"Do you think he will be dangerous?" The dark haired woman asked.
"I suspect he is very dangerous... But only to his enemies."
A slight sound caused them both to turn towards the door leading below decks. "I suppose the question becomes... 'Are you my enemy?'" a very bedraggled Thomas GrimHolden, King of Pershara, said while holding on to the doorjamb for support.
Chapter Eight- To Beard the Lion in its Den
Altana fumed. Her prize possession had escaped. The three men who had allowed it to happen had recently become her newest undead dark-kin. The two guards she had converted quickly. Although certainly agonizing, their deaths had occurred within the span of an hour. That fool Maltacken priest was another story. His conversion and subsequent death she had dragged out for the better part of a week. She'd have drawn it out further but the fool had the good sense to self-induce a heart attack when she was out of the room and could not heal him.
Still, she supposed it mattered not. Her fun was about to come to an end anyway. Her Lord, Maltacken had commanded her presence at the Capital. It seemed the rebels were going to try an ill-advised attack on the throne she and her co-conspirators had worked so hard to put into place nearly twenty years before.
King Raymond was not much of a king... but he was an excellent puppet... One they had invested an extraordinary effort into developing and molding into the tool they needed to bring about their Lord's dark physical resurrection. Now that that resurrection was almost at hand, they could not brook interference from men such as Trevor McGill or the rebel's newly elevated ArchBishop of Vandenburg, DeAndre Papus.
Altana sent the keep's slaves to her chambers to pack for her trip to the capital. While they were scrambling to anticipate and fulfill her every wish; she visited her workroom which served as her private library and laboratory. There were items she kept there that she dare not let others handle.
She viewed herself in a large floor-length mirror she kept in that chamber to practice spells. She was, she had to admit, a beautiful woman... The exact image of her twin sister, Perela... Save for a scar that marred her cheek. Her skills as a Mage could easily remove or hide it but she wore the scar as a badge of honor. She had received it as a parting gift from her father and sister as they tried to extinguish her life.
Yes, Bendon DeArmis had much to answer for. After all, how could a father choose to love only half of his daughter?
She turned her attentions to her desk. She summoned her will and waved her hand over the surface... A faint glow emanated from her fingers and, as if beckoned by the light, a small metal box slowly began to fade into existence in the center of the desk.
Using her other hand she opened the box and removed a dark metal ring with a black opal in the center. She placed the ring on her finger and gasped as exquisite pain flashed through her entire arm. The ring was Maltacken's strongest portal to this world... at least until her son was born.
With the ring she could summon the essence of her lord. Even in such a form he was a force to be reckoned with.
"My Lord," she called out mentally. "I am preparing to travel to the throne room in Pershara...as you instructed. What would you have me do?"
Her hand with the ring burned with a delicious intensity and pain that she found almost organismic. Her body shuddered in anticipation of the sensation. Lessor beings ran from such pain but she had trained herself to embrace it. Maltacken was her lover, her mentor, her father in ways that the mere flesh and blood could never be.
AH... His voice caressed her... I FEEL MY NEW HUSK RIPENING WITHIN YOUR WOMB... YOU HAVE DONE WELL, MY DAUGHTER.
Altana gasped in orgasmic release. Her breath came in ragged gasps. "I live for your glory, my Lord." she managed to get out between moans of agony and ecstasy.
YOU WILL PROCEED TO HOLDEN'S THRONE ROOM IMMEDIATELY... WITHOUT DELAY... I WILL GIVE YOU A GIFT ON YOUR JOURNEY BUT YOU MUST BE IN PERSHARA WITHIN THE HOUR.
"Yes, my Lord" she replied weakly as she collapsed in exhaustion.
On the table before her a shimmering silver bracelet coalesced out of thin air. It was intricately carved with intertwined roses. Altana had no illusions. The thorns on those roses would, at her master’s command, painfully prick her skin. Such was the corruption of her mind that she almost longed for the agony they represented. She was a creature of evil and took pleasure in it.
