Dragontiarna: Knights

by Moeller, Jonathan

  A lake of molten stone perhaps a mile in diameter sat at the edge of the Torn Hills, the glowing stone casting its bloody light over the surrounding hills. It was always night so close to Urd Morlemoch, which made the glow from the molten lake all the more stark and hellish.

  A jagged hill rose from the center of the lake, and the citadel filled the hill. Built of gleaming white stone, the ruins were the size of a small town. A wall, reinforced with towers and ramparts, rose from the edge of the molten stone. The hill had been cut into terraces, and crumbling mansions and towers covered their sides. A massive white tower, standing nearly five hundred feet tall, rose from the hill’s crest. Ribbons of cold blue fire flickered and danced around the high tower, spreading like crooked fingers across the sky. A causeway of white stone, looking newly-built, stretched from the shore to the island holding Urd Morlemoch.

  Aeliana knew that the lake of molten stone was just about ten years old. From the tales she had heard on her way here when Ridmark had escaped from Urd Morlemoch, the Warden had dueled the ancient high elven archmage Ardrhythain. Their duel had been a draw, for while the Warden was invincible within Urd Morlemoch, neither could he ever leave his stronghold. The backlash of the titanic energies the two archmages unleashed had left Urd Morlemoch untouched, but it had turned the earth around Urd Morlemoch into molten stone for a half mile in all directions…and ten years later, the molten rock was as hot as ever.

  She shuddered to think of the colossal power it would have taken to unleash such destruction.

  Aeliana also wondered who had built that causeway to the island. The tribes of mutant orcs she had avoided on her way here, most likely. The Devout worshipped the Warden as a god, and they must have built the causeway at his bidding.

  But why?

  Sometimes adventurers entered Urd Morlemoch seeking treasures or lost relics, and some of the tales said the Warden amused himself by setting cruel games for the intruders. If they survived, the adventurers were permitted to leave with their lives.

  If they failed, they never left Urd Morlemoch.

  Aeliana would just have to win the Warden’s game.

  Her resolve wavered as she looked at the ribbons of blue fire dancing around the central tower. This was beyond her. The Warden was beyond her. Yet Aeliana thought of her father’s death, of her torment at the hands of the Matriarch, of how her father’s grand dream had failed.

  Perhaps she would find something better in its place.

  Aeliana gathered her courage and crossed the causeway, entering the yawning gates of Urd Morlemoch.

  The fortress was a maze, and it took all Aeliana’s skill and cunning to avoid the mechanical deathtraps and the magical wards, the wandering undead, and the patrols of Devout orcs. Urvaalgs and urshanes wandered the ruins, and from time to time urdhracosi circled overhead, drifting on black wings. Step by step she moved deeper into Urd Morlemoch, drawing ever closer to the central tower. She had dreamed of killing Ridmark for years, and she had studied everything she could about him, every scrap of detail she could discover about his journeys. Both times he had confronted the Warden, she knew, it had been atop the great central tower of the fortress. Some said the Warden stood there for years at a time, watching all that happened within the world and spinning dark webs to ensnare of foes.

  After a day of hiding, Aeliana came to the endless spiral stair of the enormous central tower. Up and up it went, and she had to hide and avoid both the undead and the Devout. A few times, she caught Devout warriors on their own, and she killed them, concealing their bodies to avoid discovery.

  After another half-day, she reached the end of the spiral stair and came to the top of the tower.

  The Warden of Urd Morlemoch waited for her.

  The pinnacle of the tower was a wide, flat space, so high above the ground below that Aeliana saw both the molten lake and the rippling waves of the western sea. From time to time spouts of hissing steam rose from the sea as the molten stone splashed over its bounds and plummeted into the water.

  A ring of dark standing stones filled about half the space atop the tower. Their sides were carved with dark elven symbols, displaying the scenes of cruelty and murder the dark elves loved so much. A few of the standing stones had lintels, creating crude doorways. A stone altar stood in the center of the circle, a blue glow shining from a crystal atop its rough surface. The crystal was about the size of a small chest or a large melon, and it looked like an enormous uncut gemstone. A strange feeling of vertigo went through Aeliana as she looked at it, but she barely noticed the thing.

