Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga)

by Matthew Olney

  “Up high” Ferran yelled.

  Luxon looked to the sky. More of the Pucks were high in the tree tops swinging from tree to tree at a terrifying pace.

  “Keep riding, there must be a rune stone somewhere ahead!” the Nightblade shouted over the sounds of the horse’s hooves and excited Pucks. The monsters had smelled and tasted blood, now they wanted more.

  Luxon concentrated and felt the familiar tingle of energy manifest itself. He watched as a Puck dove down from the trees at Yepert and Alira. He raised a hand and unleashed a bolt of lightning from his palm. The Puck was struck and sent whirling away to smash into a tree with a sickening squelch. More dropped from the trees but Luxon blasted every one that threatened his companions. His hair was smoking and his arms tingled as the magical lightening was unleashed.

  “We’re clear of the trees!” Ferran called from behind him.

  Luxon gasped in relief. Sure enough the group had cleared the dense forest to emerge into a wide clearing. His relief instantly evaporated at what he saw.

  Scattered about the clearing were the rotting corpses of a dozen men in the livery of the Knights of Niveren. Weapons were scattered about and blood was everywhere. Kaiden had halted his horse to stare in horror at the sight of his fallen comrades.

  Ferran galloped up to the Knight.

  “We cannot linger, the Pucks are too many. Your brother knights failed in their quest. Make sure we do not meet with the same fate, come,” Ferran said grabbing Kaiden’s arm firmly. The Knight nodded unable to hide the emotions coursing through him.

  The group rode on.

  If they had lingered a little longer however they would have noticed that the dead knights had not been slain by Pucks but by assassins’ blades. They were riding into even greater danger.

  ***

  24.

  The tree was there, the one from his dreams. The moons shone dimly upon the hilltop and in their feint glow there stood a twisted tree. In the distance atop a tall outcrop of stone sat the citadel of Tentiv.

  They had lost the Pucks a few miles back, but still the Ferran had insisted that they press on.

  Luxon slowed his pony to a halt and stared at the tree. His stomach knotted with fear as the dream flashed before his eyes. Large and ominous black clouds were rolling in on the horizon promising rain. He flinched as the clouds lit up brightly, the distant thunderclap reaching his ears only moments later.

  “We have to keep moving, Tentiv is near. We can find shelter from that storm there,” Ferran shouted over the noise of the thunder.

  A light rain began to fall and the horizon lit as another bolt of lightning split the sky.

  The others moved onward, but Luxon stayed rooted to the spot. He held the reigns tightly as his pony tried to move forward and follow its fellows. Luxon wouldn’t let it. Something terrible was about to happen, he knew, he had seen it.

  Yepert noticed his friend. He turned his pony and trotted over to Luxon whose face had gone a deathly white and whose eyes were wide with fear. Alira dismounted, her long hair blowing in the ever strengthening wind.

  “Luxon? What is the matter, we must keep up with the others,” she said soothingly. She placed a hand on the pony’s neck and whispered calming words into its ear. Even the animal could sense its masters worry.

  “This place, I have seen it in my dreams. We must not go onward, only horror will await us, I know it,” Luxon cried. He looked at his friends. They were looking at him as though he were mad. Sadness was in Yepert’s eyes. Alira simply glared at him. The girl took his hand in hers.

  “What do you believe is over that hill?” she whispered.

  Thunder rumbled causing them all to flinch.

  Luxon glanced away to see a shadow stood at the side of the road. He could see that it was a person; he could just make out the shape of a tall robed figure. The figure raised an arm and pointed with a long unnatural finger. It was the spectre from his dream.

  Just like his dream a menacing laugh came from the darkness. Was it all in his mind?

  That thought was put to rest when he saw a look of pure terror on Yepert’s face. His friend fell backwards out of his saddle with a heavy thud. He lay unmoving.

  Luxon was confused. That was until he realised that the laugh was not coming from the spectre. He followed the direction of the spectres finger and looked straight into a set of black evil eyes.

