by B K Suitter
“Ok, ok,” said Allenmar as he patted the air in front of him. “Um, let’s see, Tanamar just comes up missing and some travelers find his journals.”
“Some travelers?” Gretta asked dangerously as she pulled a sharp dagger from her belt sheath.
“No wait,” said Allenmar with a truly concerned look on his face. Everyone else just sat quiet, all except the rogue Daphaxian and he laughed at the worried Arani prince. Gretta turned the blade onto Daphaxian.
“Finish the story correctly or your dirty face will bleed,” threatened Gretta, and Daphaxian painted a look of hurt across his handsome features.
“Dear Princess, I do know how the story ends,” and the charming Daphaxian turned to Aliha and spoke dramatically with his hands. “It is true – Tanamar did come up missing. He was witnessed leaving Asarian City and heading east towards the Timberlands, but he was never seen again. It was only by the grace of The Three Princesses of Asaria,” and Daphaxian stood up and faced Gretta, and she leveled her dagger at his heart. “For those three wondrous women, who were superior over all men in all aspects, found the lost journals of Tanamar and took them to the famous libraries in Arani City. There, the history of the Kadomi was first recorded,” and Daphaxian finished with a short bow, kissing the point of Gretta’s blade.
When he brought his head back up, he found the alluring princess with a seductive smile, and before she turned away to move back toward the front of the rail car, she shot her hand out, and with her dagger tip, cut a short line of red across Daphaxian’s cheek. The Asarian rogue smiled and reached up with his fingers and touched the blood where he had been marked.
“I think I’m in love,” Daphaxian said bashfully and all in the rail car laughed.
12
Year of the Frost Horn 2318 A.A.
The tunnel was dark, and it echoed with heavy footsteps as King Uriah strode in haste with his men. Deep beneath Castle Lamourne, caves were excavated for safe passage out of the kingdom, but they were a labyrinth and one could easily get lost and spend his last days walking the tunnels that wormed throughout the bedrock.
Uriah cut right, then left, and then left again. He held out an oil lantern and it gave off a soft glow, illuminating the rocky passageway as he turned right at the next intersection. The five soldiers that paced him would be lost by now, so they made sure not to fall behind.
No one knew the tunnels as King Uriah did. He had lived in the castle all his life and as a boy he spent most of his time memorizing the dark caves. He would get lost for days so he kept a pack that held four days of rations, although he had never been lost more than three days, and since that day had never been lost again.
The king and his men made good time and when they emerged through the concealed cave exit, the moon was high in the sky. The king took his men through the trees a short distance and soon they walked into a clearing that was lit with tall torches. Bash and a dozen fully armed knights stood vigilant. Across the way, on the other side of the forest clearing, was a large lake and a narrow dock that splashed upon the tiny waves. The cold water was dark and shrouded with a heavy mist and a small rowboat made its way slowly from the other side.
King Uriah and Bash walked over to the dock and they climbed into a small rowboat. Bash grabbed at the oars and began to row while the king sat quiet. They made their way to the mid-point of the lake where another boat sat waiting. There, two figures sat patiently in heavy robes that covered their entireties.
Bash rowed until they were close to the other boat and then worked the oars to a stop. Dark waves lapped at the side of the two boats and a heavy fog lay thick all around them. The moon above glowed bright and it cast an eerie glow as one of the robed figures in the other boat pulled back his hood. He was Kadomi and he had long, thick, brown hair that was mangy like an animal’s and it grew thick around a strong jaw. He had a flat square nose and sharp black eyes that burned with hatred. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rough as if an animal had learned to speak.
“The Supreme Master has given me more demands to give to you,” the creature growled.
“I have already met his demands,” replied King Uriah in a deep and angry voice. “I will not give him more.”
“If you want The Supreme Master to help you crush the Northman then you will accommodate his demands!” the Kadomi’s voice resonated with power. His name was Bastion and he was second only to the Lord of the Kadomi.