  The Warden held her attention.

  He stood at the edge of the circle of standing stones, watching her. The Warden was seven feet tall, perhaps a little higher, and wore a long black-trimmed blue coat, black boots, black trousers, and a black tunic. His head was hairless and bone-white, the face long, gaunt, vulpine, and utterly alien. A diadem of blue dark elven steel encircled his brow, and his bottomless black eyes, filled with the void, stared at her.

  The Warden had known that she was coming.

  A bolt of pure dread stabbed into Aeliana. Her father had been a powerful man. The Matriarch had possessed great power, though in the end, she was a coward, hiding in Cintarra for fear of the Swordbearers and the urdmordar and the Warden.

  But standing here, in the presence of the Warden himself, Aeliana understood the Matriarch’s fear.

  Her father and the Matriarch had possessed power…but it was nothing compared to the strength she felt around the Warden. Aeliana possessed no magical ability, which had frustrated her, but even without arcane talent, she felt the terrible might around the Warden.

  Yet the mighty sorcerer watched her, waiting for her to make the first move.

  Strength would not serve Aeliana here.

  Nor would mockery, or scorn, or trickery.

  There was only one thing she could do.

  Aeliana could speak the truth. For, in the end, what was stronger than the truth?

  She took a step forward and went to one knee, bowing her head.

  “Lord Warden,” said Aeliana, speaking in the dark elven language, which she had learned from the Matriarch. “I have come through great peril to speak with you, and I beg an audience.”

  There was a long pause, and then the Warden spoke. His voice was far deeper than any mere human tone and far more musical. Yet there was something ugly and malevolent within it, something that spoke of uncounted thousands of years of evil wisdom.

  “You may speak,” said the Warden. “Name yourself.”

  Aeliana lifted her face and dared to look at the Warden. “My name is Aeliana Carhaine, and I am the daughter of Tarrabus Carhaine, the rightful High King of Andomhaim, who was betrayed and murdered by his subjects.”

  “Indeed,” said the Warden. The bottomless wells of the void in his eyes considered her. Aeliana dared not hope, yet she thought he seemed intrigued. Or maybe he was just bored, and her temerity and boldness amused him. From anyone else, that would have annoyed Aeliana…but the Warden could destroy her with a thought. He could do worse than destroy her. “Why have you sought me out? What does the daughter of a defeated king ask of me?”

  “I ask nothing of you, Lord Warden,” said Aeliana. Now the moment for boldness had come. “Instead, I offer an alliance.”

  “An alliance?” said the Warden. His bloodless features remained impassive, but one thin lip twitched, perhaps in rage, perhaps in amusement. “Your impudence amuses me. What do you have to offer?”

  “Vengeance,” said Aeliana. “I know that Ridmark Arban came here and escaped. Ridmark also betrayed and murdered my father.” The familiar hate for the man burned through her. “Give me power, Lord Warden. Give me the power, and I shall take vengeance upon Ridmark Arban for what he has done to both of us.”

  Again, the Warden fell silent for a long time. For a moment, Aeliana wondered if he had forgotten that she was there, but she knew that would be a tremendously foolish assumption. No, he was considering he
r request, and again she felt the flicker of hope. Yet the Warden also gave her the impression that he was deep in thought, as if he was considering her proposal in the light of other matters.

  That both gave her hope and unsettled her. What sort of web was the Warden spinning? The tales of Ridmark Arban said that the Warden had let him escape from Urd Morlemoch the first time to lure him there again years later with the Keeper of Andomhaim.

  Had the Warden foreseen Aeliana’s arrival?

  “Very well, Aeliana Carhaine,” said the Warden. “You shall have what you wish.”

  “Thank you, Lord Warden,” said Aeliana. “I will not fail you.”

  “No,” said the Warden. “You shall not.” He beckoned with a long, bony hand, and Aeliana saw rings of gold and silver and dark elven steel glittering upon the fingers. No doubt each one held a potent spell ready. “Rise.”

  Aeliana stood at once.

  “Your sword,” said the Warden. “It is of dark elven make and bears a potent spell of life-draining. Where did you find it?”

