Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools

by M. R. Mathias

  “Why is the archway so big?” Mikahl asked.

  “What did you Westlanders keep down here?” Hyden shrugged.

  “This stuff is centuries old, Hyden,” Mikahl said. “I never knew if King Balton used the deeper dungeons for anything or not. I doubt it. The upper levels held a murderer or two, awaiting the headsman, when I was growing up, and at least one breed giant in the early days of the breed war, but I’ve never been down here.”

  “Since it’s your castle, you get to lead,” Hyden indicated the big archway. “Keep your sword ready, but don’t draw it unless you have to,” he reminded. “As soon as I get a dry string on this bow I’ll have an arrow ready to loose.”

  “I doubt there’s anything down here,” Mikahl said hopefully.

  At the archway, the floor stepped up into a long hallway that paralleled the outer wall of the castle. On the left, spaced about every twenty paces, were alarmingly large rusty iron doors. None of them appeared to be locked, and most of them were open. One was hanging askew. The bottom portion of the iron had been bent into a fold, and the upper hinge pins had been pulled out of the block wall. When they passed that one, Hyden stopped and looked into the cell.

  “By the gods, Mik,” he said. “Whatever they kept down here was huge.”

  “Aye,” Mikahl agreed.

  The hall eventually came to a junction. They could either keep going forward or turn left and go deeper under the castle. “Which way do you think?” Mikahl asked.

  “Think about what’s above us, Mik,” Hyden suggested. “Now that I’m not shivering and waterlogged, maybe I can concentrate. I’m going to have Talon check the tower to see if that’s where they’re keeping Rosa.”

  Pael’s tower wasn’t hard for the hawkling to find. When Hyden found Talon’s vision, the bird was already perched on its sharp peak, preening himself in the morning sun. With Hyden’s urging, Talon circled the structure cautiously then landed on the sill of one of the upper arrow slits. The room was empty, save for several bird cages that lined the walls, and a pile of dirty clothes on the floor.

  The hawkling started to fly away, but the pile of clothes stirred. Through Talon’s eyes, Hyden saw that under a tangled mop of filthy hair was Princess Rosa. She was sleeping, if restlessly, but at least she was alive. Without waking her, Talon leapt back into flight.

  Hyden let go of his extended vision. He’d thought about making his and the High King’s presence known to her. Surely she would remember Talon, but he decided that getting her excited and full of hope, when they were still a long way away from being in a position to help her, would serve no purpose.

  “She’s there, just like you said,” Hyden said.

  Mikahl was several yards down the left hand branch of the hallway, looking around in the dim reaches of Hyden’s magical light. As he returned to the junction, the satisfied grin on his face told Hyden that Mikahl had heard him.

  “If we’re at about the same level as the surface of the lake, then we are at least five stories below the main floor of the castle.” Mikahl looked from one tunnel to the other. “I guess this way.” He started them deeper into the structure.

  “I’m following you,” Hyden said as he made an arrow mark in the mold on the wall. It pointed back the way they came from.

  They roamed the dungeon for several hours. Hyden lost track of how many marks he made. They’d come up three separate staircases so far, and the cells on the level they were currently on were not nearly as large as those below, but they were still big.

  “We were just here,” Mikahl said with a frustrated huff. Hyden’s mark was on one of the other walls pointing off to the hallway across from them.

  “We go left,” Hyden said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just...” Hyden stopped his voice short then whispered, “Did you hear that?”

  “No.”

  “Shhhh,” Hyden hissed. “Listen.”

  They both strained their ears into the darkness. Apparently some of the keen senses Hyden shared with his familiar were beginning to stay with him when they were apart. Mikahl couldn’t hear anything, but Hyden was sure he could hear a long low groaning. After he heard it again, he started off toward the sound, leaving Mikahl no choice but to follow.

  Hey took a few turns that Hyden didn’t bother to mark, and found another stairway leading up. The sound was coming from somewhere on the floor above.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Mikahl whispered.

  “It sounds like somebody in pain,” Hyden replied softly.

  “After you,” said Mikahl, making a show of the fact that Ironspike was at the ready.

