“We must go,” Malek said, nodding to Baylan. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Carver, sir.”
“Carver, take a rest now. Give us a few minutes and we’ll be on our way.”
Walter emerged from a room opposite the dining chamber, rubbing his eyes and standing shirtless. “What’s all the commotion about?” he asked groggily. Nyset and Grimbald followed behind him. Grimbald’s shoulder was wrapped in white cloth with a hint of blood seeping through. Nyset’s face was pale and her eyes appeared sunken.
“How long have we slept?” Grimbald said, yawning. Wiggles trotted from the room and dropped into a low front leg stretch and then shook from head to wiry tail.
“Just over six hours,” Baylan said. “Come with us, there’s trouble in the King’s palace.”
Walter turned, peering through a small window and looked to the palace beyond the lattice of residential buildings. The sun was starting to set and the last of the day’s rays were bathing the rooftops below in pink. Nyset crossed her arms and visibly shivered in her shift, turning back into their bed chambers.
“Alright, let’s get dressed then,” Walter said.
“This is exciting! I’ve never been to the palace,” Grimbald said, grinning. “I woke up with the perfect name for my axe: Corpsemaker. What do you think?”
“Sounds grim, Grim,” Walter said with a chuckle. “I like it, flows off the tongue.”
“You need to stay here, boy,” Walter said, patting Wiggles. The hound whined and crawled back into Walter’s bed with a groan.
* * *
Pairs of Falcon soldiers were starting to light the street torches before night came.
“Good evening, Carver,” one of the soldiers of a pair said as the group of six passed them lighting a street torch.
Carver nodded and put his fist to his chest. Carver led the group along the cobblestone streets of the market quarters, wide enough for two carriages. People were packing up the wares on their carts and wiping down counters. Those who were fortunate enough to transition to a shop of their own were locking their front doors and flipping the ‘open’ signs to ‘closed’. A shopkeep swept debris into the street, forcing a smile and nodding at the group.
“The lights make the street look so pretty, what a brilliant idea.” Nyset said, smiling.
“The erecting of the street torches was King Ezra’s idea, a way to keep crime down at night,” Malek said as they passed a sweets shop.
“Mm. I could really go for some candy,” Grimbald said, bouncing his eyebrows and slowing at the shop’s window. A rainbow of candies sat in neatly arranged rows.
“Does it work?” Walter asked.
“To keep crime down? Well, somewhat. There are two gangs the city has been struggling to control,” Malek said, taking long strides to keep up with Carver. The ridiculous red plume on the soldier’s helmet swayed as he walked. What is the point, just makes you a target in an actual battle, Walter thought.
Carver cleared his throat. “Yeah, the Purists and the Equals have been a thorn in the Falcon’s side for a while now. It seems like the Purists have recently gained more traction around the market and Noble’s quarters.”
Grimbald caught up with the group, craning his thick neck to listen. “What do these gangs want?” Grimbald asked, dodging a stray cat.
“Well you can probably guess, or perhaps not,” Malek said, smirking at Grimbald. Grimbald adjusted his tunic and his gaze flitted around the street. He sighed quietly, looking down.
“What my friend is trying to say is that the Purists don’t like wizards, or people who can touch the god essences living in the city. They fear what they don’t understand. It’s only natural, a human condition I suppose,” Baylan said, looking at Grimbald.
“I see,” Grimbald said, trying to fit his big hands in trouser pockets far too inadequate.
“The Equals, obviously named, seek equality among the Midgaard residents. They believe, as I do, that regardless of our abilities, we should live in harmony.”
“I like this idea,” Grimbald said smiling.
They turned a corner and the street abruptly changed. Shops became giant houses, trimmed with intricate wood detail and windows that spanned the size of most doors. The uneven cobbled streets became flat tiles bound together with mortar. The frequency of torchlights seemed to have doubled as did the number of Falcon patrols. This street was cleaner and free of stray animals. It graded steeply up towards the King’s palace.
“The Noble’s quarters?” Nyset asked.
