“Don’t feel well?” Cor asked, feeling stupid for the question as she sat immediately to his right.
“No,” she said.
The cooking fires at Fort Haldon raged from sunup to sundown to feed over a thousand people two if not three meals each day, and as such, it was only a matter of minutes before a porter placed a large plate of food in front of Thyss. She stared at it for a moment and then proceeded to poke a piece of roasted pork with a small knife. Discarding the idea, she instead bisected a tuber that looked as if it had been fried in oil and picked up one half with a thumb and forefinger. As quickly as she placed it in her mouth, Thyss violently pushed away from the table. Rushing from the table, she fell to her knees after about ten feet and vomited onto the bare foundation. Cor moved to her side, but she pushed him away angrily and wiped her mouth with her wool sleeve.
“Damn you Hykan!” she screamed to the heavens. Standing, she strode to the table while drawing her wicked blade. In a great two handed strike, full of rage and fury, she stabbed her sword’s point down onto the middle of the plate, shattering it into a half dozen shards. The gleaming green steel pierced the thick mahogany of the tabletop, penetrating deeply. Thyss stormed away, her sword imbedded in the wood, leaving Cor and Marya to stare after her. Cor looked back at Marya, who merely shrugged and returned her attention to her own breakfast.
Cor later found Thyss in their bed, still clothed as she was and curled into a fetal ball. Her scabbard with its leather strap lay discarded on the floor, and Cor gently slid her sword back into it and leaned it against the wall near the bed. When he sat next to her on the straw mattress, he realized that she cried silently. Never once had he ever seen Thyss cry, and Cor felt surprised that she was even capable of such.
“What do you want?” she asked in a mumble full of venom.
“I’m just worried about you, worried if you are well.”
“Of course not you gray skinned bastard!” she lashed out, sitting upright. Cor was used to Thyss’ harsh emotions and reactions; it was her way, but this was different. Her flawless bronze face was a visage of fury and disgust, and at this moment, he could feel it all directed at him.
“What did I do?” he asked as he reached up to caress her face.
She slapped his hand away. “You have to ask that? How stupid are you Dahken Cor? Do you understand nothing of women? For fifty years Hykan has given me power over fire and dominion over my own body, but now he has forsaken me! He has allowed your demon seed to quicken inside me!”
Cor stared at her blankly, dumbly, for a moment before his eyes cleared in understanding of what she said. The thought had never occurred to him. On the farm, most children learned of such things naturally, as farmers tended to have many children. His parents had never had another child, perhaps for fear of another sickly babe, and certainly the priests would just as soon explain conception as Garod’s will and nothing more. What Cor knew of it all, he had learned on the open sea, listening to bawdy sailors talk of their wives and children at home and their whores and sweethearts abroad. The sudden thought of being a father made him want to piss his armor, and he didn’t know why.
Thyss belched, an odor of vomit suddenly in the air, and she laid back into the position in which he had found her. “My body betrays me. Hykan has forsaken me,” she repeated.
Cor dropped off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling so that his face was level with hers. “I love you,” he said. “What can I do?”
“Leave me to my misery.”
Thyss stayed in bed and slept nearly the entire day, only once coming out into the afternoon sun to eat a very small meal of bread and cheese. She considered eating again in the evening, but the smell of cooking meat again evoked nausea. It was at night, as they both lay in bed awake in frightened consideration of parenthood, that something Thyss said came to Cor’s mind.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What,” she said in sullen expectation. It seemed her fiery anger had abated for the time.
“You’re fifty years old?” he asked.
“You have no manners, Dahken Cor,” she stated. “You were never told not to ask a lady her age?”
“Manners have never seemed to be a concern of yours,” he answered dryly, lightly poking her side below the ribcage with a forefinger. She elbowed him forcefully in response.
“I stopped counting,” Thyss said with a sigh, “but I’m at least sixty years old.”
