The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel

by Martin V. Parece II

  “I won’t let you,” he said again.

  “Perhaps Palius was right after all! You won’t let me?” Erella all but screamed at him. “Leave now, Lord Dahken Cor, and take your Dahken with you. Leave Byrverus and prepare for Aidan’s arrival so that he may oversee the building of a proper temple for Our Lord. Leave now or meet Thyss’ fate with her.”

  Cor opened his mouth to answer and shut it again, looking silently at the ancient woman who stood solidly before him. Her face, infused with anger, had taken on an aspect akin to granite, and her eyes were cold and uncaring. She would not compromise; she would not argue the matter further. Queen Erella had made her decision, and his muscles knew it was time to act. It all happened so fast, though in his mind’s eye it seemed to take hours, and as slow as he moved, some part of him wondered why no one was able to stop him.

  As Cor bounded over the great oak desk, a feat that required more strength than he knew he had, he could hear the battle song of Soulmourn and Ebonwing fill his being, drowning out all other sound as he became one with them. His gauntleted left hand grasped the old woman by the throat, and his forward momentum sent her falling backward into her chair, crashing it to the stone floor and breaking its back with the force of the impact. The thin, delicate skin of her neck ripped on the rough chain of the gauntlets, and her hands immediately flew to her throat in unsuccessful attempts to pry his fingers loose.

  Queen Erella tried to scream, tried to gasp for breath, but nothing could pass. For a brief moment, Cor was distracted as something impacted his hauberk with the clanging ring of steel; he let up just long enough for the queen to take in a sliver of precious air. It wasn’t enough as her face turned blue, and her eyes began to bulge outward, partially in realized terror that she was powerless to stop him.

  The white hot pain of cold steel ripped into Cor’s back under his hauberk, piercing deep into his abdomen, all the way through until it impacted the inside of the front of his hauberk, and Cor felt his life blood pour from him. It fueled his fury like throwing oil on an open flame, and incredible strength poured into his sinews. Erella’s eyes went dark as he crushed her windpipe, and bright red blood sprayed across the invisible surface of his helm as his mailed fingers sank into her neck, rending arteries and veins.

  Using his foot against Cor’s back for leverage, the guard yanked his sword free, and Cor felt even more of his blood run from what should be a killing blow. But as Queen Erella’s blood continued to spill onto her carpeting, Cor could feel his own ruptured organs and torn flesh seal themselves whole again. He gained his feet slowly and turned to face the man who dared strike him, having drawn Soulmourn in the process. The guard, one of Queen Erella’s elite palace guards, dropped his sword and turned in horror, hoping to flee, but Lord Dahken Cor cut him down mercilessly from behind.

  Cor ran for the doors and yanked them open to find Keth and Marya fighting back to back against several more of the Westerners. Three lay dead or dying, but four more bore down upon them. Keth and Marya were splattered with both the blood of their foes and their own as well, but no mark showed upon their bodies. Cor waded into the fray, striking down men who never saw him coming, and the fight was over in moments. As the three calmed for just a moment, Cor realized the buzzing in his ears had cleared, and Soulmourn’s song quieted to low hum.

  “Are you injured Lord Dahken?” Keth asked, motioning his longsword to the massive amount of blood on Cor’s hauberk and legguards, blood that already grew sticky.

  “I’m well. Quickly we must pull them into the queen’s chambers and shut the doors before we’re found by more,” Cor said.

  “A few guards mean nothing to us, my lord. We are Dahken,” Marya said disdainfully.

  Cor sighed. “I know, but we can’t fight the armies of Aquis or even the entire palace guard just the three of us. We have to free Thyss and get out of Byrverus.”

  They set to the task of pulling the slain Westerners into Queen Erella’s chambers, though they could do nothing about the massive pools of spilled blood that had formed. Marya found she was unequal to the task of dragging a fully armored man and instead sauntered inside to investigate Cor’s handiwork. It was fascinating to Cor actually; she could drive a sword through steel plates, but only when her blood was up. Without it, she was still a thirteen year old girl. It was the work of only a few minutes for them to hide the dead guards.

