The Dark Lord Cecil

by Wade Adrian

  General Gomer rode at the front, his banner man to his left, and the standard bearer of the king’s blue and gold to his right. His polished armor hadn’t been out of doors for this long in a few years.

  It felt good to be out and about again… though he didn’t recall the breastplate being so tight before. And the visor was playing hell with his mustache.

  Three hundred rode at his back. Two hundred light cavalry with bows, sabers, and spears, lead by one hundred heavy cavalry with lances. The formation being entirely cavalry was not coincidental. This threat of… skeletons was new and unknown. If things went poorly here the troops had been instructed to break into smaller groups to spread the word as swiftly as their mounts could carry them.

  Hooves and heavy horses would also, theoretically, decimate bones. Just trample them into the dirt.

  And so they rode on with caution, certainly, but more than a hint of pride. He could see it in his lieutenants. They made jokes as they rode, laughing that so many men would even be called up for so silly a thing as this.

  “The king says to do it, we do it.” Gomer scoffed, loud enough to be heard by those just behind. “You must know your place if you ever hope to advance from it.”

  The voices died away when the first skeleton appeared. They had been approaching the tower for some time, but they had yet to actually see a skeleton standing of its own volition. It was rather… unsettling.

  It made no move to stop the procession, it just stood on the side of the road watching them pass. Gomer ignored it and rode on by.

  Others appeared as they progressed. At first individuals, then small groups, then large groups… by the time they actually neared the tower the only place free of skeletons was the road itself. Beyond it was a sea of bones and skulls. They stood in trenches, they stood on rocks, on half buried ruins, and among what little vegetation was left.

  And every set of empty eyes was fixed on them. Watching them ride by. Unflinching.

  Silent.

  If it hadn’t been for all his training and years of military service, he might have been unnerved.

  “They just… stare.”

  Clearly not everyone was blessed with his background.

  “They’re not even moving. Just… waiting.”

  Gomer tried not to think about it as he passed, but he had noticed. They didn’t breathe but they still milled around slightly. They weren’t elaborate statues. Yet the tiny bit of life about them made them all the more… alien.

  “I don’t like this.” The man’s voice was higher than usual.

  “Shh!” Another lieutenant. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  “But what are they doing? What are they waiting for?”

  A third voice, low, quiet. “Probably the order to overwhelm us.”

  Gomer turned in his saddle. “Stop that. Not another word. You are soldiers, grown men. By the kings beard you’re the best we have. Start acting like it.”

  For all his stirring words… he could still hear whines and whimpers from behind as they crossed the final stretch to the walls of the tower. He would have disciplined them for it… if he was entirely sure he wasn’t making any of the sounds.

  Skeletons stood on every side. A wall of them waited in front of the tower, guarding a set of doors that looked to be on a half buried balcony. More skeletons stood to either side. None had filled in behind, thankfully. He wasn’t sure his men’s morale could have taken being boxed in.

  The set of doors opened, a pair of standard bearers of their own emerging with tattered black banners that hung limply. Wind threw Gomer’s banners about, but not those. They must be quite heavy. It made them seem… almost dead.

  A skeleton different from the rest followed behind them. It had glowing red eyes and wore a wide brimmed hat and a sword hanging from a baldric across its chest.

  “What?”

  General Gomer was a might taken aback by the bluntness of the statement… “I’m sorry-”

  “With that mustache? You should be.”

  He sat up a little straighter and taller in the saddle. “I am General Gomer. I am here on behalf of King Bl-”

  “Blah blah.” The skeleton rolled its red eyes. “I don’t care who sent you. I already asked, but since you’re a bit slow I’ll do it again. What do you want?”

  “That’s not what you asked before.”

  “I used the short version.”

  Gomer just stared. “You are an odd emissary.”

  “Am I?”

  “I seek the master of this company. Are you he?”

  “Nope.”

  The general glowered at the… thing. “Then to whom am I speaking?”

