A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes)

by Craig P Roberts

  Those three kingdoms were allies from near the beginning of the Ten Kingdoms. When High-King Maran died, his son, Meltane, took the throne and the first conflict in the Ten Kingdoms came to pass. Meltane’s younger brother, Jarod, wished to set up his own kingdom. But an eleventh kingdom would go against the teachings of the Ten. It is said he claimed the Ten said nothing of just ten kingdoms. This was madness of course, as there were ten High-Gods and therefore, there must only be ten kingdoms, surely. There was Soju, the eleventh, the fallen High-God. But his domain was the Soju Expanse where the souls of evil mortals spend eternity burning in the sun. An eleventh kingdom would surely be cursed.

  Prince Jarod’s rebel army was crushed and peace restored to the Ten Kingdoms. But from that day, High-King Meltane declared that each of the kingdoms may only have one thousand guards in their armies. All guards were to receive their training in Yarth Tal and Tromon Tal. They had to swear an oath to First Kingdom before being posted to their serving kingdoms. It was the will of the gods to maintain peace in the Ten Kingdoms, as none would have an advantage over the other…save First Kingdom of course. And First Kingdom, Gate Kingdom and Peak Kingdom, have always had a strong bond. To this very day, that alliance has allowed them dominance over the others by means of strength in guards but also control over the High Council.

  With such history and strength, King Stewart feared what news the magisters of Mor could have that would make all he has ever known come under threat.

  King Stewart of the Wetlands awoke at dawn with his wife and queen on either side of him in his immense bed. It was as if a craftsman had joined two beds side by side. His throat was sore, most likely from snoring all night. Do I have to move from this wonderful warmth? I don’t think even Sen’Sal’s tits could lure me from this bed. The effort was made worse with the thought of the long journey ahead of them, which would begin in a few hours.

  After much flopping, grabbing and wobbling, King Stewart sat at the table next to his bed to eat breakfast and read the morning messages that had been received overnight. He was fascinated how he would always eat the same size of meal as his wife and queen enjoyed, yet they remained trim, while he gained more and more fat.

  “Has my minister been briefed on the next court?” he enquired. He was sure he had asked this already, but his mind was wandering ahead to the many things that had to be done by his council while he was away.

  “You’ve asked this already,” said Queen Tanya. Stewart went to speak again but she quickly jumped in as he drew breath, saying, “They know they have a review of stores to do too.” She paused, pouting and looking at him with wide, cheeky eyes. Words sprouted again before King Stewart could speak: “And yes, they have also been briefed on the sightings from out on the Horned Sea, as you specified.” Queen Tanya flashed him a toothy smile.

  What would I do without you, my mouthy queen? “Ah yes, our ‘impending doom’ as seen by two mad fishermen.” King Stewart was skeptical of these fishermen’s tales of ‘a fiery red light on the horizon that arched overhead like a wave’ and loud thundering booms from leagues off-shore to the north. A second report from the trading ship, Big Jamgan, did prompt him to at least brief his ministers. However, a third that they had received before dawn made him dismiss the stories as madness.

  “There was another message sent from World’s End that arrived this morning,” King Stewart continued. “It spoke of sightings of ships on the other side of Beverine’s Shield!” Stewart laughed. Beverine’s Shield surrounded the Mortal Realm; a protective, invisible, impassable barrier. It was Beverine’s gift to mortals and why She is known as the goddess of protection. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? There can be nothing outside of Beverine’s Shield, save water around us and the Yod Belt above us.”

  “Then are they simply all mad?” Queen Tanya asked, with a skeptical look, dismissing Stewart’s rant at the fantastical reports.

  “Nothing is on the other side of Beverine’s Shield,” Stewart repeated firmly.

  Queen Tanya’s lips curled. “If there can be nothing outside of a shield…then why have a shield?”

  Stewart huffed. “Reassure the people that these glows are simply a sign from Beverine that She still protects us,” he commanded, waving a fat hand in the air towards where he assumed the Blue Wanderer would be in the sky.

