Heir to the Sundered Crown (19 page)

“General Rason,” Trentian replied shortly. The other clergymen gasped in horror and their leader’s lack of respect. The old man ignored them. He’d seen too many tyrants and fools to be quelled in fear by them.

Rason raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“I think you mean sire or my grace Archbishop,” he chuckled.

Trentian took a step forward shaking off the warning hands of his fellow bishops.

“No. I mean general. For that is what you are. In no way have you proven that you are anything more to god or the people of this realm,’ the old man shouted angrily. He wanted his voice to reach the ears of the soldiers at their general’s side.

“Five other claimants to the Sundered Crown still stand and still tear this land apart through their lust for power. Some have legitimate claims. The Baron of Balnor was the dead King’s right hand. The Baron of Retbit has support of the eastern lands and Ricard of Champia is related to the dead Queen through marriage to her sister.’ Trentian gasped for breath but resumed his tirade.

The other bishops shrank back from their leader, the legionaries looked away unable to hear the words, but Rason simply glared at the Archbishop.

“And then there are the rumours of the Prince in hiding. You, Rason, demand to be crowned because you butchered the Privy Council. You have done nothing to prove that you deserve the throne. If you become King nothing will change. No one will accept you... they will all still call you the usurper!” 

Rason stared silently at the old man. He did not see a hint of fear in his weathered features. Instead all he saw was belief and defiance. He chafed to draw his sword and take the man’s head from his shoulders. Instead he hesitated. Killing a few nobles and peasants was one thing but to murder a man of the church was another thing entirely. He sighed angrily.

“Very well Trentian... you win,” he muttered darkly. He wheeled his horse about and galloped towards his legionaries stood to attention in the plaza. He trotted to stand before the front ranks. He raised his head and bellowed as loud as he could.

“Soldiers of the Legion hear me. People of Sunguard hear me,” his voice boomed.

The plaza was designed to carry voices and his deep powerful one rang out to all corners of the square. What the defiant Archbishop had said was true. Other claimants still lived. He would destroy them one by one.

“I came here to be crowned a King. Instead, I stand here before you all, and before god to make a vow. I will only return here to claim my throne when all enemies of the realm are defeated, when Retbit, when Balnor, when Bison, when Champia and all the others are carrion for the birds, that is when I will return to you.’

He paused for effect.

Already he saw his words were going down well with the legionaries. All they wanted was to restore order, war was in their blood. His next words were aimed at the people.

“I will only return when I can bring peace and security to the people of Delfinnia. To atone for what many see as my crimes I will vanquish the kingdoms true foes.”

“What of Alderlade?” the crowd shouted in response.

Rason swore under his breath. What of the Prince indeed? If the rumours were true then they would never accept him as their king. No. If he found the child he would have to end its life. Discreetly of course.

He smiled.

“If the rumours are true and an heir yet lives then I will stand aside and help put him on the throne myself. All I do. I do for you and the realm,” he lied.

His smile widened as the crowds jeers turned into cheers. The legionaries stamped their spears against their shields to show their appreciation for their general’s words. Rason waved as the sound rose in volume until it roared like thunder.

He had a war to plan.

***

21.

The Sundial crossroads was more than just a road which went off in all directions; it was basically a small bustling prosperous town. Standing tall and proud was the legendary Sundial Arms the biggest and rowdiest tavern in Delfinnia. Due to its strategic location the Sundial had seen its fair share of skirmishes between the rival factions.

This day the flag of the Baron of Balnor’s sigil of the eagle clutching a bar of gold and a hammer in its talons fluttered gently in the breeze. In a week’s time it would likely be replaced by the legion or Retbit’s standard.

A tall sturdy stone wall encircled the tavern and a gateway was placed upon every road. Twelve different gates leading off in twelve different directions meant that technically Sundial was the heart of the land.

