Empire Awakening (Maledorian Chronicles Book 2)

by John Forrester

  Master Henrik lay on a bearskin rug set before a massive fireplace. Dangling iron pots adorned the mantel. His forehead was thick with sweat and his skin pale and sickly. The man’s face twitched as he gave off shallow, rasping breaths.

  “I’ll see what I can do to save his life, but I won’t make any guarantees.” Crahn stepped over to the ailing man. Elendria wanted to kick the healer. After all that time negotiating, he was jeopardizing Master Henrik’s life. If he died, Elendria would do everything in her power to ensure the healer suffered for what he’d done, regardless of the cost.

  The healer placed a fat hand on Master Henrik’s forehead and closed his eyes. Not knowing what to expect, Elendria clenched hands with Lysha, feeling scared suddenly. Crahn’s red eyelids twitched, and his lips moved as he entered a trance. His meaty hand glowed red like the fire. After a few moments, he yanked back and threw something black and menacing at the flames. The room darkened, and a loud whoosh sounded, causing Lysha to gasp.

  The fire flared up, and Elendria swore she spied a shadow burning inside the flames. But the thing was soon gone.

  Crahn grunted in satisfaction and shuffled over to a wooden table stuffed with glass jars of herbs, roots, mushrooms, and small dried insects and animals. He picked out several samples and placed them into a bowl. Beside the fireplace, he grabbed a pair of tongs and reached into the fire to seize a glowing coal. He put it into the bowl and snapped his fingers. A churning, miniature inferno raged over the contents, sending a strange, sweet smell into the room. He set the now smoking bowl next to Master Henrik and nodded in approval.

  “He’ll live, thank the gods. The man possesses a strange fighting spirit.” The old healer studied Madam Lassengre as if seeking her approval. He only received a scowl in return. “But he’ll need to rest here at least a week for his lungs and throat to recover fully. ’Twas a mighty strong thing that struck your friend. Good thing I snatched it out of him in time. Nearly knocked out my fire, it did. Lesser demon, I’d say. Or a lightning spirit… Nasty lil’ buggers.”

  Elendria thought back to the spell the cultist had cast on Master Henrik and frowned. Was he the cause of the stable master’s affliction? She was glad the vile magician was dead. Though, when she thought of him, her mind turned to Baird, and she felt sad again. Ease his journey to the afterlife, she prayed to Nenlil and wished her lost friend blessings and eternal peace.

  Master Henrik’s groggy voice interrupted her thoughts. She glanced over to find his mouth open. His slurred voice rambled nonsense. But after a moment, his words became clear enough to understand. “Those bastards… those bastards. They killed the children. So many of ‘em. Die in hell, ya bastard cultists. Die in pain…”

  He sighed, grimacing.

  As she leaned in closer to hear his words, a massive jolt struck her, causing her eyes to flare open in terror.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Elendria felt an urgent buzzing in her stomach, heart, and forehead. She staggered back, gasping at the intensity of the magical attack.

  “What’s going on?” Lysha frowned, reaching out a comforting hand.

  There was a fierce, constant pressure pushing against her stomach. Over her heart, it felt like a cold block of steel was pounding over and over again. She squeezed her eyes together, fighting the pain. Then a pinging sensation came, striking her forehead incessantly. It was driving her insane.

  The crackling fire at the hearth distracted her attention from the assault, and she poured her mind into listening to the rhythm of the sound. After what seemed like an eternity of anguish, she glanced around the room, gulping in a sharp breath of air.

  “What is wrong with you?” Madam Lassengre said, turning her attention away from Crahn.

  Why hadn’t the sorceress seen what was happening to her? “Someone is attacking me.” Elendria’s voice was barely a whisper. “A magician… is casting a spell against me. It feels like ice magic.”

  “For goodness sakes, do something!” shouted the sorceress. “Fight it with everything you have.”

  The pressure was building to a crippling intensity. Elendria opened her mouth and panted in terror.

  “What can I do to help?” Lines of worry spread across Lysha’s forehead.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing any of us can do to stop the attack.” Madam Lassengre frowned. “The girl has to fight it on her own.”

