Blood Of The Righteous Page 4

  "Now maybe you'll take me a little more seriously."

  "Of course, my Lord Kadeus," Sagaroth said groggily as he climbed to his feet. While he should have been upset at the attack, he had been impressed with the raw power Kadeus seemed to hold, a power that would one day hopefully be his.

  Kadeus gave an arrogant smile and hopped back up onto his throne. "Now, on to the matters at hand." He snapped his fingers and a tall, lean apprentice brought a rolled up piece of parchment, followed by a shorter, nondescript man with a black eye. They unfurled it across the ground at Sagaroth's feet, revealing a map. "Thank you, Dryn, Dameus." He looked curiously at the shorter apprentice. “Dameus,” he said, motioning to his eye. “What happened?”

  “Béarnaise happened,” Dameus said.

  Kadeus looked confused. “Béarnaise… which one is he?”

  “The fat ginger from southern Gaul we just took on. It seems he has an unnatural talent for being able to channel source energy. First day of Raw Power, he animated a corpse, and it back-fisted me and took off screaming.”

  Kadeus’ confusion turned to amusement. “His first day? What a remarkable feat! Promote him out of Raw Power into Focus Control.”

  “But, my lord, most junior apprentices spend five years…”

  “Damn it, Dameus, I said promote him!” Kadeus replied forcefully.

  The two apprentices gave short bows and walked to either side of the gold throne as Kadeus turned his attention back to the Lord General. “Now, as to why you were brought here. There are several reasons. First, to reward you for years your service.”

  Sagaroth’s eyes lit up. “Am I going to be given the power to raise the dead?”

  Kadeus bit his lip. “Well, that power isn’t exactly ours to give. The ability to reach into the source of our power is inborn. You either have it or you don’t.” He turned to the right. “Dameus, test him, will you?”

  The black-robed man stepped down from the throne platform and extended his right hand to the large general.

  Sagaroth clasped his hand.

  “Hm. Nothing,” Dameus said. “He can’t touch the source.” The necromancer returned to his place.

  Profound disappointment washed over Sagaroth.

  “I’m sorry, General,” Kadeus said. “But realize the ability to touch the source is extremely rare. However, I have another reward for your service. Your immediate superior in our network, Master Kendall, has been killed.”

  Sagaroth’s disappointment ebbed as his curiosity was piqued. “Oh? When did this happen?”

  “Not long ago. However, my first apprentice, Tolinar, has identified you as the perfect person to take his place as the head of the network. This puts you in our inner circle, General. This is a great honor.”

  Sagaroth smiled. Yet another promotion to add to his accomplishments. “I accept your offer, Lord Kadeus.”

  “Good. Now, over the next few days, you shall be our guest so we can bring you up to speed on your new position. You will be working directly with my first apprentice, Tolinar. Time is short, and we have a very… ambitious plan. You did prepare for this as you were instructed, didn’t you? We don’t want you to be missed by your people.”

  “Don’t concern yourself over it, Lord Kadeus. I’ve left word I am going on a hunting expedition,” Sagaroth explained.

  Kadeus nodded. "Good. To other matters then. As you well know, Elgannan has been at war on and off with Caledonia and Gylinia for several generations. The war has started to take hold again, and this time the tide is turning against Elgannan. With the army occupied to the north, now is the perfect time to strike. I want to extend Aragil's borders to the Eastern coast, adding Kheog, Lystra, and New Portsmouth to its list of trade centers."

  Sagaroth looked up and stared at Kadeus in disbelief. "Surely, you’re joking. I can’t take my armies across the Elgannan border without a direct order from King Tyral. The king is not a warrior, and he relishes the peace he's kept with Elgannan."

  The necromancer waved his hand dismissively. "Do not concern yourself with the king. He has been dealt with."

  "How?"

