“Dahken, my lord has commanded that I immediately escort you through the gate to his presence,” he said from behind a black basinet helm.
“If he plans to kill me, I’d rather fight and die here,” Geoff responded.
“I do not know of his intentions, nor is it my place to question. I know only that I am not to kill you, so let us keep this peaceful.”
Geoff prepared to retort, but then nodded with the logic of it. Whoever the Loszian’s lord was, his intent was likely not violent; if he wanted Geoff dead, he would have had the crossbowmen finish it here and now. Geoff took his horse’s reins in hand and walked slowly toward the line of armored crossbowmen, and the two behind him followed. As he approached, the line opened to allow him passage through its middle and then folded to envelop him.
The group passed through the open portal into the Loszian fort; it was large enough to allow three men at a time. Seeing the place in the late afternoon sunlight, Geoff noted how little different it was from Fort Haldon in size and layout, and the Loszians too seemed to be building large numbers of outbuildings, many of which were made of darkly colored basalt. Most of the men dispersed as they passed through to the other side of the wall, but their leader and one other escorted him to a large square building of purple Loszian stone. Two more guards stood outside the entry to this building, a heavy oak door that was banded with black iron. They stood at attention and did not move as Geoff’s captor opened the door himself and ushered Geoff into the room beyond.
As if hit by a falling rock, Geoff suddenly realized he was about to meet a Loszian named Menak, the lord of this particular part of Losz. Menak’s abode was clearly one giant square room, just as Cor described, with a ceiling that must have been ten feet tall, no doubt to offer ample comfort for the tall Loszians. The walls and ceiling were all made of purple and black Loszian stone, and Geoff thought sorcery must be at work to hold up the ceiling with no interior supports whatsoever. Torches burned smokily, creating a gray haze near the ceiling and casting flickering shadows throughout the gloom. In the far corner, a true Loszian in dark burgundy robes sat at a bench with a host of alchemical materials in front of him.
Geoff and his captor walked to the large table in the room’s center and waited quietly. Geoff looked around the room interestedly, but after an interminable amount of time he began to grow bored. It wasn’t long after he began to fidget that he Loszian spoke in a startlingly loud and deep voice.
“You have brought me the Dahken?” he asked, though it seemed more of a statement expecting a reply than a question.
“I have, Lord Menak,” the soldier answered as he removed his basinet helm. “He came without unpleasantness.”
“Excellent,” Menak said, still focused on his beakers and vials.
He cursed and sneered as he stood, knocking over several of them with the back of his spindly hand. He turned and made his way to the center of the room. He seemed to be in no apparent hurry, but his long stride made short work of the twenty or so feet between them. Now closer, Geoff could see that Menak’s robes were not actually burgundy, but of a blood red silk. Only one hand hung from the sleeves of his robes, the other apparently tucked into the folds. The pale Loszian studied Geoff intently.
“What are you doing here Dahken?” Menak asked as he sat at the table; his voice sounded almost disinterested.
“Standing, talking to you Loszian,” Geoff replied, and he paid for it as a chain gauntleted hand smacked the back of his head. It hurt sharply at first as lightning bolts and stars exploded into his vision, but quickly faded to a dull ache. He looked at the soldier, clearly a Westerner and not a Loszian, and said darkly, “Don’t do that again.”
“Dahken, let us keep this simple,” Menak said, pulling back Geoff’s attention. “The last time a Dahken came through this pass, I did not obey laws that had been set since before Nadav became emperor. It cost Taraq’nok his life, and I my hand. I do not intend to make the same mistake. So very simply, who are you, and why have to come to Losz?”
“My name is Geoff, and I don’t know. Something pulls at me, pulls me east.”
Menak merely nodded and said, “I have heard something of how the Dahken blood works. I assume you are one of the Dahken who escaped from Losz some months ago? We know you returned to Fort Haldon some months ago, and the Westerners began fortifying the place. Perhaps you can provide an explanation?”
“An explanation of what?”
