Lido chuckled humourlessly.
“Perhaps your order hasn’t been as thorough with its purges as you believe,” the baron sniped.
Woven shook his head and gave the baron a look of warning, they could not risk insulting the knights and losing their support. Something strange was happening, something that he did not understand.
“We can speculate over the Lich’s identity until the cows come home. We need to plan a defence of the city before it strikes,” one of the commanders interrupted impatiently, stifling Thondril’s angry reply.
“Of course, Shall we?” Lido said gesturing to one of his stewards to bring in some refreshments. Woven took his seat. With the baron and the knight masters constant bickering it was going to be a long day.
*
The sun was setting by the time the war council ended. The knights and Eclin commanders quickly set about getting their plans into place. The baron retired to his chambers leaving Woven alone with Master Thondril.
Woven rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.
“So,’ he said looking at Thondril, ‘why exactly did your order come here? And do not try and lie to me, I may be a ranger but I’m not a fool. You would not have marched all this way just on the hearsay of rumours. There is another reason why you’re here.”
Thondril poured himself another cup of wine before sitting back in his seat. He bit his lip as he thought of a response. The man across the table was smart, and he seemed to be a trustworthy sort. The order needed someone who knew the city.
He sipped his wine before replying.
“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room. Do you understand?” Thondril said seriously.
Woven raised his eyebrows in surprise at the master’s serious tone. He placed his right hand over his heart.
“I swear.” The Ranger answered solemnly.
Thondril smiled.
“A man came to us. A man named Davik. He was there the night the royal family was murdered. He told us that an heir had survived...that a child, a boy, had been taken to safety far from the intrigues of the capital and those who would seek to harm him.”
Woven whistled in surprise.
“This child is here in Eclin I take it?” he asked.
Thondril nodded in the affirmative.
“We did not know what to expect. I believed that the child could have been the prisoner of Baron Lido. I mobilised the order in case we had to force him to hand the boy over to us.
‘Instead we find a land under attack and in need of assistance. If I had known of the Lich I would have told the entire realm to march north. The threat posed by the Lich and his forces is far greater than the squabbling of the barons. Why did it attack? I do not know, but something doesn’t add up, someone or something stirred it from its slumber.”
Woven slumped into his seat his stomach knotting in dread. He hated the idea that someone out there had the power to control such a beast. He reached across the table for the wine pitcher, poured himself a cup and quickly downed its contents.
“I need someone who knows the city Woven. Someone who could help us find the boy. I don’t want anyone else to know of our true purpose here, if they did I fear for the child’s safety.”
Woven nodded. The sound of the drumming continued to sound from beyond the walls. Lit braziers lit up the crenulations to reveal soldiers running to and fro.
“If his guardian is smart they would have left the city when you cleared the road south.” The ranger surmised.
Thondril shook his head.
“No they are still here. Davik told me that the boy’s guardian would not leave until they received this,” the grandmaster reached into his tunic and pulled out a gold ring.
Woven gasped as he recognised the piece of jewellery. Everyone in Delfinnia knew the jewel of the King.
“This jewel was smuggled out of Sunguard by Davik on the night of the last King’s death. This jewel will let the boy’s guardian know who to trust.”
Thondril slid the jewel across the table’s smooth surface towards Woven, who picked it up and quickly stuffed it inside his cloak. As he put the jewel into his pocket his fingers brushed against the strange stone he had taken from the sigil caves.
‘One mystery replaces another’ he thought.
“Very well Thondril. I’ll look for this child and his guardian. There are a few places one can hide in this city. Before we go our separate ways however, what happened to this Davik you speak of?” Woven asked as he stood and made for the door.
A thoughtful expression crossed the Knight Masters face.
“The last we heard he was making his way to Tentiv to find the Diasect.”
***
29.
Davik hid in the shadow of a large tree as the procession of crimson robed killers marched past. At their head and astride a black horse was a young woman with long blonde hair.
He ached to draw his sword, but the slowly healing wound to his side and the dull pain from his legs brought him to his senses.
Finally the group had passed and he continued on his way. The broad sword on his hip weighed heavily as he limped down the road towards the citadel at Tentiv. Seeing the Crimson Blades coming from its direction he knew that he would not find those he sought. Nonetheless he had to see for himself.
Davik winced as the staff he used to help walk slipped in a patch of mud almost sending him tumbling to the ground. Tentatively he put his other hand on the bandage on his side. It came away bloody.
He recovered his composure and resumed his slow hobble down the road towards the citadel. The Fell forest was eerily quiet, and yet he had not seen nor heard any fell beasts.
The walk had been exhausting and that was despite him catching a ride with a group of travelling merchants on the Balnor road. He’d been forced to leave the kindly road folk behind however once they ran into the rear guard of the Sunguard Legion. A group of six legionnaires had marched up the road, a young podgy boy dressed in a blue cloak, similar to the ones the mages wore, in between them. The lad’s hands had been bound.
After the showdown at the old king’s palace he had done his best to spread disharmony amongst the city’s populace. Chances were that Rason’s men were looking for him.
