The Dread Lords Rising

by J. David Phillips

  *

  Maerillus stood just beyond the doorway of the sitting room of Lord Faldon’s estate. He found the place spacious but not overpowering, an elegant testament to a man who toward the last years of his life chose not excess but simplicity. Faldon had long retired to his family home in Havel’s Dock after serving the crown loyally.

  Maerillus had gone with his farther, though whether his father or Joachim had insisted more vehemently that he should have remained behind, he was not sure. After the events at Kreeth’s mansion, Maerillus was not going to be left behind. He needed to get out and away from home. After a protracted morning of nagging, both men knew he was bent on going with them and that they were going to have to flatly forbid him—which might prompt Niam and Davin team up with Maer to concoct a plan to follow and eavesdrop—or mollify him by letting him come. Joachim finally looked at him and said, “Fine. You’ll find out eventually, anyway.”

  Maerillus knew Joachim was taking Kine and his father to talk with Lord Faldon about the trall loose in the area, and to explain the constant train of patrols winding through the towns and villages in the Valleys.

  While his father had told him to wait as the three men spoke with Faldon, Maerillus knew he was going to have to listen in. There had been something strange in his father’s eyes as they spoke before the meeting, and it incensed Maerillus that there was obviously something important afoot that he needed to know about.

  Now he listened. And everything they covered with Faldon he already knew. After the meeting, the three men remained in the sitting room talking as Faldon left them to attend to other matters. They currently sat together talking quietly. “It was that poison,” the Hammer presently grumbled. But another month? This is ridiculous!”

  “Kreeth’s property is guarded,” Joachim muttered. “And we will return as soon as we can and see what that bastard has hidden in his basement.”

  Kine’s face grew severe. “There’s no telling what he has working down there, but I can tell you it’s nothing good for anyone in the Lake Valleys.”

  Joachim’s voice was sour. “But with no one able to go in or out, maybe we’ve mitigated the worst of it.”

  Though Maerillus was sure none of the men in the room could see him, Joachim’s temper made him instinctively step back. The man was as testy as a hungry dire wolf.

  “There’s more unpleasantness brewing than just this,” Maerillus’s father broke in.

  Joachim followed this immediately with an even sourer note. “There’s nothing to be done about that right now. Even if King Gerard’s son is dead and the succession is now in doubt.”

  At that, Jolan Kine responded darkly. “Found dead at the dinner table. King’s physician says it was a natural death.”

  “You don’t believe it?” Gaius asked in a way that made it clear that the question was more a statement of agreement than curiosity.

  “Poisoned arrows, poisoned soup,” Kine said in a sinister voice. “Seems like there might be an awful lot of poison going around these days.”

  “If you are right, then either the physician is part of it, or he’s too scared to say anything,” Gaius said, and then chose his words carefully. “You obviously seem to insinuate that the two may be . . . connected.”

  Jolan Kine’s words became hard. “I more than suspect that some of my order have been turning attention away from Kreeth, and if the prince’s dinner was poisoned, it would have been from someone high up in Pallodine—Someone with a very dangerous set of skills.”

  “Poison used to be one way Hammer’s took down Sorcerers and dark wizards,” Joachim added.

  “A practice that was outlawed by Gerard himself,” Gaius said. “I remember the debate.”

  “Many of my order were opposed. It’s a damned lot easier to poison a Sorcerer than take him down in person. Gerard never was popular with some of us,” Kine told them.

  “And you?” Gaius asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Kine smiled crookedly. “I’m a practical man, Gaius.”

  “One I imagine with a very dangerous set of skills,” the dark irony in Gaius’s voice was clear.

  “Indeed.”

  Joachim broke in heatedly before a verbal jousting began. “Those laws have helped bring many Sorcerers to ridicule and scorn because they lived long enough to see trials. And allowing the pubic to see that Sorcerers could be brought to justice has been worth any five assassinations. It’s one area I always disagreed with Jort about when the old fox was alive. I want Kreeth tried publically and put down like the animal he is.”

