EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (275 page)

Then one of the dark creatures finally noticed the old man and flew back around, heading straight for him.

Jade was at full speed in a heartbeat, running towards her best friend as fast as he could. Time slowed to a crawl. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Daggers flashed in her hand, arms pumped up and down, every footstep smashed down hard into the walkway, trying to propel a body that was already at top speed even faster. The leathery creature was mere feet away from its prey when its body jolted once, then twice, gliding right past Ben, just catching him in the neck with the tip of its tail before crashing into the ground just behind him. With two daggers buried deep in its side, it flopped around, trying to scramble back to its feet.

Jade grabbed Ben’s arm with both of hers and began running back to the house, dragging the poor old man along the stone. The dark creature stood up and pulled both daggers from its side with clawed, yet human-like hands.

Jade threw Ben through the doorway and, with his hand still clutching his neck, he fell to the floor face first. She entered the doorway and whirled around to see the creature flying right towards the door. She slammed it and placed her back against the wood as a brace, only to feel the
thud
as door and creature collided.

The nightmarish beast let out a long, angry screech, then, losing interest for some reason, it took flight, following the others. The dark creatures clearly had an agenda.
 

There was total silence now. Jade, not yet confident of the situation, kept her back tightly pressed against the door while eyeing Ben, who was still on the floor, holding his neck. Then he rolled over, and to her horror she could see his face was turning purple. She abandoned the door and pounced down on the floor next to him as he started to convulse violently. “Father! Ben!” she screamed as she tried to hold him down by his shoulders. He began thrashing about in all directions as white foam began oozing from his mouth, then...nothing. Eyes and mouth both wide open in a silent scream, he just lay there.
 

Jade sat there for a moment, showing no emotion at all. Her eyes locked on the only friend she had ever had. She slowly stood up and backed away, never taking her eyes from him. An unnatural silence filled the room. The wall was the only thing that stopped her retreat. Clenched fists slowly made their way to the top of her head as she bent low and began to tremble. Her world had been taken from her...
again
. An unearthly, primal scream filled the house, a scream that could only be produced by a broken soul.

It was a beautiful morning, with birds singing and not a cloud in the sky. There was a gentle breeze coming from the north that gave the leaves in the trees a slight rattle. A rabbit peeked out from the rock he was hiding behind just to get spooked by nothing and return to his safe hiding spot once again. Squirrels danced about on a nearby tree branch, enjoying the day with not a care in the world. There was no sign that anything evil had ever happened here. On a nearby hill sat a young girl kneeling by a pile of rocks with a makeshift wooden headstone. With her hands clasped over her heart, she mumbled words of peace to her lost friend, a friend she would never forget—a father she would never forget. She lifted her head to the sky with dry, emotionless eyes and silently mouthed the words “I hate you.”

Chapter VI

B
RIGHT
-
RED
CARPET
WITH
GOLD
trim covered the dining hall floor. A large green banner with a single yellow star at its center graced the wall over the fireplace. Elaborate silk tapestries well over ten feet long hung from all four walls, each with fancy white-laced borders, displaying epic battle scenes from a time long ago. Mostly they were fictitious images relating to the famed Undead War, renderings of human knights facing insurmountable odds, surrounded by crytons swarming over the brave knights with their huge claws and sharp, pointed teeth. At least, that was how they were portrayed here. Another had an image of a warrior being knighted by the king himself in the middle of the battlefield. They were both surrounded by the heads of fallen crytons, each with fangs and forked tongues hanging from their grotesque mouths as the king laid his sword upon the kneeling lad’s shoulder.
 

Four shimmering crystal chandeliers hung from the loft ceilings, each one sparkling from the light of the bright oil lanterns hung everywhere. No one commented on the ornate scenery, as they had seen it many times before. The guests gossiped away as they sat at the twenty-foot oak table in the center of the room. The sturdy chairs of equal quality displayed ornate carvings set into the backs of each one.

Maids continued to scamper about with fine white porcelain pitchers, topping off crystal wine glasses that were still plenty full. The table was set with fine Athsmin dinnerware that the Queen had shipped in, along with many other elegant goods Taron was more than willing to overpay for.
 

Queen Ilirra Marosia sat at her royal table up on the dais at the front of the dining hall. With her head held high, she continued to pretend to be interested in the small gathering, which took a real effort on her part. Just shy of her middle years, the Queen’s beauty was the envy of most girls half her age.
 

Ilirra’s fiery red hair was tied back in two long braids that flowed halfway down her back. Her lovely green eyes held all the command and prestige of a queen, yet had a softness that could melt any man’s heart. Her blue silk dress with white lace gracing the neck and shoulders was stunning even by the standards of royalty. Long, sparkling diamond earrings that dangled to her shoulders and a necklace embedded with light-blue opals would appear gaudy on anyone else, but the Queen made them seem modest.
 

Etiquette required that the Queen have formal gatherings now and again. Among the folk attending the small dinner this evening were the steward, marshal, and constable of the castle. All three sat at the large table below, along with other rich merchants she was obligated to show great respect for. The ladies continued to speak of the latest fashions as well as the new shipment of silks coming in from Athsmin.

The men were having a spirited discussion about the latest round of the games they had attended. They had been getting quite interesting lately with the level of skilled fighters that had been acquired. One of the slaves, who had made quite a name for himself by cutting down everyone he had faced so far, was the main topic of discussion—Morkel or Morceller, something of that nature. The fact that nobles were even trying to remember the name of a slave spoke wildly of the impression he was making. Rumor had it he might win his freedom if he kept up this pace, a feat that had not been accomplished in decades.
 

