The sound of stone striking tinder echoed off the walls and the light that appeared before him seemed to shine brighter than any light he had ever seen. It outlined all the men who had entered his domain and amongst them, Lord Ivran was unmistakable.
He stood taller than most of his men. His hair was long and dark, along with his beard but his eyes were bright and shining in the firelight. His armor glowed as though it was made from gold and his sword was held at his side with pride. The blade was thick and long, making King Firion’s look like nothing more than the small, blunt blades the new recruits of his army used during their training. He looked down to his blade in shame and wondered how his father had been able to carry it around with such pride. The man was a fool! He told himself. He looked back up to Lord Ivran, determined not to let the sight of his blade frighten him. His blade may be larger than mine, but is his skill better than mine own? He would find out soon enough.
“Welcome, traitors, to my home!” He shouted. All the men stopped and looked up to the throne where the King was sitting. Lord Ivran’s eyes fell upon the King and only for a moment did he stare at the man in bewilderment before cocking his head to the side and bellowing out a loud and deafening laughter. He clutched at his sides as he laughed at the King. King Firion found Lord Ivran’s amusement infuriating. It took all his strength to not jump from his throne and split the man’s throat open.
“Your Highness!” Lord Ivran said mockingly once he was able to contain his laughter. “I thought it would take some time to find you. After all, your army is dead, your castle has been breached and you now stand alone against my thousands. But here you are, delivering yourself to me as though you are a prize for my victory.”
“I am here for all to witness the true place of a King. Here I sit, in my throne and you are my subjects. I demand that you bow to me at once or I shall deliver unto you your just punishments!”
At this, the entire room was filled with laughter. All of Lord Ivran’s men joined in his humorous chortle. The laughter echoed off the walls and bounced into King Firion’s ears, making his face grow hot with anger.
“Enough!” He shouted above the laughter and he stood from his throne as he yelled. “If you think you are worthy to bestow upon me your judgment then let your blade speak for you! I will let my blade speak for me as well.” King Firion held up his sword and at this, the laugher stopped.
Lord Ivran cleared his throat and took one step forward. “And why should I grant you a trial of blades when you are so very outnumbered? It is time for this realm to be free of your tyranny. The people are ready to be rid of you.”
“Are you not a man of valor, Lord Ivran Cassius? Wouldn’t your throne be better won with the tip of your sword?” King Firion sneered at his opponent, knowing that his words had snared Lord Ivran into a duel.
He raised his sword up for all to see and stepped down from his throne, facing the man who meant to steal it from him without fear. He looked to Lord Ivran, who stood a whole foot taller than himself, and glowered, knowing that the anger he felt then would guide his hand to end their battle quickly. And when Lord Ivran lay at his feet bleeding, he would remove his head from his shoulders and raise it up high for all to see. And then the realm would know who their rightful King was. He would show these men that he was not to be trifled with. And once they retreated, he would send his new High Protector- whoever that might be- to all the corners of the realm. He would have their beloved cities and homes burned, their children enslaved and their women stolen from them. He would show this realm the meaning of a true tyrant.
“So be it.” Lord Ivran said and he raised his sword as well.
“My Lord,” a man from the shadows stepped forward and King Firion recognized Protector Stanwyck Wymon at once. “Do you think this wise?”
“I have made my decision, Protector Stanwyck. Now step back and do not interfere. Let the true victor reign.”
Stanwyck stared long and hard at Lord Ivran before turning and walking back to the dark corner from which he had appeared. King Firion turned his attention away from Stanwyck and back to his true enemy. Protector Stanwyck will be the next to lose his head, along with all these men. I shall hang their heads from the battlements.
Lord Ivran’s men shuffled towards the edges of the room to give them enough space for their duel. King Firion did not doubt his victory as he looked into the eyes of the man he was about to kill. He could see a cloud of death hanging over Lord Ivran’s head, ready to take him at any moment. All King Firion had to do was drive the point of his blade into Lord Ivran’s flesh and it would all be over. The realm will be mine once more. He smiled deviously at his opponent.
Lord Ivran let out a loud bellow that rang in King Firion’s ears and bounced off the walls. It echoed throughout the chamber as his enemy rushed towards him. King Firion dodged Lord Ivran’s sword with ease, turned and sliced at the bull of a man as he rushed past him. He felt the blade find bare flesh and slice it open. Lord Ivran’s bellow of rage turned into a cry of pain as he pulled away and turned back to Firion. He did not even look down to examine the wound on his arm as he raised his sword once more.
King Firion prepared himself for the attack. He stepped to the side and felt the ripple of strength that Lord Ivran forced his blade down with. It shook his arms, threatening to make him loosen his grip on his sword. He held fast to it, however, and pulled it free of Lord Ivran’s hold. He spun quickly, before Lord Ivran knew what he was doing, and struck where his armor was the weakest.
A collective gasp filled the room as Lord Ivran fell to his knees. All who were witnessing watched in horror as their hero knelt before their King, holding his side and gasping for air. King Firion stood tall and proud and saw where the wound bled. Lord Ivran tried his best to hold in the blood but it seeped through his fingers and dripped onto the floor all the same.
