She saw beyond the lie, her mind strong,
She led her crew to right the wrong,
The battle grew quick, but was not long,
The creature was trapped and called out in song.
A monster burst from the depths of dark,
The length of a ship, the heart of a shark,
It devoured all things, bringing life’s end,
Till Captain Redblood, the Gods did send.
A harpoon ended the Troöd’s horrid call,
Screaming, into the water it did fall,
Replaced by something feared by all,
Teeth the size of daggers, meant to maul.
Magic and metal brought fore to fend,
Against the beast who spelled our end,
The ship shattered, the mast did bend,
To its death, Captain Redblood did send.
A monster burst from the depths of dark,
The length of a ship, the heart of a shark,
It devoured all things, bringing life’s end,
Till Captain Redblood, the Gods did send.
Cite stepped down to a quiet room and returned to the table. Before he had reached it, a drunk roared his approval and others took up the cheer. Before the night was through, he was called upon to sing it many more times. Others came in from the street to hear it as word spread, and even other minstrels came to learn the new tale.
Rogen returned sometime later. Many of the patrons slapped him on the back, only to get a stern look in return. He had three mugs of ale handed to him before he even reached the table.
“What are they going on about?” He looked at the mugs in front of him with suspicion. The other four passed a look between themselves, unsure who should explain the night’s events. Dawn decided that she should be the one.
“Gruedo announced who killed the beast when she heard Cite could play the lute I just bought him. So the people decided they wanted to hear the bard sing the tale.”
Rogen eyed Cite. “So why are they so excited to see me?”
“Gruedo also decided to give all of our credentials. She has been quite popular this evening.” Dawn sighed. Rogen looked across the room at the bar where Gruedo sat surrounded by people.
“I think it is perhaps time we retired for the evening,” Rogen suggested. No one disagreed.
Chapter 16: Gathering Storm
“To seek shelter when there is lightning shows wisdom, unless you live in a storm cloud.”
Ancient Proverb of Chanian
5854 – Ault – Kornon – Ginof
Rondarius sat in the covered litter, carried on the shoulders of four of his most mobile corpses. They were on a hill overlooking a town. The clouds had gathered and the wind was picking up. He knew he would get wet; he always got wet when things got exciting. He decided it was because the Gods were crying about their people being slaughtered. He had nice clothes now, warm and fancy clothes. They didn’t fit him well, but he loved them anyway and they would keep him dry. The walking dead brought them when they came, all dressed in fine bedclothes and formal foppery.
After his spell to raise the deceased, they began to arrive. At first just a few showed up each day, though soon legions upon legions of lumbering, rotting, and fetid hordes of living dead arrived at his door. At first, he didn’t know how he would feed them all. Soon he realized that they didn’t eat. Well, they didn’t eat like normal people did. In fact, they ate only normal people. They did not seek them out though, but if a salesman happened to stop by the dilapidated old tower Rondarius lived in, one could bet that the knight of the road would become a snack, much to his own surprise. The Necromancer giggled as he imagined some man with a cart full of goods knocking on his door, only to have it opened by a seven-foot tall pale shape in clothes that were much too small for it. He pictured the terrified man turning to run and being overcome by the groping masses of zombies. Then Rondarius could have the whole cart and never have to pay for anything.
Tonight would be like that, but for a whole town instead of just one man. Thousands of people would feel that terror in the dark. It was a moonless night and the equinox. Rondarius snickered again as he poked one of the chair-laden zombies in the back of the head with a stick. He snatched the brown-shelled cockroach that crawled out of the hole he had created and played with it, letting it run from one hand to another. He looked over the town as the insect sought an escape. His legion had surrounded the town soon after dark, each animated corpse responding to the slightest mental suggestion from him. He could see each of them when he closed his eyes, like points of purple light in the night sky of his mind. This town was doomed. He would send his unwieldy army into the town and direct it to devour every living being. Fueling their hatred, he would make this place his new home by destroying its current residents, then adding them to his army as he had done with every other village and town he had visited.
The equinox was a time of change. There would be change, more than anyone could imagine. Autumn was here and it was a time for things to die, time for the healthy to wither, time to wipe away the old. Cold times were coming and Rondarius would be leading that tide of winter by making the autumn his.
Just thinking the instructions was not dramatic enough; Rondarius stood in his litter, and it rocked dangerously as he swore at the bearers. He commanded his host of dead to begin its quest with a grand wave of his arms. Disorganized hordes of the monsters lurched into the town. He bounced up and down in his chair, the zombies underneath struggling to keep it upright. He screamed in glee and shrieked in delight as his servants burst into homes, inns, and other buildings, dragged people into the street, pummeled and bit them. His force numbered less than a thousand and the townsfolk probably outnumbered them by four to one, but it didn’t matter. The walking dead radiated something that made normal, sane people terrified. It was just something so wrong and unnatural that it muddled their minds a little bit, sapping their sanity and scarring their souls. Rondarius was not affected though. He had all his mental resources under control.
