‘Now that you understand the feeling of helplessness and have a small grasp of the powers granted to me, I would know who your masters are, boy!’
‘The king is my master, and he will take your head when he hears of this interference, priest.’ Jim spat the last as if it were a harsh insult.
‘He will hear what I want him to, for the foul and the cruel are both deaf and blind. I lead them easily. Now tell me your accomplices, those who reside in this keep, your orders, and what you were promised. Or if you are brave enough, and do not fear the pains of this world, we can continue this conversation somewhere your screams will not be heard.’
Jim laughed, but it was a sound devoid of humour, an insane cackle that reminded Robert of the boy’s cruel master. ‘My orders were to fuck the bitch; my accomplices are all who live in this keep and as for what I was promised.’ Again, he laughed. ‘She would be mine to use as I see fit, and I would have gold enough to grant her my full attention until the end of my days.’
Elysabeth stood on shaky legs. She was still naked and Askia felt ashamed when he looked upon her body and felt arousal growing. He silenced the animalistic desire he felt and fetched her a robe from the adjoining room. When he returned, he found she was holding her blade in her hand and a look of resolve and determination replaced the fear clouding her features just moments before.
With a wave of his hand Robert sent Jim crashing into the ceiling where he held him momentarily before letting him fall the nine feet back to the floor, where he lay still, groaning in his agony.
Robert turned as he felt Elysabeth behind him. She remained naked despite Askia trying to hand her a robe. She gripped the blade he had given her so tightly her knuckles were white. Her teeth clenched, and her stony gaze rested on the prone form of her friend turned attacker.
‘My thanks, Father, for I fear if you had not arrived when you did, I would now be dishonoured and dead. For that was surely the king’s intention, dishonourer me then kill me. Maybe he hoped the former would turn Jacob’s heart cruel, as Kane’s is, or maybe he just wanted rid of me and my fornication with the squire would overshadow my death.’ She stepped past Robert and moved towards Jim.
‘My lady’. Robert said as he made to interpose himself between Elysabeth and Jim. ‘What are your intentions?’
‘I mean to avenge myself. Father. Would you tell me I am wrong to want vengeance upon the man who would rape me then leave me to die?’
Rob moved his hand and Jim was once again pinned against the wall; the violent action caused Jim to cry out in pain but was quickly replaced by the insane laughter. ‘No, my dear, I would not. For rape is the worst of crimes against a person, and this boy has been seduced by Darkness. But we must keep appearances how we want them to appear, lest we become branded as murderers.’
Robert held Jim pinned, who smiled as he stared at Elysabeth’s nakedness. ‘I almost had you. Ah...’ he said as if he was recollecting fond memories.
Robert raged as he came to stand directly before Jim, blocking Elysabeth’s path to him. Suddenly Robert wrenched his head to the side while his eyes stayed focused on Jim. Jim’s head mirrored Robert’s, but as Robert’s head stopped Jim’s continued, ending with a violent and sickening snap as Jim’s neck was wrung as simply as one would a chicken’s.
Jim fell to the floor, his dead eyes staring vacantly upward as Rob crossed the floor and took the robe from Askia. As he held it open for Elysabeth to clothe herself in, Red Rob told Askia in a harsh tone, ‘Find a quiet stairwell to the cellars and throw that.’ He pointed to Jim’s corpse. ‘Where his injures will have explanation but remain unseen until the dawn. Dress him first and be sure he wreaks of alcohol.’
‘Yes, father.’ Askia said, bowing his head towards Elysabeth he said. ‘I have failed you, my Lady.’ There was genuine sorrow in Askia’s voice. But it was Robert who spoke.
‘Yes, Askia, you failed but you are merely a man and the powers that rally against us are much more than any man. For I know now what I before only suspected. A Dark Lord has risen and is calling forth all who would serve him, with knowledge of whom they serve or without.’ At the last Red Rob, Father of the order, sent his eyes towards Jim’s broken body. ‘And the Dark Lord feeds upon the violent deaths of the mortal races. It sustains and nourishes him as food and drink do a man. And when he has had his fill, he will once more walk this world, and all will die.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Weapons and Armour
The feast was sumptuous beyond comparison. All manner of delicacies adorned two huge tables that lined the side walls of Beringer’s feast hall, one hundred feet long and as wide as a man is tall. The solid oak serving tables were crammed with silver platters each piled high with the best that the land, sea and air provided. Slow roasted pheasant, salted cod with oyster sauce, lamb roasted over a maple wood fire, peacock pie, songbirds drowned in aged brandy then cooked in the finest of red wines, lobsters were served whole infused with garlic butter. There were vegetables of every colour from the golden sweet corns to the bright red carrot and out of season greens, grown to great expense in the special warehouses that captured sunlight with glass and mirror, and were heated with steams, such as broccoli, asparagus and cabbages all cooked in various seasonings, basil, thyme, parsley and sage, and hot chillies brought in from the islands by rich spice merchants.
At the rear of the tables lay the sweeter dishes, crystallised apple segments, plums boiled in sugar, individual portions of cakes of numerous flavours and designs. The Lord Beringer had spared no expense to impress his status and the glorifying of his king and with good reason, for on a raised dais at the furthest wall of the great hall lay the table of providence, and sat upon his own throne, transported by wagon from his own keep, the king.
