The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (11 page)

The Thayne of Hybrand walked out of the gate with no farewell, no royal send-off. The guards were mainly hurkin, vicious ugly things that respected none but their own officers. Cannath was fairly certain that the hurkin king would send a squad of hurkin soldiers to capture and imprison him, and he was ready for that fight, but it did not happen. The portcullis slammed shut behind him as he walked out into the cold, damp air. Sea gulls flew high above, attacking an osprey that dared to venture too close to their nests on the castle walls.

He walked down the road paved with rocks hewn and placed by men who had served his family centuries ago. Their blood and toil seemed now seemed to have been spent for naught. Everywhere he looked he saw buildings, ships and things that reminded him of what he had sacrificed for his kingship. He had lost sight of it all in his lust for power, his lust for the kingship. Cannath of Hybrand finally got his kingship, and now he was king of nearly nothing. It seemed that Hybrand City was barely inhabited. The streets were quiet, aside from the booted feet of the patrols of the Hurkin Horde marching up and down the street. Surprisingly, Cannath felt some regret about that but he couldn't dwell on that; there were larger things to worry about now, after all. In the end, such abuses of the populace would harm the new occupiers, for there would soon be none left to support them with taxes and food.

A bedraggled woman, head down, walked along the street toward a shop with a small child in tow. Cannath shook his head and quietly said, "This is what is left of my people." The woman must have heard him, or his heavy stride, and looked up. Recognition dawned in her eyes. She walked over to him and he was prepared to hear her beg him for help, a plea which he would have to refuse for he needed to get to the port quickly.

"You foul, demon-spawn, filth! You're a sorry excuse for a thayne! Look what you've done to us!" she screamed, futilely swatting him with a shawl. "You've traded one demon for another, and this one is worse!" She broke down and began crying as she hit him and for once, Cannath had nothing to say. There was nothing to say. He was a failure. The child, hiding his body behind her skirts, gave him a dirty look. At first his pride wanted very much for him lay the woman out on the street for her insolence, but inside he knew he deserved it. He gently pushed the woman aside and continued on his way. Cannath felt something strike him on the back, the impact coincided with a shouted, "Craven!" He forced himself to ignore the taunt, gritting his teeth.

He continued on, enduring the taunts that the woman shouted until she was out of hearing. Not surprisingly, precious few were drawn out to watch the spectacle. Of those few citizens that remained, most were terrified to be out lest they be abducted, enslaved or worse. Most of the homes in the city had been taken over by the soldiers of the Hurkin Horde for quartering of troops.

Cannath made his way through town, encountering no one else save for a few bored hurkin soldiers, and found himself standing before the gates to Port Hybrand. The sky overhead was dark, evening was not far away. Gulls dived mercilessly from high above, bearing down toward their unseen victims blocks away. Cannath hated them, but they were remarkably good at killing rats.

The massive gate stood open, and the port was busier than the thayne expected to see. He paused there for a long moment, savoring the memory of his victory over the Arnathians in what he later termed the Battle of Port Hybrand. The city fell to his troops, and those of Commander Coronus, shortly after. When the castle had been retaken, he found that Craxis had committed suicide and cheated the new thayne of his revenge.

He seethed over that memory and pushed his way through the gate to the port area. The bustle of the port was due to the large presence of the Hurkin Horde. There were a number of their brooding black-sailed ships docked in port, and many more floating lazily in the harbor. The port businesses that thrived on servicing merchants and sailors had been allowed to continue to exist, as Ognadrog undoubtedly saw their usefulness. Still, he was angry to find that a number of the shops that had once been operated by Cklathmen were now home to hurkin merchants, a trend that the thayne expected would continue.

He entered the first shop he could find that was manned by a human and understood the folly of not wearing a disguise. While it seemed that his armor and weapon might help him escape notice from those who were not expressly looking for him, he doubted that the assassins employed by Coronus and Gavinos would be so fooled.

"What do you want?" scowled the shopkeeper, his bruised face told a sorry tale. "Ain't them fancy new clothes you got? Did your new master send you to fetch him some to match?"

Cannath resisted the temptation to add more bruises to the man's collection. "I need a coat with a hood. Leather, weather-proof."

"You got money, thayne?"

Money. Cannath had completely forgotten to bring with him any money or supplies. He thought for a moment and removed a golden ring from his finger. He held it aloft and looked at it in the flickering light. It was a ring that Gavinos had brought back from Nashia or some other far-off place. For a moment he wondered if that ring had been the key to the elf's charm, but he felt no different as he laid it upon the table. "I will sell this ring to you, it is pure and its worth is considerable. Deduct what you will for the coat, and give me the remaining in gold coin."