“I have sent thousands of slaves to your cursed island to be hunted like animals! What more can he ask for?!” Uriah asked sternly.
“You will send one thousand ships full of your kind.”
“I don’t have a thousand ships to give!” Uriah replied with anger. “And I don’t have that many slaves for slaughter!”
“Then get them. Only then will you insure the help of the Kadomi Lord. You have no hope in defeating King Ironheart without The Supreme Master’s help,” Bastion’s deep voice was filled with disdain.
King Uriah growled with anger and frustration. “Your master better be there!” he spat. “The entire Kadomi army better be there, and it better not fail this time! You botched my last war with King Ironheart!”
“Your own kind stained the battlefield with magic, so you are to blame for your failure!” roared Bastion. “But it does not matter now, because your army has grown stronger! This time the Northman will not survive!”
“Agreed,” replied King Uriah. “Bash, take me back,” and the king’s shield grabbed at the oars and began to row back to the dock near the forest clearing.
Later that evening, the king sat before a large fire in his favorite chair and sipped at a glass of fine Arani Red and thought about the Kadomi Lord’s demand of one thousand ships and a hundred thousand slaves. Uriah thought back to the one time he had met the creature, and he remembered the cold touch of death that was at its fingertips.
Prince Uriah was eighteen and he was camping and hunting with his two older brothers in the Timberlands just south of the Asar River, which divided the Asarian Kingdom and the Arani Kingdom. Every year, Prince Uriah and his two brothers, Prince Farrior and Prince Gilmar, would spend one week camping in the forest. His twin brother, Prince Ezeria, was off on a fool’s errand at the Temple of Carami, wasting his time training with the monks.
It was late in the day and the setting sun was casting long shadows down upon the forest floor. Prince Uriah and his two princely brothers were tracking a large buck that had evaded them all that day. They were close now and the shadows that stretched across the forest floor were helping the three brothers to hide.
Uriah followed close behind. His two older brothers would not allow him the lead for he was third in line for the throne. Prince Farrior was oldest at a mature twenty-three summers. He was tall and strong, and the people loved him as they loved the king.
Prince Gilmar was second to the throne. He was twenty-one summers, and he too was kind and loved by the people. All Asarians in the Southern Kingdom were happy with the ruling class. Even Prince Ezeria was loved by all. In fact, he was the most adored, but he had no taste for politics and became an herb healer and went to the Temple of Carami to become a master healer.
Prince Uriah, however, was not loved. He thought his father was weak and too kind to the people. He felt the poor were not taxed enough and the nobles were not given their due, and he was tired of his father’s inadequacy to rule what could be the strongest kingdom in all Asaria.
Prince Farrior got down to the ground and motioned for his brothers to do the same. They had worked their way to a dense forest region and the thick trees were tall all around them. They lay in heavy brush and slowly crawled forward, inching along.
Uriah rose up and looked around when he thought he saw movement in the trees, shadows that moved with the setting of the sun.
“Get down,” Prince Farrior whispered harshly.
“I think there’s something–” was all Uriah could say before his brother hushed him and waved him back down. But Uriah wa
s frozen with fear as dark shapes came out from the trees just in front of his brothers. Then, more dark figures emerged to the left and suddenly there were more to his right. Instantly, the three brothers were surrounded by tall hulking Kadomi warriors.
Farrior and Gilmar, who were still on the ground, slowly rose to their knees, but then froze when two of the Kadomi warriors pulled their blades free and growled threateningly. The three Asarian Princes stayed motionless with their hands up to show no aggression.
Two large figures dressed in long thick robes walked out from the thick stand of trees, and Uriah was gripped with fear as the larger of the two approached and stood over Farrior.
On his knees, the prince looked up and stared in horror as the creature towered over him wearing a long thick robe made from the grey bear and black lion. Its hood was over its head, but two bright glowing orbs of white could clearly be seen, and they radiated power like nothing the three men had ever felt.