“Really!” he exclaimed, and he received another elbow for it, this one much harder. “I’m sorry. It just surprised me.”
“Gods, you can be stupid sometimes,” she said as she leaned up on one elbow to face him. Thyss could barely make out the hurt on his face. “How old was Rael? How old is Queen Erella? If you don’t get yourself killed first, you will live well over a hundred years yourself, perhaps even two hundred. Dahken Cor, you of all people should know that those of us gifted by the gods outlive the others. Sometimes, it amazes me how much you still think like a Westerner. You must learn to think like a Dahken, like a giant among ants.”
She kissed him hard on the mouth and then flipped over onto her side, her back to him. As Cor listened to her breathing slow, he wondered what it would be like for two giants to raise a normal child of mixed race, half Western and half Dulkurian. Somehow, it didn’t seem right for them to stay young as their child grew up, aged, became frail and died, and as Cor drifted off to sleep, a feeling of deep sadness washed over him.
21.
The ride from Byrverus to Fort Haldon, and then back again after only one day’s reprieve, had not been kind to Aidan’s substantial backside. He had never been one for horses, but he didn’t have to be, considering that he never left his beloved white city. However, it was his pride that was truly offended, making his face as red and angry as his rear. Pride or otherwise, this Cor person was a danger to Aquis and Garod, and Aidan would make certain that Queen Erella understood just how perilous was the matter.
As he rode back to Byrverus, the entire affair became more distorted in his mind, and his memory of the happenings mutated into something vaguely recognizable as what actually occurred. He remembered a fully armored and battle ready antagonist, who swore and shouted blood oaths to Dahk and other foul gods. This figure threatened to stick him with a longsword while waiving a skull headed fetish in the air, saying that he would make a blood sacrifice of the poor innocent priest. Aidan looked to the queen’s architect (Karl was his name?) for help, but he could see that the poor man was as powerless and frightened as he. In the end, Aidan was saved only by a misstep, having tripped over a large rock that lay on the ground just behind him as he backed away from the murderous Dahken. That led him to roll in a most undignified way down the hill, but at least it saved his life. He ran for his belongings and horse while Cor laughed maliciously from on high, and he rode hard away from Fort Haldon. He dared not look back for fear that the Dahken may chased him down with his sword in hand.
All this, Aidan told Queen Erella, relating the entire story moment by moment with as much detail as he could muster in her main hall, in front of a crowd. Occasionally, he would return to an earlier detail to elaborate more fully, and he watched as Erella’s face remained passive, all except for her eyes. Her eyes betrayed her true thoughts, as they widened momentarily when Aidan explained Cor’s plan to erect a temple to both Dahk and the Loszian gods. As he depicted the culmination of their brief meeting, the queen’s face turned hard and smoldering, and Aidan knew she finally understood. The assembled guards, commoners, lords and priests spoke in frenetic hushed tones to one another, having turned fully against Lord Dahken Cor on just Aidan’s word, until Erella called them to silence.
“What would you have me do now, Majesty?” Aidan asked after finishing his tale.
“Return to your duties attending Byrverus with my thanks,” she said. “Your faith and loyalty in this matter and all others is widely noted by all and Garod.”
“May I offer further assistance in this
matter?” he asked, bowing his head in a practiced move of fealty.
“No, good Aidan. I will summon Lord Dahken Cor to court and consult with Palius while I await his arrival,” she replied.
“He will always be your loyal servant, Majesty. I prayed for Palius’ health over the weeks I was away.”
“No doubt you did,” she said softly, and Erella stood from her throne. As everyone, Aidan included, bowed in her presence, she purposefully crossed the hall and exited toward her chambers. Within minutes she had signed and sealed an order for Lord Dahken Cor to return to Byrverus in haste, as there was an important matter to be discussed that could not wait. She dispatched a rider with the authority to use the queen’s horses as necessary and stalked the halls to find Palius.
