"What does that mean?"
"I don't advise dwelling on it... I've no time to explain the history of the King." Master Vhelan showed her the sequence of movements her fingers needed to follow in order to cast the spell, and the words to chant to deliver the stunning magic. "Now practice on me...don't look worried, the spell won't hurt me. It will merely stun me for a few seconds. Go ahead."
So Sebine obeyed and flourished her fingers and spoke the words at Master Vhelan. Soon a shimmering appeared around the sorcerer's head and with dizzy eyes, the man appeared mesmerized for a count of over ten seconds. Shaking his head, Master Vhelan focused his eyes on Sebine.
"How long did the stunning spell last?"
"Over ten seconds at my count. Did I do something wrong?"
Master Vhelan shrugged and seemed surprised by her answer. "Over ten seconds? That's more than three times the length of the other sorcerers who've practiced the same spell on me. If true, we might have a real chance of killing the King, with magic as the means to enable a fighter to slay him with a special sword."
"And you have such a fighter who is capable of killing the King in such a short period of time, unnoticed?"
"Of course we do, otherwise we would have never begun executing our plan tonight. And we have it on good word that his ancient sword, a ghoulsbane, will be returned to him tonight by a certain Bishop allied with our cause."
What? Was he talking about Tael? How could the Hakkadians known who he was? Then it hit her: they had spies everywhere and had followed her to the festival where she met him. They knew who he was and had him tracked down. Or maybe they'd been following him all along after he met and impressed the Bishop. This had all been one huge setup from the start.
"Your young friend Tael Shalinor loves you, and would do anything for you. And besides, he despises the King for killing his parents. The real question is whether his grandfather will succeed in rousing the wizards of the Arcanum to action. We doubt it. Likely he'll continue his wanderings far and wide, in search of potions and relics to aid him."
The sorcerer aimed a finger at the earth. "From what we've discovered in Naverstrom, perhaps the only weapon powerful enough to slay King Braxion—spawn of the Witch Koroshen—is that sword in your friend's possession. And with his slaying the Witch will return to the land—enraged—and seek vengeance. Only thus can we draw her out of her lair."
Sebine's puzzled face caused Master Vhelan to sooth her with a waving of his hand. "This is a many ages story, of the dark elves and the Princes of Naverstrom, and of the ancient Kings and high elves who fought them. We Hakkadians are just travelers, storytellers, and seekers of balance, and were long ago caught in a web found deep in the caves of Naverstrom. Soon we aim to free ourselves from the clutches that have bound us for over two hundred years. Though some of the younger of our kind still living in the caves have been seduced by the promise of power that the Princes of Naverstrom offer."
"And what of my father, what of the dark elves? Where do they stand in this struggle?" Was her father a dark elf, or a half-elf like Dakar? Or something altogether different...
"Your father is allied with us in this cause...his composition and alliance in the elven realm we cannot comment on. You will have to seek him out yourself and ask him. He is not alone in this effort, as there are others in the elven realm who are allied with him. Perhaps your mother can tell you more. But for now we must make haste and go...the time is right."
Master Vhelan flicked fingers towards the floor and a swirling, silvery portal appeared, its center filled with the faces of demons and tortured souls. Sebine shivered at its appearance and from the sulfuric wind that wafted out from within its depths. She forced down her stomach and kept herself from vomiting at the vile smell.
"Step inside and take possession of your vow to aid us. We will go where the dragons roost at night and prepare ourselves to rule over the skies. The King slumbers, drunk to a stupor, and shall rise in the morning to see his despised city in chaos and his dragons gone."
The small sorcerer strode towards the portal and glancing back, disappeared inside. Sebine followed, feeling the churning and twisting of her body from the portal's power, and on the other side witnessed the first plumes of fire jet into the sky.
The Arcanum was under attack.
Chapter Twenty-Five
"HOW DO YOU know of my grandfather?" Tael realized his voice was shrill and made an effort to calm himself. All along the Bishop had known who he was? Did he recognize him from a painting, or somehow cross paths with his family?
