The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel (20 page)

“And what if they don’t run?” Cor asked. He could see the flames burning deep in her eyes, and he knew the answer that was forthcoming. Just as her mouth opened, she was interrupted by a younger voice from further down the table. It was a bit higher pitched and less melodious.

“Then we’ll kill them all,” Marya said.

17.

It did not take Geoff long, only into his second day crossing the Spine, to curse himself, Keth and the gods themselves. The more he tried to remember about his days before being frozen by the Loszian necromancer Taraq’nok, the less he could recall. All he knew was that traveling alone with limited supplies was absolutely miserable work, and he almost wished he had let Keth kill him. Actually, he wished he had called forth the blood ghast and slain Keth. It would have been easy to explain; drunk, Keth attacked him out of jealousy, and Geoff purely defended himself. He sighed with the knowledge that it was too late for what could have been.

The weather was the only thing that made the trip remotely bearable. The days had been warm as of late, even in the mountains, and it cooled substantially as he made camp the second night with threatening clouds overhead. He awoke the next morning to find the clouds had passed by harmlessly, loosing only a few drops of rain to help keep the dust down, and the air retained its cooler temperature. As such, he didn’t feel the need to draw on his water supplies as often. He really could use a large quantity of wine; it had been a long time since he had been this sober, and he did not like the feeling.

Geoff tried to remember back to the last time he traveled this pass in the hopes of recognizing any landmark, any sign to indicate how close he was to the Loszian side. Unfortunately, it was to no avail; he could remember nothing of that harrowing night except exhaustion and the sense of danger as the sounds of Loszian soldiers closed the distance behind them. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t understand how they had all survived that night. Well, almost all - one little girl had died, but who was she?

It was late into the third day that he reached the end of the pass. The sun had begun to set, having already disappeared behind the mountain peaks and casting shadows across his path. A great wall wrought of black stone with battlements and four square towers blocked the way ahead, and Geoff knew the last time he had come through its iron portcullis was in the middle of the night some months ago. As he approached slowly, still out of crossbow range, a cry went up from the wall to announce his presence to all on the other side. Uncertain as to how he should proceed, he halted his horse; at the least, Geoff knew he did not want to be filled with crossbow bolts like a pincushion.

With a familiar sound of steel chains quickly scraping stone and metal, the black portcullis began to open and out came over a dozen men, most of whom were armed with crossbows and clad in black chainmail. Geoff considered that he may have made a mistake by coming here, and he turned his horse with thoughts of escape. As he did so, two men dressed in supple leather appeared from behind fallen rocks and brush, and they too were armed with crossbows, a smaller sort that was held easily in one hand. Geoff could not ride his way out of the trap, lest he make himself an easy target for the scouts who had snuck up behind him, and he dismounted under the assumption that he had no choice but to fight. One of the approaching soldiers held up a black gauntleted hand, and they all stopped, their crossbows still trained on Geoff. He prepared to defend himself, but the apparent leader spoke.

“Dahken, my lord has commanded that I immediately escort you through the gate to his presence,” he said from behind a black basinet helm.

“If he plans to kill me, I’d rather fight and die here,” Geoff responded.

“I do not know of his intentions, nor is it my place to question. I know only that I am not to kill you, so let us keep this peaceful.”

Geoff prepared to retort, but then nodded with the logic of it. Whoever the Loszian’s lord was, his intent was likely not violent; if he wanted Geoff dead, he would have had the crossbowmen finish it here and now. Geoff took his horse’s reins in hand and walked slowly toward the line of armored crossbowmen, and the two behind him followed. As he approached, the line opened to allow him passage through its middle and then folded to envelop him.

The group passed through the open portal into the Loszian fort; it was large enough to allow three men at a time. Seeing the place in the late afternoon sunlight, Geoff noted how little different it was from Fort Haldon in size and layout, and the Loszians too seemed to be building large numbers of outbuildings, many of which were made of darkly colored basalt. Most of the men dispersed as they passed through to the other side of the wall, but their leader and one other escorted him to a large square building of purple Loszian stone. Two more guards stood outside the entry to this building, a heavy oak door that was banded with black iron. They stood at attention and did not move as Geoff’s captor opened the door himself and ushered Geoff into the room beyond.

