Heir to the Sundered Crown (30 page)

“If you are harmed here you’re body too is harmed. However if you are hurt or die in the other world you will linger here in your spirit form. My body perished countless eons ago,” Aljeron replied, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Oh great. Now you tell me!” Luxon replied sarcastically.

“All the more reason for you not to fail again,” Aljeron scolded. ‘Now focus.”

Again the wizard stirred the winds but this time instead of sending a single leaf Luxon’s way he conjured up a maelstrom that pulled the deadly leaves off of every razor plant in the clearing. Luxon gulped as the mass of dagger like leaves swirled towards him.

“You have the power of a wizard within you Luxon. Use it and prove your might,” Aljeron shouted over the howling winds.

Luxon planted his feet and narrowed his eyes. He plunged into himself until he felt the warm sensation of the magic within. Slowly he eased it outwards until it filled every part of his body. The power grew and grew until he felt the sensation he had felt in the Arch tower when confronting the baron of Retbit.

The first of the leaves soared towards him but this time he was ready. He raised his arms and unleashed some of his power. The leaves struck the shield he had created and were vaporised into ash. More and more leaves struck until he was engulfed in them. The shield shrank under the onslaught. Sweat poured into his eyes as he maintained his concentration. He focused more and drew the shield into himself so that it shrouded his body like a second skin. The deadly leaves snapped and burned as they struck his body.

Luxon was revelling in the power he felt surging through him. He smiled. With a shout he thrust his arms outwards sending the magical energy exploding outwards in a blinding flash which destroyed all of the leaves in an instant.

Steam poured off of his body. If he wore real clothes then he was pretty sure they too would have been vaporised. He panted as he gazed around the clearing. Where he was stood the ground was blackened as though a hot flame had scorched it. The bushes surrounding the clearing were now just blackened stumps and Aljeron was stood smouldering nearby. He looked unimpressed. Luxon had to try his hardest not to laugh out loud.

“That was amazing!” he cried in excitement. The buzz of the power was coursing through him.

“You did well. You are indeed powerful young one,” the wizard said. Luxon frowned; something was off with the wizards tone. It sounded like jealously was in the old man’s voice.

“It won’t be long before you’re strong enough to stand against Danon!” the wizard exclaimed.

Luxon took an involuntary step backwards in surprise.

“Wh-what do you mean stand against Danon? He’ll destroy me in a heartbeat surely,” he stammered.

The ground shook as Umbaroth lumbered into the clearing. The dragons lowered its head.

“If you wish to return home, you will need his power. Only immense magical energy is capable of opening a rift back there from here within the void. It’s what Danon has been trying to achieve for centuries. To get you home we must follow his plan. I too will be needed for that is why he had enslaved my kin,” the dragon explained.

Luxon slumped his shoulders. He was afraid but he knew they were right. He couldn’t allow his fear to overwhelm him. His friends needed his help.  He straightened his back again and set his jaw in determination.

“If it’s the only way for me to return then so be it. Teach me everything I need to defeat Danon, teach me to be a wizard,” 

*

Shore of Yundol across the sea

The girl was happily walking along the sandy shore. Her long brown hair was tied up into a knot commonly used by Yundol women and her clothes were brightly coloured and loose as was the Yundol tradition. She hummed a song of her tribe as she dipped her toes into the gently lapping sea. The cold water was refreshing compared to the harsh heat of the scorched land which made up much of the Yundol continent. Her tribe lived on the cliffs above the coast and made their livings as fishermen or pirates. The kingdom of Delfinnia across the sea was wealthy and her merchants made easy prey since the royal fleet had disbanded at the outbreak of the civil war.

The girl lazily stretched her limbs and yawned. It had been a good day. The sack at her feet was full of shellfish which she’d plucked from the nearby rock pools. She frowned as a dark shape in the sand further up the beach caught her eye. Things were often washed ashore, sometimes barrels of Delfin ale or other valuables made it onto the beach. There was good coin to be had from the selling of such things.

She picked up the sack of shellfish and slung it over her shoulder. The sun was going down but she had time to investigate the shape.