  “Well General Gomer, I’m General Murray, generally speaking.”

  Gomer’s fear of the skeletons standing around had lessened some as his ire was raised by this one. “You’re mocking me.”

  “A bit, yeah.”

  “Do you really think it wise to test a man with three hundred heavy horse at his beck and call?”

  “Well last time I did the math, I counted one hundred heavy, and two hundred piddly. And, if we’re brining algebra into this.” It held up a hand to shade its eyes, despite the hat, as it glanced off into the distance. “I’ve got… oh, I dunno. Thousands. Give or take a few hundred.”

  The skeleton wasn’t exactly wrong.

  Gomer took a breath and used the moment to steady himself. The creature was trying to rattle him, and it had been working. Clearly it wasn’t the simpleton it was pretending to be. “I seek an audience with the master of this company and of this place. I will hear your terms on what is necessary to make that happen.”

  The red eyed skeleton tilted its head a little. “Can I have your boots?”

  Clearly he was dealing with a master strategist. Its every angle of approach was a surprise that Gomer never saw coming. He was entirely on the defensive. “My boots? Why?”

  “You’re riding around. You don’t need them.”

  “I will get off the horse eventually.”

  “Absolutely. I don’t want that filthy thing inside. Probably got fleas.”

  “Fastidian is the finest horse my family has ever bred. He was trained in war by the greatest masters of the equestrian arts. His parentage is impeccable leading back to the great Parovian himself, the mount upon which William the Conquerer earned his title! He is tended by no less than four men each day, and he most certainly does not have fleas!”

  “Yeah, if you say so. For the record, Bill was a jerk.” The skeleton crossed its arms. “I still see boots on your feet.”

  There was heat behind Gomer’s eyes as he had to slowly and methodically coach his hand away from the hilt of his sword.

  This skeleton… it had so easily found points to jab at. Gomer’s pride had lain bare before it. This thing was not to be trifled with. “If that is the cost of a meeting, then I agree.”

  “Nah, I’m just messing with you.” It shrugged. “What would I do with boots? You can take… oh, lets say two guys with you, so you don’t get lonely. Everyone else has to wait out here. Nobody can take weapons in, though. And I assume you’re properly dressed under that armor?”

  Gomer sat back in his saddle. He had come expecting diplomatic channels and etiquette. He wasn’t trained for this, but it was his mission to see it through. If he was to die inside, it would happen with or without his gear. There were simply too many to assume anything less. “Agreed.”

  15

  The Dark Lord sat upon a throne made of bones… and it was dreadfully uncomfortable. Intimidation factor, sure, but who would willingly sit on something that poked them in the ribs with other ribs?

  He frowned at the chair. “Wait, are these people bones? Are these skeletons like the others?”

  Egerton nodded from his place beside Cecil’s throne. “Indeed, my lord.”

  “And they’re… okay with this? Murray said they’re… aware.”

  “These are volunteers, sir.”

  “Volunteers? R
eally?”

  “I told them they could be a throne for awhile, or they could help with excavation. They opted to be a throne.”

  “Okay, I can understand that.” Cecil held the crown in his lap. Egerton assured him he could talk with any of the skeletons if he put it on, and not just in the talking to all of them at once sense, but actually conversing. Without it he could talk to them, but not with them. Aside from the former lords, but they were different.

  Egerton adjusted his ridiculous ill-fitting coat. “I shudder to think what Muireach is doing out there.”

  Lady Aldora waved her hands, pointing at bits of rock and wood that skeletons were carrying out through a side door. “He’s buying time, that’s all that matters. I doubt he could offend them enough to start a fight. They’d be throwing their lives away and they know it.”

  Kenley was taking notes, as ever. He had agreed to stand on the opposite side of the throne and attempt to look stately. He’d seen to much to fall for any ruses himself. He knew the state of things.

  Lady Aldora believed this meeting could work out in their favor, and as her plan didn’t involve Cecil dying or going to prison he was happy to let her try.

