Legends of Ahn (King's Dark Tidings Book 3)

by Kel Kade

  “No, I should have known,” Simeon said, suddenly looking much older than he had. “Adelina?”

  “She is well,” Marcum said. “She will be glad to see you both.”

  Marcum and Simeon turned to help Simeon’s wife Pethela from her horse. After a tearful greeting, Marcum bade them join him in his quarters to rest and catch up on the news.

  A few soldiers came to take their horses, and Adsden and Benni waited silently to be either invited or forgotten. Adsden almost hoped for the latter, but he had orders. His hopes were dashed when Count Jebai turned and motioned for him and Benni to join them. He and Benni shared a look and then followed the nobles into the fortress.

  After several turns and staircases, Simeon said, “This place seems familiar.”

  “I was thinking the same,” Pethela said.

  Marcum grunted. He did not sound pleased when he said, “Yes, although it lacks the accoutrements, the interior is the exact layout of the palace in Kaibain.”

  Simeon turned to him with surprise, “Have you been hiding a palace from the king?”

  “Not I,” said Marcum. “This place was unknown to me until a few months ago when Caydean’s men came for me.”

  “How did you get away?” Simeon asked.

  Marcum’s said, “We shall discuss that once we are in closed quarters.”

  A few minutes later, they reached Marcum’s office suite. It was grand, fit for a king, and Adsden knew now that it probably had been designed for one. A man at the door took their cloaks and hung them on a rack. While they were making themselves comfortable, two young women arrived, one with a tray containing moist towels and a teapot with matching cups and saucers, and the other bearing a platter mounded with breads, cheeses, and thinly sliced meat rolled into little tubes around pickled vegetables.

  Benni reached for the tray, but Adsden stopped him before he offended someone.

  “Let the boy eat,” Simeon said. “We have all had a hard time of it, and he deserves whatever thanks we can give him.”

  Benni smiled, grabbed a pateful, and then proceeded to shove the food into his mouth as quickly as possible.

  “You too,” Simeon said, waving to the platter.

  Adsden generally did his best to imitate the refinement of the nobles that he had observed throughout his time as a thief, but he had never been invited to sit at their table. He was uncertain and did not want to expose himself for the common street thief that he was. He glanced at Benni and then looked back to Simeon uncomfortably. Pethela smiled at him and then handed him a towel before graciously pouring him a cup of tea. She then stacked several of the food items onto a plate and passed them over.

  He said, “Thank you, Lady Jebai. I had never thought to be served by a countess.”

  “It is my pleasure,” she said. “If Adelina were here, I am sure she would do the same.” She turned to Marcum and said, “Where is Adelina, dear? You said she is well.”

  Marcum waved and said, “Oh, she will be here momentarily. She spends most of her time in the sewing room or the solar these days. She does not like to be around the soldiers. She says it upsets her to think about them dying in the coming war. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with such a soft-hearted woman.”

  “Perhaps a hardened man needs a soft woman,” Pethela said.

  “You may be right, but although she is soft, she is strong. I doubt I could have reached my position had it not been for her support.”

  A woman’s voice came from the doorway. “I am pleased to hear you understand that, Marcum.”

  Pethela rose, so the men rose with her, and the two women embraced each other as though they might be lost if they let go.

  Adelina said, “Oh, Pethela, you have been through so much. Please, sit and enjoy some comforts.”

  Simeon embraced Adelina and then everyone sat facing each other around a coffee table. Adsden felt awkward, as if he had intruded on the family’s private business, but Benni was happy to continue scarfing the food as he watched with wide-eyed interest.

  General Marcum broke the silence. “Who are your friends, Simeon?”

  Simeon glanced at Adsden and Benni. He cleared his throat as if to speak and then perched at the edge of his seat to collect a cup of tea. He said, “Well”—he paused to stir in a pinch of sugar—“they, ah,”—he paused again to sip—“they are responsible for freeing Pethela and me from the dungeon, along with many others who were to share our fate.”

  Marcum said, “Oh? And the names of these heroes?”

