Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  The loud sound of a man intentionally clearing his throat had the men looking back to the table. Haitius sat tapping his bare fingertips together, still wearing his wry smile. Victus’s eyes squinted in a mix of anger and disgust. Ryon stepped back towards Haitius and, with a sigh, threw a small pouch of gold. It hit the table with a thud. It was the first of several payments Victus and his men would make to the underground guild in return for their services. Haitius smiled wider, collected the pouch, then snapped his fingers and the lone torch went out just as the door to the dark alley was opened and the men departed into the dark night.

  ***

  Ardius was nervous the whole ride back to Lunemire and he made sure each of his fellow riders was aware of what worried him. His concern was that the returning party would return to the city and raise suspicion from the city guard. Fortunately, they were allowed right back in the gates without any inquiries. Ostinus was sure to poke fun at his old friend for his worrying, but he too was relieved to not be stopped and interrogated.

  Gianna, Sterlis and Bart departed shortly after arriving back to the city; however Ardius, Elberon and Ostinus stopped at a pub near the city’s entrance to unwind a bit. They sat at a table and ate a hearty meal while sipping some ale. Together they spoke about their trip, what they had learned and what they might expect to happen in the near future. Their mission was mostly just to confirm the existence of Faletonia and to ascertain the extent to which their new neighboring federation was developing. For the most part is was just an adventure for the curious, although the findings would be reported to higher ups in the Crimson Fox. They had found a city, perhaps one of several. It was still an astonishing fact to all of them. More so because the sheltered citizens of the cities by the South Sea had no inkling whatsoever that cities of monsters were being founded just miles to their north.

  As they continued to chat, a man approached the table. “Ardius, we must speak at once,” the stranger said as he eyed Elberon and Ostinus.

  “Let us speak now then,” replied the weary Ardius.

  “I must speak to you in private, and now.” The graveness of the man’s voice had Elberon and Ostinus looking at Ardius, waiting for response.

  Ardius rose from his chair and put one finger up, signaling that he will be back in a minute. He then went with the man to a corner of the pub, where they could speak alone. Elberon and Ostinus remained seated and curiously watched the conversation. Ardius nodded at times but showed little emotion. The man was explaining something that must have been very important.

  The stranger departed and Ardius returned to his friends. He rubbed his bald head and stood for a moment at the table as if digesting what he had just learned. With a sigh Ardius sat down. “Gentlemen.” He took a deep breath and continued in a low voice, “war is coming. Remain in Lunemire, for you will be safest here. Rogsnelk and Abellard are preparing to attack Faletonia, Lunemire may support.”

  “What? Why?” Asked the confused priest.

  “I do not know. They are lead by Captain Victus Antonel of Rogsnelk. He is a good man, although very arrogant. I suppose they believe the threat is greater than many think. Do not tell anyone what I just told you. It will make its way to ears of the council and then to the townsfolk here shortly I’m sure. I must return to Rogsnelk.” Ardius turned to Elberon, “pray that this is not as catastrophic as it could potentially be.” He then turned to Ostinus “Let’s hope we see each other again soon old friend.” With that he gave them both a nod, rose, and walked away. After a few steps he stopped and walked back to the two men. Ardius reached into his pocket and pulled out several silver pieces, which he dropped to the center of the table. It was more than enough to cover all three of their bills. Then he quickly departed.

  The two companions sat in silence for a while.

  “I will be forced to honor my arrangement with the council if war finds Lunemire. I will have to serve in the army,” said Ostinus.

  “We are at the dawn of unprecedented times. If what he said was true, we all may be fighting soon.” Elberon shook his head. Faletonia may have wanted peace, but they will now unify to fight the denial of their new way of life.” The priest spoke in a daze, still in shock at the news.

  Ostinus put an assuring hand on his friend’s shoulder, “perhaps this Victus Antonel will destroy his enemy quickly and effortlessly. I’ve heard of this man, he is a man of passion and the people revere and follow him, Many will fight loyally by his side.”

  “And perhaps he underestimates Faletonia, as the dwarves did.” The priest stood “I must go, let us meet tomorrow, after I serve at the temple. Find me just after midday, by then we may know the decision of our council and what is to come.” He left without a response from his friend. Ostinus was surprised by the cleric’s attitude; he seemed even more worried than normal. The warrior took his friend’s unfinished ale and poured it into his own glass. He then leaned back and sat pensive in his chair.

  When Elberon exited the pub, he took two steps towards his home and stopped. His mind was racing. He had had a wary feeling the last couple of weeks, as if Phelios was giving him the gift of clairvoyance. He recalled the strange effects of the fire when he and Ostinus were on their way to Orzalar. It was as if the unexpected cone of flames told him where the trouble would start. He wished he knew where it would end…or how it would end. The priest then changed his direction, turned to his right and began to walk. He was not going to his home; he would go to the home of his love, Esrella Meyor.

