A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods

by Daniel Hylton

  Garren nodded, bobbing his round head. “It shall be done; I swear it.”

  Brenyn met his gaze for a long moment and then sheathed his sword. Turning on his heel, he made his way back toward the entrance to the hall but then halted and pivoted back to face the prince.

  “I will return before winter,” he told Garren, “to see that my instructions have been followed.”

  Garren bobbed his head rapidly once more. “It shall be done – I swear it.”

  Brenyn started to turn away again but then decided that his behavior had been too peremptory. After all, he had no desire to treat this man – or any other – with disrespect.

  Drawing himself up to his height, he faced the prince, and bowed. “Forgive my bluntness, if you will, Your Highness,” he said, straightening up again. “But the world is full of evil and I have little time for protocol. Even so, know this, I beg you – I am a friend and not an enemy.”

  Garren stared back at him for a long moment and then stood and inclined his head. “You will find me a friend as well, Brenyn Vagus. I swear it.”

  Brenyn met his gaze for a moment more and then turned and left the hall, followed by Murlet and Kristo.

  41.

  As the company left Ogalla and rode eastward, toward the mountains that crowded upon the distant horizon, and the sun slid down the western sky, Murlet moved his mount next to Brenyn and looked over. “I know not what to say to you,” he stated. “The things that you do astonish me.”

  Brenyn nodded shortly but returned no answer.

  “That was the behavior of a king back there, Brenyn,” Murlet continued, “the way you engaged with Prince Garren. Taumus was right – you are already altering the world for good.”

  Brenyn nodded once more, absentmindedly, and then met Murlet’s gaze with a frown creasing his forehead. “Who is the ‘one’ of which the darking spoke?” He wondered.

  Murlet shrugged. “It must be as I have long suspected,” he replied. “The race of darkings – they and their lords – must have a master somewhere, someone that guides their actions.”

  “Who is he?” Brenyn wondered again. “And where may he be found?”

  Murlet looked at him sharply. “You mean to seek him out as well?”

  Brenyn nodded. “Cut off the head and the serpent is thereby destroyed.”

  “He will be more powerful than even a darking lord,” Murlet warned. “Far more powerful – unquestionably so.”

  Brenyn nodded in agreement. “But if they have a master – a creator – then the power that they wield is his power, is it not? I have withstood a portion of that power – mayhap the magic that was bequeathed me is sufficient to withstand it all.”

  Murlet grimaced. “I would caution against going to seek this wicked darking master until you know more.”

  Brenyn nodded in agreement. “I have much to do anyway, Johan,” he answered. “I mean to surround you and Prince Taumus with allies – and with lands devoid of darkings – ere I go.”

  Murlet was silent for a time while they cantered along the road, only glancing over now and again.

  Then;

  “What are you, Brenyn? – truly?” He asked. “I heard a tale once, long ago, when I was very young, of a powerful wizard that dwelled somewhere off in the east of the world. Even darkings, so they say, feared him. Are you he?”

  Brenyn smiled and shook his head. “I was born in the land of Vicundium twenty-three years gone, and this road is as far east as I have ever journeyed. I am not that wizard.”

  “But you are a wizard indeed,” Murlet argued. “You must be a wizard. How else could you do these things?”

  Brenyn shook his head once more and the smile went away. “I am but a man, Johan. As I have told you many times – I know not how it is that I can do what I do. The how does not matter – it is that I can do these things that matters.”

  Murlet sighed. “Taumus asked you this, and I will also. If you want, should I regain the throne of my homeland, you may stay with me forever.”

  “If I could, my friend,” Brenyn replied, “I would do so. But I must hunt the darkings if you – and Taumus, and Garren, and the other princes of this part of the world – are to have a chance for peace.”

  “And when you have slain every darking in this part of the world?” Johan asked.

  “Then I will go and hunt their master,” Brenyn answered.

  Murlet sighed once more and glanced back toward the west. “The sun will set soon.” He looked around. At the moment, they traveled through a landscape of rolling hills and vales, populated by farms, where, here and there, small forests of trees crowned the heights. “We should look for a place to encamp.”

