The Bloodied Shield

by Michael McKenzie

  "It reminds me of the tales my Father would tell me of how Dwarves questioned their prisoners." Ein adjusted the crown off his head. "Frustrating I can assure you, but his heart is in the right place."

  "Sometimes I would question the presence of a Heart, but considering he married Elandra," Rebekka grumbled before glancing around the room.

  They had dismissed the General of the Army, and the Council Members of the Alliance. Uthinmal Glimmersnow, the Elven Counselor, had not attended the meeting previous or this one, having 'taken ill'. It was concerning considering they were nearing five hundred years old, which had been the average life expectancy of one of the longer lived species of Rals.

  Both Rebekka Jakuul and King Ein Wingsteed have been alone for a few minutes, the Elderly Woman passing the missive she had gotten from her Niece.

  The King's reaction had been opposite of her own. They found it humorous.

  Rebekka did not.

  What did, however, put a smile on her face, had been the fact that they were coming home.

  "I could use Grigs for this Investigation with the Crusaders," Rebekka observed, returning her attention to the King. "His experience with the Shadow Guild will be very helpful in rooting out any shady dealings that may have transpired."

  "Speaking of shady dealings, how goes the clean up at Gorgreen's Estates?"

  Rebekka could not help but laughed sharply, then covered her lips.

  "Knowing that he suffered some sort of setback like this? Oh, Gods, it makes me feel young again." Rebekka stated spitefully. "Regardless, we know he is a Wizard, the knowledge has bled support for him from some of those who survived the Whispering Plague."

  "It was not all of the Mages' fault." Ein offered some hint of defense for Wizards in general.

  "The point is it was a magical blight." Rebekka corrected, gesturing towards the King with an outstretched finger as she added with thick layers of sarcasm. "Wizards practice Magic so they MUST be guilty."

  The City Liege of Westwatch snorted in disgust, slumping further in her chair. "And we are now finding out that the Din invaded Kallax because of something to do with the Undead within a Pantheon Hall. So the fools who believe we are using Magical instruments to control people through ale consumption are of course connecting things that have no business being connected because they assume it's feasible."

  A knock on the door drew their attention, more so from the King.

  A steward cracked open the door and stepped in.

  "Trezzar the Red to see Rebekka Jakuul."

  Rebekka watched as Ein squirmed slightly in their chair. Trezzar could force their way in if they so inclined, and they were here seeking Rebekka.

  "I would be remiss in denying her." Ein gestured casually, keeping their voice steady.

  The steward bowed, then opened the door further.

  Trezzar wore a heavy black cloak, with a wide hood thrown over her head. Without further prompting they stepped in, turned sharply and physically directed the steward out, before slamming shut the heavy oaken door.

  "That idiot had me waiting in the sun." Trezzar hissed furiously, and promptly walked towards them, pointedly closing every curtain on her way over.

  With the room sufficiently darkened, Trezzar turned, making a quick series of gestures towards torch sconces along the walls. After, she snapped the fingers of her outstretched hand, then pulled off the Robe to leave it at the end of the table. Even as the fabric settled, the scones erupted into flames in unison.

  Trezzar was a mix between two elven cultures but normally stuck to being called a Dark Elf to avoid confusion. Their skin was obsidian, her ears were sharp and elven. Her hair had been snow white, and left in a braid so long that it wrapped around her shoulders like a mantle and still swung dangerously close to the floor.

  The armor she wore had been form fitting and decorative, leaving very little to the imagination, and her voice was as exotic as her body.

  Trezzar the Red was also a Vampire, a creature cursed with unlife and needed to feed on blood to sustain herself.

  Ruby eyes and ruby lips told of her discomfort even before she settled next to Rebekka. There was a sheen on her skin as if Trezzar had been running for an extended period of time.

  "Excuse my boldness my Liege." Trezzar offered a bow of her own, "But I was standing for nearly an hour in the daylight, waiting for that fool of a steward to announce me."

  "Any longer I would have killed the cretin."

  "Forgive my steward, Lady Trezzar, but not everyone knows of your allergy to sunlight."

