Kingdoms in Chaos (23 page)

Zander reined in his undead steed and sent out a mental impulse telling his army to stop. Lake Eardon lay before them, and beyond, Belldon Island could be seen like a speck on the horizon. The city of Orenden waited for his hordes at the foot of the rolling foothills.

The day was bright and sunny, with not a cloud in the sky. However, the swirling mists that followed Zander and his army would soon change that. Already, they were snaking their way down through the foothills to choke the city below.

With a mental impulse, he ordered his hordes to spread out and take the city from all directions. The undead humans, vicious green-eyed draggard, and gargantuan, lumbering dwargon raged and howled, and charged down from the foothills like an avalanche.

The warning bells sounded in the city. Men scrambled up to the battlements and took their positions. Zander grinned. His conquest of Shierdon was almost complete.

Within hours, the city had been taken. He had ordered the undead to kill only the soldiers. Everyone else was to be brought to the city square so that he might address them as their king. He rode through the streets with his escort of death knights and personal guards, and smiled down on the petrified faces of those humans still being ushered to the city square. The undead created a path for him through the huddled masses and he rode through to the high podium at the center.

The crowd was a mass of mewling women and stone-faced men staring at him with eyes of hatred. Terrified children clung to their mothers like driftwood in stormy seas, their faces buried and bodies shuddering with the remnants of terror.

Zander took the steps to the high podium with his death knight Rezzar and mentally commanded the lich to speak his words. The people had not earned the right to be addressed directly by their new king.

“People of Orenden!” said Rezzar in two voices, one his own, the other a hissing, metallic grating. “Bow before your new king and swear fealty to him now and forever.”

The crowd fell deathly silent, and soon people began to fall to their knees. Of course, there were a few brave souls who stood defiantly, jaws set firm, and hate-filled eyes resolute in their determination.

Zander grinned wide.

He mentally commanded his undead soldiers to weed out the malcontents. Cries rose up in the crowd as the undead soldiers dispatched of the rebels swiftly and brutally. People cried to the heavens, begging their gods to intervene—none of the gods answered their pleas.

The bodies of the dead were dragged before Zander and laid at his feet. The lich extended a hand to the crowd. “Behold, your new king. Your new god.
He
shall answer your prayers.”

Zander summoned the power of the dark lord’s spirit and raised the dead as one. Forty corpses rose to their feet and looked upon the crowd with eyes of brilliant green.

“Our lord can save you from death. While your gods are silent, he speaks with not only words but actions as well. Behold your new god!”

The people cowered and quivered on the ground. Heads bowed one and all. Children were covered by their parents, nearly suffocated to keep them quiet for fear of what they might be made into should they gain any attention.

Zander looked out over his new followers and opened his arms wide. “Follow me, and you shall have no reason to fear death. For I shall sweep across this land and liberate all the world. None shall stand before me. I am the father of death, and there is no god but me!”

The people were ordered to ready the fleet of fishing vessels, and by nightfall the boats full of undead descended on Belldon Island. The battle for Belldon was a sorry affair. The humans were hopelessly outnumbered. Within an hour of landing, the undead had torn through the castle gates.

Zander walked with his escort of death knights through the great room and straight to the king’s audience chamber. The dark elf Travvikonis who had been impersonating King Ainamaf, sat upon the throne waiting patiently. He had no guards near. Indeed, he was the only one in the chamber.

“King Ainamaf. Or should I call you Travvikonis?” Zander asked as he stopped to stand before the throne.

“Zander, it has been a long time…”

“Indeed.”

Travvikonis rose from his throne and walked down the steps to stand before the necromancer. He eyed the lichs with curiosity. “Orna Catorna is lost to us…yet…you retain the power of necromancy.”

“My power grows with every passing moment. With every soul I obtain, I become stronger. Soon I will challenge the goddess.”

“Kellallea,” Travvikonis whispered. “The Mother of Taking.”

“Call her what you will. I will see her pay for what she has done to our people. I will defeat her, and return to the dark elves that which was stolen.”

Travvikonis looked to Zander with eyes of longing—for the power that he had once had, for a chance to once again take his true form. He dropped to his knees and bowed before the necromancer. “I am your humble servant. Do with me as you will.”

Zander grabbed him by the hair and yanked it back. He unsheathed a thin dagger and slit his neck in one fluid motion. Travvikonis gasped and tried to stifle the flow as his life blood poured freely, turning his once brilliant white robes scarlet.

Zander held him firm as he bled out. “Tonight you shall be reborn.”