  “You killed her, Lord Dahken,” Marya’s voice said softly from behind them, “the queen of all Aquis, High Priestess of Garod.”

  “Yes,” Cor answered, turning to face her.

  “Good,” Marya said, and Cor saw no mercy in her eyes. “She was an old hag, a weakling compared to us, to Thyss. We owed her nothing.”

  “She was also the closest thing we had to an ally,” Keth said, stoically staring through the entrance to the room in which Queen Erella’s body lay. He could just barely see her slippered feet and the white of her lower legs.

  “We don’t have time for this now,” Cor said shortly. “We have to get to Thyss and find a way out of here without killing everyone in our path.”

  They left the corpses of the queen and her soldiers behind as they exited into the hallway, walking calmly across the palace’s lower level to the stair that led to the holding cells. Cor wanted to charge across, sprint his way to Thyss, partly to reach her as quickly as possible and partly to make their escape briskly. He forced himself, and Marya, to slow down, to walk the halls naturally; three Dahken rushing their way through would likely draw attention, especially as the entire palace was buzzing with word of Palius’ death. On the other hand, Cor knew it was only a matter of time before some passing servant noted that Erella’s sanctum was unguarded with blood spilled without and investigated within. The trio arrived at the dungeon, finding everything unchanged. Cor drew Soulmourn and strode directly to the end of the table at which the men played.

  “Westerners, I have no quarrel with you,” he said, hoping he sounded reasonable. “Unlock that cell and let her out. I don’t want to hurt you, but to keep you quiet I’ll brain you senseless and lock you inside. Someone will find you and let you out.”

  The men, two guards and two jailers, made their decision. A rain of copper coins of little value clinked on the dirty stone floor as battle was joined. The fight did not last long, as the Westerner’s had little chance against three armed and deadly Dahken, to say nothing of Thyss who merely watched with arms crossed from the shadows of her cell. When it was over, Keth handed Thyss’ sword to her through the bars while Cor tried key after key from the jailer’s belt before finally unlocking the iron door made of bars. As the door opened outward to admit Thyss with a squeal from its hinges, a great cry could be heard from the upper level. Keth quickly turned and climbed the stairs two at a time to disappear into the hall at the top.

  “What have you done?” Thyss asked as she fitted the leather strap about her torso.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Cor answered. “Right now, I think we have a bigger problem.”

  After a moment, he returned and said, “They are coming. What now, Lord Dahken?”

  “We fight,” Marya answered quickly and a little too eagerly for Cor’s liking, and he saw the thrill of battle flash through Thyss’ eyes.

  “Then we die,” Cor said, somewhat softening the bloodlust on Marya’s face. “We’ll have to fight through an army of trained soldiers, and there’ll be priests as well. Eventually, we’ll falter, and this will all be for nothing. We need another way out.”

  Marya seemed unconvinced, but it was Thyss who provided the alternative.

  “There is a way out of the palace down here somewhere,” she said. “While you three were gone, apparently securing my freedom, two servants came down here to dump a collection of chamber pots.” Receiving only a blank, uncomprehending stare from the three Dahken, she nearly shouted, “The palace has to have access to Byrverus’ sewers! It must be down here somewhere!”

  The echoing clamor of heavily booted feet and c
langing steel made the decision easy for Cor, and he said, “Thyss, we follow you.”

  Thyss quickly darted down the cellblock, an open hall created by the iron bars of cells on either side. Taking torches, the Dahken followed, leaving the sounds of approaching soldiers behind them. Cor was right in his original assessment of the place - this floor was at least as wide as the main floor of the palace, though it didn’t appear that any of the cages had been used in years. They were all empty and clean of refuse, but not of thick layers of dust that the four of them kicked up as they passed. As they moved further into the disused portion of the dungeon, they knew they followed a well worn trail, a particular path only a few feet wide that was free of dust, despite much of it on either side. The trail ended or rather continued downward at a set of stone steps almost identical to those on the far side from which they had just come, the side from which the sounds of steel clad men now came.

