Blade Asunder Complete Series Box Set

by Jon Kiln

  “Do you think we can reverse the possession?” Myriam queried Ganry, after he explained the situation. “Perhaps another ceremony to cast it out?”

  “I doubt he’ll let us perform another ceremony,” Ganry replied with his suspicions. “Especially while he’s controlled with some kind of nasty spirit. We’re working in the dark, until Azmariddian finds something in the scrolls. Or Shaman Grecia arrives, which could be tomorrow. I fear that by then, Cronos will be even deeper under its spell. I wish we could have spoken to Torno. His people all know of the spirit world, but he’s locked inside with Cronos, and Rochmyr too. To be honest, I’m not even sure they’re both still alive.”

  “No, surely not,” the Duchess sounded horrified. “Cronos wouldn’t have killed those two, he’s too close to them.”

  “It is not him in control anymore, grandmother,” Myriam explained. “We have to be prepared for the worse.”

  “It’s my hope that he’ll need their help in the coming days, while he tries to consolidate his position. So I’m hoping they’re alive, but I doubt they would help him willingly. When I arrived at his rooms, there was a freezing chill and a strong sulfur smell, similar to the one that surrounds the Emperor.”

  “You think they are possessed too!” Myriam cried out, unable to contain her feelings at the events that were unfolding.

  “I don’t know, my Lady,” Ganry said graciously. “It wasn’t so long ago that I would have dismissed any thoughts of someone being possessed. Put it down to simple wives tales or folklore. Yet, after what I’ve seen these last few years, I just don’t know what is real anymore.”

  Ganry still struggled to believe in magic, despite everything he had witnessed. It was clear there was something strange happening to the boy, he had seen it with his own eyes. Now, he feared the situation could only get worse.

  A knock on the door, before it swung open, brought Hendon into the Queen’s chambers.

  “Oh, Hendon,” Myriam urged, “please tell us you have found something to help the poor boy.”

  “No, my Lady. We are undone.” Hendon shook his head apologetically. “The scrolls have been destroyed while we were preoccupied. Azmariddian believes it to be foul play. When we returned to his rooms, it was full of smoke, and the scrolls burned.”

  “So, we not only have to contend with a possessed boy,” Ganry fumed, “but also a traitor in the palace. Could things get any worse?”

  Another knock on the door interrupted their discussion, and a Mirnean guard entered. “Cronos has left his room and gone to his father’s chambers, sire,” the guard reported.

  “I must go speak with him,” Ganry said. “Myriam, you stay here. I’m unsure how this is going to develop, and I’m uneasy with it. Artas, don’t leave your Queen’s side.”

  Artas was Myriam’s lifelong friend, and also her personal Knight. His bravery in the coup, some years ago, had earned him a knighthood. He had been training with Ganry, his mentor, for the past few years, so he could take the role of the Queen’s protector. A role, so far, held by Ganry, but Artas was filling that duty more and more these days.

  “Do you believe her to be in danger, Ganry?” he asked quietly, as he approached his mentor before he left.

  “Yes. I believe we are all in danger, and we’re not in our own kingdom. You must always stay close by her side, when not on our own lands.”

  Artas nodded. He would protect Myriam at all costs.

  Ganry closed the door behind him, instructing Artas to refuse entry to anyone until he returned.

  When Ganry arrived at the Emperor’s chambers, he found they were empty. Fearing the worse, he sought out a guard, who informed him that the Emperor and Cronos had moved to the throne room. Walking briskly through the stone corridors of the palace, Ganry felt the sun shining through the stained glass windows projecting a colorful light show on the walls. It was a grand old palace, one that Ganry had enjoyed exploring as a youth. Now, he had no time to appreciate its delights. He made his way to the throne room as quickly as he could, expecting trouble. When he arrived, two Mirnean guards stood by the door, barring entry.

  “No one is to enter without the Emperor’s permission,” one of the guards barked at him, before opening the door and slipping himself inside, to check if Ganry could be received.

  Ganry stood patiently waiting for the guard’s return.

