The Ascent (Book 2) (20 page)

"A pity," Prince Eogan mused. "That was too easy. I was expecting more of a fight from men with such a reputation for battle and subterfuge. Falgrin's men were much more difficult to kill."

Kuros charged Eogan, growling in madness and fury. He struck, arcing his sword in a fierce strike that caught the young prince off guard. Eogan blocked at the last second, sweeping his sword in a two-handed parry. He pushed back, throwing the Ranger back a few feet before countering. He slashed violently from side to side, inching ever closer as Kuros jumped back to avoid each strike. When Eogan spun to gain more striking power, Kuros attacked again with an
overhead slash.

Eogan blocked the attack, kicking Kuros in the groin and countering with another back hand slash. Kuros dodged, ducking to deliver an underhand, upward arc attack. His sword caught Eogan's gauntlet, knocking the boy's sword out of his hand. Kuros wasted no time with a follow up strike, slashing downward toward the boy's shoulder.

Kuros’ vision suddenly slowed to a crawl. He heard the telltale swooshing sound of an arrow bee lining straight toward him. He saw the streak of the wood shaft as it sped at him and impacted him below his left shoulder. The stinging impact jarred him, and he dropped his sword in mid strike. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees as Eogan stepped toward him in slow motion, reaching down to retrieve his sword. He watched as the prince raised his weapon to finish him off. As an afterthought, Kuros reached behind him to draw his dagger from its hidden sheath. As the prince's sword came down, Kuros reached up to grab his attacker's arm and stop the attack at the bottom of its arc. The pain of the arrow strike shot through his body as his hand impacted with the prince's forearm.

With his dagger, he growled in rage and plunged upward into the prince's sword arm. It buried itself deep in the boy's flesh, and Kuros could feel it striking the bone. Eogan howled in pain, dropping his sword and stepping back to grasp the dagger. Arrows streaked at Kuros again, this time several of them burying themselves deep in his chest. One pierced his heart. He could feel it. Breathless and in agony, Kuros fell into a kneeling position, the pain of the arrow grinding his very soul with each heartbeat. He could only look up weakly as Eogan pulled the dagger from his arm and stepped toward him again. In his pain, Kuros mumbled a silent prayer.

"Hear me, Dragon, as I come to thee," he whispered. "I die for you...and your glory."

Eogan grasped Kuros by the hair, pulling his head back and looking into his dying eyes. He placed the dagger against the Ranger's throat, and sneered as he drew it across. Kuros coughed and choked, his blood gushing from the gaping wound. Eogan stared into his eyes as the life slowly drained from them, oblivious of the streams of blood that splashed against his tunic.

"Your head," he hissed before Kuros fell into death's arms, "will make a wonderful gift for my Grandmother."

Khalid sat upon the Dragon's throne in Tel Drakkar. His six newly anointed priests, who had undergone the same ritual he had previously gone through, stood before him. They were in full regalia, prepared to live their new lives as the Priests of Drakkar. They were all master stoneworkers, having spent their entire lives working the mines and building the underground structures with master skill.

Their first task, Khalid knew, was to rebuild the temple, as Erenoth's priests were currently doing at Dol Drakkar in the north. Meanwhile, he would do as Erenoth asked, whatever that may be, to serve the Dragon.

"My brothers," he said. "The Dragon wishes his temple to be rebuilt, and I have faith that I have chosen you all wisely. With your new powers, you will be able to complete this task without much difficulty. The wild beasts of the area will assist you as needed. You will be able to commune with them as necessary, Erenoth tells me."

The priests nodded, looking at each other to ensure they all understood. Dael, the eldest of them, would take charge. Khalid had appointed him as the leader in his absence and he would decide how to best proceed in the rebuilding.

"When the temple is complete," Khalid continued, "it will be reopened, and all will be welcome. Turn no one away who comes to seek guidance. Turn no beggar away who comes for shelter or food. Welcome everyone who honors the Dragon and lives in his land, man and beast alike. Welcome them, and protect them on their journey. Make the road to the temple safe, and guard its travelers. You will act not only as the Dragon's advocates, but as warriors of truth and virtue. You are, in short, paladins in the Dragon's service. You are companions to the Knights of the Dragon, and their leader, Prince Eamon of Morduin."