  He screamed as the girl who he knew as Alira gripped him around the throat and flung him from the saddle. Her blonde hair had been replaced by long black, her young face twisted into a maniacal and feral grin, and her eyes...the eyes were full of malice and hate.

  With impossible speed she was upon him, her hands that had only moments before been delicate and dainty were now like talons. He screamed for help, but no one came to his rescue, not this time. The claw like nails raked across his chest as she clawed at him savagely.

  “You are mine! You will not ruin my plans!” Alira screamed into his face. Spittle covered him as her insanity strengthened limbs threatened to tear him asunder.

  In reflex he focused and pushed. Magic flowed through him once again.

  “Get off of me!” he yelled in rage. The telekinetic blast knocked Alira off of him, sending her sprawling in a tangle of limbs.

  “What are you?” Luxon screamed as he scrambled back onto his feet. He whipped his robe open to free his arms and settled into a fighting stance taught to him by Master Ri’ges.

  Instead of standing the thing that had only moments before been a beautiful girl rose from the ground to float ghost like before him. Her torn black hair radiated around her like some corrupted halo. Her features were of an old hag instead of a young woman.

  Luxon flinched as he heard pained cries coming from over the hill. The thing that had been Alira turned to look and cackled wickedly.

  “Your friends are now mine. You are mine. Your quest is over. Everything has gone according to plan.”

  Luxon stared at the thing. He gulped as he realised what she was.

  “You’re a witch...the witch the Baron of Retbit mentioned in Caldaria. You were behind the attack on the city...you...you...why?” he shouted. Anger filled him. The witch had played them all for fools. For what purpose he had no clue.

  The witch raised her arm and screamed, a blast of powerful magic slammed into Luxon knocking him to the ground once more. A wave of dizziness threatened to send him crumpling to the ground but he focused and regained his footing.

  The witch appeared surprised.

  With a shout Luxon retaliated with magic of his own. Fire erupted from his palms to engulf the witch and the nearby foliage. He fell to his knees in exhaustion, his energy depleted. He groaned when the cackling laughter mocked him. The witch floated above him, not a hair on her head had been harmed.

  Again the witch raised a hand and this time sent Luxon to oblivion.

  *

  Pain was in every inch of his battered body. Luxon groaned as he regained consciousness. Had it all just been a bad dream? He hoped that he would open his eyes and find himself in a nice warm bed back in Caldaria. His hopes were raised when he felt a hand brush his cheek gently.

  “Hannah?” he muttered deliriously.

  He opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t.

  Sophia was knelt over him her face was a patchwork of bruises and her lips were bloody. She looked like hell.

  “Thank Niveren you’re alive,’ she sighed in relief.

  She helped Luxon into a sitting position before pulling a dirty looking rag from her belt. Tentatively she pressed the cloth to the back of his head causing him to cry out in pain. The rag came away bloody.

  Luxon looked around. They were inside what appeared to be a small prison cell. A row of iron bars blocked any chance of escape. Beyond the cell was a single flickering candle placed upon a wooden table.

  “Where are we?” he asked. He knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

  Sophia frowned.

  “We are inside Tentiv. Prison
ers of the witch,” she replied. Her eyes were ringed with bruises. She took his left hand and put it over the rag. ‘Hold it to the wound, it should stop the bleeding.”

  “Alira is the witch,” Luxon said simply. He couldn’t believe it; he hoped it was all just some trick.

  Sophia nodded; a look of anger crossed her battered features.

  “She said she had a plan. That I was a part of it,’ he went on miserably. Surely he should have known, the old pedlars they had met on the road had known something was amiss with Alira. Did they know what she truly was?

  “We heard your cries for help, but we were ambushed by dozens of Crimson Blade assassins. Whoever she is, she is in league with them,” Sophia said angrily. The witch hunter paced the tiny cell like a caged animal. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

  “I should have seen through her. I am a witch hunter, killing bitches like her is my job. If she has hurt the others...” she didn’t need to finish that sentence, Luxon knew what she was going to say. He felt the same.

  “We need to get out of here,” Sophia growled.

