The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu (5 page)

“Ha, King of Sudea, like that could ever happen.  That was funny Grandfather, but I do get your point,” Aleron assured him.  “Seeing the world is only one of the reasons I’m thinking of joining.  All those histories you’ve had me read Grandfather, they all speak of the sacrifices people have made to help make Sudea a great kingdom.  I just feel like I need to do my part too, to honor their memory.”

“That is the best sentiment I could have heard coming from you Aleron,” Hadaras replied to his grandson, a warm feeling filling him. 
The words of a prince, once again reminding me of the man so many years ago. 
“If that is truly how you feel and you still feel that way next year, you have my blessing.”

“That is how I feel Grandfather and I’m sure I will still feel that way when I turn sixteen.”

“We will see, my boy.  A year and a half is a long time out to make predictions,” Hadaras stated, chuckling to himself over how short a year and a half really was, in the grand scheme of things. 
I can vaguely remember how slowly the years seemed to pass in my youth, but that was nine thousand years ago.  I’ve seen the glory of civilizations wax and wane in that time.  One day soon, I will have had enough of this life and return to the Allfather, but not yet, not with the Nameless One’s minions still moving in the world. 
“Time to put your helm on now Aleron.  We’re far enough out in the countryside for bandits to lurking about.”

“Yes Grandfather,” Aleron answered, as he grabbed the helm hanging from his saddle horn.   The fields  had given way to forest,  as the land  was too rocky  to farm, the realm of the woodsman and the outlaw.  At times, the two were one and the same and wealthy looking travelers must be always on their guard.

Later, as they rode on along the trail, Hadaras could feel eyes upon them from the dark forest.  He sensed ill intent, but unease at the same time. 
No, we don’t look like easy marks, but if there are enough of them, they will muster up the courage to attack.  “
Stay alert Aleron.  I do not think we are alone.  Fortunately, bandits are usually cowards, but we should put some distance between us and them.”  They continued uneventfully for several more hours, the bandits evidently deciding to wait for easier pickings.  Soon, the forest gave way to open fields again and the road widened, as smaller paths joined the flow, like streams joining the greater river.  It was mid afternoon by this time. 

The road they were following began to veer east and they could see a large village in the distance.  Hadaras chose a smaller path that headed more northeast, in the direction of Arundell.  They were far from needing a resupply and he had no desire to slow their progress with a visit to the town.  They would camp outside tonight.  The leagues flowed by beneath the horses hooves and as dusk drew near, they found a place to camp by a small stream.  They unloaded the horses and rubbed them down well to avoid stiff muscles.  Then Aleron baited a couple hooks and set the lines in a calm pool he found just downstream.  When he came back up to help Hadaras with the fire, he said, “Maybe we’ll get some fresh fish for supper tonight.”

“That would be nice,” the old man answered.  “The more we forage, the less we drain our supplies.  Once we set up, you can go back to tending your lines and I will see to feeding the horses.  They should be cooled down enough for some food and water now.”

Later in the evening, as they enjoyed grilled trout and bannock, cooked over their modest fire, Aleron asked, “Should we gather more wood for the night, to stay warm?”

“We have enough,” Hadaras replied.  “There is a saying among the Chebek.  They say, ‘The plainsman keeps warm with a small fire and staying close to it.  The villager keeps warm with a big fire and running for more wood.’  Now go to sleep.  I’ll take the first watch and we will rotate every two hours.”

Aleron settled into his bedroll, tired and stiff from riding all day and quickly drifted off to sleep.  Hadaras sat with his back to the fire.  He could have kept watch all night, from his bed, setting out mental feelers that would wake him to the slightest hint of danger. 
Instead, we must do this the hard way.  The boy needs to learn the basic ways first.  Simply having the mental discipline to stay awake when you need to is a necessary step on the way to self-mastery. 
Hadaras often wondered just when Aleron’s sorcerous abilities would emerge, or if they would at all.  All elves had at least some degree of ability and the majority of halfbloods did as well.  Usually, with Halfbloods, the ability manifested between sixteen and eighteen years of age.  He hoped that it would happen before the lad went off to the military.