Queen Ilirra was having a difficult time trying to focus on entertaining her guests. She was generally quite witty and worldly, and could turn the conversation from religion to politics in the blink of an eye.

The Queen related to common folk rather easily, as it seemed to her they had a better understanding of the world than people born into power and or money. An ongoing perception of the Queen was that she was just as comfortable seated in a tavern as she was on her throne. What people didn’t realize was just how close this was to the truth.
 

A few of the serving maids disappeared into the kitchen, returning with silver carts filled with hot food. While one placed bowls of soup in front of each guest, the others began to place other courses around the table. A large silver platter of roast lamb was placed at the center of the table, which was quickly followed by trays of roasted potatoes, salads, and bowls of beans.

Red wine had been flowing the entire time, and now was no exception—the girls continued to race back and forth with their pitchers, filling glasses that were more than half full.

The violinist, wearing green britches and a matching vest, played an upbeat tune as he stepped around the large table, flashing a smile at everyone.

Queen Ilirra sat at her private table along with the captain of the guard, Azek Lamanton. The tall, graying man had been in the service of Taron for decades. His piercing dark eyes were that of a hawk’s, and commanded unquestioned authority. Although well into his middle years, his lean, hard frame still held the explosiveness of one many years his junior. He and the Queen sat in relative silence, both of their minds distracted by the same troubling thoughts, but each knowing better than to speak of it here.
 

The Queen’s elite guard stood on each side of the table like bookends, both monstrosities towering over seven feet tall. Both were covered from head to toe with dark-red body armor like none had ever seen before. Every inch of the fabric appeared to be flexible, yet was harder than steel. The material seemed to be nothing more than shiny red plastic at a glance. Under the hoods covering their faces were dark screens similar to the facemasks worn by fencers, made of the same red fabric. Each held an oversized sickle clearly custom-made for their size, with the handle resting on the floor in front of them. Even though they were as still as statues, both were totally aware of their surroundings—where everyone in the room was and what they were doing. Either one could move with the speed of lightning if necessary. But for now, their mere presence was more than enough. It was well into the evening when the guests finally began leaving the great hall.
 

Couples approached the Queen’s table one at a time and gave a formal bow, followed by the usual comments of how enchanting the evening had been. After a suspicious glance at the two monsters, who would have made anyone uncomfortable, each couple was accompanied to the door by a serving maid.

Ilirra could not say she was sorry to see them go. She had more pressing matters than playing host to the people her advisors deemed important. When the last couples had finally been escorted out, the maids converged on the table, grabbing plates and silverware.

Azek and the queen stood. When the two giant bodyguards fell in behind them, Ilirra turned back and gave a quick dismissal, snapping her fingers as if gesturing to dogs. The two beasts stopped, bowed, then turned to walk the other direction. Their movements were identical.
 

Ilirra and Azek strolled across the white tile floor decorated with a green tiles at random intervals. They both walked with an unmistakable air of command. Ilirra marched with the confidence of leadership and rank, with her head high and level; Azek, with the deadly grace of a man whose blade had taken many lives. But to the untrained eye, they appeared the same.
 

“What news did the witch give you this time?” Azek asked with a youthful arrogance that did not match his grizzled looks. Azek had only been captain of the guard for a few years, but had been a general for many and had earned his right to speak freely, even to the Queen.
 

“First of all, he is no witch!” she snapped at him with her eyes still straight ahead as they continued to move along the corridors. “Need I remind you he has been right about a great many things? I trust him as much as I trust you.” Her voice softened as she lowered her head just a bit. “And I trust you a great deal.” She had not meant to come off so harsh to the captain. Ilirra had a great deal of respect for him, but knew how he felt about unexplained phenomenon and even prophecies, and his unbending logic would get under her skin sometimes. Some truths could not be denied, even if they were difficult to explain. Why could he not see that?
 

“Apologies, my Queen. I meant no disrespect,” he said, his eyes staring straight ahead as they marched along. “It’s just that the man is so odd. He never leaves his chamber, and dabbles in black magics no one seems to understand but him. He claims to read the stars as well as find logic in fairy tales. I just don’t want to see you get caught up in his madness. I fear you might start to see what you want to see.” Azek swallowed hard, hoping he had not gone too far that time. But he had to admit it felt good to get his true feelings off his chest.
 

The Queen stopped dead in her tracks.

Azek took two more steps before doing the same, then turned to face her. Her eyes were cold iron staring right through him. With an effort, he was able to keep his gaze locked with hers.

Then cold iron slowly turned to soft silk. Her eyelids fluttered while she let out a long sigh. Ilirra leaned hard against one of the tapestries, her eyes rolling with forced tolerance. She calmly said, “I don’t expect you to understand, Captain. It’s just that...I’ve seen him do things, know things no one could possibly know. And he is correct far more often than not.”
 

She moved in close to the captain as she put both hands on his cheeks. “I know you mean well. You are a fine captain and an even better friend.” She paused a moment to let her words sink in before continuing, “But I am asking you to trust me on this. There are events taking place right now that neither you nor I can possibly begin to fully comprehend. I need his advice, his wisdom!” She paused a few seconds before finishing, “And I need you.” The Queen held his gaze for a long moment, still touching his cheeks before finally taking a step back.