On the third day of the march toward Brinn, while the army was camped for the night in a large field, Kellallea appeared to Whill once more.

“Hello, my champion,” she said.

He jumped in his seat when she spoke, trying to contain his surprise. Her smiling eyes told him that he was failing.

“Lady Kellallea…”

“You call me ‘lady’, but I am now a goddess.”

Whill waited.

She eyed him with amusement, and he did his best to give her nothing.

“Might I offer my deepest congratulations on the news of Avriel’s pregnancy?” she said.

Whill flexed his jaw and felt his face flush. Still he waited.

“Unless I am mistaken, the child will be the first of its kind...”

“Whatever interest you have in me, leave the child out of it,” said Whill, finally unable to contain himself.

She looked hurt. “You think that I would threaten your child? Why do you have such a lowly opinion of me?”

“Because you allowed the near genocide of your entire people in order to attain your station. Please, I tire of your games. Be blunt or be gone. I have a country to put back together.”

Anger flashed in her eyes for a fleeting moment and was gone. “You needn’t do it alone.”

“Nothing is stopping you from helping. Your people are dying. The elders…some thousands of years old. The queen herself. And you are doing nothing to stop it.”

“It is the price of life. Everyone dies. Should a parent guide their children through all the obstacles of life? What, then, would they learn for themselves?”

“There is a difference between nurturing and abandonment,” said Whill.

“Yes, there is.” She strode around the desk and moved behind him.

Whill felt her soothing hands on his shoulders. “I am prepared to nurture.”

“What do you want from me?”

Her soft breath brushed the nape of his neck. “I would see you become what you truly are. You could become the greatest king who ever lived. You could usher in a new age for the people of Agora. I said that I would bestow my gifts upon those who had proven themselves. You ask me why you must swear fealty to me, and I answer thusly: I will never again leave unchecked such great power. A rise like Eadon’s must never happen.
IF
you are to usher in a new age, then I must have your utter loyalty.”

“Magic, and the hearts of men, are not things that can be tamed,” said Whill. “If magic returns to the world, there can be no guarantee it will not be used for evil pursuits.”

Her fingers slid slowly from his shoulders and she was standing before him once again. “You sound as though you do not think magic should be given back to the people.”

“Why didn’t you just take from the dark elves? Why have you punished the elves of the sun?” Whill asked.

“I have saved them from annihi—.”

“
I
saved them from annihilation. You took their power as your own so that you might ascend to the heavens. In your greed, you took it all.”

She said nothing, only stared at him with eyes of sparkling light.

“Was it worth it? Did you find a place among the gods as you had hoped?” said Whill.

Kellallea turned from him. “I cannot speak of such things.”

“You didn’t find anything…did you? There are no gods.”

“One stands before you,” said Kellallea.

“And she, too, remains silent to her people.”

She turned on him angrily. “You judge me, yet you know nothing of what you speak!”

“It doesn’t take ancient wisdom to recognize hypocrisy.”

She floated toward him with a dangerous light in her eyes. “A time will come when you will beg for my help.”

He stared at her defiantly, fighting the mesmerizing effect of her stormy gaze. “If that time comes, I would expect you to repay your debt to me.”

Her face flared with fury and her body glowed brightly, and just as quickly she was gone.

Whill let out a pent-up breath and rubbed his beard. He stood there for a long time, contemplating the wisdom of his constant defiance.

The next afternoon, they arrived outside of Brinn. The land forces that Whill had sent from Del’Oradon had made camp in a large field a mile south of the city. Morning cook fires carried the scent of ham and gruel. Men huddling beside them stood quickly and saluted their king smartly.

Whill was led to General Justice Walker’s tent and greeted the man with a firm handshake.

“Sire,” Walker said with a small bow.

“General Walker, good to see you.”

The general offered him a chair at the small table set at the center of the tent. A map of northern Uthen-Arden and southern Shierdon sat on the table, and Walker’s troops were marked by a dozen model soldiers just south of Brinn. Across the border, on the island of Belldon, a dozen blue model soldiers marked their numbers.

“Care for a drink?” Justice asked.

“Just water,” said Whill. “Have you had contact with Clifton McKinnon?”

Justice smirked and placed the glass on the table. “That one’s a character. He says that he is very interested in meeting you. I assume word has reached him of your offer to Merek Carac. He will bend easily, I believe.”

“What have you learned of the goings on in Shierdon?”

A dark shadow fell over the usually-cheery young man’s face.

“Bring the girl,” he told the guard. “They found her in a destroyed village five miles west of Lake Eardon. For two days she would not speak.”