  Queen Tanya sighed and nodded, turning to one of the servants as he passed her chair, “Bryden, have all supplies been loaded onto the wagons?”

  “Yes, m’lady,” the bumbling, graying servant replied, dutifully.

  “Actually Bryden, the largest item is not packed yet and loaded onto the wagons,” King Stewart said, patting his bloated stomach.

  “Your Grace, we have checked your list and—”

  “And why would I include myself on a list?” Stewart smiled at his servant.

  “Yes, quite, Your Grace, quite,” was the older man’s dry response.

  Why does nobody understand my sense of humor in this place anymore?

  Later, the big round package was loaded onto the foremost wagon and strapped into position. The dark gray stone walls of the keep of Deca’Grace lurched high beside him. The random pattern of windows on the reaching sprawl of wall always annoyed Stewart. The windows were dotted in awkward places and none had the same shape as the next. If he had designed the keep, it would have been a much more logical affair, but unfortunately, he was not alive seven hundred years ago to slap King Jamgan over the head when he decided to build such an ugly, depressing structure.

  King Stewart craned his neck around. Behind, was the line of ten wagons that would trundle behind him as they journeyed south to the harbor at Beacon Shore. Queen Tanya and the beautiful jewel that was his wife, Pauline, sat behind him. Next to him was Sandunion, his chief healer, who did her best to tend to the growing physical needs of his failing body. She was an old woman with gray hair and a sagging pair of tits, but her knowledge of Hal’s teachings was the best outside of Hal Tal.

  The wagons also carried their provisions. Two of them had large covers over them and would house the royals when they had to stop on the paths overnight. Their entourage, made up of five servants and twenty guards (who walked), would sleep in tents.

  He picked the finest of his white bears to pull the wagons. The Wetlands was the only kingdom that preferred bears to broncos. They were numerous on the islands in the north and Stewart’s royal line had learned to tame them over five generations ago. They were strong and more useful in a fight than a startled bronco. Not only could one ride them into battle, if it came to it the bear would stand up and kick the shit out of anybody trying to attack its fallen rider.

  True to their name, the Wetlands’ sky poured on the first day of the journey south but the people of the two islands did not shy away from the rain. Wetlanders found a heavy sky comforting, often relaxing to the patter of drops falling on a roof. The rain gave the rolling grassy hills a purple-blue tint that felt homely.

  King Stewart’s lead wagon was uncovered and the rain pelted down on him. He felt alive with the rain soaking through his clothes, as did many in the Wetlands. The coolness gradually getting warmed by his body just felt right. Then the drying effect from the hot sun, which usually followed a downpour, made his skin tingle.

  On the evening of their second day of travel, they arrived at Kintail Hall and were hosted by one of King Stewart’s lords. Lord Bushell was a man of fifty and almost round in stature. At least I’m not the only fat one, King Stewart thought, as his lord came to the gates of his village to welcome them.

  Bushell’s two wives cared for the large royal party’s needs in the village hall. That night, they dined on spit-roasted gogor and roast potatoes drizzled in some sweet sauce that King Stewart found himself eating to the point of bursting. He rested his hands on his bloated stomach. I would willingly shove my fingers down my throat to make room for more.

  The king sat next to Lord Bushell at the same round table as Queen Tanya and his beauty, Pauline. Both of
Lord Bushell’s wives joined them at the royal table as well.

  “Your Grace, I have been meaning to speak to you in private about a matter. I feel it would be best for your ears only,” Lord Bushell said, giving a serious look to both his wives. They took the hint, leaving the table with a smile. Stewart nodded to Queen Tanya, who flared her nostrils and widened her eyes at the king. She held her ground.

  “My dear queen, if it concerns you, then I will of course pass on all of the information,” Stewart offered to the stone wall, which was Tanya’s face.

