Aethir

by DeWayne Kunkel

  At the end of the long procession came the traitors afoot. They were exhausted and shuffled slowly forward, urged on by the mounted guards behind. Lord Vernal tried to carry himself with dignity but the fetters he wore made him shuffle as the others. He now refused direct eye contact, looking away when anyone gazed upon him.

  “Do you have a secure place for these men?” Gaelan asked for Vernal’s benefit. He already knew the answer, but the mere sight of the man nearly drove him mad with rage.

  How many of his country men had died in his quest for power? The number may never be known; entire families were laid waste by his schemes. It will be many years until the scars of Trondhiem would be healed.

  Lord Hurin smiled grimly. “The pits beneath Timosh are dark and deep.” He said with satisfaction. “They will not escape their hold and in a few days time they may come to forget the feel of sunlight upon their faces.”

  Lord Hurin summoned his guard and had them take custody of the prisoners. “Take these men to cells below the north wall leave them in their chains and kill any who would resist.” The men saluted and began to take the hapless men away. “Let no lights be lit in the corridor, leave them in the blackness that they so love.”

  They watched the men being led into the chamber and through a side passage. They went without argument, the naked swords at their backs quelling any thought of resisting.

  Lord Hurin rubbed his hands together briskly. “Let us retire to warmer quarters.” He said leading them into the cavernous room.

  Behind them the massive door slowly swung inward, with a resounding boom it slammed against the stone. Latches were thrown and heavy iron bolts locked it into place.

  Marcos pulled Connell to the side. “We must leave soon,” he said. “I feel a change upon the wind and I fear Sur’kar may move sooner than we would wish.”

  Connell nodded, “At first light then?” He suggested. “A warm meal and a nights rest in safety would do us all some good.”

  “The morning then,” Marcos agreed. “You are aware that D’Yana should come no further? Her presence would draw undo attention.”

  Connell frowned, “She will not stay behind willingly.”

  Marcos shrugged, “She must, the risk we face is grave enough.” Marcos paused, “Are you aware of the fate female humans face at their hands?”

  Connell exhaled, “I will talk with her.”

  Marcos ducked his head in acknowledgement. “She is wise Connell, your task should not be onerous.”

  “Why don’t we see about getting something hot to eat?” Casius asked joining them.

  “I must pass,” Marcos said apologetically. “My time is short here and I have preparations to make ere we depart. I must walk these walls and bind the stones.” He said cryptically before walking away.

  Casius looked to Connell, “What was that all about?” He asked puzzled by Marcos’s remark.

  “He does not want D’Yana to go beyond these walls.” Connell answered misunderstanding Casius question.

  “What?” Casius asked. “Why not?”

  “If we are captured we would be killed and possibly eaten.” Connell said as a matter of fact. “Should she be captured she would be staked to the ground in one of their brood pits and the young Morne would feast on her life blood and flesh. It is a horrendous death sometimes lasting days.”

  Casius was appalled, “How can a they be capable of such atrocities?”

  “The lands of Morne are harsh and unforgiving, a place where only the strongest survive. They are not creatures like us; their blind alliance to Sur’kar has stripped them of any goodness. To the Morne mercy is a weakness, an alien concept that has no place in their lives. They are even known to sacrifice their children on burning altars to their god.” Connell looked at his friend questioningly. “Do you still wish to go knowing this?”

  Casius shrugged, “My father once said a man’s days are numbered before his birth. To flee in cowardice gains you nothing, death comes in many forms and she always gets her due.” Casius watched as warriors passed through the chamber on their way to their posts. Some of the men bore wounds only half healed from their combat in the north.

  “They fought for their lands,” Casius said. “They will be forced to do so again, but not for their homes alone, they will die and suffer for all free men. I cannot turn aside now and leave them to pay that price alone.”

  “You are no longer that frightened young lad hunted by raiders.” Connell said approvingly. “You have become a man of courage and honor. I did not know your father but I’m sure he would be proud of you.”

  “Suddenly my courage fails,” Casius said with a smile. From over Connell’s shoulder he could see D’Yana approaching. “I will retreat now, and leave you to your next task.” He bowed and waved to D’Yana before walking away.

  Connell saw her and groaned, “Before you go give me your knife.” He called after Casius.

  Casius laughed and waved to his friend taking the first doorway he could find. A steep stair rose above him, he climbed it out of curiosity. He passed several landings on the way and eventually wound up on the towers roof. The cold air slammed into him, driving the warmth from his clothing.

  He looked up at the overhanging mass of rock above. For a brief instant he felt extreme vertigo, the very thought that a mountain was pressing down upon the weathered stone unsettled him.

  Taking his eyes from the rock he realized he was not alone. At least twenty men stood at the westward facing merlons, their attention drawn to the lands beyond the sheltering overhang.

  Another stair opened up onto the roof across the tower to the north. From this opening came King Gaelan, Wolhan and Hurin. They were conferring with one another and Casius had no desire to interrupt them.

  Tucking his hands into his cloak for warmth he walked to the parapet and looked out onto the darkening lands beyond.