Summoning her will she sent a mental projection of herself to her servants... "Attend me at once!"
Placing the bracelet on her wrist, she was not surprised when it contracted to fit too snugly to be removed. She knew without testing that even her considerable magics would not remove it without sacrificing the arm.
In scant moments there was the sound of running feet approaching the door to her workroom.
A young girl of perhaps ten or eleven years of age entered the room. By her dress she was a novitiate. "Mistress?"
"Tell my steward to send my bags to the capital... I will be traveling immediately via the portals. The bags had better be waiting in my rooms within the castle by tomorrow evening."
"Yes ma’am." The young girl stammered. The girl well knew that even riding full out for a complete day and night it would be nearly impossible to meet that deadline. Altana knew it as well but such a failure would provide a delightful excuse to add to her pool of dark-kin. She had been denied so much entertainment with the abrupt passing of her priest... Life had a way of balancing out these injustices she mused.
"When you have delivered the message... Please return here, my dear."
"Yes ma’am." The girl repeated. Her face showed signs of obvious relief as the command to return clearly meant she would not be tasked with the impossible journey to Pershara and the resulting punishment that would surely follow.
Altana noted the young girl’s relief and wondered if she would still be feeling the same elation when she learned her life force would be the means by which her mistress traveled to the capital. True, Altana could use the magically inexpensive permanent teleport portal installed in the main hall but that would require walking to the other side of the keep and there was no need... Not when there was a perfectly good mirror in this room and a sacrifice to power it.
***
Proconsul Salvo was a swarthy man of diminutive stature. His five foot frame could easily be taken for that of a child but one look at his maniacal eyes and perennial sneer banished any such thought. He was, in fact, of the Dark Kin. His permanent residence was the Holden Castle in Pershara and a powerful Mage in his own right.
Ostensibly, he served as King Raymond Holden's advisor and governor of the province that shared its name with the capital. In point of fact, Raymond was little more than his puppet. Right now that puppet was giving him fits.
"Damn that traitorous bastard T'Garon!"
"Come now, Raymond," Salvo interjected. "We expected no less than what has happened years ago."
"Expecting something... and actually seeing it happen are two different things." Raymond spat. "I can't even punish his family. They've all conveniently disappeared."
"True, but the man had many friends in the city... Surely if an example needs to be made a few dozen of them will suffice." The swarthy man mused.
The king paused in his ranting and smiled. "Indeed it will..." He was about to say something more when there was a commotion at the door to the chamber they were meeting in.
"My Lord, my Grace." The guard interrupted them..."a Captain T'Nere is here saying he was ordered to report immediately."
"Indeed he was." Commented the proconsul dryly. "Send him in."
T'Nere was as bedraggled as anyone had ever remembered seeing him. His bloodshot eyes darted from one man to the other as if not sure which to fear more.
"Well, captain." Salvo crooned softly. "You made good time... It's a shame you don't take your oaths to your king as seriously."
T'Nere shuddered. "I take all my oaths seriously."
"Does someone want to let your king know what is going
on?" Raymond whined like a spoiled child.
Salvo turned towards Raymond Holden. His disapproving look making clear he did not appreciate being interrupted. "Our young friend here is responsible for decimating the army we sent to Vandenburg."
"Absolutely not true! " A horrified Captain T'Nere screamed. "General T'Garon ordered our forces to split and head towards Grinley."
"And you didn't think it odd that so many troops would be ordered to cover a trade dispute with an insignificant island many leagues from where your king needed you?" The mage continued.
T'Nere looked toward the King as if appealing to him. "I'm loyal to the king! If I receive an order I am duty bound to follow it..."
King Raymond turned to his advisor "There is nothing wrong with a soldier who follows his orders. Better that than betray me. In following his orders this man has preserved for the crown troops that might now be following that traitor T'Garon."
"As you say…”The proconsul replied but it was clear from his expression that he was not convinced.
