CHAPTER 2 - A DEADLY SUN - Part 3
By cormacru999
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“We have not found a single Rathian in the entire city since we returned!” Adrian shouted. “It’s like they all disappeared!”
“I’m sure they fled once they realized they had missed their mark Sire,” the Dreamweaver said softly.
“This is not the way to start ruling his people!” the King growled.
“We don’t know that Nicu had a hand in it Sire. You yourself said Simon has had problems on his borders, this could be another faction acting on their own.”
Adrian looked at his wife, who was still visibly upset by the encounter. “They almost killed my son!”
“When we get to Rath, King Adrian, I will ask Nicu directly if he knows who was involved, and I will see justice done!” Grimm grumbled, his voice thick with emotion. The Dreamweaver wondered why he was so passionate about it instead of his usual aloof behavior.
“And we appreciate that,” the King answered. “So you still mean to go?”
“Yes, we need to see the other Kings and officially invite them to the tourney, and now we must find out who was responsible for this attack as well,” the Dreamweaver responded.
“I will send a bird to Holdfast with news of the attack, and I’ll send another to Simon and Cosmin as well, warning them of Rathian presence.”
“That would be wise Sire, thank you.” The Dreamweaver bowed and looked at Grimm. Grimm gave a short bow and said, “I will get to the bottom of this your Majesty, you can count on it.”
The King waved them on and the two men walked out of the throne room and towards the castle yard. They soon gathered their horses and their men and Grimm stopped to talk to Captain Cezar before they left.
“You keep a sharp eye out for Rathians!” he growled at the Captain. “I wouldn’t put it past them to give another try in a month!”
“We’ll be doubling security for the family as well as high ranking officials, you can be sure of that Captain sir.” The man saluted and stepped back to let the horses past.
Grimm led the way over the drawbridge and onto the raised road that would take them away from the marsh and into better land. The Dreamweaver rode behind him and heard the march of fifty Kingsguard behind him and he hoped they would be safe on their own journey.
He wondered at why Nicu would attack another King, especially one that wasn’t near his own borders. And if not Nicu, then what Horse Lord would gain from killing a far away King, or that King’s son? The Horse Lords were a fierce tribal people, but they weren’t world conquerors!
Grimm led them at an easy pace, riding along the raised road until it carried them out of the swamp. That land was flat for two days, then hilly for another two and then they finally crossed an unsigned border.
The Dreamweaver still couldn’t get Grimm to talk much but he was clearly brooding over the attack, but he didn’t let his mood wash over into how he treated the soldiers. They set up camp quickly and tore it down even faster and Grimm didn’t feel the need to bark orders at well trained men.
The Dreamweaver noticed the road took them closer to the coast until they were only fifty feet from sheer cliffs that stooped the ocean from washing onto land. The old man rode his horse a little closer, keeping in line with the troop but looking off into the sun as it climbed over the sea.
It took two weeks, but the Dreamweaver finally saw the tall foreboding castle of King Cosmin on the coast of Seawatch. It was built with dark sea stone, that looked washed out from the spray of the ocean. It was built right on the edge of cliff and there was only one approach, from the roadside to the front gates.
Clearly they had been seen coming, because the Seawolves, Cosmin’s knights were lined up outside the castle as a welcoming force. All of them in deep blue armor, with the Seawolf emblem on their tunics, carried long spears that crossed over the road that led to the gates.
The Dreamweaver thought the young men looked quite good, in well taken care of armor, with shining weapons and helmets. They rose silently past the knights and into the yard in the center of Cosmin’s castle.
The castle, the old man noticed was also square, with four tall towers at each connecting point. Inside the yard were a small church and the barracks for the Kingsguard and the Seawolves. It seemed their camped together without any problems.
The Kingsguard Captain was a young man named Ion, who had just recently taken the post from an older man who had finally retired. The Dreamweaver remembered Ion from Holdfast and he waved when the young man saluted him.
Grimm dismounted and walked over to the Captain. “Will you have room for fifty men, or do they need to set up an outside camp?” Grimm asked gruffly.
“We’ll make room Captain, without a doubt. Everyone will be ok. Maybe you’ll let me take some on a patrol?” Ion asked cheerfully, choosing not to be affected by Grimm’s manner.
“How have the borders been? Did you hear that some Rathians made an attempt on Adrian’s life?” Grimm scowled at the young man’s exuberance.
