Fogle Eric - Forge of the Gods 01 - The Last Knight (V1.0)

by 5kops

  The crowd parted to allow the rider free passage to the gatehouse. The courier nodded curtly in appreciation and spurred his mount forward with graceful haste. It seemed to the squire that the man's haggard face held an unhappy story. Areck recognized the noble bearing of the courier's origin: his dark brown hair, chiseled features, and hawkish nose indicated that the man was Almassian.

  The courier's steed bore King Roderick's personal mark. There could be no doubt about whence he came.

  The rider brought his horse to a halt and scanned the faces at the gate, locking eyes with Lord Silvershield. "My lord, I apologize for my abrupt­ness, but I come with urgent news for Duke Hawkwind."

  "What news is that?" asked Lord Silvershield.

  "I have a message of extreme urgency," answered the man, pulling a small parchment from his tunic and handing it to Bowon. "Please, my lord, I cannot reveal the nature of my visit, but that writ is marked with the royal seal."

  Lord Silvershield studied the seal for a moment and gestured to Areck. "Allow me to quicken your journey, then, by offering the service of my per­sonal squire, Areck of Brenly. He will guide you swiftly through the city and to the ducal palace."

  Areck understood the order, nodded to his commander, and strode off toward the small stables near the gatehouse. He grabbed a bridled stallion, pulled his leg up, and prepared to maneuver the crowded streets of Aresleigh.

  He silently vowed to see this man to the palace with all possible haste. He did not question the critical news that had prompted the man's rush across Arsgoth, though he couldn't help but speculate.

  ****

  As Areck led the courier along the King's Road, gilded with marble and gold, traffic began to thicken. He groaned inwardly, realizing that going west had been a poor decision. It was a common misconception among newcomers entering the city that the larger road was more accessible during the day. In truth, the King's Road veered west then north into a large open

  plaza of vendors, laborers, and other mercantile businesses, often filled with several hundred people.

  Seeing no alternative, Areck decided to try a side alley, a shortcut that would increase the distance of their ride but would reduce the amount of time it took to reach the inner city. He just hoped that it would be better then maneuvering through a throng of commoners. The courier rode be­hind him, eyes alight with wonder.

  "This city is a grand sight!" the messenger said in awe. "Natalinople doesn't hold such magic as this!"

  Areck nodded as he led them down several other side streets—letting the courier take it all in and ask questions about the city—before he turned down another alley that put the riders in plain view of the inner city walls. Within moments the pair exited the alley and entered a large square adjacent to the inner gatehouse.

  Areck felt a slight tickle as arcane magic surrounded them. Though he could not see the magical flow, he sensed the aura of creation that exuded from the inner city. The feeling always made him shudder.

  "I still get shivers when I gaze upon the inner city," Areck said when he saw his companion's mouth agape. A brief speculation of Heaven's gran­deur passed through Areck's mind. He wondered how much greater God's Halls of Law and Order must be compared to the inner city, which was one of the greatest things he had ever seen. "Have you never visited Aresleigh, sir?"

  "My name is Arawnn," replied the messenger, "and, yes, this is my first trip inside the duchy. Too bad it is under such dire circumstances. This looks like a city unaccustomed to tragedy."

  Areck pondered the cryptic message as the courier's smile faded into grimness. He tried to place himself in the man's position and decided that maybe the look was not so much from bad news as from sleep deprivation. He decided to show a gesture of honor by offering the man a chance for some small talk.

  "You look tired, Messenger Arawnn, and ready for conversation," Areck said thoughtfully. "When you have conducted your business with the duke, come find me; I have never been to Natalinople and would be happy to possibly show you around and barter some stories."

  "I just might take you up on that, Squire, if I'm not forced back out on the road," the courier replied with a slight nod.

  As the riders neared the inner gatehouse, a knight-captain greeted them. Areck watched the messenger offer the royal seal. The knight-captain took the seal and examined it, studied the squire, and waved them in with a dis­missive gesture.