Sensing his temporary advantage T'Nere pressed his case. "We lost a number of the slower and out of shape men in the dead rush to get here as soon as we learned of the treachery... But the men I have now are the best of the best and they are all loyal to you, my king... How may we serve you?"
Raymond smiled. His current crop of advisors treated him like a dull child. It was refreshing to receive the respect he so richly deserved. He decided such respect would not go unrewarded.
"For starters you can take command of my combined forces... General T'Nere."
The sharp intake of breath from Proconsul Salvo was not lost on either of the other men. T'Nere was all too aware that he had just cemented an adversarial relationship with a very powerful man. He would need to tread very carefully if he were to survive his new promotion. He would need to 'beard the lion in its den.'
"Your will be done, my King." The newly minted general replied. "Might I suggest the Proconsul and I retire to consider the best means of addressing the coming conflict so as to provide you with the best advice possible?"
***
Tep stepped into the murky water lining the bottom of the effuse tunnel beneath Altana's keep. At this point he really didn't care about the smelly liquid he was walking through... He had already crawled hand and foot through an equally foul drainage duct that was too small for any of the others to enter. They had successfully used the teleport portals that the mage Bendon had laid in place months earlier when he had inadvertently been injected into an earlier timeline by the accidental activation of the portal machine Robert and Gawin had been constructing.
Tep knew that some of the others were still struggling with this whole 'multiple timelines' thing, but for him it was simple. A portal was a portal... One moment you were 'here'... the next moment you were 'there'... One moment you were 'now'... the next moment you were 'then'. It all made perfect sense to him.
His goal was to find a way in for Sergeant Tolivier, Gawin and Bendon. There were a series of gates but the number and alertness of the guards was an unknown. Tep was going to find the kitchen's and follow the drudges to see where they came and went. For a small group of men this was often the best means of gaining entrance to the castle proper.
First he needed to change his clothes... The smell that was following him would most certainly draw unwanted attention.
The problem was fortuitously addressed by a chance discovery of a laundry room used by novitiates to iron the robes of whatever religious order called Mortia Keep home. Several gowns where hanging on hooks. Tep picked one that looked big enough for his rapidly expanding frame and quickly divested himself of his ill-used and foul smelling street clothes. Spotting an indoor wash basin he quickly washed his hands and feet.
He noticed the robe had three bands on each arm. He was wondering what that meant and whether he should take the time to find a plainer robe when two young girls quickly entered the room... He immediately turned his back to them so they could not see his face.
"Oh, Mother Superior... We didn't expect you so soon... Your stole is in the other room, can we fetch it for you?"
Not knowing what else to do Tep made a dismissive gesture with the back of his hand. It must have worked because the girls quickly exited the room saying they would be right back. Tep for his part switched to a plainer robe and hastily exited the room with two more robes in tow.
Chapter Nine- A Loop in Time
519 years before present... Arathin (Marlhema)
Stars are beautiful in the night sky, but they shed so little light. They are so unbelievably small; specks of illumination in the eternal darkness surrounding them; the world’s enfolding blanket of night. And night had most definitely fallen. Hard.
Screams tore through the night. Eyes widened in horror in the throne room of the Sada néMariel. Ainara Silsharea knelt beside her father-in-law’s thrown. Her fear-chilled hands clutched one of his. Stories of the horrible deaths caused by their enemy, the searean bre, flowed through her mind. Stories of how they came without warning and left few alive. Worse were the stories of friends and family becoming monsters at sunset. And now the searean, the shadow, had come here.
It had happened far too quickly. It left too many numb. Even with the help of the elf-like Lvessa and the unicorn race of the Ucora, the country of Marlhema was losing. Ainara shut her eyes and tried to remember the times when there were no screams, no horror stories of monsters and death. It was so hard. The memories faded like a distant dream…
Ainara felt as if she was too vulnerable kneeling like this. She needed to get up. As if getting up would make her feel safer... like she could do something against their unseen foe. She stood and made her way to the windows edged in finely tooled silver. And she saw them, heard them. Screams filled the night with terror. Shadows fell about the mountain side palace. They obscured the stars, the glittering water droplets of the great waterfall, even the moon. And the shadows had crazed eyes. Eyes as red as blood and as luminous as flared embers. They came from nowhere; this enemy.
