Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (6 page)

“The Transvartius? The Traveler? The Hidden Diplomat? That Transvartius?” Cite asked. Rogen nodded. “I know tales. Some say it is a title given to the highest priest of the Walking God, so it’s passed from man to man. Others say he is a man that has walked the world for centuries, kept alive by fae blood or magics. It’s said he travels in the guise of a storyteller mostly, wandering from land to land, sometimes helping, and sometimes watching history happen. Some say he has more power than most kings and others say he pulls the strings of most of the kings alive today.” Cite looked over at Rogen. “You asked me for a reason. What do you know about him?”

“I know Transvartius gave me a manuscript that he wrote. I believe it is about you, me, and the events currently going on in the world.” Rogen looked at Cite and began to recite:

“A fallen star approaches but never falls,

It shall bring things in threes,

Changes that no man would wish,

And Hell shall bring the world to its knees

Stone and metal forges the key,

The key opens demons’ doors when bade,

A weapon forged to break Kingdoms,

Seek the man who cuts with no blade

Kingdoms and cities shall fall,

Crushed long ago new Hope fled,

Blood red city in the sand,

Honor crumbles, noble deeds dead

Rape, plunder, loot, and hate,

Limited ways to open the gate,

Shine upon the faces of doubt,

Saving evil and breaking the devout

Time Towers over the entire World,

Repel the stars and shatter all Bands,

Find the others and seek the way of wrong,

For Time is dead, and Death devours the lands

Five magics to bind the Circle,

Seven sins to break the Hold,

Countless people to carry the Hope,

One to do as the Gods have never told.”

They walked on for a while, neither of them saying anything. In his head, Cite was going over the words Rogen had just recited. Flashes of his dreams came to him, but he couldn’t find any connection with the poem. The Rokairn wondered what the boy was thinking.

“The moon will be full in a few days,” Rogen looked up at the waxing moon as he spoke. “There should be enough light for us to travel well into the night. Just be careful, as the desert can hide many pitfalls in the light, in the dark they are doubly dangerous. But while we walk I may as well begin teaching you some of what you will need to know about weapons and using them.”

Rogen launched into a history of weapons, how they are made, why certain blades curved when others were straight, the function of a polearm or staff over a sword or shorter blade. He spoke of this for a couple of hours and answered questions from Cite. Taktak demonstrated basic staff attacks and defense, as the others watched. When they came upon another oasis, they stopped for a rest.

“We will stop here,” Rogen said. “I will show you some techniques of how to use those daggers now. Do not expect the ones you create to be the same though. I am guessing they will have a different weight and pull as well as feel much different when cutting into someone. Sybia and Calleus, you set up camp and make a fire. Prepare dinner. Taktak, you will show the boy more about the staff and practice with him after I finish with knife training.”

“Be careful of his wounds,” Sybia warned, “they can tear open again.”

“I know, mother hen,” said Rogen, “I will be gentle with the boy. After a bit of training we will rest. I would say we should go on, but I do not think we can reach the next oasis before we tire, or the sun rises.”

And so it went for the next few days. They rested in the heat of the day and traveled by the waxing moon. Each time they stopped to rest, they practiced with the staff and blades until Cite’s arms ached and he couldn’t go on. Sybia tended to Cite’s chest wound, which was not deep but was serious enough to need checking. The time walking was spent discussing weapons in the beginning, but soon turned to Cite asking questions of the others; learning about the healing arts from Sybia, trade from Calleus, Taktak’s people, and about Rogen’s past. Cite knew that Rogen, as one of the Stone Folk, lived much longer than humans did. He asked about history, comparing what he had been taught to the knowledge of a man who was alive when it happened, and on rare occasion even participated in it.

Rogen also delved a bit into Cite’s knowledge. The boy was studied on the ways of magics. He knew about trade to the east, whereas most of Rogen’s trade went to the west; the cities of the east did not condone slavery the way the west did. Rogen asked about Cite’s abilities, feeling out how as much as the boy was willing to tell. It did not take long before he knew the boy was open and willing to share most of what he knew. So the journey went.