As she drew nearer to the shape she could see it was covered in something blue. It was a cloak she realised as the blue material fluttered about in the breeze. Underneath was a body. She cried out and ran towards the figure. Sure enough the object was in fact a person, a young man in fact. A boy who had seen no more than fifteen summers with a head of sandy blonde hair. She dropped her basket and ran back up the beach to her village for help.

***

36.

Balnor

The city of Balnor stood proud and strong nestled among the hills that had given an empire its name. The city of gold was one of its names. The banners of the baron of Balnor fluttered in the breeze. The emblem of the eagle with a bar of gold in its talons flew proudly.

Kaiden reigned in
Herald
with a tug of the reins. The white stallion whinnied and stamped the ground kicking up tufts of dirt and dust. Kaiden patter the beast’s neck fondly.

“Easy boy,’ he soothed. Sat behind him was Davik. The elderly warrior had no horse of his own and had been forced to ride with the knight. His pleas to ride with Sophia had been met with humorous scorn by the witch hunter.

“Do you think the baron will be here? If Rason’s legion took the road north surely Balnor scouts would have spotter it,” Davik surmised.

“Even he’s not here, as a knight of Niveren I can evoke conscription. The men of Balnor will eagerly march north in order to save the rightful heir,” Kaiden said certainly.

Sophia didn’t look convinced.

“Balnor was one of the first barons to declare that the crown was his and his forces have seen the fiercest fighting. He’s probably still licking his wounds from his defeat at the Golden hills,” she said.

Davik flashed her a smile.

“That my dear, is why he’s more inclined to help us. He’ll want revenge on Rason after that little debacle. I saw the battle with my own eyes. Despite superior numbers Balnor was routed by the legion. Some of the tactics Rason used were simply brilliant,” the old warrior explained, grudging respect in his tone.

The fading sun caused the towers shadows to stretch across the surrounding landscape.

“The sun’s going down and I need a drink. Shall we?” Kaiden said spurring
Herald
into a trot.

*

The group entered the city without any fuss, something that surprised Davik. The city was at war and yet the gates were open. The guardsman watching the road and who questioned new arrivals seemed tense. They passed under the gatehouse and into a wide avenue that stretched for over a mile. Along both sides were buildings, taverns, shops and houses all lined the street. True to the city’s name many of the buildings were painted gold and some even had the precious metal engraved upon their walls. The stone slabs of the road were also painted gold giving the city a sense of wealth and cleanliness not common in Delfinnia.

Most towns had mud roads with waste lying in the streets. Only the major city’s had any form of sanitation. The vast sewer systems built by the Golden Empire were now mostly just ruins, the relics of a bygone age.

“If I remember correctly the baron’s castle is along the avenue and then up a steep incline,” Kaiden explained as he pointed to the castle which stood higher than the surrounding buildings.

“Ye searching for the baron?” came a voice from a nearby doorway. A man dressed in simple clothes stepped out of the shadow of the doorway. He was bald with a bushy beard that covered much of his face. His eyes were blue, but his most distinguishing feature was the tattoo that covered half of his face.

“We are,” Kaiden replied cautiously. He glanced around. The street was quiet, even the taverns were not giving out the usual sounds of playing minstrels or raucous laughter.

The man looked around shiftily.

“You should come with me. These streets aren’t safe anymore. Not since the baron...well not since he changed,”

Davik slid off of the back of
Herald
and drew his sword.

“Who are you? Talk or I’ll run you through,” the warrior snarled. He was tired and in no mood for games.

The man raised his hands in surrender.

“Easy, old man, I was just offering ye shelter. When the sun goes down the streets are far from safe. This city is cursed,” the man said conspiratorially.

Kaiden frowned. The silence of the city, the fact that the gate was wide open, and the vacant look in the guards eyes. Something was wrong in Balnor, he knew it. Looking at Sophia he could tell that the witch hunter too could sense it. He put a calming hand on Davik’s shoulder.

“I think we should go with our new friend here,” he said gently. The sun was dipping below the walls causing shadows to spread like spilt ink across the cityscape.

“My name is Thrift.’ The man introduced himself.

