Heir to the Sundered Crown (24 page)

The stubborn baron would get them all killed.

The low note of a horn blast sounded in the distance. Woven turned to face the southern part of the city. That was where the call had come from. He felt a brief pang of excitement.

“Come on lad, sounds like some help has come after all!” he cried as he ran towards the southern gate with Briden hot on his heels. He bounded down the towers stone steps to cross an open courtyard. As he went he noticed that other folk were also heading in the same direction.

“What’s going on?” he asked a young woman who carried a small child in her arms. She too was hastily making her way to the south gate.

“The knights! The knights are here!” she replied with a faint smile. Her accent was not one of a commoner but one from someone who came from a regal family.

They made their way through the large cities streets taking shortcuts that only a local who had spent their entire life living in a city would know.

Finally they reached the wide avenue which led to the southern gate and pushed their way through the rapidly growing crowds. The large wooden gates were open, the iron portcullis was raised.

“Thank Niveren” Briden whispered in awe.

Coming through the gate was the order of the Knight of Niveren. Thousands were coming through. Noble warriors astride their powerful warhorses, sergeants wore the white livery and gold star of the order following them. Archers, crossbowmen and swordsman all followed and every man was dressed in the bright white livery.

The citizens of Eclin cheered at the sight. Women raised their screaming children onto their shoulders so that they could see the warriors.

At the head of the army was an elderly looking man dressed in plate armour. He wore a long cape the colour of the sea and a silver open faced helmet. Woven recognised him as the grandmaster of the order Sir Thondril.

A trumpet blast quietened the crowd. Woven strained to look up the road. Marching rapidly towards the gate was a contingent of the Eclin guard. Their blue and gold mantels adorned with the city’s sigil of the mountain bear. Riding at their head was Baron Lido, at his side Sir Grandir.

Lido checked his horse bringing it to a halt before Thondril.  The crowd fell into a tense silence as everyone strained to hear. Woven pushed his way closer so that he stood within earshot.

“Baron Lido,’ Thondril greeted warmly a smile on his elderly face. ‘We come to you in this darkest of hours to offer you aid in your struggle against evil. We would have come sooner but alas the roads are dangerous and the going was slow.”

Lido sneered. He reigned in his horse which stepped from hoof to hoof as it sensed its owner’s anger. A look of rage crossed the baron’s face. His grey eyes were haggard and his once brown hair had greyed.  The months of constant battle and watching his lands succumb to evil had taken their toll.

“I sent word for aid months ago! Months!” Lido bellowed. Sir Grandir moved to stand beside the Baron and placed a calming hand on the horse’s reigns. Lido glared at the big knight before staring daggers at the grandmaster.

“Sir Grandir sent a request for help months ago! Not one baron has marched to our aid, the legion has not come and now on the verge of our annihilation you arrive. Why should I accept your aid when you left us to our fate!” The baron raged.

Thondril looked aghast at the baron’s words.

“Baron,’ he replied bowing his head, ‘we came as soon as we could. No riders came to us, no word has come from Eclin save for the rumours carried on the breeze by merchants and the like. Our journey took so long because the pass to the Delfinnian plains over yonder was blocked by huge boulders. It took us a week to clear them,” Thondril explained.

Lido glared disbelievingly at the knight.

“No...No...Messenger made it south?” Lido muttered despairingly. The fire in his eyes left him and he slumped in the saddle. He had fought on with the belief that the armies of the south would come to his aid, now that belief had been shattered.

Sir Grandir too looked pale at the news. Woven though shook his head in disbelief. He had scouted the pass to the South. He had seen with his own two eyes that it was traversable.

“Impossible. I scouted the pass to the south but a day ago. Nothing blocked the way,” Woven shouted. Was he going mad?

“Then your eyes were deceived,” Thondril said soberly.

