Lucinder suppressed a wince at his father’s name openly being tied to the Dark Prophet. He had already known the truth of the statement, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel more real.
“We’ll attack quickly and make it seem like we’re going for the Bowl,” Bertrom continued. “But while the enemy converges on the location, we’ll get our friends out and come for you.”
“You have enough men for that?” Lucinder asked. Bertrom had been so dour before.
“If we time things right . . . yes.” Bertrom said with a nod and though there was confidence in his voice, Lucinder sensed that the man was trying to convince himself. “We’ll just have to lean more heavily on our friend here in the palace. It’ll be dangerous, but there is no better option and you are worth the risk.”
Lucinder didn’t know what to say to that.
“We’ll have to cut off your toe with the spell on it, though. Can’t have them tracking us.” Bertrom chuckled apologetically. “You’re not too fond of that toe, are you?”
Lucinder was surprised by how little he cared about his toes at the moment. He laughed. “I can do without it.”
The warrior released his shoulder and tousled his hair, then picked up the glowing cube and stood on the window ledge. “I go now to tell the others. In a few days I’ll get back to you with instructions.”
“Thank you, Sir Bertrom. But I-.” Lucinder spun around as he heard a knock on the door. His door opened, and a servant stepped inside. When he looked back, the named warrior was gone.
The servant walked to the prince’s breakfast platter and let out a worried grunt. Likely, he had been commanded to make sure that Lucinder ate. “You haven’t touched your food, my prince.” He turned his head and looked out of the open window. “Is the sun too bright for your headache? Would you like me to draw your curtains?”
Lucinder rushed to the platter and sat back down. “No, it’s fine. I was just waiting for it to cool down.” He ate several bites of the cheese-covered honstule and the servant gave him an encouraging nod.
“Very good, my prince,” he said and waited and watched while Lucinder finished every bite.
Lucinder now had a pained stomach to go along with his headache, but the servant went away happy. He waited for the door to shut behind the man, then rushed to his window to peer out and make sure that Bertrom was truly gone.
Sighing, but filled with determination, he shut the window and drew the curtains. He went back to his bed, intending to lay in the darkness and try to ease his pains, but his mind was too restless. After a few agonizing minutes, he left his bed and approached his bookcases, looking for any volumes of history that he hadn’t yet read.
Over the next several agonizing days while he waited for Bertrom’s return, Lucinder pushed his headache aside and focused on his studies. He went through several previously untouched histories and thumbed back through volumes he had read before, looking for any and all mentions of the Dark Prophet.
What he learned did little to calm his fears. He didn’t find any mention of the prophecy Bertrom had spoken of, but he did read about the horrors perpetrated under the Dark Prophet’s reign. More importantly, he learned about the man that the Dark Prophet had been. His name had been David and he was one of three prophets that the Creator had placed in charge of the races of the Known Lands.
Matthew was the prophet placed in charge of the demon and blood magic races. John was the prophet in charge of the human race and was made the caretaker of all holy sites. David had been placed over the goblinoid races. Each of these prophets watched over their charges in their own ways.
John walked among the humans and guided them in small ways, teaching those who he felt would make the most difference in humanity’s development. He organized the Mage Schools and set powerful guardians to protect each holy site from destruction. He was widely respected and was to this day referred to by most everyone only as the Prophet.
The races in Matthew’s care were born with powerful magics and he chose to rule them from a distance. He set them in enmity against each other and managed their populations with magic to keep any one of the races from growing too strong. This method of rule caused bitterness among his races and they began to call him the Stranger.
David was given the most troublesome of races. The goblinoids were fierce and unruly and had a tendency towards violence. He felt that the only way he could protect the world from them was to subjugate them to his will. He ruled over them with a brutality that matched theirs. For many years, he kept them leashed and they began to worship him as a god. David resented them for this. He resented Matthew and John for being given the easier races. He became used to being worshipped, though.
In some of the histories Lucinder read, David had learned through holy prophecy that he was the rightful god of this world. The Creator had abandoned it to him. In other histories, David simply grew mad with power and desired to have more than mere goblinoids at his beck and call.
Whichever tale was true, David felt he had the resources to claim the world as his own. Since the goblinoids bred as fiercely as they fought, he had vast hordes at his command. He began to spread his grasp, reaching out to those of other races and conquering those that would not join him. People began to call him the Dark Prophet.
Centuries of wars came from his thirst for power. John fought back against him time after time and finally, two hundred years ago, he led a group of warriors and wizards to David’s palace and slew him. They returned to their lands triumphant and it seemed that they had been successful. To most of the world the Dark Prophet was gone forever.
The voice that had spoken in his mind since he was a small child had been the source of so much evil in the world. Lucinder shivered in realization that his parents had known the Dark Prophet’s plans for him before he was even born. The thought that his parents had raised him simply so that his mind might be hollowed out so that the Dark Prophet could return to power left him sobbing. No wonder his mother couldn’t even look at him.
As more days passed, he began to fear that Bertrom’s rescue wouldn’t come. Lucinder considered jumping out the window of his own volition. How easy it would be to save the world. And by doing so, he would perhaps save those planning a reckless attempt to rescue him.