  "Bursting into flames is not an allergy." Trezzar snapped harshly, and both Rebekka and Ein flinched beneath the Vampire's lashing tongue.

  "Forgive me there." Trezzar recanted politely, "I expended some power in order keep myself from composting. I am irritable when exuding magic."

  "Yet, I come with three bits of news, if you will hear them."

  Ein nodded, as if he really had a choice, "Go ahead."

  "First, my little secret might not be so secret for long." Trezzar pulled a piece of parchment from her breastplate. "This was nailed to a Tavern door near the Northern Gate."

  Rebekka took it, scowled, then passed it to the King.

  It was a proclamation for willing adventurers to seek out and slay the Vampire plaguing the City of Westwatch.

  "You haven't-" Ein started, and Trezzar shook her head.

  "-No, I have not, and the only reason why I had been directed there had been a friend passing around the outskirts," Trezzar observed, her eyes never leaving the parchment. "The paper is of fine quality, and the words are printed by a press, not handwritten. I dare say there are more out there."

  "That had not been up for long because the parchment still had a whiff of flowery perfume on it."

  "Someone in the Nobility," Ein noted scornfully. "And there were few and far between who know.”

  "Dalitrous would have known." Trezzar pointed out.

  "How?"

  "He is a Wizard after all," Rebekka explained, but Trezzar smirked slightly.

  "No, he is something far more sinister than a Wizard." the Dark Elf corrected, leaning back in her chair, "But that is not my place to explain what he is."

  "And whom would have the place to say?"

  "My Father." Trezzar motioned with her head towards the door as if indicating that Razzar would be behind it. "He is on his way from the Din Enclave as we speak, with a young Charles Jakuul in tow."

  "What?" Rebekka asked, rather shocked.

  Even the King's face twisted in confusion.

  "Charles had been on Lerst, with the Knights of the Mist," Rebekka stated, utterly dumbfounded. "That, that is a very long way away from here."

  "Yet he is very much home." Trezzar nodded, amused with their shock. "Do not ask me how. I neither know nor care to fathom it. Again, knowing my Father's methods are as infuriating as trying to keep track of where he is."

  Rebekka and Ein both exchanged perplexed looks, still confused.

  "And thus the last bit of news, which may not be as shocking as the previous." Trezzar continued as the others remained silent. "Lord Dalitrous Gorgreen is asking for sanctuary, he feels that his life is in danger, and it may well truly be considering the amount of raw power it took to bring down his home."

  "I would accept him in the Castle, if I did not know already he was a traitor." Ein's face twisted into a light scowl. "Yet if I do not accept him, then that will again, tip our hand that we know something is running afoul with the Darkscale Empire."

  "The Invader Cult. Our enemies are the Cult, not the Empire" Rebekka shifted, pulling herself out of her own shock.

  "I will provide him sanctuary."

  Now it was Trezzar with the King offering Rebekka a long look of profound confusion.

  "That old adage of keeping my friends close, yet my enemies closer," Rebekka commented, looking between the two. "What can he do to me short of killing an old woman?”

  Rebekka shrugged, now gazing of
f as she continued to speak.

  "Politically it will help re-cement himself within the Nobility, as well as show the people a form of Unity that two political Rivals have come together in this crisis with the Darkscales."

  "What Gorgreen will suspect is that I am extending a hand to him in order to keep him in check, not knowing that we already know of his duplicity."

  "And if he strikes out against me whenever this attack happens, well." Rebekka paused a moment, offering a weak smile.

  "Whatever Dalitrous Gorgreen is, even if he kills me, I will be the first Warstalker to bloody him, not Jeria."

  Chapter 4

  To say Jeria had been eager to head North had been an understatement.

  The man may have paced within the Lord's Office all night, waiting for Commanders to gather so they could plan the March. Islin and a subordinate Paladin named Iyrest Ilithorn, son of the Din who slew Jeria's brother in an Ambush, had been last to arrive.

  Islin did not look pleased.

  Jeria knew why, simply because Iyrest had been here.

  Yet as they started to settle for a meeting, a call for alarm rang out.