  The doors finally opened, and Ganry was allowed in.

  Emperor Nestor, who had been unconscious only hours before, was sitting upon his throne. His skin was a pallid unhealthy color. By his side, was Cronos, who sat on a smaller throne made especially for the son of the Emperor. At either side of them stood the giant Rochmyr, and the wolf man Torno. Ganry was pleased to see them alive. The last time he saw them they were lying in a heap on Cronos’s chamber floor.

  “You have insisted on speaking with the Emperor.” Cronos was the one to speak for his father. “He is not well, so be quick, Palaran.”

  “It is you I wish to speak with, Cronos.” Ganry said nothing about being called a Palaran. He was a born and bred Mirnean, and Cronos knew that. “Although, I worry at your father being taken from his sick bed.”

  “Speak your words, Palaran.” Cronos was impatient with wasting time.

  “You agreed that Azmariddian could attend to you. You are not well, Cronos,” Ganry reminded him. “Both you and your father should be resting.”

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you, traitor to your kingdom? You would like to take over the throne of an old man, and a young boy.”

  “I have no desire to rule your kingdom, Cronos,” Ganry said, holding his anger in check. He knew these were not the words of the boy, but whatever it was that possessed him.

  “Then leave,” Cronos spat at him. “You and your Palaran entourage are not welcome here.”

  “Cronos,” Ganry tried to get through to the boy. “We are friends. You were given refuge in Palaran lands, when the witches tried to kill you. We saved your father from imprisonment and certain death. We mean you no harm.”

  The Emperor suddenly shot up from his throne, standing rigid and staring wide eyed at Ganry, pointing a shaky finger at him. “You are our enemies, all of you. Do as my son orders and leave. The penalty for disobeying the Emperor, is death!”

  Just as quickly as he stood, the Emperor slumped back down onto his throne. Even that simple task seemed to drain him. The skin of his face stretched taut with exhaustion. It was his eyes that shocked Ganry the most. As he looked into Nestor’s bright yellow eyes, he realized it was not his lifelong friend who stared back.

  “What have you done to your father?” Ganry cried out, turning his gaze to Rochmyr and Torno, the boy’s protectors. He hoped for their support, but their faces were impassive, and their eyes the same bright yellow as the Emperor’s. This confirmed his worse fears. It seemed the spirit in Cronos was controlling them all. It was not safe here anymore. His priority now, was to leave this kingdom as quickly as possible. He needed to get Myriam safely home.

  “You do well to hold your tongue, Palaran!” Cronos retorted. “Remember you are at the mercy of my father. You should leave now, and take that rabble of a party with you, while my father still feels merciful.”

  Ganry knew he was treading dangerous grounds. The boy could just as quickly have them all imprisoned. He bowed to the Emperor. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he acquiesced. “I was merely concerned for both your healths, but I see you have your father’s best interests in hand. I will inform my party to pack, and we will ready to leave your kingdom immediately.”

  This seemed to satisfy Cronos for now. The boy said nothing, but watched him suspiciously as if this were some trick he was playing. Ganry quickly left the throne room, returning to the Queen. They would have to leave immediately, and he needed to get word to the other Mirnean leaders. They must be warned that their Emperor was not who he seemed.

  7

  As Ganry entered the Queen’s chambers, he was pleased to see Qutaybah had joined her. They
would need all the help they could muster, if they were to leave these lands safely.

  “It’s good that you’re here, my friend,” Ganry greeted the large dark skinned man from Vandemland. “I am in need of your services.”

  He sat with Myriam and the Duchess D’Anjue, as they all drank from ornate silver goblets filled with wine. Ganry accepted one from a servant, relieved they had insisted on using their own staff. He swallowed the whole goblet in one.

  “Ganry, you look troubled.” Myriam frowned at her trusted protector and advisor, as she awaited his news.

  “I am, my Lady. You need to leave now. This evil that possess the boy is like a disease and has spread to the Emperor, and both of Cronos’s closest bodyguards. I must insist on you riding away this very night. The longer you stay, the more danger you are in, my Queen.”