Sophia stared at the man.

“Thrift? As in Thrift from Ridderford?” she asked, her hand reaching for the dagger tucked into her belt.

“You know this man?” Kaiden asked. He too rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. The look on the witch hunter’s face did little to ease his nerves.

Sophia nodded. Thrift squinted his eyes to study her.

“He’s a thief. Last time I saw him he was the leader of the Fleet Foot guild in Ridderford,” she explained as she stepped closer menacingly.

Thrift threw his hands up.

“Hey, I ain’t no thief I’ve lived ere all me life, I swears it!” the bald man said defensively. “We ain’t got time for this nonsense, the sun is going down.”

Sophia grabbed the man roughly by his collar and hauled him close, her dagger pressed against his chin.

“You know Ferran of Blackmoor,” she said quietly. Upon hearing the name Thrifts eyes widened. “You were his friend and source of information if I remember correctly. I also seem to recall that it was you who helped the Nightblade murder my father,” she snarled.

Thrift struggled against the witch hunters grip. She let him go causing him to fall backwards into the doorway from whence he had appeared. He clambered to his feet. His eyes darted from Sophia to the two armed men, both of which had now drawn their swords.

“You’re Sophia Cunning...the witch hunter general’s daughter? The one who came to me all those years back for help,” Thrift gushed, his words coming out quickly. “You’ve aged very well I must say,” he added weakly.

Sophia pointed her dagger at the thief’s throat.

“That’s right. You owe me you whoreson. You left me to die in that N’gist tomb,” Sophia snarled as dark memories came flooding back.

Kaiden placed a hand on the witch hunters arm and squeezed gently. He could feel it shaking with anger.

“Sophia,’ he said softly, ‘if what this man says is true then we must get off of the streets.”

With a deep sigh, Sophia reluctantly released her grip on the thief. She glared at the man for a moment before turning and walking away.

Thrift adjusted his collar.

“Thank you,” he said to the Knight but he would not find any sympathy from Kaiden who gave him an icy look.

“Just take us to this place of yours and tell us what evil has befallen this city before I change my mind and let her have her way with you; he threatened pointing at Sophia, “Somehow I doubt it will be a pleasant experience.”

*

Thrift led them through a warren of back streets and side alleys until they reached the door of a rather innocuous building. Unlike the other buildings in Balnor not a trace of gold leaf decorated the walls. Instead it was covered in ivy and mould darkened plaster. The sunlight finally faded as they reached it.

Just as Thrift was fumbling to unlock the door, a gut wrenching scream emanated from somewhere deep in the city. Kaiden and Davik instinctively reached for their swords.

“Those won’t do you any good. C’mon get inside quickly,” Thrift said finally shoving the heavy wooden door open.

They found themselves in a brightly lit hallway with a dozen doors lining either side. Small dirty looking children stared at them as they walked deeper into the building. Men and women lived in cramped conditions and all were curious at their guests.

As they passed the doorways they could see dozens of children playing with dice and other games. Elderly women nursed infants and men with missing limbs or other medical conditions limped around.

“Welcome to the Balnor Fleet Foots,” Thrift said dramatically. He pushed open a pair of big oak double doors and led them into a high ceilinged room.

Candles burned brightly to light up a large stone platform at the room’s far end. A long table which could seat over forty people stood in the centre of the room. Thrift leapt onto the platform and opened his arms wide.

“This is my home, and the home of orphans, cripples and other unwanted souls. We take from the rich to feed our bellies and keep a roof over our heads,” He exalted.

“Thieves’ with honour...pah” Davik scoffed.

Thrift frowned.

“Who else but the Fleet foots would take in and feed those folk? You lords and ladies are all too busy fighting your stupid wars and delving into intrigues whilst the common folk starve and are forgotten,” Thrift snapped. The thief clapped his hands loudly.

A side door opened and out came a dozen young men and women. Each wore brown leather armour and each had a dagger in their belt.

“The orphans are sheltered and fed. They grow up and join the Foots. Believe it or not old man we try to serve the realm just as much as you, or knights or... witch hunters do.’ He added hesitantly glancing at Sophia.