  “What about the Diasect? Where are they?” Luxon asked, gingerly dabbing his head with the rag. The bleeding appeared to have stopped for now. Slowly he got to his feet, dizziness washed over him, but he leant against the cells cold stone wall to save himself from falling over.

  “They dragged us through the citadel. The bodies of the monks tasked to defend this place were everywhere. Most had rotted to skeletons...of the Diasect...they’re gone. I think the witch took this place a long time ago,” Sophia explained.

  “Who is she?” Luxon asked. In all his reading at Caldaria he had never heard of a witch so powerful. He had used all of his magic and she had laughed it off. In all of his reading only Danon had been so strong.

  Before Sophia could answer, the sound of a heavy metal door grinding open reverberated throughout the dungeon. Footsteps approached their cell causing Sophia to back away from the bars to stand protectively over the wounded Luxon.

  A crimson robed assassin stood before the cell their features hidden in the shadow cast by their hood.

  “She will see you now,” the assassin said, its voice barely higher than a whisper. It didn’t sound like a voice from this world but from some distant place. The Crimson Blades had long been a mystery to the peoples of Delfinnia. Legend and myth surrounded them.

  Some said that they were just mortal men and woman that killed for coin, whereas others believed that they were from the void and others that they served the N’gist cult. From all he had experienced of them Luxon believed the latter. What they actually were, he hadn’t a clue. They did not move and speak like normal men, perhaps they were from the void.

  The assassin pulled a large iron key from out of his sleeve to unlock the cell door which swung open slowly with a creak.

  Sophia wasted no time. She charged at the assassin with a shout. She swung a fist at the robed figure who casually ducked out of the way. When she swung again the assassins own hand shot out grabbing hold of the witch hunter’s fist. Sophia cried out as she was sent to her knees by the assassin’s powerful grip. Tears streamed from her eyes as more pressure was exerted.

  “I could snap your arm clean off witch hunter...”

  Sophia cried out in relief as the assassin released his grip. Sophia protectively clutched her arm close to her body. Causally he pushed Sophia aside to lean over Luxon. With no effort Luxon was lifted into the air to be placed over the assassin’s shoulder. Luxon tried to struggle, but the wound to his head caused the world to spin. He tried to use magic, but found that he could not concentrate.

  With Luxon over his shoulder the assassin grabbed Sophia and hauled her onto her feet.

  “Come. She is waiting.”

  ***

  25.

  As he was carried all Luxon could see was the stone floor. He lost track of the layout of the place as the assassin turned left then right numerous times. At one point they ascended a flight of wide stone steps upon which lay a skeleton still wearing the blue and gold robes of the monks tasked with protecting the Diasect.

  Finally they reached a large chamber. Flickering candles gave off the only light, casting eerie shadows upon the high vaulted walls and arched ceiling. Upon the walls were tapestries depicting events from Delfinnia’s history. Intricate runes were carved into the stone walls and precious gems glimmered in the candle light.

  The assassin dumped Luxon onto the ground with a thud and shoved Sophia down onto her knees. Luxon sat up to see the others. They too were on their knees, their hands bound behind their backs.

  Ferran’s face was pale and like Sophia’s bloody and bruised. Around his neck hung an N’gist amulet like the one used by the baron of Retbit during his raid on Caldaria. Luxon could sense the amulet’s dark power sucking the magic out of the beaten Nightblade.

  Next to him was Kaiden. His face was one of pure misery. A wound was under his right eye which still bled, the crimson dripping onto the floor. His mantle had been stripped from him and his armour taken so that he shivered in the coldness of Tentiv.

  Luxon paused. He couldn’t see Yepert. A knot of terror wriggled in his gut. Where was his friend? Had he been killed?

  “Ah you’re all here, delightful,” the witch cackled as she entered the chamber through a large metal door embossed in the far wall. Two long Crimson coloured banners hung from the ceiling on either side of the doorway. A feint image of a black dagger was emblazoned on each.