“Why, he is dense isn’t he?” Menak asked of no one in particular. “Why have the Dahken returned from Byrverus to Fort Haldon? Why does Aquis reinforce the garrison and build additional defenses?”
“I assume for the same reason the Loszians build on their side,” Geoff answered.
“Not as dense as first thought then. Geoff, I don’t particularly care why you have come to the Loszian Empire, but I do care that my Sovereign knows that I am as loyal a subject as possible,” Menak said, and he stood from his chair. “Therefore, the only solution is that we travel to Ghal immediately. Nadav despises unannounced visitors, but I think his ire will turn to great pleasure in this instance.”
“I don’t think I want to go to Ghal to see your emperor,” Geoff said, and even to his own ear, he sounded like a petulant child.
“I don’t think you have much choice, Dahken; refusal will only lead to your death. Yes, you may very well kill me, but you will not escape the thousand under my command. One way or the other, you will die if you choose the path of resistance,” Menak explained. He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, before saying, “Come with me to Ghal, and maybe you will live just a bit longer.”
* * *
An unexpected sensation jolted Sovereign Nadav and brought him to his moment of ecstasy before he expected it. Normally, such an occurrence would infuriate him, sending him into a rage that would end the existence of any number of breakable objects. However in this particular instance, Nadav was mating, a peculiar activity that was wholly necessary for the survival of his race, but he did not enjoy in the least. Lady Veltrina, from the northern part of Losz, was the first to fulfill his expectations for raising an army, and in fact, she had exceeded them considerably. Nadav was not above rewarding excellent work, but he cringed when she decided upon the boon that would be granted. She too was pure Loszian, and no doubt she expected his seed would help her produce an exceptionally powerful sorcerer. He removed himself from her, rearranging his robes and turned as she looked over her shoulder at him expectantly. Realizing that he had no intention of continuing, Veltrina picked her own robes up off the floor and headed for the long stairs that spiraled downward.
Nadav lightly pulled a gold chain that he knew would bring slaves running from the chamber immediately below his while he considered what brought the vile engagement to an end. Someone had transported into the palace, and as Nadav focused, he knew that the person or persons had come from Menak’s holdfast. Two young boys with gold collars around their necks entered from where Veltrina had just passed.
“Find out who has come into the palace by way of Lord Menak’s beacon,” he commanded. As they began to leave, Nadav looked down at his stained robes and wrinkled his nose at the smell of woman. “Bring me new robes as well.”
They left to carry out his words, and he pulled the robes over his head to throw them to the far side of the room. Nadav knew that mating with the women of his kind was a necessary evil, but he hated the stench of the less fair sex. He drew a scalding hot bath and stepped into it as if the heat would burn away the shame he felt. He was just beginning to feel clean when an entourage of his slaves arrived bearing clothing, various powders and news. A teenaged boy, a Dahken, crossed the Spine into Menak’s hands, just the same as it had happened months ago. Menak captured the boy and brought him directly to Ghal. Nadav was pleased; he may just give Menak back his hand, which now sat preserved in a jar of clear liquid.
Once he felt clean and dry, Nadav started on the long spiral down. As he descended, he chose to meet Menak and th
e Dahken while standing on the dais before his throne. If would be a fully formal affair with a full complement of slaves, beautiful in their chained nudity, and soldiers, resplendent in their black armor. He would make a spectacle of destroying this Dahken, as he would destroy all the rest of their kind at Fort Haldon.
Nadav fussed over the condition of the hall containing his platinum throne. He made the slaves and servants reposition the gold carpet that marked a path from the floor up the steps to his throne at least a dozen times. He inspected the condition of his soldiers’ armor, sending several of them back to make certain it shined as was proper. Exactly twenty four slaves were placed precisely upon the twelve steps leading to the dais, one boy and one girl on each side of the golden carpet. It took the better part of two hours for him to be satisfied.