  For a brief moment, a black maw that he remembered as the entrance to Sanctum’s catacombs superimposed itself over the sight before him. He shook his head and closed his eyes, and when he reopened them the image was gone.

  “Down?” Thyss asked.

  “We have no choice. Go!”

  The staircase was not long; Cor counted about ten steps before it turned and continued down for another ten steps. The ceiling was low, and all but Marya had to crouch as they carefully tread the narrow steps down into darkness. They had to hold their torches low, and more than once the flames scraped on the walls in the confined space. Over halfway down, the gray stone blocks of which the walls consisted gave way to natural rock.

  The steps opened into a large cavern, the sides, low ceiling and floor of which had been smoothed away by the hands of stonemasons. There was no light here, except that cast by their torches, and that flickering illumination could not penetrate too far into the depths. Just to the right of the stairway they just exited was another continuing down, but the choking cobwebs and inches of dust on the floor denied that any living soul had passed that way in years. The path through the dust continued ahead between rows of iron bars set into the floor and ceiling. There was a rancid smell here, hanging old and stale in the air.

  As they moved between these cells, Cor noted that these also hadn’t been used in years, decades or even longer, but they weren’t clean and empty like those above. Many of them held remains of long dead souls, nothing but piles of bones now, long picked clean by rodents and the remains of any clothing disintegrated by the ages. This was not only an old dungeon; it was a tomb, a tomb of the unnamed. The smell became thicker and clearer - a stench of urine and feces filled the air, and coupled with the faint sound of trickling water, Cor knew they were close.

  Cor sensed a mild stirring in his blood, a magnetism that he knew all too well, but he ignored it as they quickly but carefully crossed the cavern turned dungeon. However, Marya broke into a run, stunning Thyss to a stop as she charged ahead of the group. Following the feeling led Cor to follow Marya, and he to began to run with Keth just on his heels. He had no idea what lay ahead, what called to them, but he knew it was no living thing.

  The Dahken stopped at one of the iron barred cells, ancient and coated in thick layers of dust. Within lay skeletal remains, nothing but bones wrapped in a few layers of moth and worm eaten cloth that would no doubt crumble on first touch. The remains of the cloth wrapped around the skeleton’s torso was rent open by something other than the ages, a blade perhaps, and it was stained with the color of rust. As they looked, Cor absently noted the air was hard to breathe, full of the putrid stench of piss and shit, and the sound of flowing water was near.

  Thyss sauntered quietly to stand behind them. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Marya answered. “Its something about this man.”

  “He was a Dahken,” Cor said.

  “How do you know?” asked Thyss.

  “I can feel it in his blood,” said Keth as he pointed to the remains’ ancient tunic, seemingly stained with rust. “I can’t explain it.”

  “He’s right,” said Cor.

  “How long do you think he’s been down here?” Marya asked.

  Cor sighed heavily, lowering his eyes to his feet. “A long time, but not long enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is all very interesting,” Thyss interrupted loudly, “but I do not think we have the time. How long do you think before they start exploring down here?”

  “You’re right,” Cor said, turning. “Let’s keep going.”

  “My poor, dim Lord Dahken Cor,” Thyss said softly as she turned to point, “I’m afraid we are here.”

  Following her finger, Cor found a large trench that he guessed to be about four feet deep and wide, through which flowed a disgusting mass of human waste. The flow came out of a tunnel to the north, passed through the trench and then continued through another tunnel to the south. One way or the other, it was a clear escape route from the palace, for no doubt there would be other access points in the city. Between the group and their excremental escape stood floor to ceiling iron bars, spaced about eight inches apart, with no door of any kind through which to pass.

  29.

  “We have no choice now,” Marya said with finality. “We turn and fight our way out.”

