The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1)

by David L. McDaniel

  “If your message is that important, then you can tell me now!”

  “I cannot, but you can tell him that if he does not talk to me, not only will my people die, but he will miss out on something much greater than any amount of wealth, including some very valuable gems. I have all of this, but more importantly, the information is what he will treasure the most dearly.”

  Sergeant Mourt looked at Kunther despondently.

  “Wait here,” he announced to Kunther. “Do not let him leave your sight,” he said to the guard.

  He made his way reluctantly to tell First Warrior Konrod that he had failed in stopping the stranger and that First Warrior Konrod must go to the High Commander’s chambers and wake him.

  “You wake me for a lone rider?” the High Commander bellowed as he reached for his robe to keep himself warm from the cold and damp air.

  He rubbed his eyes, looked at First Warrior Konrod and saw that although the man was a great warrior, there was a sense of concern for his job in his eyes. Carsti Balron took a deep breath and began again.

  “Relax, First Warrior Konrod. You said this lone rider has a large sum of wealth with him?”

  “Yes, High Commander,” he said showing a little relief from Balron’s quick change of attitude. “He claims to have some information that you will greatly receive. The man is just outside the door. Sergeant Mourt is outside watching him.”

  “Send him to the council chambers. I will meet you and the stranger there after I get dressed and prepare for his offer.”

  ***

  The walk to the council chambers was a long, but well awaited one for Kunther.

  Sergeant Mourt and the First Warrior stood on each side of him as they escorted him through the many turns and stairs of the fortress. The musty smell locked within the walls added to the uneasiness within his stomach which left him feeling nauseous. The damp smell eventually went away as he walked further into the fortress because fires were lit in many of the hearths along the hallways.

  Along the way he walked passed many memorials to valor and honor which decorated the walls. Swords, daggers, shields, pikes, and maces all hung in elaborate fashion as if they’d been stolen from the battlefield still crusted with mud. They were well organized and aligned next to tapestries of all colors which covered the large windows and which bore the insignia of different guilds, no doubt important guilds that Kunther thought, had made their home in Daevanwood. Artifacts collected from ancient elven ruins sat on shelves along the walls and paintings of dragons and brave warriors hung perfectly beside them.

  They led Kunther up a long spiral of stairs that went straight up three levels of the castle and at the top a catwalk hallway stretched along the back side of the wall. The opposite side of the hall was open and had no rail to protect any one from falling to the ground some fifty feet below.

  When they reached another hallway, they stopped and waited until an attendant came out of a door at the top of a stairway and motioned them to come up. They climbed the stairway up the two flights that eventually brought them to an open door and an elaborately decorated room filled with small trinkets, cups and ancient coins from faraway places, all collected during one of the many journeys that had been made to such places. At the end of the room was a large door that was wide open.

  Kunther could see into the room and its comfortable environment. Long couches and soft chairs filled the large chamber. The High Commander stood with his back turned from the door and looked out of the only window.

  A servant boy who had just finished lighting the fire saw First Warrior Konrod coming and picked up his flint and paper and left the room. Konrod knocked firmly on the opened chamber door and waited a few moments for the High Commander’s permission to enter. Kunther waited in front of the door, anxious to finally have this talk and get this ordeal behind him. With any luck, he thought, he could convince this man to help his friends.

  “Enter,” the commander said with his back still turned to the three men.

  Sergeant Mourt allowed First Warrior Konrod and Kunther to enter first. The First Warrior led Kunther inside the room, commanded him to stop, and took two more steps forward before announcing, “First Warrior Konrod reporting, sir, with the unannounced rider.”

  “At ease, First Warrior. You may leave now,” the High Commander said and turned to face Kunther.

  Sergeant Mourt stood by the open door and let First Warrior Konrod pass and then followed him, closed the door and left Kunther alone with High Commander Balron.

  Carsti Balron turned his back again on Kunther and looked down upon the city of Daevanwood nestled within the forest. Most of the inhabitants were inside for the evening, but a few remained in the streets partaking in the wild life that the city so lawfully permited, the very same wild life that had given the city of Daevanwood the reputation as the City of Renegades.

  “Every time I look down upon this city, it reminds me of the goals and ambitions of my youth. I remember when I first came here. Like you, I was in trouble. It was a pivotal period of my life when I arrived and turned my dreams and ambitions into reality. In some ways, I was lucky. I did many things on my own, but it was not without good help. Within a few years here, I had turned from exiled warrior to a leader, a king of sorts -- if you will -- of this proud, but devious city. I try not to forget my beginnings, especially when it comes to helping those in need…”

  Carsti Balron finally turned and faced Kunther.

  “…especially when they arrive with promises of wealth and information.”

  Kunther saw a tall and proud man wearing a dirt brown robe with a purple sash around his waist. He watched as the commander eyed him intently, showing no sign of emotion. His red hair and beard was unkempt and that made him even more intimidating for it told Kunther that he must have been retired for the evening and now had been rudely awakened.