Finally he called for Menak and the Dahken boy, who waited in a nearby antechamber, and the two armored soldiers nearest to it left the hall. They returned quickly to retake their honor guard positions at the columns that lined the hall, and Menak’s familiar form, less a hand of course, entered the hall. Behind him came a figure at which Sovereign Nadav stared long and hard. He seemed to be a boy somewhere in his middle teens, but he was tall for his age and race as judged by his black hair. Dahken aside, the emperor suspected this boy was not a pureblood Westerner; the joints of his limbs and fingers were longer than was normal, and his frame was thin and narrow. The boy’s facial features were angled and sharp, and it was his pointed chin, as opposed to the solid round chin of a Westerner, that confirmed Nadav’s suspicions. The two came to stand in the middle of the golden carpet, only a few feet from the bottom of the steps, and Menak immediately prostrated himself before his emperor.
“You stand before Sovereign Nadav, Emperor of Losz!” Nadav thundered, standing quickly from his throne.
Startled, the Dahken dropped to a knee and lowered his face, though he did not demean himself as obviously as Menak. Nevertheless, Nadav was satisfied after a moment, and he settled back into his position upon the throne. Sensing this, Menak hazarded a glance up and stood, pulling the Dahken up with him.
“Welcome back to Ghal, Lord Menak,” Nadav said formally.
“Thank you, Sovereign,” Menak said with no hint of sincerity. “I have taken this Dahken crossing the narrow pass that separated our lands from Fort Haldon. I believe him to be one that Taraq’nok had collected, and I thought it wise to bring him directly to your presence.”
“Wise indeed,” Nadav answered pensively, as if he did not already have this information. “What is its name?”
“My name is Geoff.”
With the boy’s answer, Menak decided to remain quiet until the emperor put a question directly to him. I will not speak. Allow the Dahken to dig his own grave, he thought.
“Geoff, it seems you have returned to Losz. Perhaps you longed to see your homeland or maybe your family?” Nadav asked. “You have Loszian blood in your veins, do you not? Tell me where you are from, that is, before you ended up in Taraq’nok’s cellar.”
Geoff did not answer, but his eyes visibly darkened. He set his jaw in such a way that the hard angles and points of his teeth ground upon each other, and he lowered his eyes to stare at the carpeted steps instead of the tall Loszian made giant by the dais and throne upon which he sat. Menak sighed and slowly, cautiously backed a few steps away from the boy.
“Tell me!” screamed Nadav, and it jolted everyone in the hall except for Menak, who had expected the reaction.
“Both of my father’s parents are part Loszian. They live in the eastern part of the empire,” Geoff explained. “They expelled my father from their household when he married a Westerner.”
“As well they should have,” Nadav interrupted. “Where are your parents now?”
“Dead at the hands of Taraq’nok. They lived quietly near the Northern Kingdoms and raised me and my sisters. Taraq’Nok came and killed them all and took me prisoner.”
“They were weak, barely Loszian then, to allow one such as Taraq’nok to eliminate them,” Nadav spat as he said the name. “The loss of so many of impure blood is a boon for the empire!”
Geoff’s gray face screwed up in anger; his darkly ringed eyes closed a bit as his forehead furrowed. It gave them an even more sunken in appearance, making him look like some Western ideal of a Loszian demon. He clenched his teeth so hard that they felt as if they may crack, and he resisted every urge in his body to charge up the dais and beat the Loszian emperor to death with his bare fists. The effect made Nadav leer, and Menak was now fully off the gold carpet to one side to make Geoff stand alone.
“I’ve made it angry!” Nadav said gleefully as he rose from his throne. He came to stand at the top of the stairs, and he knew it made him appear twenty feet tall to those below. “You are an abomination Geoff! An abomination of both men and the gods! That one gifted by his parents with Loszian blood would choose to mate with a Westerner for any other purpose than creating slaves or servant is disgusting, an affront to all Loszians! The Dahken race itself should be extinct, and I will take a step toward that end right now!”
Nadav threw his arms and open hands out before him as if to push an enemy who stood just in front of him. A great black, semi-transparent cloud extended from his open hands and billowed toward Geoff, who stood fearfully of the approaching magic. Even Menak shuddered as it enveloped the boy, well aware of the fate about to befall him. Geoff stood in the center of the cloud, at first frightened almost completely out of his senses. His fear began to abate after a moment, as it was clear that the magic had no effect on him, at least no more effect than a slight tickling sensation.