Beside King Kane, at his right-hand side, and in the position of most honour sat Jacob, whilst to the left of the king in the second highest place of honour sat Beringer. And filling the other places at the table import sat the reason for Beringer’s largesse, the three other great lords of the south, Audemar, Armine and Otelin. Beringer was showing all present that only the king himself outranked him in power or wealth.
The king raised his glass, and the hall became instantly silent. ‘A toast to Lord Beringer, food fit for a king indeed, my Lord. And yet, though the food of the south is most delicious and the wine without peer, it is not that which brings me to the south. Those seated beside my nephew and myself are given privilege in my realm.’ The king drew out each syllable in the words, ‘privilege in my realm’. ‘But with that privilege is a debt! And it is now that this debt is called upon. You,’ Kane the Cruel pointed down upon the upturned faces of the lesser lords, barons, admirals, generals and the lords of commerce whose status was such that they were granted a seat with the nobility, ‘are all in service to me through them, and it is I, your king, who now calls you to your duty. Rumours will have reached you all by now, rumours about the glorious adventure of our time. And I am here to tell you good people now the truth. In seventy-six weeks, a great fleet, the likes of which man has never seen before, will set sail from somewhere in our kingdom. It will take warriors to a land far to the north, a land populated with barbarians. But barbarians with a horde of treasure vast enough to fill the coffers of every man with substance enough to devote themselves and their resources to this God-given gift.’
The king stood, and all immediately stood with him. An aura of power resonated from the king. A glow tinged his skin a golden hue as he pulled his shoulders back and raised his chin. Gone was the image of a man past his prime in years, and in its place, a being of power. The assembled might of the southern lands of his kingdom stood in a state of awe, muted. They, to a man, felt small and insignificant where moments before they felt assured in their power and status. ‘And see now before you the gift bestowed upon your king for, I am touched with the power of He who is Greatest of them all. He who stood alone at the beginning has granted me his strength and his vision, so we might vent
ure forth and bring this world once again to heel in His name.’
The king sat to a tremendous roar of cheering and the deafening noise of boots being stamped upon the flagstones of the hall’s floor. As the king sat back upon his throne, the natural colour returned to his cheeks. But the return of the king’s normal visage did nothing to dull the experience of seeing the power of He who is Greatest come to them in the form of their king. They all dropped to their knees.
The king spoke again, but his concentration seemed to be drawn to something beyond the mortal world. ‘Do you, assembled before me, swear an oath on the pain of death that you will sacrifice all your wealth, your possessions and your very lives to serve He who is Great through me, His most blessed?’
Even the great lords of the south had knelt, Colburn too, only Jacob remained seated at the king’s right-hand side. The king looked at Jacob questioningly, but Jacob replied to the unsaid question with a calm authority. ‘Would you have me kneel with the rabble, my king? You have my oath already through blood and lineage.’ The answer pleased the king, for he tilted his head in acknowledgement and turned his attention towards the oath takers as they said in one strong and clear voice.
‘I do herby swear.’ And thus, it was done. The king had come to the south and brought all of it to servitude with a few words. An icy breeze blew through the keep, brisk and foreboding. And though none spoke of it, they all heard a name upon the air. That name was Vor’rok.
Morning broke over the keep of Lord Beringer with a dazzling newness, and the bright rising sun found the king already awake and dressed and in the large marshalling yard in the centre of the keep’s curtain walls. With him the Lord Audemar, dressed in well-made but simple garments for a great lord, and twenty men dressed in the clothes of the hunters which stalked the great grass plains of Lord Audemar’s lands. Their green tunics tucked into slightly darker green dyed woollen breeches which in turn were tucked into calf high leather boots. Upon the hunters’ hips were large canvas bags containing arrows and, on their backs, rucksacks containing small tools and supplies to keep them sustained whilst they hunted the herds of antelope that wondered the great plains. The Lord Audemar held before him a bow and spoke to the king.
‘As you can see my Lord King, it is half again the size of a normal hunting bow.’ He turned the bow in his hands as he spoke, showing the king the weapon that stood two inches taller than his five foot and ten. ‘It takes immense strength to draw the bowstring, but the power released is incredible.’ The lord took an arrow from one of his men and handed it to the king. ‘It is a little over three feet in length, my king, and tipped with what is called a bodkin arrowhead. The arrow itself is six inches in length, three-sided and needle sharp. The bow can fire that arrow two hundred yards and the arrow is capable of piecing steel plate at that range.’
The king looked enthralled as he twirled the arrow in his hands. ‘And you have my two hundred men?’ the king asked of the Lord Audemar.
‘Of those most skilled with the war bow, I asked men to come forward; five hundred and more requested the honour of serving the king and the glory of doing battle with the Orc. Though individually these men are skilled and brave warriors, they come from many different clans, some of whom are in a state of feud. It is proving difficult to select a large body of men who will fight beside each other, my king.’
