Blade Asunder Complete Series Box Set

by Jon Kiln

“Yes, I saw the hags. I’ve been sensing their presence for a while, but couldn’t be certain,” he responded. “It explains the barrier across the pass. They are conjuring up the storms and blockages.”

  “But there’s no barrier here,” Artas noted.

  “No, this is an ancient forest,” Qutaybah said. “It’s stood here for many a millennia, and seems impervious to outside magic, other than nature’s own.”

  Myriam looked around at the old and gnarled trees with a growing respect. She had heard tales of Chervin Forest when she was a child. It had always been portrayed as a dark and dangerous place, but now she was here she felt no fear.

  “Let us not rest for too long,” Qutaybah instructed. “I would like to be sleeping in my own lands this evening.”

  18

  Ganry set off, searching for Cronos in the palace. It was slow going, moving around these hidden passageways, and very limiting. He needed to walk freely around the palace corridors while they were so deserted. This seemed strange as the palace had always been a hive of activity in the past. If he was to move around without suspicion though, he would need to disguise himself.

  Finding an exit, it brought him out into the far reaches of a kitchen’s cold room. This was perfect, as he doubted the cooks would even notice him. They would think him a stable hand, or other worker of some sort. Deciding the best strategy was to walk boldly through the kitchen, rather than skulking in the corners, he made swiftly for the exit. As he passed a pile of fresh bread rolls, his stomach rumbled. He had not eaten for hours, and picked one up, biting into the warm dough.

  “Out of my kitchen!” a cook yelled, looking at him red faced and angry at the intrusion in his domain.

  Ganry decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and made a quick exit, but not before tipping a wink at the cook. She rewarded him with a smile, despite her annoyance.

  Once out of the kitchen area he turned into the corridor, heading towards a flight of stone steps. This was the servants’ route, and should give access to every floor in the palace. Taking the steps two at a time he bounded up to the next level. At the top, he carefully looked down the hallway, spotting a guard on duty at the far end. Trying to look casual, he strolled down the corridor towards the guard, as if he had every right to be here. It seemed to work as the guard simply ignored him, even when he drew closer.

  Ganry was pleased to see the man was about his size, perhaps a little more portly, but that’s an occupational hazard with guard duty; it’s easy to become fat and slow. Ganry got closer to the guard, who lifted his head and looked at him, but after a quick glance, the guard dismissed him from his thoughts.

  Ganry was now close enough to strike, and he did. A swift uppercut to his chin, and the guard staggered back, but remained on his feet. Ganry followed up with a knee into his groin, causing him to double over with his hands cradling his masculinity. Ganry drew his sword, but with no intention on killing the guard, he brought his hilt down hard on the back of his head. That seemed to do the trick, as he finally fell with a low grunt. Blood seeped from the wound in his scalp.

  Ganry grabbed his feet and pulled him along the corridor, dragging him into a linen cupboard. Shutting the door behind them both, he stripped the outer clothing off the guard, and a few other pieces of his uniform. He dressed himself in the uniform, and though it was a loose fit, it would serve its purpose. He tied up the guard’s hands and feet behind his back, and finally gagged him; he was taking no chances. He still had to find Cronos, and assess him to see if he was himself, or the demon.

  With his disguise as a palace guard, he could walk around freely and nobody gave him a second glance. He decided to head to the throne room first. From there he would check the Emperor’s quarters. He climbed another flight of stairs to take him to the correct floor, heading towards the royal corridor where the throne room was situated.

  As he stepped out into the corridor, he was forced to quickly step back out of sight. A group of witches were leaving a room and Ganry did not trust his disguise to their scrutiny. This was a bad turn of events. The last time the witches caused trouble, Palara had paid a heavy toll.

  He stayed in the shadows until the witches were out of sight.

  What were they doing in there? he wondered. What evil deeds were they up to this time?