***

Dusk found Jessamine was busy finishing the last few chores around the homestead.  With only one horse left in the stable, there wasn’t much to do.  She left the lonely animal with warm thoughts of companionship to comfort it through the night and puttered around the yard, making sure everything was in its place.  As she bent over the trough fishing out debris to keep the water fresh, she could sense the man moving out from the concealment of the hedgerow.  What the miscreant could not sense, was the vines reaching out from the hedge behind him.  She turned to him, after hearing his yelp of surprise and witnessed, the vines rapidly entwine him into a green cocoon.  She heard the muffled wheeze, as the vines constricted, crushing the life out of her would-be assailant.  The vines recoiled to the base of the hedge and began dragging the twitching cocoon into the earth. 
That section of hedgerow will be exceptionally green next year,
she thought. 
Not a nice way to go, but it serves him right, having rape and murder on his mind.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt, in case he only wanted to look but not act. 
As darkness fell, she went back inside the cottage and settled in for the night.

***

Hadaras sat in a trancelike state, as Aleron dozed beside him, keenly aware of everything within a half mile of the camp.  Jessamine spoke to him in his mind as he sat there.  They would communicate in this manner throughout their time apart. 
You did the right thing my love
, he said to ease her conscience. 
If not you, he would have gone on to victimize some other innocent.

I know, but I hate to make any living thing suffer and I fear I let my anger get the best of me.  I didn’t end it as cleanly as I should have.

It sounds to me, like it was expedient and quick, even if a little creative, my dear.

I suppose so.  I just feel guilty when I am forced to take a life,
she replied. 
That’s why I always make you kill the livestock.

I know, my darling.  Now get some rest.  Not that you need it, but I need to shut down this part of my mind, if I intend to be on top of my game tomorrow.

Very well, good night my love.

Good night darling.

Chapter 5

Gurlachday, Day 25, Sowing Moon. 8760 Sudean Calendar

The tall figure lurked about the black walls of the fortress Immin Bul.  He had been pacing around the ancient fortress for several hours.  The once sharp angles of the obsidian stronghold now somewhat rounded after four thousand years of weathering from the daily rainstorms of the jungle.  The individual had been slowly circling the edifice since mid-afternoon and night was quickly descending.  A close look would reveal to anyone, that this was not a man.  The pointed ears and set of the eyes said elf, but his skin was dark, like unto the jungle men and no respectable elf would be loitering at the prison of the Nameless One.  Whatever he was, he had journeyed long to reach this place, thousands of leagues over sea and land.  The men of the jungle who guarded this place sensed something about him and left him alone.  The one leopard that was watching from its concealed perch sensed the same and let him be.  He radiated malevolence to the point that it was a palpable thing.  The deepening darkness meant nothing to this one.  His night vision was excellent, though he didn’t truly need his eyes to see.

Dusk gave way to night and the faint sliver of the new moon hung over the western horizon.  Soon it would follow the sun below the horizon and night would be complete.  The stranger could see the faint glow from Kolixtla far to the southwest.  The stars glittered thickly in the black sky of the Central Jungle.  They reflected perfectly off the glassy surface of Lake Bul, calm for the moment, in the heavy tropical air.  As the moon left the western sky, the stranger heard a voice in his mind.

Welcome, my son, did you journey well?

Yes Father,
the stranger replied. 
I set out as soon as I could after receiving your summons.  It took some time to assemble a proper crew and to fit a ship for a journey of such distance.  I am sorry that it took nearly two years to reach here.

Do not feel sorry, my son.  I have grown patient here in my prison.  I realized it would take some time to reach me.  Are my people prospering on our island?  I had such high hopes for them. 
The voice inquired.

Yes, Father, your people number in the millions now.  You would be proud of the progress we have made.  As King over these thousands of years, I have sired scores of children.  Every living Arkan carries some of your blood in their veins.