Bishop Draven grinned and heaved himself up to stand, grunting in the process. "My family has known of your family for years. We never liked the fact that your parents were murdered. And you, a child of twelve forced to live life on the run. I couldn't believe my good fortune when I found you in Perinith, fighting for your life...crazily fearless against the ghoul. You would have made your father proud, I know he would have been so proud of you. You've turned out to be a fine young man. Strong and stubborn and just as foolish as your grandfather."
He chuckled and slapped Tael on the shoulder, wagging his head from side-to-side. "Killed a ghoul and two Hakkadian sorcerers...amazing. Your father trained you well with the sword—that strange dancing style he was known for, and your grandfather taught you well in the art of magical stealth. I was watching the fight from my alcove overlooking the square, watching and waiting for Master Loral to die."
The Bishop paused, as if waiting for the weight of his words to sink in. "And you popped up from nowhere, hiding in shadows, and sliced the fucking Hakkadian in the neck. The little bastard-spawn didn't even know what hit him as you chopped off his hideous head. Now you know! Never chop off the head...little squat-faced demons get their revenge, even in death..."
What next? Draven knew who he was and was in league with the Hakkadians? Of course, his family ruled the north and was likely tainted as the Hakkadians traveled through their lands, trying to secure influence in the Kingdom. Was he friend or foe in this struggle?
"And now comes the part where I make you a proposition." The Bishop snorted and blew the chunky contents of his nostrils into a silk handkerchief he had withdrawn from his pocket. "Your friend, Princess Sebine, is likely preparing to vault the skies aloft a dragon right now. Secured by Master Vhelan, the leader over all Hakkadian forces in the city, is her red dragon, and a black dragon yours—if you agree to help aid us in our quest to kill the King. You'll finally get the revenge you've been dreaming of...."
Revenge. The word sounded sweet spoken from the mouth of Bishop Draven. And didn't Tael want revenge against the King for ordering the death of his parents? And a dragon of his own, was it really true? But what about his grandfather and his connection with the Arcanum? Would he one-day help save Master Loral's life and the next day be asked to kill him?
If the Hakkadians were allied with Bishop Draven against the King, and they held the power over the control of the dragons, then they could make good on such a promise. The idea of having his own dragon tantalized his imagination, firing images of him soaring high through the lazy, massive clouds wafting across the sky. It wasn't just a dream anymore. What the Bishop was offering to him now was real.
"But it is possible...is there a way to kill the King? Many have tried and died miserably." Tael's voice was skeptical.
"The Hakkadians believe it is feasible with the help of the Princess, well, really you and Princess Sebine working together to slay the King. They have a plan that I trust they will execute fanatically...with our assistance, of course." Draven released a small laugh. "And my gold."
"And once we slay the King, will the Princess and I be allowed to keep control of our dragons?"
The Bishop spread his hands wide in a gesture of incredulity. "Why of course you will. The Hakkadians have no use for them. I would not doubt that the dragons might even return far to the northlands, to the mountains whence they came from. They've no love for the stench of the city."
&nb
sp; "But they do love the gold." Tael made his voice sly and knowing, and the Bishop nodded gravely in response.
"That they do. Good reason the King stores vast amounts of gold in the nests atop the palace. Helps to weave the web tighter of the magic that binds them to the Hakkadians. Alas...soon the King will find all that erased by the snap of a finger and the whisper of words in the dark. So are you with us?" The Bishop hefted up his chest in a massive inhalation and his face beamed a long-suppressed eagerness that seemed as if he was only now able to express.
Tael considered his options and realized that regardless of whether of not he despised allying himself with the Hakkadians and a Bishop of the Calathian Church, at this point he had no better prospects. The only thing he regretted was not being able to talk with his grandfather before proceeding with the plan.
"Any scheme that involves killing the King...you can count on my full support." Tael reached out and shook hands with Bishop Draven, who grinned in proud response.
"Then it's settled. We've no time to lose as the Hakkadians have likely already begun attacking key points in the city. Follow me, we need to quickly retrieve your sword and pack."