  He stepped back into the royal corridor once they had passed him by, and strode purposefully to the throne room. He was confident his disguise would hold, and doubted that every guard was familiar with each another. As he approached the double door to the throne room, he noticed it had been left open. He saw a small figure on a stone slab. Even from here he could make out the white hair of Cronos,

  “Stop, soldier,” one of the guards commanded, blocking his way into the room with a pikestaff. “What business have you here?”

  Ganry responded, “I’ve come to dispose of the body.”

  Just for a moment, Ganry thought his ruse would not work. The guard scrutinized him, and then looked back into the room at the prone body. Then, he lowered his pike and allowed him entry.

  Ganry stepped into the room, fighting an urge to run to the boy. He moved slowly, as if unconcerned. As he approached the stone table, for a moment he feared the worst. The boy lay motionless, blood congealed around his neck. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he noticed the boy’s chest rise and fall. Cronos was still alive, but for how much longer?

  He must act quickly if he was to save him, and get him to Azmariddian as soon as possible. He attempted to staunch the flow of blood, which thankfully was now only a trickle, with a strip from the bottom of his tunic. Grabbing a large canvas that draped across one of the thrones, he wrapped up the body, completely concealing it.

  He could not risk the boy regaining consciousness and alerting the guards. He threw him over his shoulder as if he were a sack of provisions, and the boy grunted out a low sound. Glancing at the door, neither of the guards appeared to have heard the grunt. Boldly, he stepped through the doorway, and down the corridor. His nerves were on edge, just waiting for the guards to stop him. No such call came, and he turned the corner, out of their sight.

  Not able to carry the body back through the kitchen to the secret passageway, as it would raise suspicions, he instead made his way down to the palace basement. He knew where the furnaces were for burning the waste of the palace. Anyone seeing him go in that direction would simply assume he was going there to burn the body.

  Knowing the area well, from when he played as a child, he also knew that behind one of the huge furnaces was a small manhole that led down into a tunnel. From there he could gain access into the palace courtyard. It was a struggle maneuvering the boy through such confined spaces, but eventually they arrived out in the open air.

  Fortune was on his side, as close by stood a wagon with a horse already hitched. Heading straight for it, he placed the boy in the back. Jumping in the front seat, he drove the wagon towards the heavily armed gates. Not one of the guards gave him a second glance as he rode out of the palace, still in his disguised uniform.

  Just as Ganry was driving the wagon out of the palace compound, an old man came out of the laundry door, hands piled high with linen to deliver to the barracks. As the old man looked on, there was an empty space where his horse and cart should be. Surely his old nag had not wandered off on her own. He stood and scratched his head, wondering why anyone would want to steal his old horse, and his creaky cart. Returning to the hot laundry room, he alerted a guard of his loss. He could not do his duty without his cart. The guard shrugged, he dare do nothing unless ordered by his commander. This was just yet another odd event of many that were happening all over the palace.

  As soon as they were out of sight of the palace, Ganry jumped off the wagon and checked on Cronos. All was not lost, as the boy still drew breath, but Ganry knew time was of the essence. How was he going to get the boy to Azmariddian? He would have to figure it out, and quickly, for Cronos’s life depended on it.

  19
<
br />   Entering the city had been easier than Linz thought it would be, if not a little uncomfortable. They had hidden in the wagon belonging to the farmer they had rescued from the palace soldiers. He was only too happy to help. The wagon was packed with crops intended for market, but first they had all laid on the wagon’s backboard, then they were covered with a tarpaulin, before being buried in vegetables. It was cramped, awkward and stifling, but if they wanted to enter the city, there was probably no easier way. There was only one moment when Linz felt they may be in trouble as they passed through the armed gates

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” the farmer complained. “Harassing a hardworking man who only sells the fruits of his honest labor. I should not have to be accosted by the likes of you!” the farmer raged at the two guards who were questioning him. “I have come to this city every week for as long as I can remember to sell my crops. Now, you stop me and search my wagon for what? Are you looking for rotten turnips? Well, go ahead, if you like to rummage stinking vegetables, be my guest.” His hand gestured for them to get on with it.

