Heir to the Sundered Crown (32 page)

“Look at your boy, the heir to your lands. So scared, so afraid. All noblemen love their sons, for they continue your legacy. Tell me what I wish to know and I will spare him,” she said sweetly. 

The baron looked at his son. His lips quivered. He was a broken man.

“The sword...it lies hidden. Safe. Only the one destined to wield it can find it. All I know is where the key is,” the baron answered weakly.

“Key? If I have the key then the one meant to wield it can never find it,” Cliria said thoughtfully. She stroked the boy’s cheek threateningly. The baron held a hand up.

“The key was hidden. The companion of King Markus the Mighty the first king of Delfinnia hid the key crafted by the mages in the north. It lies within a cave nestled high in the Eclin Mountains. It is known as the sigils cave,”

Cliria clapped her hands in delight. She spun around her arms open wide her long dress twirling as she pranced.

“Oh happy day!” she cried. “I will find the key, and the threat to my beloved will be gone forever. His return approaches. He told me so in my dreams; soon he will have all the power he needs to return to me.”

“Kill me witch for I have doomed the entire world,” the baron sobbed.

Cliria stopped her twirling to skip over to the broken baron. She put a finger under his chin and kissed him on the lips. A red glow appeared around the baron’s face. She kissed him deeper and the light intensified until it was blinding.

Sophia looked away. The boy screamed. The flesh on the baron’s face had been burned away, only his charred skull was left.

Satisfied with her handy work, Cliria turned and tussled the boy’s hair before striding out of the chamber, the assassins at her back.

Sophia fell to her knees. The horror she had witnessed overwhelming her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stifled sobs. Thrift emerged from the shadows after hearing the large doors close deeper from within the castle.

“Niveren save us...” he uttered in stunned disbelief. He’d heard tales of the N’gist cult. Hell, he’d even helped Ferran destroy a sect of the cult, but never had he seen such terrible magic in action. He felt sick.

Cries brought him back to reality. He turned to see the baron’s son hugging the legs of his dead father.

“The sword she was asking about. I think I know what it is,” he said staring at the baron’s body. The charred skull stared at him with holes where his eyes had been. Sophia stepped out of the shadows, her emotions once again under control.

“What is it Thrift? What is so important for her to have done...this?”

The thief gulped.

“I think the sword she was talking about is
Asphodel
. The weapon used by Zahnia and Niveren himself to destroy evil. If she gets her hands on it....the world is doomed.”

***

38.

“It’s funny how old stories get forgotten or twisted. Details which should never be forgotten are, and the more fantastical aspects are wrongly elaborated upon.

‘The fall of Danon is such a tale. Most believe that at the end of the Age of Darkness, Zahnia the Great beheaded the enemy and cast his body into the void. This is not so. For how could it be that over a thousand years later Danon came close to returning to the world in the final days of the Magic Wars?

‘No. Danon’s body was never destroyed. There is a myth that only a few now recall. In it, the followers of the N’gist cult recovered their master’s body and hid it deep within the mountain lands beyond the boundary of the Empire. In the deepest cavern of the tallest mountain Danon’s tomb was made. His soul was cast into the void, but not his body.

‘Instead it was hidden and kept for his return. Thousands of years have passed since those days, but still his immortal bride continues her quest to restore her beloved.”

Luxon sat crossed leg on a patch of purple grass his eyes closed in concentration. Stood next to him was Aljeron. He’d lost track of how long he had been in the void. To the outside world only a few weeks had passed, but to him every hour felt like a year of time. He felt old.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked the wizard irritably. His powers had grown beyond his imaginings. There was nothing more the old wizard could teach him. He was losing patience.

Aljeron stroked his beard a faint smile on his lips.

“I tell you this Luxon because it is important. I have taught you for years and still you do not understand,”

Luxon opened his eyes frowning.

“What am I supposed to understand? I am ready. The longer we waste our time here the more danger my friends are in, the more mischief the witch can do. I am strong enough to face her. I know it,” he replied angrily.

Aljeron chuckled, infuriating Luxon even more.