“Are you The One?” the Lord of the Kadomi asked in an otherworldly voice that echoed in their minds as much as it did the air. It reached out a large hand and grabbed Farrior’s head and held it there. Its long thick digits encompassed the size of his skull and sharp fingernails dug into his skin. “No,” said the creature and it easily snapped Farrior’s neck and let him fall to the forest floor.
Gilmar screamed and tried to rise but the Kadomi Lord grabbed his head and easily held him in place. “No,” the beast spoke the chilling words again, and he snapped Gilmar’s neck just as easily.
Then the huge figure loomed over Uriah and wrapped its large hand around his head. The Asarian prince kneeled there waiting to die, and then suddenly his head was free, and the creature hissed, “Stand, future king,” and Uriah stood with his head pounding from the vibrations of power. “I have done you a favor. When you are king, I will help you destroy the Northman and rule all of Asaria.” Uriah’s head pounded while small trickles of blood ran from his ears and nose.
“You have my word!” cried Uriah as he put his hands over his ears, trying desperately to stop the pounding and ringing. He dropped to his knees and put his head onto the forest floor and stayed like that until the rush of pain and pressure abated. When Prince Uriah finally dared to look up, he found himself alone in the forest with his dead brothers next to him.
King Uriah stood up slowly from his chair and was chilled from the dark thoughts on his long-ago encounter with the Kadomi Lord, and he began to walk with heavy footsteps as his cumbersome robe weighed him down. He went to the north tower and climbed the circling stone steps up to the top and then stepped out onto the towering wall. He breathed in the cold air as he stared far to the north and thought about his plans to conquer all Asaria.
He would send word the next morning to start confiscating all merchant ships around Dragonport. He wanted five hundred ships full of slaves and on their way to the island in the Eastern Ocean as soon as possible. All slaves that had lost their value were to be sent straight to Dragonport immediately.
King Uriah would also send word to Captain Waterrun to ready The Coral Rose and her crew, and to be advised that he would be sailing a small armada to the dreaded island.
A message would also be sent to Prince Hadias in the Timberlands, telling him to be thorough with the capture of every man, woman, and child, and that all slaves were to be shipped to the South straightaway.
**********************
The map was laid out across a large boulder and it showed the terrain of the Timberlands from the Asar River all the way north to the vale where Eight stood tall. It showed the trails and logger roads that ran east to the port city of Warmwater, and it marked the tight pass that ran through a long range of steep rocky hills that were thick with trees and forest brush. The pass was named The Woodcave because the trees grew heavy on both sides of the road creating walls and a dark ceiling of leaves and branches. Even in full daylight, the pass was dark as night and shrouded in mystery.
“Following these logger roads on horseback,” General Kneeamara said as she pointed on the map, “you will make The Woodcave before nightfall, plenty of time to ready your ambush. The escapees are here on this trail, but they go slow to accommodate the old.”
“Rakkus,” Kneeamara turned to a man of medium build wearing black leather armor and a short sword on his left hip. He was a scout and tracker for the Asarian army. “You and your men will herd the group to The Woodcave where Semik will be waiting.”
“Semik,” she turned back to the sergeant, “you will hide just behind the tree line and take them when they are about to enter the pass.”
Sergeant Semik stood across from Kneeamara and eyed her with disdain. He never liked the woman and found it an insult that she be placed over him. He had heard she was a witch, but he found it hard to believe and he looked forward to the day he could kill her. Of course, he would take his pleasures first and give her a slow and painful death.
“I don’t need further instruction. You may go,” said the brash sergeant. Semik was an intimidating man, large and mean. He had long greasy hair the color of dirt and it surrounded an unwashed face with a scraggly beard. He had a strong jaw and cold dark eyes that sat close together above a large nose. He wore a mix of chain mail and boiled leather armor and carried a long sword on his left hip.
