The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu

by Julian Benoit

  “You really must learn to shield your thoughts when you converse in that manner, my young sorcerer,” High Priest Mahuizohm informed them, from the center of the large circular chamber. “You may as well have been shouting out in the corridor.” The chamber was easily twenty yards across, with a domed ceiling supporting itself without any internal supports. The central part of the floor stood nearly a man’s height lower than the doorway, forming a sunken circle, about ten yards across, with a black stone altar at the very center. Its obvious intent was an auditorium of some sort, as five rings of raised stone benches circled the presentation area. Additional furniture and benches, these littered with various works in progress, specimens and artifacts, filled the central floor, indicating that someone had repurposed the chamber as a work area. The High Priest stood in front of the altar, facing the ramp leading up to the entrance. “Please enter my friend and your companions as well. There is no need for those weapons; let us converse as civilized men.”

  “We can converse priest, but we’ll keep our weapons just the same.” The men entered the chamber cautiously, looking up and around for possible traps, as they advanced.

  “Very well, but this display is highly unnecessary. You come for the girl, I presume.”

  “Yes,” Aleron answered. He could see the faint glow of Eilowyn’s amulet on the altar, to the priest’s side.

  “Ah, what have we here? Is that what I think it is, strapped to your back? Andhanimwhid? So, a king has returned to the throne of Sudea. My apologies, Your Grace, I had no idea who I was addressing.”

  “I have no time for pleasantries, priest. Where is Lady Eilowyn?”

  “Your Grace, we have all the time in the world for pleasantries. Neither your weapons nor your magic will avail you in this place.” On that signal, numerous hidden alcoves opened in the wall surrounding the chamber, emitting soldiers armed with crossbows and various close quarters weapons. A quick glance behind them, revealed ranks armed men in position outside the door. Aleron and his companions found themselves surrounded and outnumbered, at least ten to one. Mahuizohm softly uttered something in Kolixtlani that Aleron did not catch and he felt the power drain from his body. “Tell your soldiers to hold fast, do not advance,” he told whoever was in charge of the contingent and Aleron heard someone behind him relay the command.

  “Stand down, but keep hold of your weapons,” Aleron told the others. “He just told them to hold fast.”

  “I see that you understand much of our language, Your Grace, most unusual for a soldier, but then you’re not just a soldier. You must sense the total draining of magical energy that just ensued. Wonderful stuff this Thallasian bloodstone is; we only discovered it because of the war. Prior to that, the Thallasian sorcerers kept it a closely guarded secret.”

  “I’m familiar with it, priest.”

  “Please, call me Mahuizohm. Unshielded, bloodstone draws all red magic to itself, but built into a device, it serves as a repository of power, like your sorcerers use the blue quartz. We have long known that we can be build blue quartz into a power trap as well, though it naturally works as a repository with no special treatment. For safety’s sake, I have installed both types of trap in my study, as one can never tell who might attack.”

  Aleron glanced back at the pommel of the great sword on his back and was relieved to see it still glow with inner blue light, though he knew that if he attempted to draw on the power within, the traps would rob it from him. “Do you really think this will stop me Mahuizohm? I came for Eilowyn and I intend to leave with her.”

  “Oh, that will not be possible, Your Grace; she is now officially betrothed to Prince

  Ehacatl, heir to Achcauhtli, King of Kolixtlan. It seems she did not believe you would come for her, so she chose instead to work toward a peace between our realms. If you like, the King has many beautiful daughters and I am sure he would gladly marry one to the heir to the throne of Sudea. Thus joined, our alliance will be the most powerful the world has seen since the Great War.”