“Very well. So be it,” the wizard chuckled. He walked forward a few paces and raised his staff high into the air. With his free hand he cupped his mouth.

“Umbaroth summoni” his voice boomed. The sheer volume caused Luxon to clasp his hands over his ears. He hated it when the wizard did that.

Aljeron’s voice echoed off of the nearby hills and a flock of the strange lizard like birds native to the Void launched themselves from the trees in terror.

A few seconds later the familiar sound of large flapping wings could be heard approaching. Luxon looked to the sky. Umbaroth soared over the mountaintop, his massive wings opened wide as the dragon glided down the other side.

With an agility that always surprised Luxon the massive beast landed gracefully into the clearing.

“You summon me Aljeron? It has been a long time since last we met. I was busy eating some Pucks when you called, I still have some bone stuck in my teeth,” the dragon said using one of its huge talons to pick his equally massive teeth.

“Yes my old friend. Luxon here says that he is ready,” Aljeron said.

The dragon arched a scaly eyebrow. He lowered his huge head to look at Luxon.

“You look old boy. But I do sense the power within you,” Umbaroth glanced at Aljeron questioningly. A look passed between the two.

Luxon frowned.
What was that about
? He thought. For the first time since his arrival in the Void he felt something, a nagging sense that something was wrong.

He doubted Aljeron.

Over the past few years the old wizard had become strange. He’d vanish for long periods of time to places he knew not where.

Something else nagged at him. He’d been trapped in the Void for what felt like decades and yet not once had he encountered Danon or even his minions. He’d had a few close encounters with Pucks, Redcaps and Banshees for sure, but nothing sent by the dark one.

Aljeron looked at the sky.

“It is late in the day. Tomorrow we will go to Danon’s tower and together we will send you home Luxon.”

*

Road to Eclin

Ominous dark clouds were in the northern skies. Bright flashes of distant lightning illuminated the distant mountain peaks before fading them back into shadow.

The Sunguard legion trudged its way along the Eclin road their feet sore from the long march north. Legionary’s helped their comrades as they succumbed to agonising blisters that slowed down the columns steady march.

Captain Odrin watched the men go past. He was sat upon his grey mare eating a slice of rock hard cheese frowning all the while. He had followed general Rason into more battles than he could count.

They had fought side by side on the Marble shore year’s earlier against the Yundol invaders. The battles fought deep in the jungle lands of Zahnia and the marshlands of Retbit had been like hell, but together they had come through it all. Rason had got them through it.

Now however for the first time in his long career Odrin doubted his general. Ever since that terrible night in Sunguard the general was changed. Any shred of mercy or kindness that had been in his soul was lost, replaced by a blind ambition and a dark ruthlessness.

His mind drifted back to the night when the royal family had been murdered.

Before the alarm bells had begun to toll their harrowing sound across the capital he had been playing a card game with the general and other officers.

A knock at the barrack door had paused the game, and he himself had opened the door. He glanced to the horizon. The storm raged on just like it had done the night Delfinnia went to shit.

A young woman had been the caller; her face had been hidden by a cloak. She had specifically asked for Rason. As men often do they wolf whistled and leered and even congratulated the general on his good fortune. He hadn’t seen Rason again until the legion was ordered onto the streets to hunt for the assassins. It was after that woman’s visit that his old comrade had changed.

He closed his eyes, wishing he could shake the horror of the following night out of his mind. The Night of Tears they called it. It had been the night that Rason lost his mind and the legion their sense of honour. They had butchered men, women and children until the capital’s streets had run red with blood.

A distant thunder clap made him open his eyes.

“Riders incoming,” yelled a legionary scout galloping up the column.

Odrin looked down the column of marching men. Sure enough, four cloaked riders thundered past him to head towards the front of the column.

“Scout!” he bellowed causing the rider to turn his horse and trot back down the line to his captain.

“Sir!” the scout greeted with a smart salute.

“Who are those riders? Why didn’t the rearguard hold them?” Odrin demanded. The men were tired but they weren’t stupid.