  Her initial impulse was to lie, but her instincts reminded her that lying to the Warden was a bad idea. “It came from the armory of the Matriarch of the Red Family, Lord Warden. I stole it when I felt the Family.”

  The Warden let out a low chuckle. “Indeed? How amusing. If you survive what is to come, perhaps I shall give you a better sword before you leave here. A valuable lesson in fear, Aeliana Carhaine. The Matriarch lives in terror of my vengeance, but I care nothing for her. She is no threat to me nor any impediment to my plans. Her fear keeps her imprisoned more effectively than any chain.”

  “I…thought as much, Lord Warden,” said Aeliana. “Else I would not now be alive.”

  “No,” said the Warden. “And if you are to be a fit instrument of my will, you must learn. Your first lesson. Your hatred for Ridmark Arban chains you just as the Matriarch’s fear holds her bound. Have you given any thought to what you shall do once the Shield Knight is slain?”

  “I…I had thought I would seek a position of power somewhere,” said Aeliana, taken aback. “Perhaps I would return to Cintarra and destroy the Matriarch…”

  “You had not given it any thought because your hatred limits your vision,” said the Warden. “You will destroy the Shield Knight, but once you do, your mind must turn to the only matter of any consequence.”

  “What is that, Lord Warden?” said Aeliana.

  “The acquisition of power,” said the Warden. “I am going to reshape the cosmos. And if you serve me well, you shall rise with me.”

  “What must I do?” said Aeliana.

  “First,” said the Warden, and those cold eyes seemed to slice into her, “you must be taught.”

  She did not leave Urd Morlemoch again for two years, and when she did, many things within her had changed.

  And as the Warden had promised, he had indeed given her a better sword.

  ***

  Chapter 7: Drakocenti

  Aeliana walked towards the gate of the Monastery of St. Bartholomew, shaking off her memories.

  She had work to do, and this was no time for distraction.

  The first step towards her vengeance upon Ridmark Arban.

  And the first step of the Warden’s great plan.

  For the Warden had told her what he intended, the great labor he had undertaken across the centuries. He had spoken to her of Guardians and magical gates and worlds other than these, of the hidden cults and secret societies he had created upon two worlds, and he had spoken of the doors between those worlds.

  And there was one specific door that he sought.

  A door that must never be opened…but the Warden would open it, and once he did, the cosmos would be his to reshape as he wished.

  Aeliana looked forward to watching the world, all the worlds, burn.

  But there was work to be done first, some of it tedious, and it was time to get on with it.

  She stopped at the edge of the light from the two monks’ hooded lantern and waited.

  It was amusing that it took several seconds for the monks to see her. The taller one glanced in her direction, looked away, and then back at her. He flinched and let out a startled yelp, and the shorter, fatter man looked up. He grabbed the hilt of a dagger concealed in the rope belt of his robe.

  “And here I thought,” said Aeliana, drawing back the cowl of her cloak, “that monks were forbidden from spilling blood with the edge of the sword.”

  The two men hesitated and then stepped closer.

  “We are forbidden from spilling blood with the sword,” said Abbot Caldorman. “But one can hardly fault us for carrying a dagger to cut our meat.”

  “And it’s not as if you believe your vows anyway,” said Aeliana.

  Prior Simon scowled at her. “A woman? The emissary of the High One of the Drakocenti is a woman?”

  Caldorman let out a sigh. Neither man was particularly bright, but Caldorman was the smarter of the two. Aeliana suspected the abbot had grown weary of his underling.

  “That’s right, Prior Simon,” said Aeliana. “I am only the High One’s messenger. But one of higher rank in the Brotherhood of the Drakocenti than you, incidentally. I urge you to keep a respectful tongue in your head. I have no need of your tongue to complete my task. Or of any other part of you, really.”

  Simon scowled but said nothing, and Caldorman chuckled.

  “Then you are the emissary of the High One?” said Caldorman. “Please do not be offended when I ask you to prove it. One must be cautious.”

  In answer, Aeliana simply rolled up her sleeve and showed them the inside of her right forearm. Caldorman and Simon did the same, and Aeliana saw the faint blue light of the marks on their forearms. Hers was much more powerful, though they didn’t know it yet.

