TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga)
Page 23
He led the captain into the cave that descended sharply. It got progressively hotter as they went deeper. Damian Doome put his reptilian-like hand on the Captain to guide him. The path started to widen and level off. A bright light appeared at the end of the long walk way. As he got closer the ceiling and path expanded until they formed an enormous sub-terrain room.
There were huge pens filled with naked human beings. The demons threw bloody pieces of food in occasionally and the humans fought like wild animals for the dripping scraps. They were all terribly skinny and their bones clung tightly to their skin.
“What do you think of your mighty humans now? They don’t look very civilized, do they? These are our breeding humans. We need to maintain a steady supply of decoys, if you will. I am certain you know that coldomores can take over a human body, but know this, no human has ever taken over a coldomore body. So we breed humans to serve as receptacles when we need to send our coldomores out among you heathens. You humans are not very receptive to coldomores, I have found. Let’s move on,” he stated with a wave to show the way to the Captain.
As they walked farther into the depths of the cave, demonic creatures appeared everywhere. There were more huge openings that housed demons of different colors and sizes. Green, black, red, orange, purple and yellow were the major colors of these demons. They all looked like Damian Doome in size and form. Like a cross between a human being and a fox. They walked on two feet, but their bodies were grotesquely skinny and awkward when they moved. There were thousands of them and the farther they went in, the more the Captain realized there had to be hundreds of thousands that just kept coming out of different offshoots of the cave.
“We have been breeding our own men too,” said Damian Doome, “We are ready for this battle. But if any doubt still persists, I have one more chamber to show you in our mines.”
Captain Wallace saw a giant doorway at what appeared to be the end of their path. Damian Doome stopped and held his hands in front of himself. The huge door started to creak as it slowly opened and Damian lowered his hands. It was even hotter than the already scorching heat outside as the two entered. This enormous chamber had about fifty dragons in it. The Captain saw that they were chained up on either side of the room as Damian walked him through the middle of the room.
There were black, red and purple dragons scattered throughout the quarters. Some were small and others as big as the black one that had greeted the Captain outside. The black and red dragons had wings while the purple ones had longer front arms. They all had the classic look of a dragon with a long neck, scaly body and slithery tail. And judging by the intense heat in the room, they could all breathe fire.
“Now you see that I have the man- and dragon-power to win. I know what I want you to do for me. Let us return to the outside,” Damian said.
As they left the cave, the Captain again saw hordes of demons and pens full of humans, while images of the dragons seemed to be branded into his mind. His head swirled as they got out of the underground lair.
“I am sending you to spread the word of Damian Doome. Let everyone know that I am not prepared for a battle,” he told the Captain.
“But how will I get anywhere, that dragon burned down my ship,” Captain Wallace returned.
Damian Doome screamed up to the sky in the unknown tongue. Within seconds, the black dragon that had eaten his crew-mates landed a few feet from Damian. The dragon talked to Damian in this foreign tongue. The dragon talked! Captain Wallace had heard of dragons, but not talking dragons.
Damian told the Captain, “My friend, Brute, has agreed to drop you off in the Pearl Islands where you can spread the word of Damian Doome and the coldomores. You will tell everyone that we are not prepared to fight and will not be ready for hundreds of years. I will make sure that you will not betray me. You will have to hold onto the scales on the back of his neck and hold on tight. Brute will not have any second thoughts about tossing you off while he floats amongst the clouds.”
Suddenly, Captain Wallace felt great pain surge through his body. He was having sensations he never had before and his whole body suddenly went numb. The Captain tried to fight against this bodily invader, but his resistance was futile.
“Good work, Ephesi. Now, let him have control of his thoughts and feelings until you arrive. Then make sure that the message he conveys is only of our weakness. The cause thanks you for this sacrifice,” Damian said.
The demon-infested Captain climbed up the side of the dragon, using its leg to help prop himself up onto its back. The scales were bigger than his hands and sturdier than metal. He gripped a couple to pull himself up and now sat on the back of a real dragon. He moved up to the dragon’s neck and grabbed on for dear life. Damian said something to the dragon and Brute flapped his wings. Before the Captain could gain the courage to look down he made sure he had a firm hold. He was hundreds of feet above the ground, gliding through the night air, and all he could see was the moonlit Sea of Green sparkling. A quick peak behind showed that Venom Island had already disappeared. He didn’t remember where the dragon planned to take him but Captain Wallace was flying. He had never experienced a greater thrill in all of his days.
The Pearl of Wisdom Saga, Volume Two
Fractured Families
Prologue
“I heard that your mother died while birthing you,” the drunken man said.
“No, no, no. You aint tellin’ it right. They said my mother was dead before I was born,” angrily replied an even drunker man at the table.
He had blond hair and blue eyes. There was a wide scar on his chin that looked crudely sutured and his dark complexion made the white wound stand out in stark contrast. The man was talking with three friends at a square table in the middle of a tavern. A pitcher of ale sat in the middle of the table as the men gulped down the suds.