  Moinar-Thur was a rough land crushed between two imposing mountain ranges. The Blackwatch Mountains to the north and west, and the Rahlcrag to the east. Deep grottos scoured the land, hidden beneath a forest of stunted trees. The twisted trunks held barren limbs skyward, tangled so tightly it was difficult to tell where one tree ended and another began.

  A steep slope of broken rock rose to the entry of the comb. The forest had been cut back a good half mile from the keep. Low stumps of cut trees littered the ground, their knotted roots holding the shattered stone in place. Far in the distance Casius could just barely see the squat outline of a lone tower rising above the wood on an outcropping of stone.

  “This is good ground.” King Wolhan said startling Casius. “Any army coming before this keep will face terrible losses before reaching these walls.”

  “It is daunting,” Casius said agreeing with the King. “I for one do not look forward to riding through it tomorrow.”

  “There are many perils more dire before you yet.” King Wolhan said leaning against the stone of the parapet. “I can think of no group better suited to the task.” He turned his back to the land beyond and looked at Casius. “Have you thought of what you will do when all this has come to pass?”

  Casius laughed, “To be honest the only thing I’ve thought about is whether or not I will survive the coming week.”

  “A man needs goals,” King Wolhan said returning his attention to the lands beyond and a sky glowing crimson with the setting of the sun. “Thinking of the future sometimes makes surviving the present possible.

  “Connell has told me your tale Casius, these are sad times when such things can go unpunished.” Removing his glove King Wolhan pointed westward. “There but a short distance lies the scorched lands of Tarok nor. Wherein lies the true threat to mankind, we have wasted the time given us by waging war upon one another. While we have battled over petty differences our enemy has grown strong and secure in his lands. We are very fortunate indeed that Marcos has come forth to give us warning.”

  “I only hope we are up to this task fate has set before us.” Casius said.
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br />   King Wolhan smiled, “Doubt can be a strength as well as a weakness Casius. Don’t let it stay your hand, but take from it the wisdom that caution brings.” The King pulled his glove on and looked into Casius eyes. “Once this is over, for good or ill, return to the Spire. There will always be a place for you at my table.”

  Casius was taken aback by the King’s generosity. Never in the days of his youth would he have dreamed of such an offer. “I am most grateful,” He answered not knowing what else to say.

  “Good,” the king said. “You can help me keep Connell in his place.”

  “I think D’Yana is better suited to that task than either of us.”

  Wolhan laughed, “I believe you are right. Nothing can control a man like a strong willed woman.” He turned towards the stair, his tone becoming serious. “You should garner what rest you can, for tomorrow your trek begins in earnest, and there will be few places of safety before you.”

  A chill raced down Casius’s spine on hearing Wolhan’s words. He knew the days ahead would make his earlier journey with Connell appear pleasant in comparison. With a final look at the gloomy landscape he reentered the shelter of the tower.

  The towers interior was a maze of narrow corridors and grand halls. It seemed that soldiers were everywhere. The old keep was bustling with more men than it had seen in generations.

  After asking for directions from several different people he found himself within the upper level of the southern wall. Through a short corridor he stepped into a large dining hall. There were several hundred men seated at the tables. Most of them were new arrivals from Rodderdam, Men of Kesh and Trondhiem enjoying the comradeship that comes from possessing a shared enemy.

  The smell of roasting beef and fresh bread made his stomach growl. Realizing how hungry he was he grabbed a trencher and mug of ale. Taking a seat at a nearby table he tore into the food.

  As he ate he noticed that despite the joviality of the men, there was a subdued tension in the air. These men were soldiers and they knew something was afoot. They were hardened men used to facing danger, but the rumors spreading through the keep were grim indeed.

  Connell stormed into the hall, ignoring the food he grabbed a tankard of ale and downed it in one shot. He grabbed another and then noticed Casius. He wove through the tables taking a seat across from him.

  Casius flinched at the sight of his friend. A large red mark roughly hand shaped marred Connell’s right cheek. “How did D’Yana take the news?” He asked taking a bite of bread to conceal the smile he felt creeping onto his face.

  Connell raised an eyebrow and took a drink from his tankard. “About as well as we figured she would.” He said lowering the empty vessel to the table.

  “You should have ducked.” Casius said giving in to the smile.

  “And risk her drawing a blade?” Connell responded. “Sometimes it is better to take the weaker blow if it spares you one more perilous.”

  “You’re a wise man Connell.”

  “I would think a wise man would not have been in a position to be struck.”

  Casius raised his mug, “Here’s to the wise then.” He said taking a drink. He set the mug down and yawned, the ale taking effect.

  “There is a bunk room further down the corridor,” Connell said. “We may find a place to rest there.”

  Casius leaned back and adjusted the breastplate. “How can you stand to wear this stuff?”

  “I care not for its weight myself.” Connell confessed. “Tomorrow I will leave the breastplate behind, and trust to my skill to protect me.”

  Casius stood and leaned against the table for support. “It would seem the ale of Trondhiem is stronger than most.”

  Connell laughed and shoved Casius out the door. “You wear the armor of Kesh, do not fall down and dishonor it.”