“Yes, indeed, this is the Royal road,” Malek said, meeting her eyes.
“Pst,” a sharp whisper said from an alley.
Walter stopped in his tracks. “Yes?”
Three men, dressed head to toe in white, slid from the shadows into the torchlight of the street. “Do you know who that is?” said the tallest of the three to his white companions. “Does he know magic?” the thin man to his left asked. The tall man stepped forward and spat, “Wizards. What are you lot doing with this scum? Are you a wizard too?” The man had a bald head and a bushy beard, his face a scowl.
“Me? I’m no wizard. Yes, this is Malek. He’s been a gracious host to my friends and me,” Walter said frowning. “He sure looks the part.”
Malek appeared beside him. “Did I hear one of you fine gentleman mentioning my name?”
The bearded man stepped forward and slammed a fist into Malek’s gut. The man’s hand appeared to have slipped inside of Malek, except the arm extended too far for his body to possibly contain. The man’s eyes bulged and he shrieked, removing his hand and waving it in the air. It was covered in tiny shards of glass and blood, an oddly beautiful combination, Walter thought.
The bald man and his flunkies ran down the alley, stumbling into each other. “Never trust a wizard to fight fair!” he shouted. “I told you they are devils,” said another. Grimbald released his grip on the axe, setting on his back.
Malek’s mouth formed a sadistic smile.
“You’re not helping the realm’s perception of our kind,” Baylan said with crossed arms.
Unarmed, yet they still attacked with the giant standing behind me. They either didn’t see him or they’re insane.
“Insane,” Walter muttered.
“Yeah. I think they were munching on Fang Cress,” Nyset said.
The road leading to the palace increased in grandiosity as the imposing building drew near. Each house seemed to compete with the other in ostentation. Intricate front gates and elaborate statues of the Phoenix and Dragon littered the house fronts.
“Yes, men are alike everywhere, vying for wealth and power, only to be part of the same dirt pile,” Baylan said with a half-smile. The smooth road’s steepness increased sharply. Walter’s legs were starting to burn from the effort. He looked to Nyset and she met his eyes with a smile. Sweat formed on her brow and he put his hand behind her neck, giving it a rub. She put her soft hand over his and squeezed it. He found his eyes tracing her sharp jawline and his body wanting to pin her against a wall.
The cream colored stone of the Midgaard palace finally came into view. Lining the top of it were glass baubles of incredible size, lit from within by candelabras.
A group of a dozen or so red plumed Falcon soldiers stood at the ready by the entrance. These men had hard faces, unlike those that patrolled the market and city gates. Carver raised a hand to stop the group, and then spoke with one of the guardsmen.
“This way,” Carver said with his best air of command.
Malek beckoned for the group to follow. Walter felt the eyes of the soldiers on him, surveying his form.
“Wait, they must stay here,” Carver said.
“They come,” Malek said, eyes pulsing with a glow.
“Ah, yes sir, sir Malek,” Carver said. “But you must leave your weapons here.”
Grimbald handed his axe to Carver with a sigh. Carver lurched under its weight and set it alongside a barrel of varied weapons. “How can you promise
I’ll get that back? It was a gift from my Pa,” Grimbald said.
“Cowl always remembers, yes he does,” said a grizzled old man, missing an eye and oozing puss from the socket.
Walter raised an eyebrow. Stormcaller will stay right here.
“And the rest of you now,” Cowl said with an expectant palm.
Baylan handed over his silvery dagger and Malek pulled a dagger that resembled an eagle’s talon from under his sleeve.
The gardens were a sight to behold. The courtyard exploded with color, a vivid contrast to the grays and neutrals of the streets and stonework. It was divided into four equally sized quadrants. One section was a lattice of vines that stretched ten paces into the sky. The vines were blooming with red and purple flowers the size of a man’s face. Another section had a series of gargantuan Sand Buckeyes, dormant at the moment. Walter hadn’t known plants could be so beautiful when carefully arranged. The gardeners planted them in exotic patterns that grabbed the eye. Strange trees towered over the garden with vibrant red leaves that would protect the more delicate plants from ash clouds. The air rustled through the courtyard and felt soothing against his skin.