Luxon stared in wonder at the sight of hundreds of people milling about and the shouts and calls of the many traders, pedlars and other merchants that had set up shop outside and inside the walls. Most of the people appeared tired, their clothes worn and their boots dusty. Standing tall was a rune stone, an ideal spot for one and was no doubt a major attraction for weary travellers.

He licked his lips in anticipation of a hot meal and hopefully a nice comfy bed. The past few days had passed without incident but the going had been slow as they encountered desperate folk fleeing the war and had more than once had to cross country to avoid bandits and bands of marauding soldiers.

Luckily Ferran had known the countryside well, and at night he had led them to rune stones to stave off any of the fell beasts.

“Refugees from the East and North east most like,” Kaiden said as he reigned in his horse. He held a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. “There should be a Knight of Niveren outpost here. I will ride ahead and see if I can make contact. It would be useful to learn the news of the land before we venture forth.”

Ferran nodded in agreement.

“Be my guest sir knight, more knowledge couldn’t do us any harm. We will meet you inside the Sundial Arms. I for one could do with a bath and a warm meal,” the Nightblade said cheerfully. It was the first time Luxon had seen the man smile. The hardness of his stern slender face slipped away and he saw kindness in his dark eyes.

The others cheered the Nightblade’s words before heading off after the Knight and into the bustling Sundial.

*

The Sundial lived up to its reputation. Entering the huge tavern the riotous sounds of drunks laughing, bards playing and people yelling was like a wall of noise. Ferran led the way through the crowds of people. Luxon had never been anywhere so loud or so busy, not even Caldaria’s market got as chaotic as the Sundial tavern. They shouldered their way to a large oak reception desk behind which sat a very thin and flustered looking man. Alira stayed close to Luxon her delicate hands holding tightly to his cloak.

“I swear! More guests I presume!” the thin man cried despairingly and throwing his hands in the air theatrically. “I’ll tell you lot what I told the last hundred or so poor sods, there is no more room at the Sundial tavern!”

Ferran glared at the man causing him to shift uncomfortably. The Night blade leaned on the desk and gestured for the taverns owner to come closer.

“We have been on the road for over a week. We need food, a place to bathe and a place to sleep...’ he whispered into the man’s ear.

“I am sorry sir but as you can see we are overwhelmed. Refugees from Eclin and the mountain lands have swamped us, not to mention all the soldiers, and then...” the man was cut short as Ferran’s hand snapped outward and grabbed him by his collar. The thin man squeaked.

“I am a Nightblade,” the tavern owner’s eyes widened as he spotted the Tourmaline sword on Ferran’s belt.  “I am tired, as are my companions. I’m sure you don’t want to anger me...I may turn you into something unpleasant.”

The tavern owner went visibly pale.

“P...p...please don’t turn me into anything unnatural!” he cried. “There is a room...just become available it is on the tenth floor, far chamber...it has a bathroom and everything sir! Here take the key!” Ferran loosened his grip to allow the terrified tavern owner to pull a key from inside his tunic. Ferran smiled.

“That will do nicely. Thank you,” He smirked.

*

The room was huge. It was obviously the tavern keepers own private rooms. A fine velvet couch was surrounding by other opulently decorated chairs and the walls were a rich red complete with ornate gold trim. A rug made of a snow bears hide lay in front of a large fireplace which was roaring and heating the room.

Yepert lay on one of the couches stuffing his face with fruit from a bowl sat on a small wooden table. Alira sat in front of the fire brushing her long blonde hair. Luxon meanwhile was sat looking out of the large glass window which overlooked the taverns large courtyard.

“I can’t believe how good that bath was,” Alira sighed happily.

Luxon chuckled as he heard the happy singing of Ferran who was at that moment scrubbing his back in the next room’s large bathtub. “Who’d of thought a Nightblade would enjoy baths so much?” Alira laughed.

“You knew him before all this didn’t you Sophia?” Luxon asked turning to face the witch hunter who was lazing on another couch. She had taken off her armour and now wore a simple white tunic and long brown cotton trousers; her hair was still damp from her own dip in the tub.