  Cor sat on the smooth cavern floor, leaning against the bars with his back to the sewer. He watched as Keth paced the row of bars, occasionally tapping or flicking one to create a dull ring. The younger Dahken paced the entire length twice, and Cor closed his eyes to calm the roaring song that threatened to fill his being. It tried to convince him that Marya was right; they had no choice but to fight and slay their way to freedom, but Cor knew it was suicidal. The battle song had led him to this, and it would not lead him to his end.

  “They just toss everything through the bars, I guess. There is no way past,” Keth said, sitting down next to Cor, and his Lord Dahken threw his head back against the bars, causing his helm to clang loudly. Thyss transfixed him with an exasperated glare.

  Cor jumped to his feet and gripped a bar in each hand. Setting his feet widely, he pulled them in opposite directions, intent on making them bend. His muscles strained and began to burn. Cor focused on Soulmourn and Ebonwing, beseeching them to lend him strength for this challenge rather than fighting an army of Westerners, but the more he called on them, the more their song faded from his mind. He pushed all of his weight against one, followed by the other. Finally exhausted, he opened his eyes and found that the bars had not budged. Cor released his grip on the bars and slumped to the floor, his head resting on the iron.

  “They are wrought iron,” Thyss chided, laughing softly. “What did you expect to happen? Marya’s right, Dahken Cor. If we are to die, let us die in battle.”

  He had done all this to prevent Thyss’ death, and now she resigned herself to it. He’d argued with the queen until he was out of breath, until his rage drove him to her murder. He and his Dahken had killed her guards, innocent Westerners who did nothing but serve their queen, to say nothing of the gaolers. They made their way through an ancient dungeon in the hopes that the servants dumped the palace waste in something more than a drain. They had found a huge tunnel through which to escape, but were prevented by solid, iron bars. Hard, wrought iron bars.

  Cor snapped his head up.

  “No one’s dying today,” he said, standing with new energy. “I can’t bend the bars. They’re too strong, too solid. But if they were softer, I could throw myself against them and make them bend.” Cor pulled his helm off and dropped it to the floor as he approached Thyss, and he could see the understanding crossing her face as he gently touched her cheek with a gauntleted hand.

  “Heating this much metal sustainably is difficult, my love,” she said.

  “I know you can do it, Thyss. I’ve seen you do incredible things; this is nothing to you.”

  “I know I can do it, you gray skinned bastard,” she growled hotly. “Even if I do, how will you bend the bars? Y
ou dare not touch them.”

  “I’ll throw my entire body against them. My armor will protect me well enough,” Cor said.

  “I hope so,” she replied. “Very well, everyone stand back.”

  Cor replaced his helm over his head as Thyss took a wide stance a few yards from the wall of bars. She closed her eyes, and pure serenity crossed her face for just a moment before she reopened them with a look of sheer determination. She concentrated on the center point of the iron barricade, and for easily a minute nothing happened. The Dahken watched as slight red glow blinked into being on one bar and slowly spread in size up and down its length. The redness began to show on the adjacent bars as it expanded from the focal point, which now started to turn orange. Cor launched himself against the bars, jarring himself as his black hauberk and helm made contact with the glowing metal, but he found them still quite solid. Even still, they were extremely hot, and he jerked away from them reflexively.

  A clamor arose from the entrance to the dungeon as the sound of steel clad soldiers entered the far side with a cry of surprise and success. Men wearing the plate of the palace guard poured from the stairs, many carrying torches in lieu of their swords. Even in the gloom several hundred feet away, Cor counted half a score, and they approached cautiously. Facing the threat, Keth and Marya drew steel and shot impatient looks at their Lord Dahken.

  “We can slow them down,” Keth called out, and Marya anxiously shifted her weight between her feet.

  “No, wait,” Cor shouted.

  He again charged the barricade, which now glowed in various shades across a circle roughly four feet across. This time the collision thudded dully instead of the ring of steel on steel, and the bars stretched and bent outward several inches as he rebounded off them. The advancing guards stopped for just a moment, but then broke into a run as realization struck them. Cor pushed his shoulder into the softening iron, heedless of the scorching heat that was dangerously close to his exposed skin, and the iron continued to bulge toward the sewer’s entrance. But not quickly enough.