Numen the Slayer (Magnus Dynasty Saga Book 1)

by Grady P. Brown

  A volatile mixture of emotions welled up inside Numen as he declared, “I am no slave. I never was. I am Numen of House Magnus, wielder of Gramfyre and the rightful Emperor of Gradaia! I bow to no one!”

  With a series of complex bladework, Numen slashed across Raza’s other knee, forcing him to kneel. Then Numen maimed Raza’s right hand at the wrist, causing his kris sword to fly into the air. Numen caught the kris sword in midair and positioned both it and Gramfyre in a scissor formation across Raza’s throat.

  In disbelief, Raza pleaded, “Please don’t kill me. I was wrong about all of this. Please don’t kill me.”

  Glaring into Raza’s eyes, Numen countered, “Did it ever occur to you that slavery is illegal in the Gradaia Empire? If I am to be Emperor someday, I must have the strength to make an example of criminals like you. Therefore, as the rightful Emperor of Gradaia, I sentence you to death for the crimes of slavery, abduction, corruption, and murder. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried out?”

  Raza did not answer. Instead he was weeping so profusely that mucus was spilling from his nose. At first, a part of Numen wanted to spare Raza out of pity, but the rest of him hardened at the sight of him. With his resolve solidified, Numen chopped off Raza’s head with his two swords. Raza’s head rolled to the edge of the balcony while the rest of his body was collapsed limply. After initially being disgusted with what he had done, Numen felt an empowering sense of accomplishment as he looked down on Raza’s corpse.

  Softly, Numen murmured, “Umbran is free of you.”

  Suddenly, Numen heard someone moving behind the chairs on the balcony. Thinking that he was under attack, Numen turned to the source of the noise with swords raised. Numen was surprised to find Wil looking over a chair.

  Confused, Numen lowered his swords and asked, “What are you doing here, Wil?”

  Slowly emerging from his hiding place, Wil replied, “Raza brought me here to count his winnings. I have never seen such swordplay before. Raza has fought many opponents who questioned his authority, but you are the first to actually win against him. Is it true what you said? That you are the rightful Emperor of Gradaia?”

  Pausing for a moment, Numen held up Gramfyre and explained, “Wonder why Raza never let anyone touch this sword? This sword can only be held by someone with Imperial blood in their veins. The fact that I am holding it in my hand proves my legitimacy.”

  Glancing at Gramfyre with astonishment, Wil asked, “So that is the Imperial Sword of Power? I thought it was just a myth the previous dynasty used to amaze the populace.”

  Shaking his head, Numen affirmed, “No. My family kept it hidden under our castle for the last three hundred years. Ever since Magnus Keep was burned down, this sword has gotten me out of many sticky situations. I don’t even know if I am using its full power.”

  Looking at Numen with awe, Wil asked, “With your kind permission, can I make a request?”

  Shrugging, Numen replied, “Of course.”

  To Numen’s surprise, Wil approached him and kneeled deeply before him. Numen was surprised by the gesture. No one had ever kneeled before him before in his life. It was an experience Numen did not know how to process.

  With his eyes facing the ground, Wil pleaded, “If you are the true Emperor, I ask that you take me as your scribe and chronicler. I will tell your tale for all the world to hear. You freed me and every captive here from the shackles of slavery. Please let me repay that debt by serving you until the end of my days.”

  Overwhelmed by Wil’s display of fealty, Numen did not know how to answer Wil’s request. When he lived in Magnus Keep, all of the servants swore oaths of fealty to his father, but not to him. He never earned the loyalty of someone on his own.

  Swallowing hard, Numen finally declared, “Wil Famul, by the power of my blood and the authority of the Gods, I accept your services. Rise and be acknowledged.”

  Slowly, Wil got back on his feet and waited for Numen’s instructions. Numen had no experience in giving orders to his own followers. He always made requests from his family’s servants, but he never gave them any real orders.

  Not knowing what else to do, Numen said, “Let’s see how the others are doing.”