  The pair passed through the grand gatehouse and into an open area that looked like another market. The marble-tiled road became marble slabs, inlaid with the golden lion of the ducal house.

  Areck gave the courier a moment to soak it all in; the crystal spires of the Arcane Institute soared to the southwest and the massive marble domes of the Bre'Dmorian Academy were barely visible to the northeast. Before the messenger could speak, Areck spurred his mount down a street lined with inns and temples. When they reached the palace, he heard the courier gasp.

  Though he always noticed the ducal palace when entering and exiting the city each day, it had never really impressed him, lacking the arcane pos­sibility or divine majesty of other sights. Yet Areck had to respect a man-made achievement when it was due. What had once been Aresleigh Keep, a small coastal fortress, was now a fortified palace, reconstructed with mod­ern architecture and finished with rare dwarven craftsmanship and stone.

  The achievement spoke volumes about the nobleman who ruled the city; Duke Edelin Hawkwind was a boisterous man who had inherited his uncle's title due to the old duke's sudden death. In only nine years, the new duke had changed the port into a thriving metropolis, brought economic power into the region, and quintupled the population. With so much change and prosperity, the duke had become exceedingly popular with the locals who poured into the grand city. The sudden population explosion had forced the duke to expand the original city walls by reducing the old city to rubble and rebuilding a rich inner city, a working class outer city, and a new, better version of Aresleigh.

  Areck had tried to find fault in the noble's strategy but finally conceded that Duke Hawkwind had to be a remarkable man to achieve so much. The sheer effort that went into the rebuilding of the city, and Hawkwind Palace, must have been tremendous. It made him wonder if there was magic bound into the stone. According to rumors, the duke had specifically instructed that his palace be erected without priestly aid from the Bre'Dmorians or wiz-ardly aid from the Arcane Institute. But one had to wonder.

  Perhaps it is pride, Areck thought, wondering why a man would try to produce something perfect without assistance from a higher power.

  Areck dismounted and stroked his stallion's muzzle before passing the reigns over to a young stable boy. The squire led the goggling courier up a flight of marble stairs to stand before a pair of elite guardsmen whose pol­ished armor gleaming in the sun.

  The guardsmen, looking straight ahead, dropped their halberds to block the duo's path. Areck snapped to attention, embarrassed that he had broken protocol. The courier followed suit.

  After a moment the doors opened and an elderly man dressed in bro­caded green silk with a dark blue sash across his chest stepped out to greet

  them. Areck recognized the nobleman as Lord Faldorn Caldey, a frontier baron who now served as the lord chamberlain of the duke's household. The chamberlain was a polite man with little patience for either the faith-driven Bre'Dmorians or the political scheming of upper nobility. Areck as­sumed that Lord Caldey didn't believe in the One God, yet despite this ma­jor shortcoming the man had a reputation of being honorable, stern, and precise in his job.

  A sudden thought struck Areck: the lord chamberlain had been awaiting their arrival. This meant that Lord Silvershield had sent Areck not to ensure the messenger received a quick passage but to buy time to send runners to the palace. The realization made Areck's skin crawL as though his honor had been sullied, lie decided that, though it was quite un knightly, he would ask his lord about this.

  Why must I assess everything? Areck reprimanded himself
, trying to keep his expression blank. These are blasphemous thoughts. Lord Silvershield has his reasons and it's not my job to question them.

  Areck watched as the messenger introduced them and explained their purpose. It looked like the chamberlain would ask Areck to leave when the nobleman touched his ear momentarily, seemed to talk to himself, then nodded his head in what could only be understanding.

  "This way, gentlemen," Lord Caldey said, turning on his heel as he walked into the palace. The guards raised their halberds to allow the men to pass.

  Areck had never been inside the palace before, and its majestic splendor overwhelmed him. When he realized he was gaping at the thick marble col­umns, rich tapestries, and the polished floor that mapped all of Aresleigh, he attempted to close his mouth. He turned to see the messenger caught up in the same wonderment.

  A small cough interrupted Areck's awe. "Gendemen, I was under the impression that you were in a hurry." the chamberlain emphasized the last word. "If you will follow me, I will lead you to the duke."

