The Vlakan King (Book 3) (3 page)

As their names imply, first came the Altenguds who nurtured Landermass for time unmeasured. They set life in motion and were content to witness the results. The Jungeguds had not the patience of their elders and wished to interact, experience and manipulate Landermass. The Altenguds were displeased but the strength of the Jungeguds was green and only Cothos could withstand them. In time most of the Altenguds were destroyed by the Jungeguds or faded into memory, simple and powerless. The Jungeguds who hungered most for power and control were Agnaran, Menaloch and Galamog. Galamog took a female aspect and the name Natale Galamog, however the malice of her spirit changed her form into something hideous and she sought out the life force of the peoples of Landermass. She settled on Anavar in the country later called Mordyn and waited. Of all the Jungeguds, Galamog had the patience of their elders.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass

The tunnel grew noticeably colder the further they followed Galamog's steward into the labyrinth of the Mordyn Queen. The air cooled as they descended and a spicy stale still atmosphere greeted them in the lower levels. The precise stone construction gave way to older excavations as if the palace had been built over a vast ancient cavern. Natale Galamog was reputed to be one of the Jungeguds weaving her magic throughout Mordyn creating her kingdom on her terms. Legend named her the Moon Goddess or the Blood Goddess. Few of the Altenguds remained in Landermass and the Jungeguds were not as distant as their elder brethren with their involvement with the peoples of Landermass. The Altenguds retreated to their ivory towers and turned their thought inward while their younger brethren hungered for what the world offered. The mortal races proved useful to advance the desires of the Jungeguds but few gods settled so completely within a mortal civilization as Galamog. The Mordyn people knew no other ruler and her eternal presence brought comfort to their lives. At least to the ones who escaped her notice.

Lockwell noticed the torches on the walls were fewer and deep shadows clung to the walls and archways. The air was still except for their passing and the smell reminded Lockwell of a tomb. The walls were rough with the chisel marks showing and the floor uneven. The ceiling dipped low in several places causing them to duck their heads. Perhaps it was carved eons ago before such craft was fully developed. Lockwell was a sorcerer of Celaeri descent and stands nearly seven feet tall. He spent much of his life serving the kingdom of Eslenda on Amloth. His companion, Machel Moet, also with Celaeri heritage had the unique pleasure of once being the advisor of Tag Makk, Overlord of the Turucks. The Turucks are an elder race akin to the Celaeri and Daerlan but closer to the Daerlan. Anticipating Tag Makk's defeat in the Eslendian War, Machel decided to search for alternative employment and met up with Lockwell during his travels. Their efforts were instrumental in the last revival of the Celaeri race in Cresida and they escaped the fall of the Celaeri. They were resourceful and kept a strong sense of self-preservation ready at all times.

"Enter my home," purred a voice seemingly rising from the floor around them.

"Thank you," said Lockwell. He and Machel entered the dimly lit large room; the two Celaeri soldiers remained outside the room. All the lights were near the entrance; the deepest part of the room was enveloped in darkness. Lockwell thought he could hear movement in the room but he could see nothing except the phantasms of his mind dancing around him. He did however, smell blood, both fresh and stale. He tried to touch his magic just to reassure himself but he did not sense it. His pulsed quickened. He had entered another realm that the outside world could not penetrate.

"I am Natale Galamog as you know. Welcome to my home. I seldom receive foreign visitors. Who are you?" The voice was not unpleasant but the words seemed shaped oddly like a guttural hum. And there were the sounds of her lips slightly sticking together as she spoke. The sound did not relax them.

"I am Lockwell, a wizard and servant of Ioane Adan, Queen of the Celaeri. With me is Machel Moet, also a servant of Queen Ioane."

"Ah, it is well then. I sensed the mark of Moruga upon you both. Moruga reveled in his creation of the Celaeri. I never desired to create. Ah, but I dissemble. You are here in response to my inquiry from the late winter?"

"Yes, Lady Galamog. Queen Ioane wishes to enter an agreement with you for the resources required for your needs. Machel Moet will lead the Celaeri company that will join your soldiers."

