Dark One Rising (50 page)

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. The pale blue regarded her with amusement. “Games we play, instead of good-byes? Very well, I will play, if for no other reason than to reassure you again. There is and never will be another. I love you, Melenthia, with every fiber of my being. My mind will never have even the remotest stray thought of another. I feel you deep within my soul. You are part of me now, and losing you would be like severing a limb. I can’t be with anyone else ever again. I’m yours and only yours for as long as you’ll have me.” He smiled down at her. “Was that sufficient?”

She laughed. “It’ll have to do.”

He leaned down and kissed her hard and passionately, hoping to make it linger for as long as they were apart. She responded to him, her body tender and warm under his passionate embrace. After a few minutes, he pulled away, reluctant to let go, but knowing the time had come for them to part ways. He knew that he would miss her greatly, and keeping his mind on task would be difficult. He knew that she would have trouble as well, but hopefully the memory of him, and their reunion to come, would keep her strong and help her face the evil that she would eventually face.

“Come on, Princess, I will take you to your awaiting steed.”

They went hand and hand out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the bailey. Tomaz and Sol were waiting, Melenthia’s horse saddled and ready. She would be leaving Lila behind, giving her continued rest, taking instead the bay mare that had been assigned to her while she was in residence. The mare was young and strong and would fare better on the long journey to Vallis.

Melenthia kissed Dain on the lips one more time, then he gave her a hand into the saddle. When settled, she looked over her shoulder at Sol.

“We aren’t using the Sorcerers Wood again, are we?”

“It will get us to Vallis faster,” he answered.

“And safer from those that may be watching,” Tomaz finished.

She wrinkled her nose and glanced down at Dain.

“It’ll be fine,” he said to her, petting the neck of her horse distractedly. “I have faith that your escorts will get you there safe. Their help in keeping Fallon’s men from overtaking you has strengthened my confidence. I believe they’ll protect you, and train you well.”

“Okay. Please don’t worry, my love. I’ll be back in your arms sooner than you think.”

He smiled up at her, taking her hand in his. “I know you will be. But, I’m afraid the worrying comes with loving someone. That I can’t promise you.”

Sol lead the way out of the courtyard, and Melenthia’s horse automatically started to go. Her hand slipped from his, and she continued to look over her shoulder at him as he faded from her sight behind the iron gates of the Keep. Tomaz brought up the rear and would stay there most of the trip.

Dain sighed as she disappeared down the cobbled street that led from the Keep to the road into town. He stood in the bailey for a few more minutes before he gave up and went inside. The war was only just beginning, and his only hope was that they would all survive it to see another day.

***

The army marched into town, the horses hooves
clip-clopping
on the cobbled streets, the lead horse cantering in rhythm, showing off itself and its rider in black armor. The man in the saddle sat up straight, his black eyes matching his hair and goatee, a red lined cape flung over his shoulders. The flag bearer in the middle of the entourage carried the battle standard of the Rommel House, black background with a green gryphon embroidered on the front, silver piping along the edges. The pennant waved in the light afternoon wind. The cold forced the men to wear thick leather gloves lined with fur. The men wore black and green tabards over their mail, and helms of gold and silver on their heads.

Fallon pranced into the city, staring down at the people he passed with blatant disinterest. He walked through the city without speaking to anyone, or making any demands. He had a mission, and no one would distract him from it.

Lachlan Castle had been a challenge that he was not anticipating. Even with Kevaan absent from it, the guards had been ready, the walls fortified beyond his expectation. He should have known Kevaan would be trouble. Randor’s death was gradual, but Kevaan seemed to have anticipated Fallon’s plan. Now he left him with only one choice. He would need to take down the wall on the outer border in order to allow his army coming in from the sea to gain entrance. If the wall at Ulam were destroyed, he could easily get his army into Kingswell, then march to the castle again and take it down. Next time it would be easier, and he would strike while its liege was away. Kevaan had made the mistake by leaving, now he would lose his throne because of it. The border would now belong to him with the Triple Cities fallen, and he would redraw the lines of the provinces. Once he had Aaralyn under his control, he could slip into Azlyn easier and take over King Dainard’s cities one by one. He already had Baron Malor from Ashlan in his pocket, and Lord Krondor in Bardolf was easy to convince once he had Ashlan on his side. The two cities were holding down the west side of Azlyn, unbeknownst to its king. Only Lord Ulric from Danyl was giving him trouble, but his garrison was small, and it wouldn’t be long before the giants had solidified that hold as well.

His plans were working. The giants were proving propitious in his plans. They weren’t very smart, but they were greedy, and money was an easy motivator for loyalty. He’d barely had to use his creatures from the pit, saving most of them for the later battle when he would wipe out everyone left who still opposed him.

Dainard was smart, had many spies, and had been able to keep one step ahead of him up to now. But the time was coming when even he wouldn’t be able resist the power Fallon was gaining. Dainard had only so many men to enlist into his ranks, and Fallon didn’t think when the time came, he’d have enough to win the battle. The Isamarians had been stubborn and wouldn’t join him. Next time he would threaten them, use his death army to instill fear into them, then he was sure they’d join. He was counting on the king being unable to sway them. If fear didn’t work, a silver tongue wouldn’t either.

