The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel (12 page)

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Cor paced Thom’s quarters, his temper raging as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He felt a tingle in the back of his skull, Soulmourn and Ebonwing pushing him to action, begging him to slay. He ignored it, though he allowed the sensation to fuel his anger. Thom for his part sat quietly, coolly with his feet up on a small table while they waited. Rael stood solidly and placed a hand on Cor’s shoulder in a suggestion of calm as the Lord Dahken paced by.

Rael had easily dispatched his would be assassin with a sword thrust through the heart from behind. The Dahken said he had always had trouble sleeping in unknown places; he’d been sitting in a corner of the room quietly, just listening to the night. The assassin came down facing the bed where his target should have been fast asleep, and he hadn’t stood a chance.

As it was, things could have gone badly for Cor and Thyss; he had wanted to go straight to sleep, but the always hot blooded elementalist had other plans. It was pure luck he’d been looking up at that exact moment. Thyss reacted instantaneously with anger and power, lighting a blue ball of flame in her palm. She blew into it as if blowing a kiss, and the flame changed colors and streaked in a sheet toward the two men, instantly setting their hair and clothes ablaze. One man fell dead almost immediately, while the other ran screaming into the night; he didn’t get far.

Thyss’ magic managed to set the entire room on fire as well, and it was all they could do to retrieve their clothes, armor and weapons before the ceiling came crashing down around them. In their exit, they nearly ran headlong into Rael, and the older Dahken watched the buildings roof burn and fall in while Cor and Thyss dressed themselves.

They immediately ran to Thom’s newly expanded quarters, waking him and his family as Cor barged right through the door. He did not suspect the veteran of duplicity, but anything untoward that happened at For Haldon was Thom’s responsibility. Thom, a true professional, shook off sleep quickly and laid out the plans for the current stage of construction. He called for two of his men to retrieve the foreman responsible for the buildings, thinking that perhaps there they could find some answers. After a wait during which Cor seethed and Thyss dozed, the men returned with no sign of the man.

“Find him!” Cor yelled at them, causing Thyss to open both eyes and glare at him. “Wake the entire fort, search and find him. No one rests until we do! Go!”

The men paused uncertainly, edging toward motion, but looking at Thom.

“Lord Dahken Cor is your lord and mine. Obey his orders without hesitation,” Thom said and paused; after the men left he said to Cor, “The men are not used to taking orders from anyone but myself. I apologize Lord, I will correct it immediately.”

Cor waived it away saying, “I don’t care about that right now, Thom. I want to know who just tried to kill me, us.”

“Hykan damn it, Cor!” Thyss swore loudly. “Don’t you understand? He’s gone, and if he’s any good at his job, we’ll never know who he was. Now I am going to sleep in Thom’s bed! Is
anybody
joining me?”

Cor watched open mouthed as she stormed through a doorway into an adjacent room. Thom chuckled softly to himself, leaning his face heavily on his palm. “Lord Dahken,” he said, “please go with her. My wife sleeps with the children for the rest of the night, and I will be fine here.”

Cor heard Rael sigh loudly as he turned and followed her.

They met the next morning with clearer minds and calmer tempers. It was clear that the last assassin, the foreman that arranged the entire affair, was gone. The only trace left behind was a set of tracks in the snow leaving Fort Haldon, but these disappeared quickly as the sun shone and warmed the air. Thom showed great concern over his lord’s safety, but Cor convinced him that they needed to protect the younger Dahken as well. Whoever wanted Cor dead may very well strike at those who had not yet learned of their powers.

They would build a small barracks, really little more than a dormitory for the Dahken. It would have one large room in which most of them would sleep and about a dozen small rooms for the older Dahken. These would have little room for more than a bed on which to sleep. Four sets of larger quarters would be adjoined to the barracks, one for Thyss and Cor and one for Rael, with two to remain empty should they be needed later. They designed the building with large double doors at either end of the building’s length, and these would be guarded at all times, as a handful of other men walked a perimeter. Thom hand picked the men for these positions; no new faces from Byrverus would safeguard the Dahken.