"Excellent. I require your soldiers to come to Anavar by the end of the moon's cycle. There is a tower west of Toraba in a place called Erast. Do you know it?"

"The Tower of Erast? It's an accursed place."

"Yes it is. I knew Erast when he lived and I do not fear his curses. You should not fear them Lockwell for you are a strong wizard. Perhaps Machel Moet should be concerned; however, the danger is small. But be at ease, Celaeri. I am sending a sorcerer named Pashar Bei to command the tower. He is of singular skill and will keep the curses of Erast from bothering you. I will send you to him after our discussion. Speak with Pashar Bei of the details of our agreement; I care little of details. Keep your agreement and I shall be pleased. Deliver to Pashar Bei your Celaeri soldiers for the western front."

"We shall do so, Lady Galamog. May we be allowed to see you?"

A throaty chuckle bubbled up from the darkness.

"Ah, Lockwell, while your question flatters me I do not wish to expend the strength right now to display myself in a form you would appreciate. I favor a slim woman still holding her youth with golden hair with black eyes when I walk among the living. Use your imagination. If you beheld me as I am right now, I do not believe your reaction would be courteous. Thus I spare you the stain of dishonor you would bring to our working arrangement. I'm sure you will understand?"

"Yes, Lady Galamog. I see the wisdom of your words. We shall go and prepare the completion of our side of the bargain."

"Lady, may we be dismissed?" asked Machel Moet.

There was silence.

"Where is my tribute?"

"We have brought word from Queen Ioane that..." began Lockwell.

"Yes, yes. But the agreement must be sealed with tribute. What did you bring?" Her voice was subtly harsher.

"Nothing Lady Galamog," said Machel Moet.

"Hmm. I dislike disappointment and you two are necessary to complete my goals. This is distressing. What about the two soldiers beyond my door?" Her voice purred over them and the darkness spread around the room. They could not make out her shape and the sound of movement was everywhere.

"Do you need them?" Her voice was very close, her spiced breath washed over them. "Are they necessary? Do you need them?"

"What do you mean?" asked Machel Moet. Lockwell grabbed his arm in warning.

"No, Lady Galamog," said Lockwell. "We do not need them."

"Thank you for your tribute."

The blackness covered the entire room reaching out into the corridor. There was a muffled noise and the sound of something heavy dragged across the stone. They did not move as the sounds enveloped them. The room lightened leaving the interior dark as before.

"You may go," said a muffled voice. Machel and Lockwell hurried to the door, which shut once they passed through it. The two Celaeri soldiers were gone. A curved Celaeri sword lay on the dirt but they did not pick it up. They hurried back up the passage.

The steward waited for them on the upper level. He did not comment on their bloodless faces for they had talked with Lady Galamog and lived after all. They deserved the respect of ignoring their fear.

"I will take you to your rooms where you can refresh. In an hour I will escort you to Pashar Bei's enclave."

It was all they could do to nod. Their voices had not yet returned to their control. The steward led them through winding corridors and stairs to a large chamber that was bright and warm. Lockwell and Machel each had a private chamber off the main room. They embraced the warmth and tried to shake the grip of Galamog from them.

Lockwell sat at the table in his quarters refilling his wine goblet when Machel Moet returned from bathing.

"My hands are still shaking," said Machel.

"Pour some wine. It is helping my tremors," said Lockwell. "I've had three goblets already and I don't intend to stop until the jug is empty."

"Galamog.."

"She is one of the Jungeguds. I have been in the presence of those touched by a god, as you yourself have been."

"Tag Makk."

"Exactly. But today was the closest I've been to a god myself."

"We didn't even see what she looked like."

"That may have been a good thing," said Lockwell. "She does not seem to be concerned with choosing a form to comfort her followers. I do not think I want to see her true form."

"Those soldiers did."

"Your tone implies you do not agree with my choice."

"You did what was necessary for us to live," said Machel.

"Exactly. Perhaps Ioane knew what the required tribute would be. We were sent without tribute. If the soldiers were not close by would we be sitting here now? Where does that leave us with the Celaeri?"

"The company is already on its way. They were to leave a week after we did."

"Let's see who leads it. I could meet them and you keep hidden. If your absence isn't questioned then we have our answer."

