The Shadows of Grace h-4

by David Dalglish

  “I always wondered why King Vaelor was so jealous of Mordan,” Antonil said to Aurelia as they approached. “Now I understand.”

  More trumpets sounded. Soldiers marched from the outer gate, holding their weapons high and cheering them on.

  “That’s some welcome,” Harruq said.

  “Stay by my side,” Antonil told them. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

  “No worries,” Harruq said. “I tend to stick out.”

  As they neared the gates, a high ranking commander stepped forward from the soldiers and saluted.

  “King Antonil Copernus,” the man shouted. “Her majesty requests an audience with your most trusted.”

  “Follow me,” Antonil said to the Eschaton. He drew his sword and held it before him, and the people of Neldar cheered and cried his name.

  “I am he, King of Neldar,” Antonil shouted amid the noise. The commander saw him and saluted once more. Soldiers rushed ahead and surrounded him, ushering him ahead of the rest. Tarlak, Aurelia, and Harruq hurried after, the guards giving them curious looks but allowing them by.

  They passed through the gates and immediately turned left, to where the second gate was swung inward. The passage between the two walls was narrow, and Harruq kept looking to the sky to fight his claustrophobia. Eight people could stand side to side within the gap, and at sight of the archers atop either wall, he couldn’t imagine being an attacker against the city.

  “Queen Baedan has been looking forward to your arrival for some time,” the commander said as they walked. “Of course, she had hoped for more pleasant circumstances, but we will do what we can to help your people survive.”

  They passed through the second set of doors and into the city. Tarlak whistled and nudged Harruq, pointing at the great expanse of white stone houses stretching to either side. A massive road ran straight through the heart of the city to the castle. Along either side of the road, large slabs of rectangular stone formed walls in front of each alley or street. Any army passing through would be funneled through, with only a handful of guards required to block off the gaps. Waiting at the end of the road was the castle, its six towers filled with windows, and in each window was an archer. Antonil shook his head, wondering how many more might have survived the siege of Veldaren if he’d had such defenses. There was no mistaking it; Ashhur had built Mordeina for war.

  “We’ve planned several spaces for your people to live,” the commander continued as they approached the castle. The road was empty, with soldiers filling the gaps in the center wall to keep the curious away. “The land between the walls goes for a mile in both directions, and should suffice for a camp for the healthier among you. We also have a few stretches of field on the western side of the city that you may camp upon. Many of our citizens have volunteered their homes as well. Of course, royalty such as yourself is welcome to stay in our castle.”

  “This generosity is far beyond anything I could have hoped for,” Antonil said, meaning every word.

  “Her majesty has a kind heart,” the commander said. “We will not leave so many to starve, not on our doorstep. We have wagons coming in with wheat and corn from the outlying towns. Our storehouses in the city are plentiful as well. Do not feel yourself a burden. Should these dark days pass, a renewed friendship between our kingdoms would be well worth the price.”

  The castle’s doors swung open, a roaring lion molded from black steel on their fronts. Harruq winced at the sight. He remembered Tarlak mentioning once that priests of Karak were far more open in Mordan than they had been in Neldar. He wondered just how much of that was true.

  At first the hallway was narrow, with two separate turns to slow attackers, and then suddenly they entered a gigantic chamber, twenty times taller than any man there. Columns decorated with banners ran along either side of the red carpet. At the other side of the room, sitting in her throne atop a raised dais, waited the queen.

  “Please, for all that is holy, behave,” Tarlak said to Harruq.

  “I’m not an idiot,” Harruq grumbled.

  The queen stood. She wore an elegant dress of lavender and a silver crown atop her auburn hair. Her skin had a few wrinkles that seemed to vanish when she smiled, and her eyes sparkled with life.

  “Your majesty,” the commander said as he saluted. “I present to you King Antonil Copernus of Neldar, and his servants.”

  “Servants?” Harruq muttered. Aurelia jabbed him with her elbow to silence him.

  “We are most humbled, your majesty,” Antonil said as he bowed on one knee. “I can only dream of repaying the kindness you have shown us.”

