The Dark Lord Cecil

by Wade Adrian

  Cecil stepped around the bug fight and leaned on the railing once more. The countless skulls below turned up to look at him.

  He didn’t see them… okay he was trying not to. They were creepy. And he was thinking. Planning. His chance of getting away might have dwindled, but there might be a solution to that. Making a big show, getting everyone’s attention… and it might even help the age old problem between these two groups in the process.

  His force was big, lumbering, and unimpressed with the other forces. Kind of like a big dumb beetle. He just needed the right push to get all of the ants on the same side.

  He set his eyes on Redding’s camp. The man no doubt already had his own plans for attacking the tower whenever the mood struck him. First light, noon, afternoon tea if he was some sort of heathen. He wasn’t the type to leave things to chance. But if Cecil was going to make this work, it meant trusting in Gomer to be a bigger man than Redding. He’d… sounded like a decent man for the two minutes or so Cecil was in the same room with him.

  A lot to wager.

  Eh, oh well. If all else failed, he could just swarm over both of them, end all life on the planet, bring everyone back as skeletons and… uh…

  Well, plan B still had some rough edges. Better to stick with plan A.

  “I want everyone ready at first light. We’re not going to wait for them to make the first move.”

  Egerton’s red eyes glanced at Cecil, then out at the field. “As you wish, my lord. They’re ready now, if you like.”

  Cecil shook his head. “They won’t see it coming now. No good if they’re unaware.”

  “Oh I agree, entirely.”

  Egerton was going to be let down in the end, that was a given, but as long as everyone made it out alive and well he’d call it a win. “I want everything you’ve got on their numbers, layouts, and the, uh, grounds?”

  “Terrain, sir.”

  “Yeah, that.” Cecil nodded as he turned to head back inside. “Get it to me in the dining room. Already has a table.”

  Cecil stood at the largest table an hour later, maps and documents laid out before him. Candles lined the top everywhere there wasn’t paper, adding to the light of the lanterns.

  He still hadn’t sent for everyone else. No reason to bug them yet. He paced around the table, checking the map then a pile of notes.

  Egerton stood by the door. Cecil would swear he looked annoyed. Must have been the way he was standing. Or the way he was grinding his teeth. “I might be able to help, if you told me what you were looking for, sir.”

  Cecil shrugged. “Mostly just trying to get it all sorted in my head. Redding’s camp is higher, by and large since most of our forces are in a big hole they dug.”

  “Excavation, sir.”

  “Okay, but still lower. Means they have the edge if they have a lot of warning. Throw rocks down or something. We can’t have them taking an early edge. We need their force to commit, not break and run early.”

  “Hmm.” Egerton tapped a bony finger against his chin. “Most of his force is infantry. Remove the horses and he won’t have the speed to withdraw.”

  Cecil had thought of that, but he didn’t like the idea of them fighting to the last man, either. Not that he would express that opinion to Egerton. “I think their horses getting loose would get their attention a little too early, have them up and running around. More eyes. Makes out job harder.”

  “Ah. Hmm. Perhaps. I had not considered that.”

  Unwavering loyalty was handy sometimes. “I’m wondering if we can’t sneak a bit closer instead. Have someone in position to release the horses, sure, but on both sides. Gomer’s too. But we need skeletons ready to engage Redding at the same time. Maybe a little before letting the horses go.”

  “You want them to have false hope as they run for their mounts? Ha! Delightful!”

  Well, no. He wanted them in the fight before they had reason to try for them. “Something like that. All the horses released at once. I assume skeletons yelling and waving their arms will get the horses running, but if not, it only took a hit on hind quarters to get ‘ol Winston moving.” He blinked a few times. Winston hadn’t crossed his mind in days. Silly old horse might still be running around out there.

  He hoped the old horse hadn’t fallen into any of the new holes they’d been digging. He’d never forgive himself if the coward hadn’t made it home.

  Neither would Calder.

