The Legends of Vandor: Anthology Volume 1 (The Legends of Vandor Anthologies)

by DJ Morand

  * * *

  Vessen Marr glided through the air. In a half-twist he angled Erreysos in Bhaskar down towards the base of Treagoloniman’s skull. The elf warrior could hear the song of the blade begin to fade into the night as it drove into the dragon’s thick hide. Treagoloniman raised his head in a pained snarl. He whipped his snake-like neck back and forth. Vessen did the best he could to hold on, but he was jerked violently and flung away from the beast.

  The Bladesinger felt the magic leave him as his grip on the sword was lost. He flew sideways before his back slammed against stone. Fiery pain seared his body. He knew that more of his ribs broke as well as his spine. He collapsed in a heap on the ground and watched as Treagoloniman thrashed.

  The dragon dug and tore at the earth trying to shake the blade free. Blood sprayed everywhere. Hot putrid blood flowed from the dragon’s eye. From the top of his head the blade still glowed as it dug deeper into Treagoloniman’s flesh. Vessen continued to watch in astonishment even as his vision grew blurry. He let go of his pain. He let go of his hate. He let go of the need for vengeance. It was sated.

  The dragon collapsed and the ground shook. With his good eye he glared at Vessen Marr. That eye held hatred and fear and astonishment. Vessen smiled. The dragon heaved and took a heavy breath. Pain drove down into his skull and the dragon whimpered. The blood soaked ground welcomed him. Vessen Marr turned his eye away from the dragon. The ghostly forms of his wife and children smiled down on him. Vessen coughed and sputtered. He raised a hand to them and laid his head on the earth.

  Jessa Poe

  Witch

  My name is Jessa Poe; I am possessed.

  I don't like to talk about it, and because of that he is making me talk about it. He says I can't tell you who he is, but I am compelled to tell you how I met him. I don't want to, but when I don't listen it burns so bad. The fire rages in my soul and tears at the walls of my mind like acid. It always burns, but sometimes it is good. There is power in this union. I came into this power in the midst of desperation. I am, or at least I was, an assassin working for The Order. No one knows them as anything but those two words. The Order never claimed to be anything but a manifest of their name, Order.

  The belief that one is the manifest of Order in a world submerged in chaos might seem idiotic, but the sisters knew what they were doing. I was not one of their hounds if that is what you are thinking. Those wretched beings crossed between man and beast. I would never subject myself to such magical influence; or rather, I wouldn’t have. I was an excellent assassin sent to kill Dukes and Earls. My services were not unique, but my execution of them was something to be desired. I helped maintain the order the sisters wished to bring about. My goals never aligned with the sisters’ goals, but they paid well. It is not easy to work for an organization of sorceresses, especially when many of them can read your thoughts or predict your future. Like most Southerlanders I didn’t believe in magic.

  My religion was cold, hard, and round -- money. There are many in the Southerlands who would try to convince you that magic is false, and those who claim to practice it are merely charlatans. I would have agreed ... before. It hurts! Oh, the flames sear me. He has grown angry with me. I would speak his name, but he forbade it. I can feel him writhing beneath my skin, like a slithering snake made of pure molten fire. The scent of sulfur clings to my nostrils as I struggle to pen this. He demands it; yet he censors what I may speak.

  Fuck you demon, the thought came to my mind.

  Possession is an odd thing. The possessed has little control over anything, but their own thoughts. Even then, they are not private thoughts. The demon inside me knows my most secret desires. He can read my thoughts, my wants, and my needs. There is nothing I can do about it. He is more intimate than any lover I’ve ever taken to my bed. However, he is more infinitely evil and cruel than any I have ever known. Which, I suppose, begs the question of how I became possessed, or why I would allow this. That is what he makes me tell you. Know this, reader, whomever you are, these words are not for you. I don’t care one wit what you think of them; these are forced from me.