  “You say I need to leave, and what about my trusted protector, is he leaving too?”

  “I need to stay, my Lady. The Emperor needs me, as does the country of my birth. I will help see you safely over the borders, and then I will return to battle this evil.”

  “Queen Myriam, my men are at your service.” Qutaybah nodded to Ganry, letting him know he would gladly accompany the young queen to her home.

  “We must start to prepare immediately then?” the Duchess spoke. “We will have to leave so much behind.”

  “A small price to pay for your safety, ma’am,” Artas joined in. “Shall I journey with the Queen, Ganry?” he asked.

  “Yes, Artas,” Ganry confirmed. “I fear for her life, and you are the best man to be by her side. Can you be ready this night, Qutaybah?”

  “My men are always ready, Ganry. I also think it wise to send a rider to Palara, advising them that the queen is returning early. They need to be informed that there may be problems on their borders again, with Mirnee.”

  “You’re right, Qutaybah, although I feel that whatever creature possesses the boy, it doesn’t yet feel strong enough to act against us. I think for the moment it prefers to see us gone. That could change any moment, and when it does, it may very well cast its eye further afield.”

  Ganry outlined his fears. “It seems that the demon within the boy is taking hold of any susceptible to its power. I fear the Emperor’s frail body will not withstand this assault, as he was already weakened. It is likely that with the Emperor gone, the path to the throne is clear. None would deny the albino prince his right to succeed, and that is what this entity is relying on.”

  “What would you have me do?” Chief Linz of the Lake people asked.

  “I need you to go and intercept the Palaran wolves. Shaman Grecia will be approaching the borders by morning, and I don’t want them caught up in a conflict with Mirnean soldiers. We are in great need of her specialist skills to help Hendon and Azmariddian search for answers, if we’re to have any hope of freeing Cronos. Hendon and I are going into the city. We’ll take Azmariddian with us, it’s not safe for him here.”

  “Where will you go?” Qutaybah asked. “Is there anywhere safe for you in these lands, my friend?”

  “I still have acquaintances here who will hide us,” Ganry replied. “I’m unsure of the details just yet, until I have spoken to those loyal to the Emperor, but when we’re safe, I’ll get word to you, Myriam, as soon as I can.”

  The Vandemland merchant nodded his approval. “This is a sound plan, Ganry, and as always, I’m happy to be of service to the Palaran royal family. Consider your Queen in safe hands. When we return, I too will send a messenger, to look for you and let you know of her safe return. You can use him to return any messages to me, or your Queen. Once Myriam is in her own borders, I will need to return home. My king will need to know of the dangers that are rising here in Mirnee.”

  The two of them grasped one another by one arm, in the age old tradition of comradeship, two warriors in agreement.

  “It’s good to know that you have our backs, Qutaybah. I appreciate you taking care of the Palaran Queen. If anything were to happen to her…” Ganry left the sentence unfinished. He could not consider that event.

  He had grown very fond of Queen Myriam, devoting his life to her service. She was unaware that she reminded him of his own lost daughter, who had died at the hands of his enemy in Mirnee. He could not bear the thought of losing her too.

  “Do not fear for us, Ganry. I’m sure that Qutaybah and Artas will ensure our safe passage home. It is your own safety that concerns me. My kingdom will be a duller place without you in it.” Myriam spoke truthfully. Ganry had been her right hand man since she had inherited the throne. She too, could not bear the thought of losing him.

  “I will return, my Queen, I promise. I can’t leave you in the inexperienced hands of young Artas for too long. He still has much to learn yet,” Ganry tried to lift the mood with humor. “Enough talk, you must all go, now, and ready yourselves to leave, as soon as night falls.”

  The Queen’s entourage found it easy to move around the palace, far more so than they expected. The palace guards were in confusion, due to the Emperor and his son’s strange behavior. Making haste, they were soon boarding the waiting carriages that they had arrived in. Much was left behind; belongings and state gowns, but speed was of the essence.