Horror filled her as a shadow swept passed the window. She could just make out its wing thanks to the faint moon light. Ainara whispered its name. Searean bre; shadow bird: A shadow that struck like lightning then vanished just as quickly.
Now they were here…At the palace…Spirits have mercy.
Behind her, people were shifting. Those who were not fighters or healers were to stay in the throne room. She could hear the nobles whispering in fear. Screams could be heard echoing down the halls. The throne doors were open as a quick last retreat for the soldiers outside. Hopefully, those doors would never be shut. Because then, it would mean there was no hope in fighting, only in fleeing. There would be nothing left after that…
Ainara felt a shudder run through the stone floor. Women whimpered. A triumphant shriek rent though the air. Footsteps pounded toward the throne room. Ainara and everyone else looked toward the doors. Armored soldiers and robed wizards raced into the room. The tall Lvessi were bent in exhaustion and pain. Fiery Ucora didn’t prance, they limped into the room. All were wounded, some more than others. Those who could, helped wounded comrades into the room. People rushed forward to help their people in. And to know what was going on. King Plarrean stood before his throne. His face was concerned. Only his eyes showed his fear. Ainara knew what he feared. The Enemy, obviously, but also for his son, her husband. Where was Seith? Was he alive? Ainara turned toward the door. More men were flowing through…but far fewer then she knew had guarded them. How many had fallen?
Where was Sieth? Oh Spirits…where was he? Panic clawed into her stomach and bit into her heart. Fear started to smother her. Her hands played over her swollen stomach. Her child shifted in response to the fear surrounding it. Ainara tried to sooth it, but desperately needed soothing herself.
Was Seith still alive?
“Shut the doors! Shut the damn doors NOW!” Ainara gasped. Sieth raced through the door along with a billow of dust. Men
scurried to obey his command. The doors slammed with a resounding thud that sounded so final. Ainara moved toward him, her eyes scanning over his body. Blood covered his armor and wariness shimmered in his eyes, but other than that he seemed whole.
He had to be whole. She went to him. His eyes settled on her and filled with warmth and regret. He reached for her. She went into his arms, not caring about the blood and he held her. Ainara closed her eyes for a moment. She was finally receiving that soothing she so desperately needed. For a moment the crazy world was no longer there, no longer real. There was only him and her. Too soon he pulled away.
“I’m sorry Ainara, my Hope. We can’t stop them…They use…”Sieth grimaced. He turned to his father.
Plarrean had left the dais. His silver-veined blue eyes framed by long golden hair. The long strands where threaded with gray and lank from stress. In that moment, Ainara realized just how heavy the silver cornet upon his brow must rest on his soul. How the deaths of so many had drained the years from him. His powerful gaze slid from his son, so like himself in appearance and temperament, to her. And down to the unborn child. Fear was in his eyes, pain too. Concern and regret.
“My lord father, they were playing with us. Picking us off.”Anger crept into Seith’s voice.“And they finally let us see who they were.”
“Do we know them?”
“Sheyestiva.”At Seith’s word people gasped, warriors growled. Ainara felt her heart go still. They had been betrayed. She remembered the Sheyestivan delegation. They had seemed so genuine in their desire to become allies, trading partners, friends…
There was a resounding thud on the barred door. As one, all eyes went to it. Clicking could be heard; scratching, hissing, excited clacks. Another thud and everyone was in a panic. Plarrean called for people to take the escape route. Only his advisers and his own family seemed incline to ignore his command. Then he turned to his son and daughter in-law.“Seith, get her out of here.”He commanded.
The Ways of Mages: Two Worlds Page 7
