22
Stormy-eyed, Hercullon marched back toward his quarters. The blood brothers had gotten into his head. Why would the young men risk their lives to warn me? Their words rang true, and he had a good sense of character when it came to meeting people.
They wanted to save their skins. That’s why. Sandal would never betray me.
Sandal called down to him from the top of the stairs. “My love, what is it? What’s happened?”
“Our guests escaped. It’s been handled.” Hercullon noticed Lorry standing beside Sandal with a surprised look on his face. He started up the stairs. “They’re back in the dungeon.”
Sandal hurried down the steps and met him halfway. She hooked his arm. “Did they try to kill you? Are they assassins?”
“No.” He shook his head. “They made ridiculous claims about my wife.” He glanced at Lorry. “And you.”
Lorry wrung his hands. “What sort of claims, my lord?”
“Nothing worth mentioning.” He let Sandal lead him up the stairs. “We’ll deal with them later. I have a fight to prepare for.”
“Of course, my love. I hate to see you distraught.” Sandal kissed his hand. “Come to our quarters, and I’ll soothe you. After all, our champion must be focused for his big victory tomorrow.” She added, as if speaking to herself, Where he’s sure to die.
“What?” Hercullon asked.
Sandal gave him a surprised look. “Pardon me, my love?”
He shook his head. “I thought I heard you say something else.”
The old fool is paranoid. Tomorrow his skull will be smashed like an egg, and he’ll have no worries anymore. Neither will we, Lorry said, but his lips didn’t move.
Hercullon tilted his head and glared at Lorry. “What did you say?”
Lorry blanched. “Nothing, my liege. Is something wrong?”
“Perhaps.” Hercullon squeezed his eyes shut. He heard Sandal and Lorry’s thoughts swimming in his head.
He’s losing his mind.
The old fool will die tomorrow.
The Homestead will soon be ours.
Sandal will be mine forever.
The Culpepper legacy will be destroyed once and for all, after this rotting goat dies.
Hercullon grabbed the rail and pulled himself up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His face broke out in a sweat as he tried to block their thoughts but couldn’t.
“My love, speak to me,” Sandal pleaded. “You don’t look well. You’re sweating.”
He made it to the top of the steps and stood with his chin down. “Those young men, Dyphestive and Grey Cloak, made awful accusations.”
“I know.” Sandal rubbed his back. “But the elf made inappropriate advances on me. You believe me, don’t you?” You old fool, of course you do.
“I’m not talking about that. Though he did accuse you of lying.” He lifted his eyes to look at them both. “The elf made an outrageous statement. He said the pair of you were lovers.”
Lorry let out a nervous laugh and swallowed.
Hercullon’s voice grew stronger. “They said you’re in league with Dark Mountain, that you plot and scheme my doom.”
How would the elf know we’re lovers? Sandal thought.
Lorry thought clearly, We’ve been plotting and scheming for a very long time, and we won’t fail now.
Hercullon saw the guilt in their eyes as plain as day. It vanished quickly, but it was there, as bright as a shooting star, then gone. His heart became heavy, but the furnace within began to churn.
Sandal hugged his arm. “They’re desperate, my love. They will conceive any lie to save themselves.” As would I. After all, I’ve been doing it for years.
Hercullon lifted his head. On heavy feet, he moved forward between the two of them. “Come. Let’s put this behind us and proceed forward. I have an important day tomorrow.”
“Absolutely, my liege. Shall I have the servants draw you a hot bath?” Lorry recommended. After all, it will be your last one, you noble savage.
Hercullon laid a heavy hand on Lorry’s shoulder. “I would like that. But first—” He grabbed Lorry by the neck and lifted him from his feet. He squeezed his iron fingers around the man’s vocal cords. “I’ll have the truth!” Using one mighty arm, he shook Lorry like a rag. “Have you been sleeping with my wife?”
Lorry’s face turned purple. He chopped at Hercullon’s arms to no avail.
Sandal tried to pull Hercullon’s arm down. “Have you gone mad, my husband? Let your faithful servant down!”