  Hyden checked the tension on his bow string. His arrow was nocked as they started up.

  “Why are you sneaking?” asked Mikahl.

  Hyden looked back with narrowed brows.

  “Your light is already shining into the hallway up there. Let’s get up before something traps us in the stairway.”

  Hyden had to laugh at himself this time. He hurried his pace and, once he was standing in the wide cell-lined passage above, the source of the sound became apparent. He walked straight to a locked cell door. A look in the head-high window hit him like a fist in the gut. Before Mikahl had even caught up to him, Hyden had the bolt thrown and was starting into the cell. Behind him, Mikahl was protesting, but it was too late.

  Lying chained in the corner of the putrid smelling cell was a body, nothing but skin and bones really. It was obviously that of a giant. The poor starved figure was easily thirteen feet from head to toe. He was so near to death that Hyden thought it might be inhumane to try and save him.

  The giant moaned again, “Booohhhrrrg.”

  Hyden knelt beside the emaciated form and took its huge head into his lap. He poured a few drops of water onto its swollen cracked lips. “I think he’s calling for Borg.”

  Mikahl found himself raging. He could imagine King Aldar’s fury if he were to see this. He could imagine Borg’s fury. He rummaged through his wet shoulder pack and found a satchel of meat that was only semi-damp. “Here.” He handed it to Hyden.

  “Booorrghh.”

  “Borg’s not here,” Hyden said. “Eat this.” He put a small piece of the soft jerky in the giant’s mouth then dribbled some more water.

  After the giant finally swallowed he spoke in a raspy whisper. “Tell Borg they...” the giant started quivering. “They killed Dalla.” He shuddered and gasped in a breath, but then fell still.

  “By the goddess, don’t die,” Hyden pleaded with tear-filled eyes, but he knew it was too late.

  “He’s better off now,” Mikahl said, putting a hand on Hyden’s shoulder. Had he thought the touch of his blade wouldn’t just kill him, he might have used Ironspike’s magic on the giant. “Did he say to tell Borg that they killed Dalla?”

  “Aye, and I will, but...” Hyden raised a hand to still Mikahl and cocked his ear to the side, listening again. He started to say that he heard something, but just then a big dark figure came up out of the hall behind Mikahl. Hyden tried to warn his friend, but wasn’t nearly quick enough. A huge clawed paw smashed the High King across the cell into the wall with a thumping clatter.

  Hyden slid out from under the dead giant. He‘d sat his bow down and it was half a dozen paces across the floor. As he started for it, he realized that he wouldn’t get to it before the grotesque beast got to him, but it was too late. He was committed to the action. He pulled an arrow from his quiver as he strode, and just as his hand closed on the grip of the weapon, the beast kicked out at him, causing his legs to come over his head. Just before he crashed into the floor he saw something else skitter into the cell. It wasn’t nearly as big as the beast that was attacking him, but it looked pretty dangerous. It was some sort of scorpion-like thing with a long dripping stinger curled up over its segmented body. He couldn’t tell any more about it because, when he impacted the wall, blackness engulfed him.

  ***

  Mikahl blinked his eyes open, but still saw
nothing. Instinctually, he reached to his shoulder and pulled out Ironspike. As its symphonic rush of power filled him, he rose to his feet and surveyed the room by the light of its blade.

  A malformed breed beast was bearing down on Hyden, who was lying limp across the cell. Only the sudden brilliance of Ironspike’s glow stopped the creature from tearing into his friend. Mikahl stepped forward and, with a mighty heaving arc, slashed at the thing before it could turn on him. The blade sliced cleanly across its back, but not deep enough to do serious damage.

  The creature roared and turned so quickly that Mikahl was caught off guard. A savage claw ripped out at his chest. As he saw the sharp digits coming at him, he called forth Ironspike’s magical armor. It spared him the brunt of the damage, but he was still gouged across the ribs. As he thrust his sword at the creature’s guts, he felt more than saw, another presence in the cell. He dodged the scorpion’s venomous stinger just in the nick of time, but in doing so he was forced to pull a blow that would have killed the other beast. By the time he caught his balance, the sword’s glow was surging purple with his growing anger.