He cackled and clapped; crushing the roach he had been playing with, as a dozen of his soldiers of the sod dragged a whole family from their home. He watched in an almost sexual excitement as they tore the youngest to pieces, the father trying to reach the child. The mother screamed and tried to flee, only to be brought down by three of the creatures. Soon her screams died, as did she. The man of the house stood within a circle of corpses of his parents, his seven children, and his wife, a shovel in his hands. He took unbalanced, wild swings, decapitating one of Rondarius’s favorite zombies. It was then that the Necromancer felt something new, a presence from one of the newly killed corpses that littered the ground. The woman, she had the spark. Rondarius focused on that, and fanned that spark into the flame of unlife.
She rose from the dusty street as the first spatters of rain began to fall. Rondarius commanded his other creatures away from the woman’s still living husband and sent her forward into the circle. When the man saw her, he cried out in relief and opened his arms to her. She ran to his open arms and Rondarius could almost smell the man’s joy turn to terror even from the distance he was, as she ripped into his exposed throat. She finished her task quickly and expertly then dodged into the crowd of terrified villagers. She moved faster and he could feel her mind was sharper and clearer than the other undead.
The death mage sat back and thought about this new development as his monsters did their grisly task. He sent his awareness out over the village again and again that night, searching for that spark. When the night was done and the attack over, he had found four others with that same spark. Each had taken his offered magic and risen back up under his command, quicker, stronger and more efficient than their older siblings of the silt.
Later, as he sat in his litter in the city hall, surrounded by corpses that stared up at him with empty eye sockets full of adoration and mud, he called these new additions to him. They moved like hunting cats. They slid and writhed their way forward, their
heads whipping to the side with snake-like speed to watch any movement. He could see that their teeth had chipped on the bones they had gnawed and were now pointed. He had created a new breed of undead. One of stealth and skill that were born, or rather killed, predators.
He sent them into the night to hunt down any people that may have escaped. The necromancer commanded them to search the barns, basements, and buildings and destroy any living creature they found. He began to laugh. The laughter would not stop; it rolled from him until he could not breathe. The bony dog under his chair stopped chewing on the meaty thigh it had stolen and looked up at him. When he finally did stop, gasping and holding his sides, he looked down from his elevated seat.
“Set me down carefully, Vicktor,” he said to his lead zombie. The four holding the poles that his chair rested on lowered it to the floor. “Very good, now go and find me all valuables. Gold, jewels, art, fine clothes! Remember what I have told you, Vicktor. Do this task well, and then you may eat the dog.” The zombie watched the animal crouched under its master’s chair as he backed out of the room to begin his appointed task.
Grenedal Dragonblood, a man who had been changed by time and magics, watched. In the Kingdom of Humbrey to the north, was the Duchy of Velent. It was the southernmost noble house of thirteen. It was on a small stretch of land between the Lost Swamp and just north of the border of the Kingdom of Trysteria, and the Duchy of Malvor. Duke Malvornick was often seen in Velent, and was recognized to be a close friend of the Duke and Duchess. To the north of Velent was the County of Trism. The Count often appeared in Velent also, but did not seem quite as friendly as the southern Kingdom’s Duke did. At that very moment, the Count was leaning close to the ambassador from Malvor and whispering. They both looked up, at the same time, at the man watching them.
Grenedal looked down, staring at his skin. The lines on it had become deeper and more pronounced in the past year. People thought it was hair that was on his arm, but if you looked closely, you could see that the lines were too close to the skin and too uniform. They resembled scales more than anything else. In the shadows of the evening festivities of the Autumnal Equinox and holy day of the Changing Wheel, few people noticed the oddities. People noted his height though, which was more than two meters tall.
Grenedal knew that Duke Malvornick had plans for this Kingdom, but not what those plans were. The dragon-kin could not counter any of the Duke’s intentions without that information. Grenedal was good at getting information though, and had spread enough coins through the hands of others in the past few days to buy a fourteenth noble house in Humbrey. Soon, the information would begin to trickle down to him. Once it did, he would piece it together and start to ask the questions that would uncover the well-hidden schemes of Malvornick.
Lord Jaeken stood by another noble. The aristocrat had been making many visits to Velent lately. He had not been sending messengers or knights, but rather attending the meetings himself. Grenedal knew both Lord Jaeken’s sons had disappeared, and each of them had once been priests of Jonath with promising futures. The Lord was speaking with great feeling, and the Earl was listening to every word he said.
Grenedal turned to his companion. They both had dressed for the celebration and wore matching finery in golds, browns, and yellows, her gown full and flowing. She was a slim woman with exotic features. She sipped at the crystal chalice of wine, eyeing the men in the room with an almost predatory gaze.
She noticed him looking down at her, and raised her glass in toast. “Well, Lord Dragonblood, here is to the upper echelon living up to its exciting possibilities.”
“I know what you mean; there is a reason I wasn’t disappointed when I was disowned. You missed nothing by being raised on the streets.”
“But you got it back easily enough.”
