The torg’s head and the face of a Saricon warrior, blue tattoos streaked across her face as she peered down at him from the side, filled his blurred vision. It was the last memory he had before the heavy metal point of another javelin pierced his heart, killing him instantly.
In the dead of night, Karnack and five thousand of his men quietly surrounded the city, cutting off Cythera from any communication. The plan had worked perfectly. All Dy’ainian eyes were on Kahn Taruk’s army along the southern shores, unaware of the Saricon army moving stealthily from the north. Even if they were watching north, they would never have seen the Saricons as they maintained their distance, hiding in the tall grass and trees that surrounded the city.
Once they had destroyed the Schulgs on the eastern shores of the Bitlis Sea, they had built barges and transported a thousand men across. Among them were the five Shadow Riders. The advance army had set up a perimeter along the shore, killing anyone who came near. They had to make sure that no word of their approach would reach Cythera, nor even the cities of Tanwen and Kreb to the north. The Shadow Riders could run down even the fastest horse, killing any and all who ventured near. No one could escape them, and they had already proven their effectiveness by eliminating all scouts and witnesses to their arrival or movement. While those thousand guarded the Dy’ainian shore, the rest of the ten thousand made their way across. It was a slow process, but by the third day they had all reached the western shores.
Karnack had previously left five thousand men stationed along the main road from Tanwen to Cythera, preventing any chance that reinforcements would arrive from the Dy’ainian northern outpost. The other five thousand crept to the city, arriving at night. Once in position, they had sent one of their spies, a young scout from Argos who was a devout Helnian, into the city. Any Saricon walking the streets of Dy’ain would be spotted immediately, but a dark haired Argosian would blend in easily enough. Using their network of spies, he would pass the word on that Karnack’s army was in place.
Word had come back that the king and queen were dead. The ball was now rolling. Karnack looked to the two officers on his right. They crouched amid the gently swaying grasses that covered so much of Dy’ain. Two thousand Saricons were scattered throughout the grasslands, eager to bloody their blades. Three thousand more men formed a perimeter around the city. Anyone who approached, be it a scout, merchant, or farmer, would be killed on the spot. The city was now cut off from all communication. And the beauty of it was that the people and rulers of Cythera had no idea.
“We will sneak into the outlying homes surrounding the city and kill everyone. But make sure you send a group of men to block the city’s main gate. I don’t want anyone fleeing into the city for asylum. Everyone outside the city must die. Then we will wait.”
“What are we waiting for?” one of the officers asked. He was a young Saricon, barrel chested and shorter than most of his race. But like the rest, he looked fierce and imposing.
Karnack smiled. “For our invitation.”
***
Something didn’t seem right to Kulvar Rand which was why he was making his way to the dungeon. Word had found him quickly regarding the death of his king and queen and the imprisonment of the chef. He couldn’t believe they were dead and something about the situation felt wrong. Why would a chef poison the king and queen and then stay and help the staff clean the kitchen? Wouldn’t she have fled? He wanted to talk with her personally before he passed any judgment.
The palace was on high alert, grim faced Sentinels were blocking every exit, along with a large contingent guarding the main palace gate and a dozen more walking the wall that surrounded the royal home. There were four more guarding the entrance to the dungeons below the palace.
“I need to see the prisoner,” Kulvar Rand said, addressing the Sentinel who stood before him.
“Yes, sir,” the Captain of the guard replied, fishing out the key ring attached to his belt. “Follow me.” Everyone knew who Kulvar Rand was and Dygon Guards in general were given free reign. He led him through a long hallway containing a series of locked doors, each illuminated by a burning torch. Coming to a door at the end of the hallway he unlocked and opened it, stepping aside so Kulvar could enter.
“I want to talk with her alone please,” Kulvar Rand said.
The guard nodded, handing him a torch from the wall. “I will be just outside.”
Kulvar Rand grabbed the torch and entered the dark and dingy room. The guard shut the door behind him. The stench of decaying vegetables, sour sweat, and human excrement accosted his senses. Orange light from the torch cast shadows across the sparse and damp room. In the corner, sitting on a stone bed, was a heavy set old woman. She looked up when he entered.
“Who are you?” she croaked, her voice strained and tired, parched from lack of water.
“Kulvar Rand, leader of the Dygon Guard. Do you know of me?”
“Yes, I’ve heard the name.” Her lined and weathered face appeared haggard, but her eyes reflected defiance. “What do you want?”
“The truth,” he said, stepping closer.
“I’ve already given that.”
“Humor me.”
She shrugged. “There is nothing to say. I did not poison the royal family.” She looked resigned, almost sad. “I was asked to cook a meal for Lord Daricon and King Enden’s family. I was honored to do so. Halfway through the meal guards came to arrest me. They beat me and shoved me down here in this disgusting hole.”
“Who asked you to do this?”
“Lord Daricon of course. I was his chef at Lyone.”
“Who served the food?”
“Several servants.”
“So you prepared the meal, then gave the dishes to servants who delivered them?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know any of the servants?”
“I did not, but I would not know them anyway. I am not from here and am unfamiliar with any of the king’s servants.”