  For two days more, they journeyed through the hinterlands of Fralun, ever trending eastward. Around them, the landscape began to change and grow wilder. Farms and villages grew fewer and fewer and then failed. To their front, the Metallum Mountains rose up tall and dark on the horizon.

  Brenyn, riding beside Murlet and Riana at the head of the company as had become his wont, indicated the dark heights.

  “Magnus?”

  “No,” Murlet replied. “Those mountains define the border between Fralun and Magnus. Magnus lies just beyond.”

  Two more days of traveling brought them up through a cleft in the mountains and down the other side, where the company halted and gazed down upon the land of Magnus. Plains spread out before them, to the south and the east, broken, here and there, by ranges of hills. The plains were cut by the myriad shapes of farmed ground and villages dotted that level earth. Out upon the prairie, perhaps fifty miles from the base of the mountains, the spires of a large city gleamed in the sunlight.

  The view of a broad and apparently prosperous landscape, however, was marred by columns of dark smoke and clouds of dust that arose from several places across those plains, especially from one location some distance to the east, beyond the city.

  Murlet lifted his hand and pointed at the gleaming spires. “Veir,” he told Brenyn, “the city of my birthright.”

  Brenyn nodded in acknowledgement, but then he lifted his gaze further and studied the columns of smoke that arose beyond Veir, out upon the prairie. Some of those dark smudges were large – too large to arise from the burning of a single building or even a cluster of buildings. It appeared that many villages and towns had been put to the torch by the invading armies. The nearest column of smoke, quite large indeed, arose upon the prairie perhaps forty or fifty miles beyond Veir.

  “It appears that the conflict comes near to the city,” he told Murlet.

  Murlet nodded in sorrow. “I have no regrets for Shammed,” he answered, “but his fall will mean horror for my people, for as oppressive as he has been, the enemy armies, should they prevail – as it seems they may – will be pitiless.” He studied the evidence of the horror of war that hung in the distant air in silence for a time. “It appears as if half the land is aflame,” he said, and his voice was heavy with sadness.

  Brenyn looked over at him, but Murlet was watching the many tendrils of distant smoke and dust, his sharp gaze narrowed with sorrow.

  “Fear not, my friend,” Brenyn told him quietly, “we will see Shammed deposed and you seated upon the throne – and then we will go and evict the invaders.”

  Murlet turned his head and met his gaze then, and a frown of doubt took possession of his face. “I wish I could be as certain as you, Brenyn.” He lifted his hand once more and indicated the signs of death and destruction represented by the distant smoke. “The army of Magnus has been driven back from the borders and is very likely in disarray – how then will we rally them to victory?”

  In that moment, pressed by the doubts of his friend, Brenyn examined himself and discovered that the recent confrontations with the race of darkings had imparted a surety to him that had not been there before. He met Murlet’s troubled gaze. “I know nothing of my magic except that it exists,” he answered. “Even so, I have felt its great power, and it will suffice, I promi
se. I will drive the invaders from Magnus. We will need no army.”

  Murlet’s eyes narrowed; his frown deepened in response to this. “But how can you know this, Brenyn? You claim to have no control over your powers.”

  Brenyn nodded. “Indeed, it is true that I do not understand the magic that dwells within me. Even so, I have learned that when I am in jeopardy – and when those for whom I care are endangered – the power will ever arise. Darkings, especially, seem to cause it to arise. So, in effect, I can summon it, for I can place myself in the way of harm, and then it will come.”

  Johan continued to watch him for a long moment, his brow yet furrowed in doubt. “But can you be sure of this? – for I would not want you to die in a vain pursuit of something unwinnable.” He indicated the plains with the many columns of smoke marring the air above them. “The throne of my fathers may already be lost to me without remedy, Brenyn, and the war – though we led an army of thousands – unwinnable. And we are not thousands; we are few. It will necessarily fall to you and your strange powers. So, I ask once more – are you certain the magic will arise?”