  Kine now arched an eyebrow. “Idealistic. But how many of our enemies do you think might be allied? I’d just as soon use a poisoned arrow on Kreeth and then deal with the others. You should be in Pallodine right now, Joachim. Already Count Eason is trying get enough support to move into the Lake Valleys to take care of this ‘so called trall business.’”

  Maerillus had never met Eason but he knew him by reputation. The man was sanctimonious, ambitious, and conniving. A lot of merchants had fled Kalavere for the Lake Valleys over the years because of him.

  “I know what Eason is trying,” Joachim growled. “He’d be happy to take my title along with my head if he weren’t such a sniveling coward.”

  “No noble has moved against another in the kingdom in over three hundred years,” Gaius said, distressed at the thought.

  “Right now, with Gerard in mourning, there are many in Pallodine taking advantage of the lack of oversight,” Joachim said bluntly. “And I imagine some in his closest circle are making sure that such oversight has blind spots.”

  “The repercussions some of these plots spell for Maerillus and the boys are frightening,” Gaius worried.

  “I’ll get them out of the kingdom before that happens,” Joachim reassured him.

  Before they could continue talking, the door across the room opened and Lord Faldon walked in and with a kindly grin announced that it was time for lunch. Maerillus moved away silently, thinking.

  Much of what he heard he already knew, and to be honest, the idea that Lord Eason wanted to stir up trouble for Joachim worried Maerillus the most, and not just because the first casualty of an attempt to humiliate or strip the Count of his title would be his father, but also because of what the nasty man might do to the Valleys. He had always wanted to shut down much of the business the Joachim and Sartor families had brought into the area.

  Maerillus moved down the hall to muse a little bit. He thought Joachim’s words that there was something he was “going to find out anyway” were perplexing. A pang of worry struck him in his stomach. As he moved down the hall to Faldon’s kitchen to see if he could get one of the maids to find him some bread and cheese, he saw a familiar figure with carelessly thrown blond hair. Her maid’s dress swished as she walked, and Maerillus’s heart made an involuntary leap. “Betsy!” he exclaimed. Betsy looked up in surprise. Her sharp features and pretty red lips took his breath away. Her eyes met his, and a strange mixture of emotions crossed her face. Maerillus almost frowned, but he held it in check. She seemed elated and frightened the moment he called her name.

  Betsy’s face flushed and she bit her lip nervously. “You always have a way of popping up!”

  Maerillus couldn’t help but grin. “I get that a lot now,” he said, fighting butterflies in his chest. Betsy met his gaze for one long moment, and seemed on the verge of saying something, but as she watched Maerillus’s eyes trail from her face down the length of her dress, she hung her head down in shame. The smile on his face became awkward, and fell into an expression of shock and hurt. “You’re pregnant!” he blurted out against his better judgment.

  Betsy began to cry. “It was him, Maerillus! That vile man!” she said between trembling lips. “He did this t
o me while I was under his spell. I promise I didn’t have anyone else in my life! I’m not like that. You must believe me!” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, and for a moment Maerillus was caught up in a torrent of emotions. Kreeth had taken his pleasure against her will—against her knowledge even. In the instant of rage that sprung up inside of him, he had another thought that immediately shamed him.

  She was tainted.

  But then he caught his composure and silently cursed himself for thinking such a thing. Maerillus thrust the idea from his mind and took ahold of her in a strong embrace. Betsy cried into his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Do you think less of me?” She sniffed dejectedly. “I’ll understand if you do.”

  Maerillus wanted to scream in fury. When he said, “Of course I don’t,” his voice cracked against his will, and he struggled in vain not to cry. “It’s not your fault Betsy,” he said as tenderly as he could manage. “There’s no shame for you in this. Not for you. Not in my eyes.” Betsy held onto him and wept even harder. They both wept—in pain, shame, and anger at the violation.

  For the first time in his life, Maerillus wanted to kill someone.