  “Still not interested.” Aleron thought through his options. They could attempt to fight their way out, at ten to one odds, with the enemy holding the choke point. That would likely see them all dead. On the other hand, they could surrender and try to find a way out later. He did not doubt that Mahuizohm had some way to shield himself from the effects of a power trap, so rushing the priest was out. He glanced up to the ceiling, seeing the polished light tunnels from the rooftop providing diffuse natural lighting, when the idea came to him. He focused his concentration for a moment and his companions noticed the gasp of recognition from the suddenly wide-eyed High Priest. The chamber erupted with bright green luminescence, lasting a score of heartbeats. Small plants on one of the benches capriciously overflowed their pots, twining out onto the floor. Crocks on another bench bubbled and overflowed. The soldiers surrounding them grew withered and frail, several toppling as the armor became too much for their aged bodies to support. Mahuizohm, aged beyond comprehension, knelt by the altar, clutching his chest. Aleron strode down the ramp, toward the priest, swatting away two bolts launched by archers still in possession of the faculties to shoot. Other bolts flew wild and soldiers attempting to advance stumbled and fell, as old age took them. Geldun and Barathol mowed down those within reach and still on their feet and then turned their attention to the doorway. Fresh troops, not caught in the blaze, began their advance into Mahuizohm’s study. Aleron reached the priest and placed one hand on his head. Mahuizohm’s eyes glazed over as Aleron peeled back his mind like the layers of an onion. The High Priest collapsed when Aleron released his head and turned his attention back to the rest of the chamber. Snatching up the amulet from the altar, he placed it around his neck and advanced to assist his friends at the door. “Let me through!” he shouted, as he came up behind his friends. They held the entrance well, but being on the downhill side and outnumbered, it was doomed to not last. His friends stepped to the side, as he waded in, twin blades singing. A blast of blue flashed and crackled, as soon as he cleared the door. Turning back to the others, he said, “All clear.” Barathol and Geldun stepped over bodies into the corridor to see clouds of fine gray ash lazily settle to the floor, joining the older dust.

  “That’s a nice trick,” Geldun commented.

  “Yeah, that would have been handy in a few of the scrapes we’ve found ourselves in,” Barathol added.

  “Whoa!” Geldun exclaimed. “What happened to you? You look old as dirt.” Geldun eluded to the fact that Aleron aged from channeling so much of the green energy at once, though he shielded himself from most of the effects. Green magic acts to facilitate growth, but for living things with a set lifespan, it eventually brings old age and death.

  He glanced at the now rough skin of his exposed hands and replied, “Grandfather warned me about using that form, but I had little choice.” Now that he had the time to think about it, his knees and back felt a bit more stiff than they used to. He noticed his companions bleeding from several minor wounds, so he reached out to them and placed a hand on each one’s shoulder. Healing energy passed through him, into his friends and their bruises and lacerations faded and knitted together. All that remained of their wounds was a few smears of blood and faint pink lines. “Now my knees feel better.”

  “I feel great now, but you still look old,” Barathol informed him.

  Geldun nodded in agreement. “Fifty, at least.”

  Aleron looked to his weathered hands again and said, “Time to try something else.” He concentrated once more and a faint yellow-green glow bathed his form. His companions watched as his facial features reverted to those of a much younger man. “How about now?” he asked the pair.

  “Much better,” Geldun answered, “but you still seem older, just not old.”

  Aleron began to realize that the combination of green and yellow magic works to regenerate, but it would not reverse aging beyond healthy adulthood. “Well, we don’t have time for anything else right now. I know where they are holdi
ng Ellie and it looks like it will be a fight to get her out. Let me cover up this mess; that will stall them for a little while.” He returned to the doorway, kicked a stray arm to the inside and drew the door closed. The once flowing symbols now stood as raised letters, unmoving. With a slight gesture of his right hand, the bloodstains of the doorway dissolved in a spray of blue sparks. With another gesture, he reactivated the wards and the script began morphing as it had when they arrived. Turning back to them, he said, “The stairwell is just around the bend, to the right, but we’ll run a full circle first, to cover all these tracks. I’ll take up the rear, this time, so let’s go.” They formed up and began to jog down the corridor, Geldun on the right, with Barathol slightly behind and to the left, covering his shield side with the pike. Aleron followed, with swords drawn and casting a curtain of blue energy behind them, incinerating everything they passed and leaving a smooth layer of fine, dusty ash behind. He had many things to think about, as they ran; Mahuizohm’s mind held more than just Eilowyn’s whereabouts.