Chapter 4: Two Headed Coins

“If life isn’t a game, then I’m not playing!”

Nomed

5854 – Thon – Jordar – Lasin

He was almost always hidden from mortal eyes, but not this time. Many eyes sought him. He had many enemies and he reveled in that, delighting in the challenge. He thrived on the contest, and rose to face any obstacle. It made him feel alive. He cherished anyone he drove to rage, despair, or best of all, over the edge of sanity. Nomed loved what he did, which was why he was the best at manipulating and controlling people, his puppets.

The room filled with music from the string quartet playing a dancing tune, and was light and airy under the domed ceiling, which housed a dozen crystal chandeliers. Scented oils in the censers made the room smell like spring, even though autumn approached. Servants dressed in black and white carried silver trays laden with wines, brandies, and food from all corners of the continent covered in savory sauces. The crowd moved with graceful swirls, a riot of color and jewels, to the music.

Always a flair for the dramatic, Nomed swirled his short cape, and spun away from a maiden which he had lured to the dance floor at the grandest ball of the season in the Kingdom of Humbrey. All thirteen noble houses were in attendance, as well as every small-time hopeful in the kingdom. All eyes watched his graceful actions – some with envy, others with desire; the movements he did without thinking were more than any other could do. The men watched with jealousy, and the women watched with lust in their eyes. The charming man, who danced with the movements that could not quite be explained, was dressed simply compared to most of the men in the room. His cape was a basic black; his breeches, tucked into polished black knee boots, were a dark brown with gold buttons. A brown doublet over a cream-colored blouse, which was untied, showed more of his chest than appropriate in a cultured gathering. Dancing without care, his pearly smile glinted in the thousand candles that lit the hall, his dark hair was almost indigo and his eyes the deep blue of a stormy ocean. He smiled at men or woman, bowed to all, and startled, charmed, or confused everyone he touched.

Nomed knew what he did to people, and it made his grin grow, though he was careful that it did not become a wolfish one. He loved what he did, and no one could do it better. He moved from woman to woman, and stopped to kiss the hand of an effeminate nobleman. The man’s face blushed under his powder as he fanned himself to keep from fainting. The aristocrat noticed a plain-sheathed dagger peeking from under the dashing man’s cloak as he spun away to dance with another woman. Men openly wore daggers, swords, and other showpieces, often covered with gems and jewels, but the lack of decoration on Nomed’s weapon made it appear sinister and dangerous.

Plucking a glass of wine from one tray, and a spiced shrimp from another, Nomed moved into the night air as he glided onto a balcony, with a rhythmic gait. Even his walk was a dance, and every movement drew people’s stares. Popping the shrimp into his mouth, he leaned against the wide marble railing, sipped his wine, and watched the crowd. He spotted a man in a small knot of the upper crust’s finest patrons. It was an older man, slightly round and graying at the temples, who carried a jeweled walking stick, which men his age preferred rather than a rapier or other weapons. The noble stood talking with three others. Nomed grinned as he decided how to break into the conversation. He approached the group.

“Jaeken, I need to speak to you about matters of great urgency, the fate of the land is at stake,” Nomed said, interrupting the discussion of the day, which was all about the comet in the sky, the Talisman.

Jaeken paled, staring at the man who had appeared from the night shadows. The other men looked back and forth between Jaeken and the stranger. They shuffled and looked towards the well-lit ballroom. Nomed stared at Jaeken, and reached out to run a finger across a line of pearls sewn onto the doublet of one of the other men. Nomed turned his head to look at the nervous fop as the man jerked away. The dandy’s eyes locked on Nomed’s hand in a mix of fear and excitement.

“Dandelos, you should return to your manor to check on your wife, Myrian, who was not feeling well this eve,” Nomed told the man, his sly grin speaking of forbidden knowledge. He watched the man turn and flee the balcony. Nomed turned to another one of the men. “Candol, perhaps you should go with him to protect your son Kinvin’s life when your friend finds him with his wife?”

