by R A Oakes
“Long have I lived for this day! Pack your bags, boys, we’re going home!” King Tarlen shouted as everyone cheered.
Chapter 11
Dominion Castle. The same day.
Swarenth, the most hideous of all gargoyles, sat brooding in Dominion Castle’s great hall. Two saber-like tusks shot up from his lower jaw and curved inward cutting and scaring his cheekbones whenever he chewed his food. The warlord’s eyes were bloodshot, and his body was covered with long, coarse, black hair. His scrawny frame was anorexic by gargoyle standards, but his wings were large and almost twice the size of other gargoyles.
As a rule, these ape-like creatures were always overweight, possessing wings much too small to support their bulk and afford them lift. Long ago, they’d lost the ability to fly.
However, in this regard, Swarenth was different. With less than half the bodyweight of other gargoyles and twice the wing size, Swarenth could fly. His well-developed back and shoulder muscles, the only exception to his overall thin appearance, enabled him to make strong use of his wings. Frequently, he could be seen soaring high above Dominion Castle, his gray, skin-covered, featherless wings flapping in powerful strokes.
As gruesome as Swarenth was, he might have seemed less repulsive had he not been sitting in the cavernous great hall of one of the most artistic, architectural masterpieces the world had ever known. The hall’s vaulted ceilings were painted with frescos of glorious moments in Kardimont history. The awesome paintings were stunning in both size and the lifelike portrayal of events.
On the walls hung elaborate tapestries displaying in great detail the history and majesty of many of King Ulray Kardimont’s most loyal subjects and staunchest allies. Chief among them was a tapestry hanging on a huge wall directly behind the throne. It was of Ulray’s best friend, Lord Stallington. The Fighting Eagle.
The vast floor was made of polished marble and was inlaid with intricate designs as pieces of white, red, black and gray flowed across the floor like an artist’s canvas. Upon first seeing it, some were loath to even walk upon the floor, so regal and inspiring was the artistry of the master craftsmen who created the patterns.
Stained-glass windows abounded pouring radiant color all across the floor and serving as yet further testimony to the heights of artistic achievement of the Kardimont dynasty. Many of the windows depicted scenes of other castles in the kingdom such as The Rock, Skybrook Castle and Firecrest Castle. And not by coincidence, Skybrook Castle’s window was also on the wall behind the throne. A glorious, golden eagle with talons outstretched and hurtling down towards its prey dramatically spoke once more of the friendship between Lord Stallington and King Ulray Kardimont. The Fighting Eagle had been Ulray’s right arm for years. He was a man both respected and feared for his courage in battle and his skill with a sword. King Ulray did not have a window proclaiming his own greatness. None was necessary. All of Dominion Castle spoke of the glory of the Kardimont kings.
It was in this lofty environment that the gargoyle warlord sat brooding. To say that the very castle he lived in outclassed him would be an understatement. To have gargoyles living in Dominion Castle was like allowing pigs to run through a farmhouse.
“Even after 30 years of ruling this castle, no one refers to me as the king,” Swarenth said as he scowled at his nephew, Zenaruka. “No one really even sees this fortress as mine. It’s more like I’m viewed as a long-term tenant.”
“Give the command, your Excellency, and every living creature within 100 miles will call you King Swarenth by morning.”
“Ulray Kardimont never had to ask anyone to hail him as king.”
Zenaruka thought, That’s because he was the king. Horrified, the young gargoyle realized he’d almost spoken his thought out loud and had barely been able to catch himself. Zenaruka was justifiably terrified for he knew the harsh punishment inflicted on anyone who dared to open his mouth around Swarenth when it would have been wiser to keep it shut.
He pictured himself flat on his stomach, strapped facedown on a bench with his head hanging over one end. The young gargoyle imagined his mouth being pulled wide open, and he envisioned the wooden blocks that would be shoved hard between his teeth to keep it that way.