There was something about the idea that made him feel every bit as courageous as the heroes of legend he so admired. One morning, he actually opened the window and started to climb onto the ledge. But fear of the dizzying drop caused his courage to wither and Sir Bertrom’s promise of rescue gave him an excuse to back down. He returned to his room and shut the window. As he stood next to it, shuddering with guilt, his head searing with pain, there was another knock at his door.
The servant that came in with his breakfast barely spared him a glance. She left a platter laden with food. Lucinder stumbled over to it, intending to throw the food onto the ground in defiance. As he grabbed the edge of the platter, he felt something under it. A folded slip of paper.
Lucinder opened the paper and read the note inside, hope renewing within him.
Our plan is in motion. Watch the city at night. Fires will announce our arrival. Have courage and be sure to destroy this note – Knight Bertrom.
Chapter Twenty Two
Sir Edge – Puppets
Edge and his companions followed Jhonate’s trail to the northwest for two weeks without any major problems. They were fortunate that the weather remained fair, if a bit chilly. Deathclaw and Rufus never lost track of her scent for more than an hour or so before picking it back up.
Jhonate mainly kept to roads and thus far was traveling in the direction they assumed she would. One thing that did change was that the roads became more and more populated with travelers. Most of them were gray-clad pilgrims who were no trouble to the party, generally keeping their heads down and moving off of the road while Edge and his friends traveled past them. Unfortunately, their tracks made Jhonate’s scent harder to distinguish.
The pace of th
eir tracking became agonizingly slow for Edge’s taste, but they gradually made up ground on their quarry. When they had left the spot of Vern’s ambush, Jhonate and the thief had a full two days lead on them. By the time those two weeks had passed, they were only a day behind.
To Edge’s relief, the Bash Brothers weren’t much of a distraction. His main misgiving about hiring them on for the journey had been the possibility that the three huge orcs would slow the party down. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. The runes that were tattooed on their skin enhanced their bodies in many ways, including giving them increased stamina.
They were able to keep up with the pace of the tracking quite easily and when it came time to stop for the night, the Bash Brothers were a great help. They did a fine job setting up a camp site. Delvin and Chester did most of the work, clearing brush, gathering wood, and digging a firepit while Evastus observed and called out encouragements.
The brothers were more genial than any orcs Edge had ever run across. They bantered with the rest of the party, shared jokes, and told stories of their mercenary adventures. Fist and Rufus hit it off with them right away and spent their evenings laughing with the orcs by the fire. Lenny and Deathclaw were more standoffish, but after a few days of complimenting Lenny’s cooking at every meal, even the dwarf grudgingly began to enjoy their company.
Edge couldn’t quite join the others in their enthusiasm. No matter how entertaining the three orcs’ act was, he knew that it was an act. Evastus was alive, but something had happened to the souls of the other two. Squirrel called them dead, but Edge didn’t think that was true. They didn’t act like the kind of animated dead he had dealt with in the past.
Perhaps Delvin’s and Chester’s bodies were constructs of some kind. That would explain why his sword’s power didn’t work on them. Their souls could be inhabiting the minds of the bodies without filling them completely. This would have many benefits, such as allowing them to ignore pain or discomfort that would bring down other creatures.
He wasn’t certain if they had done this to themselves on purpose or if someone had forced this situation on them, but he found it difficult to trust them. Until he could figure it out, Edge did his best to distance himself from the likeable orcs.
One night after dinner as the brothers sat around the campfire joking with Rufus and Lenny, Edge saw something that sparked his curiosity. Evastus had developed a facial tic. Each time one of his two brothers made a remark his right eyelid would flutter. This had never happened before that Edge had seen.
“The ground started rumbling like there was a quake or something!” Chester was saying, his wide smile displaying craggy teeth. “So we turned around and looked up and guess what we see rolling down the mountain towards us?”
“What?” asked Rufus eagerly, leaning towards them.
“A turtle!” the brothers said in unison and Evastus’ eyelid twitched again.
“A huge rock turtle,” Delvin added, spreading his arms as wide as they would go.
“Dag-gum!” said Lenny. “I done seen them things. Some of ’em are big as blasted hills!”
“This one was,” Evastus agreed. “It was so big we thought the mountain was crashing down on us!”
“We didn’t have much time to think,” Chester said. “So me and Delvin picked up the merchant’s wagon and carried it off of the trail.”
“Just in time too,” said Delvin and Evastus’ eye twitched again. “The turtle nearly hit us. It still squished one of the horses.”
Rufus hand went to his mouth. “Ouch!”
“Wonder what could get such a big thing tumblin’ down the mountainside,” Lenny mused.
The three brothers chuckled and Chester said, “We think it just stepped too close to a cliff and fell off. Wanna know why?”
“When it rolled past us, its big floppy head looked right at me,” said Evastus. “And it looked so embarrassed!”
They all roared out in laughter and Evastus’ eyelid quivered with each bellow.
Squirrel chose that moment to skitter swiftly up Edge’s body and crouch on his shoulder. The creature might have been old for his kind, but he could still move swiftly when he wanted to. Fist was already asleep in his bedroll nearby, but Squirrel still managed to send his thoughts through the ogre’s side of the bond. Do you see that?