*

The Knights of Niveren made themselves at home in the city with knights and retainers taking up lodgings in many of the city’s homes or pitching tents in any scrap of open space they could find. The tired defenders of Eclin were pleased to see them and most were happy to swap places on the walls with the holy warriors.

The white mantled knights now manned the walls, making for an impressive sight. Thousands of quivers of arrows were lined up against the stone parapets of the walls crenulations, bows too were rested nearby.  The Knights also dragged braziers onto the walls, they would be vital to fending off the horrors that continued to pour through the mountains. Fire was the only thing that truly destroyed the dead.

The citizens of Eclin felt hope for the first time in a long time, the tales of the Knights battles against the un-dead and fell beasts stirring their hearts. No other fighting force in the realm was better at vanquishing the evil remnants of the magic wars and servants of Danon.

Woven watched the bustling activity from a high window in Baron Lido’s private rooms. As senior Ranger he had been invited to attend the war council.

Sat around a large round table were the order’s commanders, the baron’s generals and representatives of the city guard.

“Magic can do terrible things to a man. It can make you see things that are not there, it can give you hope where there is none and it can destroy all you hold dear,” the elderly Thondril preached.

“This we have learnt all too well,” Sir Grandir said as he gulped a cup of wine. Baron Lido huffed.

“The Lich that assaults this land was unexpected. If we had known such a thing still existed we would have come here sooner, we would have launched crusade after crusade until it was destroyed,” Thondril went on, a slight frown on his face as he tried to ignore the Baron.

Woven shook his head. Lido was a good man but he was also prone to being pig headed or foolish. For a long time the rangers had warned that things stirred in the mountains and yet Lido had dismissed those fears. His pride and desire for independence clouded his judgement until now a creature the likes of which had not been seen since the last days of the magic wars was assaulting the kingdom.

“Who is the Lich?” Woven asked. The question silenced the others.

“Every Lich in history has had a name, has been or was once a powerful magic user. The last had been the dark wizard Sivion if I remember correctly. So who is it this time?”

The men sat at the table looked at him in surprise.

“You are very well read for a Ranger,” Thondril muttered. The elderly knight pushed back his chair and began to pace the room. He stopped to regard a portrait of one of Eclin’s former rulers.

“It is true that the three Lichs that have appeared throughout history were all once men. Mages and wizards corrupted by dark magic. Necron the first Lich and master of the N’gist was one, Rigonin the Failed who became a monster to save his beloved, and as you say, Sivion the dark master of the black mages in the magic wars.”

The grandmaster stopped at the window to look out over the battlements.

“The one threatening us now must have been hiding for centuries in the depths of the mountains...for no mage or magic user has been legally allowed to live outside of Caldaria since the reign of King Riis.”

Lido chuckled humourlessly.

“Perhaps your order hasn’t been as thorough with its purges as you believe,” the baron sniped.

Woven shook his head and gave the baron a look of warning, they could not risk insulting the knights and losing their support. Something strange was happening, something that he did not understand.

“We can speculate over the Lich’s identity until the cows come home. We need to plan a defence of the city before it strikes,” one of the commanders interrupted impatiently, stifling Thondril’s angry reply.

“Of course, Shall we?” Lido said gesturing to one of his stewards to bring in some refreshments. Woven took his seat. With the baron and the knight masters constant bickering it was going to be a long day.

*

The sun was setting by the time the war council ended. The knights and Eclin commanders quickly set about getting their plans into place. The baron retired to his chambers leaving Woven alone with Master Thondril.

Woven rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand.

“So,’ he said looking at Thondril, ‘why exactly did your order come here? And do not try and lie to me, I may be a ranger but I’m not a fool. You would not have marched all this way just on the hearsay of rumours. There is another reason why you’re here.”

Thondril poured himself another cup of wine before sitting back in his seat. He bit his lip as he thought of a response. The man across the table was smart, and he seemed to be a trustworthy sort. The order needed someone who knew the city.

He sipped his wine before replying.

“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room. Do you understand?” Thondril said seriously.