  As soon as Mikahl had his feet, he charged the great hairy monstrosity with a savage attack. His first chopping blow took the beast in the upper arm and left a bone-deep gash from shoulder to elbow. His next spinning slice ripped across its middle, but not deeply enough to stop it. After that, he had to run as fast as he could across the cell to try and help Hyden. The scorpion was scurrying toward his helpless friend with thick, honey-like venom dripping from its tail spike. In all the commotion, he forgot about the huge corpse sprawled across the floor. His foot caught on one of the giant’s legs and he ended up stumbling right into the scorpion’s angry stinger.

  It just missed his flesh.

  As he went twisting by, he stabbed at the thing. The tip of his now white-hot blade hit the stone floor hard after going straight through the hell-spawned creature. It skittered across the floor into the corner, leaving a trail of thick yellow slime. He doubted it was dead, but at least it was away from Hyden.

  Mikahl booted Hyden’s body as gently as he could. “Hyden!” He yelled, eyeing the huge blood-drenched thing that was coming at him again. “Get up, Hyden!”

  Mikahl spun away from his friend and thrust with his sword. He managed to stick the raging monster with its tip. It roared and slapped the blade aside and charged at him with savage purpose this time. As he drew back Ironspike’s blade, he saw Hyden jerk up into consciousness. Mikahl started to twist and spin and cleaved the thing before him across the middle, but a sour note in the chorus of his mind caused him to glance toward the corner where the scorpion had gone. Dripping a slick yellow substance from its body, it scrabbled at him with deceptive speed. Mikahl leapt out of its way, but barely. The scorpion stinger dug deeply into the freakish breed beast’s leg. The monster swatted the bug away and screamed out a horrible roar. Clutching at the wound, seemingly forgetting its attack on Mikahl, the hairy beast went to a knee. Mikahl looked on in shocked horror as the beast’s leg swelled with a visible quickness right before his eyes. He didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the monster’s ill fate, though. He took one step, then another, and swung down at the creature’s neck. Ironspike sliced through cords, bone, and gristle with almost no resistance. The monster’s roar of pain ceased abruptly, leaving the cell empty of sound, save for the symphony of the blade’s magic in Mikahl’s head, and the splattering of blood on the floor as it spurted from the stump of the malformed breed beast’s neck.

  ***

  Hyden felt as if he’d been thrown down a flight of stone stairs.

  “Are you all right?” Mikahl asked him as he stepped over the huge corpses lying in the middle of the cell.

  “Aye,” Hyden grunted. His voice sounded unsure. “I took a whack on the head.” He reached back and found the knot forming on the side of his skull.

  Mikahl reached the tip of Ironspike down and touched Hyden on the shoulder. He called forth its healing powers and sent them sparkling through his friend’s body. Hyden shuddered and looked up.

  “Whahh!” he said. “That feels fargin strange, Mik.”

  “But better, huh?” Mikahl grinned.

  “Aye.”

  Mikahl reached down and helped him to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Hyden said sincerely. He walked over to where his bow lay and reached down to pick it up. It was too late when he saw the scorpion skitter out of the shadows at him. By the time he understood what he was seeing, the thing’s stinger was pulling out of his stomach just below his breast bone. The pain he felt explode inside him was so intense that he couldn’t even scream when he stumbled over backwards into Mikahl.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Lord Antone,” Ra’Gren growled from his throne, trying to keep his anger in check. “As of this moment Battle Lord Ra’Carr is relieved of duty. He cannot demand more men.”

  “Who’s to lead the forces against Jarrek then?” the now stupefied messenger asked.

  The King of Dakahn cocked his head thoughtfully before answering. “It seems that we took the bottleneck in the first place, after Captain Da’Markell arrived with my cavalry.” Ra’Gren was speaking aloud, but mostly to himself. Then sharply he commanded the attention of the court’s scribe with a bump of his trident’s butt on the floor. “Write up a command! Declare Captain Da’Markell as my new Battle Lord. Lord Ra’Carr is to travel to Oktin immediately, where he will take command of the forces that are arriving there. He is to use those men to defend the Valleyan border from Oktin north. There are no bridges across the Kahna north of Oktin, and the river is far too deep to be waded, so he might just be able to manage the task.”