As if hit by a falling rock, Geoff suddenly realized he was about to meet a Loszian named Menak, the lord of this particular part of Losz. Menak’s abode was clearly one giant square room, just as Cor described, with a ceiling that must have been ten feet tall, no doubt to offer ample comfort for the tall Loszians. The walls and ceiling were all made of purple and black Loszian stone, and Geoff thought sorcery must be at work to hold up the ceiling with no interior supports whatsoever. Torches burned smokily, creating a gray haze near the ceiling and casting flickering shadows throughout the gloom. In the far corner, a true Loszian in dark burgundy robes sat at a bench with a host of alchemical materials in front of him.

Geoff and his captor walked to the large table in the room’s center and waited quietly. Geoff looked around the room interestedly, but after an interminable amount of time he began to grow bored. It wasn’t long after he began to fidget that he Loszian spoke in a startlingly loud and deep voice.

“You have brought me the Dahken?” he asked, though it seemed more of a statement expecting a reply than a question.

“I have, Lord Menak,” the soldier answered as he removed his basinet helm. “He came without unpleasantness.”

“Excellent,” Menak said, still focused on his beakers and vials.

He cursed and sneered as he stood, knocking over several of them with the back of his spindly hand. He turned and made his way to the center of the room. He seemed to be in no apparent hurry, but his long stride made short work of the twenty or so feet between them. Now closer, Geoff could see that Menak’s robes were not actually burgundy, but of a blood red silk. Only one hand hung from the sleeves of his robes, the other apparently tucked into the folds. The pale Loszian studied Geoff intently.

“What are you doing here Dahken?” Menak asked as he sat at the table; his voice sounded almost disinterested.

“Standing, talking to you Loszian,” Geoff replied, and he paid for it as a chain gauntleted hand smacked the back of his head. It hurt sharply at first as lightning bolts and stars exploded into his vision, but quickly faded to a dull ache. He looked at the soldier, clearly a Westerner and not a Loszian, and said darkly, “Don’t do that again.”

“Dahken, let us keep this simple,” Menak said, pulling back Geoff’s attention. “The last time a Dahken came through this pass, I did not obey laws that had been set since before Nadav became emperor. It cost Taraq’nok his life, and I my hand. I do not intend to make the same mistake. So very simply, who are you, and why have to come to Losz?”

“My name is Geoff, and I don’t know. Something pulls at me, pulls me east.”

Menak merely nodded and said, “I have heard something of how the Dahken blood works. I assume you are one of the Dahken who escaped from Losz some months ago? We know you returned to Fort Haldon some months ago, and the Westerners began fortifying the place. Perhaps you can provide an explanation?”

“An explanation of what?”

“Why, he is dense isn’t he?” Menak asked of no one in particular. “Why have the Dahken returned from Byrverus to Fort Haldon? Why does Aquis reinforce the garrison and build additional defenses?”

“I assume for the same reason the Loszians build on their side,” Geoff answered.

“Not as dense as first thought then. Geoff, I don’t particularly care why you have come to the Loszian Empire, but I do care that my Sovereign knows that I am as loyal a subject as possible,” Menak said, and he stood from his chair. “Therefore, the only solution is that we travel to Ghal immediately. Nadav despises unannounced visitors, but I think his ire will turn to great pleasure in this instance.”

“I don’t think I want to go to Ghal to see your emperor,” Geoff said, and even to his own ear, he sounded like a petulant child.

“I don’t think you have much choice, Dahken; refusal will only lead to your death. Yes, you may very well kill me, but you will not escape the thousand under my command. One way or the other, you will die if you choose the path of resistance,” Menak explained. He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, before saying, “Come with me to Ghal, and maybe you will live just a bit longer.”