The blond man continued, “My father must’ve been rather upset with my pregnant mother and cut her throat. Some time later the man found me, detached the cord from my mother, and took me to Blairs Beak, the island right off the northern coast of Waters Edge. Maybe I’ll just tell a quick story…”
Even though Benroy, Tucker and Mattrick were probably his closest allies, they still didn’t know the full story of The Man with the Golden Sword. No one knew his real name and he was more simply known as The Man. He drank all the time and although he wasn’t often drunk, he slurred his words on this night. It must have loosened his lips too, as he scarcely ever talked about himself.
He went on, “The man turned out to be a thief who taught me the craft of thievery and to worship Travibero and the demons. He felt smited by the Gods and he cursed ‘em on a daily basis. He reminded me of my birthday, the first day of summer, every night around bedtime. It was just before he would beat the livin’ hells out of me. The man was stabbed and died while tryin’ to pick-pocket the wrong fellow. He may have bled black for all I know.
It forced me to live on the streets and beg for everything at just six years old. When I turned seven I tried to see a sorceress. I had to beg or barter payment to know if my future would be as rotten as my life had been on the streets. The sorceress took pity on me and used her crystal ball to see my future.”
The Man stopped for a second as he refilled his mug as well as everyone else’s at the table.
His friends listened intently as he continued, “She saw a crown in her ball. She said she could clearly see a man in his thirtieth year that set out to conquer a kingdom. She saw a man with blond hair and blue eyes. That crushed me at the time because I had brown hair and gray eyes. The colors changed when I was in my teens. My curiosity had been aroused and I tried to see more fortune tellers. I went to six more of them and they all took pity on me, like the first sorceress. Those six women all saw the exact same images and finished with the same statement, ‘Carry a golden sword and the world shall kneel before you.’ Soon after that a woman saw me on the street and took me to work at her inn. She put me to work at every job ‘cept cook.”
“One day a knight came to the inn with a real pissy attitude. He said his squire couldn’t do anything correct. After seeing me hustle around the inn, he made a deal with the innkeeper to purchase me. That man happened to be Sir Constador Clybo of Elmsrapt. He taught me to fight and read maps, battle plans and strategies. I felt that he had been sent there to prepare me for my prophesy. Sir Constador transformed me from a ten year old without any skill, into a cold-blooded warrior.
He tested me in several district battles and at fifteen I was bigger than most grown men. I met a girl and we fell madly for each other. Life was starting to brighten up for me. Tarasoni Alber will always be my first and only love. Unfortunately, our love was not to last.
I arrived back at the castle one day to find my lover in tears, telling me to run. The guards arrested me on the spot and I stood accused of murder. Mind you, I had killed seven men in the district fights, but I didn’t kill the squire. Everyone knew me to carry a golden sword blade and have a rough past, so it was easy to make me the fall guy. A young Lord of the castle got angry with his squire and killed him. Then he pinned the whole thing on me and everyone believed him, of course. The High Lord said a man of my size would be a great offering for the King to use in the duels,” The Man said as he took another sip of his ale.
“I can’t believe you won seven duels,” said Tucker.
“Eight,” replied The Man.
“I think our friend may have had a little too much to drink,” Benroy jokingly said.
Out of nowhere, a man seemed to materialize behind The Man. He said, “This man is not your friend. He is your future King.”
The new man was short and skinny. He had a closely shaved head and bright-green eyes. He wore a torn shirt and ill-fitting britches that hung half-way up his calf. He looked to be about fifty years old, but no one actually knew his age.
He spoke again, “He could be dead right now. I could have easily killed him. And if I could have done it, another man could as well. You men would have been helpless. Are we not drunk enough yet?”
The shoeless man, known as the Crippler, had an air of intrigue to him as well. He had been rumored to have crippled men just by staring at them. Nobody had actually seen the Crippler do it, but no one wanted to test the magical man either. Most people thought that he was a Wizard that used demonic spirits, which some argued were more powerful than angelic ones. For the past few years, he had hovered around The Man, always whispering in his ear.
He never drank so he spoke clearly to the men, “You can continue your story, quietly. I could hear you half-way across the bloody room.”
The Crippler knew that the story would only make the men rally around The Man even more.
The Man with the Golden Sword said, “It is true. I am drunk. But I certainly remember how many duels I won.”
“But people say you only have to win seven duels,” Mattrick asked and said at the same time.
“The guards forgot about my first win.”
The Man slammed two open hands on the table. On seven fingers, right below the nails, he had a black X.
“They didn’t brand me after my first win and believe it or not, nobody would believe me. The King was actually there that day. He always walked through the jails to look at the criminals almost every day. Some people said he did it to feel superior over the caged-up men. But when they asked the King if he had remembered me winning a duel, he looked right at me. I saw fear. It stained his clothes and he stunk of it. He looked terrified as he stood surrounded by four armed guards even though all the criminals were locked in pens. The King asked his men what my charges were. When they responded that it was murder, he said, ‘Let the bastard murderer fight again, even if he says he already has fought.’ Our big, tough King looked at me and walked away. I have been dreaming of a day when I can meet him again. I want to see the look of horror on his face when there isn’t a cage to hold me back. I’ll take his head and spike it on the highest tower of the castle.” A huge smile came across The Man’s face. “I cannot wait for that day. The King with the Golden Sword. It has a nice sound to it, don’t you think?”