  Simeon wiped his mouth and cleared his throat again, as if stalling might change the answer. Adsden’s resolve hardened. He held a position of influence, one of prominence. He had worked hard to acquire it and had started with far less than these people had. He was not a common urchin. His task here was to represent the guild, to further the Raven’s interests.

  He stood and, with a courteous bow, said, “Greetings, General Marcum and Lady Marcum. I am Adsden Vesti, guildmaster of the Serpent Guild of Justain. This is my apprentice Benni.”

  Marcum stared at him with a calculating gaze. “I see, Guildmaster. You may take your seat.” Once Adsden was settled, Marcum said, “I doubt you took to rescuing people from the castle dungeons out of the graciousness of your heart. What is it you want? Are you here for a reward?”

  Adsden smiled cordially and said, “I doubt it would be in my best interest to walk freely into your fortress and demand payment.”

  Marcum glanced at his brother who was preoccupied with his tea and then returned his studious gaze to Adsden. “Unless you are keeping others hostage. Are these two here as a show of good faith?”

  Adsden sipped his own tea and then relaxed into his chair. “I cannot take credit for the design, only for the delivery. I serve the will of another. Perhaps you have heard of him.”

  “The Raven,” Marcum said with disgust.

  “Quite so,” Adsden said, “and it is a service for which you should be thankful. Lord and Lady Jebai were his top priority.”

  “Why?”

  Adsden shrugged. “I cannot say. I cannot even begin to presume why he would choose them. On the larger scope, I figure it must have something to do with his support of the True King.”

  Marcum nodded. “Yes, I received reports of rumors regarding this True King. He calls himself Dark Tidings. He made quite the spectacle at the tournament, I hear. Who is he?”

  Adsden shrugged. “Again, I do not have that answer, but you should not disregard him. From what I have been told, your missing kin are in his company.”

  Marcum turned to Simeon. “Is this true?”

  Simeon rubbed his brow and said, “I know only what they have told me. I pray it is so. It seems the safest place for them under the circumstances.”

  “News is slow to come here,” Marcum said. “We do not have a mage relay. Do you know where they are?”

  Simeon raised a hand toward Adsden and then dropped it. “Again, all of my knowledge is gifted to me by Adsden and his people. You must ask him.”

  Marcum’s face darkened as he turned back to Adsden. “Do you know where they are?”

  Adsden inclined his head. “The latest is a few weeks old. It seems Dark Tidings made a bold stand in Channería. He walked away from his meeting with King Ionius bearing a treaty for a new island kingdom and the princess. It appears he was headed to his new capital on the island of Cael.”

  With furrowed brow, Marcum said, “Cael? What capital? Cael is a barren rock.”

  Adsden sipped his tea. “Well, it is a barren rock free of Caydean’s tyranny.”

  “And this is where he has taken my nephews and nieces?” Marcum said.

  “That is what I was told,” Adsden replied. “He left with a large group of escapees from the tournament, including the blood heir to the throne.”

  “Nirius?” Marcum said. “So he has kidnapped the legitimate heir?”

  Adsden shrugged. “I know nothing of Dark Tidings’s motives, only that the Raven has endorsed his c
laim, and so I do as well.”

  Marcum growled, “Forgive me if I place little value in the endorsement of a bunch of criminals.”

  Adsden said, “According to the king, we are all criminals.”

  “You know what I mean,” said Marcum. “We do not murder and steal from innocent people.”

  “Where do you draw the line, General Marcum? Lies, collusion, assassination”—he raised a brow—“or treason? Some would say you are the worst kind of criminal, a traitor, and your men deserters. We are all guilty of sedition, and should we be caught, we will all die miserably. You and I will share the same fate.”

  “Maybe,” said Marcum, “but it is not the fate of our lives that discriminate between you and me but the fate of our souls.”

  Adsden nodded slowly. “That is a valid point. Perhaps, then, we should set aside our differences for the sake of our lives, and let the Maker worry about our souls.”