  Queen Annabelle dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand.

  “Too long our nations have acted as strangers to one another, more prepared for war than friendship.” She was smiling at Antonil, but her eyes glanced to Aurelia, who kept her head low and her face to the floor.

  “Your friend,” she said, gesturing to the elf. “What is her name?”

  “Aurelia Tun,” Aurelia answered, shaking her head so that her pointed ears were clearly visible through her hair. “Elf of Dezerea.”

  At that Annabelle winced, and Antonil’s heart doubled in pace. Never had he heard Aurelia introduce herself as such. He had no delusions as to why she did so now.

  “Dezerea,” the queen said, her smile vanishing from her painted face. “That is a name I have not heard in years. But Tun does not sound like an elvish name. What was it before you crossed the rivers?”

  She took Harruq’s hand in hers and met the queen’s gaze.

  “Thyne,” she said.

  The corner of Annabelle’s mouth quivered as she fought off a second frown.

  “Your parents killed a thousand of my husband’s soldiers,” the queen said. “My libraries have books devoted to the sheer power and tactics demonstrated at Bloodbrick Bridge. Tell me, Aurelia Tun, daughter of Kindren and Aullienna Thyne, do you hate me?”

  Annabelle carefully approached the elf, taking each step with a gentle pause. Harruq winced, his wife’s grip on his hand excruciating. He could see Tarlak and Antonil waiting for an answer, each one tensed as if someone were about to strike.

  “No,” Aurelia said at last. “I have done my best to forgive. I bear you no anger, nor blame.”

  Queen Annabelle closed her eyes and shook her head. Then, to their shock, she fell to one knee.

  “I was but a child,” she said, “married because of my bloodline to King Marcus Baedan. I held no sway then, but I still feel his shame. Aurelia, elf of Dezerea, will you accept my apology, and the apology of the Mordan humans, for what we have done to your people and your home?”

  Aurelia’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what to say. Harruq nudged her, and she shook her head as if coming out of a daze.

  “I am not royalty,” she said. “Nor am I revered among my own kind. I do not know if I am worthy to accept such an apology, but I will accept it in the spirit it is offered. Please stand, your majesty, you need not kneel to me.”

  Queen Annabelle stood, and she beamed at the elf.

  “I have long wanted to atone for my husband’s ignorance,” she said, returning to her throne. “But I have not known how. Perhaps you can help me with such an enormous task.”

  She looked to her commander, who stood to the side of her throne.

  “You may send in my advisors,” she told him. “We have much to discuss.”

  The commander bowed and exited a door to the side of the chamber. Harruq kissed Aurelia on the cheek, chuckling at how flustered she seemed.

  “I was prepared for exile, imprisonment, even her to execute me,” Aurelia whispered to him.

  “Didn’t expect that, eh?” Harruq asked.

  “No. Not one bit.”

  Tarlak leaned in and joined the whispering.

  “Think you can use a bit of her guilt to get us a fancy room?” he asked. “I’m pretty tired of sleeping in a tent.”

  “Shush,” said Aurelia.

  �
�I hate to bring attention to darker matters,” Queen Annabelle said, “but I must ask more about the tragedy that brings you to my city. My scouts warned of your arrival, but have had little more to offer me about the fate of Neldar.”

  “An army marched upon our city,” Antonil said. “One of all vile races. Orcs, hyena-men, wolf-men, bird-men, and even the dead, assaulted our city. They were led by a man named Velixar, one who has long been a servant of Karak.”

  Advisors poured into the room, twelve by Harruq’s count. Most wore elegant clothes and abundant jewelry, but one in particular stood out. He wore a simple gray robe, and hanging from his neck was a pendant shaped like the skull of a lion.

  “Karak?” that advisor asked. “For what reason would Karak want your city destroyed?”

  Antonil glared.

  “And who are you to question the word of a king?” he asked.

  “Silence, Hayden,” Annabelle said. “You show our guests disrespect unfitting of a priest.”

  Harruq shifted side to side, his hands on the hilts of his swords. Next to him, he saw Tarlak’s fists clench white, tiny sparks flicking off his knuckles.