  “Now that my lecture is over, I want to get to the heart of the matter that you have deemed to my good men -- men that I trust, I should tell you -- unworthy to handle themselves. Why do you seek me out?” he finally asked.

  He did not seem to move a muscle in his face other than his jaws to speak.

  Without hesitation Kunther began talking quickly. “I need your assistance. I have friends in the Valelands who are in grave danger and only your Rager’s House of Renegades can save them.”

  Carsti Balron stepped behind his oversized lounging chair and rested his arms upon its backrest.

  “My men are busy, so my fee is very steep right now. Do you even know my normal fee to lend my men out on dangerous missions?”

  “I have an idea sir, but...”

  “No, I don’t think you understand,” he interrupted. “The fee I ask is even more than can be obtained from a commoner from the Valelands. If you fully understood, you would never have traveled so far.”

  Kunther paused, but then spoke.

  “I must speak regretfully and truthfully, sir. I have no money to pay you, but I come with a message, and for a favor in return for such message.”

  Carsti Balron’s eyes opened with a mixture of anger and curious interest. He scratched his beard. Holding his short temper in check, he asked, “What favor could you possibly offer us?”

  Kunther took a deep breath and spoke before he could change his mind or begin to fear for his life.

  “For your services I will tell you the whereabouts of Rock Blade.”

  For a brief moment, Kunther swore that the air stood still and time froze.

  Carsti Balron stood erect. The large chair he was leaning upon slid forward. His eyes widened and his face began to turn deep red, matching the color of his hair.

  “How do you know that name?�
� he commanded.

  “From Alaezdar himself. He sent me here, for your services. A witch, a wizard, and a tribe of gronts attacked our village, and they took one of our villagers into the Markenhirth forest. Alaezdar, or Rock Blade as you know him, assembled a few men to go into the forest to save our kidnapped villager. He sent me here, to Daevanwood, to seek you out, and only you. In return for your services, he promises to give himself to you if you save our friends in time.”

  Carsti listened to Kunther patiently, but anger still welled up inside him with every minute that passed.

  “This is outrageous! I owe that traitor nothing! And he wants my help? I will have his head! Do you realize that anyone who knows that name carries with him a death sentence?”

  Kunther stepped back and looked fearfully at Carsti and wondered what he was about to do. He thought that he might strike him and then call his guards to take him away, but instead his rage seemed to subside after he took a deep breath and looked into Kunther’s eyes.

  “What is your name young man?” he asked.

  “Kunther,” he responded respectfully and timidly.

  “Kunther, I want you to allow my guards to take you to our temporary guest quarters and wait for my reply. This is a serious matter that I need to discuss with my aides, but before you go, I want you to quickly tell me what you know of Rock Blade and Rager’s House of Renegades.”

  “I don’t know too much more, sir. Alaezdar lived with us for about a year and during that time he was very secretive about his past. After the attack on our home, he only told us that he was once a member and that his secret name was Rock Blade. He said that he left the guild, but was now a wanted man, and that you wanted him back to be held accountable for a murder. He also told me to be very careful to tell no one but you that I knew about his identity because it was a sacred secret, and that I could be killed just for knowing the name. He even told me that telling you what I knew did not guarantee my safety, and that you might kill me instead of helping us. But I told him I did not care because I wanted to do my part to help.”

  Kunther stopped to take a deep breath before he continued. “I have been truthful to you, sir, and I hope no harm will come to me. To tell you the truth, on Alaezdar’s behalf, no one in the village knew of his identity until after the attack, and I am the only one he told his secret to.”

  “Do not fear, Kunther,” the commander said calmly, the tone of his deep voice now one of concentration. “No harm will befall you by Rager’s House of Renegades. You are our guest and will be treated as such. Rock Blade will be beheaded for his murder and his treasonous act of allowing his guild name to pass to your breath. Under the circumstances, the crime will be his and no one else’s. Now, go with the guard and rest. We will bring you food, as well, as I am sure you are hungry. I will talk to you later -- possibly tomorrow morning -- so get a good night’s rest. You look as if you have earned at least that much.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Carsti Balron watched Kunther open the door and face the guards.

  He informed the guards of Kunther’s status and where he was to stay the night, but as they walked away, he grabbed the second guard and asked him to have Talon Blade report to him at once. Carsti Balron watched them walk away, entered his chambers and closed the door behind him.

  He stood alone, deep in thought and full of rage. He had been motionless for many moments when a knock came upon his door.

  “Enter.”

  A man entered the room and gave a motivated and crisp salute. He was wearing loose fitting pants and a light silk shirt and he had his long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail,.

  “Sir, Talon Blade reporting!” he snapped.

  “Relax, Talon. I have an emergency mission for you. A rider with a message has given us word as to the whereabouts of Rock Blade.”

  “Where is he, sir? You must tell me so that I can avenge the death of my friend Red Blade!” he said eagerly.