  * * *

  The Praetorium: Year 536 AO

  45 Frafer: Calal - 5th Hour of Feralda

  Palace Wilds

  Hot breaths gusted from my mouth. I panted as I ran. The air was thick and warm. It tasted of sorghum, sweet, sticky, and not entirely unpleasant. I gasped as I sprinted towards that scent. My own scent was rotten. Three days in the Emperor’s dungeon was not particularly flattering for anyone. The stench of fetid sweat, feces, and urine clung about me. I am sure if I had been able to examine the back of my tattered blouse I would have found dried blood and moldy straw stuck to it. I bled quite a bit after the whips. I thought I would die within the confines of those iron bars. I suppose it might have been a preferable fate to what came after.

  When the first calls of the roosters echoed within the walls, they came and dragged me to the gate. Barefoot and nearly shirtless from their brutal beatings, I was let go. I stared hard at them wondering what sick game they were about to play. I gathered my strength and prepared to fight back. I might have looked to be a haggard and beaten woman, but I was still a warrior. The first guard was portly and had a patch of beard crawling across his cheeks. It was sparse and separated by swaths of skin. I doubt he could have grown a full beard if he wanted. I had said as much and received a kick for it.

  I could feel the effect of that kick as I ran. Heaving breaths caught in my chest as the bruises and broken ribs howled in protest. I could hear the jeers and the calls from behind me. Raucous noise amid the snapping and howling of their wolves. Somehow, they’d managed to domesticate the beasts without taking away their instinctive ferocity. The monstrous dogs howled as they caught my scent. I do not think it was too difficult for them. My eyes watered as I ran. The fire in my lungs coupled with the pain in my back, nearly ended me.

  My vision grew blurry as I crashed into the trees. I stumbled and twisted my ankle. The sharp sting of pain raced up my calf to my knee, and I fought the urge to cry out. The hounds would be on me soon, and they would not show mercy. I prayed to Bhaskar, but no one answered my call. I told you I am not religious, but all men, or women, are when they face certain death. I hadn’t really expected a reply, it was a desperate hope I clung to in that moment of weakness. However, something heard my desperation. A man, cloaked all in black with eyes like amber. Those amber eyes glowed menacingly as he stared at my pathetic form.

  I whimpered and drew back, suddenly cold and afraid. He was a handsome sort of man with hard angular features that almost gave him an impish sort of appearance. When he smiled, though, it did not touch his eyes. I knew then there was something sinister about that smile. I felt like gagging. If there had been anything in my stomach just then I would have lost it.

  “Hello,” his voice was melodic and he said the word drawing out the middle of it with his tongue. “I am -- and you are in need of my help.””

  Shit, I can’t even write it. I told you he wouldn’t let me speak his name, but I hadn’t expected not to be able to write it.

  “I don’t. I don’t know,” I stammered.

  It was an unusual thing for me to stammer. I infiltrated all manner of cities, buildings, and temples with my words. To find myself at a loss for them even for a second was disconcerting. I decided that it was my nerves, frayed as they were. Running through the tangle of forest, twisting my ankle, and then this man appearing had enough to do with it without me adding some other supernatural weight.

  “You know,” he was still melodious. “You only have to admit you know. I can give you power, the means to vengeance.””

  “I don’t want vengeance,” I lied.

  He tilted his head back and laughed. It was a mirthless laugh full of angst and ire that reached back into the depths of my soul. His laugh was dark and ominous. It gave me chills. I wrapped my arms around my chest and dared to look up at him. He had resumed the towering posture and that same smil
e that forgot where his eyes were. He was clean shaven and had black hair pulled back into a pony tail. His amber eyes met mine. I felt naked beneath that stare. I felt myself open to him, as if he had a key to my mind, and he was rummaging through my thoughts.

  * * *

  The Praetorium: Year 536 AO

  46 Frafer: Sival - 2nd Hour of Feralda

  Palace Courtyard

  I remember the evening was cool. Summer had come early and the days were beginning to swelter. I had dressed for the heat and the cool air pricked on my skin like a thousand tiny needles. The anticipation of my task kept me warm enough that I did not shiver. The air smelled of periwinkle. The flowers only bloomed in early summer. I could already smell the rot. I tsk’ed when the scent of the fungus reached my nose.

  Fools, I thought. They've already over-watered the flowers.

