Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign (Worlds of the Crystal Moon, Book 1) (69 page)

The wisp’s melody was soft and carried a sense of peace as it delivered the information necessary to rid itself of George’s presence.

Soon, George knew all about the Barbarian Kingdom. The barbarians would not know of his ability, and he would be able to enter Bloodvain’s arena without suspicion.

Once again, the light of the sphere became blinding. When George removed his hands from his face, the wisp was gone and so was the envelope. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust before he headed back to camp.

Though shaken from the experience, George now knew how to put his power to its best use. But had he created an enemy while gaining this knowledge? His face was a series of chaotic expressions as he chastised himself all the way back to camp.

When he finally made his way down the mountainside, the others were awake and night was fading fast. They expressed concern about his absence, though Maldwin’s worry was the only genuine expression in the group.

George informed them of his meeting with the wisp. “I now have a plan. I’m going to fight for the Crown of Bloodvain.”

“What?” Kepler growled. “Are you an imbecile? The barbarians are the most ruthless two-legs throughout the territories of Southern Grayham. They don’t allow magic in their king’s arena. You won’t be allowed to challenge their champion.”

Amar jumped into the conversation, “I agree. How do you expect to do this when you’re commanding the arts? Without your power, you’ll be pummeled into a pile of garesh.”

“What the hell is garesh?” George questioned.

Annoyed, Amar replied, “You know ... garesh ... when a horse lifts its tail and drops it to the ground.”

George laughed. “I get it. A pile of garesh, he says. I think I like that. I’m gonna start using it.”

Maldwin chimed in, “I like cheese, George!”

The group turned to look at the rat.

Kepler shook his head. “He just wants to be part of the conversation. This is the only phrase I’ve been able to teach him so far.” The jaguar smirked and shrugged. “I thought it would be funny.”

George chuckled. “I like this damn rat.” He leaned down and scratched the top of Maldwin’s head. “You guys are right. The Barbarian King won’t allow anyone who uses words of power or magical items in his arena. The king will only allow a fighter to wear a fur cloth to cover his family jewels.”

“Family jewels?” Amar quizzed.

George rolled his eyes. “For real? You really don’t know what that means? This place drives me nuts.” George grabbed his sack and lifted. “Family jewels is another name for your nuts, Amar. You know, the part that hurts when I kick you between the legs for interrupting me?” George released his grip and let them fall back into place. “Where I’m from, we also call it ‘your junk.’ Don’t make me kick you in your junk.”

Amar had to grin. “I apologize. By all means, please continue. My junk is fine without your foot being placed against it.”

Kepler snarled, “Humans!”

Maldwin shouted at Kepler in his own language, wanting to know what the humans were discussing. After Kepler explained, the rat rolled over onto his back and began laughing as he reached down with his front claw and grabbed between his back legs to express his understanding of the word, “junk.”

Again, George laughed. “Now, that’s the funniest damn thing I’ve seen.”

The group enjoyed a pleasant series of moments before George continued the conversation. “Anyway ... as I was about to say ... the king won’t let me in the arena in anything but a cloth. There are no weapons allowed. Think about this for a moment. I don’t need to speak words or use magical items. My ability works naturally, and all I have to do is touch someone. Not only that, but I can turn a specific part of his best fighter to stone, and they’ll never know it.”

“Yes they will,” Kepler responded. “Barbarians harvest the heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, and the brain before placing them in jars as part of their passing celebrations. They’ll know if you have done something when they open their champion up and see that his insides are made of stone.”

George thought a bit. “What do they do with the rest of the body?”

“Well…” the jaguar collected his thoughts, “for those barbarians who are held in high regard, they burn them on the Blood Sea. It is the sea that swallows them. Then everyone returns to their lair to celebrate.”

“There you have it,” George blurted. “I’ll turn the parts to stone that won’t be cut from the body. The sea can cover up the truth. I’ll turn the inside of their champion’s Adam’s apple to stone, or maybe the inside of a small part of his brain so he can’t get signals to the rest of his body. This would give me the moments I need to move in, smack him around a bit, make it look real and then run. I’ll figure it out before we get there, I’m sure.”

Amar stood, looked at Kepler and then started to pace. “George, when Lasidious told me I should travel with you, I didn’t imagine that you had this kind of nerve. If you pull this off, you’ll be ruler of the Barbarian Kingdom. We would be enemies of Brandor.”

Amar massaged the end of his chin. “My family lives in Lethwitch. If we become enemies of Brandor, you must promise we won’t attack Lethwitch.”

George nodded. “You’re right. This does present a problem. Athena’s family is also from Lethwitch.” He agreed not to attack the area only because he cared for Athena’s family.

George pulled out his map. The moment had come to formulate a better plan. “Kepler, it’ll take you at least 20 Peaks to reach the Blood Sea platform since you can’t ride the hippogriffs. Why don’t you go to the platform and wait for the rest of us to arrive?”

Amar stopped him. “Without kicking me in my junk, I need you to listen. We have a problem. We cannot fly to the Blood Sea platform. The hippogriffs do fly there, but they won’t take someone out of Brandor and fly them into barbarian territory. The rule of the kingdoms states: no being may fly into a kingdom he’s not from. The only exception to this rule is Angels Village, because it’s protected by the gods. The closest landing tower anywhere near Bloodvain’s is in Gessler Village. This is a place where the roughest crowds from both kingdoms have a tendency to migrate. This village is considered neutral territory, and it’s not owned by either kingdom.”