The Man sat back and chugged the rest of his ale. He wiped the foamy suds from his mouth and continued to his captivated audience.
“You see, the first two duels were easy. They put me up against a couple of scrawny pickpockets. The next two, uh, not so much. I won, but I sustained injuries that didn’t have enough time to heal. You fight every seventh day after you arrive, so the winners are there for forty-nine days. I guess some can be there for fifty-six, if they miscount…”
Tucker cut in, “Way better than bein’ there for only seven.”
“So true, my friend,” The Man replied as he told his story, “The last three men all won three duels before I had to face them. I cannot remember the details of those fights, it was a blur. But I still remember all the crimes charged against my opponents. Stealing, stealing, adultery, rape, rape, murder, murder, murder.” He counted them off on his fingers as he recalled the charges.
“It was in that order too. The crimes seemed to be greater, the further a fighter advanced. Is it mad to say that I somewhat miss it? When thousands of people stand and cheer after you end a man’s life, well, there are few better feelings in life. I still remember the rabid crowd, begging for blood. The nobility of Fox Chapel acted like animals, and we were the ones penned up. They were like dogs waiting to be fed. And once you fed them a dead body, they loved you.”
He paused to wipe some sweat from his forehead.
He took another sip and went on, “It’s ironic.” He turned and winked to the Crippler. “I went to the Capitol falsely accused of one murder. And the only way to eradicate it was for me to murder eight more men.”
He turned and looked at the Crippler, “Did I use that right? Eradicate?”
“Perfectly done. Good job,” he answered.
“Well, I apparently had put on a great show at the Yard for the crowd. I can recall them hailing me as I was being led away in ball and chains, off to fight as a soldier to defend Donegal.”
“That’s when you met me,” said Benroy.
“Indeed it was. Most people, they know the story from there,” The Man said.
Benroy spoke, “About how you killed more Goldenfield men than any Donegal soldier during your service.”
The Man said, “And I didn’t do it for Donegal, or King Ali-Stanley, I can tell you that much. They had falsely accused me, forced me to fight in the duels, and then they asked me to defend the kingdom. Kind of an odd sequence, I thought. No, I did it because I like killing. It’s the closest you can get to being a God. I chose when those men’s lives ended, even if it was backed by the Gods. Now that I have a large army behind me, I will be able to decide many more men’s fates. THAT is power. THAT is what drives men. THAT is what will take us to the throne.”
“Four thousand men is not exactly a large army,” said Mattrick.
“No, it aint. But eight thousand is,” The Man said with a smirk.
The last statement was extremely difficult for The Man to make with his current slurred speech. He reached down and rubbed the pommel of his sword. The hilt was almost pure gold mixed with a few base metals to fortify it. The blade was made of ice-hardened steel and painted gold everywhere except the razor-sharp edge. The Man claimed that his sword was so sharp that it could shave a lady bug’s legs. At eighteen, he had taken the sword off a dead captain from Goldenfield and molded it over the years. The Crippler put a magical blessing on the sword five years ago.
The Crippler had somewhat taken The Man unde
r his wing. He convinced The Man to chase his destiny to sit the throne. The Crippler saw things in The Man that he didn’t even see in himself. He tried to clean up some of his bad habits and rough edges. But try as he might, he wasn’t able to fully reform The Man who still enjoyed getting really drunk on occasion and regularly visiting whore-houses. He liked fulfilling his base and primal needs without developing emotional attachment. He knew that if you had nothing that you loved, no one could hold any leverage against you. The Crippler also made him read a lot more, especially old battle records and tried to clean up his rugged talk. That was a work in progress. The Man seemed to mix the old rough talk with the new things the Crippler was teaching him. He tried to prepare him to be a king.
“Where are the other four thousand men?” Benroy asked.
The Man quickly responded, “They are on their way from the Goldenfield border and should be arriving any time now. The King called all the men from Goldenfield to help with his attack on Mattingly. They split the men up into two divisions of four thousand. Well, one division is on the way to the Capitol and the other is on the way here. Gold and silver can greatly sway a man’s decisions.”
“So what is the plan after they get here, and how can you afford to pay for them?” Benroy wondered.
The Man pulled up his sleeve to expose a tattoo on his forearm. It was a black triangle with many random dots on the inside. He also revealed about twenty slash-scars all over his arm.
“Do any of you recognize this?” he asked.
All of the men agreed that they did not. The Crippler just smiled slightly.
“Really? It is worth over three hundred thousand gold rounds. It is a treasure map of sorts. It tells me where all that gold is buried. As I said, the thief did teach me how to steal before his demise. Well, ever since my service ended and I became a free man, I have been acquirin’ gold,” he turned to the Crippler again, “Is that right?”