  Elendria heard the worry in the old woman’s voice, but she also sensed the scorn. Madam Lassengre didn’t believe in her ability to win against this assault.

  “I need to go near the fire… I’m so cold.”

  But at that moment, a disabling wave of pain struck hard, sending her toppling to the ground. There was an agonizing pressure on her stomach. She cast a spell of heat to push away the cold block pummeling her heart. With a trick of the mind, she distracted herself from the perpetual annoyance of the pinging sound, focusing instead on studying the measured rising and falling of her chest. Only through diligent, regular breathing could she deal with the attack. It was all she could do to avoid slipping into insanity. Madam Lassengre never warned her it could be this bad.

  “Elendria!” shrieked Lysha.

  The world started to spin. Elendria began to shiver. The enormity of the assault was causing a wave of cold to seep deep inside. Her skin turned blue. Though she was casting the spell of heat to counter the effect, she was losing under the sheer volume of power. This magician must’ve had something to aid in the strength of his casting, like a crystal or a magical artifact, or perhaps something darker, like a demon.

  She shuddered at the idea. “Why don’t you help me?” she shouted, tensing her eyes as she tried to hold herself together. She glowered at the sorceress, furious at the old woman for doing nothing.

  But the old woman only shook her head in response, eyes indifferent and cold.

  A coughing fit wracked her frame and forced Elendria to her knees. She spat out a gob of blood and winced at the pain. She couldn’t take it anymore.

  The door slammed shut, and she squinted at the firelight. Lysha helped her over to the fire, and Elendria felt a rush of heat filling her body. She sighed at the pleasant warmth. It helped for the moment. She took a deep breath, and her heartbeat slowed as the pain and pressure subsided.

  Instead of cold, heat now flooded her body, and her skin turned ruddy and flushed. She stopped the spell and glanced around, taking in the surroundings. The healer’s house was crammed with bookshelves lined with jars filled with strange dried insects and animals. The small room was imbued with the smell of herbs and pipe smoke.

  Everyone was staring at her, fear seeped in their eyes.

  The room was now far too suffocating. She took a sharp inhalation to counteract the strange feeling.

  She pushed up and staggered away from the blistering fire, sweat drenching her clothes and dripping down the sides of her face. This heat was going to kill her. Lysha and Maggie helped her as she ambled over to the door.

  “Where are you going?” The sorceress said, her voice sharp. “Stay put and fight this thing!”

  “No, I need some fresh air… must cool down.” She had to clear her head. Her temples were throbbing and thick, and she could feel the beginning of a raging headache. Though she was weak from the exertion of defending herself, she still managed to make it outside with the help of her friends.

  The cold night air helped cool her body a bit, but to her alarm, she realized there was still a source of heat afflicting her. The attack had lasted so long she realized she’d become numb to the buzzing sensation in her stomach. Fright overwhelmed her and turned to desperation as she understood the magical assault was continuing, though with a different spell.

  “He’s still attacking me,” she whispered and glanced up at Lysha’s worried eyes.

  There was an intense malevolence in the attacks, and for some reason, she knew it was from Relek, the young cultist apprenticed to her father. Was his anger fueled because of the murder of Khelor, the old cultist w
ho was killed by Baird? As she focused her mind again on the spell, she sensed the buzzing in her stomach and the hot pounding of a foreign force against her heart. The pinging on her forehead was also there, but this time, it was like a finger of flame tapping her third eye.

  “You must tell me what you sense. Is it heat?” The sorceress studied her with a strange intensity.

  “What does it look like? I’m sweating like a pig. Of course, it is heat.”

  Elendria steadied herself against the wall. The power of the enemy’s spell was too strong. She had to do something. She couldn’t take it anymore. The attack was wearing her down. The heat building up inside caused her skin to flush sweat so fast she feared she’d burn up from the heat. She cast a desperate glance at Lysha, knowing she was her only hope for survival.

  “Help me, please, Lysha.” She squeezed her hand, and Lysha gasped in panic at the heat of her touch. “Cast an ice spell over me. I need to cool down; otherwise, I’ll be killed by the heat. Please!”