  The old throne room was still in disarray, but it was better for the half hour they had run around trying to improve it. Old chairs had still existed as bits of debris, but Cecil’s was the only one they had replaced. The impression they were aiming for was simple. All the power rested in him. His job right now was to just sit there and try to look less than pleased.

  Not too difficult given the uncomfortable chair.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway beyond the throne room’s entryway. Lady Aldora frowned and swept her hands at the workers. “This will have to do, we’re done for now. Places.” She pointed at Cecil. “Slouch a little more.”

  “But the chair hurts when I slouch.”

  She gave him a level look. “Do you want to survive this thing?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Slouching.”

  She nodded. “Good. Discomfort is a small price. These dignitaries are coming to feel you out. You need to seem completely disinterested. Don’t give them anything to work with or to report back that they can use to plot against you. You’re a power mad dictator and don’t have the time or patience for this intrusion, got it?”

  “That seems counter productive. Shouldn’t we make nice? I feel like we’re giving off the wrong impression here.”

  She laughed softly and leaned closer, gently patting him on the cheek. “They won’t believe anything they don’t already assume. Don’t worry, you’ll understand in time. Your political tutoring will have to wait, though. Trust in myself and Egerton. We’ll see you through this.”

  She could have said anything in the world, he barely heard her. Her touch was like lightning building in the air, setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end. “Of course.”

  The footsteps echoed ever closer as Lady Aldora moved a few steps away and in front. She had cast herself as ambassador. Not a bad choice really. Sending Murray off to greet them had more to do with Lady Aldora and Egerton not wanting him around for their planning stage. Not that he didn’t have a penchant for talking to people.

  “Doors.” Cecil muttered at Egerton. “Doors are a priority after this.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Lady Aldora glance back and him. She pointed at the crown, then at her head.

  Time to get into costume, then. He carefully set the crown down on his head. It still pinched in an irritating way. No sooner was it resting on his head than Murray came into view, rounding a corner in the hallway. Cecil’s hands fell to his side with force enough to shift a few of the bones. It hurt his much softer flesh, but he bit his tongue to maintain his glower as he slouched a little more. Again.

  The man following Murray was an older looking gentleman. Not much left on top of his head, but he was making up for that was a massive and carefully tended gray mustache that fell down on either side of his mouth well below his chin. He wore a padded coat in the shade of blue Cecil was expecting, as were two far younger men following behind him. Apparently they didn’t have the experience or rank necessary to bear such impressive mustaches.

  All three were lead into the throne room by Murray, who stopped in the middle of the chamber, right on his mark, and gave a flourishing bow as he removed his hat and waved it about. “Most magnificent Dark Lord, other lords, my lady, these… people have requested an audience.” He cast a questioning glance at them before returning his attention to Cecil and the others. “If you wish, I can throw them off the tower? Yes?”

  Despite the outlandish and unscripted suggestion, Lady Aldora’s face didn’t shift in the least as she dismissed the idea with a wave. She must have expected some improvisation. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. We shall see to this.”

  Murray bowed again and backed away from the group, ending up beside the door as he plopped his hat back on his skull. He tugged the silly brim down a bit as he watched the soldiers with narrowed eyes. His instructions where to delay them for about ten minutes, then lead them in, look tough, and keep his mouth shut.

  Lady Aldora gave Murray a dirty look for a split second. Cecil almost missed it, and it took him a few moments to figure out why she did it at all. His behavior was pretty good, for him anyway. Cecil would rate his performance rather highly, aside from the keeping his mouth shut part.

  Oh. Introductions.

  She raised her chin slightly. “I suppose introductions are in order.” She turned, a hand held high. “This is the Dark Lord. He commands all that you have seen here today. His power is beyond measure and beyond question.” She turned her head a little. “Lord Egerton once held the same position, and due to the nature of this dark magic his experience and council lives on. All that oppose the Dark Lord oppose all of the Dark Lords. Generations of wisdom and power.” She turned to present the scholar. “Master Kenley is a chronicler. Be sure that anything said here will be recorded for posterity. So choose your words carefully.”