  “Karak has tried several times to break through the walls of our city,” Antonil continued. “And there is no doubt as to whose banner they marched with. His priests and paladins were among them, and killed many of my people as they fled.”

  Hayden shook his head, looking as if he were correcting a child.

  “Many wear robes and carry sigils, but that doesn’t mean they follow or even understand what Karak teaches. Why would our beloved deity seek to destroy the city crafted with his hands?”

  Antonil reached for his sword, but Aurelia grabbed his wrist.

  “I will not be treated like a fool,” the king said.

  “Rude as he may be, he questions wisely,” Annabelle said. “Karak has always desired order. What order is there in the destruction and ransacking of a city? Of throwing your entire nation to anarchy and lawlessness?”

  “Forgive me,” Harruq said, doing his best to be polite. “But I don’t think you’ve seen the order he desires, your majesty.”

  “And you have?” Hayden asked.

  “I once served under Velixar, he who calls himself the mouth of Karak,” the half-orc said, his voice growing louder. “One who speaks Karak’s will. One who has served since the very birth of your race. I have seen what he desires. Nowhere in this land is one more faithful to Karak, and nowhere in this land is there a man, dead or alive, that is more dangerous.”

  The advisors clamored amongst themselves, and Hayden clutched his pendant of the lion and waved his hands in a pattern symbolic for banishment. Guards rushed to either side of them. They had not drawn their weapons yet, but they were ready to.

  “Enough,” Queen Annabelle shouted. They quieted. “Whoever leads this army is irrelevant. If an army of vile creatures marches to our gates, we will slay them. We will take back Veldaren, and rebuild it to its former glory.”

  “It’s not just those creatures,” Tarlak said, waiting for the queen to acknowledge him before continuing. “Winged soldiers join their ranks, numbering in the hundreds. They come from a land beyond our own, through a gate opened in the very heart of Veldaren.”

  “Winged soldiers?” Annabelle asked. “Tell me you jest.”

  “Wings will bypass all our defenses,” one advisor on her left said.

  “Our archers can shoot even the tiniest of birds from the sky,” said another on her right. “We have no need to fear any army, regardless if it travels by land or air.”

  Queen Annabelle rose from her throne, and her advisors quieted again.

  “Go to your people, King Copernus,” she said. “They will need you. I will discuss with my advisors and generals on how to best prepare our defenses. You have given me much to ponder. For now, I bid you farewell. Commander, please escort them.”

  “That could have gone better,” Harruq muttered as they were led out the castle.

  “Yeah,” Tarlak said, glancing at Aurelia. “But also far worse.”

  M uch to Tarlak’s chagrin, Antonil turned down an offer to stay inside the castle.

  “Stay among the people,” the wizard muttered as the Eschaton hunkered beside one of many fires that filled the gap between the two walls. “Since when do I belong among the people?”

  “You’d hate life inside that castle,” Lathaar said, munching on a piece of bread that soldiers of Mordan had been passing out for the past hour. “You’d have to watch your tongue the whole while. Complain like you are now, and you’d be in the stocks within the hour.”

  “Complaining is illegal here?” Tarlak said, raising an eyebrow.

  “I believe they would classify it as disrespecting a gift of her majesty,” the paladin said.

  “You know you love us anyway,” Aurelia said, comfortably snuggled inside Harruq’s arms. “You’d take cold ground and a fire with us over fluffy pillows and a bed any day.”

  Tarlak shrugged. “Depends. Can we toss a girl in with those pillows? Maybe a pretty elven lass?”

  Harruq threw a piece of bread at him. Tarlak ducked, twirled his fingers, and as the bread sailed over his head it suddenly spun around and headed right back at the half-orc. Harruq batted it aside with his hand, sending it straight into king Antonil’s lap.

  “Forgiveness please, your majesty,” Tarlak said, bowing low. “I would not dare show disrespect of such wheaty nature.”

  Antonil picked up the piece of bread, sniffed it, and then ate it.