* * *

An unexpected sensation jolted Sovereign Nadav and brought him to his moment of ecstasy before he expected it. Normally, such an occurrence would infuriate him, sending him into a rage that would end the existence of any number of breakable objects. However in this particular instance, Nadav was mating, a peculiar activity that was wholly necessary for the survival of his race, but he did not enjoy in the least. Lady Veltrina, from the northern part of Losz, was the first to fulfill his expectations for raising an army, and in fact, she had exceeded them considerably. Nadav was not above rewarding excellent work, but he cringed when she decided upon the boon that would be granted. She too was pure Loszian, and no doubt she expected his seed would help her produce an exceptionally powerful sorcerer. He removed himself from her, rearranging his robes and turned as she looked over her shoulder at him expectantly. Realizing that he had no intention of continuing, Veltrina picked her own robes up off the floor and headed for the long stairs that spiraled downward.

Nadav lightly pulled a gold chain that he knew would bring slaves running from the chamber immediately below his while he considered what brought the vile engagement to an end. Someone had transported into the palace, and as Nadav focused, he knew that the person or persons had come from Menak’s holdfast. Two young boys with gold collars around their necks entered from where Veltrina had just passed.

“Find out who has come into the palace by way of Lord Menak’s beacon,” he commanded. As they began to leave, Nadav looked down at his stained robes and wrinkled his nose at the smell of woman. “Bring me new robes as well.”

They left to carry out his words, and he pulled the robes over his head to throw them to the far side of the room. Nadav knew that mating with the women of his kind was a necessary evil, but he hated the stench of the less fair sex. He drew a scalding hot bath and stepped into it as if the heat would burn away the shame he felt. He was just beginning to feel clean when an entourage of his slaves arrived bearing clothing, various powders and news. A teenaged boy, a Dahken, crossed the Spine into Menak’s hands, just the same as it had happened months ago. Menak captured the boy and brought him directly to Ghal. Nadav was pleased; he may just give Menak back his hand, which now sat preserved in a jar of clear liquid.

Once he felt clean and dry, Nadav started on the long spiral down. As he descended, he chose to meet Menak and the Dahken while standing on the dais before his throne. If would be a fully formal affair with a full complement of slaves, beautiful in their chained nudity, and soldiers, resplendent in their black armor. He would make a spectacle of destroying this Dahken, as he would destroy all the rest of their kind at Fort Haldon.

Nadav fussed over the condition of the hall containing his platinum throne. He made the slaves and servants reposition the gold carpet that marked a path from the floor up the steps to his throne at least a dozen times. He inspected the condition of his soldiers’ armor, sending several of them back to make certain it shined as was proper. Exactly twenty four slaves were placed precisely upon the twelve steps leading to the dais, one boy and one girl on each side of the golden carpet. It took the better part of two hours for him to be satisfied.

Finally he called for Menak and the Dahken boy, who waited in a nearby antechamber, and the two armored soldiers nearest to it left the hall. They returned quickly to retake their honor guard positions at the columns that lined the hall, and Menak’s familiar form, less a hand of course, entered the hall. Behind him came a figure at which Sovereign Nadav stared long and hard. He seemed to be a boy somewhere in his middle teens, but he was tall for his age and race as judged by his black hair. Dahken aside, the emperor suspected this boy was not a pureblood Westerner; the joints of his limbs and fingers were longer than was normal, and his frame was thin and narrow. The boy’s facial features were angled and sharp, and it was his pointed chin, as opposed to the solid round chin of a Westerner, that confirmed Nadav’s suspicions. The two came to stand in the middle of the golden carpet, only a few feet from the bottom of the steps, and Menak immediately prostrated himself before his emperor.

“You stand before Sovereign Nadav, Emperor of Losz!” Nadav thundered, standing quickly from his throne.

Startled, the Dahken dropped to a knee and lowered his face, though he did not demean himself as obviously as Menak. Nevertheless, Nadav was satisfied after a moment, and he settled back into his position upon the throne. Sensing this, Menak hazarded a glance up and stood, pulling the Dahken up with him.

“Welcome back to Ghal, Lord Menak,” Nadav said formally.

“Thank you, Sovereign,” Menak said with no hint of sincerity. “I have taken this Dahken crossing the narrow pass that separated our lands from Fort Haldon. I believe him to be one that Taraq’nok had collected, and I thought it wise to bring him directly to your presence.”