by Jordan Baker
"That is of some help," Zachary said.
"I try to be helpful," she said.
"Thank you, Ehlena," Stavros said. "I am grateful for your patience in instructing us of these things."
"I too am grateful, but I am less patient," Zachary said, looking over at Aaron and Carly. "How long are they going to be like this? I would very much like to meet my son, properly."
"Not long," Ehlena said with a smile. "Far less than an eternity, which is a good thing, for we have much to do if we are to stop the madness that spreads across the land. This god, who calls himself, the one, is also impatient and he would like nothing more than to take our power and destroy us all, thus fulfilling his own prophecy of becoming the one god."
"And once we find these god swords, where do we find this one god?" Zachary asked. "Will he come out and announce himself?"
"He already has. Kenra, who has taken the power and mind of Kroma, has very loudly proclaimed his presence in this world. Like me, he has chosen a willing person to give form to his essence, one suitable for his purposes. He is known as Cerric, king of Maramyr."
"Cerric?" Stavros inhaled sharply. "That could explain many things."
"I remember Cerric well from my days at Maramyr," Zachary said. "He always was a sniveling coward of a man."
"Whatever he may have been, he has become powerful, he has become a god."
CHAPTER TEN
Cerric rode next to his queen, enjoying the cool mountain air and the way her ample breasts bounced with every beat of the hooves of her horse. He could not have chosen a better lover, for she was thrillingly seductive and had a mind as darkly cunning as his own. Despite her lack of power, there was something about her that he found irresistible and the god part of his mind was both intrigued and hateful toward her, while the part of him that was a man, lusted after her constantly. Calexis was either unaware or did not care that she was a hair away from falling prey to his more murderous moods, and her indifference to his power only intrigued him more.
"She mocks me."
"She is mine."
"Kill her."
"Lay with her."
"Strike her down."
"Honor her."
"She is a queen, fit for a god."
"She is a common whore."
"She mocks me."
"How does she mock me?"
"Her existence is a mockery."
"She is a queen."
"She is an animal."
"She lays with animals."
"She should be a goddess."
"She would steal my power."
"Yes, she would. Cunning wench."
"Kill her."
"Why does she not fear me?"
"Kill her."
"Lay with her."
"Enough!"
Cerric's thoughts whirled with different voices that were a cacophony of violence and scorn in his mind, and yet he was pleased to see Calexis riding along side him, her dark elegance a fitting match for his own fearsome power. Cerric knew the power of the god that resided within him was chaotic and fearsome, but he had control over him. His thoughts might be scattered at times, but he reassured himself that his actions were his own.
"Your highness," said one of the black robed mages. "We should reach the first encampment soon. Shall we press on to main army or would you and her highness the Queen prefer to rest."
"We will continue," Cerric replied. "I would like to survey the full extent of my army. What reports have we received?"
"The eastern passes are sealed, lord Kroma," said the mage.
"Do not call me that," Cerric told him. "I am Cerric. Kroma speaks when I allow it."
"Yes, King Cerric."
"What of the outlying towns? Are there any that still resist us?"
"No, my lord. The Kandaran Duke Kaledra has joined with our Xallan troops. Some of his soldiers rebelled and joined with reinforcements from the Kandaran main force, led by Duke Boric, but they were crushed by Lord Draxis and his Darga."
"And what of Duke Boric? Was he captured or killed?"
"He fled the battlefield and has eluded our searches thus far, but he was wounded during the fight."
"Tell me, mage," Calexis interjected. "What of Prince Draxis? How did he fare in his first command?"
"The mages tell me he was very effective. He engaged Duke Boric directly, which was no mean feat, considering the Kandaran Duke's transformation."
"What's this?" Cerric asked, his curiosity piqued.
"The first reports from the battle say that the Duke transformed into a creature of some kind, similar to the Darga in many respects."
"Interesting," Cerric said. "Describe this creature."
"My lord, we have yet to receive a detailed report, but the creature appears to be much like a Darga, only larger, perhaps three or four times the size, and very powerful. It is said that the creature was also winged."
"It seems the old blood of Akandra endures to some degree," Cerric mused.
"What blood is this?" Calexis asked.
"One of the old races," Cerric told her. "They are a distant relative to the Darga and much more powerful, but their numbers are much fewer, and from what this mage has told us, they have weakened substantially. These creatures may pose a challenge, but less than expected."
"What cratures do you speak of, husband?" Calexis asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
"Dragons," Cerric replied. "They have always been a terrible nuisance."
*****
Boric, having reverted back to his previous form, ducked stealthily around the tree. He may have reduced his size but he retained much of his strength and he easily twisted the neck of the Xallan soldier, killing the man with no more sound than the breaking of a twig. He lifted the dead man off the ground and carried him behind an outcropping of rock, where he quickly stripped off the man's clothes and put them on.