  Kadeus slowly shook his head. "While word has not gotten out yet, Tyral’s health has been deteriorating by design. Two days ago, Prince Eric, the heir-apparent, was killed in a hunting accident. Unfortunately, that is how we lost Master Kendall. Upon hearing of the death of his eldest son, it was too much for him. The king died this morning. Given that his second son Tobias is a Holy Defender initiate, and thus ineligible to reign, this places very close friend of our… cause… on the throne. The king's third-born son, Price Dorian."

  A smile slowly crept across Sagaroth's face. He knew of Prince Dorian's disposition toward the Aragil / Elgannan treaty. He had met the prince once, and was very impressed with him. The feeling had been mutual. With Dorian on the throne, the face of the world could change. Sagaroth glanced at the map, puzzled. "To what end is this military conquest? What is your ultimate plan? Accumulation of power?"

  "Such a myopic view of the world, Lord Sagaroth." Kadeus snickered, giving off several snorts. "At this time, it is necessary to keep everything in place, and several factions are a threat. One of these threats is to be dealt with by you. We must cut off Elgannan’s supply of iron by removing three cities from its control. With Prince Dorian on the throne, you shall have no problem conquering the lands I have specified."

  "I do not share your optimism, Lord Kadeus. I foresee two problems, two very influential families." Sagaroth pointed to the city of Kheog on the map. "The Branvolds…" His hand moved to Lystra. "…and the Ki Kalendeens. These families MUST be eliminated if any attack is to succeed. If we attack while Lord Alexander Ki Kalendeen and Lord Zareth Branvold are present, a massive army will be raised in a matter of days. Worse yet, they are both in very high standing with the church. A few weeks after the attack, our troops might be set upon by Holy Defenders. There will be far more bloodshed than necessary, assuming we could win at all."

  Kadeus stared at him doubtfully. "Are you certain of this?"

  Sagaroth looked up from the map. "I leave magic and creating undead to you. Leave matters of war to me. Tell me, have you ever even seen a battle, Lord Kadeus?"

  Kadeus scratched his sweaty chin. "I apologize, Lord Sagaroth. The master gives us all different gifts. From what I have heard, someone as...unworldly as I should not question your knowledge of military matters. So, we must remove these two lords from their manors. What about the Lord of New Portsmouth?"

  "Lord Eddington? He is a spineless weasel, more interested in gossiping at court or fretting around his castle over self-induced crises." Sagaroth shook his head. "No, he will not be a problem. But Ki Kalendeen was the Lord General to King Edgar, then King Nicolae, briefly, after Edgar died. He has seen countless battles, and Branvold not many less. The word from Caledonia is that armies led by those two were all but unstoppable. Branvold’s armies could smash through any line, and Ki Kalendeen would know what his enemies were going to do before they did. These two and their families must be put down."

  "Do you have any ideas on how this is to be accomplished?"

  "First, I shall need magic support from you. Second, I shall need extremely loyal stealth troops. My men could be recognized. Third, I need special weapons for my best warriors. If you can provide these to me, I will eliminate both families."

  "All these things will be provided to you. I shall send Dameus back with you. He is my second apprentice and he can ‘raise’ the dead quite well. That will take care of your first two requirements. As for the third..."

  Kadeus turned and nodded to Dameus, who mumbled something angrily under his breath and quickly left the room, shaking his head. A few seconds later, he returned with an ordinary-looking broadsword and scabbard, handing them to Sagaroth.

  As Sagaroth touched the hilt of the sword, a rush of energy filled every bit of his very existence.
The hilt and guard turned to bone, which melded perfectly to his grip. The sword itself grew dark as fire grew out of the glowing red arcane runes that ran along the length of the blade. Black and vile with the worst feeling of evil he had ever encountered, yet alive with raw power, his very soul felt as if it were on fire.