  Nodding with acknowledgement, Wil followed Numen to the edge of the balcony where they saw the outcome of the skirmish. The wolves and ravens Naera summoned were feasting on the dead while Hondo, Naera, and at least one fifty freed slaves stood victorious. The ruined fortress was littered with corpses and the soil was stained by blood. Despite the carnage, Numen felt a sense of great satisfaction from what he saw. Naera was alive, the slavers were exterminated, and they were all free. It was the outcome Numen hoped for. Upon seeing Numen and Wil, the former slaves looked up at him as though waiting for him to say something.

  Hesitating briefly, Numen raised both of his swords and declared, “Raza Hornbane and his minions are dead! From now on, your lives are now your own!”

  Holding their weapons over their heads, Numen’s companions cheered with triumph and repeatedly chanted, “Red Phoenix!”

  In response, Numen roared as he basked in his newfound freedom . . .

  __ __ __

  By nightfall, Numen and his new fellowship of companions had finished their business in the ruined fortress. On Numen’s order, they removed the heads of all the dead slavers and gentry and planted them on spikes along what remained of the castle’s battlements. The rest of the corpses they left for the forest scavengers to feed on.

  The former slaves were very enthusiastic with their newfound freedom as they searched the ruined fortress for valuables and further desecrated the bodies of the slavers. Hondo was nurturing Naera, who was shivering as though she had caught a cold. Numen worried about Naera. While he was overjoyed to see her alive, Numen wondered what price she paid to resurrect herself and summon the army of wolves and ravens.

  While raiding the castle, Numen came across Hondo, who was carrying two grisly items. One item was Raza’s kris sword strapped across his back and the other item was concealed in a blood-soaked bag on Hondo’s belt.

  Confused, Numen asked, “What are you doing with Raza’s blade? What is in that sack?”

  Hondo smiled as he affectionately patted the bag and cheerfully replied, “Raza’s head is in the bag. It is a tradition for Welts to claim the heads and weapons of their fallen enemies as trophies. I am keeping your trophies safe until we can properly preserve them.”

  Finding it hard to swallow, Numen said, “All right. Carry on.”

  After those words, Hondo continued on his way, humming as he went. Within several hours, they rounded up all of the food, armor, weapons, and gold in the castle. Afterwards, they took the horses from the stable and loaded up their spoils. When they were done with their preparations, Numen gathered the company.

  In a no nonsense tone, Numen explained, “That’s everything the slavers had on them. According to Wil, you have enough food to last all of you for six months and enough gold to start your own town. You also have enough armor and weapons to keep you protected from more slavers, wild beasts, or even the king’s army. Hondo, Naera, Wil, and I will go to Foxden Castle while you go wherever you wish.”

  Instead of accepting Numen’s instructions, twelve of the freed slaves stood their ground.

  Confused, Numen asked, “I said you can leave. Why do you stay?”

  Clovis stepped forward and explained, “You freed us and we want to repay our debt to you by following you wherever you go. Personally, I am going to follow you until I can beat you in single combat. That is the debt I want to repay.”

  Overwhelmed by what was happening, Numen struggled to process his emotions as he looked at the crowd of faces staring at him with hopeful eyes. First the Welts, then Wil, and now freed slaves. It was as though Numen was unintentionally attracting everyone around him like moths to a light. Even though he was raised to be a baron, Numen never had any personal leadership experience. However, due to the circumstances he was in, Num
en knew that he had no choice but to lead these people to safety.

  Nodding slightly, Numen reluctantly said, “As you wish.”

  Within a matter of hours, most of the freed slaves left the ruined fortress with their share of the gold and provisions. Numen and his small group of companions stared into the horizon as they basked at their liberation. It was a blissful moment that felt like something out of a dream.

  Helping Naera rise to her feet, Hondo turned to Numen and asked, “Where will we go now, Numen?”

  Upon hearing Hondo’s question, Numen grimly asked, “That’s what I want to know. I don’t recognize anything here. I don’t know if we are close to Welt territory, the Civil Folk, or elsewhere. Where are we?”

  Everyone looked around as though looking for something familiar. To their horror, they realized they were lost . . .

