by Brian Murray
“This is insane,” snapped Gan-Goran.
“I know, Gan, but it’s a Kharnack custom. You had better be ready to heal someone,” said Dax coldly.
Gan-Goran sighed, shook his head, and followed the others out into the crisp dusk air to face the Kharnacks.
***
Meanwhile, the Dark Brethren had left their shelter a few hours before, braving the weather to close the gap on the group who attacked the Grey Castle. The company had taken some of the black crystal drug and now hungered for blood. They moved swiftly towards their prey, not knowing the men had not yet moved away from their camp.
***
Outside the cave, the light began to fade so many of the Kharnacks held torches aloft. The flames cast long, dancing shadows on the undergrowth around the clearing. The warriors made a circle, with Chahar waiting patiently in the middle for Thade. Thade had not been in an arena-style fight for years. However, in a flash, all his gladiatorial training came rushing back to him. He smiled. He would never admit to it out loud, but part of him missed the arena: the cheers, the screaming of his name, the easy living, the woman and fame.
He removed his jerkin and tunic, and handed them to Dax. Turning to face the older man, he nodded and entered the circle of men, as was their ritual in the Phadrine arena. No words were ever spoken; the gladiators went in to fight, hoping to leave the circle of sand on their feet. Thade stretched his back and legs while the Kharnack warrior stood motionless, waiting. Thade finished his warming up exercises and stood with his gladiator swords at his side, opposite the broad, flat-faced Kharnack.
Kavlon watched the two men, convinced that his champion would win. Although the Rhaurn was slightly taller, Chahar was broader across the chest and shoulders and thicker in the arms and legs. With a glint of victory in his eyes, Kavlon screamed the order to fight.
Steel clashed against steel.
CHAPTER 6
Since the battle at Kal-Pharina against the Kharnacks and the Dark Brethren, Emperor Rowet—the Chosen—had spent most of his days visiting the major cities and ports throughout the Phadrine Empire. He wanted to show his people that he was indeed alive and well. Now after his long journey, the Chosen returned to the white palace in his capital.
On arrival, Rowet went to visit his wife’s grave. Alone, the Phadrine Emperor wept silently. After a long while, he entered the palace and went straight to his private chambers. There he busied himself with reports piled on his desk, trying to take his mind off his loss, and fretting over his daughter. Well into the evening, Rowet read through the various reports.
He had reinstated the Priests of the Chosen and a number of new recruits swelled their ranks. Citizens now saw the Chosen as a Man-God who could not die and they flocked to see him at every opportunity. Twice the leader had gone missing, presumed dead, and twice he had returned to rescue his people. The first time, his father, the Blood Emperor, had gone insane, killing his own people in a mad rage. Then he had returned to defeat the Darklord and his black-clad warriors—after everyone believed him assassinated.
The Chosen’s own son was part of the recent saga. He had helped plot his father’s assassination, but the emperor had survived, and with the help of King Zane and the Rhaurns, recaptured his throne. No one in his realm knew of the relics or of the rite to resurrect the Dark One. This he would keep to himself, and the few others close to him who already had this knowledge. The Chosen had decided there was no need to cause fear or hysteria among his people for no reason. What they did not know could not hurt them, or so he hoped.
Rowet finished his last report and sighed. Sipping fresh tisane, he glanced around the room. Most of the palace was polished white marble, but his father had decorated this room in gloomy wood panelling, giving it an oppressive feel. Only now did he realise he actually hated the room and made a mental note to change it. He finished his sweetly spiced tisane and rose. Opening the door, he smiled. Snapping to attention were his new Imperial Guards, warriors from the Landbow clan, standing silently along the white marble corridor. Since the retaking of Kal-Pharina, Rowet had kept these warriors as his personal guards. They had not complained and were the first clan to volunteer to help recapture his throne. All were proud to be their emperor’s personal defenders, seeing it as an honour rather than a chore.
Rowet strolled towards his sleeping quarters, but stopped and entered another room. He sat on the bed and closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw his daughter and smiled. He knew she should be travelling home to him, but did not know when she would arrive.
