered some of the uglier rumors about the Vendakar. Ritualistic cannibalism was not only popular among their higher castes, it was seen as a way to worship one or both of their gods. It might well also answer why Vuk's men were so well-fed compared to the other refugees.

  Walker's circuit had brought him back to the village shrine, still empty in the deepening snow. He looked at it and frowned. Aerion had once mentioned that many of the highland towns and villages had tunnels connecting homes and businesses for use during the heavy snows of winter. It let them continue their work when they would otherwise be walled in under ten or more feet of snow. What if Vuk's people had found one such tunnel? That would let them move their captives elsewhere in the town, outside of sight.

  It couldn't connect to one of the occupied buildings or else they would risk being noticed. The shrine, he thought, people avoided it before and with Aerion's words, no one will go near it.

  Walker felt a temptation to go and get some of Ghost Company's men, yet he didn't trust them to move as quietly as he could. If anything alerted Vuk, he might kill his captives.

  Walker drew his sword and dagger and slowly began to work his way towards the shrine, careful to stay out of sight. Aerion, he thought, you had better be there.

  ***

  Aerion Swordbreaker

  "I think I'm blind," Jarek said as Aerion felt around the edges of the door.

  "You aren't," Aerion said, "its pitch black in here." More the pity, he thought angrily. Maybe if the fool went blind then Katarina wouldn't marry him.

  He gave off his efforts at the door and knelt down next to it. After a moment he pulled a flint, steel, and tender out of his belt pouch. He str
uck flint to steel and squinted his eyes against the bright sparks. After a moment, the tender caught and Aerion blew gently to nurse the flame. He looked around and spotted the peg of wood that Senko had dropped. After a minute he had shaved some splinters off it and used those to sustain and grow the small flame.

  Jarek had put his back to the wall, his hands over his eyes. Aerion felt a moment of concern, but he brushed that off. "Here, let me see," Aerion said.

  He pulled Jarek's hands aside and then couldn't help but wince. The burning wood must have struck Jarek just over his right eye, for he sported a red welt and his eyebrow had been singed away. Whether some sparks had gotten in his eyes or not, Aerion couldn't tell, because the swelling had already closed his right eye. Jarek's left eye looked red and irritated, but not nearly so swollen. The nobleman asked, "How bad?"

  "You'll be fine. We should probably cover it," Aerion said gruffly. He didn't know enough to say if Jarek would lose the eye or not. He pulled a strip of cloth out of his belt pouch and then wrapped it around Jarek's face, covering his right eye and the burned part of his skin. It would have to do for now. "How about you tend to the fire while I look for a way to get us out of here," Aerion said, moving over to put some more splinters onto the tiny flame. Its light seemed pathetic in the inky blackness that surrounded them.

  "Why?" Jarek asked, his voice wooden. "What's the point? We'll die here, just like those villagers." The nobleman sighed, "Even if we don't, those beasts out there will kill us."

  Aerion turned and went to stand over the other man, "No," Aerion said, "we aren't going to die here." Even if Jarek wanted to, Aerion wouldn't let him. Katarina had assigned him to Aerion, which meant that Aerion would do his best to get the man back alive.

  "It's no use," Jarek said.

  Aerion felt a spike of rage and reached down to catch Jarek by the front of his armor. He hauled the other man to his feet and then slammed his back against the wall. "I said, tend to the fire, I'll get us out of here!" Aerion snapped.

  "You've done a stand-up job so far!" Jarek shouted back and knocked Aerion's hands away. "Leading us down here into such an obvious trap. Tell me, is this why you've made such a name for yourself? Getting so many of your people killed?"

  "I have had enough of you," Aerion grabbed at the other man and for a moment they grappled. "Your stupid, arrogant, nobility! You thought this was all a game, did you, now look where we are!"

  "Is that why you hate me?" Jarek demanded. "Because I'm a nobleman? Do you have any idea how much I've hated those duties? Can you even comprehend how much I envy you your freedom?"

  "My freedom..." Aerion spat. He shoved Jarek back against the wall and then leaned into him. "Tell me about my freedom, as a bastard-born commoner. Tell me how you envy commoners when they're starving and cold in the winter." Aerion shook his head, "No, while that would be enough, that's not why I hate you."

  "Why, then!?" Jarek shouted. "Since the first day you met me you never said a civil word to me. I could tell that you viewed me with suspicion since the day we met. Since I joined your company, it seems like even that has festered into barely restrained hate. Is it what my brother did to you? You must know now what my family tried to hide, that he's got the wit of a child and that Hector's men controlled him."

  Aerion looked away, for he had heard the rumors.

  "If not that, then what?" Jarek snapped. "My wealth, my connections, what is it that you so envy about me?"

  "It's none of that!" Aerion exploded. "I overheard you and Katarina talking, about your wedding plans!"

  "What?" Jarek's face showed only confusion, "Why should that even effect anything--"

  "You're marrying Lady Katarina!" Aerion's face went pale as he realized what he had said.

  "No," Jarek shook his head, "We were finalizing my wedding plans for my marriage to Lady Eustasia, Lord Jack's sister..." The nobleman trailed off. "Why would you even care if I were to marry Katarina?"

  Aerion, though, just shook his head, too stunned to speak. If that is true... Then he had been an idiot. A complete idiot.