  ***

  When the door closed behind him the priest sighed with exhaustion and looked around his small home. Elberon Per Finn laid his travel bag down and dropped his mace on the ground. He was weary from his travels and even more so from staying awake for the romantic evening he spent with Esrella. Midnight had passed hours ago. His mind was cluttered with all the information he had come across on his trip and more recently in the bar from Ardius. He had not mentioned much to Esrella, but she sensed he was uneasy. An eerie feeling lingered within the man. He eyed a small wall ornament that represented his god and his vows. So much was about to happen, and it all seemed so sudden.

  The priest walked over to a small bowl of water and washed his face and hands. He stared at the man in the mirror before him. A tired image looked back. The trance was broken by several light knocks on his door. Elberon spun quickly and looked to his mace, a reaction that seemed strange to him a second later.

  “Who’s there?” He called out.

  “Elberon, it is I, Bentinis.”

  The voice was clearly the high priest’s, but he still found himself surprised and cautious. It was a couple of hours before dawn, an unusual time for a visit from anyone, but particularly so from the high priest. He opened the door to see Bentinis standing with two other priests he knew well at his flank.

  “May we enter?” Asked the high priest, adorned in his white robes.

  “Of course, your holiness,” Elberon replied. The mere presence of the two other priests was worrisome enough; however the look in the face of Bentinis told him that he was not going to enjoy the ensuing conversation. The high priest looked around the small house, glancing at the travel bag and mace. Elberon lead the men to a small round table surrounded by some chairs. The high priest sat while the other two priests stood nearby.

  “Please sit with me.” Bentinis motioned to the seat beside him. Elberon sat and thought the high priest would first question why he seemed to have been awake at this hour…but he did not. “Have you heard of what is about to happen?” Elberon’s nod drew a curious stare from the high priest, as word of the attack was not known in Lunemire yet. “The rising force that supposedly threatens us?” Bentinis asked, trying to confirm if Elberon was indeed thinking about the same thing.

  “Yes, I’ve heard,” said Elberon, an answer that again surprised the High Priest, but he continued.

  “We find ourselves at the cusp of war. Forces from the other two cities will attack this motley nation that has come together. The
re is a growing fissure among the thoughts and emotions of our people. Lunemire sends no forces, Rogsnelk is divided and it is uncertain how much of their army will march against this threat called Faletonia. The situation is similar in Abellard. A victory will not be an easy feat, and men will die. Fathers and husbands will fall at the hands of orcs, goblins and even giants.” At this point Bentinis put a small jeweled figurine on the table. It was meant to be in the image of an avatar of Phelios, a cloaked man with his arms spread to the sky. It was beautiful and very valuable, a true artifact of their religion. The figurine seemed to glow and a power could be felt emanating from it.

  As if the high priest could read Elberon’s mind, he continued, “It is arguable whether this move by the forces that ride on Faletonia is just. They have done us no wrong, they are creatures with as much a right to life and society as we are.” He sat up in his chair and his voice became firmer as he looked at the figurine. “With that said we must not forget what transpired in Orzalar, parts of which you witnessed yourself. We must consider not only the future of our fair city and of Rogsnelk and Abellard, but also our purpose as priests of Phelios and our vows.” Elberon’s eyes ere now also fixed on the enchanting artifact.

  Elberon began to get a nervous feeling in his stomach, he thought he knew what direction this conversation was going, but could hardly bare to fathom it. Then the confirmation came. “We will support the forces of men. We will send a powerful group of priests to fight beside the captain from Rogsnelk, Victus Antonel, in the name of all that is good. The forces of Faletonia must be disbanded. Twenty priests from the three cities, twelve followers of Phelios, five of Tuemis, and three of Aya shall join the campaign. I am here to ask you to honor your vows, to serve Phelios in the ultimate manner and go and protect the men who fight for our cities. What say you Elberon Per Fiin?”

  It was almost too much to take in. Again, he thought, it was all happening so fast. Now he was being asked to go to war? Now he must fight in the name of his god? He thought about how the high priest presented the scenario. Although he was not convinced that sending priests of Phelios and of the religious orders of Tuemis, god of the hearth and home, and Aya, god of air, was the best course of action, he could not deny Bentinis. He could not deny his vows.

  “I will do whatever is asked of me by our order and our god.” One of the two other priests nodded in respect of his response.

  “We meet tomorrow, two hours after the end of the service you will be conducting at the temple. This will be your greatest service yet to Phelios. My faith leads me to believe you will serve well brother Elberon.” Bentinis stood, put the figurine in his pocket, and made for the door. As one of the priests opened the door for him Bentinis turned and addressed Elberon, who was just rising from his chair. “May Phelios be with us all.” He then left.

  Elberon stood still for a few moments then walked over to the wall ornament dedicated to his god. It was a large yellow circle with six pointy triangles protruding from it. In the center was a silhouette of a man with his arms in the air. He put his hand on the ornament and closed his eyes. He would go fight; he will protect the men of Victus Antonel’s army and the others from Abellard. He would die in battle in the name of Phelios if necessary. Suddenly, he thought of Esrella, of the pain she will have with his departure. He will tell her soon. He will fight, but first, he must sleep.