Woven raised his eyebrows in surprise at the master’s serious tone. He placed his right hand over his heart.

“I swear.” The Ranger answered solemnly.

Thondril smiled.

“A man came to us. A man named Davik. He was there the night the royal family was murdered. He told us that an heir had survived...that a child, a boy, had been taken to safety far from the intrigues of the capital and those who would seek to harm him.”

Woven whistled in surprise.

“This child is here in Eclin I take it?” he asked.

Thondril nodded in the affirmative.

“We did not know what to expect. I believed that the child could have been the prisoner of Baron Lido. I mobilised the order in case we had to force him to hand the boy over to us.

‘Instead we find a land under attack and in need of assistance. If I had known of the Lich I would have told the entire realm to march north. The threat posed by the Lich and his forces is far greater than the squabbling of the barons. Why did it attack?  I do not know, but something doesn’t add up, someone or something stirred it from its slumber.”

Woven slumped into his seat his stomach knotting in dread. He hated the idea that someone out there had the power to control such a beast. He reached across the table for the wine pitcher, poured himself a cup and quickly downed its contents.

“I need someone who knows the city Woven. Someone who could help us find the boy. I don’t want anyone else to know of our true purpose here, if they did I fear for the child’s safety.”

Woven nodded. The sound of the drumming continued to sound from beyond the walls. Lit braziers lit up the crenulations to reveal soldiers running to and fro.

“If his guardian is smart they would have left the city when you cleared the road south.” The ranger surmised.

Thondril shook his head.

“No they are still here. Davik told me that the boy’s guardian would not leave until they received this,” the grandmaster reached into his tunic and pulled out a gold ring.

Woven gasped as he recognised the piece of jewellery. Everyone in Delfinnia knew the jewel of the King.

“This jewel was smuggled out of Sunguard by Davik on the night of the last King’s death. This jewel will let the boy’s guardian know who to trust.”

Thondril slid the jewel across the table’s smooth surface towards Woven, who picked it up and quickly stuffed it inside his cloak. As he put the jewel into his pocket his fingers brushed against the strange stone he had taken from the sigil caves.

‘One mystery replaces another’
he thought.

“Very well Thondril. I’ll look for this child and his guardian. There are a few places one can hide in this city. Before we go our separate ways however, what happened to this Davik you speak of?” Woven asked as he stood and made for the door.

A thoughtful expression crossed the Knight Masters face.

“The last we heard he was making his way to Tentiv to find the Diasect.”

***

29.

Davik hid in the shadow of a large tree as the procession of crimson robed killers marched past. At their head and astride a black horse was a young woman with long blonde hair.

He ached to draw his sword, but the slowly healing wound to his side and the dull pain from his legs brought him to his senses.

Finally the group had passed and he continued on his way. The broad sword on his hip weighed heavily as he limped down the road towards the citadel at Tentiv. Seeing the Crimson Blades coming from its direction he knew that he would not find those he sought. Nonetheless he had to see for himself.

Davik winced as the staff he used to help walk slipped in a patch of mud almost sending him tumbling to the ground. Tentatively he put his other hand on the bandage on his side. It came away bloody.

He recovered his composure and resumed his slow hobble down the road towards the citadel. The Fell forest was eerily quiet, and yet he had not seen nor heard any fell beasts.

The walk had been exhausting and that was despite him catching a ride with a group of travelling merchants on the Balnor road. He’d been forced to leave the kindly road folk behind however once they ran into the rear guard of the Sunguard Legion. A group of six legionnaires had marched up the road, a young podgy boy dressed in a blue cloak, similar to the ones the mages wore, in between them. The lad’s hands had been bound.

After the showdown at the old king’s palace he had done his best to spread disharmony amongst the city’s populace.  Chances were that Rason’s men were looking for him.

He had underestimated Rason’s ability to win hearts and minds, or was it that the people were simply desperate to see an end to the conflict?