  Lysha studied her with hesitant eyes, but finally gave in, nodding in agreement. She placed her hands on her stomach and chest, and ice crystals begin forming on her fingertips. Elendria could feel the cold pouring into her body, cooling her in a few seconds.

  She let out a sigh of relief and closed her eyes to be certain. The buzzing in her stomach had finally ceased. For now, she was safe.

  “Thank you.” Elendria studied her friend’s face. Her former worry had melted into relief.

  “You would have done the same thing for me. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  Elendria felt comforted by the look of fierce determination in Lysha’s eyes and squeezed her arm in appreciation.

  “Are you feeling better?” Maggie looked tired and drained. She glanced at Madam Lassengre as she sidled up alongside.

  “How could she be?” The sorceress scoffed. “The girl was nearly killed. She’ll survive, for now, though she suffered a severe attack. The young magician wants you dead, Lady Elendria.” The old woman’s usually confident face looked frustrated and worried. “I fear I must do something to help prevent future attacks. Distance will help, but there must be something else I can do…”

  “I can’t think about that right now. My brain needs sleep,” Elendria said. “Can we rest at an inn? I’m exhausted.”

  The sorceress bobbed her head and glanced at Crahn. “Here’s payment for taking caring of him over the next week. See to it that he recovers, or I will come back and transform you into a toad.”

  The old healer grunted but took the coin purse. Elendria said goodbye to the stable master, wishing she could stay by his side. But they took their leave of the place, and she felt comforted knowing the old man slumbered peacefully.

  The first light of dawn painted the sky in a faint pink wash. A wave of fatigue settled over her, and she shambled toward her horse, like one of the walking dead.

  They mounted up and took the short ride over to the only inn in Wilhem, a dilapidated place called the Hog’s Hole. She found the name fitting. Two stories tall and sprawling, the log and mud inn looked tired from too many long winters and years of poor maintenance. Madam Lassengre headed over to wake the stable boy. The grumpy lad almost refused to rouse.

  “Ya won’t find any place to sleep inside,” he muttered. “And we’ve no stalls for your horses. If it’s sleep ya want, lay claim to the hay in the loft. Even the great room in the inn is filled with refugees from Criswall. They’re sleepin’ on the floor. Damned revolution… The ruination of our Kingdom, I say. With the King and Queen dead and the nobles fleeing, what’s left? Farm and land, I tell ya, that’s all.”

  After the sorceress planted a few silver coins in the boy’s hand, he begrudgingly tended to their horses. They followed his advice and climbed the ladder to the loft above the stables and settled in the scratchy hay. Soon, Elendria fell into a deep sleep, listening to the murmuring of the horses below.

  She woke to the smell of oats and horse dung, and stretched, glancing around at the wooden beams illuminated by the dim light. Thankfully, she enjoyed a dreamless sleep. Though she was alone in the loft, she peered down and spied Maggie stroking the side of her horse, the girl absorbed by the feeding creature.

  Elendria’s stomach grumbled in hunger. The girl looked up at her and grinned. “Was that yer stomach complaining? Sounded louder than the horse. Should be food at the inn. Most of us woke an hour or so ago. ’Twas my turn to keep an eye out over ya.”

  Elendria climbed down the ladder and gave the girl her thanks. Maggie nodded and turned back to the mare as she sauntered off toward the inn. Outside the stables, she found the squalid square littered with chickens and goats, distraught nobles, carriages, and frowning villagers, though due to the influx of silver and gold, she imagined they should be smiling.

  She opened the door to the Hog’s Hole and was greeted by the thick smell of meat smoke and the sweat of unwashed bodies. Few eyes bothered to notice her arrival in the crowded place. She shuffled around the tables stocked with sulking nobles and found Lysha and Madam Lassengre in an intense conversation with a young, dangerous looking man. He was dressed in leather armor and sported a brown hunting hat adorned with a bright yellow feather.

  The man’s gray eyes bore into hers with a strange mixture of curiosity and attraction, causing her to flush in embarrassment. He was handsome in a grizzled, outdoorsman kind of way and appeared to be of a similar age to Prince Jondran. Where the prince was clean-shaven, this man wore a week-long beard. If she could guess, she’d say he was a scout or a hunter of some kind.