  CHAPTER 25

  Autem sat silently in his seat as he observed his Privy Council, which consisted of ten people. Eight of the individuals were representatives from each of the Petty Kingdoms that made up the Gradaia Empire. The remaining two were Autem’s Lord Chancellor, Peter Muur, and Autem himself. The chamber they were in was a large dome with a circular table in the center, which was where they all sat. Torches hung from the walls and illuminated the otherwise dim room.

  After releasing a deep sigh, Autem announced, “So what news do you bring your Emperor?”

  Peter replied, “Your Imperial Majesty, the Council has some troubling updates regarding the Empire’s affairs.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Autem intently asked, “Such as . . . ?”

  Baron Gaven Osric, a fat balding man from Raevor, explained, “The unrest in Umbran is spreading rumors of a possible Umbran invasion should the rebels win against House Baal. These rumors have spread riots through the farmlands and villages, which inhibits our ability to acquire taxes and surplus crops. My king is awaiting instructions on how to settle this matter.”

  Rolling his eyes, Autem ordered, “If King Faan so incompetent that he cannot keep his own kingdom under control then why should we help him? Send a messenger pigeon to him and tell him to muster his troops and institute martial law until order is restored.”

  Baron Louis Vanir, a man with a curly mustache and beard who represented the kingdom of Valai, asked, “Your Imperial Majesty, are you sure we cannot send Imperial Knights to aide King Faan?”

  Scowling, Autem interjected, “You all know that every king is responsible for their own kingdom. Their thrones have been passed from one usurper after another for centuries. As long as the new dynasties swear fealty to the Imperial Throne they are not a threat to us. I will only send in Imperial Knights if the usurpers refuse to yield to Imperial rule. Until then, King Faan is on his own. If he cannot maintain order in his own lands by himself then I will give his kingdom to someone else. Someone who will not fail me so miserably. He has six months to quell the riots or he will be replaced. Understood?” When the Privy Council remained silent, Autem continued, “What is the status on the Imperial economy?”

  Baron Bjorn Orik, a pale man wearing expensive silk and a decorative livery collar, answered, “In the three centuries House Sylva ruled as the Imperial Dynasty, we have exhausted over a third of the remaining gold mines in Gaena. House Sylva’s former home of Waes is still as wealthy as ever with silver, copper, and gems. Your former stewards and current royal family of Waes, House Baen, are still as competent and loyal as ever. Varland is producing the best iron and steel in the Empire so our forces are still well equipped.

  Apart from occasional skirmishes with pirates, the coastal kingdom of Aemarr remains a bustling trading outpost and has grown rich with all the best fish, grain, and trade the Empire has to offer. With winter more than four months away, Valai is still providing all of the surplus food we will need to last until spring. Due to it being a heavily forested kingdom, Storruk supplies all of the lumber the Empire’s citizens need for construction. Finally, Darrm’s fields and savannahs are producing exotic crops, silks, and textiles as well as the best wine in the Empire.

  Our treasury is full with enough gold to last the Empire five wars and there is economic stability throughout the Empire. However, this could change if the unrest in Umbran and Raevor spreads to their neighbors.”

  After thinking for a while, Autem declared, “Umbran is a natural fortress. It has frozen mountains and tundra in the north, forests in the east, and marshlands in the south and west. We cannot sail a fleet to invade Umbran in the north nor can we send armies through the forests and swamps. The only way in or out of Umbran is a single road that leads through the marshlands.

  Winter will be arriving in a few months. When that happens, the snow will be so deep that we will not be able to march any kind of support to House Baal even if we want to. Like House Faan, House Baal is on its own to maintain order in their own kingdom. For now, all we can do is quell any dissent Umbran’s unrest will generate. However, we do so without interfering too much in each kingdom’s independence as dictated by the first Emperor Galen the Bull. We will not mobilize the Imperial Army unless absolutely necessary. Can I count on all of you?”

  The Privy Council nodded in unison and replied, “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

  Smiling, Autem ordered, “Excellent. You are dismissed.”

  As if on que, the Privy Council promptly rose from their seats and left the chamber. The only exception was Peter Muur, who stayed seated next to Autem.

  Groaning with irritation, Autem asked, “Why are you still here, Muur?”