“I see.” Kulvar Rand paced the room, thinking.
“I had no reason to kill the royal family. What gain would I receive? I was a chef, nothing more. I liked their boy a lot, Prince Jarak. It saddens me that he is dead.”
Kulvar Rand stopped pacing. “He is alive. He did not make the dinner.”
Jayla’s eyes lit up in surprise, her hands coming to her mouth. “Really? That is good news. I am happy to hear that.”
Kulvar Rand was a good judge of character. This woman was genuinely surprised, and happy that the prince was alive. There was no doubt. It made no sense that she was the killer. She had no motive. Something was amiss. “Something doesn’t seem right,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone.
“Ask yourself this, Master Rand. Who has the most to gain from the deaths of the royal family?”
“What do you mean?”
“At the garrison I found a secret shrine to Heln hidden in the storage cellar. I showed it to Prince Jarak and no one else. Whoever created that shrine is more than likely involved in these deaths. I ask you again, where to the stands of evidence lead? Who has the most to gain?”
Kulvar Rand stopped in his tracks, as a thought occurred to him. “Stay strong. I will do my best to get you out of here.” Then he turned and walked to the door, knocking so the guard would open it.
Master Rand followed the guard down the hallway to the anteroom. Before leaving, he addressed the captain. “Make sure she is given food and water, and not hurt. Do you understand?”
“Of course, sir.”
Then he left without another word.
***
Tongra Taruk, sitting tall on his horse, gazed at the vast city of Cythera. His plan had worked perfectly thus far. Karnack’s troops had surrounded the city and cut off all access, which was a good thing too, as several scouts had been apprehended trying to get through. The Saricons had been forced to kill them, along with several groups of civilian traders. They could not risk any word reaching the city. As far as the occupants knew, his a
rmy was still stationed miles away along the coast.
No one yet realized that they had traveled all night under the light of the stars and had linked up with Karnack’s forces. Nearly seven thousand Saricons and a few thousand conscripted men from Argos and YaLara were spread out behind him. Their numbers, now combined with Karnacks, was around fourteen thousand. Slowly and stealthily they had inched their way forward, surrounding the outer city. While they had made sure that no Dy’ainian scouts had made it through their lines, they were able to get their own messengers back and forth with ease. Word had made it to Tongra Taruk that his spy inside had successfully killed the king and queen. But the young prince had somehow gotten away, and Thalon and most of his crew had been killed. That was an interesting turn of events. Tongra Taruk had hated paying the assassins so much coin, but he had to admit they had been very successful, up until now that is, when he needed them the most.
Right about now Kiltius and his armada would be sailing towards the city. If his man inside did his job, then soon the gate would be secured by the Saricons, and once secured, he would flood the city with his horde, slaughtering all who resisted, sparing only those who converted. He knew from experience that very few would convert, at least at first. But they would eventually find themselves bowing at the altar of Heln…they always did.
***
After grabbing Cat from her post on the wall, the trio made their way to the main entrance. The gate generally stayed open until late in the night. It wasn’t uncommon for people from the community outside the city to venture inside for drink, food, and sport, returning home late in the evening. Twenty Legionnaires guarded the entrance and a thirty more stood upon the barbican protecting the gate. There were several fail safes in place. If they were surprised, the men on the barbican could drop the portcullis, blocking off the entrance to the city. Then they could use the gate mechanism to shut the gate behind it. Any enemy trapped behind the portcullis would be cut to pieces. The mechanisms to run the portcullis and the gate were protected inside the barbican.
As they neared the entrance, the prince, still in severe pain, slowed. “I need a way to cover my face. You two hold me up like I drank too much. The guards see that all the time and won’t think twice about it. But I don’t want them seeing my face just in case they recognize me…and Cat, lose the Legionnaire cape and armor.
“You can use my cloak,” Brant said, unclipping it from around his neck and handing it to Prince Jarak. While the prince was putting on the cloak, Cat had stepped into the shadows of an alley to take off her cuirass and cape. She used the cape to wrap up the armor, slinging it over her back like a sack. Now she looked like a typical townsperson carrying supplies from the city.
Suddenly a flash of orange and red lit up the sky as a fireball shot into the darkness. It was extremely bright against the darkness and Jarak recognized it as a spell.
“What is that?” Brant asked.
“Spell. Looks like a signal,” Jarak replied.
“And it’s coming from the gate,” Cat added.
Prince Jarak put his arms around them both. “We need to get out of here. You ready?”
They both nodded and started walking. As they neared the guards Jarak lowered his head and dragged his feet, stumbling purposefully and causing Brant and Cat to adjust to his awkward gait. Then he started mumbling a song, acting like a drunken farmer.
Walking by a smiling guard, Brant kept eye contact with him, rolling his eyes as if to portray his frustration in having to take care of a drunken friend. “Little too much to drink, tonight,” he said, stumbling by them. The guards nearby laughed but said nothing, their smiles edged with something that nearly felt evil, like they knew something they didn’t. Brant thought it strange that no one seemed to have seen the fireball. At least they were acting as if they hadn’t.
Cat kept her head low. She had not been with the Legion long but she didn’t want to take any chances that they might recognize her. Luckily, none did, paying them very little attention.