The king smiled his frightening smile and returned the arrow to Audemar. ‘I am pleased my Lord Audemar, very pleased, and I have faith in you that these war bowmen will be ready to protect our northern border when the need is greatest.’ The king left unsaid what the punishment for failing would be. Lord Audemar was well aware of the pain and humiliation that awaited himself and his family should he fail in any way.
‘My Lord King, there is talk amongst the men that their leaders have made me aware of’, Lord Audemar said.
‘Talk?’
‘They are fearful of the men-at-arms of the brotherhood. We have little to do with the warriors of renown that protect our kingdom from the evil that lays in the north. In fact, to most not born of rank or nobility they are near legend. But even the lowest of the people know that they fight only with sword and view weapons such as bows to be dishonourable and beneath them. My men fear they will be ill-treated, my king.’
‘You may tell them this, Lord Audemar’, the king replied shortly. ‘They go upon the king’s business and with the king’s orders.’ His voice became more temperate. ‘I tell you this, my lord, the Order of the Brotherhood has stuck to its traditions and rituals for long enough and reform will be called upon. They act without orders and consent which I have abided as they are the wall between the light and dark, but there is a master of both the light and the dark and through me we shall no longer need a wall.’
Jacob strolled across the marshalling yard and came to stand before his king, bowing his head he said, ‘My king, it is a fine morning, is it not?’
‘It is, my boy’, the king said fondly. ‘A God-blessed day of sunshine to carry out His works and speaking of His works my Lord Audemar is about to demonstrate our new weapon in the war against the Orc.’
The lord made a slight hand gesture and his men formed up in a line and notched arrows to bowstrings.
‘Impressive’, Jacob said, noticing the great size of the war bow and its lethal projectile.
‘Take aim’, Lord Audemar called out. And the men as one drew the string to their ears and took aim at the roughly man-shaped straw targets one hundred yards away across the marshalling ground.
‘Loose!’ Audemar ordered, and the arrows whistled in to the air. The snap of the bowstring was replaced by a sound akin to a swarm of angry bees as the arrows seemed to hang in the air as they reached the arc of their trajectory. And then they dropped, and the sight was indeed impressive. Over half of the twenty arrows struck the half dozen targets dead centre, burying themselves up to the goose feathers, a couple even going clear through. The remaining arrows that missed the more compact mark sliced clean through the loose straw and struck the masonry behind with a dreadful force. Sparks flew from the impact and the arrowheads were mangled.
‘Impressive indeed’, Jacob said. Understanding the new weapon’s power. ‘A hundred of these could decimate an enemy charge. May I?’ Jacob directed his question towards his king who granted his permission with a nod of his head. Audemar handed him his own weapon and gave a quick instruction in the weapon’s use.
‘Do not feel disheartened, my prince, if the bowstring cannot be drawn back fully. It is a task that looks far easier than in fact it is.’
Jacob smiled, but unlike his uncle’s smile that promoted fear, Jacob’s came from his good nature and radiated warmth. He drew back the bow with apparent ease and took a moment to focus the target to his eyesight. He pictured where he wanted the arrow to place and released. The arrow flew with enough force to send it three hundred yards rather than the one hundred needed to reach its target. It struck the middle target dead centre, splitting the wooden post the straw was attached to and striking the great stone wall behind with power enough still to chip the ancient stone and strike sparks.
Audemar bowed his head. ‘Amazing my prince, I did not know you were so skilled with a bow.’
‘Neither did I, my lord’, Jacob said in surprise at his own prowess with a weapon he had never used before.
‘The hunters of the great plains have many strange rituals and traditions; they say that the skill of a bow man comes through the Goddess of the hunt, Fillino, she who made the lions to sit beneath her feet. These men here are such hunters.’ He turned towards the assembled bowmen, who were all staring at Jacob in awe. ‘They believe the Goddess must truly bless you, for they have been shooting arrows since they could stand, and you have outdone them all.’
‘I do not know this Goddess of the hunt, so I see no reason she should bless me. I just focused on the place I wanted my arrow to strike and let fly.’ Jacob suddenly became aware of the king’s eyes boring into him and realised
he was entering dangerous territory; it was unwise to boast of physical prowess in front of a king who had always been plagued by a weak body. He handed back the bow and said dismissively, ‘At any rate, swordmaster Malick would think this an unfit weapon for a prince, and I bow to his knowledge in martial matters.’
‘But times are changing nephew. Has your Father Robert, the fat priest, not schooled you in evolution?’ The king’s tone dripped with suspicion.
‘Yes, my king. In nature animals will adapt to their environment and go through slight physical change that will give them the edge in the battle for survival.’
‘And do you not see your own battle for survival?’ the king said sharply. ‘When I am gone from this world, you will be named my heir but do not think for a second that the crown will rest upon your head without bloodshed. No, no, no!’ the king said waggling his bony finger at the prince. ‘Any of the great lords has the means and motivation to usurp the throne. I rule with the absolute power of the king through fear. They fear my wrath more than they wish for the crown, yet you, boy, do not have the stomach to do the deeds that make a man feared so much, so that outweighs the greed they have in their heart.’
The Banner of the Broken Orc: The Call of the Darkness Saga: Book One Page 25