An architect drew up the plans quickly, as they were rather simple, and ground broke on the project before the day ended. Cor wanted the building complex finished immediately, and no small part of their resources were diverted to the project. There was little doubt to Cor’s mind that the attempt on their lives had its roots in either Losz or, more likely, Byrverus. He doubted that the Loszians, as lazy and self absorbed as they seemed, would have gone to the trouble. As such, it would be about two weeks before the person behind the attack knew of its failure. And then, what would happen next?

9.

Palius sat in his chair before a raging fire, wrapped in a heavy brown robe over top of the normal white robes he wore daily. He had found this winter to be increasingly cold even though most considered it relatively mild other than one recent snowstorm. He knew he was dying, as did Queen Erella and most of the palace, but he refused to make a bother over it. The old man coughed occasionally, something he tried to remedy by adding more layers or stoking his fire, all the while saying that he merely had a cold. In his chair before his fireplace is where Palius could be found more often than not, for he could not stand the deep cold of the rest of the palace. All of his meals came to him here, as did Queen Erella when she needed him for counsel or aid, and she came to him with decreasing frequency as the days advanced. Those who entered Palius’ chambers typically found themselves sweating in a matter of minutes or even seconds.

This day, like most days, Palius sat in his chair and stared at the fire, waiting. He waited for his queen to need him, he waited for news that he may think over, and he waited for the icy hand of death to close its grip about him. He coughed loudly twice, a deep rumbling cough from down in his chest, accompanied by wheezing and the momentary sensation that he was drowning. Palius inched his chair closer to the blazing hot fire, unaware that his underclothes were soaked against his body.

Palius thought of the Dahken and Fort Haldon every day. He wondered how they fared making the journey from Byrverus back to the outpost, especially having to trudge through a good bit of cold, wet snow. And the snow would have been worse closer to the Spine. It would make life easier if a number of them had died from exposure on the way, and it certainly would help his conscience if he didn’t have to arrange the slaughter of children. On the other hand, he did it all for the Shining West and Queen Erella, and Palius knew that Garod and his queen would forgive him in the end.

The death of every Dahken at Fort Haldon was absolutely necessary to the security of Aquis and its queen. He must force the Dahken back into obscure history as they were before the birth of Cor Pelson. In a generation or two, no one would even remember the gray skinned abomination. Any Dahken babes born in the future would be thought of only as sickly children and oddities, and their existence as a race would be finally and completely purged.

A knock at his oak doors broke him from these thoughts. Slightly irritated, he turned his head to consider the sound as the knock came again somehow more insistent. If it were the queen, she would have simply entered, but no one else had such privileges. He considered ignoring the knock in the hopes that the offender would just go away when it sounded a third time, this time the dull thud of a palm being slammed against the heavy door.

“Enter,” Palius called resignedly.

“Sir,” a guard captain in mixed plate and chain armor with the seals of Aquis emblazoned upon it entered Palius’ chambers. “A man, an undesirable I might say, is at the palace entrance demanding to see you. He says he has an urgent message for you. We pushed him off, but he wouldn’t leave. I suggested that he use proper channels tomorrow, but he says the message cannot wait, nor does he trust it in anyone’s hands. One of my men got a little rough with him, and well, it didn’t turn out well. Sir, I know you don’t feel well, but perhaps you could come look into this?”

Palius sighed as he turned his face back to his fire. He really had no desire whatsoever to leave his chair and the warmth of his chambers, but it seemed that his duty intruded. It was not uncommon for someone to have a message for he and he alone, but an undesirable as the guard captain put it was something new. Palius sighed again and pushed himself up from his chair. The brown robe was somewhat undignified for a man of his position, so he chose to discard it slovenly over the back of the chair. Palius looked down in surprise at his official white robes, soaked and clinging to his aged and unhealthy body. He pinched at the cloth idly with a thumb and forefinger, pulling it away from his skin before releasing it to hang limply.

“I will need a moment,” Palius said, and the captain excused himself.