Grenedal glared at her for a moment, and shrugged. “My whole family being murdered was not necessarily easy. At least, not for them I would guess. Ironic though, if they had not sent me away, they would all still be alive.”
“You sound like you had it done for the sake of revenge.”
“You know where I was when it happened, strapped to a machine that killed most people in less than a week. You found me there, three months after you lost me.”
“Yeah, but look what came of it.” She snaked her arm around his body. “Tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention the magic you now have. That machine brought out more, much more, than just your family’s dragon blood.”
“We don’t have time for this. You have a job to do. Talk to the Earl; find out what Lord Jaeken has been doing. I will put a tail on Malvornick’s envoy.”
“Oh, you have a tail too now?” she asked, as her hand slipped to his posterior.
“Go on, and don’t use your real name, Kaht.” He pulled himself free of her groping hands.
“Have I ever?” She sauntered into the crowd, every male head turning to watch her sinuous movements.
The Earl had little to tell Kaht, though he had succumbed to her charms, and a small potion poured in his drink, with little effort. She learned where Malvornick was that night though, and decided that perhaps it would be more useful to find him. And it would definitely be more interesting and dangerous. There was only so much monotonous seduction that a girl could put up with. Men were predictable, even when it could bring death with a wrong word. Perhaps they were even more predictable that way.
Kaht had changed clothes, and now looked like any one of the dozens of servant girls in the place. She had access to any room she chose to go, no one questioned a servant.
Once out of the main areas, she made her way down the stairs to the dungeons below, where the Duke was said to be. It took a dagger, a little blood, and a promise of bliss to get that information. No one would find that man for weeks, stuffed into a midden heap below a privy as he was. The people here seemed to thrive on pain of one sort or another. Either seeing someone hurt, or hurting another. She had seen at least a dozen slaves’ collars that had the tag dangling from it showing that someone was due for a lashing, or marks showing they recently received one. Not to mention the three lords and one lady she had found in dark corners buggering someone in one form or another. Suffering was joy in this place, and she wasn’t sure if it repelled or intrigued her.
She found the Duke, but only after backtracking three times and discovering the secret panel in the dungeons, which led to a private chamber. The room was bedecked with devices that even she had never seen. There were tables with straps; a rack with cutting implements, leather floggers, cat o’ tails with metal razors, and other such tools. There were also tools that she hadn’t encountered. Iron pincers, wicked curved tools, leather strips with sharpened studs that went inside of the cuffs, and more. But those things only caught her eye for a moment. The most interesting thing was a naked Duke Malvornick leaning over a woman that lay on a table.
The table was hinged so the legs and arms could be spread, pulled away from the body. The blonde woman was strapped down, her arms spread away from her, and her legs spread. She was nude. Thin silver pins had been stuck in her thighs, biceps, and pierced her plump breasts. Blood welled up at these points. Malvornick spoke to her as if she were a lover, telling her things he would tell no other.
“No one sees the big picture, my love,” the Duke said, kissing her eyelids as his prisoner whimpered around a cork ball in her mouth. “I am driven, you see? I have a mission, and it is to save this world. But to do that, I need to control it. No one else is worthy of the position.
“The people are out of control, they are greedy and gluttonous. It’s so easy to tempt them away from their self-righteous and moralistic ways. They are like ants to sugar, easily distracted from whatever they were doing to help the hive.”
Malvornick slipped another needle into the woman’s ribs, and her breath rattled as a lung collapsed. As she spasmed, he raised a platform under her neck, positioning blades on each side of her neck. The woman struggled to remain still so she wouldn’t slice
her own throat.
“I even set up a place in Everyway to drain the magical abilities from the gifted few. Know what it was for? To help summon beings from another world to come here. Many people would never understand why I would want that though. The Troöds gave me the idea. If I can get a common enemy here I can unite the people in a common cause. Instead of fighting each other, they will join together under a strong leader to fight the invaders. And of course, I am that leader.
“The Troöds thought I was helping them, but had it set up to blow up in their faces. I would have taken control of all the power as soon as the demons came through. But that plan was ruined by, of all things, a demon half breed and one of the men I had strapped to a table. Just like you are now. But instead of draining blood, I was draining all his power.”
The Duke inserted a knife into the soft tissue of the woman’s belly, smiling as the blood welled up and dribbled down her sides onto the floor.
“I wanted to lure Nomed there, that’s the demon half breed, and drain him. Imagine, using the very energy of the foreign invaders to bring them here! But don’t worry, my pet, I had a backup plan. I convinced the Troöds to summon another demon, Kez’et-dual. But he was already on this world, so he isn’t actually in their control. He is now my tool, and I will use him to get his kin here.
“In the meantime, I weave my web here and take control of the ruling houses. It is so easy, it’s ridiculous. Men are eager to give over control to anyone else that seems to have a plan. And I do have a plan, so many plans.”
Kaht watched as Malvornick positioned himself between the woman’s legs and as she twitched in her death throes, entered her. Unable to watch any longer, she slipped away to find Grenedal. She never saw Duke Malvornick smile at her back.
Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One Page 25
