A sudden presence was felt in the chamber. A flash of yellow showed in the distant darkness before the mage, and a growling voice spoke what was to be.
“Dril’ead Vulzdagg, and the branch of which he rules, shall fall. So speaks my queen – the Shadow Queen.”
6
Meet the Demon of Just Fulfillment!
Despite Gefiny’s insistence that Dril’ead have several guards clean his chambers for him, the lord of Vulzdagg insisted that he do it himself, saying to her that it was time he cleaned the messes he made. It took him several minutes to set things back into order, and throughout that time he was able to ponder that which he needed to do for the support of his people from that day forward.
Dril’ead felt a strong desire to meet with the Swildagg nobles as Nel’ead had done with them, and seek their forgiveness and understanding. Swildagg suspected them as the murderers of Hestage Swildagg, and so Dril wanted to make it clear that he and his people were innocent of such a crime.
“I may bare the blood of Zurdagg on my hands,” Dril told Gefiny later that day, “but I am not guilty of any other, and hope to keep my hands clean hereafter.”
“So you will go into their domain?” Gefiny asked him, a look of dread in her eyes. “Dril’ead, I do not trust them, and neither should you. Please do not do this. Your people know you are clean, isn’t that enough?”
“No, it is not enough,” Dril replied with a shake of his head. “As long as Swildagg sees their fathers blood on my blade, our people will not be safe. You must understand that.”
Gefiny lowered her head. “I understand,” she said sorrowfully. “But you will come back, wont you?”
Dril smiled for her assurance. “Just this once,” he said as he embraced her where they stood in the throne room, holding her tight for fear that his fears would come true, and he would never see her again. “Look after them for me, especially mother; she will be sorry to hear of my going.”
“I will,” said Gefiny.
“It is necessary that I go,” Dril said, fighting an inner turmoil that held him in place.
“Go,” Gefiny said, pushing him toward the doors. “I love you, dear brother.”
Dril turned round, hands clenching at his side, as he made for the doors. It was all going by so fast, too fast for his liking. It seemed like only yesterday that the two of them had ran together to greet their grandfather, Lord Vishtax Vulzdagg, when returning from battling the monstrous trolls. Now he was leaving her behind, the one person who had been at his side throughout his trials.
“I love you too,” Dril mumbled as be passed out the doors and into the streets of his city. He turned round on sudden impulse, looking back toward the throne room for Gefiny, but the doors banged shut before he could see if she still waited.
*****
“My lord,” a guard said, approaching Dril’ead as he stood before the doors of the citadel. “A student of yours, Nelastro, requests your presence. He says that he is ready.”
Dril hesitated painfully. Here was an excuse to stay, Nelastro was ready for the lessons he had promised. But Dril had to remind himself of the urgency of his task, and that Gefiny would possibly be disappointed if he stayed. He could not bear to face the eyes that Gefiny might fix upon him.
Dril turned to the guard. “Tell Nelastro that Dril’ead is not yet ready.”
The guard bowed in acknowledgement and then turned away. Dril watched him go, feeling again the desire to go to Swildagg and set things right. “It is time that I clean the messes I make.” He turned and departed toward the basilisk stables.
The basilisk was the pride of Vulzdagg. They were creatures of fierce abilities in combat, and trusted companions to those who gained the honor to mount such creatures. A basilisk answered only to its single rider, and anyone else who attempted to mount a basilisk that was not his would find themself in a bitter state. Dril’s own basilisk awaited its rider, standing erect in its resting place as it sensed its master’s approach.
Dril’ead stretched out his hand toward the creature’s lizard snout, allowing it to sniff his skin for confirmation that he was its correct rider. The six legged lizard closed its eyes, a sign that it accepted Dril’ead for who he was, and that he could mount safely.
Dril lifted from a rack a saddle for the creature, fitted it to its back and strapped it down with loose cords. He swung his leg up and over to sit comfortably on its back. Pressing his heel against its side, the basilisk reacted by moving forward and out of the stable into the street.