  The two guards looked at each other dubiously, unsure who was going to dig about in a pile of dirty vegetables, when neither of them really expected to find anything. Both these guards had years of service on the gates and had never known such a high level of security. They did not know why, and no one was telling them anymore than they were telling the good people of the city. It seemed like madness reigned once again in the palace.

  Only weeks ago they were celebrating their young heir on his coming tenth year, and now there was an uneasy sense about the whole city. A curfew put in place, and all foreigners ordered to be rounded up and thrown in the dungeons. Rumor had it that the Emperor was on his death bed, and the young prince was behaving erratically. Yet none dared question the orders they were told to perform. To do so would mean court martial and death.

  To top it all, this was the season of summer. Normally it would be warm and bright in Mirnee, but these last few days heavy rain had lashed through the kingdom. Such ill winds did not bode well for a nation that was only just recovering from a witch uprising.

  “On your way, old man, we’re only following orders,” the guard said in resignation as he waved him through.

  Once in the market square, Linz and his group exited the wagon, out of sight of any prying eyes. He thanked the farmer for his help, for he had taken a great risk smuggling them in here. Had he been caught, Linz was in no doubt the farmer would have suffered the same fate as them.

  “Outsiders have always been welcome in my country, friend.” The farmer gave a puzzled shake of his head. “I don’t know what’s got into our Emperor. Our borders have never been closed to other kingdoms.”

  “There are dark times ahead of us,” Linz replied.

  “You take care of yourselves,” the farmer warned. “Keep under those cloaks, you don’t want to be seen by the wrong people.”

  “And you, too. It is not only outsiders who should fear the changes that are happening in Mirnee,” Linz replied as they clasped each other’s hands in a show of friendship.

  Quickly, they made their way through the various layers of the city, keeping to the least populated streets and alleyways. If they saw any guards, they took cover until they had passed them by. The palace city was built in tiers, with the Emperor’s palace at the top. The lower the tiers, the poorer the residents. They were making their way to the wealthy merchants’ area, two tiers below the palace. There they would find Ganry’s uncle’s house.

  Linz followed the instructions Ganry had given him, to make his way through each gate. The people of the city were nervous, he could tell. Everyone seemed to be wary of the guards. This worked to their advantage as they didn’t stand out so much, and it helped them blend in with the locals.

  Finally, they were ringing the bell to a large gate, and Linz hoped he’d remembered Ganry’s instructions correctly. He sighed in relief when a man, who looked just as Ganry had described, arrived to answer the ringing bell. He stared at them nervously as he approached.

  “Berne?” Linz called to him. “Are you Berne, manservant to Ludas?”

  “Who asks?”

  “Ganry has sent us. We need your help.”

  Berne stared at them for a moment through the small peek hole in the gate. His eyes flitted over each of them, until he was sure he had inspected them all. Just for a moment, Linz feared he had the wrong place, and the man would leave them outside in the street. Then, he could hear the manservant rattling his keys as he unlocked the gate on the other side, and beckoned them into the courtyard.

  Linz was quietly relieved. Even more so when they entered the house, because sitting at a kitchen table, was Ganry himself. No wonder the servant had been nervous.

  “You found Grecia. Well done Linz, my young friend,” Ganry hailed the chief in greeting as they embraced each other.

  “Grecia, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Ganry welcomed the wolf people. “I have the boy, Cronos, and I fear for his life. He lays under some evil influence, though he is no longer possessed. Come, let’s go to him.”

  Linz, his men, and the wolf woman’s companions, all stayed in the kitchen. Berne served them with hot refreshments, while Ganry and Grecia went to tend to Cronos.

  “We cannot stem the bleeding from the cut to his throat,” Ganry explained, while Grecia looked over the boy. “I fear he will bleed out if we don’t find a way.”

  He had feared he could not get Cronos to the druid, Azmariddian, in time. Now, hopefully, Grecia could save him.

  “We need to work quickly, Ganry,” Grecia ordered, as she looked at the boy as he lay on the bed, even paler from the loss of blood.