  Displaying his trademark sneer, Peter answered, “Are you sure it is wise to leave Raevor to its own devices? What if there is total anarchy if House Faan fails to maintain order?”

  Brushing off Peter’s concerns, Autem said, “Then we send in the Imperial Army to crush the rebels and replace House Faan with a more competent House.”

  Nodding with approval, Peter said, “Your Imperial Majesty is most wise indeed. So we send no aide to Umbran?”

  Staring blankly across the room, Autem said, “Yes. We will pick up the pieces of the aftermath when spring comes. Until then, Umbran will be inaccessible and whatever happens in the north happens.”

  “What if a rebellion breaks out that cannot be squashed by a few thousand Imperial soldiers? What then?”

  Still in deep contemplation, Autem asked, “Do you know the history of the Imperial Palace?”

  Caught off guard by the question, Muur replied, “Aye. This place has quite a colorful and extensive history. Legend claims that the Palace’s original owners, House Garrn, claimed this mountain upon discovering its limitless mineral deposits, which made them the wealthiest family in all of Gradaia. Once the mountain was picked clean of its riches, House Garrn hollowed it out into a fortress worthy of their status. The chambers, storerooms, and dungeons were carved into the interior while the towers, gates, and battlements were carved into the exterior. Utilizing their immense wealth, House Garrn constructed the city of Chrysos around their mountain stronghold and declared themselves the first kings of Gaena.

  However, all of that changed when Galen the Bull led a rebellion that ultimately resulted in the usurpation of House Garrn. Because the palace’s walls were impregnable, Galen and ten thousand men used secret passageways to infiltrate the fortress and seize control of it. With Gaena and all its wealth under his control, Galen the Bull began his conquest of all of Gradaia. This began the Gradaia Empire.

  A thousand years later, the Dark Death breaks out and wipes out half the Empire’s population. Rebellions and revolts broke out everywhere and House Sylva took advantage of the ensuing chaos and overthrew Caelum II. Your family, House Sylva, ruled the Gradaia Empire ever since.”

  Turning his gaze back on Peter, Autem asked, “Do you know the moral of that story?” When Peter did not answer, Autem continued, “This Palace and everything that comes with it has traded hands many times through rebellions. That will not happen to my dynasty. House Sylva is here to stay. If an uprising breaks out
that cannot be handled by a few thousand Imperial soldiers, I will send everything we have to break the rebels so badly they will never rise again. Do you understand?”

  Swallowing hard, Peter whispered, “Perfectly, Your Imperial Majesty.”

  Displaying a false smile, Autem said, “Excellent. Now, have you found a scapegoat for my brother and nephews’ murders? The populace is getting restless and demanding Imperial justice.”

  “My spies have selected the town of Barrow’s Marsh. It already has a reputation for animosity towards Sylva rule.”

  “Good. Assemble two thousand armored knights and send me my squire. We march for Barrow’s Marsh at once.”

  “As you wish, Sire.”

  After that exchange, Autem and Peter rose from their seats and quietly left the chamber . . .

  CHAPTER 26

  Two days later . . .

  Autem rode with his knights as they charged towards Barrow’s Marsh. He was dressed in intricately crafted gold, plate armor with a red cape emblazoned with the rampant gilded griffin of House Sylva. Autem’s helm was also made of gold with his crown fastened on top and a faceplate resembling a human face. Strapped to Autem’s left arm was a kite-shaped shield with the Sylva griffin on it. In Autem’s right hand was Gryphclaw, whose Aetherian Steel blade shone as bright as daylight.

  Beside Autem were heavily armored knights on sturdy war horses. Their armor and kite shields were painted red and gold. The weapons they carried ranged from swords, spears, and axes. In addition, Autem’s knights carried torches that were ablaze with furious flames.

  The town before them was of average size with a population of around ten thousand. However, Autem was relieved when Muur’s spies reported that only a third of Barrow Marsh’s citizens were warriors. What pleased Autem more was that the so-called warriors who dwelled in Barrow’s Marsh were poorly disciplined with no armor or proper weapons. All Autem had to do was wipe out the population and burn the town. Then the populace’s cries for justice would be answered for the deaths of Autem’s brother and nephews.