“We heard after the Knights were told. The border has been busy, lots of Rathian raids, maybe more now than before Nicu took over. From what I hear, he claims they’re renegade Lords just out having fun.”
“Fun!” Grimm barked. “It won’t seem so fun when I get there! We’ll see what he says when he has to look me in the eye and explain this!”
“Yessir,” Ion said carefully, reading the anger coming off the big warrior. “Gaulterius the Priest is waiting for you there by the main entrance sir, if you’ll just hand your horses over to my men we’ll get you’re settled in.”
“Right,” Grimm coughed, realizing he was getting worked up. He glanced at the Dreamweaver who was right behind him, handing off his horse to the young soldier standing by.
The two men walked towards the large doors that were open into the castle. A large man was standing nearby, wearing the white robe with the red lightening bolt down the side. The Dreamweaver walked around Grimm and called out, “Gaulterius?”
“Yes,” the man answered, smiling at his guests. “I will show you to your rooms so you can get the dust off the road off you, before you see his Majesty. Please follow me.”
The Dreamweaver and Grimm followed the overweight man into the castle that seemed cold and empty. Where other men decorated with sculpture of tapestries, King Cosmin preferred bare stone walls. Torches lit the way in the dark castle and the old man worried about the state of their rooms.
Happily he found them to be warm and comfortable despite the appearance of the rest of the castle. They beds were feather filled and soft, the blankets were abundant and warm and a roaring fire was lit in each room, giving good light and heat to the whole chamber.
The Dreamweaver changed from his riding robe which was worn and threadbare to a nicer robe that had the bees of Holdfast embroidered along the hem. He washed his face with the water that was brought to him and waited in his room for Grimm to come get him.
A few minutes later, the tall warrior appeared in his doorway and grunted. The old man knew him well enough to know it was time to go, and he clambered to his feet and followed the scarred fighter down the hall.
They were led into a dining hall that had a long table already covered in food platters and plates. The squires seated Grimm at the left hand of the King and the Dreamweaver one seat down.
On the other side of the table were other men, hard looking men who had clearly seen a few battles. They were scarred like Grimm or missing fingers and the Dreamweaver guess these must be the famous Knight of Seawatch, the men who followed Cosmin’s banner.
King Cosmin himself sat at the head of the table, wearing his armor, just like his Knights, even to the dinner table. The Dreamweaver thought these were tough men and this was no place for a woman, you could tell the King was a widower just by the lack of warmth in his demeanor and his castle. He was a hard man surrounded by hard men.
Grimm gave a short bow, so the Dreamweaver gave a better bow and the King motioned for them to take their seats. They sat and waited for the King to speak, Grimm eyeing up the other men.
“Welcome to Seawatch gentlemen,” the King said, his voice a deep bass tone, sounding old but with much power still. His eyes were slate gray and his hair was going gray, but he looked strong and capable. His face had a predatory, hawk-like appearance, very sharp and direct.
“We’re happy to be here Sire,” the Dreamweaver responded. “The rooms are quite nice.”
“The women that work for me keep a good home,” the King intoned, “And you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. I have some questions for you, but they can wait until after you eat.”
In addition to all the normal foods one would find on a royal table there were several kinds of fish dishes, some roasted, some salt-baked, and others with sauce. The Dreamweaver especially enjoyed the salt-baked fish, it was firm and sweet and not salty at all.
Grimm picked at his food, seeming to drink more than he ate, but the old man knew he would keep his composure throughout the meal. The Knights looked awkward eating in full armor, but it seemed this was how they lived, prepared for battle and the old man thought they must be settled into it after years.
After a dessert of mixed berries and cream, the King leaned back in his seat and steepled his hands together in front of his hawkish nose. He peered over his fingers to watch his guest carefully.
“Tell me what happened on Adrian’s boat,” he commanded.
“We were attacked by Rathians Sire,” the Dreamweaver responded. “They used their own arrows and we clearly marked them.”
“I suppose Nicu says he has no knowledge of the attackers?” the King asked.
The Dreamweaver shifted in his seat. He felt like he was being interrogated instead of questioned. “I haven’t heard word back yet. We sent a warning to you and King Simon, as well as a report to Nicu.”