  Marcum sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. “You are either wise for a thief or you speak with a serpent tongue.”

  Adsden said, “The enemy of my enemy—”

  “Is still my enemy,” Marcum snapped. “But unlike the youths that fill our ranks, I have experience in war. War is the time and place where the Hells spew onto the earth, and there is no line between the deeds of good and evil men. Blood shed in the name of right and blood shed in malice all looks the same. Whether our hearts are filled with light or dark makes no difference. We all hope that most of the blood spilled is that of our enemies, and we take no account of what resides in their hearts when we draw it from them.”

  The general’s sight had wandered to some other place as he spoke, but his gaze was sharp when he returned it to Adsden. “So long as your blade is pointed at them and not me, I will not stand in your way.”

  Adsden tilted his head in acceptance, and Marcum nodded once as if finished with the subject and with him.

  Marcum turned to Simeon and said, “How did you find me?”

  “We did not set out to find you.” Simeon glanced at Adsden. “Apparently, the Raven gave him instructions to bring us here.”

  Marcum narrowed his eyes as he turned his attention once again to Adsden. “The Raven knew of this place?”

  Adsden nodded. “It was a coded message regarding a fortress in the north and its location. I am the only person with the key to that particular code, and I was given strict instructions to tell no one else.” He glanced at Benni who was happily helping himself to seconds. “I may have stretched the rules in bringing him. The message said nothing of your presence here.”

  Marcum’s gaze was intense as he leaned forward and said, “Tell me, Guildmaster. What does this Raven look like?”

  Adsden donned an apologetic smile and said, “It is interesting you should ask. I do not know. He seems to bear some power that makes one forget. None of my associates who have met him remember either.”

  “That is a very convenient talent for a criminal overlord,” Marcum grumbled.

  With his mouth filled and his face practically in his plate, Benni said, “He’s cold.”

  They all looked at him, probably out of surprise that he would stop inhaling food long enough to speak.

  “What do you mean?” Adsden asked.

  Benni looked up and said, “That’s what I remember. He was cold. Every time I was with him, it felt like my insides were freezing. Like … like death walked through me. I could see it in his eyes. But, I can’t exactly remember what they looked like. Just ice. But … I guess … maybe I was just scared.”

  Rezkin slipped through the silent, inky blackness. He kicked and pulled, and the silky chill swept around him. Slowly, he moved toward the orange glow that suffused the murky water from above. He stared up at it, the silvery ripples causing his visions to shift and twist into unnatural forms. From his angle, the little creature was milky white dashed by the orange of the firelight on one side, and eclipsed in black on the other. Several others scurried around the platform, clearly defined one moment and like little white blobs the next, as the water’s surface was disrupted.

  One of the creatures slinked over to a woman who had gone missing two days prior. His bald head barely reached her waist, but he used his claws to dig into her dress and flesh as he climbed up to her face. He sniffed at her and then licked her neck, and she cried in terror. The sound reached Rezkin’s ears in the water as a distorted yowl. The scream drew the other creatures’ attention, and they jumped and skittered around her. One unfortunate little beast stood too close to the edge, its attention captivated by the hysteria.

  Rezkin reached out of the water and snagged the thing by its pasty-white ankle. He yanked it into the black water and held it there as it writhed against his grip. Its claws raked his armor, and its sickle-like teeth gnashed as it struggled for air—a problem Rezkin did not have thanks to his enchanted mask. Once its thrashing ceased, he released it to float to the surface, a white corpse bobbing in an ink well.

  One of the beast’s brethren turned to see the floating carcass and scurried over to inspect. Stirred by the vision, its kin followed. They stroked the water to draw the body closer and then sunk their claws into its hide to fish it out of the pool. Rezkin was surprised that the beasts would concern themselves with the welfare of another, but his initial assessment was satisfied a moment later when they began ripping it to shreds to eat its flesh in ravenous pandemonium. Another crashed into the water with an arrow through its eye.