  “Satisfied?” said Aeliana.

  Simon looked as if he had just taken a bite out of a lemon, but Caldorman only nodded.

  “What task does the High One have for us?” said Caldorman. “We of the Drakocenti are eager to serve.” He smiled. “For soon, the hour of ascension shall come, and mankind will become gods and leave our humanity behind. At least, those of us wise enough to listen to the teachings of the High One and follow the path of the Drakocenti.”

  Long practice kept the contempt from Aeliana’s face.

  It seemed that Caldorman really believed in the teachings of the Drakocenti, failing to realize that he was only a tool. Of course, all the Drakocenti really believed that they were going to become dragon gods and reign over the rest of mankind forever. Even the High One himself believed it, failing to realize that he was only the tool of the Warden.

  “First,” said Aeliana, “a word of warning. What was that nonsense with that peasant boy and the stolen pig?”

  Caldorman blinked in surprise. “The boy was a thief. He stole property from the monastery. A stern example had to be set.”

  “The Shield Knight already doesn’t like you,” said Aeliana. “Give him half an excuse, and he will start poking around the monastery. How many of your brothers have you converted to the path of the Drakocenti? Lord Ridmark is not a fool, and neither is his wife. They will realize that you have forsaken both the church and Andomhaim.” She leveled a finger at him. “Especially since Prince Accolon is currently inside your walls.”

  Caldorman spread his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Those were our instructions, emissary. Make sure the Prince came to this monastery, and to keep him here. We have carried those instructions out faithfully, I might add. Arranging for him to come here without revealing ourselves was no mean feat, and we were fortunate that Prince Accolon himself provided such…ah, ready means to lure him here.” Simon smirked, once, at that. “I fail to see how we have done anything worthy of reproach.”

  “You have done well so far,” said Aeliana. “It is perfectly understandable that a heartbroken young man should seek spiritual solace for his failings in a monastery. So why would you risk breaking that illusion by making such a fuss over
a damned pig?”

  “And two sheep,” added Simon. “A pig and two sheep.”

  “I’m afraid I do not understand,” said Caldorman. “He stole from us. A harsh example must be set to discourage the other vagabond vermin from stealing our animals.”

  Aeliana stared at him. How could he be so wretchedly stupid? Aeliana knew that she was smarter than most people, but sometimes she failed to appreciate the depths of mankind’s idiocy until it was thrust into her face. Aeliana had never believed in God, though she thought that the general imbecility of mankind was an argument against the teachings of the church. What sort of God would sacrifice his son to save a kindred as abysmally moronic as humanity?

  “Because,” said Aeliana, slowly, as if speaking to a dense child, “the plans of the High One are at a critical phase. The House of Pendragon must be destroyed, and Andomhaim thrust into chaos for mankind to ascend to godhood. But that will not happen if the Drakocenti are discovered before our plans are ripe. So, to be clear, you will do nothing to offend your neighbors, nor will you do anything to irritate the Shield Knight or any of the other lords. If our plans are discovered prematurely, the High One will hold you accountable…and my next visit to you will not be so cordial. I trust that I am understood?”

  Simon looked outraged, but Caldorman only feigned a suitably contrite expression. He was a better politician than Simon, which no doubt explained why he was the abbot and Simon was not.

  “Now,” said Aeliana, “to more urgent business. The town will come under attack shortly after sunrise, and it will be a foe that no man of Andomhaim has ever seen before.”

  Caldorman frowned. “These red orcs that the commoners keep nattering on about?”

  Simon snorted. “A myth. A tale told by the peasants to excuse their cowardice.”

  “No, not the red orcs,” said Aeliana. The red orcs were, in fact, very real, but the abbot and the prior didn’t need to know that quite yet. Perhaps it would be a surprise for them in a few months. “A different sort of foe. But the enemy will appear both outside the walls and within the town, so you will need to act quickly. Accolon Pendragon must die tomorrow. I suggest leaving the gates to the monastery open. Instruct Accolon to sleep in the doorkeeper’s cottage for some reason or another. Something to do with penance, I expect. The creatures attacking the town shall find and kill him. It will look like a simple casualty of the battle, and no suspicion will fall on you.”