  He shook his head. He’d have time to figure out just how much trouble he was going to be in with his father later. Creating a sovereign nation of the undead was bound to be something he’d been warned against as a child.

  “I also want to have some skeletons waiting here.” Cecil jabbed the map behind Redding’s camp. “So when the horses are loosed, and our force advances up the hill, if they try and run they just hit more of us.”

  Egerton cackled. “Oh, excellent. It will spread our forces a might thin, but it’s worth it to strangle the life out of their morale. So much easier to crush them that way.”

  Cecil squinted at the skeleton. He really wasn’t going to be happy later. “It’s more about ensuring the fight takes place, but yeah, I guess.”

  “I apologize, my lord.”

  He’d been bloodthirsty forever, that wouldn’t have changed. “For what?”

  “For assuming you would be a poor commander. Your plan, while simplistic, accomplishes a great deal. You’ve struck their men, their morale, and blocked their means of egress. You’re correct, they will stand and fight, for what else can a cornered animal do?”

  That… sounded a bit more harsh than Cecil had hoped. Well, it would probably help that he wasn’t planning to give any orders for his skeletons to kill anybody, quite the opposite, but… he’d keep that to himself for now.

  Egerton didn’t get to be happy a lot. He’d let him have this for now.

  “How fast can our forces be in position? I want them there at first light, but I don’t want them there a moment sooner, or they risk being spotted.”

  Egerton nodded. “Oh, quite right. It will take them… perhaps a half hour to move at a walk, but I suggest we give them an hour to move slowly. If they believe they are in danger of being seen they can always hide.”

  “That’s assuming a lot of rocks and bushes along the way.”

  Egerton chuckled. “All they have to do is fall down. A pile of bones is hard to see in the dark.”

  “Oh. Neat.”

  “They can even move that way, but it’s slow going.”

  A vision of a carpet of rolling bones and skulls on the ground played through Cecil’s mind… coming from everywhere, right towards him, inescapable, grasping arms… he shivered. The notion that something could be worse than walking skeletons had never occurred to him.

  “You’ve got your orders then.”

  Egerton snapped a salute. “It will be done, my lord!” He marched out of the dining room, practically springing from each step.

  So much enthusiasm. He was going to be so disappointed. Oh well. Noting for it.

  They were more or less ignoring Gomer’s forces, aside from their horses. He was betting everything on Gomer engaging on his own, which Redding and Egerton no doubt thought would be a dumb move. It didn’t sound like a great idea to Cecil either, but he wasn’t a military strategist and was fuzzy on the concept of honor.

  In his world honor meant not stealing your neighbor’s chickens, and maybe giving him some of your crop when his was poor. Such actions always came with the understanding that they would do the same for you, though. Maybe honor was acting in such a manner when you knew the one receiving the help wouldn’t do the same for you.

  Cecil had to admit, it sounded a little foolish… but he still hoped it was true. He needed it to be true.

  He let out a slow breath, the flames on the candles dancing. It was going to be a long morning.

  Thank goodness Murray had found some tea… and some booze. That might be useful later, if plan B was put into action.<
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  28

  Cecil tugged at his collar.

  Lady Aldora slapped his hand. “Stop that.”

  “It’s uncomfortable.”

  “It’s proper. Proper is often uncomfortable.” She readjusted the collar of his coat black sticking up out of a polished breastplate someone had found. It didn’t fit quite right, hence being worn over a coat. Cecil would never be accused of being a large or particularly strong looking man, so some of the outfit was meant to mislead. “Besides, it’s fashionable.”

  “I’ve never been big on fashion.”

  She feigned shock. “You don’t say.”

  Cecil scrunched up his face. “Okay, but the cape is just asking for trouble.” The long red cape was hooked to the breastplate at the shoulders. He was already too warm with the the coat, and that thing wasn’t helping. Besides, it was heavy.

  “How so?”

  “Because when I need to run for the hills, someone will just grab it.”