There was no mistaking the desperation in her thoughts and voice.
“Faithul! What do you know about being faithful?” He squeezed Lorry’s neck harder. “In your own words, tell me the truth!”
“I-I-” Sandal said.
Dinah, the Culpeppers’ daughter, dressed in leather and fur winter garb, came rushing from her room. “Father, what’s going on here? Put Lorry down! You’re killing him!”
“Yes,” Hercullon said in a robust voice. “I will kill him unless your mother tells the truth!”
“Hercullon, please, don’t do this.” She sank to her knees and sobbed. “It’s true.” Tears streamed down her face. “I love him. Not you.”
“Mother!” Dinah said in outrage. “How could you?”
“Because your father is a fool!” Sandal gathered her strength and glared up at Hercullon. “You and your barbaric nobility. An alliance with Black Frost is the future of our people. It is our survival! But you want to stand by your traditions, protect those slaving wolves beyond the border.” She spit on his boots. “You will get us all killed.”
“No, only you and him.” Hercullon looked Lorry dead in the eye. “I always knew something stank about you. I could never grasp it until now. You’ve always served Black Frost’s forces, haven’t you?”
“Not only have I served,” Lorry managed to say. “But I’ve delighted in it and your wife as well.”
Hercullon lifted Lorry above his shoulders. “Perhaps you’ll delight in this!” He hurled the man over the balcony.
“Noooo!” Sandal rushed to the railing.
Lorry landed like a cat, glared up at them with eyes that changed into a serpent’s, and scurried away.
Sandal’s jaw hung.
Dinah stood by her father’s side with her dagger out. “I’ve never seen eyes like that. What was he?”
“Evil of the worst kind. A chameleon.”
23
The main door into the dungeon groaned on its hinges. Mauk, who stood guard in front of Grey Cloak and Dyphestive’s cells, turned. His thick eyebrows lifted. He backed up and took a knee with his head down. “Hercullon! I mean, Lord Culpepper! It’s an honor!”
Hercullon’s mighty frame stepped into full view. He glowered down at the sitting brothers. “It appears you told the truth after all, but how did you get me to drink your potion of telepathy?”
“We didn’t.” Grey Cloak stood up.
Dyphestive joined him. “What happened?”
“Everything was as you said. I heard their thoughts the same as my own. I couldn’t believe what I heard.” Hercullon touched his cheekbone. “But when I saw the looks on their faces after I mentioned their affair and alliance with Dark Mountain, I knew.”
“I’m sorry,” Dyphestive offered.
“No matter. It is I who should offer my apologies and gratitude. It appears that Lorry is a chameleon, a savage, deceitful creature that infiltrated my stronghold and seduced my wife.” Hercullon sighed and shook off his sad look. “You shed light on the evil fiend. You have my thanks.”
“Did you kill it? Or him?” Dyphestive asked.
Hercullon shook his head. “The search is on, but fiends like that are difficult to detect, even for a barbarian.”
“What about Sandal?” Grey Cloak asked.
“She is with Dinah. We’ll try to work matters out, but at this time, I have more important matters to attend to. The contest is tomorrow.” Hercullon eyed Dyphest
ive. “I know it is much to ask, but will you still be my champion?”
Before Dyphestive could respond, Grey Cloak spoke up. “Would you free us so I might speak with my brother before he gives you his answer?”
“Of course.” Hercullon gestured for Mauk to release the brothers.
Once freed, Grey Cloak pulled Dyphestive aside and spoke in a low voice. “You don’t have to do this. Now might not be the right time.”
“You know as well as I do that we have to help them now. Ice Vale needs Hercullon. He’s a good man. It will fall to Black Frost without him.”
“Did you ever think that perhaps it already has?” Grey Cloak asked.
“Would you allow the Sky Riders at Gunder Island to die if you could stop it?”
Grey Cloak sighed. “Agreed. But you don’t know what you’re getting into. It sounds dangerous, fighting this barbarian.”
“Would you like to fight him for me?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.” Dyphestive smirked. “I’ll take my chances.”
“This is the Arena of Stone,” Hercullon said.