Khalid stood, coming down off the riser and standing directly in front of the priests. He looked them over one by one, satisfied that these men would serve the temple well. Though not possessing the powers of the priests at Dol Drakkar, their enhanced abilities would make them formidable warriors, and effective warriors against the Lifegiver and his forces.

"Erenoth has departed the temple," he went on. "He has returned to Dol Drakkar to check on the progress of the rebuilding. When the temples are complete, they will be rejoined, and the Dragon will gain a great portion of his power back. It is then that we will begin our crusade, my brothers. We will spread the word of the Dragon and conquer his enemies, the Jindala. We will face them in battle, storm their keeps, and protect the people from their evil ways. They must be cleansed from the island."

"You are a great asset in this battle," Dael said. "You have
firsthand experience in their methods."

"Indeed," Khalid agreed. "I will impart all knowledge I have of the Jindala armies. Together, we will defeat them. But, for now, our task has been set in stone, so to speak. Begin your work on the temple. I will commune with the Dragon as needed."

The priests bowed, turning to take their places among the rubble to begin rebuilding. Khalid smiled after them, glad that Erenoth had the foresight to guide him to them. He was now the High Priest of Tel Drakkar, a position that required much responsibility and dedication. He would serve the Dragon to the best of his abilities as Imbra had instructed, and redeem all who had turned against the Firstborn. Whether by the word or by the sword, all enemies would be defeated.

Khalid's crusade had begun.

Maedoc sat at his sister's bedside. Siobhan lay on her side, curled up in a ball, sobbing lightly. He stroked her hair lovingly, doing his best to comfort her and relieve her sorrow. Ever since she sent Garret away, she had done little else but cry and isolate herself from the rest of the royal court. With Garret gone, and Eamon waging his campaign against the Southern Kingdom, Siobhan was left all alone. Alone, with no one to comfort her but her brother, the Seer.

"Siobhan," Maedoc said softly. "I know Garret. He will not fail in his mission, whatever that may be. He will return to you soon, I promise."

Siobhan sobbed, wiping the tears from her eyes with a trembling hand. "It is not his survival that worries me," she said. "It is what I asked him to do."

Maedoc shook his head, pursing his lips. "I don't understand," he said. "I haven't looked into the matter through the use of my powers, as I felt no need. Perhaps if you just tell me what you asked him to do, it will not be necessary. I would rather hear it from your lips than from the stars, anyway."

Siobhan sat up slowly, pulling her knees up to her chin and crying into her folded arms. She sobbed for several minutes as Maedoc continued to stroke her hair and back. Finally, she sniffed, raising her head to look into Maedoc's eyes.

"I have asked him the unthinkable," she sobbed. "Something he has not done since before Eamon was born."

Maedoc swallowed, knowing where the conversation was heading. He knew that Garret was an assassin, as Maedoc had taken part in the conversations between he and Magnus. "Go on," he said.

"I sent him to Faerbane," she said, then laid her head back onto her knees.

Maedoc sat back, absorbing the meaning of her statement. If she had sent Garret to Faerbane as an assassin, then his target could be only one person; Maebh. Though she was his sister, Maedoc had no love for her. But still, he could not wrap his mind around the situation. What was the reason for the assassination order? To give Eamon a better chance at uniting the kingdoms? To eliminate her rival?

"A difficult task for Garret," Maedoc said, sadly. "But I know that he is capable. It was his profession, and a man such as Garret takes his contracts seriously."

"It wasn't a contract," she explained. "I simply asked him to do it out of love for me."

Maedoc nodded, understanding why she was so upset. She felt that asking him to perform such a deed, using her love to persuade him, was morally wrong. Somehow, though he didn't fully agree, a small part of his conscience empathized. Siobhan, like their father, was never a person to use their status or the love of another to their own advantage. There was some underlying reason, but he was not sure what.