  Down the corridor they went. Passing several bunkrooms full of men, all of the available cots taken. They were forced to descend to a lower level in search of quarters. They passed another full room before finally coming to one that had a few unclaimed cots.

  The chamber was warm and the air carried a light scent of hay. Most of the men were asleep, their weapons and armor shoved under the cots. Their faces were ruddy; these men had just come down off the walls, where they had stood watch in the frigid air for hours.

  “Smells like a barn,” Casius commented while shrugging off his chain hauberk.

  “It should,” Connell said flopping onto the stiff cot. “The stables are directly beneath us.”

  Several men entered the room; they saw Connell and hastily backed out. The Keshian warriors were uneasy about sharing a room with the prince.

  “Perhaps you should stay in the tower.” Casius suggested. “I’m sure there are better quarters there.”

  “Something more to my station?” Connell said with a shrug. “This suits me, I am not a man used to luxury.”

  Casius lay down on his cot and pulled the musty wool blanket over him. He disagreed with Connell but he was too tired to argue the point and fell asleep within minutes of closing his eyes.

  He dreamed of standing upon the keep’s walls. Watching the tortured landscape burn, while great gouts of black blood bubbled up out of the grottos covering thousands of decaying corpses.

  Maimed men clawed at the tower’s walls. Crying out for mercy as a giant Maul walked upon their bodies. Impaling some with his flaming spear. Above the carnage a gigantic shadow loomed. Towering over the very mountains, the dark specter laughing at the horrors below it. With a wave of its shadowy hand hordes of Morne knocked the wall aside, their inhuman eyes burning with hatred and bloodlust.

  Chapter Twelve

  Casius was awakened before dawn, by Connell kicking the side of his bunk. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was dark in the room; the only source of light was from a lantern within the corridor.

  “Sleep well?” Connell asked softly while pulling on his boots.

  “Well enough,” Casius whispered. “I dreamed some fairly macabre images though.”

  “I’ve been doing that ever since this business started.” Connell said with a snort. “Given all that we’ve been through I’m surprised that any of us can sleep at all.”

  Casius pulled on the heavy chain hauberk, he picked up the breastplate given to him at Red spire. He thought about putting it on for a moment before laying it back down on his cot.

  Connell left his as well; they grabbed their cloaks and packs. Leaving the room quietly they made their way to the tower.

  At the western end of the tower they entered a large chamber identical to the entry on the eastern side. The gate here however was much smaller and of heavier construction. It stood open looking out over the desolate landscape that was barely lit by the pale light of the predawn sky. A score of men stood just beyond the opening with drawn weapons scanning the surrounding gloom for any signs of attack.

  Marcos and Suni stood in the opening holding the reins to four horses. They were spirited mounts, chomping at their bits the long legged beasts were eager to run. Their powerful muscles flexed beneath glossy coats the color of midnight. These were the fleet footed mounts prized by the Morne, bred for speed and endurance.

  “Mounts captured by Lord Hurin’s men,” Connell informed him. “Their riders have no need of them now.”

  Casius had never seen steeds of such potent strength and beauty. “You expect me to ride one of these?” He asked Marcos.

  Marcos handed him the reins, “You are a competent rider.”

  “If not he soon will be,” Connell said with a laugh. “With these mounts we will draw less attention to ourselves. The Morne avoid strangers of their own kind, especially those riding the black steeds.”

  King Wolhan and Gaelan entered the chamber from a nearby doorway. Behind them came D’Yana the expression on her face was as black as the large bundle of cloth she carried.

  King Wolhan nodded to them in greeting. “Guard well and keep safe,” he said to them all. Turning to Connell
he embraced his son. “I have found my son, and now I must see him go once again in so short a time.”

  “I shall return, father.” Connell said reassuringly.

  King Wolhan pulled his sword from its scabbard and handed it to Connell. “This is the blade of my father and his before him. It is the sword of Kings and will serve you well.”

  Connell attempted to hand it back but king Wolhan refused to take it. “This belongs with the king not I.” He protested.

  King Wolhan slid Connell’s blade from its scabbard and sheathed it in his own. “A blade for a blade.” He said. “The sword of Bel’Vir has always gone into places of great risk in the service of Kesh. It is steel unlike any other, never dulling and not easily turned aside. I will rest better knowing it is warding you as it has done many of our ancestors.”

  Connell sheathed the blade and embraced his father once more.

  D’Yana stepped forward and handed each man a cloak of midnight black. It was a coarse cloth that smelled faintly of fish. As she handed Casius a cloak their eyes met and she whispered to him. “Watch him for me.” Her eyes were moist and filled with concern.

  Casius took the cloak and held her hand for a brief instant. “I will do my best to see him home safely.”

  She smiled in gratitude, knowing Casius would keep his word if it were at all possible. “I believe you.” She said turning away.

  Casius shrugged off his own cloak and wrapped the new one across his shoulders. D’Yana’s confidence in him conflicted with the way he felt. He knew the mission they were undertaking was nigh onto impossible, and the thought of facing Sur’kar filled his heart with dread.

  Casius watched as Connell took D’Yana’s hand and led her a short distance away from the others. They embraced for several moments whispering to each other. He kissed her cheek lightly and pressed something into her hand.