  “That is if you remember all of the information, Your Grace.” She smiled with her lips only and turned to Pauline, “Come, Pauline, let us see if we can find dessert. I think I saw them laying out some trays of cakes earlier.” The two ladies departed from the table, leaving the king and his lord alone. It was true that King Stewart had become forgetful of late and relied heavily on his queen to keep him following the correct path. She also had a habit of always being right too.

  “I am assuming this is not good news you are bringing me,” Stewart said, struggling to hold in a hiccup and a burp. As a result, he ended up with a painful little air bubble trapped in his chest.

  “I am worried that it may just be hearsay, but two fishermen returned from the mainland five days ago claiming they saw burning from the Watch King’s keep in Deca’Point. They heard screams of battle and when they turned to look, they were chased away by men with pointed teeth, wielding…bladed weapons.” Lord Bushell spoke in a hushed voice as he leaned closer to King Stewart. The lord’s fat round face had stubble all around his two chins. Bits of food crusted in the corners of his lips.

  “By So’Chor’s Cock! Bladed weapons in the Ten Kingdoms!?” Stewart spat. “Nobody in the kingdoms has used bladed weapons ever since the Great Poison.”

  For a thousand years suspicions around spilling blood made the practice undesirable, even against one’s mortal enemies. The Great Poison had changed the very way people lived and, in turn, the way they went to war. Throughout the Ten Kingdoms, Still Cities and even into the Land of the Old Ways, the weapons of choice were blunt impact long-arm forms—which, of course, were honed and practised to lethal capacity. “Could it have been the Vostos?” Stewart asked. “They are renowned for their sword-play. Disgusting cannibals! Or perhaps the Green Islanders? They are the only ones on the mainland foolish enough still to wield a bladed weapon against another mortal.”

  Bushell shook his head, wobbling his chins. “Doubtful. The Vostos haven’t made an attempt on any kingdom stronghold in centuries. They know they are too well watched! And as for the Green Islanders…it is said that the blades were large and wide and held in the palm of the hand. The tribes that live in Hal’s Forest do not use such weapons and I doubt they would have the skills to forge them. Not that it rules them out completely!”

  King Stewart rocked his head in a thoughtful nod. “And pointed teeth, you say? Were they beasts they mistook for men?”

  “They were quite sure they were mortals like you and I, Your Grace.”

  “Were they bearing any symbols?”

  “No, Your Grace, but they spoke the Known Tongue. I fear that if you travel to the mainland as planned, you may also be attacked.”

  King Stewart sat in silence, thinking. When Bushell breathed to speak, he raised a hand to silence him while he gathered his thoughts. “My lord, I thank you for your discretion in this matter, but I feel our need to get to the Still Cities outweighs this danger. We are committed to meeting with Last Kingdom and Long Kingdom. Our absence is not acceptable.”

  “But, Your Grace, I beg you to—”

  “I am not going in blindly, my friend. I plan to dream on this matter and ask the gods for guidance.”

  King Stewart used his skill of lucid dreaming most nights. It is a skill taught to every king by their father before them. Looks like my many maids will have to go without their young virile king tonight as I must walk with the gods on a more serious subject, he mused to himself as he recalled his many lucid dreams in which he was young, fit and virile in a bath filled with every woman he ever desired.

  He lay in bed. His queen and wife lay on either side of him. The bed they were provided with was not equipped to hold a king so large, let alone the two women who had to cling onto the edge for dear life. With the high wooden sealing of Kintail Hall shimmering in the fading firelight, he closed his eyes.

  His feet picked up pace. His heart raced as the wind blew through his hair. The rain slapped against his face, refreshing the mind and soul. Dark clouds hung overhead but these were welcome in the Wetlands. The land came to an end in front of him as he jumped to a stop. The huge wide sea crashed noisily only ten footfalls away, smashing against the rocks just below him. King Stewart walked forward and stood at the very edge of the coast, looking out across to the faint line of the mainland. He stretched his muscular legs and arms and breathed in the salty wet air. The blue haze of dusk crept across the land and sea. Everything around him darkened but a break in the clouds highlighted the waves and grass. The full, perfectly formed moon, shone down brightly.