Of course, Erella knew precisely where he would be, as the poor man never left his own chambers anymore. Everyone in the palace knew that his time grew short, and Palius rarely even left his bed except to use a pot. As she entered, she found him sitting upright in bed reading a large leather bound tome, and the room was sweltering with its ever present roaring fire, despite that it was a warm spring day.
“Majesty!” Palius exclaimed at her entry, and he was positively beaming, though he wheezed heavily as he spoke. “For what affair do you require counsel that you would visit a dying man?”
“I wish I could say that I was here for pleasure only, that I did not need your counsel on any matter,” she replied as she pushed a chair to his bedside and sat upon its velvet cushion. “You are rather cheerful for a man who says he is dying.”
“My queen, I know I am dying and so do you, so lets not insult each other with such words,” he replied, placing a slightly shaking hand on hers. “But to answer you, I find that since you no longer need me for daily duties, I have much time on my hands. I’ve never taken the time to read for pleasure before.”
“What is that?’ she asked, pointing to the tome he had set to the side.
“Oh, theological essays by Kris-something.”
“Kristonn,” Erella said. “He was one of the first priests of Garod, a child found and taught by Werth, and he helped Werth liberate the West during The Cleansing.”
“Majesty, what is the matter at hand?” Palius asked. “I’m sorry, but you are not here to discuss my leisure reading or the history of the Shining West.”
Erella sighed. “I sent Aidan to Fort Haldon. I wanted him to have a temple built there and make certain that our Lord Dahken paid proper reverence to Garod.”
“A prudent idea Majesty, if for no other reason than to extricate Lord Aidan from the all consuming politics in which he tends to involve himself.”
“That was not my intent,” she shot back.
“Of course not, Majesty. I assume things did not go well?” he asked.
“You well know that if it had, I wouldn’t be here now,” the queen replied, and she related everything Aidan had said to the best of her memory. Palius pinched his nose and closed his eyes as she spoke, his chest rumbling as he breathed deeply through his nose. When she finished, he did not move for at least a minute, momentarily causing the queen to wonder if he had fallen asleep. Finally, he opened one bloodshot eye and looked at her worried face.
“No Majesty, I am not asleep, nor dead quite yet,” Palius said. “It would seem that our good Lord Aidan has yet again made a spectacle as he is often wont. I have no doubt he has embellished the story, and he chose to relate it publicly to cause the people to stand against Lord Dahken Cor.”
“I am afraid that is my fault. I called him to court to give him his task publicly.”
“Ah,” Palius said with a nod. “But my queen, if even a quarter of what he says is true, then the Dahken has ignored a direct command from Your Majesty. And if half of what Aidan says is true, then we have been betrayed, and Cor assaulted one of Garod’s preeminent priests.”
“I know Palius,” Erella said with a sigh as she slumped back in the chair. “You tried to warn me months ago, and I am afraid I was blinded by what might have been. I have dispatched orders to Fort Haldon, demanding Cor’s presence in Byrverus immediately. I do not think we’re compatible, the Dahken and the Shining West, and I am afraid that at the least I will have to exile he and his ilk from Aquis.”
“Majesty, that day may come, but for now let me read to you from Kristoff,” Palius said, lifting the heavy tome back into his lap.
“Kristonn.”
* * *
His queen had sat with him for a good while longer than he had expected, listening as Palius read ecclesiastical essay after essay. She was rather silent with only an occasional comment, though she was attentive. Palius had no doubt that Erella had been an excellent student, likely the pride of her tutors and priests when she was a child at least fifty years before his birth. He had never loved her more than he did while she sat with him, making time for her dying advisor and friend, despite their recent disagreements. Eventually, he feigned massive fatigue and exhaustion, and she left him to rest.