The big Bishop bounded off down the hallway outside his chambers, and Tael trotted after him, surprised by the man's vivaciousness and speed. They reached a guarded room and Draven motioned for a knight to unlock the iron door. Inside, Tael found an armory filled with a proud collection of halberds, lances, various kinds of swords, maces, axes, daggers, throwing knives, and shields of all kind. Off to the far side of the room the knight unlocked another door and the Bishop retrieved Balensaar and Tael's pack.
As Tael felt the coolness of the sword's hilt in his hands he found a brutal smile creep over his face. He imagined the steel sinking deep into King Braxion the Bovine's body, and watching his ugly, stout figure collapse onto a pool of his own tainted blood. Was this truly about to happen tonight, or even better, in the light before dawn, to usher in a new, purified era for the Kingdom?
"Do you require a shield, young supplicant?" The gaunt knight with stringy neck muscles studied him in the torchlight of the armory.
"The style my father taught me requires full focus on the blade and its movements. I need no shield."
The knight nodded, forehead crinkled in surprise, and Tael understood that the training of all knights required shield with sword and lance. Only a few masters had learned the water dancing style of the blade. And none from what Tael's grandfather had said also possessed the knowledge of manipulating shadows with magic.
"Then let's be off...we've a long night ahead." Bishop Draven strode back down the hallway and out the entrance, where the two guarding knights stiffened in attention at their approach.
"Knight Kealian? You'll come with us while the others will stand guard outside. I've need of your blade this bleak night." The Bishop gestured to the stern knight, who responded with a terse nod. Knight Kealian was on the side of the Bishop and likely prepared for war. Perhaps this was why the soldier gave reference to fighting darkness in the depths of Naverstrom. He likely was no friend of King Braxion...
The three of them stalked through the torch lit streets, Kealian taking point, his steel-helm-clad head scanning the area for danger. From what Tael could tell of the city, they were headed towards the Arcanum. The palace, a looming, dark monstrosity past the cathedral, had black shadows slipping off and into the air from the roof. The dragons had launched themselves in flight. Which one carried Princess Sebine?
As Tael craned his neck and squinted, trying to spot the silhouettes of the dragons, Kealian barked out a command and a squad of soldiers waiting down a dark alley marched over and joined up with them. Tael recognized them as knights of the Order from the insignias on their breastplates. They continued and additional squads of knights formed up until their numbers reached an entire company of men. Dragon shadows swept over the streets—so many silent, menacing shadows that sent waves of terror and excitement coursing through Tael's pounding heart.
Soon they reached the Arcanum, that ancient library and school of the mysteries of magic, its massive white marble stones reflecting bits of the pale light from the waxing crescent moon. Scores of serpent-like shapes circled over the Arcanum's black and silver dome, and when the dragons banked left or right in practicing dives, Tael could see figures mounted atop the creatures holding reins of brilliant light. There was a feeling of electricity in the air, like the moment when you watch dark clouds surrounding a hill and peals of lighting burst across the sky. The moment of cascading violence was near.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HANDS GRIPPED TIGHT on the dragon's luminous reins, Sebine pressed herself down against the leather saddle and felt a quickening thrill pulse through her veins as she dove from the sky, eyes locked on the white marble of the Arcanum. The King will die tonight. Those words she kept repeating in her mind as she would a mantra, sending every fiber of her body to join up and fight to make the words come true.
Yet still she worried about being pulled even deeper into the Hakkadian's web of obligation. Was the story that Master Vhelan told her really true? Were they indeed victims of being snared in the clutches of the Princes of Naverstrom? Or was it all a ruse to gain sympathy and an alliance? Sebine clicked her tongue in frustration. If she was under blood oath to the Hakkadians, would they even bother telling lies? Not likely.