“The borders have been riotous lately. The tribes have been raiding more than usual. If Nicu really control the Horse Lords it should stop, not get worse.” The King lowered his hand to the table with a thump.
“Unless he knows they’re doing it,” Grimm grumbled.
“What do you know?” the King asked, reading the old warrior clearly. The Dreamweaver turned to listen as well, wondering if he would finally learn something more about this man.
“King Nicu’s right hand is a man named Hook,” Grimm began, his sarcasm over calling the man a King clear. “Hook’s father was a vicious warlord; the only one organized enough to give the High King trouble when he fought them.”
“And if I recall the stories about that war, that warlord is who gave you your scar, is that right?” the King asked again.
Grimm grunted an affirmative. “And the son was a wild fighter even then, a nasty bastard of the steppes, cruel and dangerous. He learned at the hand of his father and now he’s close to what seems to be the ruler of the entire grasslands! I wouldn’t put it past them to be testing the borders themselves.”
“These Knights here are my three best fighters,” the King indicated the three men seated opposite Grimm. The Knight at the King’s right hand wore all black armor, that was painted so deeply black that it tricked the eye as if there was a void of all light there.
The man seated next to him wore black armor that had pinpoints of white everywhere like a starry night. And the third Knight had armor that looked like it was aflame with reds and oranges.
“The first man here is Jokull the Nightlands, the finest warrior in my Kingdom. The middle man is Dagr Starlight, the Keeper of the Night. The third man is Eyarr Destroyer, Defender of the Borders. All three of them have been guarding the borders between Seawatch and Rath.”
All three men just looked at their King, their loyalty clear in their eyes. Grimm nodded at each introduction with a practiced eye.
“They tell me none of the horsemen that raid wear any banner telling what tribe they are from. They are nomads, leaderless if that’s to be believed. I have sent messages to Nicu telling him to cull the raiders and he has assured me that he will, but nothing seems to have stopped.”
“We are going to Vess next, but after that we head to see this King Nicu and I will have an answer to these questions. If I have to invade Rath again to put a stop to it, I will!” Grimm snarled, his face getting red with anger.
“I know you will old warrior,” the King said kindly. “Perhaps now you’d like to join me in my chambers for some music and entertainment. A traveling group has stopped her for a time, and they are quite good.”
“We would be happy to hear them,” the Dreamweaver said, knowing Grimm would need a moment to calm down.
***
The nights were freezing cold and the days were terribly hot. Cullen and the others spent their days lying down in their tents on the clay road in the middle of the sandiest place they’d ever seen.
Never in the thousands of years Aki or Roarr had been alive, had either of them seen this much sand. None of them knew what to call a landscape like this. It was just endless sand and sun. They didn’t see animals or plants at all.
Their horses were clearly dying and they were running out of water. Everyone was starting to worry about their chances, since soon they couldn’t turn back, they would have to hope they found something ahead. They just didn’t have enough resources to go back now.
A week of night walking had brought them deeper into the sandy land, but still no end in sight. They started killing the horses for food and blood to keep themselves hydrated.
Cullen could see the wear the experience was having on everyone in the group. At first, he had enjoyed walking with Tik, like the old days, sharing memories and stories about their lives. With Sonia between them, they would walk for miles, laughing and chatting.
But now everyone walked with their head hung low, beaten by days of sleeping in the bitter sun, and night walking through the cold. By the tenth day, Tik had finally voiced his fear, talking about dying in the sand.
Cullen reached into the depths of his being, in that place that kept him moving forward even when things looked bleakest and he urged Tik and the others to keep walking, saying their had to be an end eventually. His dream said they would reach occupied cities.
On the twelfth day, with tightened skin and chapped lips, Gwydion came running back waving his arms. Cullen called a halt and let everyone sit down on the clay road for a breather.
“There’s a wall!” Gwydion called as he got closer. “A giant dark wall! I saw it. Something must be near there, some kind of water source or people!”
Cullen looked at Sonia and saw relief in her eyes. Their horses were all dead, much of the meat wasted and the blood was the only thing keeping them alive. They had reached an end, just like his dream said and all they had to do was walk there.
Tik leaped up, full of new energy and started dancing about, leaving the road while capering up and down. He danced for a few minutes, leaping into the dunes nearby, trying to climb one to get a better view of the distance they had left to travel.