  "I hope you like your new gift," Kadeus said. "I call it a Hellfire Blade, as it was forged in the very fires of Hell itself. It will practically ignore armor and slice through flesh and bone as if through warm lard. You shall never grow weary in battle while you wield it, and if the situation is desperate enough, the Blade can call forth the fires of Hell to engulf any and all opponents. I must warn you, use that power only if your survival depends on it. Staring into the fires of Hell will have a very negative effect on you. The blacksmith that created this blade was able to make very few of these weapons before he went insane and killed himself, begging forgiveness from…" The necromancers mouth twisted, as if he had just sucked on an over ripe lime. "From the master's enemy." Kadeus spat on the floor in disgust. "Now, as to when this strike will occur."

  Sagaroth looked up from the blade, drunk with the raw, demonic power emanating from the sword. "On the 30th of Frostwane, the perfect opportunity will present itself..."

  * * * * * *

  "David, wake up," the gentle voice said. A hand gingerly shook his shoulder.

  Groggily, he opened his eyes and pushed the blankets back off his face. The cold chill of the castle air that entered his lungs contrasted sharply with the soft warmth of the bed, covers piled three high atop his body. His nanny, Jolina, stood over him, excited smile draped across her grandmotherly face. "Oh, Nana, just a little longer. Please?"

  She shook her chubby finger sternly at the young man. "David Ki Kalendeen, you get out of that bed right now. We mustn't keep everyone waiting. The sun has been up for quite some time now, and master Alexander wants to speak to all of the members of his wedding party in an hour. Your mother and Lady Branvold have been planning this marriage for seven months, and it will not be ruined by the likes of you!" Her tone softened a bit. "I've had Drake draw a nice warm bath for you. If you sleep much longer, you won't have time for breakfast."

  The warm bath did sound inviting. "Yes, Nana." Slowly and uncomfortably, he got out of bed. Every muscle in his body ached, amplified by the sudden feeling of the crisp morning air washing over him. The day before, the Branvold family and their servants had arrived at Lystra for the wedding of Mareth Branvold and his oldest brother, Alexander Ki Kalendeen IV. He and his friend Liam had spent the past evening sparring with practice swords, trying to outdo one another in feats of strength, and running through the entire castle. They had played for several hours past their bedtime, as they always did whenever they were fortunate enough to see one another. The city of Kheog was three days’ journey to the west, so they only saw each other four or five times a year.

  His feet hit the cold stone floor with a painful thud. He bowed his head to Jolina, as he had always been taught to respect his elders, even if they were servants. "Thank you, Nana."

  She gave him a warm smile, patted him on his shoulder, and walked out the door, closing it gently behind her. David had a lot of affection for Jolina, as much as he would have for his own grandmothers, had he known either of them. She had been Nanny to the Ki Kalendeens for two generations. She was hired to first take care of his father, the now Lord Alexander III, then his uncle Rameus, born six years later, who was now a Holy Defender. She also took care of Alexander IV, his brother Gabriel born three years later, his sister Eleenia two year after that, and now him. David was the youngest, born two years after his sister. Everyone thought Jolina would retire after David, but she was thrilled with the possibility of serving the Ki Kalendeens for a third generation. His brother Alexander had always wanted a large family, and he and his new bride were planning on having a child within the first year of their marriage, if it was within the will of God.

  A shiver swept over him as the chill of the floor seeped into his previously warm feet. He walked over to the door of his private bath, and as he opened it, a flood of steam poured out of the little room. Quickly darting in, he closed the door behind him so as to not let any more heat escape than necessary.

  The warmth of the water overtook him as he lowered himself into the tub. Slowly his muscles began to loosen and the pain ebbed out of them. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and tried to picture what was going on in the rest of the castle. His mother would be running around like a mad woman, shouting orders at the servants, trying to make everything just right for the wedding. His oldest brother, Alexander, would be taking his morning horse ride around the grounds on his horse, Skylark, despite his mother’s objections. Knowing his father, he would still be asleep. The Branvolds would be asking if there was anything they could do to help, being told promptly by his mother to stay out of the way. Servants would be darting here and there, getting the wedding feast ready, hanging decorations, thus adding festive coloring to the dull gray of the castle.