Geoff began to laugh as Nadav dropped his hands to his sides and the pestilent cloud dissipated. He laughed mirthlessly at the seething emperor and his obvious frustration. It seemed that Rael’s stories of Dahken resistance to Loszian necromancy were true, and now Geoff would have his turn at dealing death. He quieted his laughs and sat peacefully on the carpeted floor, lowering his head and closing his eyes in concentration. He focused his mind into the sound of his heartbeat and felt his essence pour from his body into the open air. Within seconds, his blood ghast, seven feet of animate blood and death, stood at the bottom of Nadav’s steps.
“Protect your sovereign!” Nadav screamed as he backed away.
Geoff’s essence bounded up the steps three at a time, but it only managed to reach halfway before bodies closed in about it. Armored soldiers rushed from all parts of the hall, but they were still precious seconds from intercepting the threat. Also, several dozen shambling forms, corpses and skeletons animated by magic moved in from the dark places of the room, but they were even slower. Unexpectedly to Geoff, it was the slaves that slowed him from reaching his target. While they were all children, none of them even half the ghast’s size, the sheer mass of their combined bodies prevented him from closing any further. They grabbed a hold of his arms and hung limply and wrapped themselves around his torso and legs. He backhanded one hard and heard its body thud sickeningly at the bottom of the steps, and another he kicked in he face - a small boy whose neck snapped instantly. A third was shorn clear in half by the ghast’s great sword, her blood and innards spilling everywhere to stain the steps and make them slippery. A fourth was decapitated by the return stroke.
Nadav’s guards, armored in black plates over chainmail, rushed in to the attack, and the child slaves released the ghast in attempts to slink away from the battle. Geoff’s essence hewed through the first soldier with one blow and immediately turned to find itself facing several others. It fought with blazing speed and cold detachment as it spilled blood, heedless of the blows that landed upon its body.
Menak watched from the side of the hall with great interest, but it was Geoff’s prone form, not the battle that held his gaze. He watched as the ghast was struck, a wound appeared on the boy’s body. The wound did not bleed, as if all the blood was gone from him to form the creature, and it healed just as quickly as it appeared when the ghast stru
ck its foes. Menak drew a dagger from beneath his blood red robes. It was a ceremonial weapon with a wickedly curved blade and a gold hilt inlaid with precious gems, deadly sharp, but clearly not meant for combat. He rushed over to the boy’s still body and knelt down beside him with the thought that he could end the battle now before it got out of hand, as it threatened to do.
For a moment, the ghast’s instincts overrode Geoff’s conscious thought, its most basic of which was to protect Geoff’s physical form. The thing ceased its fighting and leapt from its place halfway up the dangerously slick, blood soaked steps. The distance to where Menak knelt over Geoff, dagger in hand, was easily twenty feet away with a drop of a good ten feet, and the ghast landed lightly and easily to stand over them both. Menak froze for just a moment, looking up at the menacing ghast above him. He regained his senses just in time as he fell to his left, narrowly avoiding the massive red blade as it struck the stone floor where he just knelt. Menak turned and scrambled to his feet; as he retreated, hot ripping pain tore through his left leg, and he collapsed forward onto his belly, suddenly no longer able to run or even stand. Nadav’s guards and undead servants now surrounded Geoff’s ghast as Menak’s life poured from the stump just below his left hip.
“Enough!” thundered Nadav’s voice; he again stood at the top of the black steps. “Dahken Geoff, I demand that you end this. You may destroy many more of my servants, but you will die in the end. I know you can hear me, and I promise peace between us.”
The ghast stood on the balls of its feet unmoving for several seconds, and both of its hands stayed on its great red blade, ready to strike. It even seemed to breathe heavily as if from exertion, its great torso rising and falling. Finally, it began to dissolve, streaming back to Geoff’s body from whence it had come. As the threat dissipated, Nadav became distinctly aware of the cries of the dying around him, including Lord Menak.
The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel Page 16