  Jeria streaked down the stairs, through the Main hall, through the inner gate before standing within the Outer Court Yard when he noticed eyes were up and fingers were pointed skyward.

  A Rok-Griffon.

  The Samurai himself had never seen one in his life. All Jeia had even seen had been the small, cat-sized creatures simply known as a Griffon. With the body of a cat, the wings and head of a predatory bird.

  This one was bigger than Grok, who happened to be considered one of the largest specimens of his own kind. It was covered in armor, the rider equally so, but details were hard to make out on a beast that circled once just above the walls. There was no way for it to land within the Courtyard, and the Rok-Griffon quickly shot out towards the edge of the City.

  Jeria felt Grok brush against him lightly and taking the reins, the Samurai was the first one out of the Gate before anyone else could find themselves a horse.

  The Rok-Griffon had landed a few hundred feet from what had been the Gate to the City. The gate, or what was left of it, was still damaged since the Siege that had taken place little less than a few weeks ago. People were already started to gather at the ruined arches, and were quick to part for the Lord-Protector and his Worg.

  The Rider of the Rok-Griffon had dismounted, and removed their helmet, revealing a graying haired man with a scar running over their lip and disappearing into a bearded chin.

  As Jeria drew closer, he noted that both the rider and their flying mount were wearing damaged armor with a visible bandage on both, staunching old wounds.

  "I am Lord Trevayne." the armored man announced. "I seek Sanctuary for myself, my men and my people."

  Jeria slipped off of Grok, patting them on the side as the wolf-like creature sniffed in Trevayne's direction.

  "You must be the Worg Rider." Trevayne gestured with their helmet. "The Ironguard and the Mercenaries we passed by on the road spoke of you."

  Jeria remained silent a moment more, until Grok snorted, and flicked their ears, neither interested or impressed by the winged creature before them. The Rok-Griffon, in kind, had studied them, and lost interest in the pair as well.

  Neither of their mounts sensed any sort of danger it seemed.

  It was then Jeria spoke.

  "My Daughter would more than likely provide you with the care you seek, however she may tell you herself."

  "I assume that is her riding headlong out here, looking rather upset?" Trevayne asked with a raised brow.

  "I wanted to be out first, in case you were some sort of challenge." Jeria answered truthfully.

  "I assume you intended to fight me if I was?"

  Jeria offered a shrug, then turned as Grok did to see a slew of riders rushing towards them.

  "Lord Trevayne of Havon?" Zansui called, slipping from her horse to give her Father a quick glare.

  Trevayne smiled sadly.

  "Just Lord Trevayne. My Estates are in ruins, and short of the people I kept within the wreckage of my walls, I have nothing other than a few hundred ducats, my sword, and old Blue here." the Graying Lord reached out and patted the Rok-Griffon as Jeria had done the Worg. "I've brought my people northward to the only semblance of civilization. Some went to Keystone, few stayed behind to try and rebuild."

  "Is it that hopeless?" Zansui asked, frowning at the news.

  "It would be best if we talked amongst your Commanders, and well out of the public ear," Trevayne suggested with a gesture.

  "Come, we will make room for your steed within the walls." Zansui bowed, then turned towards her Father again. "And you, you should have waited for a proper escort."

  "I have Grok making sure I behave," Jeria replied evenly, directing the next towards the large gray beast. "Isn't that right?"

  Grok offered a soft woof to indicate that they were, of course, making sure Jeria behaved.

  Zansui rolled her eyes, then returned to her Horse.

  <><><><><><><>

  "Where to start?" Trevayne asked them. The Office had been filled with the respective Captains.

  The Corsair, Alistair Featherfall, Captain of the City Watch. The Local Rilstarin, who had called Kanoi home all of his life, Ferguson Wrymstone, Captain of Warstalker's Men-At-Arms. The Plainstrider Elf Captain of the Outriders, Nemon Concasidoria, fresh from the Healer's care after suffering a near-crippling back injury in battle nearly a month before.

  Dratin, the Ferios Broodling, who currently commanded Jeria's band of Raiders.