  There were only two things missing, his brother and sister, Gabriel and Eleenia. Both of them were twelve days’ journey away at the Archbishop’s University in Avonshire. Gabriel was undergoing training to become a Knight of the Holy Defenders. Eleenia was being educated to become a healer. At least one day, she would return to Lystra, but the life Gabriel chose would never permit that, unless it was in service to the Archbishop. It was common practice for the younger siblings of a family to join the church, if they could not marry into another wealthy family. The oldest son received the lands and the Lordship when the father passed away. The remaining children were given nothing, and often told to leave the castle. Sometimes they were forcibly removed, depending on the mood of the eldest son. If they were allowed to remain, they would be well taken care of, but have no power nor say in their life whatsoever. Alexander promised that when he took over as the Lord of Lystra, all of his brothers and sisters would be welcome to stay and they would be given the position of advisors, something very uncommon, but not unheard of. The practice of the younger siblings joining the church had led to a lot of corruption over the past few centuries. Spoiled children of nobles usually didn’t make good clergy, often having several illegitimate children. According to Gabriel’s last few letters, the Archbishop had been busy rooting these corrupt people out of the clergy, but he was not always as successful as he liked to believe. Gabriel had also said that he hoped David would come to Avonshire when he came of age in two years to join the Holy Defenders. He said it would be for the best. That was one of the only problems he had with Gabriel. He always thought he knew what was best for everyone. Still, David had not ruled it out. But he had a year and six months left to make his decision. Liam Branvold would probably go. If that was the case, he probably would, too. A good many stories surrounding the Holy Defenders centered on two knights who had joined the order after being lifelong childhood friends. However, most of the stories ended up having one of the two knights die.

  “Master David….” Drake had brought his breakfast into his bedroom.

  “In a few moments, Drake.”

  “Please hurry, Master David. After Master Alexander’s meeting, your father wishes to see you in the courtroom.”

  Father wished to see him? How strange. And in the courtroom, none the less. David was never allowed in the courtroom, especially when his father was judging cases. With the exception of his brother Alexander, none of the family was permitted in the courtroom.

  He stepped out of the bathtub, dripping onto the stone floor. Quickly, he dried himself off and put on his clean clothes. The clothes were starting to get damp from the steam. Opening the door, he stepped out.

  He sat down at his small bedroom table, where Drake had laid out his breakfast. He started to say a quick prayer of thanks, when loud voices in the hallway outside distracted him. Voice
s upon voices echoed down the corridor. Many wedding guests had arrived last night, and probably a lot more this morning. The servants were certainly earning their pay today. Families from the city and all over the countryside would be on hand for Alexander and Mareth's wedding. He had heard his mother say two hundred people would be there, but Lady Branvold estimated there would be more than three hundred and fifty. Given his father's reputation as Lord of Lystra, who was known throughout the land as Lord Alexander the Just, it was a wonder there weren't a thousand.

  David quickly started eating his breakfast. Warm bread and sweet pastries, probably made just a few minutes before, sat before him. Steam still rose from them, accented by the cold of the morning air.

  A knock came to the door. "Master David!"

  "Yes, Nana?" he answered.

  "I hope you are ready, because it is time to meet your brother."

  David took a few large, quick bites of the pastries. He opened the door, mouth bulging with food.

  Jolina took him by the hand, pulled him into the hallway, and shoed him along. "Remember, your father wants to see you as soon as you are finished with your brother!"

  He trotted off down the hallway, trying to chew and swallow the enormous amount of pastry in his mouth. People filled the hallways like never before, at least in his memory. He recognized a few servants, but other than that, most were strangers. Merchants and craftsman passed him by, with the occasional knight or noble. Picking up his pace, he rounded the corner.

  *BANG* His head connected with something metal. The breath was knocked out of him as his back impacted on the floor. Looking up in amazement, he saw what he thought was the largest man ever to live. The man's arms looked at least as thick as David's legs, and his legs looked as wide as David’s torso. He was at a loss for words. From his perspective, the man looked over eight feet tall. A massive hand reached down to offer assistance.