In his mind’s eye, Zenaruka saw his torturers building a small fire, one just big enough so the tips of the flames would flicker up into his open mouth, slowly baking his tongue. He knew he’d remain like that for hours as his head was roasted.
What was also frightening was that his fellow gargoyles would be sitting at tables around him hefting flagons of ale and shouting encouragement. Some would pat him on the back urging him to be strong. Zenaruka knew all about it. He’d done it himself.
As the young gargoyle, who was a lieutenant in Swarenth’s army, looked at his warlord, he knew that he’d come mighty close to destroying himself. Working closely with his uncle was a way of getting promoted quickly, but Zenaruka now realized it was also the fastest route to his own death if he wasn’t more careful.
Zenaruka knew the safest way to avoid trouble with his uncle was to focus Swarenth’s attention on someone other than himself. So he said, “General Takanar has failed you miserably, your Excellency. In all these years, he has never found Tarlen. You should make an example of him. Let the others see how you punish failure.”
“What am I going to do? Tell him that in a month I’ll have either his head or Tarlen’s on a spike outside the castle gates? After 30 years, I think the trail’s a little cold by now.”
“Uncle, as long as Tarlen’s alive, you’ll never be granted the status you richly deserve. This is your castle now. It no longer belongs to the Kardimont kings.”
“We don’t really know for certain if Tarlen’s still alive. He’s more ghost and legend at this point. No one could hide for three decades without being caught. Yet the more you try to kill a ghost, the more real he becomes in the minds of others. So I can’t shake myself of his memory, but I can’t kill it either.”
“The general has never fully explored the northwest territory, your Excellency.”
“That’s because no one with royal blood would ever live in that wasteland.”
“What about beyond it?”
“I’m not getting any closer to Baelfire, Zorya or that little witch who surfaced a year ago, Aerylln. I remember her grandmother, Lyssa, all too well.”
“They won’t stay on the western side of the kingdom forever.”
“Yes they will, as long as they don’t have someone who can unify the various castles in the west. There’s no banner for them to rally ‘round. Without Tarlen, they can’t do more than protect their own region.”
“But hiding under the protection of the Fighting Eagle would be ideal. Tarlen could have gone west of the badlands.”
“No, Lord Ridgewood has spies at Skybrook Castle. If Tarlen had surfaced, the old pirate would have been down here trying to sell us that information a long time ago.”
“Uncle Swarenth, we need our own spies at Skybrook Castle. Lord Ridgewood and his men are clumsy. They have an innate cunning, but any information they have has to be viewed as unreliable.”
“Yes, we need some first-class people at Skybrook Castle who are willing to sell out Lord Stallington, but how do I come by such people?”
“Didn’t Ambassador Valkira go to Firecrest Castle? And that’s not too far from Skybrook, is it? Maybe the ambassador has come up with someone. He should be back anytime now.”
“If anyone can come up with an angle, Valkira can,” Swarenth laughed. It was the first good humor he’d shown all day.
Suddenly, the gargoyle warlord stopped laughing, looked at his nephew and had an idea. Zenaruka was the youngest member of the family, and the smallest, but maybe it was time to push him out of the nest.
“I don’t want General Takanar wasting his time on a wild-goose chase. So, I want you to form a search party and explore both the badlands and the area west of it as far as Skybrook Castle.”
Completely taken by surpri
se, Zenaruka stared at his uncle. Swarenth had never put him in charge of anything before. However, the problem was that the young gargoyle didn’t believe what he’d been telling his uncle. All Zenaruka was trying to do was shift Swarenth’s attention away from himself.
The warlord’s nephew had no desire to leave the comfort of Dominion Castle to traipse around a wasteland or bump into an aging Fighting Eagle. The elderly ruler was ailing, but his reputation as a brilliant tactician was still intact, even if his skills as a warrior were diminished. According to Lord Ridgewood’s spies, Lord Stallington’s mind was as keen as ever.
Zenaruka thought, And the Fighting Eagle has never lost a battle. I’ve no interest in provoking someone who’s a living legend. The old man may be on his last legs, but he might have one last battle left in him.