Spiraling streams of smoke and fire catapulted from the dragon-mounted sorcerers and found purchase on thin, jutting minarets rising from the many corners of the Arcanum. In agonizing, distant voices she heard the screams of wizards guarding their home, incinerated in a cruel moment. Other diving, determined dragons poured forth waves of brutal acid that melted weak wooden areas of the Arcanum's structure. And yet another round of fire-breathing dragons followed and cascading flames shot up into the sky from gaping holes in the damaged structure, where the fires found frenzied purchase. Thick, black smoke from the blaze smothered the skies.
Below, the ground came quickly into view as her red dragon followed Master Vhelan's massive gold dragon as it dove through the wall of smoke and landed on the stone street. The courtyard facing the Arcanum's enormous stone doors was filled with several squads of soldiers, faces tense and alert, hands on sword and shield, ready for battle.
Master Vhelan dismounted in a smooth, arcing flight and landed at the head of the company, and was soon joined by several other sorcerers. The sky off to the side of the smoke still contained scores of serpentine shapes, and from her master's plan Sebine knew that the remaining sorcerers were preparing additional strikes away from the main engagement with the wizards of the Arcanum.
"There are ancient magical wards set around the Arcanum." Master Vhelan aimed a bony finger at the stone doors. "In particular there, at the entrance, the stones set at the base contain the largest quantity of protective runes, and above, at the keystone, that shimmering stone is the most powerful of them all."
Sebine frowned at the collection of the sorcerers and soldiers gathered in front of the Arcanum. Why was it so important for them to attack here first? If their target was the King, why not just go after him first? Master Vhelan must have caught her confused expression, because he motioned for her to join him up at the head of the group.
"Your help is needed, Princess Sebine." The sorcerer raised his hands into the air and looked at the sky. There, descending through the smoky clouds, were fifteen enormous stone blocks each the size of a small house. In the middle of the collection of blocks was a gorgon-headed battering ram made of shimmering steel. She was in awe at the Hakkadian's ability to move such massive weights.
"Only physical force can open those doors. Magic is useless there." He flourished his fingers and caused the stone blocks to assemble one behind the other on the plaza. "With our combined force and the leverage of the stone blocks we'll smash open those gates."
"Why attack the Arcanum?" Sebine was almost afraid to ask the question, but at Master Vhelan's patient expression she fe
lt perhaps it was the right thing to say.
"Because the King is protected by two powers," the sorcerer whispered, his face a bit worried as he glanced around at the soldiers. "The Arcanum and the Princes of Naverstrom. We need to remove both barriers to slay him."
Sebine tilted her head in contemplation of the man's words. Why would the Arcanum help the King? It made no sense at all. Unless they were forced to craft some charm or amulet to offer protection to the King. But why would they help him? From all she had heard the wizards of the Arcanum despised the King. What power did the King hold over the wizards that could cause them to help him?
The big boom of the battering ram sounded and shook the square with a deep, reverberating echo. The doors didn't budge and from what Sebine could see, weren't damaged at all. More sorcerers landed near the others until a score joined forces and linked their power, pushing and pulling the ram in thundering blows. Sebine had to stop herself from laughing in dismay as all the countless strikes from the ram failed to even scratch the stone door.
Master Vhelan appeared flustered as he looked querulously at the other confused sorcerers. "The runes were supposed to only protect against magic."
"Clearly that's not the case," Sebine said, trying to keep her voice humble. "Might I offer a suggestion?"
The crowd of soldiers gathered around shuffled in their rigid, ready position, as if anxious for the fight to begin. Even the sorcerer's once early vigor from victories striking the minarets and the wooden portions of the Arcanum seemed diffused and uncertain. All the assembled group's energy now focused on Master Vhelan.
"Please do share any insights you might have." The sorcerer beckoned Sebine towards the front of the assembly.
She strode forward, ignoring the stares and quiet whispers aimed at her while she walked. In her mind she'd thought to first tell them her solution, but something condescending in Master Vhelan's tone made her want to show them what she believed might work. With raised hands she focused on the thirty-foot-long ridged and spiraling steel battering ram. Remembering the lesson Master Vhelan had taught her, she anchored herself against the stone blocks behind, the stone below, and the stone doors ahead. She was ready.
Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) Page 17