He had underestimated Rason’s ability to win hearts and minds, or was it that the people were simply desperate to see an end to the conflict?
Wounded and close to death he had been unable to do no more than spread rumours. He had been fortunate to find safety within the Knights of Niveren outpost in the city.
The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time he reached the citadel. The ancient fortresses towers cast long ominous shadows over the forest below.
He paused and listened. Only the feint sounds of a crow squawking on one of the fortresses high towers. Satisfied that there was no danger Davik hobbled across the road towards the gatehouse. His spirits sank as he saw the skeletal remains of one of Tevtiv’s monks lying at the top of the stone steps which led up to the gate.
He was surprised to see the iron portcullis was raised. His only obstacle now was the large wooden doors.
As he reached the doors he placed his walking staff against the stone wall. He leant against the gate and pushed with all of his strength. Pain emanated from the wound in his side, and his legs burned, causing him to cry out. After a few moments of straining the gate creaked open.
He leant heavily against the wall his head between his legs, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. The pain caused stars to whirl in his vision.
He stopped and listened again. He tried to control his breath.
“What was that?” he panted. He hobbled through the doors to find himself in a large hallway. More skeletons were scattered about. Blood smears ran down the stone walls and the banners of the Diasect were ripped and torn. Burn marks ran along the left hand wall.
“Magic...” he muttered under his breath. He’d seen what magic users could do when he had been one of the Kings bo
dyguards. Being so close to the former King he knew of the royal families close clandestine ties to the mages and Nightblades.
The noise came again. It was coming from one of the arched doorways cut into the stone wall. He hobbled to the arch and waited. A flight of stone steps led downwards into a maw of darkness. A cool breeze brushed against his cheek and the smell of damp and decay filled his nostrils. He’d smelt that smell before.
“Dungeon...” he growled. He had always hated them. As captain of the King’s bodyguard he’d had his fair share of watching torture. Defending a King often meant getting your hands dirty.
“Help!” came a voice from down in the dark. A quieter voice replied, it didn’t sound friendly.
Carefully Davik drew his sword and crept down the stone steps into the darkness. The staircase curved steeply to the left as he went. As with most castles Tentiv was designed to favour a defender, with the steps spiralling downwards a right handed swordsman coming down would have the advantage.
He slowed as a flickering light came into view at the base of the stairs. With his back to the wall he took a quick peek. Sure enough he saw a long corridor with barred cells running down either side, a sole candle giving off the only light source. He tightened his grip on his sword. Sat on a rickety looking wooden stool was a Crimson Blade.
“Help us!” cried someone from within one of the cells. It was a woman’s voice.
“Quiet...you call out again and I will gut you like a fish...” rasped the assassin.
“Go to the void scum” replied the woman defiantly.
With a speed that startled Davik the assassin was on his feet, his face pressed against the cells bars, a dagger in his hand which he waved menacingly.
Davik saw his opportunity. As stealthily as his wounded legs would allow he crept up behind the robed killer. He raised his sword to deliver a killer blow.
He swung the blade, but to his amazement the assassin was gone. Only his instincts saved his life. He whipped his staff upwards just in time to deflect the dagger aimed at his heart.
“Nice trick,” he panted to the assassin. “My turn”
He lashed out with his own sword causing the Crimson Blade to take a step back. Mistake. With his other hand Davik flicked out low with the staff causing the assassin to trip backwards. Instead of falling however the assassin steadied himself, he contorted his body in a way that no normal human being could.
With a shout Davik pressed home with his attack. He lashed out with his sword, parrying any dagger thrusts with the staff.
Sweat poured into his eyes as he fought. With all of his years training with the sword and the many battles he had fought in his life he was able to match the assassin blow for blow.
Despite that his legs burned and the sensation of warm blood oozing from the bandaged wound at his side made him wince. If he didn’t end the fight soon he would die.
Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Stood behind him and close to the bars of a cell was a man with long black hair and dark eyes. The man was naked and his body was covered with bruises. The man nodded to him.
Davik smiled. He pivoted on the balls of his feet using the staff to help him along. Now the fight had spun in the opposite direction. Now the assassin had his back to the caged man.
Gradually Davik slashed and shoved the assassin backwards until with a kick that caused him to cry out in pain he sent the robed killer flying backwards. The assassin crashed into the metal bars of the nude man’s cell.
The man reached through the bars, wrapping his strong arms around the assassin’s throat. With a shout the man squeezed with all of his strength. The assassin desperately struggled to free himself to no avail. With a sickening snap the assassin’s kicking feet went still.
The assassin’s body slid to the cold damp floor where it lay unmoving.
“The cell door keys are in his robe pocket,” the woman in the cell across the hall cried in relief.
Davik rooted through the dead killers robes. He grunted in satisfaction as he found a bunch of iron keys. The pain in his tired limbs almost made him collapse as he stood but he caught himself by placing a hand on the cold stone wall.
“I’m getting far too old for this nonsense,” he muttered.