“Wow,” Nyset said, spinning in a circle as she walked. “This is incredible! Dawn Lotus? What a beauty!” She stopped and dropped low and rubbed the back of her hand along the white petals of the cup shaped flower.
“Come along,” Carver called to her from the head of the group.
A soldier crept towards one of the Sand Buckeyes, brandishing a spear with a bleeding pig impaled upon its tip. A drop of blood fell from the pig and landed on the bulbous mouth of the plant. The plant’s mouth creaked open and strings of sticky ichor spread as it parted. The pig screeched and its legs flailed.
“Oh my, Phoenix it’s still alive,” Nyset said and placed one hand over her mouth, the other pointing at the pig.
“It has to be or they won’t eat it,” Carver said, keeping a steady pace.
With a jerk of the spear, the pig fell from the spear tip into the plant’s giant maw. The pig squealed and cried when it landed in its mouth. Walter’s jaw dropped and Nyset clapped her hands over her mouth. Grimbald worked his way beside Carver, speaking to him in a hushed voice.
The unfortunate pig’s death cries faded as they left the gardens. They passed through an archway carved in swirling tails of the Phoenix, appearing to be in motion with a cursory glance. Such craftsmanship.
They passed by the King’s throne room, power diamond marks were being used as lanterns and the walls were lined with jewels the size of Walter’s fists. The bastard has all of this, yet he can’t send a crew to fix a few bridges to the south. I now see why Dad didn’t like him.
“It looks just like the paintings!” Nyset said, bumping Walter’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” he said flatly, mouth a twisted frown.
“Only much better in person. You should see it during the day, light passes through the jewels on the walls, giving a marvelous appearance,” Baylan said.
They followed Carver down hallways with beautiful paintings of scenery beyond the Wall. They made at least eight turns and Walter was starting to lose his bearings. I think that is the point, a wise soldier. Finally Carver halted the group before a nondescript door, much like the others in the same hallway.
“The King,” Malek said softly. “Wait here.” Malek entered the room and the door slammed behind him before Walter could get a good look.
“I can’t believe we’re in the castle. What will my parents think?” Nyset said, laughing.
“Shh,” Walter said, grinning from her infectious laugh.
“My Pa was right to send me with you,” Grimbald said, smiling. “I never seen anything like this before.”
Baylan snickered softly. He waved his hand towards the hinges of the door and they briefly glowed with a blue light. He deftly inched the door open and the rusty hinges failed to give him away. Now, that is useful. The muffled conversation could now be heard.
“Let me see your wound,” Malek’s voice said behind the door.
“We put the monster in the dungeons,” said a weak voice. “You said there was no need to worry, and then this happens. We need to do something. There is a darkness in the lands, I can feel it in my bones,” King Ezra said.
“Please turn your arm, my lord. It looks okay, it should heal without a scratch,” Malek said, jovially. He sighed. “Let’s not make any rash decisions regarding the Falcon.”
“This damn bed is too small and it feels like I’m sleeping on a bed of nails. There’s not enough light in here.”
“Yes, my lord, I shall have the servants replace the mattress and bring more candles,” said a harried voice.
“And bring me a different wine, this tastes like dog urine.”
Walter edged his eye into the sliver of light that came from the cracked door. A haggard looking man in a long gown sat on a bed of red and gold. Malek stood beside the king and a faint blue light shone in a waving line on his arm.
A man in jet black armor stood with arms crossed beside the bed, watching Malek with keen eyes. On his hips were a pair of short swords, also black, and around his belt Walter counted at least four blackened daggers. The king’s Black Guard.
“Malek, you said you just increased our security, how could this have happened?” the king demanded.
“I don’t know. It will not happen again, I assure you my majesty. I will personally inspect the guard’s stations securing entrance to your quarters.”
“No, I shall not abstain any longer,” the king said, clenching his long fingers into a fist. That fist is all wrong for punching, Walter thought.