“Yes...I knew him...There isn’t much to tell,” Sophia replied quietly, pain evident in her voice. She sat up and walked closer to the fire. “Changing the subject... but where did Kaiden get to? He’s been gone a good hour and the sun is setting.”

“Oh yes...I forgot all about him...” Alira said sheepishly. “I was enjoying the bath too much.”

*

Kaiden was hiding. From his hiding place behind a bale of hay he could see the crimson cloaked figures stalking along the stables. The smell of horse dung and straw was almost overwhelming. The Sundial’s stables were able to house over two hundred horses and every stall was occupied. He had come to feed
Herald
after he had made contact with one of his brother knights. The horse was stood nearby happily munching on some sugar cubes that he’d bought from a scrawny old pedlar in the tavern’s courtyard.

He hadn’t been in the stables long before he had heard the rickety wooden door slide open. Slowly and methodically the Crimson Blade Assassins had gone from stall to stall with familiar looking daggers in their hands.

He edged further back into
Herald’s
stall, hoping that the shadows would hide him.

“Good day sir...oh my...nooo!”

A petrified cry came from a stall further down the row. The woman’s voice cut short as the assassins slit her throat. Kaiden wracked his brain. The woman had been one of the Sundials stable staff. He whispered a prayer for the woman’s soul.

He went still as one of the robed killers stopped at
Herald’s
pen. Slowly the door swung open. Kaiden held his breath. What were they doing here? Were they looking for him and his companions? His worries were confirmed when he saw another assassin enter the pen.

“That is the knight’s horse. It matches the description. They are here,” said the killer. The voice was strange, otherworldly, like an echo that carried on for too long.

“All we need is the information the Knight carries...refrain from killing him and his companions, the mistress wants them alive.” rasped the other assassin.

Kaiden itched to draw his sword and to get some payback for what they had done to him in Caldaria, but with six against one he didn’t favour those odds. He stayed still. So far the bales of hay and the shadows kept him hidden. The letter tucked away in his mantle felt heavy.

“The other knight knew nothing...” whispered the killer who had first entered the pen. His black gloved hands ran absently over
Herald’s
flank causing the horse to snort and stamp its feet. The animal’s eyes were wide with fear as it smelt the blood oozing from the corpse in the nearby stall. The other horses were also beginning to panic. Whinnies and snorts grew louder, some of the animals banged against their pens doors.

Kaiden sighed in relief. The racket that the panicked horses were making would surely draw attention. 

“Hello. What’s going on in here?” called someone from outside. Other voices joined the first as the horses owners came to check on the disturbance. The assassins stopped their searching before silently slipping out of the pen. The stables main door slide open. A dozen men armed with clubs and flaming torches entered the stable.

“There’s a body in here!” someone cried.

Kaiden let a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. The assassins had somehow vanished. He stood and placed a calming hand on
Herald’s
nose. He had to warn the others that they were being followed.

***

22.

Caldaria

Grandmaster Thanos was in his study reading when a knock at his study door disturbed him. Irritably he closed the tome and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Ever since Luxon and the others had departed the mage city he had been troubled by nightmares.

Visions of great battles and of monsters plagued him and all the while the sight of seeing Caldaria aflame burned into his mind. He couldn’t help but feel as though he had missed something and he was sure the N’gist was involved.

Despite his weariness he had poured through the tomes in the great library desperate to find any clue as to where the amulets that had almost brought the mages low could have come from. He’d recruited over a dozen apprentices to assist him, but all had so far come up empty handed.

He waved a hand at the door and muttered a simple spell. The door swung open. Standing in the doorway was Master Dufran. The man’s normally bright green eyes were dull and ringed. He like the other masters had all been suffering nightmares as well.

“What is it Dufran?” Thanos asked tiredly. He stretched his limbs. He felt old.

Dufran rubbed his bald head.