The tent flap opened and a soldier escorted a young girl with big, frightened eyes. She let herself be brought before Whill and stood obediently, staring at the ground. She looked to be nine or ten.

“Jules, this is Whillhelm Warcrown, king of Uthen-Arden,” said Justice.

She regarded Whill sheepishly, meeting his eyes for but a moment.

Whill bent down to her level.

“Hello, Jules. You’ve a beautiful name. I’ve a dwarven friend who would like it very much,” said Whill.

Jules bowed her head.

“Can you tell me what happened to your village?” he asked gently.

The girl began to shake. Her hands were squeezed together so tightly that they were white as bone. Tears welled in her eyes and she looked as though she wanted to run away.

Whill took her cold hands in his. “Have you ever heard about me?” he asked.

She nodded.

“What have you heard?”

“You…you’re a magic man.”

Whill gave a small laugh. “I am also king. I want to help. There are other little girls and boys out there in villages just like yours. Whatever happened to your village could happen to them as well. But you can help. If you tell me what you saw.”

Jules’s eyes went wide and she trembled. Her voice was but a whisper. “Monsters came from the woods.”

“What kind of monsters?”

“Monsters with green eyes. Some were like dragons, others were people. They hurt everybody. They hurt Momma and Papa, made their eyes turn green, too, and they tried to hurt me.”

“Did you see how their eyes turned green?”

“Loud voice woke them up.”

“Did you see who spoke?”

The girl’s lips began to tremble and she shook her head frantically. Whill pulled her in and held her tight as she shuddered. “You are a very brave little girl. Thank you.”

She was led out of the tent and Whill regarded the map. General Walker pointed out small villages all along Shierdon’s southern border. “The scouts that return have reported finding entire villages seemingly abandoned. There are signs of battle everywhere, but no bodies, living or dead. Not a man, woman, or child. No horses or livestock, either.”

“An army of undead,” Whill sighed. “How could the necromancer have taken the entire kingdom? What of Belldon Island?”

“We haven’t been able to get anyone across the lake.”

“Undead?” Whill asked.

“No, Shierdon fleets. By all indications this horde has not yet reached the island.”

A chill swept down Whill’s back. Things were worse than he had imagined. If northern Uthen-Arden fell to the undead, there would be no stopping them from infecting the entire kingdom. But how could they fight against such a foe?

Later that night, Whill and his escort of knights, along with Tyrron, rode into the city to meet with Clifton McKinnon. They were allowed through the high gates without incident, and led through the city to a fortress high upon a rocky bluff overlooking the distant lake. Like Breggard, Brinn had been heavily fortified over the winter months.

Clifton McKinnon was waiting for them in his audience chamber. Instead of a throne, the man sat with his commanders at a large round table set for dinner. When Whill was announced, the gathered men rose from their chairs.

A tall man, whose face was weathered from years on the open waters, strode forth to meet him. “King Warcrown. It is good to finally meet you. I am Clifton McKinnon.”

“Lord McKinnon,” said Whill, shaking the man’s hand.

“Please, come, join in our humble dinner. We have much to discuss.”

Whill and Tyrron joined them at the table and accepted foaming mugs of beer. “I assume you have heard from Merek Carac?” said Whill.

“Indeed, I have,” said McKinnon. “Have you come to make me a similar offer?”

“I am impressed with both of you. The crown acknowledges all that you have done for northern Uthen-Arden. As such, you will be pardoned for your traitorous claims of kingship over Brinn, and will be made governor of all lands within fifty miles of your fair city. There are dark tidings from Shierdon, and I need strong leaders to hold the border.”

McKinnon offered him a gracious nod. “I thank you, sire, and accept your offer. But I am startled by your accusations, and would clear the air if I might. I have never claimed to be a king. It is the people who have tried to appoint me.”

“Yes, I have heard the same from Carac,” said Whill.

“You must understand. After the war ended, the land was in chaos. We did what needed to be done.”

“I understand, and again, you have done well. Let us move on to more important issues. We believe that a dark-elf necromancer has taken control of Shierdon. I believe the undead forces will soon move south. Brinn will be the first city to be attacked. The women and children must be evacuated. They will be brought to Locknar by way of Eardon River. Effective immediately, this city is under the control of the Uthen-Arden army.”

McKinnon looked to his commanders and nodded. “We are honored, sire.”

“How many men do you have?”

“Ten thousand. Five here in the city. Twenty-five hundred to the east and west, watching the border.”

“From this moment forth they are under the command of General Justice Walker and hereby appointed guardians of the north.”