With a cursory bow to the two remaining men, Candol also took his leave.

The third man began to excuse himself when Nomed interrupted, “Perhaps you should stay, Alixin. This concerns the church of Jonath also, and the horrors you bring upon others.”

The two remaining men were taken aback. This unknown man, who had appeared from nowhere and spouted information each of them thought to be private, now insulted the church. Neither of the nobles were strangers to confrontation. They drew a breath, stood up straight, and steeled themselves for the encounter. Nomed smiled, knowing what was about to come next.

“Lord Jaeken, do you know this man?” the second man, who was dressed in a long gray robe and wore the symbol of Jonath the God of Justice, asked.

“No, Lord Father Alixin, I do not, but I do not like what he has implied of the church,” Lord Jaeken replied.

Nomed watched as the men puffed up and tried to comfort each other with their own importance and indignation. Humans were predictable. But then again, so were plays, yet he kept going to see them. The men began the inevitable barrage of questions.

“Who are you, and why have you come?” Lord Jaeken asked, turning to face Nomed.

“That’s really not important to you, Jaeken.” Nomed said, the insult of the lack of the man’s title hanging in the air. “Something comes this way, and are you prepared?” Inserting himself between the two men, he took Jaeken and the priest by their elbows and guided them towards the railing. Both men, talking at the same time, sputtered the expected responses to deny what Nomed suggested.

“Gentlemen, stop,” Nomed said in a quiet but strong voice as he paused by the edge of the balcony overlooking the city and gestured at the night sky. “Humbrey has stood for centuries as the gleaming example of knighthood and all things associated with it. Now, it is rotting from within. You both have seen it. Jaeken, you have two sons, Cyril and Cyrus, who were closer to one another than your own testicles are to each other, and now they have split. The lads that is, not your testicles. Dire times indeed. I would watch your testicles just to be safe.

“Alixin, you have been a priest for decades,” Nomed said, ignoring the priest’s title also. “You have hidden your affairs with married women, never been caught siring children with those women, and now you have used your God’s blessed gifts to do something horrible. You have created divisions between fathers and sons, and made brothers’ love and trust become a weapon to tear them apart.” Nomed watched the implication sink into Jaeken’s thoughts. Nomed knew part of what he insinuated was true, but often learned more by watching others as they mulled over what he had intimated. It was fun watching others play with the thoughts in their heads. It was like watching a dog given a treat that tastes bad, but won’t spit it out.

“This Kingdom is in danger,” Nomed continued, “it is on the brink of destruction. The Talisman foreshadows many things to come, but some things can be stopped. I think you both have to consider the larger picture.”

“What is it you are getting at?” Lord Father Alixin asked.

“Alixin. Never has the church created such an atrocity as the monster you helped create from a loyal servant of Jonath, and the corruption that took seed from this abomination will lead to many things. Giving one man so much power is often dangerous, don’t you think?”

Nomed wove a picture of woe and doom, playing on the things these men loved and the secrets they feared. He deftly built a scenario that tied the men together, but placed things between them so they would never trust each other completely. The men tried to interject, to argue, but each time they did it was weaker than before. Nomed knew his craft well, and he loved what he did. There is no one better at any craft, than someone who loves the work they do.

“Jaeken, use your influence. Rouse the knights of each of the thirteen great houses. Look to the south. Alixin, rouse the church. What happened may not have been your, or the church’s fault. Much magic lies in Malvor, the city just south of Humbrey’s lands. It has been secretive for far too long. It is time some of its secrets were spilled.” Nomed stopped and looked at each man. “Go now, no more arguments. It is urgent that this begins now, and the Changing Wheel will need time to grind out what it must.”

The men turned and left, Lord Father Alixin with haste and worry in his steps, and Lord Jaeken moved much slower but with a steady determination. Nomed almost felt pity for him, but knew the sins of the father were the sins of the sons. Soon Jaeken would be able to worry about only one, either his sons or his sins, but not both. Nomed smiled as the shadows enveloped him and people no longer noticed him, instead they walked around where he stood without realizing they did so.