  It is rare that one such as myself, being in the business of killing for gold, is able to find, much less appreciate, beauty. The periwinkle flower was one such beauty that had been befouled by negligence. It could have been overzealousness that ruined them, but I think it was poor management. The dress I wore was a faint hue of blue lending a stark contrast to my sun-touched skin.

  At the beginning of the year, a new emperor had been chosen. The emperor was a young man, full of a young man's zeal and hot blood. I had been tasked with eliminating him. Not an easy feat by any means, but as I've mentioned before, I am good at what I do. The Order hired me due to the emperor making trouble for them. In his zeal, the young leader sought to prove himself and ordered several attacks on the sisters. Again, I am not a part of the Order. I am a knife for hire, or a vial of poison, or a crossbow bolt; pick your adage. In his youthful arrogance, the emperor decided to throw a ball for his birthday. When the Order discovered this, they contracted me to infiltrate and assassinate the young man.

  I will be honest with you, I gain no pleasure from luring and killing men, but the money is good. I have always been a firm believer that you should utilize what skills you possess. The ball was this evening, which is why I happened upon the fungus ridden periwinkles. The steps leading to the emperor’s villa were made of worked stone. Enormous columns rose on either side. The columns were topped with the visage of Bhaskar, Kokila, and their many sons, the Oban. Sculpted stone-work of the highest quality, the statues almost felt alive. I looked down at my bosom and felt that my exposed cleavage might be an offense to some of these gods or demi-gods. Not that I truly cared what offended them.

  I approached the gate to the villa, having passed the columns of divinity. I suppose the emperors of the past had an understanding of laymen. Making a man feel as if he was your inferior made it easier to treat him as such when he approached you. I was not so shaken as that, but I feigned it well. The guards shared a grin and ogled my form as I approached. I made sure to saunter, allowing my hip to sway as I glided across the shaped stone walkway.

  "Invitation, my lady?" the guard on the right was a thin rail of a man. His clean-shaved face did not even have the hint of a shadow. I figured he was a boy of no more than sixteen years.

  Poor fool, I thought. He is no match.

  "I was asked by Lord Rordin himself," I gave a name that sounded important. In truth, I made it up on the spot. I let myself lean forward just enough. I saw the boy-guard shift uncomfortably and try very hard to keep his eyes on mine. The guard on my left had no such qualms. I could flirt with the boy, and the boy would feel privileged for it. I could not toy so with the other guard. Hard-eyed and broad, the guard on the left was a man of years. He had a look about him that suggested he might take what he wanted should I give so much as a hint of interest. So I ignored him and focused on the boy.

  “I ... I don’t know Lord Rordin, my lady. You need an invitation,” the boy-guard said.

  I leaned closer and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He flushed and I could feel the warmth of the blood rushing to his face. I took his head in my hand and subtly touched the lobe of his ear with my lips. At this point, the boy was mine. He would have done anything I asked. The older guard though, either he was jealous or just too jaded after his many years. He stepped to me and took me by the arm. I turned on him. With lightning precision, I whipped my arm from his grasp and struck him in the throat. The boy-guard saw what had happened and stared dumbfounded between the choking guard and me.

  “You saw what he tried,” I said to the boy. “He was going to force me.”

  I let tears well in my eyes, and I looked to the boy pleadingly. I did not want to fight my way to the emperor, and this boy was likely the only chance I had. I stepped back away from the older guard. He was still trying to catch his breath. A quick strike to the throat will stop any man in his tracks if you do it just right. I apparently had done it too well, because the man was wheezing so bad I thought he might keel over at any moment.

  I let that subtle fear grow into panic on my face. I wasn’t worried about this guard, but the boy didn’t know that. He looked at me, meeting my eyes, and he saw the fear and panic. I can manipulate a man into seeing what I want him to see if I try hard enough. I had a small bit of worry that I’d be found out, but I was working on that.

  The young guard made a calming gesture, lowering his hands. I could see the panic start to rise up in him. If I didn’t get him under control soon, he would call for assistance. I had to do something, and I didn’t want to deal with two bodies. The older guard’s face had began to turn blue and he wasn’t making wheezing sounds anymore.