  Luxon gasped. The witch was no longer the hag that had thrown him from his pony. She once again looked like a young girl. He glanced over to see Kaiden struggle against his bindings as he saw her.

  “Show your true self witch!” the knight cried out, pain evident in his voice.

  Alira laughed cruelly. She sauntered over to him and placed a finger under his chin. She raised his head so that he could not look away.

  “You have feelings for this body...I have surpassed even myself,” she laughed, “To have a noble Knight of Niveren fall for me. Oh this is perfect.”

  She released Kaiden’s head and spun away happily her long dress whirling around her. Luxon could feel the knight’s pain, his expression was one of desolation and tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

  “Stop toying with us you bitch, and kill us already!” Ferran snapped. The Nightblade was a mass of bruises, but defiance radiated from him like a beacon.

  Alira stopped her joyful dance and glared at the Nightblade. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Within the blink of an eye she crossed the chamber her hand gripping tightly about Ferran’s throat. With apparently no effort, the man who was a whole head taller than the girl was lifted into the air, his legs kicking as he battled for breath.

  Sophia cried out. Ferran’s face began to turn blue, his struggles weakened. Luxon looked away, he couldn’t watch someone die.

  Alira smiled wickedly before tossing the Nightblade across the room like a rag doll. Ferran crashed to the ground, gasping for breath.

  “Now is not the time to kill you Nightblade.” She said softly as her gaze settled upon Luxon.

  “What do you want with me?” Luxon stammered. Any pretence of defiance had left him. Fear was all that remained. He knew she was more powerful than him, he was no match for her and he was terrified about what she had in store.

  Alira laughed mockingly.

  “You are the key Luxon. For many years I had visions of you. Then I set events in motion. The assassination of the royal family, the war, I did it all to lure the one from my visions out into the open, and I did!” she laughed happily clapping her hands together like a lunatic.

  “With magic outlawed there was only one place you could be. Caldaria. The one place that I couldn’t get into. The mages despite their pathetic powers would have detected me instantly.’ She paused and then skipped over to stand in front of Kaiden. “That is why I found this girl.’ She said as she ran her hands down her body seductively.

  Kaiden raised his head to star
e at the witch.

  “What do you mean?” he growled.

  “The girl Alira, she is my vessel. She provides the body that allows me to pass unseen through this world. It is a strategy that has served me well for eons. Do you really think that one as powerful as me would have gone undetected for all this time otherwise?” Alira explained with a snide tone evident in her voice.

  Kaiden’s eye widened at the revelation.

  “The girl tries to struggle. Her incessant whining, and her pleading irritates me, but alas I do what must be done,” the witch muttered.

  “Who are you?” Sophia shouted. The revelation had visibly shaken her.

  With supernatural speed Alira flitted from the Knight to appear before the witch hunter. A look of pure loathing was on her face. It didn’t look natural on so pretty a girl.

  “I am the first. The bride of he who embraced the darkness at the dawn of time,” the witch boasted raising her arms high into the air for dramatic effect.

  “It cannot be...” Sophia whispered in stunned disbelief. “the bride of Danon himself...”

  Alira lowered her arms, pure malice emanating from her.

  Luxon could sense the dark power radiating from her, he found himself short of breath as it threatened to devour them all. The candles in the chamber seemed to fade into shadow until it was engulfed in darkness.

  “SAY...MY....NAME!” the witch bellowed. Her voice was unnatural, rasping and tormented, like something from a nightmare.

  Sophia stared at the witch unflinchingly. Tears ran down her face as the magnitude of her failure as a witch hunter hit home.

  “You are Cliria. The first witch,” Sophia whispered.

  Cliria smiled and the darkness retreated, the flickering candles once more cast their light across the chamber.

  Luxon stared in stunned disbelief. He had read the tales of Danon and of his wife. If true, she was one of the oldest living things in the entire world, tens if not hundreds of thousands of years old. His head spun at the revelation.

  Time and again she and her dark lord had threatened the world, each time they had been bested by heroes. Each victory for the light however came at a terrible price. Millions had perished in the wars of old and whole continents had been engulfed in the flames.