  Mustache and his people exchanged a few quick glances.

  “And I,” she waved a hand in front of herself, “am Lady Aldora, daughter of Lord Yale Thorn.”

  That… was an odd thing to admit. She hadn’t given out his name, after all. Then again his name wasn’t impressive or well known. Cecil tried to stick to his part. Quiet. Disinterested. Angry. He looked out at the soldiers from under lowered eyebrows.

  Mustache took a moment to mull over what she had said before he inclined his head. “General Gomer.” He waved at himself. “And my ranking subordinates.” He stood a little taller. “I have a report that says you were abducted, my lady. You seem no worse for it.”

  She laughed softly. “Abducted? Hardly. I am here willingly. Here my voice is heard, my words given weight.” There was a bit of heat behind her voice that seemed… almost genuine. “But my ego and my father’s aside, I doubt you came here looking for me. No. You have bigger problems.”

  Gomer inclined his head. “You speak the truth, lady.” He looked straight at Cecil, who bit his tongue again. It was the only trick they had found time to teach him. “Mr… Dark Lord, I suppose. I’m here on behalf of King Bl-”

  “We know who sent you.” Lady Aldora rolled her eyes. “The day is young, and you’re already disrupting it. There is little time for pleasantries, General.”

  Gomer narrowed his eyes at her for a moment. “A strange tower appeared in the middle of a long settled province overnight. We’d like to know why.”

  Murray tapped a finger against his chin. “Technically, it was already here.”

  Both Lady Aldora and Gomer glared at him.

  He shrugged. “What? It was.”

  Egerton cleared his nonexistent throat. “Truthfully, he’s correct.” He stood taller, stretching to his full height. “While you mortals may forget our reigns, that does not mean we didn’t, nor has it ever prevented us from returning. And we grow stronger each time, as well. The dead
will always outnumber the living.”

  Gomer’s stance shifted as he turned to face Egerton. “That sounds rather like a threat.”

  Lady Aldora smiled. “It need not be. And yet Lord Egerton speaks the truth. Their history is storied. I have only begun to study it myself. You came here for answers? That’s fair. They are simple enough. The past has returned, forgotten power reigns anew. You can either profit by this or be destroyed. It’s entirely up to you. Well, you and your king.”

  Cecil stayed still, but he was finding it difficult to breathe.

  This wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t right at all. What in the world was she thinking?

  Gomer rubbed at his mustache. “I had heard you were a promising young diplomat, girl. Yet I see brash, bold words with little to back them up. You have a few skeletons, so what? Bones are easy enough to smash. If I were you, I wouldn’t go picking a fight.”

  At least someone here had a brain. Murry and Egerton had an excuse having nothing but red lights in their skulls, but what the hell was Aldora thinking?

  Egerton scoffed. “We are legion.” He snapped his fingers, skeletons appearing at all the doorways, pressing into the room.

  This was bad.

  Everything was bad.

  All of it was wrong.

  “Wait.” Cecil held up a hand as he concentrated on the order.

  All eyes in the room turned to him. Lady Aldora’s were the last pair, confusion and irritation fighting for control of her features.

  He tried to keep his voice level and not move around as he spoke. “Our arrival was certainly unexpected. If the general can see fit to ignore the unintended intrusion into his territory, I see no reason we can’t be… good neighbors.”

  Egerton was hard to read as he turned from Cecil back to looking at Gomer. Not having a face will do that.

  Lady Aldora’s face had resumed a mask of indifference.

  Gomer had a solid poker face, too. “Well, a voice of reason on a throne. Will wonders never cease?” He addressed Cecil directly. “I didn’t come here looking for a fight. But I did come prepared for one. What are your intentions?”

  “My intentions?” Cecil didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t trust himself to not run screaming from the room.