Also, Zenaruka had no desire to go up against the head of Lord Stallington’s army. General Zarkahn was no one to trifle with, that much he knew. Of course, Lord Stallington’s son, Rathlor, was a joke. Everyone was aware that the Fighting Eagle’s son was a dolt, and that the real brains of the family had gone to his daughter, Genevieve. But she was a woman. And in the young gargoyle’s eyes, that disqualified her from any leadership role.
“Why entrust this important mission to me, your Excellency?” Zenaruka asked trying to wiggle out of the unpleasant task he’d just been given.
“It’s time you grew up. Plus, I can’t think of a task that’s more likely to fail than this one.”
Gloom settled in on the young gargoyle. Still, he decided to put the best face he could on the situation and said, “I’ll find him, uncle.”
Such optimism grated on Swarenth’s nerves. Glowering at his nephew, the warlord said, “And one more thing.”
“Yes, uncle?”
“Don’t come back until you find him.”
“Are you sending me into exile, your Excellency?”
“Why not? I’ve been living in exile in this castle for 30 years. That’s because your assessment of the situation is correct. Until Tarlen is either caught or confirmed dead, the memory of Ulray and the Kardimont kings will haunt this fortress, and I’ll never be accepted as the lord of Dominion Castle.”
“But everyone respects you, uncle.”
“No they don’t. They fear me, and that’s not the same as respect. Also, by letting Tarlen slip through my fingers years ago, he’s created something greater than fear among the humans.”
“What’s that?”
“Hope.”
“Hope for what?”
“The hope of retaking Dominion Castle.”
Zenaruka almost laughed. Every year, more and more fortifications had been built around the castle. “No one could retake this fortress.”
“Nothing human.”
“What do you mean?”
“Baelfire.”
“But uncle, that meddlesome sword has her hands full just trying to hang onto the land in the distant west. How can she hurt us here?”
“If Tarlen and Baelfire ever got together, we could have a problem. Just find Tarlen or prove he’s dead.”
“How long will I really be away, uncle?”
“Put together a permanent search party. You’ll be in charge and start by heading north.”
“Permanent sounds like a long time. How long is permanent?”
“Like I said, don’t come back until you either have Tarlen or can prove he’s dead. You can request fresh troops from time to time, but you’ll do that through your second-in- command. You, yourself, will not reenter Dominion Castle until your mission is completed, one way or the other. I now promote you to the rank of captain. And Zenaruka?”
“Yes, uncle?”
“I’m serious. Don’t return to Dominion Castle before you complete your mission on pain of death.”
As the young gargoyle walked away, General Takanar emerged from the shadows. He had entered through a secret passageway and had listened to everything.
“You’re being a bit rough on him, don’t you think?” the general said.
Showing no surprise at General Takanar’s appearance, Swarenth watched his young nephew leave the great hall.
“I’ve been protecting him too much. I was once the youngest of eight brothers and was as skinny as Zenaruka,” Swarenth said as the general listened patiently to a story he’d heard 100 times. “By the time I was Zenaruka’s age, I had assassinated all of them and was head of the clan.”
General Takanar patted his master on the shoulder. He understood how hard it was to raise boys into men.
“General?”
“Yes?”
“Find Tarlen or else.”
“Yes, lord,” General Takanar said bowing to his master, yet he wasn’t worried. The general knew Swarenth had a taste for blood, but he also knew a solution to the problem he’d just been presented with.
General Takanar thought, I’ll go on a killing spree and hang every gargoyle officer in the castle, if need be, to satisfy Swarenth’s lust for blood. If I create enough carnage over Tarlen having not been found, then my master will let me live. These moods he gets into always pass. I’ve seen them many times before.
The general was sure he could handle Swarenth, but what really concerned him was Carplorthian.
The general thought, Where is that conniving, old fox and what has he done with Tarlen?