"Surely eliminating Maebh is the right thing to do," he assured her. "Her absence will make it easier for the people of the south to expel the influence of the invaders."

Siobhan shook her head. "That is not the whole reason," she said. "I don't know why, but I had the strong feeling that the Great Mother wanted me to send him for some reason. I believe it will quicken Eamon's ascent to the throne. I'm not sure how, but it is such a strong feeling, that it has to be true."

Maedoc was silent. He wasn't sure whether Siobhan's words were the truth, or if she simply believed they were the truth. Either way, he would seek answers on his own. Perhaps the Dragon would know.

"I trust your judgment, Siobhan," he said. "I will not question it. For now, you should rest more. You haven't opened your court for several days now, and with the Jindala gone from the north, the people have requests."

Siobhan nodded. "I will rest," she said. "Wake me at sunrise."

Maedoc smiled. He left the room without speaking, closing the door behind him. He waited a moment before walking away, listening as Siobhan began sobbing again. He knew she was taking the situation very hard, and it would take time for her to recover. In the meantime, he would try to handle as much of the business at the castle as possible.

He would let her sleep in.

Maebh lounged lazily on her velvet couch, her mother lounging on a divan a short distance away. They had been chatting for several hours since the Prophet's arrival and were now waiting to be served. At either side of the doorway to Maebh's chamber stood the two Enkhatar who had accompanied them. They stood guard, as still as statues, awaiting the Prophet's orders.

The Prophet leaned up on her elbows, looking Maebh in the eyes, smiling. "Siobhan wants you dead." she said, laughing.

Maebh stared silently for a moment, contemplating the words her mother had just spoken. Then, she smiled as well. "Why?" she asked. "And how?"

The Prophet laughed again. "She has sent the King's assassin to do the deed," she explained. "Her lover and bodyguard."

"Garret?" Maebh asked, giggling. "He's too old to do the job anymore. I am not afraid."

"Oh, you need not be," the Prophet assured her. "I will take care of everything."

Maebh rolled over, excited at the thought of her mother taking action on her behalf. "What will you do?" she asked. "Will you send the Enkhatar to kill him?"

"No, my dear," the Prophet said. "The Ka'ha'di will take care of the problem. I will send one of them to put an end to this little plan of hers. In the meantime, we will discuss our plans for retaking the cities back from Siobhan's son."

Just as Maebh was about to answer, the door opened. The two of them looked to see Eogan enter. The Prophet smiled and stood, laying her eyes approvingly on the young, handsome boy who would one day sit upon the throne.

"Mother," Maebh said as Eogan came to her and kissed her hand. "This is Eogan, your Grandson."

The Prophet held out her arms. Eogan, smiling and looking her over, took her hands and embraced her. "Hello, Eogan," she said, stroking him as a lover would. "I have waited long to meet you."

"And you as well," Eogan said. "It is an honor to meet you, Grandmother."

"You will make a handsome king one day," the Prophet added. "And I hope that you will allow me to sit at your side on the throne."

Maebh smiled uncomfortably, unsure of the implications of the Prophet's statement. Maebh herself had planned on remaining on the throne, becoming her own son's Queen. What did the Prophet have planned?

"You will be a beautiful Queen once more," Eogan said. "And let this gift I have brought you be a symbol of our betrothal."

Eogan lifted a large leather sack, displaying it proudly. He opened the drawstring, reaching inside. The Prophet and Maebh both watched in anticipation as the Prince revealed what he had brought. The Prophet's eyes widened with glee as Eogan pulled the head of Kuros from the bag, holding it up for her to see.

"Kuros," the Prophet said. "The old Ranger. Such a pity. He was a handsome man."

"I killed him for you, my love," Eogan said. "And for the Lifegiver."

The Prophet motioned for the Enkhatar to take the gift. Eogan watched the fearsome creature approach and hold out its armored hand. He felt the beautiful darkness that the Enkhatar conveyed, and reveled in it. His glee was quite obvious.