Ireen was the image of her mother with a smile that radiated happiness. Then he pictured a gladiator, and behind him a housemaid. Rowet’s smile broadened when he remembered his time with Cara and the others at Thade’s home. Thade had turned out to be a far better man than he had expected. Rowet recalled his departing conversation with Cara.
***
“It is very nice to meet you, your Highness,” said the plump woman.
“The pleasure is all mine, Cara, and remember it’s Rowet to you, never your Highness. Only my wife has got me to do what you have done, and it feels good to be normal again. For that, I truly thank you.”
“I am proud to know that.” Cara linked arms with the Emperor of Phadrine and pulled him to one side, out of earshot of the others. Her voice turned serious. “I know you have a wide choice of husbands for your daughter, but remember one thing: your daughter deserves to marry for love. And she’ll probably be the first empress of your nation. I know she and Thade are deeply in love, and marriage would be the best thing for both of them. It will also be the best for your nation, creating bonds between the Rhaurns and the Phadrine.”
“Have you ever thought about being a politician?” asked Rowet, smiling.
“I don’t care about that,” snapped Cara. “I care about my boy,” she concluded softly. “You give him a chance and you’ll see, he’s everything you want for Ireen and more.”
“I will.”
Cara held Rowet’s gaze for a long silent moment. “See that you do.”
“Are you threatening the Emperor of the Phadrine, the Chosen?”
“Absolutely. Don’t make me have to come to Kal-Pharina and tell you what’s what.”
***
Rowet chuckled to himself at the happy memory. Thade had proven himself to be a true man of honour who would make a fine husband for his Ireen. Moreover, Rowet knew Thade would defend Ireen with his life. He knew Zane, now King of Rhaurien, planned to marry an innkeeper’s daughter and Rowet respected the man for his decision. He wanted to tighten the bonds between the two nations and this might be one way to do so.
During his travels, he had mentioned Thade’s name and everyone remembered both the gladiator and Dax fondly—and all knew of Thade’s temper . . .
Rowet sighed and rose from the bed. Leaving Ireen’s room, he made his way to his own bedchamber. He paused by the door before entering the empty room, leaving two guards outside. Silently, he undressed and climbed into his cold empty bed. Thinking of his wife, the Emperor of the Phadrine fell into a dream-filled slumber.
***
Rowet opened his eyes; before him stood a woman in a white flowing dress. Her hair was silvery white, yet She appeared youthful and radiated beauty. In front of the Chosen, the man known as Rowet, stood the Divine One in Her full glory.
“Hello Rowet,” She said, Her voice sweet and musical.
Rowet looked around, and saw he stood in the palace garden that had previously been tended by his wife. The flowers and roses were in full bloom, with their sweet soothing scent filling the air. “What is happening?”
“You’re in bed in your white palace.”
The answer worried Rowet. “And who are you?”
“You know who I am, Rowet. Come, let’s sit down. There is much we need to discuss and very little time.”
Rowet watched the woman for a long while, then walked over the lush green grass and joined Her on a bench; the bench that he had shared with his
wife, where they would spend hours enjoying the sunset, sitting arm in arm. A tear crept from his eye. He looked up and saw the sun dip below the horizon. The clouds started to glow rosy red as the sun edged below the horizon. He sighed aloud and wiped away his tears.
“Why are you so sad?” asked the Divine One.
Surprising himself, Rowet answered honestly. “I miss my wife.”
“That’s one of the reasons why I have summoned you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rowet frowning.
“Your wife is being held by dark forces and I cannot show her the way to the Paradise that she deserves. Her soul was captured when she travelled to Paradise and now she is a prisoner. The Dark One has returned to the land of mortals and intends to use her against you. He will march on Kal-Pharina and kill the Children of the Light he finds there. You must . . . ”
“Where is she?” snarled Rowet, anger taking control of his mind and body. His dark eyes became hooded and he clenched his fists tightly.
“I can show you, but I cannot directly help you once we are there.”