The king’s eyes glazed over and he stared into the crackling hearth. “Lajoy, tomorrow we mobilize the armies to the west and the east,” he said. The white unkempt beard covering his face did not move when he spoke. “I can’t believe it. It’s actually true, the reports spoke true. We must crush these monsters before they spread and breed and become too much trouble.” Ezra trailed off to himself, mumbling.
A hand gently grasped his shoulder, guiding him away from the parted door.
“Are you sure that’s wise, my lord?” Malek said.
Walter resisted the pull of Baylan’s hand. The king’s posture sagged and he scratched at his beard.
“Allow me to check for other wounds,” Malek said, gently placing his hand upon the king’s bald head. White translucent spines, segmented like the legs of a spider slowly materialized from the wizard’s hand and then stabbed into the king’s skull. Walter’s breath caught in his throat and he placed his hand over his mouth to block any potential sound.
“I think we should discuss this issue more before we take military action, don’t you agree my lord?”
The king stared off for a long moment, eyes unblinking. “Yes,” he whispered. “No,” he said louder, gray eyes hard with resolve.
“Warmaster, send the first battalion to the Nether and the second to Breden, and have them also comb the western coast up to the Great Retreat.”
“Yes my King,” said Lajoy. The Warmaster slammed his dark chest plate with his fist.
“These creatures, Death Spawn, shit of the Dragon, piss of the Phoenix in my house, my family!” Ezra shouted, standing with fists balled at his side. “Whoever did this will pay,” he said, sitting down on the bed, placing his hands in his lap. He stared into the fire again, muttering incoherencies.
He turned to Malek and the life returned to his eyes. He sputtered, “You, you wizard. How did you get here?”
“It is your advisor, Malek, my king.” Malek rubbed at the glowing crystal that hung from a chain around his neck.
“Ah, yes, yes that’s right. You are my advisor, that’s good, yes. Is that right? I don’t trust you, how can I if I don’t know who you are?” Ezra said, scratching a bushy eyebrow.
“My lord, you are clearly under a great deal of stress, perhaps you should think a bit more before deploying the Falcon.”
“Perhaps, yes.”<
br />
Lajoy hesitated before the door and frowned.
Walter’s gaze flicked into the black, angry, deep set eyes of the Black Guard Warmaster.
“We have ears,” Lajoy said, staring at Walter.
A hand dug into his tunic and pulled him through the door, stumbling on his feet. He came face to face with another guard decked out in midnight armor. He had long blonde hair that looked white against his helm. Walter felt the blood rush to the surface of his skin, burning and tingling all over his body.
“Who are you?” the king demanded.
The blonde Black Guard pushed him before the king. “No sudden moves,” he sneered. Like you could stop me blondie?
“Your lordship sir,” Walter dropped to one knee. “I am Malek’s companion I —”
“Were you behind this?” the king roared.
“What?” Walter blinked rapidly and turned his head to the side. He saw the two guards meet each other’s eyes, waiting for a reason to use their weapons. Lajoy’s expression changed as he looked Walter up and down. In all likelihood I’ve done something to give away my training. There was something about a warrior in the way they moved that always gave it away.
“Yeah,” the king groaned. “These monsters must be your friends.” Walter noticed that Baylan, Nyset and Grimbald had come in behind him.
“No sir, no that’s —” Walter shook his head.
“Please my lordship,” Baylan said. He turned, addressing Lajoy, “Can you see the king is ill?”
“Do not question his lordship,” the blonde guard snapped, hand on his sword hilt.
The king’s eyes wrinkled and the corners of his lips rose in a disturbing grimace. “You will find who did this or I will have your heads, all you. You have three days or your heads will roll into the guillotine basket. Do not leave the walls of Midgaard.”
Lajoy stepped close to Walter and jerked him to his feet, close enough to feel his breath. Walter didn’t find himself often intimidated by grown men. He found his body willfully complying with the Warmaster’s direction. The air of danger was heavy on this one. It was best to comply.
The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2) Page 6