Are there none left of the first generations then, those that came before I sired you?

Once the breed was well established and numerous, Father, we disposed of the original progenitors.  The elves proved to be untrustworthy and their part-goblin offspring were unpredictable at best.

And what of your mother?  When I chose her, she was the strongest and brightest of the quarter-goblin generation.

The stranger hesitated for a moment, then,
Father, I hope you are not upset.  She contributed greatly to the advancement of our breed, dam to many of the eighth-goblin generation.  But, that generation was bred only to each other after that point and to myself.  Eventually she outlived her usefulness and was disposed of with the rest of the old breeding stock.

I am not upset with you. 
The voice replied, with a melancholy tone.
  You did what was necessary for the race.  I was only thinking that I would like to have seen her again.

Father, when you are freed, you will have your choice of any maiden in the kingdom.  And freed you will soon be,
he added, emphatically.

That is a good thought, my child, but there is much for you to do to make that happen.  You must spread the word among the men of this land.  They are still loyal after all these centuries.  Then you must send word to your people and muster them to this land.  Finally, you must return to me my axe.

Father, can you speak to your servants here, as you do to me now?

I was once able to.  For many years, I felt the bindings weaken, with the makers of the wards all dead for centuries. I spoke to the priests of my temples in Kolixtlan and the sacrifices to me resumed.  My power swelled as they spilled blood in my name and I cast my web further afield.  It was then that I sensed something amiss.  There was a Halfblood child whom I sensed had claim to the long empty throne of my old enemy, Sudea.  I sent out an assassin from the temple to capture the boy.  Though we warded him well against all magic, an elvish sorcerer thwarted the mission.

How could this elf have defeated your wards, Father?

That is a good question.  The priest who imbued the wards with my power perished immediately when this elf dispelled their magic.  I sensed the priest saw the attacker through the eyes of the assassin, but the encounter destroyed his mind.  Then, suddenly, the bindings on my prison renewed, as strong as the day they were laid.  I could no longer speak to my temples here.  There was ever only one that powerful among the elves and he should have been long dead, but this renewal had his flavor upon it.

How then, can you speak to me? 
The dark elf asked, somewhat perplexed. 
It is a far greater distance to Arkus, where you summoned me.

I discovered one small gap in the bindings that confine me.  It is not enough for me to cast my web fully upon the land, but I am able to cast a single thread to one of my own blood.   I can speak to my followers only when they are in close proximity to me.   I am only able, when darkness is complete and my power is strongest.  I was able to contact you through the fortuitous combination of a moonless and overcast sky and a mass sacrifice by my priests in Kolixtlan.  Only then was my power great enough to reach across the seas to you.  I can speak to you now because you are close and the darkness is full.  Our power is always stronger in darkness, just as the elves’ magic thrives in the light.

How shall we free you from this binding, Father?  I feel that these wards are beyond my ability to dispel. 

That is why I need my axe, Zadehmal,
The faceless voice answered. 
I invested much of my power in that weapon.  Separation from it weakens me greatly.

Where is your axe now, Father?  I will bring it to you.

I sense that it is very far away and has not moved for many thousands of years.  It is somewhere cold and remote.  You must find it for me.  It is a focal point of dark power and has my particular flavor about it.  You will be able to recognize it when you are near.  When you bring it here, I will be able to draw enough power from it to break the wards binding me here.

I will bring you Zadehmal, Father and you will be free. Then we will crush our enemies and extend your dominion over all of Aertu.  All living beings will worship you Father, as their God and King.

Yes Zormat, my son and as lord over my chosen people, you will lead their armies in the battles to come.  In turn, you will lead the goblins and trolls, my people on this continent, the men  loyal to me,  and the other beings I created.   Your allies shall be the dark Aelient,  loyal to me since the creation of this world.  You bear my mark and all loyal to me shall bow to you, my chosen one.  One day soon, that will be all of Aertu, but there will be many enemies to overcome.