  The full moon! I am in a dream. He thought of his father as he saw the smooth moon that should, of course, be the broken surface of Scarred Nahar. It glared unnaturally round, full and perfect. The full moon was his father’s lucid cue that he had passed on to Stewart.

  He sat down at the edge of the land and hung his fully able legs off the side, swinging them in a carefree way, purely because he could. With a wave of his hands, the clouds parted further. The winds calmed.

  Then he took control of his dream as his father had taught him so long ago. He reached for the mainland and drew it closer. To his right, across the sea, he saw two large faces stretching all the way to the sky. They smiled at him menacingly, showing pointed teeth. The gods were confirming Bushell’s warnings of the pointed-toothed assassins waiting for them at their planned destination. As he scanned the mainland, he saw his old friend King Locutus of Last Kingdom walking towards the two masks. Locutus was dead so Stewart did not know why the gods would be showing him this.

  He looks younger than when I last saw him. It was as if this was an image of the former king from when they were young men. Romarus! This must represent his son, the new king, he decided, as he remembered what his father had once taught him: “In a lucid dream, the gods can only show what is already known.”

  Stewart had never met this boy, King Romarus. So the image of the boy’s father was the closest thing in his memories. Lucid dreaming was not a vision of the future, but instead it was the gods guiding one through one’s own path and knowledge.

  We must still rendezvous with Last Kingdom as planned but we have no way of getting a message to them, to warn them of the danger. And there could be a shitload of them. I am seeing two but who is to say there are not thousands. He needed to relax. A click of his fingers brought a young naked wench to his side, who slid behind him and rubbed his shoulders. Her firm touch cleared his thoughts. If fishermen were able to escape from the attacks happening on the mainland, then the threat mustn’t be so great any longer as to threaten the strength of those traveling from Last Kingdom and my own. Whatever has supposedly happened to the Watch King has surely passed.

  He opened his eyes again to look at the coast and saw the two masks with their eyes still fixed on him. He looked south-east to where the coast was much closer and his mind was made up. A quicker crossing in smaller boats will draw less attention. We will row across the narrow part of the channel, making the landing safer for ourselves. It will also allow us to outflank any attack befalling Last Kingdom as they wait for our arrival.

  The wench’s hands were wandering lower and reaching around his body. Well, I might as well enjoy myself while asleep, as it is looking like waking isn’t going to be particularly enjoyable.

  Each kingdom has a duty to the other. Under the wing of First Kingdom, the other nine will prosper in the light of the High-Ten. Together, as one, they are strong. A
s a divided ten, they will fall.

  Prophecies 4, The Maran

  Londenia

  The Stench of Death

  They had left Hal’s Forest behind two days past and stood on a ridge overlooking the desolation of the capital of the Watch Kingdom, Deca’Point.

  Taigo had agreed to guide them through the forest. Londenia was grateful as they had passed another two tribes, wielding spears (as they called them), and Taigo’s words and clicks were much appreciated. Without that boy, we would likely have had our heads removed simply through a lack of understanding of their strange tongue. Taigo was a wonder—a boy who had his home ripped away from him in such a brutal manner, to then wander through a hostile forest to find his mother’s tribe and become respected as a leader. He has achieved much through adversity and yet, he is still willing to help those in need. Even though he was what they called a hybrid—a blue-eyed child, born of the seed of a king in the belly of a woman of brown eyes—he had the air of a first prince. He was raised as such by King Servin. Taigo was his only son to speak of, because, apart from him, the king’s wife had borne only girls.

  As the party looked over the ridge, the sight brought a tear to Londenia’s eyes. The land was scorched black and structures smoked. Even now, one small dwelling was still ablaze. The interior smoldered red hot through the skeleton wood of the crumbling roof. Dark clouds of gray smoke hung over the larger structures.