He leaned to the left and the beast followed his weight shift, turning toward the left and continuing down the lane in the direction of the city gates. Dril nodded to several passerby’s before reaching the frame of the large double doors of the iron gates. They had stood as the defense of the Vulzdagg compound for many decades, and had thus far never fallen shattered to the ground.
“They will stand evermore,” Dril told himself as they swung outward before him.
The basilisk moved forward between the opening gates, looking cautiously from side to side. Dril’ead pressed his heels into its sides, urging it to a faster pace as they moved into the mushroom grove. Each mushroom was equipped with a natural energy that rigged it to blow at the slightest touch, or scream in warning for any and all who could here its wailing cry. It was a great defense for the Vulzdagg city.
The basilisk had been accustomed to be cautious whenever traveling this way in and out of the city, and so it kept at a safe distance from each mushroom, winding its way this way and that as it carried its rider toward the gapping crevice at the far end.
The crack was the passageway down into the lower level of the shadow realm, where the branch of Zurdagg had once stood beside Grundagg. Now only Grundagg remained in the abyss of the shadow realm – nearest to the Urden’Dagg’s greater realm. Dril’ead looked over the cracks edge and into the shadows below, his infrared vision penetrating nothing but stone and slimy vines beneath.
When his scan was through, he urged his basilisk forward once again, and it leapt across the distance to land on the far side. They passed the forest of stalagmites, the basilisk always on the watch for any creature hungrily awaiting their approach from behind any of these stone pillars. But no creature awaited them, and so they passed onward to the base of the mountainous cliffs that the stalagmites surrounded.
Here they stopped and Dril’ead looked upward, knowing that high above his head somewhere was hidden the great tower of Swildagg. He shook his head at the distance and height he would have to traverse, fearing greatly that of heights and especially falling from them.
The basilisk dug its claws into the stony surface of the cliff and pulled upwards to repeat the spiderlike movement with all six of its clawed legs. Dril leaned forward in his saddle, wrapping his arms round the neck for his mount for support from falling from his now vertical position. His stomach churned uncomfortably as he heard the claws scraping into the stone, and the muscles of the beast flexing as it pulled upwards.
A great distance was already made between the basilisk’s tail and the earth below, covered about by the sharp points of a hundred stalagmites. The distance and the spikes below was no comfort for The Follower that clung for his life to the back of his trusted mount.
Once or twice the claw of the basilisk slipped and the beast flinched as it quickly recovered its footing with another of its six legs, Dril’ead wincing in fright and clinging harder to its back, praying that his strength and the strength of his basilisk friend would last until the top. His prayer must have been answered, for they soon made level ground that they were both greatly relieved to feel.
Dril’ead sat up in his saddle, patting his mount on the neck in thanks for its hard work, and the two of them moved forward toward the base of yet another cliff – this one only fifteen or so feet high, but still unnerving for Dril to see after their first endeavor.
The basilisk pretty much leapt the entire length of this cliff, digging its talons into the crown of the r
ise and pulling itself onto the flat ground.
“One thing I will be sure to tell these people on this visit is that a stairway is much less exhausting than climbing,” Dril said wryly, shaking his head.
The tower of Swildagg stood erect before him; rising nearly enough to vanish into the darkness of the caverns ceiling. It was much too high for Dril’s comfort. He would be sure to stay as far from going to the towers peak as possible.
Guards already began to approach Dril’ead from the citadel doors as he came near, baring long spears in both hands and lowering the points toward him.
“Stop where you are!” commanded one of them, perhaps their chief instructor. “What branch of the Urden’Dagg tree do you come from?”
“I am lord Dril’ead Vulzdagg,” Dril replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have come to meet with the nobles of the Swildagg branch.”
“My lady Eldrean has told us of your arrival,” the chief guard replied. “She and her noble children are waiting for you.”
Dril’ead frowned. Perhaps Gefiny had told them of his arrival, or lady Eldrean was spying on him while he came. Some power may be about this land that told the nobles of another’s arrival. Dril felt a power about this branch, but it was no welcome feeling in his heart. Still, he had to do what he came to do. His people’s lives were at stake.