They walked past the raised portcullis and onto the main path. There were a few people about, but not many. It was getting late and most people were within the safe confines of their homes. The road led to a wide stone bridge that spanned the narrow river. After the bridge, the town spanned for miles to the left and right, most of the homes built along the meandering river.
“Go left,” Brant ordered.
“How far?” Cat asked, still unsure who this stranger was that was helping them.
“Four blocks. It’s Master Rand’s estate.”
Prince Jarak stopped. “You know Kulvar Rand?”
“I do. I’ve been staying with him for the last year. I’d be happy to tell you the story but let’s get you to safety first. Besides, one of his servants knows a thing or two about healing and perhaps she can help you.”
“Alright, let’s go,” the prince murmured, his voice strained from the pain of his burns. “But we need to stop at a house on the way.”
“Whose? We need to get you to safety,” Brant said, his irritation and concern evident.
“A friend. It is just ahead.”
They found the house quickly, a small home tucked neatly between two larger homes on the other side of the river. The wooden door was locked but lantern light illuminated the window to the left of the entry. Brant knocked.
Several moments later a young man opened the door. He was wearing gray leggings and a heavy wool tunic over a long sleeved cotton shirt. It was Rath. When Jarak had returned from Lyone they had gotten together several times, but between Jarak’s busy days and Rath’s work as a scribe for the king, contact had been minimal. His eyes widened when he saw Jarak’s condition, his chest blackened by burns, while being supported by two strangers.
“Rath, you need to come with us,” Jarak moaned.
“What happened?”
“Listen. My mother and father are dead and there has been an attempt on my life. I think something even worse is going to happen tonight.”
As if on cue, screams suddenly sounded in the distance. They listened, glancing apprehensively behind them in the darkness. There was very little light coming from the city. Most of the houses were dark and locked up for the evening, though some windows still shone faintly with the soft light of candles and lanterns within. Most of the light, however, came from the myriad of stars twinkling in the clear fall sky, like thousands of shining eyes witnessing what was about to happen. More sharp screams pierced the calm of night, some of them sounding closer.
“What is happening?” Cat asked.
“I don’t know,” Brant replied. “But we need to get to Master Rand’s house. Now!”
Jarak looked back at Rath. “Quickly, grab your things. We have to go.”
The screams increased, filling the night with the sound of fear and death. Rath needed no further urging. “Give me a moment.”
***
Kulvar Rand made his way to the palace entrance where he had left Kade. His second in command was talking to two Sentinels who were standing guard at the entrance. Kade approached when he saw him.
“How many Dygon Guards do we have in the city?” Kulvar asked, keeping his voice low so the Sentinels couldn’t hear.
“We have near thirty. The rest are at Tanwen and Kreb securing the Kul-brite stores there. What is it?”
Kulvar looked around, unsure of who to trust or who might be listening. “Something is not right. Do you know these guards?” he asked, subtly indicating the men at the entrance.
“I do not. But I do not know many of the Sentinels,” Kade responded, wondering where Kulvar was going with these questions.
“I don’t recognize them, but as you said that could mean nothing. I’m not sure, but something seems amiss. I do not think the chef was involved in the murder of the king and queen.”
“Then who?”
“That’s what I’m going to try and find out. How soon can you get ten Dygon Guards here?”
“At the palace?”
“Yes.”
“Not long. They are at the barracks now.” The Dygon Guard had places to stay in all the cities in Dy’ain, private chambers outside the normal barracks. Being lords, and respected warriors, they were given better accommodations than the typical soldier.
“I want ten brought here as quickly as possible, and another twenty stationed at the main gate. Make sure they are outfitted for battle, and tell the men at the gate to be vigilant and watch for anything out of the ordinary.”
“It will be done. Where should I meet you?”
“The conference room.”
Kade nodded and ran from the palace. The two Sentinels, sensing something was amiss, looked about with uncertainty. But then again they were on high alert. Maybe he was just imagining things now. The fact was he did not know who to trust, so he said nothing to the guards.
He turned around and headed for the late king’s conference room.
***
Daricon slammed his fist on the conference table. “I want him found! How can you lose the prince!?”
Captain Tul’gon stepped back, bowing his head. “My Lord, I have men searching the city as we speak. If he is alive we will find him.”
They had found the bodies of the assassins but the prince’s body was not among them. Mylena handed Daricon a glass of wine, hoping to calm him. “Husband, do not fret. Surely he is alive.”
Suddenly the door burst open and two Sentinels crashed across the stone floor, their lifeless bodies spilling blood on the polished stone. At least fifty black clad men wearing black leather armor and wielding swords burst in and spread out, forming a perimeter around them.
Tul’gon, drawing his weapon, turned to face them. “What is this!? He stormed, looking angrily upon his dead men. “You will…”
He was cut short by a sword thrust through his chest. Daricon withdrew his Kul-brite blade and the captain fell to the ground, his lifeless body joining those of his comrades on the cold stone floor. “It’s about time. Where have you been? I’m tired of this charade.” Mylena stood next to him, her arm gently stroking his sword arm.
The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall Page 39