  Chapter 32

  Shilwezday, Day 26, Squash Moon. 8765 Sudean Calendar

  Zormat started from his meditation, Mahuizohm’s anguish resounding in his mind like a clanging gong. Someone killed the priest and was none too gentle about it, shredding the man’s mind in the process. An enemy of such power did not bode well for the cause of the One True God. They sailed the open sea again, having exited the Wabani Inlet, as the Adari referred to it, several days past. He could sense the power of Zadehmal now, drawing him north with visions of fire and ice. He was too close now to think of turning back. The Kolixtlani would have to sort this out for themselves. Once he had his father’s weapon, he would free him and return his father’s power to him. Then, he thought, none on Aertu could stand against them. The time is close now Father, to bring the One True God back to his dominion.

  ***

  The ancient tutor left her and Eilowyn waited for the mid-day meal that followed her lesson. She felt refreshed by the cool breeze blowing through the open windows. Kolixtla is a bit warmer than Arundell, but a good sight cooler than the sweltering Cop-Castia border she recently passed through. Attendants soon returned with food. She noted that there seemed to be more and larger trays than in the days prior. The servants moved to the edge of the room just as two guards posted inside the doorway. An official stepped inside, shouted something in Kolixtlani about a prince, the rest she didn’t catch and then stepped to the side and bowed deeply. The female attendants bowed as well and Eilowyn took this as a cue, leaving her chair and genuflecting in the manner of Sudean ladies. She noted trousers of purple silk, richly embroidered with silver thread, bloused over tall boots of soft red leather.

  “Rise, please, my Princess!” the newcomer announced. “Bowing is for those below my station, not my future wife!” Bristling at the implication of his words, she looked up to see a tall and handsome man, with olive complexion. The oddly slanted eyes and high cheekbones punctuated by a proud aquiline nose, which appeared to have been broken at least once. He wore a short-sleeved gambeson of the same purple cloth and silver embroidery, belted at the waist and extending to mid-thigh. One of the curious, cleaver-like, Kolixtlani swords hung from the belt and his thick muscled arms sported splinted vambraces of fine leather and gold inlaid steel. The man was obviously a fighter and not some coddled prince. He barked something else in his native tongue, causing the servants and the official to recover and then the official proceeded to direct the servants about their business. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, reaching out to help her rise. She took his hands graciously and he continued, “I am Prince

  Ehacatl, heir to the throne of Kolixtlan. Please, allow me to seat you.” She let him lead her to her seat and push in her chair. She picked up the scent of fresh sweat on a clean body and horses, as if he only just finished exercising. He took the seat opposite her and the servants immediately sprang into action, placing lap cloths, pouring drinks and delivering the first course. Noting the slight crinkle of her nose, he explained, “I must apologize, that I allowed my riding practice to extend too late to afford time to bathe.”

  “That is not at all a concern, my Lord Prince. I must say you have a strong command of my native tongue. I apologize that I cannot say the same for my mastery of yours.”

  “That is quite all right, my Princess. I realize that others do not consider our language important enough to teach. That is an unfortunate situation that I hope to see remedied in the near future. Those raised in the royal house are taught the languages of our neighbors, as a matter of course,” he continued. “I must say, you are much lovelier than I even hoped.”

  “Thank you, Lord Prince,” she replied, blushing at the compliment.

  “Please, call me Ehacatl. May I have the privilege to address you by your given name?

  “Yes, of course Eh…acatl,” she stumbled slightly at the unfamiliar pronunciation. “I am called Eilowyn.”

  “Eilowyn…I like the sound of that. It is fitting for one beautiful as you are, like a jewel.” The prince continued to compliment her, as they enjoyed the mid-day meal together. Despite her reservations at being captive and in love with another, she found it difficult to dislike this handsome, gracious warrior. He answered her questions about Kolixtlan and she likewise, answered many of the questions he had about Sudea, carefully guarding anything that she thought useful against her people, but giving trivial information freely. She learned that he served as commander to an elite cavalry company that often engaged Sudean forces in the northern reaches of the country.

  “Perhaps you have met my betrothed?” she suggested. “He is a marine and has spent much time on that front. Tall, blonde hair and moustache, he wields two cutlasses, normally.” She noted a glint of recognition in his expression and took some pleasure in that, but the prince said nothing to acknowledge her comment.

  “I hope to convince you to accept a new life here in our fair kingdom, my Princess. Neither the King nor I will force you into an unwanted marriage. As a hostage, you are too valuable to ever trade away and your life here will be tedious, at best. As my Princess and someday, my Queen, you will be responsible for ending the hostilities between our peoples. For that you will be loved by all and Kolixtlan will be at your feet.”