Night had fallen, and they’d traveled to the border between the Ice Vale township and the snowy ridges of the Wolves in the Rocks. “Tomorrow, the benches will be filled with thousands of raving people calling for death.” He eyed Dyphestive with fire in his gaze. “I love it.”
“I can see why. The seats look very comfortable,” Grey Cloak remarked.
The three of them, plus Streak, stood on the edge of the twenty-foot wall that overlooked the arena. The entire structure had been hewed out of stone. That included everything from the floor to the walls of the circular ring, and the rows of seats. The rough arena floor had boulders and stones of all shapes and sizes, forming a natural, rocky terrain. In the middle were slabs and boulders that made platforms and ledges ten to twenty feet high. Dark blood stains marred the ground and rocks. The footing appeared loose in many places.
“This is only used every five years?” Dyphestive asked.
“No, we have contests and challenges a few times a year. It keeps the masses entertained. We stand on the south end.” He pointed to the opposite side. “That is the north, where the Wolves in the Rocks will enter.” He narrowed his eyes. “Can you see them huddled in the shadows, sniffing out their opponent?”
Dyphestive nodded. “I do.”
“No doubt they’ve heard about White Ice’s slayer. Knowing they have a new opponent will make them wary.” Hercullon pumped his fist in the air and shouted, “We’ll bathe in your blood tomorrow, winter hounds! You’ll soon see!”
The distant figures hiding in the shadows retreated into the tunnel entrance and disappeared from sight.
“My brethren fear the unknown. Like magic, they fret about what they do not understand. Their ignorance keeps them hiding in their hills, so long as no one provokes them.” Hercullon pulled the cork out of a flask and handed it to Dyphestive. “Drink this. It will warm your blood.”
Dyphestive took a long swig of the bitter drink. “Eh, I think it will do more than warm my blood. It might rot it.”
Hercullon planted his fists on his hips and let out a gusty laugh. He howled above the winds. “Ah ha ha ha!” He took the flask from Dyphestive and stuffed it against Grey Cloak’s chest. “Drink with us, elf. It might be your brother’s last.”
Grey Cloak sniffed the contents and took a sip. “That’s awful.”
“Hah! That’s the best grog a barbarian can buy.” He took back the flask and drank. “You’ll be fighting Mad Wolf the Berserker. I need to tell you what to do to beat him.”
“So, he can be beaten?” Grey Cloak asked.
Hercullon shrugged and drank again.
24
The Arena of Stone’s seats were filled by midday from top to bottom. The citizens of the Ice Vale township, bundled in woolen coats, heavy scarfs, and winter caps, all crammed together on the south side. The sullen-eyed barbarians entered from the north, half-naked in furs and skins. They sat on the snowy stone benches, quiet, never blinking an eye.
A steady snow fell from the sky, covering the arena stones in a new layer of white frosting. The Homestead Guardians carried torches and lit the urns spread out along the arena rim. They kept one hand on their pommels as they passed by the icy gazes of the black-haired barbarians.
Hercullon Culpepper sat on a throne-like stone chair covered in animal pelts. Sandal sat on his right, and Dinah sat on his left. Sandal wore a frown, a glassy look in her eyes.
Grey Cloak and Dyphestive stood nearby, overlooking the arena. The citizens bristled, barely able to contain their excitement. If Dyphestive lost, they would have a new leader, and the betting folk were putting most of their wages against the Culpepper family.
“Do you get the feeling that a giant brawl could break out at any moment?” Grey Cloak asked Dyphestive.
With his eyes fixed on the barbarians, Dyphestive replied, “I’m only concerned about one fight.”
“Yes, I can see that. You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”
Grey Cloak watched Hercullon stand to greet dignitaries from across Ice Vale. They shook hands and bumped forearms, offered pleasantries and made short jokes. Sandal didn’t engage. The vibrant woman looked like her soul had been ripped out of her.
“It looks like someone’s having a bad day.”
“Huh?” Dyphestive glanced back at Sandal. “You might want to keep an eye out for Lorry, or the chameleon, whatever that might be.”