  Ganry approached Artas, who was sitting on his steed.

  “Artas, it’s time to take your place by the side of your Queen,” he encouraged the young man.

  “I’m ready, Ganry,” Artas assured him. “I have had the best of trainers. Should the path not be a smooth one, rest assured she is well protected.”

  “I know, my boy. I would like to think that you could ride clear to the border, but I fear that may not be so. That’s why I’ve asked Qutaybah to accompany you. Once you’re home, speak to the commanders of the armies. Make sure they prepare for a possible attack. With luck though, this will be over as quickly as it began. Much will depend on those whose powers I cannot comprehend.” Ganry thought of Hendon, Grecia and Azmariddian, and how much he would be relying on them to break the possession.

  “It is essential that we are prepared for any attack. We must secure our borders.”

  “Aye, sir,” Artas saluted as he accepted orders from his master. “We will be ready.”

  With that, the carriages set off, guarded by Qutaybah’s men. For a moment, it seemed as though they would not open the palace gates, but Qutaybah’s men pushed forward and the gates rose as the carriages left the palace, making their way home. It would be a difficult journey and Ganry regretted having to stay behind, instead of protecting Myriam. Though he knew she was in good hands. Qutaybah’s mercenary army were formidable fighters, and she had Artas by her side. Ganry knew Artas would die rather than see her come to harm. Ganry prayed it would not come to that.

  8

  “We have at least tonight to make some distance,” Qutaybah said to Artas, as they rode together beside the carriage.

  “We need to be careful,” Artas responded. “I would like to make as much headway as we can, but once we are into the rural areas, the roads are poor. There’s every chance of rupturing a wheel.”

  “We’ll stick to the good roads as long as we can. Though, I fear we’ll have to saddle up the spare horses soon enough.”

  Artas nodded, he knew that the Vanderlander was right. At some point they would have to abandon the coaches as their bulkiness only slowed them down. There were enough horses for everyone, but he feared for the Duchess D’Anjue. The ride would be hard for her, especially over a long distance.

  Artas noticed Myriam’s hand beckoning him from the carriage window.

  “My Queen, is all well in there?” he asked, approaching the window.

  “Yes, Artas. It’s a rough ride but a necessary one. Did Qutaybah mention if we might be stopping?” Myriam held onto the window ledge as she was jostled around inside the carriage.

  “I doubt we’ll stop to camp, ma’am,” Artas warned her. “We will stop for refreshments at some point, but we must get some distance between us and the ci
ty.”

  “I understand, it’s just my grandmother is not as tough as she used to be. When do you think we will cross the border?” Myriam queried.

  “I cannot answer that, my lady, but speed is of the essence. Hopefully by early evening tomorrow, if the conditions hold well for us.”

  Just as he finished speaking, the rain started. Light at first, but it soon turned into a downpour. The road was fast becoming muddy, as if even the weather of this accursed kingdom was trying to slow them down.

  “Curse these contraptions,” the Duchess D’Anjue spat, as she was jostled by the rough ride. “Give me a horseback any day.”

  “At least we’re dry, grandmother. Once we no longer have a roof over our heads, we will soon start to feel the chill.”

  The Duchess said nothing. She should be grateful for being dry and warm, but her bones ached at every bump. The maids had cushioned her as best they could, but nonetheless, the speed they were going was making the journey very uncomfortable.

  “Artas says we will stop soon for refreshments,” Myriam tried to console her grandmother. “Fortunately, Qutaybah’s party are well supplied, for I fear we will not be stopping at any inns.”

  “Oh, to be back in my own bed once again,” the Duchess sighed. “Your grandfather always said, ‘sleep as long as you can, for you never know when you may leave the comfort of your bed far behind.’ I think it was just his excuse for being lazy. Although I do miss him in my bed, even after all this time.”

  Myriam smiled at her grandmother’s comment. She rarely spoke of her grandfather these days. “I don’t remember him, but I wish I did, because I know my mother adored him. Mother always said he was the rock that the D’Anjue family was built upon.”