He screamed when the dune exploded and some dark shape tore itself free and went after him. He was running through the sand, but his footing was bad and he fell. Cullen had raced towards him at the scream and the Asrai were right behind him.
Cullen managed to get close enough to use the magic of his Shield and the dark shape, long and lean rebounded against a wall of force. Cullen skidded to a stop in front of his fallen friend, while he clambered to his feet and pulled his own enchanted blade.
“What the hell is it?” he shouted. The moon was only a sliver and cast poor light, and the dark shape sifted in and out of the sand like a massive serpent, its body undulating back and forth.
Cullen looked for its front, for what kind of head it had and his memory twitched as he recalled the shape of the Dark Master. There was a similar cast to the head of whatever this creature was that was attacking them.
The Asrai got behind Cullen’s Shield and the serpent reared up from the sand, its huge head wavering in front of them.
“I’m going to use the Sword!” Cullen yelled, making sure everyone stayed behind him. The serpent darted forward again, ready to test the Shield’s strength cur Cullen slashed with his weapon and the air crackled with magic.
Flame, force and lightening burst free of the blade, cutting the air in front of them and ripping through the monster that was attacking. Burning hunks of flesh hit the Shield and bounced away and Cullen lowered his Sword again.
The creature was dead but still twitching in the sand, its blood leaking in dark pools around it. The head was torn apart but Tris’tan gasped as he got a closer look.
“What is it?” Cullen asked, stepping forward to see the shape.
“Dragon spawn!” Tris’tan said in a hush.
Cullen crouched down to look closely. The head was long a toothy, with eyes set high in the back and protected by armor plating.
“This is what a dragon looks like before it grows into its final shape!” the Asrai whispered. “But it takes centuries for them to grow. And yet here one is!”
“What does it mean, to see one here?” Cullen asked, watching Tik get closer to the head.
“It means that dragons aren’t totally gone. Somewhere a dragon exists, or rather, two dragons exist, because clearly they’ve mated.”
“Do you think this involves the Host in some way?” Cullen moved back towards the road where Sonia waited still holding her magical Bow.
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Tris’tan answered. “But I don’t like this Cullen, its bad to find dragon young in the area. They also don’t just have one offspring. There may be more about.”
“Well we didn’t have a problem until we stepped off the road,” Cullen observed. “Let’s keep our feet planted here and hope for the best. At least we know we can kill them.”
The Asrai nodded and turned to pick up his pack. The others scooped up their belongings and all started walking towards the wall Gwydion said he saw.
It was another few hours before the reached it, but it was just like in his dream, Cullen thought, looking over its dark face. Made out of some stone he had never seen, the wall went from west to east as far as the eye could see.
Along the wall was more clay road, on both side of the wall, stretching out to follow it wherever it went. It seemed like a good place to camp, and Cullen directed them to set up tents along the side of the wall.
Every hundred feet was an arched opening, so the wall wasn’t really meant to keep anyone out of the area, but it seemed the true sandy dunes ended on the other side of the wall and grasslands led on from there.
Cullen took first watch that night, while waiting for the brutal sun to rise. As the hours past, he decided everyone needed some extra rest and he didn’t wake anyone to relive him.
He regretted that notion the moment he woke to find himself surround by robed, masked men that carried strange hooked spears. His camp had been taken swiftly and silently.
***
Of all the activities that Idylls was made to participate in, going to the Games was the worst. The fights were held once a week in a structure called the Pit. It was a circular building with a pit sunk in the middle and filled with sand. Men were let into the pit from separate doorways and made to fight until one was dead.
Having lived in a society that was ruled by warfare, Idylls had seen her share of death, both by combat and by poison or other assassination techniques. Death was common place in her world, but watching human forced to fight struck her as wrong.
They had no other options, and none of them earned freedom, they just got to live for another week. They were given poor living conditions and were treated worse than the normal citizens of the city.
The people that had lived in the three cities taken by the Host had once called themselves something else, but now they were known as the Xho, or Lost People. They were the slaves of the Host, expected to do all the work needed for the city to run, without any benefits except staying alive.
Any mistake could get a person sent to the Pit and most of the victims were not professional fighters. If any of them got good at surviving, they usually had to face a Dark Fae opponent and that was they day they died.
The audience usually consisted of family members of the enslaved, hoping to see their loved one live another day and the many merchants that came from one of the three other Kingdoms in Durza.