As King Firion raised his sword to finish his opponent, a strange breeze seemed to come in through the open doors. He felt the cool air on his face and a sudden desire overcame him to close his eyes.
There was the faintest of voices whispering in the wind- like a ghost, calling to the living ear. It filled his senses and warmed his heart. He could feel its warmth pressing down on him and pulling his anger away. He closed his eyes and tried desperately to hold onto this feeling. It was a strange sensation- one he had not felt in many years. It was a feeling of peace and hopefulness. It washed over him and wrapped itself around him like a blanket. And all of a sudden, his anger was gone. He could feel his sword arm lowering to the ground but did not care. His heart filled with joy. It was as though a dark cloud had been hovering over him for many years, forcing him to act against his will- forcing him to hurt all those around him. But now the cloud was gone and he suddenly felt as light as the air itself and wondered if he could float away.
What is happening to me? He wondered. He tried to remember the last time he had felt this way and was able to bring the memory forward.
It was many years ago, when he was just a small boy. He had accompanied his father into the city for their annual greeting of the people of Axendra. It wasn’t just the people of Axendra though, people from all over the realm used to travel there just to see the King riding through the streets, waving at his subjects. There had not been a greeting since his father had died.
It was the first greeting Firion had attended and he remembered looking out to the crowd proudly, hoping that he would someday become just as loved as his father was.
King Firion shuddered suddenly as the memory revealed the source of the darkness that had taken hold of him. She had been standing in the crowd with a shawl covering most of her face but he could clearly see Queen Scarlet’s eyes peering out at him. She was a woman grown, even all those years ago and King Firion knew then that she had placed a curse on him. And all memories of happiness and goodness faded from his mind and from that day forward, his eyes had been clouded with her evil intent.
The King opened his eyes and realized that
all were staring at him in wonderment. He stood with his sword in hand, towering over his injured enemy but had not made a move to end their fight. He knew it must have seemed odd to them but he cared not. He was elated with the knowledge that the Queen’s curse had been broken and she no longer held any power over him.
What have I done? He suddenly wondered. I have destroyed this realm! I have murdered innocent people! He felt his grip on his sword loosen and it fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Everything my father had worked for during his reign is gone because of me! I have ruined his legend.
Lord Ivran looked up to the King confusedly but stood when he saw that Firion would not advance.
King Firion began to shake uncontrollably. He let out a wail of sorrow as he fell to his knees. He covered his face with his hands and cried as he had never cried before. He cried like a man who had just lost everything. He cried as though the world around him had fallen apart and he was the only one left amongst the shambles.
Confused as Lord Ivran was, he would not let the King fool him into thinking that he felt remorse. He kicked the King’s sword away from him and held his own blade to the soft flesh of the King’s throat.
“King Firion Elyas, for the crimes you have committed against the people of this realm, for all the lives that have been wastefully taken at your command, I, Lord Ivran Cassius of Ylia sentence you to die!”
“Noooo!” The King shouted and he threw his hands up in the air to beg for forgiveness. “Please, I did not mean… I couldn’t have known!” And then he began to cry uncontrollably. He looked up to his executioner with tear-stained eyes and pleaded to be forgiven.
“I am sorry! I am sorry for it all! I never, in my right mind, would have committed such horrible atrocities! Please believe me, for I now see the truth. I have been blind!”
“Forgiveness is not mine to give.” Lord Ivran said in a hushed tone, wondering what could have possibly made the King have such a change of heart. The only thing that made any sense to him was that the King had come to the realization he was greatly outnumbered and even if he had succeeded in their duel, death would still find him. And so he had changed tactic and decided to beg for his life instead.
“Please!” The King said once more in a hushed tone. The tears that fell from his eyes were the tears of regret for a life that had been stolen from him. It was a life he had had no intention of living- one that was forced upon him by an evil Sorceress.
“I could have been a good King.” He whispered. When he saw that Lord Ivran had no intention of letting him live, he let his hands dangle limply at his sides.
Lord Ivran took in a long, shallow breath as he pulled his blade away from the King. Firion looked up and turned his head slightly, trying not to watch as the blade was brought back down to remove his head from his shoulders, and there he saw her.
She stood in the doorway of one of the servant’s entrances, watching the events unfold in silence. Her black armor made her almost invisible against the blackness of the hallway behind her but King Firion could see her pale face peering at him like a ghost. He knew that he truly had been cured of the Queen’s curse because not even the sight of Rhada invoked the slightest amount of anger in him. Instead he felt remorse for commanding her to do his evil will. He knew he had destroyed her life, just as he had destroyed the lives of everyone who lived under his rule.
“Help me.” He whispered to her, knowing that she could see the plea on his lips but she made no move to rush to his aid. Instead, the smallest of smiles appeared on her lips as the blade was brought back down with extreme force, putting an end to the Firion’s reign.
Chapter 28
Stanwyck stood motionless as he watched Lord Ivran reach down, grasp King Firion’s head by the hair and raise it up high for all to see. The men around him began to cheer for joy at their liberation of the King’s rule and even Stanwyck could not help but show a small grin at the King’s demise.