The guards stepped aside to give way for Dril’ead to pass, and the chief led him toward the gates of the citadel tower. Dril found himself clutching at the hilts of his scimitars, feeling their cold metal to give him comfort, but the guards who followed on either side eyed them suspiciously.
“Dismount before entering,” the chief guard commanded when they reached the doors.
Dril did as was asked, swinging his leg up and over to step down from his mount. The basilisk narrowed its eyes, snarling at the guards standing round it.
“Touch him,” Dril began, warningly, “and he will tear you limb from limb.”
One of the guards cautiously backed away from the basilisk, eyeing his companions apprehensively. The rest followed his movement, putting a comfortable distance between them and the beast.
Dril smiled as he turned with the chief guard to enter the citadel. The doors opened inward and they both walked within, Dril following just behind the guard to be sure no tricks were played against him. When the doors closed shut a cold shiver ran down his spine, warning him of the apposing danger of being shut inside among a people he did not trust in the least.
Before him were the nobles. Sitting in the stalagmite thrones were the lady Eldrean and the lord Nel’ead. Elemni and Jastrum stood at their mother’s side, and Tyla and Alastra stood beside their brother. Each of them looked at Dril’ead with narrowed eyes.
Dril bowed low to them in respect, sweeping back his purple spider silk cloak.
“I present to you, Lord Dril’ead Vulzdagg of the Vulzdagg branch,” the chief guard said, indicating Dril as he rose from his bow.
Nel’ead and Eldrean both rose and returned the bow. “Welcome lord Dril’ead to the Swildagg branch,” Eldrean said as she rose and seated herself back into her throne. “I hope that you will forgive my son for any disrespect he might have caused you during his visit.”
Dril looked at Nel’ead as he straightened back in his throne, eyes still narrow and filled with anger as well as suspicion. “I acknowledge his forgiveness,” Dril said, subconsciously returning the look of distrust toward Nel’ead.
“With that taken care of, have you come with any important matters to take care of while here?” Eldrean asked.
“As a matter of fact there is,” Dril replied, turning his eyes back toward her. “I come on behalf of the Vulzdagg branch to plead my case concerning the issue of lord Hestage’s death.” He paused, viewing each of their reactions to the name. All except for Nel’ead and Alastra glanced briefly to one side or shifted their posture, leaving Dril’ead more suspicious of the two of them.
“You think that we, the branch of Vulzdagg, are guilty of his death; do you not?” said Dril, and he waited for a response that did not come. “Nel’ead’s visit to my branch has confirmed that suspicion, and so I have come to say that the branch of Vulzdagg is spotless of his blood.”
“You see,” Jastrum said, turning to face Nel’ead, “they are spotless of our father’s blood.”
“How do we know you are not lying?” Tyla blurted, fear in her eyes as she looked at Dril’ead. But Dril noticed that the fear was not 0f him.
“You must trust me,” Dril said, looking straight into Tyla’s eyes as he searched for some clue for the seeming fear.
“Ha!” Nel’ead laughed, “How can we trust you when all the facts of this crime points directly at you?”
“What facts?” Dril demanded. “What proof do you have that it was us?”
Nel’ead opened his mouth to reply, but Alastra cut him off as she stepped forward from his side. “We have only this!” she cried, stretching forth her hand to reveal a knife stained with dark blood that glistened in the candles’ light. “This blade belonged to your father, did it not?”
It didn’t take Dril long to recognize the basilisk head shaped at the butt-end of the daggers hilt. “It did,” he said, straightening in defiance.
Nel’ead and all the others looked at the weapon in Alastra’s hand with shock, each of them taken aback by the sudden proclamation of their sister – all except for Tyla who stood motionless beside her. Dril wondered why they all looked so shocked, but he didn’t bother pressing the matter, knowing that his branches innocence was at stake.
“You see,” Alastra said, turning to face Jastrum, “they are guilty. This blade was found buried in the chest of our soldier at the base of these mountains.”