Kneeamara stared hard at the sergeant, forcing herself not to kill the man where he stood. “I will say it again,” General Kneeamara warned, “do not kill anyone. Prince Hadias wants them all alive and if so much as one of them dies, you will answer to me.”
Semik gave a small laugh and shook his head. “I’m not worried about you. Now go on to your prince and I’ll take care of business here.” Sergeant Semik spoke to the general with such disrespect that it made her smile. She was already angry because Prince Hadias had instructed her to let Semik handle the escapees so she could ride back to the main army to be at his side. Now with the insolence of Semik, Kneeamara was fuming, and she liked the rush of power she got as she entered the sergeant’s mind.
“Rakkus, do not fail me,” Kneeamara said to the other soldier. “I do not trust Semik, but I do trust you. There are a select few in the group that must not be harmed. I do not want to take any chances, so no killing. Understood?”
Rakkus stood with Semik and Kneeamara, and while the general spoke, he could not help but glance at the sergeant as he stood unmoving and unblinking. It was as if Semik had been frozen.
“I understand, General,” Rakkus replied. “No killing. The prisoners will be treated well and brought to you.”
“Do not disappoint me,” said Kneeamara, her words like ice and she moved to her horse and mounted the animal gracefully. “Make sure you remind Semik that if he kills anyone, he dies painfully.”
“Yes, General,” Rakkus replied and Kneeamara put her heels to her steed and sent it off in a dash. Then Rakkus looked back at Semik and waited for him to respond.
******************
Semik stood with bare feet on an endless stretch of hot desert sand. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there, but he felt that there was nothing out of the ordinary, so he began to walk in the direction he thought was north.
Semik wore no clothes and there was a reason for it, but he couldn’t remember what it was, so he continued to walk briskly over the rolling hills of sand. The desert radiated a blistering heat and Semik felt as if he was walking on a hot bed of coals.
A small orb of glowing light so intense that it outshone the sun, hung high in the sky and threw down waves of scorching heat and Semik glistened with sweat. He was in the desert and he was naked with no supplies.
He continued to walk as large blisters on his feet formed and then broke. His skin was burned to a crisp red and his body began to sting as it continued to get hotter and hotter. The bright orb in the sky had grown larger and hotter over the time he spent walking the desert sands.
As Semik trudged along, he noticed that his skin was starting to peel, and the burning pain caused th
e man to rub at his arms and legs. Soon, the burning was accompanied by an insufferable itching and he scratched at his skin and watched it fall away in brittle flakes.
The glowing orb in the sky grew bigger and brighter and the intense heat that it emitted grew hotter. Then Semik realized the orb wasn’t growing larger, it was getting closer. He thought to turn and run, but realized it was futile, so he stood strong in place while the huge fireball fell from the sky, pounding the sergeant with a continuous blast of scorching wind and heat. The hurricane of fire blasted upon Semik and he wanted to scream out but couldn’t. He watched as his skin and underlying tissue fell away and the bone of his right arm was exposed.
Semik again tried to scream but couldn’t. He thought that if he could cry out in pain the suffering would be less. He just stood there and braced himself against the scorching winds, looking down and seeing the bones in his legs as more and more skin fell away. Soon, he was a skeleton and the pain he had endured was like nothing he had ever felt before.
Semik blinked and the tall trees of the surrounding forest came back into view. He immediately screamed out in rage and pain as his nervous system still burned with fire. The sergeant roared in fury as he remembered where he was and why he was there. He turned to Rakkus who stood there wide eyed as he watched him come out of his trance.
“Where is she!?” the sergeant yelled to Rakkus. “Where is the witch!? I’ll kill her!” and he drew his long sword and turned in circles to find the woman.
“She is gone,” said Rakkus calmly. “She rode back to Prince Hadias only moments ago.”
Semik yelled all the louder, cursing Kneeamara and promising her a slow and painful death. But she would have to wait, for he had a small party of Timberland folk to slaughter.