  The pair followed the chamberlain down a corridor that ended abruptly at a gigantic, elaborate door. With a small gesture, the chamberlain held up his hand for them to wait and entered by himself.

  Most likely dwarven, Areck thought, ascertaining that the intricate designs on the door couldn't have been made by man. The squire made a quick mental note: once he arrived back in the Citadel of the Hand, he would do some research on dwarven craftsmanship.

  Areck was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the chamberlain open the door. Nor did he see the man beckon them both forward. It wasn't until another discreet cough was put forth that the wide-eyed squire looked up.

  "Young man," said Lord Caldey, looking at Areck, "it is not my place to discipline you, but if you do not consider a meeting with Duke Hawkwind an important enough honor, I will be forced to speak to your knight-commander."

  Areck's face reddened at the reprimand. I am embarrassing myself, he thought furiously, apologizing to the elder noble. He should be honored to meet a man who worked so well in The One's name, a man who had rede­fined how a truly dignified nobleman should act.

  "Your Grace, per your request, may I present the messenger, Arawnn of Almassia, and his escort, Squire Areck of Brenly," the lord chamberlain bowed deeply to the duke.

  Duke Edelin Hawkwind was a middle-aged man with a hawk nose, black hair, and the sharpest eyes Areck had ever seen. He looked up from his desk, rolled a pair of scattered maps, and placed them in round containers before carefully placing his quill into an inkwell. With a powerful air of au­thority the duke pushed himself away from his desk and strode toward the three men.

  "Thank you, Lord Caldey, I think I can handle these two." The duke smiled. "Please give the guardsman a break; let them take the rest of the afternoon off."

  "Your grace?" Caldey asked, his bushy eyebrows rising in alarm.

  "Whatever Messenger Arawnn brings is for my ears only," replied the duke. "Besides, there is a Squire of the Hand in my room, should any mis­haps occur." Lord Hawkwind turned his dark eyes upon Areck. "You are trained in the arts of war, are you not?"

  As the duke's gaze penetrated Areck, the squire felt a sweeping aura of divinity emanating from the man. It was strong enough to incite Areck's unfortunate reaction of nausea in the presence of the divine. For a moment Areck was speechless. He had been prepared to deliver the messenger to the duke and go back to his duties. However, Duke Hawkwind was asking him to stay—and if he could wield a weapon. He almost didn't know what to say.

  'Yes . . . er, yes, your grace, I am a master with both the long sword and stave," Areck responded. He regarded the duke with a new respect building in his heart, realizing that God had entered this noble's life. Areck figured that he would never again meet a non-knight of such greatness, one that left him so breathless and nervous.

  "As you wish, your grace," Lord Caldey sighed, eyeing Areck with skep­ticism. "If you should need my assistance, do not hesitate to call out." The lord chamberlain left the room and barked orders at the guards.

  "Such a good man," the duke remarked. "Baron Caldey has been like a father to me since Duke Eleran passed away." There was a fleeting sadness in the duke's expression. "Look at me . . . going on forty-four seasons and

  still affected by such memories." Hawkwind wandered over to a table hold­ing several botdes of liquor. With a slow hand, the duke studied several flasks of wine before setding on a pungent apple brandy, and poured him­self a cup. He then turned to face the pair of waiting men.

  "Messenger Arawnn, you look parched," the duke said, filling a second glass for the courier. "Take this and collect your thoughts, sir; when you're ready, I wish to hear your story."

  Areck again wondered why the duke had not dismissed him. It was not his place to stand before royalty like this, and certainly not to hear private information. Areck lowered his gaze, moved silently toward the exit, and stood just to the right of the door.

  Though he had no idea why the duke had not released him, as a senior member of royalty Duke Hawkwind was to be treated like a knight-commander. The same rules applied: it was not Areck's place to question. His own speculation about the duke's motives made Areck's face glow with shame. He was here for a reason and would remain silent until the duke called upon him, doing his best to ignore the conversation.