For years, General Takanar had been privately searching for Tarlen and had always come up empty. But he believed that the last member of the Kardimont line was more than a ghost or a legend. In his gut, the general knew Tarlen was alive, and he suspected that the king’s ability to hide for all these years was primarily due to Carplorthian.
General Takanar thought, I’m not actually worried about finding Tarlen. In fact, at this point, I’m convinced it’s impossible. But sooner or later, he’s going to come looking for us, and that’s when we’ll find out who really owns Dominion Castle. Humans or gargoyles.
Chapter 12
Dominion Castle. The following day.
Years ago, King Ulray had built an enclosed courtyard with an adjacent indoor living area to house his big cats within the castle walls. The outdoor portion of the spacious compound included a grassy mound high enough for the tiger sitting on top to look over the courtyard wall and watch the comings and goings at the castle’s main entrance.
This area was reserved for the most powerful big cat, Chaktar, as it had been for his father and grandfather before him. The 700-pound tiger was five-years-old, and the huge feline’s body rippled with muscles, his eyes blazed with intelligence, his willpower was tightly focused and his coat was long and smooth.
The sense of majesty about him spoke volumes about his bloodline. Not only was Chaktar the largest big cat living at Dominion Castle, he was also a direct descendent of one of the original tigers who’d saved a young Prince Ulray Kardimont from certain death over 50 years ago. The crown prince and Eldwyn, his best friend, had been ambushed, and Ulray had taken three arrows in his chest.
“Sire, you’re dying!” Eldwyn had shouted, clearly aware that the arrows had pierced vital organs and done considerable damage.
Between gasps as he struggled for breath, but true to his unflappable nature, Ulray had remained calm and said, “You’re such an alarmist.”
“My prince, your wounds are beyond my medical knowledge.”
“You’re a wizard, think of something.”
As Eldwyn saw life draining from Prince Ulray’s body, the young mystic had jumped up screaming with all his might, “Ripta zenkur toolray mintar!”
Then, in desperation, he had charged into mystical regions declared off limits by the College of Wizards, inadvertently creating a highly unstable force field of enormous proportions. It hurled Eldwyn far off into distant regions of the universe where he found himself coming into touch with elements that were the very building blocks of life. The slightest error could have wreaked havoc with the very fabric of time and space, resulting in devastating consequences.
Prince Ulray had been fascinated by Eldwyn’s behavior and struggled to remain conscious to observe his friend. However, when Ulray had finally started blacking out, Eldwyn went even farther. The young wizard broke free of the physical world entirely and delved into the realm of the supernatural. On a deeply spiritual level, he’d emptied himself of self, became totally blank like an artist’s white canvas, and relinquished all control over his life to a higher power.
The 20-year-old Eldwyn had accidentally stumbled upon the knowledge that nothingness is the purest catalyst for change. A truly empty person is open to infinite possibilities, and such total detachment allows possibilities to be processed in an instant allowing the most beneficial one to fill the void. No human consciousness can connect the dots of random variables with the efficiency of being aware of nothing at all and just allowing the solution to present itself.
Eldwyn had contented himself with waiting for a resolution. It was a long time coming and yet took no time at all. Under certain conditions, forever can be collapsed into a moment.
But up until that instant, Ulray had felt death continuing to make inroads and sensed it was gaining ground on him. Like an ice pick chipping away at the surface of a frozen pond, sooner or later whatever’s on the surface is going to fall through.
However, even when the crown prince had taken what he felt might be his last breath, Ulray still couldn’t help being proud of his friend. He’d thought, Just when you think you’ve seen all Eldwyn has to give, he reinvents wizardry from the ground up. I wonder what he’s going to do next?
For better or worse, Prince Ulray Kardimont was about to find out.
Over two dozen big cats had been following Ulray and Eldwyn on their journey, already influenced by some sort of spell the young wizard had put them under. But this new incantation had seemed to set them free. Then, Eldwyn had informed them that what he was about to ask of them would involve considerable risk to both themselves and Prince Ulray. If the experimental incantation backfired, any tigers attempting to help the dying man would be killed.