I do, Edge replied mentally.
As do I, said Deathclaw, who was peering down from a tree overlooking the camp. He was uneasy, watching them with one hand on a throwing dagger, as if at any moment they might attack.
What do you think it means? Squirrel asked. No sooner had Squirrel asked the question, than the other two orc brothers began to exhibit a similar eyelid twitch, but from their left eyes.
Perhaps they are breaking, Deathclaw said. The twitching was done in concert, all three eyelids moving at the same time.
Squirrel nodded quickly. Yes, that would make sense since the two bigger ones are already dead.
Why do you keep saying that? Edge asked.
I can smell it, Squirrel said. Like a body that’s just starting to decay.
I don’t smell that, Deathclaw disagreed, confident that he couldn’t possibly miss something like that. They have an odor, but that is just the smell of unwashed orc.
Maybe I have become more Deathclaw than you, Squirrel suggested smugly.
Perhaps it’s time I talk to them about this, Edge replied. As he said this, a sudden chill breeze blew through the bond and Edge sensed that a pair of ice blue eyes were peering through his own.
How interesting, said Artemus’ wizened voice within his mind.
Edge smiled. Artemus!
You are awake a bit earlier than usual, Deathclaw observed.
Indeed, the wizard said. Since our last engagement, the elemental and I have come to an arrangement.
Is that so? Edge said. He was unsure whether this was going to be good news. The last time Artemus had wakened, the old wizard had been unable to keep the Scralag completely at bay. When we last spoke, you said that the time for you to use your powers solely to protect others had passed.
Artemus took a moment to respond. Yes. This is true. Our purpose will soon be at hand. The elemental knows this and has agreed to . . . work with me.
He has? said Edge. In what way?
I have agreed to use him in battle and he has agreed to leave me be when I decide that his presence is not needed, said the ancient wizard.
Good! said Squirrel.
Edge was less enthusiastic. Last time you used the Scralag’s presence, you rushed into battle on your own.
Artemus let out a sigh. Yes, well, his ability to cooperate is a work in progress. I do believe it will get better.
Does this mean you won’t have to sleep for weeks every time you fight? Deathclaw asked.
I am not completely certain, the wizard replied. The elemental will still need to rest to recharge our power, but perhaps I will be able to remain awake and present.
I would like that, Edge said. Even if Artemus wasn’t able to use his power, his presence within the bond was always a welcome one. The wizard often saw and understood things that passed the rest of them by.
Artemus shifted his attention back on the three twitching orcs. I see you have a new companion.
Three of them, Edge said and sent the wizard his memories of everything that he had noticed about the brothers through the bond. I know that Delvin and Chester are somehow living without the use of their souls, and that they are all somehow connected but their exact nature eludes me.
You don’t see the spirit magic that connects them? Artemus asked.
I’ve looked for it before. Edge switched to spirit sight, but nothing about them particularly stood out.
Artemus let out an amused grunt. It seems that my existence as a being of pure spirit has some advantages after all. There is a faint line of magic that leads from Evastus to the others. Perhaps if you get closer you will see it.
I’ll look too, said Squirrel. He hopped down from E
dge’s shoulder and scurried over to the three warwielders.
His curiosity piqued, Edge walked over to them. The twitching was even more obvious than before. Rufus hadn’t noticed. He was laughing at some joke they had made, slapping the ground with a huge hand.
Lenny, however, was watching them with one bushy eyebrow raised. “You boys alright?” the dwarf asked them.
Delvin and Chester cocked their heads. “What do you mean?”
Lenny pointed. “Yer eyes are twitchin’ somethin’ fierce.”
The three orcs raised their hands over the affected eyes. “Oh, that just means we’re tired,” they said in unison.
“You sure?” Lenny said. “Yer eyelids are flappin’ like gad-flamed shutters in a windstorm.”
“It’ll be better in the morning,” Evastus assured him and the other two brothers nodded.
While they were speaking, Edge walked around behind them. Artemus spoke encouragingly in his mind. Look at the back of their necks. That seems to be the source of the magic.
Oh! I see! Squirrel had climbed up to Chester’s shoulder and was pointing directly to a cluster of runic tattoos on the back of his neck right at the base of his bald head. Spirit runes.
Interesting, said Artemus.
Edge leaned in closer, his eyes straining, and he was just able to make out a very faint line of silvery gray magic leaving the base of Evastus’ head and entering the runes on the backs of his brothers’ necks. Lenny saw Edge’s close inspection and sent an odd look his way. Evastus noticed the dwarf’s gaze shift and turned to look back over his shoulder, one hand still covering his twitching eye.
“What’re you looking at, Friend Sir Edge?” he asked with a slight frown.
Edge gave him a disarming smile. “Oh, I was just appreciating your tattoos. Uh, I hadn’t seen the one on the back of your necks before.”
The three brothers reached up with their other hands and covered the back of their necks. Squirrel had to jump down to avoid being smashed by Chester’s large hand.
Sir Edge Page 24