  The scribe chuckled dutifully, as did a few of the other court attendees.

  “Also,” Ra’Gren added, “have Lord Cryden accompany him. “The slave trainer did well harassing the Seaward troops as they marched through Archa, and Alliak. Rank him as lieutenant and make sure he knows to report all of Lord Ra’Carr’s actions to me.”

  A representative of Overlord Paleon of Oktin had been listening from the front pew. He stood and bowed his head and waited for the King’s attention. Ra’Gren stared at him for a few long moments then harrumphed and gave the nod for the man to speak.

  “Majesty, I am one of Lord Paleon’s underlords. He sent me to request troops to replace those that the Seaward army killed when they passed through, but I see that your wisdom is far ahead of our requests. How many men can I tell my lord that he should expect and what…?” He made a pained expression of confusion. “What pray should I tell my lord of Ra’Carr’s ascension to the command of his men in relation to my lord’s current position.”

  Ra’Gren sighed. He was of a mind to empty the coffers into the hold of a ship and sail to Harthgar, leaving these boot-licking cowards behind. Either that, or put on his armor and lead his army into Wildermont himself. These fools wouldn’t dare ask half the questions they did, not if he was hefting his trident on his shoulder.

  “Tell Lord Paleon that, until a time when the military concerns of my kingdom are settled, Lord Ra’Carr is assuming the position of overlord of Oktin. Assure Paleon though, that he will assume the seat that Pa’Peryn’s death left vacant once this skirmish with Valleya and Seaward has reached a conclusion.”

  “My thanks, Majesty,” the advisor groveled with a deep bow. “May I enquire the number of men you’re sending?” he asked hesitantly.

  “You may not,” Ra’Gren dismissed him with a wave. Out of curiosity, the King asked a man sitting at the scribe’s table a question. “How many men did we leave here in O’Dakahn?”

  The man began rummaging through scrolls, most of which tried to curl back up as quickly as he unrolled them. After a moment he scratched his head. “Some forty-five-hundred cavalry, approximately eight thousand swordsmen, and twenty-five-hundred archers are left, Majesty.”

  “It seems to me that, with Ra’Carr and Cryden guarding the Northern Valleyan border, the Dragon Queen’s demo
n beast guarding the Lokahna Bridge, and Battle Lord Da’Markell pressing Wildermont, we need not worry about being attacked here.” Ra’Gren spoke matter of factly, but he was fishing for suggestions, or faults in his line of thinking from those gathered at court. The only fault of thinking, though, was the fact that he actually thought someone might speak up and point out an error in his judgment. He’d gigged more men with his trident in the last few months than he had in a decade. No one dared to voice an opinion.

  “Even if Shaella’s demon fails, she has Princess Rosa,” Ra’Gren continued assessing the situation aloud.

  Lord Antone listened intently. He had been sent here to get more men for the upcoming invasion of Wildermont, and he liked where his king was headed.

  “If we leave twenty-five hundred cavalry, half the swords, and fifteen hundred archers to guard O’Dakahn, that leaves what, ten thousand men to send to Seareach? Do you think that will be enough to take Wildermont?”

  The question wasn’t asked to anyone in particular, and Lord Antone didn’t want to correct his King’s arithmetic, especially since the error was favorable to his cause. “Ten thousand more men would serve our new Battle Lord perfectly,” Antone said encouragingly. “In fact, with the reinforcements you’ve already sent, the taking of Wildermont under Da’Markell’s leadership should go quite smoothly.”

  Ra’Gren smiled at Antone as if the young lord had just helped him defeat some great enemy. “Is there anything else we need for the invasion?”

  “Should we expect any help from the Dragon Queen, or her wizards?” Lord Antone couldn’t help but ask.

  “Do you think they’re needed with all of those men?”