Jastrum turned to Dril furiously; his eyes wide with anger. “You traitor!” he cried, and at his side Elemni half drew the blade he had buckled at his waist.
Dril wasn’t paying any attention to Jastrum or Alastra, or even the fearful eyes of Tyla; but instead he watched Nel’ead and the glare that he fixed on Alastra as she held up the bloodied knife, wondering what the cause of fear in Tyla was for, and the anger in Nel’ead when Alastra held forth this weapon.
Nel’ead slowly rose to his feet, taking his eyes of Alastra to look directly into Dril’ead’s face. “Dril’ead, lord of Vulzdagg, please leave us alone hereafter.” There was a pleading tone to his voice, and in his eyes there was a sickness of suffering anger.
Dril bowed. “The actions of my father are the actions of my father,” he said and then rose. “I will not hurt your branch in any way.” He turned round and strode quickly for the door, wanting nothing but to be gone from there.
When Dril’ead was gone from the throne room, Nel’ead turned upon Alastra in great furry. “What games are you playing with me, Alastra? What is this knife that you bare stained with the blood of our people?”
“These are no games, dear brother,” Alastra said to him in a measured tone. “This is a matter of justice, and the justice is ours to pay against Vulzdagg for their crimes. Vaknorbond killed our people with this weapon.”
“Maybe so,” Nel’ead replied. “However, do not say that the justice is ours! It is that demon’s justice and the demon alone! It is not even yours to give!”
“It is not even the demons,” Tyla put in suddenly, and all turned their confused expressions from Nel’ead and Alastra to Tyla. “It belongs to the Shadow Queen.”
They all exchanged curious glances. “You mean to say the Urden’Dagg,” Eldrean said.
“I mean the Shadow Queen,” Tyla replied, her tone unsteady.
Jastrum waved his hand to disregard it all. “Vulzdagg is guilty!” he cried. “Zurdagg is gone, our father is gone, and Vulzdagg is guilty! Nothing else matters!” He stormed out of the chamber, casting the anteroom doors aside as he passed through with Elemni close on his heels to comfort him.
Eldrean rose slowly from her seat, eyeing Alastra through narrowly. “What are you doing?”
“On
ly what is just worthy,” Alastra replied with confidence.
“Will it appear just worthy to the eyes of the Urden’Dagg?” Eldrean asked her.
“Of course,” Alastra said, smiling.
“Very well,” Eldrean said, moving slowly away but keeping her eyes on her daughter before she departed after her two sons.
“Gorroth has left,” Tyla said as she felt a cold shiver course through her veins. “The job is soon to be done.”
“Don’t you see, Nel’ead,” Alastra said to her brother. “Everything is working much more smoothly than you had planned.”
“Did I plan this?” Nel’ead asked as he moved away from the two, “Or did you?”
Alastra only smiled in reply, the gleam ever bright in her eye.
*****
Dril’ead spun his mount around and steered straight for the precipices’ edge, too distracted by his confirmed suspicions to fear the steep drop. He was too caught up in his own thoughts and issues, fighting the pain and the anguish of exposure before another branch, that he hardly noticed the uneasiness of his basilisk.
The creature kept turning its head too and fro, searching for something that apparently was not there – but it refused to believe common sense over instinct. Dril’ead patted it on the neck reassuringly, assuming that it felt only his stress. He looked about to distract himself and ease the feelings of his mount, but saw nothing.
The approaching menace that the basilisk was sensing came directly from behind as they neared the ledge of their first drop downward. The impact that the monster dealt sent them stumbling over the edge, loosening Dril’ead from his place on the saddle to fall and land hard on the solid stone at the bottom.
There was a sound like the rushing of a wind over his head as the tail of his basilisk swooped threw the air and deflect the jagged maw of the monster as it dived upon him. The basilisk saved its riders life, smacking the strange creature to one side, and stood erect, standing protectively over Dril as it struggled to recover from the impact of both the monster and the earth, and faced off with a wolfish looking monster of the lesser world.
Passage to Glory: Part Two of the Redemption Cycle Page 6