  The messenger accepted the cup of brandy and downed the fiery liquor in one gulp. He knelt uneasily before the duke and spoke the words that would forever change the face of the Arsgoth: "Your grace, I regret to in­form you that King Roderick II has been killed on a hunting expedition in the Moonwood Forest."

  Areck nearly bit through his tongue. A chilling wave of nausea coursed through his bones.

  The king was dead.

  3

  SILENCE FOLLOWED Arawnn's announcement as both the duke and Areck let the information sink in.

  Finally, the courier held out his cup for more brandy. When Duke Hawkwind solemnly poured the messenger another cup, Arawnn contin­ued, "With this knowledge in mind, my lord, I have more urgent matters to discuss. As you know, King Roderick left no heir sitting upon the Dragon Throne. To make matters worse, dark rumors have already begun to fly in the royal court concerning those nobles present during the king's death."

  "What rumors are those?" the duke asked.

  "There can be no doubt that several of those nobles within the king's hunting party have been loyal to other factions in the past." Arawnn began with caution.

  "Were any nobles injured?" Hawkwind asked, his eyes clouded in thought.

  "One, your lordship," Arawnn replied. "The only noble actually in the presence of the king was Duke Valimont Windson of Thames."

  "Was he questioned?" Duke Hawkwind continued.

  The courier nodded. "The Duke of Thames has been put to the ques­tion several times and has revealed little information regarding events. His story is that he was knocked unconscious when the crossbow bolt impacted the king."

  "Was Duke Windson still in Natalinople when you left?" Duke Hawk­wind asked.

  "Nay, my lord," responded the courier. "His retainers announced that he left in fear of his life."

  The duke frowned at the statement. "I'm sure Duke Windson left for good reason, sir, and I would advise you remember your station. The Duke of Thames has served this kingdom for well over fifteen years. However, his departure is going to make matters more complicated, especially when this news reaches the general population. How has the royal court reacted to this situation?"

  Arawnn took a moment to consider his words. "I fear the lords and la­dies of the court have already begun to send out missives to those nobles for whom they serve. For this reason Lord Constable Highman has sent me here," explained Arawnn.

  Duke Hawkwind nodded and considered the news. "He made the right choice. If those nobles with rightful claims to the throne start amassing power, especially before a Council of Lineage can be drawn, there might be civil war."

  Areck l
istened to the exchange with dread. He could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. The royal bloodline that had lasted for nearly three hundred years was over.

  "I am afraid I will need your services again, Messenger Arawnn," Duke Hawkwind said, bringing his dark eyes to the courier. "A great event is about to unfold in our kingdom, and we must move with haste to prevent any fractures. The last thing this kingdom needs is squabbling nobles, espe­cially ones willing to risk open warfare."

  "What would you have me do, your grace?" Arawnn asked.

  "I wish you to move without delay, sir," Duke Hawkwind responded. "If we can call a Council of Lineage here in Aresleigh, we might be able to prevent dire consequences. I must emphasize how important it is that the meeting occurs here."

  "Shall I leave tonight?" the courier asked wearily.

  Duke Hawkwind looked at the man with understanding. "The night is yours to do as you please, Arawnn of Almassia. However, upon the morrow you will be granted a new mount, some fresh clothes, and an escort to ride with you all the way to Natalinople. Once there, you will give my seal and a missive to Steward Landon and Lord Constable Highman; hopefully they will begin the process of calling the nobility here."

  "Are there any other instructions, your lordship?"

  Areck felt bile rise in his chest and his breath came in shallow gasps. His vision began to blur as the first stages of hyperventilation hit him.

  "Only to enjoy your night of leisure, young man. You have certainly earned it," Duke Hawkwind replied.

  "Thank you, your grace," Arawnn said with a bow. "I appreciate your offer to rest, as this squire was nice enough—" The messenger's voice was cut off by the sounds of Areck retching.

  Duke Hawkwind and Arawnn moved toward Areck with haste, concern etched on their faces. "Easy, young man," the duke said as he knelt next to the gasping squire.