Nomed watched the celebration sparkle and spin in its drunken haze as the night went on. Chill night air enveloped him as the scent of sweat and sour wine wafted from inside. He was considering reentering the fray of a festivity, when he felt another presence in the darkness, and that stole his smile from him for a moment. It returned as he thought of the fun he would have if he could manipulate the man behind him. Nomed turned and smiled, this time it was a wolfish grin.

“Duke Malvornick, how nice to see you again. It has been, what, twenty-five years or more since we have spoken, hasn’t it?” Nomed asked.

Duke Malvornick stepped forward, the shadows touching him, wavering. Sometimes they flowed to meet him, other times they emanated from him in waves. The Duke was a powerfully built man, decked out in the finest silks and jewels. His brown hair was meticulous, and shone in the dim light. Other men moved in the curtain of shadows around the Duke, and Nomed saw through the façade that hid their true forms. The beings behind Duke Malvornick were akin to demonic jackals in human form, and they were hungry.

Duke Malvornick circled Nomed, forcing him to either turn to follow him, or allow him access to his back. Nomed grinned wider at the juvenile tactic and stood still. He focused on one of the entourage trailing after its master. The beast stopped and leaned against a pillar, confused but not wanting to show it. Nomed watched it, letting his smile fade into a tight-lipped glare. The beast shrunk back behind the pillar as Duke Malvornick completed his circuit of Nomed and stopped, blocking his view of the creature. Nomed stared through Malvornick, in the direction of his quarry.

“Ah, it is good to see that you know not to look into the eyes of your betters,” Duke Malvornick said, picking a non-existent piece of lint from his gem-studded doublet.

Nomed looked up into Duke Malvornick’s eyes, as if he had not noticed him before. In a tone of stating a simple fact, Nomed said, “I do not notice rats, curs, or whores whose services I do not plan to purchase either. When one’s ego precedes him, much as yours does, it is unnecessary to bother to see if you are preening or not. I was just thinking of you, and much like an upset stomach predicts stinking gas, here you are. How may I be of service to you, Your Worshipfulness?” Nomed imitated and mocked Duke Malvornick’s superior tone.

“I see you are watching my pet. Do you desire it? Perhaps you miss the taste of the flesh that helped birth you?” Malvornick asked, as if Nomed had not spoken at all. “You remember what happened when you last crossed me, just a year ago, half-breed? All the people you were dealing with died. You wouldn’t want that again, would you?”

“My dearest Duke, I do recall that. But you wound me. They died at my hand. How many city blocks did I bring to an end for the sake of destroying your fun? How much of your time and resources were lost in that endeavor in the city of Everyway?” Nomed chuckled. “Those lives meant nothing to me; they were well worth the price to watch you as you choked on it, and yes, I did watch you. Right from the little courtyard and assembly you keep, with your drug bought sycophants and power hungry lapdogs. I sat amongst them and even rubbed the belly of a few of your favorites, and now they roll over for me upon command.”

“Yes, you did destroy it, but I rebuilt it, and thanks to your actions it is better hidden than I ever could have done myself. Once again, you were my pawn.” Malvornick smirked.

“Until someone informed the brave city guards who discovered it. Now Grenedal Dragonblood was born and Hue Blueaxe was reborn, and I have again shut down your plans to bring more vermin into this world. Now, we can go back and forth on this for hours, days even, but I do not have the time nor interest in wasting time on offal such as you. If you have a point, please come to it; otherwise, please expire.” Nomed turned and sauntered towards the pillar that hid his earlier quarry.

“You would be smart not to turn your back on me, half-breed!” Malvornick growled, as his silk gauntlets became a metallic silvery gold swirl of color, spikes growing from them. “I can destroy you whenever I feel the urge,”

“Then do so, Malvornick, or go away. I doubt you want to harm your image here in Humbrey though. You may be able to destroy many people, but could you handle the whole righteous Kingdom at once?” Nomed asked, turning and looking at Malvornick with a bland stare.