  “He is in the Markenhirth forest, searching out a goblin tribe that attacked his village and kidnapped one of their villagers.”

  “The Markenhirth Forest, sir? Alone? How deep into the forest?”

  “No, not alone. He took a few villagers with him. The man seems to have no compassion for the villagers he leads into the forest. I am certain the goblin tribes will surely kill them all. It shows his arrogance and stupidity because Rock Blade has been into the Markenhirth Forest and knows how dangerous that can be.”

  Carsti Balron stopped to think of the last time he had to send any of his guild into the Markenhirth Forest. The Fierce Killers battalion of the Battleworth Kingdom had hired the Ragers to rid themselves of the attacking ogres. They had constructed a dozen makeshift boats that had crossed the Darv-Nar bay and attacked a small village near the city of Battleworth during the night, while the city slept. The Kingdom’s city militia retaliated and destroyed half of the raiding ogres before they could return to their boats. Then their navy attacked with their ship, the Zarkon, and sank the other boats before they could return to their land.

  The Fierce Killers battalion was dispatched to enter the Markenhirth Forest and attack the ogre tribe closest to the sea to give them the message that any attacks in such a manner would not go un-avenged.

  The scouting mission with ten members of Rager’s House of Renegades had succeeded in finding the ogre tribe and exposing them for the battalion, but the ogres took the lives of eight of Carsti Balron’s well-trained men. The two surviving men returned with reports of acts of gruesome violence, much worse than what they had already seen in the thickest of battles.

  Balron knew that men in combat were capable of committing some of the most heinous acts of terror in the name of their kingdom, and for their own survival, but these monsters had found ways to torture men while they were still in battle. They tortured them and left them to die in their wounds in the most painful of ways. They even did so without regard to their own lives, and it had seemed to Balron that in their bloodlust it was the ultimate goal to cause terror over anyone’s survival.

  “I do not know how deep into the forest he is, or what his final destination is,” Carsti Balron began, breaking himself from his own thoughts, “but that information you must find for yourself. In one of our guest rooms, you will find the messenger. He is merely a boy. His name is Kunther. You can get all the information you need from him. When you have completed that, you may assemble all the men that you deem necessary for the mission. Do not be afraid to over-staff this mission. I do not want to lose any more lives for the sake of that treasonous Rock Blade.”

  “When should we leave?” Talon Blade asked.

  “As soon as possible, but ultimately that is your choice. Also, if you want to take Kunther with you, you may, but he is tired from his long trip and may just slow you down. I want you to get Rock Blade as soon as possible so that his head may roll to justice.”

  Carsti Balron smiled for the first time since Kunther had first arrived.

  “In fact,” he added, “I want to see his blood, and I don’t care if his blood is fresh or not, I just want to see it drip upon my hands! Understood?”

  “Gratefully, sir.”

  “Then leave!”

  Talon Blade saluted and left the room, eager to obtain the information that would lead to his long awaited revenge.

  Chapter 20

  The pair of chroks inched their way cautiously towards the men and shielded their eyes from the light of the torches as they approached.

  “Back off!” Rivlok shouted. He drew his sword and took a step towards the chroks.

  The two creatures recoiled and slipped back into the shadows.

  “Wait,” Alaezdar said and he punched Rivlok
square in the back. “We need your help.”

  “What?” Rivlok snapped, turning around.

  Alaezdar raised both hands, looked at Rivlok, and whispered. “Shut up and get behind me.”

  The two chroks once again crept out of the darkness, but stayed just out of the torchlight.

  “Can you help us find a way to escape from the goblins outside?” Alaezdar asked while he cautiously stepped towards them.

  Silence and their shuffling back and forth, in and out of shadows, was their only response.

  “We have to hurry. They will be here soon,” Alaezdar said.

  An answer finally came.

  “They won’t be coming in here.”

  “How can you say that? They are just outside. I can hear them assembling.”

  More shuffling and then a short silent laugh.

  “No, they won’t. They are afraid.”

  “Afraid?” Alaezdar asked. “What are they afraid of?”

  “The wraeths, of course,” the two said in unison, giggling.

  This time the silence came from Alaezdar and Rivlok.

  “The wraeths that live in these caves terrify them,” one shadowy chrok said.

  More laughing and then the other one spoke with a slightly deeper and scratchy voice.

  “Yes, they are very, very afraid of them, and us…yes, us also.”

  “Then can you take us to the quickest way to the north side of the pass?” Alaezdar asked.

  “The quickest way into the pass is behind you,” one answered while the other laughed.

  “Of course, you are right,” Alaezdar said, “but we will be killed. Is there another way around?”

  “Yes, there is, but do you want to avoid the wraeths?”

  “If possible, but I am not afraid of them. Take me to the quickest way out of here, whether we encounter wraeths or not.”

  “Alaezdar?” Tharn whispered. “The elven wraeths are not to be taken lightly.”