  “It has been true thus far,” Brenyn answered. “Why would it forsake me now?”

  Abruptly impatient, he raised his hand to indicate the plains below them. “The enemy army even now draws to within perhaps fifty miles of Veir. We must hasten.”

  Murlet continued to watch him for another long moment and then he sighed and nodded. “Let us get on,” he agreed. “I give you my word that I will doubt no more.”

  He turned his horse down the winding road and Brenyn and Noris fell in beside him and Riana. Together, they led the column toward the plains. They camped in the forest near the base of the mountains that night. Just after dawn broke on the next morning, they approached the frontier of Magnus.

  Murlet held up his hand, bringing the column to a halt, and looked over at Brenyn. “I should go at the head as we approach the border post,” he said. “I doubt I will be known at once, but it may happen that I will know the soldiers that man the station.”

  Brenyn agreed, nodding in silent assent, and Murlet urged his mount forward, toward the hut and the gate that lay across the road. As they drew near, an old man, white-haired, clad in armor and the colors of Magnus, accompanied by a young boy who looked to be no more than twelve, also clad in ill-fitting armor, stepped out from the hut – though they did not approach the barrier – and eyed the group of mounted men that came riding toward them.

  The old man held his arm at the horizontal in front of the boy, as if protecting him and preventing him from going forward, while he decided whether to challenge the oncoming riders. Then his mouth dropped open and a glad smile spread over his face.

  “Prince Johan!” He exclaimed. “You have come!”

  Murlet dismounted and stared. “Tevor?”

  The old man grinned and nodded vigorously. “T’is no more ‘n me, Your Highness.” Tears sprouted in his eyes and he began to tremble. “You are a welcome sight for my old eyes, Your Highness,” he stated in tremulous tones.

  Murlet went to him and embraced him. “And I am glad to see you, old friend.”

  Murlet released him and Tevor glanced along the column of mounted men. “Have you come home then?” He asked.

  “I have,” Murlet answered, then he frowned and studied the young boy that accompanied Tevor before glancing around. “You are manning this post? – the two of you?”

  Tevor nodded. “All the young and fit lads were called away weeks ago when the enemy invaded. This frontier is one of those farthest from the front, so Harald and I were sent to watch it.”

  He swallowed, wiped at his eyes, and nodded. “And glad I am to have done so, for I gain the glad task of welcoming the true prince back to his home.”

  Murlet looked down at the boy. “What is your age, Harald?”

  The boy bowed awkwardly as he answered. “I was thirteen this last winter, Your Highness.”

  Murlet looked back at Tevor. “Are things so bad as this? – that, forgive me – old men and boys man the border posts?”

  Tevor nodded. “Durovia and its allies press us hard. Rumor is that Shammed will soon abandon the palace for the countryside, likely in the north of Magnus. Desertions abound.” His eyes filled again. “Veir, they say, will fall easily to the enemy and they are but a few leagues from the capitol now.”

  He shook his head in sorrow. “You have come home in very troubled times, my prince.”

  “Still,” Murlet answered, “I have come – and I mean to stay. I will go now toward Veir to see what may be done.”

  Tevor looked toward the few dozen mounted men behind Murlet and frowned in doubt. “What will you do with these few men, my lord? – or does an army follow behind you? For the armies of Prince Gatison of Durovia and his allies are many indeed.”

  Murlet’s gaze hardened at this. “No, we are what you see. But remember what you once taught me about the use of the pike and sword when faced with an enemy, my friend?”

  Tevor nodded. “Always keep moving forward.”

  “And that is what we will do,” Murlet answered. “We will keep moving forward until we find the enemy – and then we will move forward again.”

  Tevor glanced doubtfully once more along the column. “But there are so few of you, my lord.”

  His gaze grew hesitant as it came back to Murlet’s face and his tone took on notes of profound sadness. “I hope you have not come home after all this time only to die in vain, Johan. Magnus will need a living prince should it survive this war.”