After changing, Palius strode quickly through the palace corridors toward the main hall. He thought it was it unforgivably cold, even with clean dry clothes, but he ignored it and in fact allowed the air to invigorate him. It actually felt good to be out of his chambers and moving around. He almost didn’t notice the rumble in his chest and the regular, low cough. The old man had spent so much time in his chambers lately that he had really lost all sense of it; the hour was obviously late as few people were about, excluding the occasional servant and the usual guards.

Upon reaching the main hall, Palius turned left to cross plush carpets toward the antechamber that lead outside. He briefly glanced at Queen Erella’s throne upon its raised dais, finding it empty. No doubt she had simply retired to her own chambers for the night to likely handle certain mundane matters of state, but the sight of the vacant throne disturbed him for some reason. Palius wondered, then wishing he were more involved with the priesthood, who would be selected to rule when Queen Erella’s reign came to an end. As he left the throne behind him, his footsteps again echoing through the hall as the carpet ended, Palius realized grimly that it likely wouldn’t matter as far as he was concerned.

Pushing open one of the heavy doors leading into the antechamber, he found several palace guards, one of whom had blood running down his face from a nose that was mashed to one side. The man’s armor lay on the floor next to him, and his right arm was twisted unnaturally. Palius did not even break stride as he crossed the room and pushed open the set of doors leading into the cold night. A half dozen guards stood here in a semicircle, blocking any access to the doors leading inside, their breath coming in large white puffs in the frigid air, and at the bottom of the steps stood a man that made Palius’ brow furrow. He was a Westerner with black hair and large brown eyes, and he wore plain brown trousers and a white cotton shirt. It was the man’s stance, his lean form that seemed as if it could disappear while standing right in front of a crowd, that caused Palius eyes to widen in surprise. Palius hoped his reaction would go unnoticed by those present.

“I am told you have an urgent message for me?” Palius asked.

“I do milord,” Marek answered. “It is most important. I couldn’t entrust it to anyone.”

“Most wise of you, good sir. Please if I may?” Palius held out his hand. Marek approached, a sealed scroll in hand, and the guards parted to allow him to place it in Palius’ outstretched palm. Palius replaced it with a gold coin.

“Thank you, milord,” Marek said with a quick slight bow of his head.

Palius watched as the rogue that he had found so useful stepped easily down the well lit broadway. Within moments, the man had completely vanished into the night, despite the light thrown by torches and lanterns in close proximity to one another. Palius returned directly to his chambers.

The old man sat in his chair, much in the same position he was in before the guard captain informed him of the man with the message, though this time without a heavy cloak about him. He sat in quiet consideration of the scroll in his right hand; it was made of new parchment and as yet not discolored from age. There could be little doubt of the source of the message based on who delivered it, and his hands shook slightly as he considered the implications. Palius rarely used Larnd, for rarely did he have need of Larnd’s special skills and network of cutthroats. Larnd had never failed him before, and Palius thought it possible the man had never failed. He was a consummate professional, and certainly Larnd had never felt a need to contact a customer to convey success.

Palius carefully and deliberately broke the black wax seal on the scroll and unrolled the cylinder of parchment. He found nothing, no words, no marks and no message. He sighed deeply as he slumped further in his chair, the blank scroll in his hand slipping to the edge of his fingertips, threatening to slide into his lap and fall to the floor. The messenger was the message; Larnd sent his own brother, the man Palius used as his contact with the lord of Byrverus’ underbelly, to convey failure. The scroll was incidental, a decoy. With a flick of his wrist, Palius discarded the piece of parchment into the fire and watched it disappear as if it had never been.

If only he had murdered Dahken Cor as a child. So many accidents could have befallen someone so young.

Palius knew that the power of the Shining West depended on him, that he stamped out this fire before it raged too hotly. It was time to try a different approach - what Palius now needed was an ally not a hireling, someone who would help him destroy Lord Dahken Cor and his people for the good of the empire. If he could only distract the Dahken with something substantial, a large force perhaps, he could strike at them from within. Some good men at Fort Haldon may die, one way or the other, but their sacrifice would secure Aquis’ future.