“I will.”
Dinah Culpepper left her seat, came down the stairs, and joined Grey Cloak and Dyphestive. She wrapped her arms around Dyphestive’s forearm. “I pray for your victory, and I thank you.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You are very brave to do this for my father.” She kissed his knuckles. “Be victorious.”
“Thank you,” Dyphestive said.
Dinah returned to her seat and sat down but not before giving her mother a disappointed look.
With his eyes fastened on Dinah, Grey Cloak said, “You know, being her husband wouldn’t be the worst thing you could do. She is very fetching—extraordinarily so.”
Dyphestive gave him a dull-eyed look. “I’m going to win, and we’re going to get out of here. We have more important things to do.”
The skies erupted with the frightening shrieks of dragon calls. Five dragons circled above: three grand dragons and two middlings.
Everyone in the crowd rose from their seats and cheered, waving their arms wildly. Only the stoic barbarians remained seated but with their dark eyes fixed on the sky and every hand on the handle of a blade.
“Zooks. I knew something bad like this might happen.” Grey Cloak studied the troubled look on Hercullon’s face. “It’s going to be difficult to be discreet with you prancing around in that arena.”
“They don’t know what we look like. Besides, there are a lot of Riskers,” Dyphestive said.
“Yes, and we’ve seen many of them, and they’ve seen us.”
“We were boys then. Much has changed since.”
Grey Cloak said, “We can only hope you are right, but Riskers have a sharp eye for detail.”
The five dragons circled one more time before landing on the rocky slopes overlooking the arena. Their riders, Riskers, one and all, were indistinguishable in their full suits of blackened platemail armor. The three on the grand dragons dismounted and took a path behind the southern entrance, vanishing below the rim.
Dyphestive’s eyes widened. Hercullon caught his worried stare and wandered down to the young men.
“What ails you?” Hercullon asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a wicked spirit.”
“Let’s say we’ve been trying to avoid the Riskers for quite some time,” Dyphestive stated.
“Oh, and why is that?” Hercullon asked.
“We—” Grey Cloak started.
Dyphestive cut him off. “We were once slaves in Dark Mountain. We escaped long ago.”
Hercullon nodded. “I know you to be honest men. I’ll take your secret to my grave, but I suggest you avoid them.”
Grey Cloak noticed Sandal leaning toward them. He blocked her view and said to Hercullon, “Try not to mention our names. The lower the profile, the better.”
“How will I introduce our champion?”
“Hmm… call him the White Ice Slayer.” He eyed Dyphestive. “And try to find a mask.”
Dyphestive pulled out the mask of Iron Bones. “How about this one?”
Grey Cloak took it from him and turned it inside out. “If you can’t find something else, this will have to do. Try not to make it obvious.”
“Maybe you should wear it,” Dyphestive suggested.
“I have this.” Grey Cloak held up the Scarf of Shadows. “And I can always cover up with something else.”
Hercullon squeezed Dyphestive’s shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. “Remember what I told you last night. If any man can do this, you can.” He waved down a pair of his guardians. “Take him to the chambers below. He’ll wait to battle down there.”
Dyphestive grasped arms with the slightly larger man. “I will win.”
Grey Cloak punched his brother in the arm. “You better.”
The Homestead Guardians led Dyphestive into the tunnels toward the rooms below.
“Your brother is difficult to read.” Hercullon rubbed his jaw. “I can’t tell if he’s scared or if he’s fearless.”
“He’s not scared. I promise you that much. Should he be?”
“Even if I were as young as him, I would be.”
Something stirred in the tunnel behind the seats above them.
“Ah, the Riskers come. You better lie low,” Hercullon suggested. “I must greet them.”
“You do that.” Grey Cloak took a seat in the crowd.
He felt eyes on him and caught Sandal staring. He averted his eyes and took a quick look at Hercullon and the Riskers he greeted. His heart jumped into his throat the moment he saw Hercullon shaking hands with Commander Shaw, who was accompanied by his son and daughter, Dirklen and Magnolia.
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 8