“The rider gave the password sir. It was a pretty lady and three blokes. Their faces were hidden by their hoods. She said that she was a friend of the general,” the scout explained in an oddly monotone voice. The man’s eyes were strangely vacant, as though his mind were someplace else.

Odrin narrowed his eyes.

“Are you alright soldier?” he asked.

The scout simply smiled dumbly.

“Her voice is like music,” the man said in a sing song tone.

That was it. Something was definitely afoot. With a salute he dismissed the scout, turned his horse and shot off up the line to see the general.

*

As he approached the head of the column he noticed the legionary’s throwing him looks of concern. Some of the grim faced veterans were muttering to themselves, others made the sign of Niveren as though warding off evil.

Up ahead he could hear a woman laughing in delight, the general’s deep laughter accompanying it. He scowled deeper, his hand reaching for his sword. He rode closer to the general.

Sure enough a young blonde haired woman was giggling; she was a beauty and no mistake. He would have dismissed her as just one of Rason’s many mistresses but the silent crimson cloaked figures riding at her side emanated menace.

“Ah captain. The lovely Cl...err I mean Alira here has just told me some fantastic news,” Rason smiled happily.

Odrin saluted smartly, throwing the woman a cautious look.

“What news is that sire?” he asked, careful to use the title Rason enjoyed. His pledge to earn the crown may have worn the support of Sunguard and the Legion but in secret most resented his use of it.

“The Baron of Balnor is dead; apparently a beast of the void or something got into the city and killed the bastard, happened not but three days past.” Rason chuckled. “A shame, I had hoped to whip his hide again like at the battle of the Golden Hills,”

Odrin’s mouth opened at the news. One of the most powerful men in the realm was dead. A claimant was dead. The war was one step closer to being over.

“That’s...that’s great news milord. Sire, could I have a word in private,” he asked, flashing the strange woman a pleasant smile.

Rason looked aghast at the request.

“Whatever you have to say you can say in front of my lady here,” he snapped. The lady laughed placing a dainty hand upon the general’s arm.

“Do you not trust me captain?” she said gazing deep into Odrin’s eyes.

Odrin stared back unable to look away. He could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. For some reason he wanted to run, to scream. The young woman’s blue eyes bore into his very being. He tried to scream as her eyes turned black, her skin wrinkled and her hair turned black like the veins on her twisted face and limbs.

‘You are mine captain, just like your general, you are mine. And I have a very special mission for you,’
a rasping female voice boomed inside his head.

Odrin tried to scream. In his mind he was, but his body...well he nodded his head and smiled instead.

“I will do all you command my lady,” he heard himself say, his voice was monotone like the scout’s had been. In his mind he was screaming. He was a prisoner in his own body.

‘
Ahead lies the city of Eclin and beyond that the mountains. You will lead a cohort of your best men into those mountains and find a place called the sigils caves. Within you will find a key which you will then bring to me’
the voice in his head rasped.

“So general...Or should I say, my King?” giggled Alira. Odrin shook his head. She looked young and beautiful again, her voice soft and ladylike once more. “You will lead your army to Eclin and there what will you do? I have a friend...shall we say who is already at the city’s walls. I do hope you will aid him in his quest to massacre every living soul inside and of course kill the Prince hiding there,” she said sweetly.

Rason took her hand in his.

“For you, I would burn the entire world,” he replied smiling.

*

Woven parried the claws of a snarling werewolf deflecting the iron like talons just as they were about to plunge deep into a Knight’s back. The beast roared in frustration as the knight jumped backwards a look of thanks on his face. Sweat poured into Woven’s eyes, all day long the monsters had been assaulting the city walls. He’d lost count of the number of men who had fallen in the desperate defence.

He feinted low with his blade causing the wolf to flinch and raised its thick arms. It was the move he wanted it to make. Rotating his wrists he lashed out with his sword to stab deeply into its underbelly. The wolf roared staggering backwards. The Knight stepped in, dispatching the foul creature with a savage blow to its neck. With a mewling howl the wolf crashed to the blood stained ground.