“Take me to her. She deserves better than to be held captive because of me. I will get my wife.”
“It’s not you they want. They intend to use your love for your wife to make a choice.”
“What choice?”
“You know the choice. Look into your heart and you can see the decision you will have to make again.”
Rowet shook his head. “Why?” he whispered.
“You are a strong man and must face this task now or . . . ”
“Take me to her!” demanded the emperor, rising to his feet.
Abruptly the scenery changed, and Rowet found himself in a different place—a place where everything was grey. He stood on the Grey Path of Wandering Souls, between the realm of Paradise and Yallaz’oom.
For what seemed like days, Rowet followed the Divine One along the Grey Road. There was little talk between them. He had a lot to think about, his wife, his daughter, his empire and his new friends. He asked, “Am I still asleep in my bedchamber?”
“Yes, you are. Time here runs differently than in your world. An hour here is but a few heartbeats in your realm.”
The two approached a black mountain and the Divine One stopped. “I can go no farther; you must travel the rest of the way alone.”
Rowet looked at the Divine One and said nothing.
“I’ll be waiting here for you,” promised the woman.
Rowet strode off towards the black mountain without turning around to see if the Divine One was still there. Before him, held captive somewhere, was his wife, and he would get her back. He approached the black mountain, his mind calm, his body relaxed. The Phadrine Emperor was determined, nothing and no-one would stop him.
***
Thade stood facing the Silverswords champion, ready for the fight, his soul and body as one. As the call to start the bout went out, a band of black-clad warriors attacked the Kharnacks from behind. Many Kharnacks were killed as steel blades lanced into their backs—they never had time to defend themselves.
Now they fought against the Dark Brethren—Rhaurn and Kharnack warriors battling side-by-side. Terror washed over Thade’s body and he saw Chahar’s flat face drain of colour. Thade turned to look at Dax, who stood motionless with the same expression.
“Gan!” screamed Dax in near panic, a sudden, unnatural feeling of fear washing over him. The master-magiker smiled a wicked smile. Closing his eyes, he chanted a spell under his breath.
***
Rowet approached the black mountain and realised he had a gladiator sword, the sword created by Master Armourer Platos, strapped to his side. He tentatively touched the hilt; he was not sure if for luck or just to reassure himself the weapon was really there. Alone, the Emperor of the Phadrine stopped at the base of the mountain, ready for whatever might come. Slowly he drew his sword. From his left and right a thick, black mist oozed from the ground, hugging the surface, flowing like water. Rowet froze to the spot as the mist surrounded his feet. It thickened and filled, creeping up his body, locking his limbs. Covering his head, he felt his very soul being pulled from his body. Rowet closed his eyes from the searing pain, lancing his mind. His mouth opened in a silent scream and the mist dived into his mouth, smothering the sound.
The pain eased. Rowet slowly opened his eyes and his blurred vision cleared. Facing him some fifty strides away was a cage. Within the metal bars was his wife. Rowet tried to call her, but fear stopped the sound from leaving his throat. Leading up to the cage was a brightly lit path. On either side of the path was foreboding ominous darkness. He peered to his left, then to his right. All he could see in the blackness were sinister red eyes, glowing eerily, waiting. Overcoming his fear, he took a step forward.
From his left, a creature appeared and attacked him. The beast had the head of a rabid wolf, its maw full of yellowing teeth with steaming drool flailing from its lower jaw. It had the body of a large muscular man, covered in matted, fetid black fur.
Rowet killed the beast in a heartbeat, his sword lancing the beast’s heart. It vanished, merging with the blackness on either side of the path. Ahead he saw his wife looking at him, her right arm reaching through the bars of the cage, beckoning him to come for her. Rowet took another step forward.
From his right, another creature pounced. The beast of darkness knocked Rowet from his feet, its cracked talons scratching his face. Man and beast grappled on the ground. Rowet freed himself, leapt to his feet, and plunged his sword down, embedding it in the creature’s chest. With a howl, the beast disintegrated into rancid hissing smoke. Screaming at the top of his voice, Rowet cried for help.