Loyal to Erella and Aquis to the end, Palius would protect them as he had always protected them, even if it were the last action he took in this life. She had little notion of the things he had done over the decades, or if she did, she did not voice it. Sometimes things had to be done, and it was better if his beautiful queen did not have to bloody her hands with such actions. Palius thought of Aidan, and he wondered if the corpulent priest would be up to the task at hand, if his conscience would allow it. No; Aidan’s way was the way of politicians and their entangled webs of deceit, favors and beholden tasks. Palius was far more direct; pay the right person to do a job, and it gets done.
It wasn’t that Palius actually believed Aidan’s narrative as related by Queen Erella. He had no doubt that the priest had embellished it, but to what extent he was not sure. However, Aidan failed at his task, and he had failed quite thoroughly, which only meant that something close to what he described had happened. In the end, it only reinforced one simple fact, a fact that Palius had known for quite some time; this Dahken Cor and his kind were dangerous and untrustworthy, and it was time to solve the Dahken problem.
Larnd had sent assassins the first time, professionals at striking down persons unaware in the dark, and they had failed miserably. All they had managed to do was put Cor on the defensive, and he immediately made plans to segregate his people into their own enclosure. Additionally, he had halted or at least slowed severely the flow of new troops to Fort Haldon. It was time for something more direct, overpowering, and the timing was perfect. Cor would be away from his protection at Fort Haldon as he crossed miles of open country on his way to Byrverus.
Palius pushed himself from his bed and sat on its edge, and his bare feet hovered several inches over the rug. He pushed himself off slowly until his feet touched the floor gingerly. It was something he did every time he arose from bed, and when he was sure that his legs would still support his weight, Palius slowly walked to the corner of the room that held his chamber pot.
Once relieved, he tottered to the adjacent chamber that still held his desk, where he handled state business. He stopped briefly as he passed a mirror, suddenly aware that he hadn’t shaved in months, and his beard was several inches long at his chin, scraggly and inconsistent. The top of his head was completely bald now, and the white hair around the sides and back of his head was extremely long and unkempt. The combination of his beard and hair lent him a particularly insane appearance, like that of some poor homeless old man.
Palius sat at his desk, which had gone unused for months ever since Queen Erella had pointedly stopped asking for his help in state affairs. He arranged its surface with blank parchment, ink and pen and wax to seal the message he began to compose mentally. Palius started to write a message to Laird, but found it a difficult task as he halted every several words. He folded the parchment in half and started again, this time intent on sending the message to Marek. He found this no easier however and again folded the parchment, placing it to the side after only
two words.
Palius leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and pinched his nose as he tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t possibly make the journey through the city to Marek or Larnd; beyond the fact of his failing health, it would raise many eyebrows to see him about the palace and even leaving it. He couldn’t write a letter directly to Larnd because he couldn’t trust anyone to deliver it safely to one of the kings of Byrverus’ underworld. In fact a message of any kind just seemed unsafe at this point, which meant Palius needed to send for one of the men to come to the palace. Marek was the obvious choice as the cutthroat was a master of disguise, and no one would guess him to be Larnd’s brother, a former soldier and murderer of notably ill repute.
Opening his eyes, Palius pushed away from his desk and picked up the two failed letters. He shambled his way to his fireplace, the blaze now reduced to hot coals and cinders. He still had a small amount of fuel available, and he dropped a piece of tinder onto the iron rack, lighting it painstakingly with flint. As the fire caught and grew steady, he caught the corners of the parchment sheets in the open flame. The dry parchment lit easily, and he held it in front of his face, watching the fire grow and move across its surface. When it was half consumed, Palius dropped the burning parchment onto the flaming tinder, and he reached to the side for a small piece of split wood, which he added to the small blaze.
He stood and went back to his bed, wheezing somewhat with the exertion of it all. Most certainly, he would not make it to the palace’s doors, much less into the city somewhere, without collapsing. Lying down, he reached for a small bronze bell that he kept on the table at his bedside for use when his breath would not allow him to call for the guards. Mere seconds after he rang the bell, one of the soldiers who stood outside his chambers entered. “Get me Sergeant Holt,” Palius said to the man.
The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel Page 19