The enemy search parties had tracked him almost all the way back to he crown city and he had been forced to stay on the ground after the injuries that had resulted from his fall through the trees. One of his wings was broken and his wounded shoulder was now out of its socket but at least it had stopped bleeding, mostly, enough that the Xallans and their Darga auxiliaries now had a much more difficult time tracking him without a trail of blood. Thankfully, his legs were fine, the minor wounds he had sustained nearly completely healed, and he still had one good arm. Boric picked up the giant axe from where he had left it leaning against a tree, and he slung it over his shoulder and took off at a run through the forest, putting further distance between himself and the enemy.
It was not long before Boric emerged from the forest and began making his way through the farms and fields that covered the land close to the crown city. It was eerily quiet as he ran through small towns and homesteads that had been vacated with the news of the impending attack. As he topped a rise in the main road, he saw the crown city of Kandara ahead and, perhaps a day's ride to the south, he saw the bulk of the Maramyrian army, camped out over a vast section of the land. Boric continued on toward the city, which rose up in the distance, its dark, charcoal grey, stone walls and sharply pointed towers, perched above the city that spread beneath it at the base of the mountains on the far side of the open plain. The cold majesty of the northern mountains, forever capped with snow loomed high beyond the city, a harsh and unforgiving barrier to the north country, where few dared to travel and from whence none in living memory returned. Soon, Boric knew, the city would be surrounded by a sea of enemy soldiers and there would be nowhere for the people of Kandara to run. Given the number of Xallans he had seen making their way through the eastern lands, along with the legions of Darga as well as the Maramyrian forces that had come from the south, things did not look promising for Kandara, even if the full might of the royal family were brought to bear, which was certainly no guarantee.
Though Boric was clothed in a Xallan uniform, the Kandaran patrols he encountered immediately recognized him, for not only was he
known to most of the soldiers, having spent much of his time over the years participating in their training, the giant axe he carried was unmistakable. The gates of the city opened upon his arrival and he entered to find the streets packed with people, livestock, carts full of valuables and various goods. Groups of soldiers were busily coordinating people, trying to keep the traffic on the main roadway moving and get people settled inside the buildings of the city, where they could shelter from the oncoming storm. Most of the people moved aside for the Duke as he made his way up toward the palace, at first seeing the giant axe he carried and the Xallan clothing he wore, then recognizing his face and noticing the dried blood on his face and covering his arm. The soldiers saluted and nodded and the common people grew fearful, for they could now see what was soon to come.
Boric thought about visiting his apartments at the palace to wash up and change his clothes, but he decided to head straight for the throne room of the royal court chambers, where he knew his nephews, Elric and Borrican would be conferring with military commanders and where he hoped to find his brother, Eric. Boric burst through the doors and threw his giant axe at one of the heavy wooden beams in the wall of the room, where it stuck deeply in the hardwood. All heads turned as he walked through the hall toward a large table, covered in maps, around which the leaders of Kandara were gathered. Past them, sitting on his throne was Boric's brother, Eric.
"Uncle," Borrican said. "The riders you sent told us of your encounter. Are you injured?"
"Nothing that won't heal in time, my boy." Boric noticed that the Ranger woman in the black leathers was present. It was apparent that she had delivered the message to the court, and he decided to have a word with her after his business here was concluded. He turned to his other nephew, Elric. "Your highness, as you have already been informed, Kaledra has sided with the Xallans and the Darga are with them in substantial numbers."
"Yes, we understand the Xallan and Darga are much larger than we thought," Elric replied.
"It gets worse," Boric told him. "The black robed mages have joined the battle."
"What about their sworn neutrality?" Borrican asked.
"That was under the Council of Mages," Boric said. "The priesthood has declared for Cerric and the Xallan Queen. They attacked me directly with battle magic and it was very annoying.
"If the mages are involved, what are we to do?" Elric looked discouraged at the news.
"We fight them harder," Boric said. "They might be mages, but they bleed like any other. We will need archers and some individuals with certain skills who can infiltrate the enemy and take out the black robes." Borric glanced over at the woman in black.
"You speak of assassins," King Eric said from his throne. "Never liked them. Always sneaking about in the shadows. Better to face the enemy head on, I say."
"Good of you to join the conversation, brother," Boric said. "Can we count on your support in this war?"
"I think you youngsters are doing a fine job so far," Eric replied. "Carry on. I am feeling a little peckish, so I'm off to the kitchens to find something to eat."
"Brother," Boric said. "War is on our doorstep. Will you honor your vow?"
"Do not talk to me of vows, Boric," Eric said. "I am sure this army is very fearsome but I am also sure you will be able to handle it once you get those pesky mages out of the way. If you fail, I will do what I must, but it seems I no longer wear the king's crown, so it falls upon young Elric the king to defend Kandara now. It is time he grew up a little bit, anyhow."
Eric stood and walked to the wall of the throne room and picked up a sword that hung upon the wall and he walked over to Elric and handed it to him.
"Here," he said. "You'll need a toothpick."
Elric took the sword by its black scabbard and stared at his father with a confused expression on his face. Eric looked around and smiled at everyone in the room, his steel grey eyes twinkling behind his white eyebrows then he wandered out of the throne room. Elric slowly shook his head as his father left the room, but he strapped the sword to his belt, deciding he might as well wear the old king's sword. It was covered with dust and he would have to remember to have one of the guards polish the leather of the scabbard and shine the jeweled hilt and the black stone on its pommel.