He saw it from the corner of his eye- the slightest movement from the shadows beyond the great hall. As the men around him cheered and congratulated each other on their victory, Protector Stanwyck turned his head slightly just in time to see a wisp of black cloak disappear into the abyss beyond the lit room.
He turned back to Lord Ivran, making certain that he was not being watched and slowly stepped back towards the servant’s entrance. Once there, he turned quickly, drawing his blade as he did so and began rushing through the darkness and towards the enemy he knew lurked there.
Rhada made her way down the stairs as quickly as possible. She knew that Lord Ivran’s men had already begun flooding the hallways below and she also knew that she stood little chance of reaching her destination, but she had to try. Bloodbinder would not stop buzzing violently in her hand and she could not rest until the blade was safe.
She turned a corner and began descending the next flight when something caught her eye. A man had moved from the stairs and shuffled into the shadows. She glanced his way without alerting him and was surprised to see Emeric trying to hide from her view. She knew where he was going and decided she would not hinder him.
Emeric kept his hand fastened to the hilt of his sword as she passed but did not draw his blade. She knew he was afraid that she would attack him but she passed without letting him know she’d acknowledged his presence.
He is on his way to take revenge upon the Queen. And why should I stop him? Her duty was to protect the King and Queen of Axendra and to give her life for theirs if need be. But she had decided to shrug off her duty and allow the King and Queen to suffer the fates they so deserved.
She turned another corner and vanished from Emeric’s sight. She could almost hear him taking a relieved breath.
When she got to the second floor, the sound of men shouting and people screaming filled her ears. She knew that she could not descend any farther without being spotted so she ducked into a dark, abandoned corridor and continued on. This way would take her twice as long but was far less risky.
She took her steps with care, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. She was unable to see in the darkness and was forced to place a hand upon the cold wall and let it guide her along her way. Had she not spent the better part of sixty years living inside this castle, she would have started panicking at that moment, but it just so happened she knew where she was going. She had traveled down this corridor many times before and even without her sight, she knew exactly where she was.
She stepped lightly, knowing that her path would soon bring her to another flight of stairs. It seemed to take hours to reach them but when she did, she quickened her pace and ran down the steps. She turned the corner and suddenly her eyes were met with light.
She came upon the servant’s quarters. All rooms had been abandoned and the hallway was quiet, but the sconces had all been lit, giving the corridor an almost pleasant glow. She no longer had to step with care so she quickened her pace.
Rhada suddenly stopped in front of a servant’s door to the great hall and listened to the voices that echoed through the room. Despite her urgent quest, curiosity got the better of her and she turned towards the door and opened it slightly to look in.
The room was filled with Lord Ivran’s warriors. They lined the walls and stood in every corner. In the center of the room stood Lord Ivran, tall and proud with his sword raised high, and in front of him stood the King. He faced Lord Ivran with sword in hand. They stared at each other with bloodlust eyes; both men eager to charge at the other.
Rhada watched in amazement as Lord Ivran gave a shout, daring to be the first man to attack. The King spun to the side, easily avoiding the blow and turned his blade to slice at Lord Ivran’s arm. Rhada saw the spray of blood fly into the air but Lord Ivran seemed to take no notice of the injury. He was a maddened beast who would not feel the pain until afterwards, when all the damage was done.
He turned and rushed at the King once again, taking no time in plotting his next move. But the King had been expecting this very motion and
moved aside. He pushed his blade forward and jabbed it into Lord Ivran’s side.
The King is more skilled with the blade than I thought.
Lord Ivran fell to his knees and Rhada waited for his men to rush to his aid. When no one made a move, she was certain that it was all over for him. The King stood over him with sword poised, ready to cleave its victim and nothing in the way to stop it. Rhada almost made a move to rush in there and stop the King herself; she would have, had it not been for what happened next.
It was perhaps the strangest thing Rhada had ever seen; stranger than anything she’d seen on her journey north, stranger than the risen dead, or the powerful man who had plagued her with shadows. The King lowered his sword, closed his eyes and began to sway as though he stood in a strong wind. Lord Ivran turned his head and watched the King just as Rhada did, with sheer and utter confusion.
As Lord Ivran began to stand, King Firion let go of his sword and dropped to his knees. He suddenly began to weep harder than she had ever heard a man weep before. He held his face in his hands, then raised his hands up to Lord Ivran and began begging for his life. Rhada could see in the way Lord Ivran glowered down at the King that he would not grant Firion a pardon. He placed his blade at King Firion’s neck and stared down at the man with stern hatred, unmoved by the King’s sudden change of heart.
Lord Ivran pulled the blade back and King Firion turned his head. He looked up to the doorway in which she stood and for a moment, their eyes met. He pleaded in his gaze for her to save him- he whispered the words ‘help me’ but she made no movement to rush to his aid. This is what he deserves and nothing more. He is a murderer and a traitor to his own realm. Then she remembered what Mayvard had told her, the King was looking for a replacement to take over her position. He wants me dead. He may go first. And then a small smile spread across her lips and the King’s eyes looked to her with betrayal. The last image she had of him was the desperation in his eyes as he realized that she would not aid him. Then the sword swung down and his head hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 28