With a skeptical eye, the merchant picked up the ring. He took a small eyepiece from his pocket and looked closely at it. Without a word, he pocketed the ring and the eyepiece and led the thayne to a display of coats. Cannath put one on, pulling the hood over his head. It covered his armor and tabard well, and the shadows of the hood hid his face. The thayne was a tall man, taller than most Cklathmen and as tall as most hurkin. He hoped his height might help him pass casual scrutiny.

"Made from beaver, that," said the merchant. "Some odd creature that only lives up north, it is. Waterproof as anything you'll find. Keep you warm, too, and lots of pockets." It was indeed a fine coat. It was also long, its bottom hem fell to his boot tops, and there were slits on the sides to allow free movement when fighting. The pockets were large and would hold a great many useful items.

Cannath nodded, then held his hand out to the merchant who disappeared into a back room. The man returned with a small package, but hesitated to give it to him. "I have your coin, O Thayne. And I have a mind not to give it to you. I know you'd strike me dead and take it, so I'll not give in to temptation. A fool could see you're set for leaving Hybrand and you don't want no one to know. So, what makes you think I won't tell?"

Cannath stared hard at the man. Finally he spoke.

"All my life I wanted only to remove the yoke of Arnathian rule from my people, to relieve our suffering. Ever since I could speak, I've cursed and hated my great-uncle who sold our country to those bastards so long ago. When the time came, and Gavinos and the Spiders had promises of freedom, I fell for it like a sucker." Cannath spoke so low and so angrily that the merchant had to listen closely so as not to miss anything. "I vowed not to repeat my family curse, ironically I did exactly that. I allied with a far more vile enemy to overcome the Arnathian Empire, already on the brink of destruction.

"I wasted my life. I wasted the lives of my people. I wasted everything. Yes, I am leaving and I will not return. You wonder what will become of Hybrand?" asked the thayne, his eyes flickering in the light of the oil lamps. "I have lost my right to know. I have lost my right to rule. I have lost my right to care. Perhaps, I have even lost my right to live. I go to rectify my mistake the only way I can, and that is a way that will end with my death. I do not know if I will succeed. I do not know if Hybrand will survive. The House of Hyr, and its curse that has been the bane of this nation's existence, ends with me.

"Do what you will, merchant," Cannath finished, his hand out. The merchant had been prepared to hear a number of things from his ruler's lips. But that was not one of them. He handed the thayne the package and grasped his arm.

"Go to Pier 3." Cannath tilted his head questioningly. "A man there has been working the docks. He's a thrall of the Hurkin Horde but he might be able to help you escape on a merchant ship. You might take him with you."

"What is his name? How will I know I can trust him, or find him for that matter?"

"Trust?" laughed the shopkeeper. "Don't know about that. If you get to the pier alive, he'll find you."

At that, the merchant turned away. Cannath stalked out into the night, his mind wondering who could still be alive in the city that could help him. Would the man help him? What did Cannath have that could persuade him? Perhaps the offer of freedom would be enough.

Cannath made his way among the stink of the hurkin walking about. At one point he he even saw a hurkin wizard, and he almost stopped in his tracks with fear. He gritted his teeth and carried on, determined not to look determined. He made his way down to the waterfront. Pier 3 was in sight. He stopped and casually looked about, assessing what his situation was. There were hurkin everywhere, though none of them seemed to know or care who he was.

That was when a powerful hand locked onto his bicep like a vice, sending shivers of pain down his spine.

"Going somewhere, my thayne?" came a familiar voice. And Cannath knew he had been had.

C H A P T E R

F I V E

~

Shalthazar sat in his study at Fort Ogerwall poring over the Tome of Shadows, absorbing every minute detail on many levels at once. His earlier encounter with the Lord of Darkness had left him twitchy. The power of magic was certainly thrilling in the midst of battle, firing spells and destroying enemies with ease and impunity. However, the power of office was something altogether different from what the elf was accustomed to. He had tired of the doldrums, the day-to-day routine of giving audiences and settling disputes. He detested the incessant demands on his time to attend to menial matters of rule, endless paperwork and affairs of state. While he had long ago become disillusioned with the trappings of power, he knew that he must at least keep up a facade of leadership for the sake of his own survival. 

Some recent tedium included the appointment of ambassadors and meetings with prince-lings and chiefs and petty lords. He had dealt with visiting nobles from Old Nashia and was directed to grant them lands and lordships in the new empire by Arman Sul himself. All of these tediums were taking time away from what the elf truly wanted to do, and what the dark god wanted him to do; find the Everpool. Umber did not care that the demands of this position had taken his precious time. There was far too much to lose by losing his empire, and Shalthazar did not like to lose. He had the Tome of Shadows, and its nearly limitless power, at his disposal. He had begun grooming one of his subordinate apprentices in the Wizard Corps to replace him as ruler of New Nashia. Thus, he would be free to embark on the quests for power that he so desperately needed and field test his new creations while retaining his hold on the burgeoning empire and its respectable army and navy.