  Murlet smiled and glanced for a small moment at Brenyn. “There is more to us than you can see with your eyes, my friend. We bring with us a great power. Wait here – and the word you receive may very well astonish you.”

  “A great power?” Tevor frowned. “What power, my lord?”

  Murlet’s gaze slid again, for an instant, toward Brenyn. “Has not rumor of the darking slayer come to Magnus?” He asked.

  Tevor kept his frown as he shook his head. “Darking slayer? – no, my lord. What is a darking slayer?”

  “A man has arisen in the world, my friend,” Murlet replied, “a man with the power to slay darkings and drive armies from the field. I have seen this man confront an army of five thousand and send them into retreat. And he travels in our company. Wait here, and keep your ear turned to the east and you may hear news that will astonish you.”

  Tevor stared at him and then looked again at the mounted men. “A slayer of darkings travels with you, Your Highness? – who can defeat armies? Who is this man?”

  “A friend,” Murlet answered simply. He embraced the old man once more and then turned away to mount up. “I must go, my old friend. The enemy draws near, and we must hasten.”

  Tevor wiped at his eyes and then drew his aged body up to its height and saluted him. “Your words have given me hope when I had none,” he stated in a trembling voice. “May heaven’s grace go with you, Johan, my prince.”

  “You and Harald remain here and stay safe,” Murlet replied, “and keep your ear turned for rumor from the east.”

  As they once more led the column eastward, Brenyn looked over at Murlet. “Is this the road that leads to Veir?”

  Murlet nodded. “And it is also the road that goes east from the capitol, and which the enemy no doubt travels even now.”

  “Must we tarry long there, at the palace? – after we remove Shammed?” Brenyn wondered. “For I am most anxious to go and meet the enemy army.”

  Murlet looked over. “What do you intend when we come face to face with the hosts of the invaders?”

  Brenyn shook his head. “I have not yet decided. Stop them, certainly – and make them leave the borders of Magnus – though how it will be accomplished, I do not yet know.”

  “Shammed may not now be at the palace,” Murlet said. “As Tevor told us; he may have fled. But whether he is there still or no, we will not tarry long, my friend, I promise.”

  Brenyn nodded. “We must
drive the enemy away and make certain that you have a land to govern,” he stated grimly.

  Murlet made to respond to this, but then closed his mouth and looked ahead along the road, urging his mount into a ground-consuming canter.

  Before mid-day, they began to encounter occasional groups of refugees coming westward from the direction of Veir, wagons with families and their possessions piled high upon them. By early afternoon, the trickle of fleeing people had become a stream; and ere the sun set and they paused to encamp, the stream of refugees had grown into a flood.

  The band encamped in a farmer’s field near a small group of these exiles and Murlet, along with Kristo and Brenyn, went over to speak with the refugees and to hear any news that they might provide.

  One of the wagons that had stopped for the night was driven by an elderly man who was accompanied by a younger woman and two small children. Murlet, who was unknown to them, introduced himself simply as a mercenary captain and asked what news they might have of conditions in the capitol.

  The man, after a moment of cautious hesitation, introduced himself as Kalvin, and then shook his head. “People are fleeing Veir, both toward the west and to the north,” he stated. Indicating the woman and children that accompanied him, he went on. “We were among the first to leave. When word came that my son was slain in battle and that the enemy was driving our forces back, I took my son’s wife and my grandchildren and left the city at once. I have another son who dwells in Fralun, beyond the mountains. That is where we go now. Prince Shammed, they say, will soon flee from Veir also, for the city is certain to fall.”

  He studied Murlet and glanced over at the encampment of men. “You are going toward Veir?” He asked.

  “We are,” Murlet affirmed.

  Kalvin shook his head. “As I told you, we were among the first to leave – many others will be escaping from the city now. The roads will be choked.”

  Murlet nodded at this. “Even so, we must go to Veir.”

  Kalvin frowned. “Why, young man? – why must you go to Veir? – it will be in the hands of the enemy within days.”