  “Still tastes fine,” he said. “And please, while I don’t mind such impressive displays of respect here, try to behave yourselves around the Mordan people. I should attempt to be a bit more…”

  “Kingly?” Harruq asked.

  “That’ll suffice,” Antonil said.

  “Where’s Haern?” Harruq asked, glancing around. “He’s usually pretty good with all this royalty stuff.”

  “I haven’t seen him since we left the castle,” Tarlak said. “He’s plotting something, I just don’t know what.”

  “I’m hurt,” Haern said, suddenly appearing between Tarlak and Lathaar. The assassin shifted his cloaks and sat, a piece of bread in hand. “You should know by now I don’t plot. I scheme.”

  “Well, schemer, where have you been?” Tarlak asked.

  Haern took a bite and thought as he chewed.

  “I’ve been trying to locate Deathmask and his ilk,” he said. “I feel they’re mostly our responsibility, and I’d prefer they behave.”

  Tarlak looked at his friend, spying a red stain across the bottom of his cloaks.

  “There’s blood on you,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Is there?” Haern asked. He continued eating. Tarlak rolled his fingers, trying to get him to say more, but he refused. Giving up, Tarlak tossed his hands to the air and then stood.

  “That’s it, I’m going to go mingle,” he said. “Too much sitting around. Used to travel and danger. This peaceful life is going to kill me.”

  “I should go as well,” Antonil said. “I need to visit the rest of my people camped among the fields. Care to escort me, Mr. Eschaton?”

  “Of course,” Tarlak said, slipping his arm through Antonil’s. “Is this respectful enough? You have the prettiest blue eyes.”

  When Antonil reached for his sword, Tarlak let him go, a feigned look of disappointment on his face.

  “Wrong kind of escort,” Harruq shouted after them as they left for the inner gate.

  He couldn’t tell for sure, but Harruq thought Tarlak made a rather rude gesture with his hand.

  “S o what’s really going on?” Tarlak asked once the two were far enough from the camp.

  “Am I that obvious?” Antonil asked.

  “Maybe,” Tarlak said. “What’s bothering you?”

  The king glanced about and lowered his voice.

  “The priest of Karak,” he said as they walked. “I fear his influence over the queen.”

  “He
’s just one advisor,” Tarlak said.

  “I’ve seen what just one advisor can do,” Antonil said. “She listens to him. Even worse, priests of Karak mingle with my people, giving away food and clothes. I don’t trust them.”

  “So what do you want from my mercenaries?” Tarlak asked, lowering his voice as well.

  “There’s a small temple to Ashhur not far from here. Seek them out, and uncover what you can about Hayden and his priests. When Karak’s army marches to these walls, I don’t want any spies in our midst throwing open the gates or turning the hearts of our soldiers.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Tarlak said. “And for your own good, you never had this discussion, and we will not have any further discussion. Consider the matter handled.”

  “You’re a good friend,” the king said.

  “And an expensive one, too,” Tarlak said, grinning. “Don’t you forget that.”

  10

  T arlak waited until nightfall to move out. He thought about bringing Lathaar, but chose Harruq instead. The paladin’s sense of honor could have proved difficult.

  “What the Abyss do you want?” Harruq muttered as Tarlak prodded him awake.

  “Quiet,” the wizard ordered. “And don’t wake your wife.”

  “Too late,” Aurelia said, stirring beside him. “Where are you taking my husband?”

  “Nowhere,” Harruq grumbled. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “No you’re not,” Tarlak said, kicking him. “And be quiet. I’m on orders from the king, now get your swords and let’s go.”

  “I’m going with,” Aurelia said.

  “You’re too conspicuous,” Tarlak argued.

  “And a giant half-orc isn’t?”

  Tarlak bit his lip. “Good point. All right, hurry up.”

  Harruq buckled on his armor while Aurelia slipped her dress on over her flimsy nightgown.

  “We’re headed for the temple,” Tarlak said when they were ready.

  “Which one?” Harruq asked.

  “Ashhur. Let’s go.”

  They had camped between the two walls. Normally both gates were closed at night, but because of the massive amount of people, they had left the inner gate open. Four guards stood watch, torches in hand.