His wife silently waited, still reaching through the metal bars. Blood trickled down Rowet’s face, dripped from his chin, and sizzled when it hit the black path. Looking at his beloved, he took a step forward. Again, from his left a creature attacked. It took longer to kill this beast, but eventually it lay motionless on the ground and then vanished.
Tears of frustration stung Rowet’s eyes. He was still a long way from his wife and now knew every step would result in an attack from another creature. Defeat and dejection filled his thoughts, but he prepared himself, taking a deep breath. He was about to take another step when he felt a presence behind him. Turning slowly, he raised his sword, ready. A huge figure with fiery red hair emerged from the shadows and menacingly approached the Chosen.
***
Gan-Goran finished his spell and covered all the Kharnack and Rhaurn warriors in an invisible protective cloak, repelling the Dark Brethren’s fear spell.
Instantly, the men regained their courage. They turned to face the charging Dark Brethren. Soon, the Dark Brethren’s blood flowed. Thade blocked a swinging sword aimed at Chahar and killed the black-clad warrior. Chahar nodded his thanks and smiled at the Rhaurn. Screaming a battle cry, he hurled himself into the fray. The two men fought back-to-back, killing the attackers. The two, once opponents, were now allies, defending each other like sword brothers. With very different styles, the two men killed all who stood against them. Comparing their swordplay, it would be hard to pick a victor if they had opposed one another in combat.
***
Through his tear-filled eyes, Rowet slowly recognised his friend’s distinct features. Lowering the sword, a weary smile crept onto his face. He now knew he had a chance.
“I was told you needed some help, my friend,” said the newcomer, his voice deep and assuring.
“It’s good to see you again, my friend,” replied Rowet, offering his hand. The two men shock hands, warrior style, at the wrists, then embraced.
“Well, let’s go and rescue your wife. A wife and princess are waiting for me. My princess is crying and you know how much I hate that.”
“Thank you for coming, Gammel,” said Rowet softly.
“You’re my friend, what else would you expect from me? Now let’s go and get your wife,” said the former smithy, reaching over his shoulder and pulling free t
he Great Sword, the broadsword his father had forged for him.
Side-by-side, the two friends edged forward, killing all the beasts that attacked from the shadows. With his friend at his side, Rowet fought with renewed vigour. The task which moments earlier had seemed impossible now seemed possible. Dripping blood and exhausted from constant fighting, the two men finally reached the cage holding the empress.
Rowet reached through the bars and touched his wife’s face. Tears flowed from her eyes, trickling onto his fingers. Taking a step backwards, Rowet swung his sword, but it only clanged against the lock. Swinging again, the blade bounced off the metal lock. Gammel touched the emperor’s shoulder and shook his head. Rowet stepped back. Gammel examined the lock and smiled at Rowet. He bunched his broad shoulders and with one mighty swing of his broadsword, the blade sliced noisily through the lock.
Opening the door, Gammel reached in. The empress took his hand and stepped clear of the cage. Rowet looked at his wife, dropped his sword and opened his arms, inviting her into his embrace. She fell into his arms and the two hugged fiercely. Rowet closed his eyes and held onto his wife, tears of joy streaming down his face.
He opened his eyes and to his surprise he was once again back in the gardens of his white palace, but now with his wife in his arms. Over the empress’s shoulder, Rowet saw Gammel. He smiled a tear-filled ‘thank you’ while he rocked his wife, whispering softly to her. After a long moment, the pair parted. The empress reached up and touched Rowet’s face where he had been cut by one of the beasts.
“I knew you would come, my love,” she said proudly. Rowet melted at the sound of her voice. He was truly happy.
From behind Gammel came a child’s scream. Gammel turned and caught his running daughter. Behind his daughter came his wife, Sharn, smiling broadly.
“I told you your bear would be back,” whispered Gammel soothingly to his crying child.
After the child’s tears stopped flowing, she noticed they were not alone. “Dadda, who are they?” asked Kreen, pointing towards Rowet and the empress.