  “Indeed they were, and now, who knows what the future holds?” Madam Lassengre let her words dangle in the air for a moment. “The armies of Mar Thagroth all marched down to fight Jalinfaer. Did they conscript men from Wilhem?”

  Devin gave an irritated click of his tongue. “You should know how those bastards work. They grabbed a good many of our men and forced a sword in their hands. Foolishness…” He took a long draw on his beer and released a heavy exhalation. “And now, what’s with all the people fleeing Criswall? Is it true what they say? The Night of Blood, everyone is calling it. But I don’t know what to believe.”

  “You think they are lying? Believe it, you best do. Believe it and know it’s far worse. There’s a madman and his murdering band of magicians running wild in the city.” Madam Lassengre’s voice was grim and angry, and for some reason, it upset Elendria to know she was talking about her father. “They’ve killed many of the nobility and the government officials. We rode past the city square and found it littered with hundreds of bodies. They’re killing the rich and sparing the poor.”

  To her surprise, Devin grunted in amusement. “And you think that’s a bad thing? Now don’t get all upset, sorceress. I know you worked with many of the nobility for years, but even you railed against their corruption.”

  “Murder is still murder, Devin. You should know better. But they do have their faults and not only a few of them.” The old woman’s eyes grew dark and reflective, and this caused Elendria to remember her visit to the palace and their ridiculous displays of wealth. “But we have laws and courts of law, and the Duke and this madman ignored everything and were indiscriminate in their executions. Children, women, and helpless old men…” Her voice broke with emotion, and her eyes welled up and turned red.

  The table turned quiet at her words. For a long while, Elendria thought of the hours she spent as a child in the mysterious forest outside their estate in Maren Downs and the long walks she took with her father. His voice always had this mischievous, excited quality to it, and his eyes would light up in fresh fascination upon discovering a rare mushroom or fern or a newt waddling along in a bog. He made her realize the world was beautiful and captivating. Through his constant earnestness and absorption in each moment, she was lured into his magical, ethereal world.

  When he hunted a rabbit, he always apologized to the creature for killing it and vowed to Nenlil that his own body would someday be used to nu
rture the forest and bring new life to the world. And she believed he meant it and still did. A part of her was convinced that, when those boys were killed as a result of his attempts at summoning Ba’al, he was uttering those same words of power.

  Father always did things for a reason. Whether his reasons appeared insane to others, still, she somehow accepted the meaning behind the things he did and said and the way he thought. Even now, her mind was churning, trying to process the why of what he did in Criswall. A serious, wiser part of her understood that knowing would only happen after she saw him again and listened to his words. But she knew she couldn’t handle it now, and perhaps, she wouldn’t ever be able to handle it. It was all twisted up inside, like an ugly lump of old, rotten knots.

  Madam Lassengre finally gestured to the young man who still eyed Elendria with significant interest. “Pardon me, Lady Elendria. Allow me to introduce you to Devin. He’ll be your guide for the duration of your journey. Don’t look worried. He can be trusted. He’s an old friend, and he knows the Great Barrier Mountains very well.”

  “You’re not traveling with us?” Elendria’s mouth opened in an astonished gape.

  “Don’t get all upset. Why don’t you eat something first, and I’ll explain.” The sorceress motioned toward the remnants of a dish of roasted pork lathered in oil and burned potatoes. Scattered chunks of garlic and onions circled the meat, like soldiers advancing on a giant beast.

  Elendria took a fork and stabbed a potato, eating in sullen silence. How could Madam Lassengre leave them like this with a stranger?

  “An urgent matter requires my attention,” the old woman began. “Events in the Kingdom of Mar Thagroth are moving faster than I expected. I’ve heard from various allies scattered across the kingdom. They’ve sent word of their concern regarding the capture and imprisonment of the King and Queen of Mar Thagroth. With the army marching south for war and Criswall in a state of upheaval, there’s renewed interest in peace talks with Jalinfaer. Luckily, word of the revolution in Criswall has reached the wizards in the army.