  “Please,” I whined. “Lord Rordin will be so angry with me. You have to let me go and find him.””

  The boy-guard looked at me with pity in his eyes. Perfect, I thought. He swallowed hard, “I’ll take care of him. You go on in and find Lord Rordin.”

  I beamed. I leaned forward letting the boy get a full view of my cleavage, and I kissed him on the mouth. He stood there, stunned, as I swept past him and into the villa. I looked back once; the boy-guard was struggling to pull the other guard into the brush. I would like to think that my actions would not endanger that boy, but I sincerely doubt he would come out unscathed.

  * * *

  The Praetorium: Year 536 AO

  46 Frafer: Sival - 4th Hour of Feralda

  Palace Ballroom

  I did not hear from the guards and no one came crying that a guard had been slain. So, I danced. For two hours, give or take, I danced with several people. To each of them I told a different story. I was the Lady Durne. I was a guest of Duke Turmal. I was the illegitimate daughter of one of the Praetorians. I laughed and lied and worked my way to the emperor’s presence. It was not terribly difficult to mingle in the crowd. Those with an excess of gold often believe whatever is told to them as long as it is either incredulous or scandalous. Eventually, I grew tired of waiting for the emperor to arrive. It was then that he had entered with a great deal of fanfare.

  The arrogance of youthful men rarely surprises me. The emperor I expected to be arrogant, but when the fanfare began he glared at the trumpeters and motioned for them to cease. He seemed to glide through the crowd as he spoke with a few and shook hands with others. Something about this emperor, this man, was different. I wasn’t sure if he was the one the Order wanted slain. He was so different from the man described by the sisters. His appearance was exactly as they had described, but his manner was different. I shook myself internally. My profession was not one well suited to idealism.

  Pretending to be a pretentious socialite would not win me the emperor’s attention. I changed my strategy and took a place against the wall. I tried to look wide-eyed and fascinated. I was capable of exuding sexuality, but innocence was something else to feign entirely. I suppose I managed it. In time a guard approached me. It was not one of the villa guards from earlier, but one of the emperor’s personal guard.

  “My lady,” he bowed formally. “The Emperor wishes to make your acquaintance.”

  I opened my eyes wide and batted my lashes girlishly, “With me!? The Emperor!?”
<
br />   My feigned ignorance matched his lack of intuition, and he nodded dumbly. I could see the disdain in his eyes even as they rolled back into his head. He thought me some empty-headed girl overwhelmed by the extravagance of the ball. It was just as well for this is what I wished to convey. I tried to ignore his unspoken insult. I had brought it on myself. Ignorant of my true purpose, the guard led me to the emperor. The young man had a sort of rugged handsomeness to him. His jaw was strong and covered with black stubble. His eyes were a deep brown and intelligent. This was a man aware of his surroundings as I had suspected.

  “I noticed you in the corner, alone. I do not recognize your face,” his eyes wandered all over me. He was a man unburdened by the fanaticism the sisters believed influenced him. “My guard tells me many things about you, all contradictory to the other.”

  He smiled and it touched his eyes, lighting them in a peculiar and attractive way. That light danced in his eyes for a moment, mirth and curiosity burning in them. Momentarily, I was enthralled. He continued speaking a moment later, turning his head and saving me from his stare.

  “I think,” he said with a touch of arrogance. “I think that you are not any of those things.””

  My heart raced. If he knew who or what I was, this was all over. I struggled to maintain my composure as he scrutinized me. He smiled again, the smile touching his eyes like before. I felt lost in those eyes.

  What the fuck is wrong with you! I screamed at myself. You are a gods-damned professional, fucking act like it!

  My mental berating snapped me out of his spell. I chuckled lightly, letting that innocent you caught me laugh peal away from my lips. I brushed back my dark locks and lowered my eyes, forcing myself to look at anything but his eyes. I noticed his hands. They were gripped tightly on his chair. His knuckles were white. Either he had been holding back his own thoughts, or I had offended him with my laughter. I knew in that instant my disguise was broken. I had been seen for what I was.