Borrican stared at the door his father had left partly open when he exited the room and he was frustrated with how old his father had become over the years since his mother had died. He was only a few years older than Boric, but looked twice his age. Borrican had often wondered if that was the price of a broken heart, or if it was just a matter of his uncle remaining active and always training with the guards instead of sitting in a throne room reading books and dealing with matters of court.
"Uncle," Elric said turning back to the business at hand, "your advice is both needed and appreciated. What more did you learn from your encounter?"
"These Darga will pose a problem. They are very well coordinated for it appears the two tribes that live in the western part of Xalla are under the command of Calexis' half-breed son, Draxis. He is young and inexperienced but highly intelligent and he learns very quickly. Despite only being half-Darga, he is stronger and faster than most lizard men, which makes him a most formidable foe. I sensed some other things about him that concern me, but I will have to investigate them further."
"What can we expect from the mages?" Elric asked.
"Destructive magics, most likely," Boric replied. "I would imagine their goal will be to bring down the walls of the city, but I think they will find that more difficult than they expect. The real danger will be to the people in the city once the magic begins to fly. We may be in for a long siege and food may also become a problem. These are mundane matters, but if the people cannot hold out while we fight the enemy, then all is lost. We must maintain morale behind the walls and show strength against our foe. I would also keep an eye out for any who, like Kaledra, might spread talk of surrender. I suspect that was why the Xallans did not kill him outright. When I was sneaking around in the forest, I heard the Xallans talking about what the Darga did to Kaledra's people, and how lucky the good Duke was that he was of use to the Xallans. They are holding his family hostage and, no doubt they will trot him out in some ploy to convince the Kandaran people that surrender is something worth considering."
"Should we mount a rescue?" Elric suggested.
"No," Boric told him. "Kaledra is a traitor and he is finding out just how honorable the Xallans really are. If anything we would be doing him a service by putting an arrow through his skull."
"You are unforgiving, uncle," Borrican said.
"I do not forgive oath breakers," Boric told him then he looked to both of his nephews. "Kaldra took an oath, to defend this land and its people and he broke that oath. I ought to kill him myself for such a betrayal. Now, if you will excuse me, I would rather not wear this Xallan garb a moment longer."
"Of course," Elric said. "Thank you for bringing this information, uncle."
Boric nodded to his nephew, the young king, then turned and began to walk from the room, but he stopped and pointed at the Ranger. "You, with me."
"Yes, sir Duke," she said and followed him out of the hall.
"Do you think he was serious?" Borrican asked his brother, looking at the giant axe that their uncle had left sticking out of the wall.
"I don't think Uncle Boric would actually kill Kaledra," Elric said. "He is injured and in a terrible mood. Let him get cleaned up and I am sure he will be in better humor."
Borrican was not so sure. He had never seen his uncle in such a dark mood, and something about the way Boric talked to their father was concerning. It was as though the two of them were continuing a conversation from another time. Still, Borrican wondered what old king Eric could do to support the war. He had become little more than a doddering old man who spent most of his time in the kitchens or visiting the game wardens to discuss his next meal. It was as though the war was barely happening for the old king, and perhaps that was part of wh
y Boric was in such a foul mood.
Outside the royal court, Boric walked briskly through the hall toward his apartments, followed by the woman in black.
"What is your name, Ranger?" he asked.
"Margolis," she said. "Most just call me Margo."
"Margo it is," Boric said. "You are my new left hand."
"And your right hand?"
"That's the one that swings the axe."
*****
"Keep the blade level and your grip firm but relaxed," Rolan told her.
Ariana swung the sword in an arc and the elf stepped away, knocking the back of her blade, sending it further than she intended. Before she could react, Rolan stepped back toward her, his long, thin sword, gliding close alongside her neck.
"Once again. You have been slain." Rolan stepped back along the branch.
"Lovely," Ariana said with a frown. A slight breeze blew the hair from her face and she brushed it back into place with her free hand.
"You have all the grace of movement of an elf, but you do are too aggressive in your attacks and you lose your balance every time. I think you are focusing on moving the blade rather than just moving. Do not watch my sword. Do not watch me. Merely observe then let your feet guide you and let your blade find me.
"I don't understand," Ariana told him. They had been practicing with swords for most of the day and, compared to Rolan's quick and lithe movements, she felt clumsy as a child. Perhaps Keira was right to have called her that when she had first come to Elvanar.
"Keira says you run the trees like a squirrel and she is right. You are certainly better than I was at your age. How is it you can do that, but when I put a sword in your hand, you turn into a lumbering beast."
"Wonderful. I am either a squirrel or a lumbering beast." Ariana said, not enjoying either description, especially not the latter.
"You are both," Rolan replied. "It would be preferable to be neither, to progress beyond such comparisons, and that is why we are here. If you plan to last even a few moments against Quenta, we have much work to do."