  She touched the wound and jolted back, as if in pain.

  “There is a dark evil here. It feels centuries old.” Grecia shuddered as she spoke. “I have arrived just in time, as much longer and he would be past the point of no return. I can stem the bleeding, the spell is not a complicated one. When they cast it on him, they probably did not expect someone coming along to save him.”

  Grecia quickly got to work, undoing the spell that was stopping Cronos’s skin from healing. She could not completely heal his body, that would happen naturally, and in time he would make up for the loss of blood. As she was tending to the open wound, Cronos opened his eyes.

  “It is so good to see you, Grecia,” his voice was weak, but he managed a smile. “Am I free of that thing?”

  “Yes, yes,” she said, stroking his forehead. “It is gone, and I will not allow it back again. Now sleep, we need you strong. When you awaken, you must eat and drink. For now have a sip of this water, and then back to your sleep. It is the best way to heal.”

  He was grateful of the liquid in the cup, for he was parched. Sleep sounded wonderful, especially now that terrible pain in his head was gone.

  20

  “Am I not truly beautiful?” the tall woman asked of her commander, as she looked at her image in a mirror.

  She turned to look at him when he did not reply immediately, causing her underling to cower where he stood.

  “It’s as well I’ve no need for your response, Commander,” Thalia mocked the quaking man. “My wealth of beauty is insurmountable,” she said, and turned back to look at herself in the mirror. The commander sighed in relief.

  “I will have a need to rest for long periods at a time. During my deep sleep I will be vulnerable, while I acclimatize to this world.” Mistress Thalia began to explain the reason why she had summoned him. “I expect guards around me day and night, until I am at full strength and can protect myself without any assistance.”

  The commander nodded his understanding. “I will see to it, Mistress.”

  “Now, on to other business. Are we certain the borders are closed? We want no interference from outsiders, until Mirnee is truly in my grip.”

  “Your witches have enchanted barriers on most of the borders,” he informed her.

  “Most?” The queen turned back
to her commander, once again unhappy with his response.

  “The borders on Vandemland, by the ancient forest, seem impervious to their magic,” the possessed commander replied nervously. “They have been unable to create a barrier there. As far as I am aware, that border remains open, but it is manned by your army.”

  “How can this be? There is no greater magic than the magic I command!” Thalia pondered this for a moment, before continuing. “It matters not,” she said, flicking her hand as if to push the tiny problem away. “Soon I will have a bigger army of demons and this whole world will quiver at my presence.”

  “Yes, my mistress,” he bowed slightly.

  “And what of the boy?” she asked, wondering whatever had happened to Cronos.

  “I am told his body was disposed of, in the furnace, Mistress,” the commander answered, though in reality he did not really know. Guards on the door of the throne room had witnessed the body being carried away to the furnace, so someone must have ordered the disposal.

  “Good,” Thalia purred. The last thing I need, she thought to herself, is his magic to deal with. The boy had no idea of his true power, and neither did the people around him. It seems the truth of the royal albino had been forgotten. Fools, all of them. With him dead, Thalia doubted there was any way for them to stop her.

  “I will be opening a vortex in the dungeon. It will be safe from prying human eyes down there. Has the dungeon been prepared for me, as I requested?” she queried the commander.

  “Yes, Mistress,” the commander spoke robotically. “All is ready and prepared just as you have instructed.”

  “Then go, and warn the coven I will be performing the ceremony this very night. Let the gates of the underworld be unlocked, and the demons unleashed on this place.”

  The commander hurried off to do his mistress’s bidding.

  Almost all human commanders within the city were now possessed by a demon. Thalia controlled the leaders of the military, as well as the royal council. Every dictate from the council, would be enforced by the army. There had been some dissension, but that had been swiftly dealt with by public execution. There is nothing like the sight of comrades hanging from the city walls to ensure all follow commands. Soon, Thalia would no longer need the human army to enforce her will, she would have her own army of demons. Powerful beings, much stronger than any human. With these she would rule the whole world.