The Market had barely slowed during the invasion, and Idylls wondered why the other humans didn’t try to force the Host out. They seemed to accept that there was a new force to deal with and they quickly set up relationships that supported their trades and didn’t seem to care that a whole people had been enslaved. And now this man from Choss seemed to want to combine forces with the Host to take over other lands from their fellow man.
How could a race be so cruel to each other? Didn’t they have any racial pride? Idylls couldn’t understand it at all. But she was brought with her mother to watch the Games, and her mother was especially excited to see this new fighter, a man named Blade.
Idylls walked with her mother surrounded by Hive soldiers, tall muscular Fae that were well armored and carrying sharp tool of death. The sun was high in the sky, but her mother’s magic kept perpetual cloud cover over the city, keeping it in shadow. He magic had even turned the walls of the castle dark black like the night sky.
The Host preferred the dark where they could communicate with flashing colors and natural lights. Otherwise they used sounds, small chitterings and beeps to communicate messages back and forth. Humans couldn’t possibly mimic such sounds so the whole Hive could speak freely without being understood.
Jorinde led her and some favored Sisters to the Pit where they would seat in a special box that was separated from the other viewers, the merchants and families. The circular stands were full as they always were and Idylls wondered at these humans that seemed to get pleasure from watching their own kind suffer.
When Idylls was seated her mother walked to the edge of the box and addressed the crowd. Her voice was carried by magic to each of the people sitting in the bleachers and they all turned to listen to her.
“We have been given a treat! A new fighter has come to the Pit! He is said to be a leader of warriors, a true killer of men! Instead of having him fight the condemned, we have chosen to put him against warriors of the Hive for his first fight! Let us see if he can best those of a different race!”
Jorinde turned away from the crowd and took her seat in the heavily cushioned chair that faced the arena. She waved her hand and a door opened releasing a man Idylls guessed must be Blade.
He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall either. He certainly wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t heavily muscled. His features were so plain they were instantly forgettable, except his eyes. His eyes were filled with hate, a boiling anger that threatened to wash over his whole face in a snarl.
He moved out into the center of the pit and waited there, holding a sword that looked rather small in his hands. Idylls could see that her mother was truly testing this man’s ability by giving him very little to work with.
He had no real armor, just leather graves and leather over his forearms. His hair was a sandy color, his eyes a sharp blue color. The sword looked sharp at least and he carried himself on his toes like a true fighter.
Out of another door stepped two of the Hive. They were tall and wide, well muscled and rested. They were exceptional members of the Hive’s breeding programs, that produced the best fighters possible.
These two Dark Fae had probably had better training and fought more battles in the last hundred years than Blade had in his whole life. Hive warriors were tested almost daily and had to survive rigorous training just to earn their weapons.
The two Fae walked out onto the sand with swagger and stopped to look at their Queen. Jorinde waved her hand again and the two Faeries stepped forward. Blade extended his sword just a bit so it could be used to defend as well as attack and walked in a semi circle around the pit.
The Fae split up, each other them moving to surround Blade and he responded by stopping where he was and letting them go where they would. He seemed to draw himself inward and he stared at the ground in front of him, instead of trying to watch one or the other of his attackers.
They moved at the same time, rushing in at the human with blades raised and shining in the half light. Blade stayed absolutely still until the last second. He moved to the right and snapped his elbow out to clip the first warrior on the chin, dropping him like a stone.
His short blade flashed and blood sprayed from the throat of the second opponent. Before the first one could hit the sand, Blade had caught him and buried his sword to the hilt in his neck, severing the head in seconds.
He dropped the body, stuck his sword in the sand, turned to the viewer’s box and bowed to the Queen. Idylls, shocked, glanced at her mother. Her face was hung open, her mouth hanging there in amazement until she realized how foolish she looked.
The crowd cheered the fighter and the Queen could see she had a real champion before her. She would need better fighters to make this one worth watching, but where could she find a fighter strong enough to last against this man?
Idylls could see her mother thinking and she knew that destruction would come out of such thoughts. Her mother would find and send more humans against this man and most of them would die quickly, all for her mother’s amusement.
There had to be something more to life than subjugating other people, Idylls thought secretly to herself. She sighed, knowing that there was no other life for her but this, the Hive, dark magic and death, if not hers than everything else instead.
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Cullen and his company
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