  "You poor bastard," Jarek said, his voice filled with pity. "You love her, then?" It was all that Aerion could do to nod. "You know she is betrothed to Lord Garrel, right?"

  "Yes, but she doesn't love him," Aerion said. "And you and she had a connection, so I thought..." Somehow saying the words aloud made it all seem so petty and stupid.

  "Does Katarina know?" Jarek asked.

  Aerion just nodded in reply.

  "I'll not ask if she feels the same way," Jarek shook his head. "Ancestors, that's a mess."

  Aerion went over to the small fire and fed some pieces into it. At the moment all he wanted to do was put his boot over it and hide his shame and frustration in darkness. But he couldn't afford to do that. He didn't have enough tender to start another fire, this was their only light source.

  "Aerion," Jarek said, "I swear to you, even if I weren't to marry Lady Eustasia, I wouldn't marry Katarina. We do have a connection, one of childhood friendship... but I don't see her that way. I could not mistake the feelings I have for Eustasia for my friendship with Katarina." Jarek sighed, "I wish I was there with her, now."

  Somehow the sympathy in Jarek's voice actually made Aerion feel a little better. "Yeah, well that makes two of us." Somehow that sounded hilarious. All this time I've hated him and he's not actually that bad a person, Aerion thought, well... for a nobleman. He found himself chuckling and a moment later he heard Jarek snort with laughter. The darkness around them seemed to retract ever so slightly.

  "So," Jarek said after a moment, "How do we get out of here?"

  Aerion looked over at him, "Well," he said, "I haven't yet tried a weapon on the door, but I'm.... hesitant to do so."

  Jarek nodded, "Senko said it was strengthened." The nobleman drew his own sword, "My blade is runic, a family heirloom..."

  Aerion shrugged, "So is mine. The shield I have, too. But I don't know how they might react to whatever this Shivenkaru person did."

  "Not really a person," Jarek said softly. "I've read up some on gods. They're like spirits, but they're born as normal people. They're similar to Noric demons, able to manipulate spiritual energy."

  "Where does that leave us?" Aerion asked.

  Jarek gave a wry grin, "I'm not really sure."

  Aerion left off the fire and walked a slow circuit around the room. There didn't seem to be any other exits. He shied away from the altar and its rust-red stains. He knew his shield had the power to blast down a normal door, but he hesitated to use it in the close confines of the room, especially since he didn't know how the door was "strengthened."

  Similarly, the Starblade, even broken, should be able to cut through the door. Yet Aerion hesitated to do anything that might further damage the blade.

  "Okay," Aerion said, "So this Shivenkaru goddess took over this place, right?" Jarek nodded as he tended the tiny flame. They were running out of wood splinters, Aerion saw. "How did she do that, then? Spirits are bound to places, right? At least, Watkowa's spirit is bound to the village and the mountain. How did this goddess gain a foothold here?"

  Jarek said, "Gods are bound to flesh, their own bodies or their followers." He shrugged, "I think that's how it works, anyway."

  "Right," Aerion said, "that makes sense, I guess, but there weren't any followers of her here, not for cycles. Her presence should have faded when the village was abandoned, right? No people, no anchor, right?"

  "Yes," Jarek nodded. "What about an object, though?"

  Aerion nodded slowly. The ancient legends of the Dragon Kings had told of objects imbued with the power of spirits, of talismans that acted as spiritual focuses. "Something small, something that corrupted the local spirit and preyed off of the villagers."

  "Maybe that sapped at their will to live or turned them on one another," Jarek said. "When I was here in the dark, I felt... hopeless. Then when you got angry, it was everything I could do not to attack you."

  "Yeah," Ae
rion nodded, thinking back. He hadn't felt the hopelessness, but he had felt the anger. Now that he thought about it, he could almost feel something, like a pressure at the back of his head. As he focused on it, he almost thought he heard a whisper, a cold voice in the back of his mind...

  "Aerion!" Jarek snapped.

  Aerion blinked, startled to find that he had walked towards the altar and even drawn his dagger. Just what he would have done with it, he didn't know. He sheathed it and put his hand on the pommel of the Starblade and it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Aerion backed away from the altar. "There's something there," Aerion said.

  "Yes," Jarek replied, "and I think we should leave it alone."

  Aerion didn't respond. He worried that --whatever it was-- it wouldn't leave them alone.

  ***

  First Sergeant Walker

  Dawnspring's shrine stood a little above the rest of the village on a slight rise. It was a simple, one-roomed building. Walker peered into the cold, gloomy room. He saw no signs of anyone.

  He was about to turn away when he caught a hint of movement in the deepest shadows of the corner. Walker froze and slowly turned his attention there, without moving so as to draw anyone's attention.

  What he sensed was more something that he felt than saw. It was an oily feeling, like whale grease, something that seemed to stick to him just by being near it. The more he focused on it, the more leaden he felt. It was like a heavy weight had settled on his shoulders...

  An icy gust of wind struck him and blew cold air down his back and he blinked and realized that he had walked into the shrine. Walker shivered as he realized that it wasn't a person he had seen... but the spirit of this place.

  As he backed away, it formed into a small, dark mist in front of him. ...wait...

  Walker paused on the threshold. The voice had been in his mind, yet it didn't sound powerful, it sounded weak. It sounded like it could barely form words.

  Aerion had told him that Southwatch had felt powerful. Surely if this spirit had the power to kill the village's occupants, it should feel that way...right?