  Then there was Islin, the Din Paladin in charge of all Din Forces in and around Reikard's Shield, and their new second in command, Iyrest Illithorn, only because the female they were replacing, Iltu Isounder, had lost her leg recently.

  Jeria did not want Iyrest here but kept himself in check.

  It had been Zansui sitting at the head of the desk, with her husband, Grigs, standing next to her.

  Everyone was attentive, but Jeria himself wanted to simply head North without the story.

  "The Lord of Icewyrm Wall, Oglar, sent me a missive requesting assistance with a matter between my lands and his own within the Province. Seemed there had been bandits taking liberties to Dwarven Goods, and the Outriders were nowhere to be seen."

  Trevayne turned to Nemon and nodded. "I have been made privy to your sufferings and I offer my condolences."

  Nemon, who preferred to go by Nemo, simply returned the nod and gestured for them to continue.

  "I sent a detachment, two hundred infantry and a half company of Archers. The Captain, a young brigand named Panwen Gwyn, smelled something funny to say the least, and purposely failed to show to the rendezvouses.”

  "Instead, Gwyn skirted around the location and came from the opposite direction, where he came to the horrific discovery of Malto Knights waiving Darkscale banners arrayed to crush them had they arrived at the specific place at the specific time."

  "The Captain, knowing they would not make it over the open field, charged through their ranks, put the Darkscales in complete disarray, then stayed behind with volunteers while the rest of the force returned to warn Rilstar of an Invasion from an unlikely direction.”

  Trevayne hesitated and shook his head grimly. "I posthumously Knighted the young Gwyn, and I have a list of names of every Rilstarin soldier who stayed behind. Twenty of my men held what could have been the whole of Malto at bay while their comrades withdrew to safety. I want to hand them to the King for recognition in giving their lives for the Kingdom."

  Silence lingered, and Trevayne continued.

  "At any rate, I mustered my forces, cleared what villages I could and prepared for a siege. I harried them the best I could with what I had but I am afraid that if they had not altered their attention, we may have fallen."

  "I saved what people I could, but those who did not arrive within my walls at Havon, I do not know what happened to them. I have maybe, six hundred men, wo
men, and children, to young or too old to anything else but cower."

  "Of my forces, I have maybe less than a Company Strength capable of fighting. The rest are dead, far too wounded or simply spent."

  "Out of ten griffon riders, I have myself, and Blue. The others did not make it."

  "Why did you not surrender?" Iyrest questioned.

  "My Grandfather surrendered to the Din." Trevayne replied, their face twisting slightly as if they were insulted. "I return your question with another, why did they turn him to stone and smash him with hammers?"

  Iyrest's expression became thoughtful, but they remained silent.

  "They did not ask for our surrender. In kind, we did not offer it as a subject. However, it was thought of." Trevayne admitted, their shoulders slumping slightly. "Out of all of our messengers, how could no one know we were being attacked?"

  "Treachery," Jeria answered, drawing the room's attention. "Simple, ordinary, treachery.”

  "At any rate, I am pleased you managed to save who you could." Zansui nodded towards Trevayne. "But I asked you if it was that hopeless, you have yet to answer."

  Trevayne reached into a side pouch and produced a small black ring of some sort. He tossed it on the desktop. Everyone but Zansui and Iyrest instantly reacted with gasps and shocked swearing.

  Jeria nearly plunged forward to snatch it from where it landed, snarling in disgust.

  It was a simple circle within a circle, complete with a line through both. That was all it was.

  But it was the Mark of the Nameless Cult.

  "I take you've seen this before?" Trevayne questioned as he looked around the room. "Every village I've sent scouts to, the ones well outside the marching path of the advancing army? All of them had insignias of some such like the one you have in your hand."

  "They reported seeing things in the shadows of the wood. Black things, and I do not fault them for rushing back with news then investigating it further."

  Jeria stared at the thing. Hated it. Then the Samurai heaved it away towards the wall in contempt.

  "They are called the Nameless Cult," Zansui observed, positive that her Father's reaction meant that Jeria had the same feelings towards black magic. "What I can glean from what I've been told, it’s some sort of new Religion focusing around a kind of Necromancy we've never seen before."