*
Davik was resting on his back in the courtyard at the centre of the fortress when Ferran, Kaiden and Sophia joined him. Each looked exhausted, but they were all happy to be free.
“We owe you our lives old man,” Ferran said offering his hand to Davik which the old warrior shook.
Davik chuckled.
“Less of the old if you please. I see you’ve found some clothes,” the old warrior said gesturing to their attire.
“The bastards left our gear just out in the dungeons hallway, right where we could see it,” answered the taller of the two men. Kaiden sighed and muttered a silent prayer as he pulled his Knights mantle over his head.
“A knight of Niveren... are you sir Kaiden per chance?” Davik asked.
Kaiden’s eyes went wide in surprise.
“You know of me? Did the order send you?”
“Aye I heard of you. No, your order did not send me, I came here of my own volition. I had hoped to find the Diasect and gain their support against Rason, but it seems that events have taken a darker twist. The Crimson Blades being here confirms that evil befell this place,” Davik explained. He tried to stand but winced in pain. Sophia offered him her hand which he took gratefully.
“You don’t know the half of it friend,” Ferran said pulling his leather armour on. ‘Two of our company are missing. And the witch has escaped.”
“Witch? What witch?” Davik asked genuinely confused.
“Cliria, the first witch and the one who is behind all of the ills that have befallen the realm,” Sophia sighed as she shouldered her bow.
“It does not matter; we should return to Caldaria and inform Thanos what we have learned. It’s high time the mages got off of their collective arses and stopped cowering, only magic can best Cliria’s power” Ferran interrupted.
Davik held up his hands.
“Wait just a minute. You’re telling me that the first witch, the bride of Damon is real?”
“Yes. She was the one who ordered the deaths of the King and his heirs. It was all part of her plan to lure Luxon... ’ Ferran faltered as he mentioned the boy. He had failed to protect him and Yepert.
“Luxon?” Davik asked. His head was spinning. All this time he had believed that the Baron of Retbit had ordered the King’s death. And now he learns of a witch who he thought was just a fairy tale was real and behind everything.
“A young mage who travelled with us...we walked right into the bitch’s trap,” Ferran growled.
Sophia walked over to the Nightblade. She could see the pain in his eyes. She placed a hand on his shoulder. For a brief moment she saw the man she had once loved, a man who cared, and a man who wasn’t distant.
“There was another boy with us, a mage. A lad named Yepert. The witch hadn’t caught him, he’s probably lost in the Fell forest somewhere,” Sophia added hopefully. If they could just save one of the boys Luxon’s death wouldn’t have been for nothing she thought.
“This other boy. Was he on the chubby side?” Davik asked as he remembered the group of legionaries he had encountered on the Balnor road.
Sophia nodded.
“Yes he did look as though he’d eaten one too many pies,” Kaiden answered.
“I saw him. No more than a few hours ago on the Balnor road,” Davik said. Sophia’s eyes went wide with happiness. “He seemed to be the prisoner of some of Rason’s legionaries however,” he warned.
“We must rescue him,” Kaiden said firmly. ‘He carries something very important. I just pray he destroyed it before he was captured.”
They gathered their gear quickly and hastened out of Tentiv. Luckily the assassins had left their mounts tied up in the fortresses dilapidated stables.
***
&nb
sp; 30.
A vibration ran through the ground causing him to stir. Slowly Luxon opened his eyes. The citadel was nowhere to be seen. Instead he found himself lying on his back.
Where he had expected the high stone ceiling of Tentiv there was instead open sky. Except, it wasn’t blue, instead it was a dark purple streaked with wispy black clouds.
The ground shook again. It hadn’t just been his imagination. He sat up slowly. He stifled a cry as he took in the sight before him. He was on a hill overlooking a vast plain which went on as far as the eye could see.
A vast forest of black menacing trees covered every scrap of ground all the way to the horizon which was lit up with distant flashes of what appeared to be lightning.
He wasn’t in Delfinnia anymore.
His mind raced at the possibilities.
Looking over his body for injuries he was surprised to see he was clothed. He was in his favourite blue cloak and comfortable tunic and breeches.
“Wasn’t I just in my trousers?” he mumbled to himself in confusion.
Something shiny caught his eye amongst the clouds. The purple sky was awash with glittering streams of silver dust which flowed in dazzlingly beautiful patterns that twisted and turned with the warm breeze that was flowing up from the plains below.
The dust arched and dived through the air, pirouetting and moving with a purpose that made it seem alive.
Luxon stared in wonder at the sight. The beauty of the spectacle made his heart ache, to his surprise he felt warm tears running down his cheeks.
He watched the spectacle for a good hour before his attention was caught by a rustling in the forest below. He got to his feet ready to run.
A massive creature was bulldozing its way through the trees. Even from his high vantage point he could hear their trunks snapping like twigs. The vibration he had felt resumed as the beast drew nearer to the base of the hill upon which he stood.
“You’ve suffered a terrible fate haven’t you?” whispered a voice on the breeze.
Luxon froze.
“Do not fear me...Luxon” the voice whispered again. This time it was close behind him.
Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga) Page 19