Kepler jumped into the conversation. “That’s because I dominate the passes surrounding the village. Gessler has been a continual supply for me when building my skeleton army. I stay out of the village for the most part, but on occasion, I enter to find a fool. I catch 40 to 50 victims a season as the walk through my pass. I don’t understand why they go to Gessler when they know I prowl this territory. Perhaps it’s because—”

“Kepler, will you get to the point?” George snapped.

“Sorry!” The jaguar’s eyes flashed. “I think what Amar is trying to say is that you’ll need protection while in Gessler since the crowd isn’t pleasant. I have an idea. Instead of meeting at the Blood Sea platform, I’ll make my way to Gessler, but it will take 23 Peaks to get there. I want you to arrive the next Peak. My brothers and I will be hiding in the shadows in case you need us. Get off the hippogriff and make your way to an inn called The Bloody Trough. You won’t see us unless you’re attacked.”

George responded, “Kepler, it scares the crap … wait ... it scares the
garesh
out of me that you can hide like that. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re on my side.” He reached down, picked Maldwin up and scratched the back of the rat’s head as he continued. “Your plan is a good one. We should do it. Will you ask Maldwin if he can project his visions to a group of people?”

Unsure where George was going with his question, the demon spoke with the rat. Once finished, the demon relayed Maldwin’s answer to George. “He said yes, but if it’s a big group, they’ll all see the same vision.”

“Exactly how big is too big of a group before they start seeing the same thing? How many people can he project his visions to before he has to stop?”

Again, Kepler asked and responded, “He said more than three and they’ll need to see the same image. He has projected visions to his entire family before and they total more than 200.”

The manipulator smiled. “Holy garesh! I bet he has no clue if he can do more than that. So ... less than three, he can project separate visions and more than three, they’ll all see the same thing. Is that what he’s saying?”

Again, the undead cat asked the rat to confirm. “He said you’re right, and he imagines he can project his visions to many more.”

George put Maldwin on the ground and then put his hands behind the back of his head as he started to ramble off another plan. “Let’s figure out what the three of us will do until Kepler gets to Gessler. I think we should go back to Lethwitch. We can spend some quality moments with our loved ones and work on the problem regarding rival kingdoms...”

George continued to ramble as he outlined a complete plan.

Three Nights Later

Fellow soul ... before we go on to the next part of the story, allow me to interject another small history lesson. This particular lesson is about The Bloody Trough Inn located in Gessler Village.

The inn acquired its name before it was built. When the people first began to travel to Gessler, the center of the village was used for watering the area’s horses. The people built a three-pace-high, twelve-pace-long, sloping, rock wall on the spot where the inn would later be built. Twelve troughs, six on either side, each formed out of rock, had been laid into the base of the wall.

A natural spring bubbled to the surface not far away and provided water for the area. Through a series of pipes, the people of the village used gravity to direct the flow to the top of the wall where the water funneled into each of the troughs.

One night, while the village slept, a double murder was committed. The bodies of the beheaded men were thrown across the top of the wall. The corpses plugged the flow of water, and when morning rolled around, their blood had stained the walls of one of the troughs and turned the water inside it red.

Though the blood faded over the seasons, this one trough had been labeled, and the family who built the inn decided to use this label as their inspiration. The inn was named The Bloody Trough. To this Peak, a man can take his horse into the tunnel below the inn and leave it to drink.

The assassin, Double D, had made his way through the first part of Skeleton Pass, and he was sitting on a stool inside The Bloody Trough. He was drinking ale and had been contemplating his trip through the second part of the pass when an unexpected event occurred.

The assassin had been paid over a season ago by one of the nobles of Bloodvain who lived in the Barbarian Kingdom to kill an arrogant sergeant for sleeping with his wife. The job was not one Double D would have normally accepted, but the pay had been up-front and substantial.

However, when Double D acquired the contract, someone talked. When his future victim heard that he had been solicited to kill him, the spineless piece of garesh fled before the assassin could establish a plan.

As always in life, things had a way of coming full circle. This particular barbarian, dressed in furs and heavy, leather pants, happened to walk into the same bar where Double D was sitting.

As Double D studied his future victim, the assassin knew the man did not know who he was. He could toy with the barbarian and slay him later.

“How’s it going, friend? Is it still raining out? Slight chill out there, eh?”

“Hmpf!” the man grunted.

The assassin smiled at the shortness of the exchange and asked another question. “Where you from, friend?”

The man did not respond and kept drinking.

Double D tried again. “Say, friend, where you from?”

The barbarian slammed his mug against the bar. “I have no desire to speak with a sad excuse of a man from Brandor. You’re pathetic. You’re garesh. You’re less than garesh. I’d rather spit on you.” He pushed the mug off the bar and demanded a refill.

The barbarian was large, more than a pace taller than Double D, and like most men from the north, he was strong. His long, dark hair hung to the right side of his rock jaw. The coldness of his eyes would have scared most men, but Double D was not most men.

The killer excused himself and walked to the far side of the bar to take a seat. He would wait for the big man to go out to the waste shed to relieve himself. Watching him pound one drink after another, the assassin knew it would not take long before the need would arise.

When the barbarian did stumble out and into the night, Double D followed. The assassin watched from the shadows as the barbarian opened the door to the waste shed and disappeared inside. He gave his unsuspecting victim a few moments, and then he pulled a mask out of his pack.

The mask resembled the face of a skull. It had been intricately painted and possessed a deviant appearance. The value of the mask was worth nearly 10 Yaloom. It was inlaid with gold and onyx to accent its features, but it was the magic that filled the mask that made it priceless.

As he placed the mask over his face, Double D vanished beneath a veil of invisibility. Without a sound, he walked toward the shed, opened the door and then stepped inside before he let the door close behind him with a thud.