  “So don’t run.”

  Cecil’s eyebrow crept up a bit. “I think you have an overinflated sense of my chances in a fight. I mean, I’ve seen people swing swords… in mock duels at market weekends. Pretty sure I’m less than qualified.”

  She shook her head as she pulled the sword out of the scabbard hanging at his waist. “It’s not about fighting. You’ve got people for that. So do Gomer and Redding. You just need to look the part.” She held up the shining sword. The metal had a bit of a dark cast to it. It didn’t throw back much of the lantern light.

  It was not the Blade of Savril. That had been found… and it was a straight razor. Savril had apparently had more than a few loose screws towards the end of this life, and, after having several of his rivals assassinated by barbers, claimed they were the greatest of weapons. His men had disagreed and brought real weapons, but when the fight had made it to him Savril had tried to swing the blade. At skeletons. And he had died. Badly, by all accounts. Pummeled so bad he’d never even gotten back up as a skeleton. Only the former lords could reform their broken bones, the rest stayed broken.

  Egerton had tried to warn them, even if he hadn’t known about the straight razor itself, he had known Savril was a nut job.

  No, this sword was just one they’d found in the excavating. It was a few centuries out of style… and yet it hadn’t rusted.

  That was probably a bad thing, but really, how much more damned could he be at this point? He was already apparently part of the crown for eternity. He figured if some other horrific entity wanted to lay claim, at least it would be entertaining to watch them fight over him. Besides, it matched the crown nicely.

  Lady Aldora replaced the sword. “As a bit of a primer, pointy end away from you, try to hit with the sharp part.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “As an advanced lesson, it’s probably useless against armor. So don’t bother.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  She frowned. “Cecil… do be careful. I may have not always agreed with you, but I wouldn’t see you harmed.”

  He smiled and winked. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Oh come on, I’ve done okay so far.” He tried to stand a little taller. “I mean, I’m still alive and everything.”

  A small smile crept onto her face. “It’s more important that others are because of your actions, Lord Cecil. And impressive.”

  “Speaking of which…” Cecil turned and gave himself one last look in the mirror. Stupid black outfit, check. Black boots, black pants, black coat trimmed in red, black gloves even, and a dark red cape hanging from his silver breastplate. He wasn’t exactly a study in color. He looked like he was off to a fancy funeral. “Are you ready to go?”

  She frowned again, but nodded. “Yes. Though I don’t know why you’re so worried.”

  “There’s going to be a fight. I don’t want anyone in the tower. I’ve already told Bonnie to pack up, but I need to stop by the archives.”

  “I’m sure they’ll complain about interfering with their reading time, or something equally silly.”

  “Probably.” He shrugged. “Better than them getting found by Redding and put on trial as accomplices. I doubt he’ll care about their vaunted neutrality.”

  “Why do you think he’ll make it here?”

  “Because I’m not going to try and stop him.” The collar itched. He tried to ignore it. “I’ve got my forces placed, but stretched a little thin according to Egerton. Not enough to spare to protect this place. If there’s nobody to capture and nothing to take, it will be a waste of time to bother.”

  “And you plan to hang out a sign to that effect?”

  “Nah, I want it to be a rude surprise.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “Well I think you just don’t want anyone in harms way. And that you planned it that way from the start.”

  He shrugged as he started for the door. “That too.”

  “I could be helpful, you know. I’ve got more combat training than you.”

  He stopped and shook his head. “I invited you here. It’s my fault you’re caught up in this. If anything happened to you… I’d never forgive myself.” He looked back at her, standing there in her own black and maroon finery. “Besides, if we do somehow manage to make it through this in one piece, I’ll still need your advice. I’m a lousy lord, Dark or not.”

  “You’ve gotten much better.”

  “Pfft. No need to patronize me, I might be dead soon. Patronize me after we win.” He wandered out of the war room, formerly the dining room.