"Partially. Would Ioane have arranged for an alternative plan? If both of us were to become tribute then even your appearance may put another plan in motion. I do not underestimate Ioane Adan."

"I will be ready for it," said Lockwell. "I am not without my sharp edges."

"I couldn't find any of my magic in Galamog's chamber," said Machel Moet. "Not that any of it would have been helpful. What about you?"

"I was cut off from my magic as well. Galamog alone has power in that chamber. She has been weaving it for centuries."

"What about the story of the Faerion?" asked Machel Moet. "Navir and Wynne the sorceress defeated Galamog using the magic of that book. Was the story true?"

"I heard that one too. I have not found any evidence to say it never happened but I have not spoken to Navir about it. I never met Wynne. At one time she was a pleasant young woman but over the years it is told she has become harsh and critical. She keeps to herself in Toraba. The fact that the story concerns actual people lends some credence to it."

"Tell me about Navir."

"I only met him twice and he didn't appear as I expected him to be. He is a tall Daerlan with handsome features, nothing out of the ordinary. He certainly does not look like an aged Daerlan let alone the eldest creature walking on Landermass outside of Kerreth Veralier. His eyes are deep and grey and that's where you can see his wisdom. However you would not guess him to be a singular Daerlan when you meet him. Unremarkable is how I would describe him."

"Hmm. I'd like some of that wine now."

It was mid-morning when their guide knocked on the door. The steward bowed to them and led them out of the palace and onto the main parkway. Lockwell guessed where they were heading. He saw the squat tower with the yellow smoke flowing upward. He mused over the yellowness everywhere. In the land, the skin of the Mordyn people and now the smoke of their sorcerer's tower were the same faded yellow. Then he recalled he had not seen Galamog. What did she look like and did it affect her land?

The steward left them at the door of the tower. The door opened slowly and a thin sallow face peered out at them.

"Ah, guests for the master," said the man. "I am Husta, the master's servant. Come, come. What names do I give?"

"I am Lockwell. My companion is Machel Moet."

They followed the twisted figure inside, the door closed by itself. The stench assaulted them as they stepped over broken boxes, rotten food and other items whose origins Lockwell did not dare guess. The stairs were wide and sturdy. At the top of the third flight Husta rapped on an ornate door. The door opened noiselessly.

"Enter."

"Master, I present Lockwell and Machel Moet."

Lockwell and Machel walked into an immaculate room fill with tables and books, each with its own place. There wasn't even a speck of dirt on the floor. Their host stood before them. He was a Mordynian of average height and build. His head was bald and his bushy eyebrows nearly shielded his blue eyes from view. He wore a brown robe and his feet were bare. His gaze was intense and seemed to peel away the skin of Lockwell and Machel to see within.

"I am Pashar Bei. Welcome to my home. Husta, prepare refreshments for our guests."

The servant hustled off into another chamber.

"Please be seated. Your appearance here indicates your audience with Lady Galamog went well. That is good." He smiled briefly. "We need the military expertise of the Celaeri for our invasion of western Anavar. Our people are decent fighters but no imagination when it comes to strategy. We plan to cross the mountains south from Arda into Curesia, Wierland and Calendia. Curesia is our first task. Wierland is not strong either and after the two of them are in our control, then we engage Calendia. We will strike directly at Nantitet."

"Do you think Calendia will wait until you are ready?" asked Lockwell. "Their smartest move would be to march to Curesia with the Wierland army."

"Ah Lockwell, that would be correct. However, we have agents in Calendia who are tasked to bring confusion and indecision to High King Armana's court. We shall not engage the Calendian army until we are ready for it."

"Who are your agents?" asked Lockwell.

"That is not for your ears, at least not yet. Ours is a new partnership and must be given time to grow into such trust. I cannot tell you specifics at this point but I can tell you a little more of the overall scope. I need your soldiers to meet me at the Tower of Erast near Arda. From there we shall move into Curesia. I will send a small company into Calendia to aid our agents in Nantitet. There will be enough activity around Nantitet to keep the High King's attention diverted until it is too late. And if our agents manage to kill the High King, so much the better."