  Chapter 10

  It was a familiar scene to all those who sat around the long ovular table, yet there was an uncomfortable ambiance that was felt by each member of the council of Rogsnelk. The members took to their customary seats. The meeting would be run like all other meetings, but it was like no other. Craegan Moorefont, a thin elderly man, would open and run the meeting, which was done each time the group congregated. Each councilman wore his customary meeting garments. All except one man.

  This was no ordinary meeting for Captain Victus Antonel. He was one of the thirteen members of the council but on this day he did not wear the light thin grey tunic that adorned each other man. The Captain wore his armor and white cape, which he had become known for.

  “Our council is in session men. We assemble on the request of member Victus Antonel and the most imperative of discussions. The council will again meet as scheduled on the fifteenth of this month. The only agenda item to be deliberated today shall be that which Victus brings to our attention. Nothing more. Captain Antonel, senior commander of our army, please speak,” said Craegan as he motioned towards Victus.

  The Captain slowly looked around the table at each of the other twelve men; his chiseled face filled with pride. “My fellow councilmen. We are all aware of this grave situation that has presented itself to each of the three cities. We have learned what has happened at the dwarven city of Orzalar. The dwarves are a peaceful people with no enemies. Then, they were given an ultimatum. There were to surrender part of their home, a home that they inhabited for over a thousand years, or lose it by force. The prideful dwarves rightfully chose to not forfeit their lands. So the enemy violently took them away. Faletonia, as they call themselves, usurped the dwarven mines and mountainous caverns and quarries, establishing themselves as controllers of resources from the mines that generation after generation of dwarves built and labored in. This force of evil grows and will inevitably set its target on us.” He paused and raised his head. “We can not fall to the same fate of the dwarves.”

  “An unprecedented and peculiar occurrence,” said another member.

  “Make no mistake,” Victus continued, “a force of hundreds or thousands of orcs, goblins, ogres and giants turn its focus on our cities…and we will face similar demands to those given to Orzalar.”

  “Brother Victus, the dwarves have metals and stone, what would we have that the Faletonians would risk war to obtain? They apparently reside miles to the north of here. Would they not have plenty of land to work there? And I’ve never known orcs and goblins to have any need for the gifts of the seas.” Another man, short and bulky in stature named Enrik Heisted, said.

  “We have land…and peace. We must not forget them for who they are…they are a unity of monsters, marauders and killers-”

  “But they’ve come in peace,” interrupted Craegan.

  “Until peace is not enough for them!” Another council member snapped.

  “Our scouts have said that more and more orcs travel to join the Faletonian cause. We don’t know how many of them there are! We know of three cities. Three cities!” Victus said slowly in a raised voice. “Now is not the time to begin to discuss how this came to be. How a civilization could develop several miles away and we are so sheltered as to not even be aware of it! This must, however, be addressed in the future within these chambers. We wear blinders to the world, we remain shackled to our ways.” He paused and then continued. “Do you think that if they grow to…let’s say...five or ten cities, that wiping out the nearby human civilizations would not be a tempting thought?” Asked Victus.

  Enrik chimed in again, “We know there are several giants. The stories of giants and their power craving manipulating ways would give credence to what you’re implying.”

  Another councilman than remarked “They could just as well attack the nomadic humans that travel the plains to their north instead of us.”

  “So what is it you propose Victus?” asked Craegan.

  All eyes went to The Captain who leaned forward over the table. “I propose we strike now, before Faletonia can grow any stronger. Nip this in the bud. The army has been training. Let us join with forces from Abellard and Lunemire and extinguish the threat.”

  Several members of the council looked to one another as they considered the suggestion. “Would you have us send the whole army to fight and leave few men behind? To send our men to fight an enemy we don’t quite understand or even know is truly an enemy?” Craegan inquired.

  “Not the whole army…but most of it. Some men must remain back to defend the city.” Said Victus assertively.

  “Nonsense!” Yelled a
man named Jordyn Kynburl who had been silent up to this point. His skin was dark and black curly hair fell over half of his face. He was a particularly wicked member of the council. “Half of our army with a couple hundred men from another city could dispatch this motley group of savages. After all, they’re mostly uncivilized orcs.”

  “Possibly thousands of uncivilized orcs.” The Captain reminded sternly.

  “But orcs nonetheless…they can’t get out of their own way and will soon be at each others throats-” Jordyn continued but was interrupted by Victus which lead to a hateful gaze from the man.

  “Have you ever even seen an orc, Jordyn?” The Captain asked. Jordyn Kynburl’s silence and snide expression proved to the council that he had not. Victus continued, “I have seen them. I have fought them. And I have killed them. Since our cities have been founded, orcs have raided our fields, attacked our travelers, and robbed our traders. Some have even managed to rape women who walked outside the city. Together, with great numbers, they will do far worse.”

  “Victus,” a raspy voice rang. It was the voice of Shurlos Vinter, the eldest member of the council. “This room is filled with men that respect you…and always have.” The old man labored to sit all the way up in his chair. At ninety-one, he did not come to many meetings anymore, but he amazingly was still strong witted, and thought this meeting was worth attending. “We must not only think of the lives of our men. An all out offensive will cost the city vast sums of gold…sums it does not currently have.”