  Aldora couldn’t help the small smile that had appeared on her face. He really had come a long way, and she had caught herself growing a bit fond… but such a weakness was unbecoming, and she knew it. She pulled the small dagger of crimson metal from her sleeve. Savril had favored assassins, but he’d not been the fool he tried to convince the world he was.

  According to Kenley’s records, the blade was designed to capture the essence of those it killed. Savril had sought it out and brought it here to end the reign of Dark Lord Egerton by stealing him away from the crown. The dagger, at least, didn’t keep what it took, allowing the essence to dissipate over time, the victim freed to the great beyond. It would be a small mercy for Cecil that he wasn’t tied to the crown forever. And perhaps when she was old and tired of being the Dark Lord, she would use it on herself as well.

  Ruling was seemly and proper. Servitude was not.

  She spun the dagger in her hand.

  Her father had instilled early that she should always have a way out. All agreements should be as binding as possible for the other party, but not for her. She would test the dagger on Cecil, and whether it worked on not she would become the true power behind the crown. Whether that was as the true sixth lord, or if it failed and she was the fabled seventh.

  Well, if that came to pass… so be it. She would be up for ending the world, as long as she got everything she wanted out of it first. Really, why keep it around after she was gone anyway? Pointless.

  She hid the dagger away as she started out of the room. When the battle was done, all of these problems behind them, the world convinced of their strength… it would just be her strength.

  Bonnie smiled and waved as Aldora entered the kitchen. “Breakfast is ready, my lady. Afraid it’s a bit spartan, we’ve been packing up.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely, dear. Thank you.”

  Aldora hadn’t quite decided if she was going to keep the cronies Cecil had drug up. It might be kinder to let them flee into the night than convert them to skeletons, but those were really the best conditions for servants. Free will was unnecessary, and problematic. And yet, she was certain they would never understand that. Peasants just didn’t have it in them to rule.

  And yet… the skeleton dressed as Anastasia in her dream haunted her mind. She shook her head, her hair bouncing about as she banished the unwanted memory.

  Murry stood beside Egerton on the low
est balcony. Skeletons were arrayed ahead of them as far up the road as he could see.

  He’d left his hat inside, donning an old helmet instead. He still wore his sword hanging from his baldric, and he’d added a breastplate. It would have been small on him in life, but it fit rather well right up against his ribs now. A few of the bits still hung onto it. Spaulders at his shoulders and tassets below the breastplate itself. There was no way he was going to get the rest of a suit on without muscles to keep it there.

  Egerton was similarly dressed, though he wore a black coat trimmed in maroon under his breastplate, and it lacked the extra hanging bits. Probably because he couldn’t find any that had gold trim to match the gaudy thing. Fashion was more important for him.

  Really, it was kind of why Murray had put armor on, too. It wasn’t like someone was going to shoot or stab him in any serious way. He erred on the side of imposing, though, while Egerton preferred to look… rich? Something like that. Pompous was the word that came to mind but he was about ninety percent sure it wasn’t the word Egerton would use. Probably something stupid like, “elegant.”

  “Finally.” The older skeleton let out a sigh. “It seems like an age since I went to war.”

  “It probably has been an age, or two. You’re kind of ancient, when you stop and think about it.”

  “You mean that as an insult, but I can only hear it as a compliment. This world…” his red eyes scanned the camps, the sky, the tower, “it’s weak. All of it. Both of these armies walked up and wanted to talk. In my day, they would have spoken with voiles of arrows.”

  Murray scoffed. “Up hill, both ways, ten feet of snow…”

  Egerton’s eyes cut to him. “Was it not so for you? Dead so soon after taking the crown?”

  “No. That was them trying to prevent this.” He pointed at the massing skeletons. “I think back in your day people were just like they are now, except nobody liked you, so they walked up already shooting, charging, and yelling.”

  Egerton rolled that around in his head for a moment. “A fair point, I suppose. I did put a great deal of fear into them.”