  ***

  “This is likely to get ugly,” Aleron said as they reentered the stairwell. “They know we’re here now and it won’t be long until the whole palace is on alert. As soon as those soldiers fail to return with us in tow, the alarm will go up.”

  “Do you think they’ll find the bodies?” Geldun asked, as they sped up the gently curved staircase, toward the roof.

  “Not for awhile,” he replied. “They will have to find a priest that knows the wards or is stronger than the one who set them. Either way, that will take some time.”

  They burst out through the bulkhead and onto the roof. Barathol uttered an oath, as he turned left in time to duck a sword strike. Geldun peeled right to engage a second guard. Aleron had opportunity to survey the situation as he exited the bulkhead and scanned the entire rooftop. A pair of guards placed themselves to either side of the opening but the speed of the marine’s exit provided enough surprise to delay their attacks on the trio. Barathol beat back his opponent, pushing until he rounded the bulkhead, forcing his adversary back to back with the other guard. Both guards carried short double-edged swords, widest at the chisel-pointed tip and tall skinny shields. The weapons, sandals, segmented cuirasses and ptureged skirts, leaving the legs bare, except for greaves, marked these men as foot soldiers. Kolixtlani cavalry wore boots, trousers and lamellar armor and wielded longer swords of the same cleaver-like style. Geldun held his opponent at bay, neither gaining nor losing quarter. Mere moments sufficed for Aleron to take in the scene and deliver twin bolts of blue lightning from the tips of his cutlasses. The smell of charred flesh filled the air as the soldiers fell, the gaping wounds in their chests smoking at the edges. Barathol and Geldun stopped to catch their bre
aths and watched, as Aleron’s eyes seemed to glaze over. The bulkhead faded into a cloud of white mist, too bright to look at directly. They shielded their eyes until the glare died down and when they were able to look again, they saw the stairwell plugged with a solid slab of shiny black stone.

  “How did…Never mind,” Geldun said, as Barathol stood goggle-eyed.

  “Same thing as when I turn us to ravens,” Aleron replied to Geldun’s unfinished question. “Air is substance too, so I changed stone, wood and some air into a slab of black glass a yard thick. It will be a while before they have easy access to this rooftop again. I got a good idea of where they have Ellie. See the tower to the center?” The others turned to where he pointed and voiced affirmation. Several hundred yards distant, a tall spire rose over one hundred feet above the red-tiled rooftops of the sprawling palace complex. “Let’s go then,” he stated, as they veered back into their raven disguises.

  Flapping into the sky, they saw soldiers, priests, priestesses and acolytes scurrying about in the courtyard below. Obviously, word of their arrival was out. Several runners moved out in different directions, including the tower that was the object of their attention. “We need to move fast, before they bundle her up and hide her somewhere else.”

  ***

  “Your Highness,” a messenger shouted through the doorway, as he plowing into the suddenly lowered pikes of the guards. Eilowyn could not understand much else of what the young soldier managed to get out between gasping to catch his breath. Something about an attack and she thought she caught the High Priest’s name in there as well. Ehacatl leapt to his feet and shouted orders to the servants. She recognized her own name and something about safety or security among the shouts.

  The official who had accompanied the Prince sprang into action at Ehacatl’s command and came to her, saying, “You must come with me, My Lady. The palace is under some sort of attack and I must ensure your safety.” He shouted orders in Kolixtlani and her attendants joined him in escorting her off to a back room, centrally located, with no windows. It had the look of a well appointed prison cell and Eilowyn guessed it to be just that, for important prisoners, like uncooperative hostages. A single small bed, one chair, a reading desk and a foot locker made up the furnishings of the room. The two women guided her through the door by her elbows, while the official said, “You will be safe in here, My Lady, until we take care of this situation. He closed the door behind them and Eilowyn heard the muffled clank of the lock setting. She heard much shouting, accompanied by the stamp of numerous feet and the clank of weapons and armor, only somewhat muffled by the thick iron banded wooden door. The attendants continued to pull her toward the back of the room, away from the door. As they sat her in the lone chair, she sensed the noise subside, replaced by cold silence. The soldiers on the other side were waiting, patiently and quietly, for whatever might come.