  That was the signal. Rezkin rose from the water, pulling himself onto the slab. Within seconds, he had scythed through the five creatures that occupied the platform and then knelt to inspect the fire.

  “Rezkin?” came a scratchy voice.

  He turned to spy Yserria blinking at him, her face still crusted with dried blood, although some fresher scratches were now evident. Others of his people were hurrying down the narrow path, led by Shezar and Farson, when the little creatures began swarming out of the cave. Archers high on the surrounding cliff shot down the first several creatures that emerged, and then a fireball smacked into a larger horde as the creatures appeared en masse. Although the intensity of the blast threw them in every direction, some slamming into the cave walls with terrible force, their skin did not burn.

  Rezkin removed his mask, hooked it to his belt, and then checked Yserria. He dabbed a bit of blood from her head wound and used his thumb to smear it onto one of the crystals. Then, he moved to the next prisoner.

  “Untie me,” she said. “I will fight.”

  “I cannot,” Rezkin replied, “not yet. You are most likely entwined in a ritual. I must first contend with the spell before you can be released.”

  He laid the six clear, bloodied crystals on the ground in front of him, glanced back at the commotion where his people were fending of the flood of little white creatures, and then looked to Wesson who was at the edge of the cliff watching over him. With a nod from the mage, Rezkin took a deep breath and dove into the first crystal.

  Wesson kept a close eye on Rezkin while he was preoccupied with the crystals. It was his job to make sure nothing got to the king while he was distracted. He knew Rezkin did not often place his trust in people, so he had been surprised when he had been asked to perform the vital role. It was one that would challenge him. There were more of the little white creatures than he had expected. They flowed out of the cave in a seemingly endless swarm, and by the thunderous chorus that rumbled from the caverns beneath his feet, it sounded like many more were to come.

  “They’re here,” Tam shouted from behind him.

  Wesson did not glance back as he erected a web of lightning across the narrow land bridge that led to the island. He heard the squelch of steel through flesh and a shriek as some foul thing died. Meanwhile, three of the little white beasts ran straight into his lightning web. One appeared as if it would scale the blazing bolts just before they crackled through its pasty body. The creatures were thrown, their bodies bursting from the force, but the malod
orous wisp of burnt flesh on the breeze was not forthcoming.

  He released the lightning web and thrust a blinding javelin of power at a mass of creatures that threatened to overtake Malcius and Jimson where they fought at the mouth of the cave. The strikers, Mage Morgessa, a few of the mountain men, Sir Marlis Tomwell, and LeukSergeant Yail Stratus had led a few others down the narrow path. The remainder of the troops, like he and Tam, were at the surface fending off the creatures that emerged from the gloom. He and Mage Nanessy had set several small blazes throughout the vicinity to light the battle field, but they had not seen any of the little beasts above ground until now.

  Tam grunted as he clashed with another of the pale beasts. He called over his shoulder, “There must be another entrance to the caverns nearby. There is no way this many could have hidden without our noticing.”

  Wesson did not respond, although he was glad to hear Tam speak since he could not look back to check on him. Tam’s assignment was to protect him while he tended to other needs. The ward around Wesson was weak since he could not maintain a stronger one around himself while also maintaining one at a distance around Rezkin and casting offensive spells. Some were spells he had sworn to himself he would never use, although he was now glad his master had insisted he learn them. He had not trained at the battle mage academy, though, so many of his spells had been designed for other functions, and he had modified them for present needs. After realizing that fire did not affect the creatures, he had needed to get creative.

  Tam hollered, and Wesson heard branches crack as something heavy thudded to the ground. Wesson turned just in time to see that Tam had been pulled down when four of the creatures had attacked at once. He whipped his hands forward using a sloppy kinetic spell to fling debris into the fray, hoping that Tam’s armor and the blanket of creatures would prevent him from enduring much of the assault. The creatures screamed and hissed, and two of them fell back having been impaled by branches and rocks. Tam thrust a knife under one beast’s ribs and then spun, smashing his elbow into the other’s jaw just as it tried to latch its razor teeth onto his arm.