Melenthia had hidden from him for what felt like eternity, and it angered him, but then he found her. Soon he would have her. He had gained access to her mind, taking her in her sleep, her leading him to her location without knowing she was doing so. She had awoken herself before he could lure her out into the open, proving that she was stronger than even the Dark One knew. She slipped from his mind, but she would not be able to do it again. When the time was right, he wouldn’t have to fight the guards at Drydon Keep; she would come to him. He had been watching her every night since then, not entering her mind, but keeping himself just beyond her reach. All this time, she had been holed up with that pathetic excuse for a king, weak minded and ignorant. Shortly after that he lost track of her. He tried again to get into her mind but was shielded from her. Someone had taught her how to shield herself from him, and she had succeeded. He was livid at the interference from others, and now he didn’t know where she was. He was sure her location would be revealed in time, if he were patient. There was so much to do in the meantime, so many cities to crush, and a throne to take. When her location was revealed, he would not let her escape again; he would be ready. He would own her.

His mind wandered for a minute to her curvy form and luscious lips. He anticipated the time when he would have her, and he knew she would bring him ultimate pleasure. He would enjoy filling her up with his essence and planting the seed for his offspring.

His mind flicked to the king for a minute. What if he had already taken his pleasure of her? What if he had been able to charm her with his good looks and graceful tongue? He had heard stories of the southern king, about his ability to woo woman. Ladies of the court or commoners, he had been rumored to have had many, and it didn’t matter their station. The more exotic beauties he took greater care in getting, but he never kept them long.

The confrontation he’d had with Melenthia all those months ago had made him think that she was beyond the abilities of a romantic tongue, that she had no intention of ever letting a man of nobility tame her. But maybe that was all an act. Maybe she was just waiting for the right one, or maybe, she had been playing him, and he was just the object of her scorn. His blood started to boil. No one said no to him. No one dared shun him. If that sweet talking rogue had spun his mesmerizing web on her and snared her into his bed, he would suffer greatly for it, and so would she. Taking her when she was already spoiled angered him. He wanted her pure and untouched. If she had allowed that simpleton into her bed, she would wish she had never been born. When he was done with her, she would suffer greater than anyone had ever suffered.

He calmed himself. Getting angry now and doing something stupid would only make things worse. He was better than that. He would soon show the ignorant what it meant to defy him, how much they’d suffer for trying to stand against him. His army was full; his powers were great. Soon the kingdom of Aelethia would have a new master.

The troops rode through the outskirts of town, driving the citizens into their homes to hide from them. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to focus on what he wanted. A small spark started inside a stable on the other side of town, and soon the fire would blaze and spread. It would be too hot and too large for the citizens to put out in time. The fire would burn through the stables, lapping up the hay and the wood, then spreading through the street, taking down one house after another. People would lose everything. They would be homeless and penniless, and eventually, when he was king, they would come to him for help. But he would give none. If they were not with him, they were against him.

A small smile spread across his haughty face, as he could see the spark in his mind, could see it spread. The damage would already be too immense before he even took down the border wall.

Once he had secured his position there, he would redraw the border line and would own Aaralyn. Kevaan still sat on the throne, but once he had fortified the border, usurping him from his seat would be easy. There was no way Kevaan could hold on to his kingdom once the cities surrounding Kingswell had fallen. And that would be soon.

The troops approached the walls of Ulam, where the brunt of the forces held it secure. They split ranks as soon as they were close, spreading themselves out along the perimeters. The trebuchets were wheeled and loaded, the arrowmen had their bows nocked and ready. The horsemen and footmen waited for the signal, the horses stamped and snorted, restless to go. His hell army was grunting and snorting behind him, their humped backs with razor spines and red eyes ready to unleash their fury when he commanded.

This was the day he had waited for. The famines and droughts were nothing, just playtime for him, and the slaughtering of people and burning of cities was just foreplay. The time had almost come for the gates of hell to be opened completely and the mortals to pay for their ignorance and infidelity to the rightful king.

He stopped at the front of the ranks and pulled his horned helm down to cover his face, the eye slits allowing only so much of a field of vision. He didn’t need much; he had his mind sight. He could see where the enemy was by just closing his eyes for a moment, then striking where his minds vision told him to strike. He rode back and forth across the front of the men, the giants beating their chests, the beasts roaring in anticipation. He lifted his sword and kicked his mount into a dead run, giving his troops the word.

All at once the army rushed forward, heading toward the walls. The trebuchets sprung into action, tossing the huge boulders over the heads of the footmen and horsemen, hitting the walls with a force so strong, the towers before them shook.

Inside the walls, the garrison commanders were yelling orders, the army rushing to their places to help fortify the walls, the arrowmen raining a barrage of fire down onto the oncoming troops.

Men fell on the ground and from the parapets, leaving bodies strewn at the bottom of the wall, but the army below didn’t let that slow them. They kept coming forward, climbing over if they had to to reach the men above.

Ladders came and men tried to climb them, but the army on the parapets pushed them over and struck the climbers down. The trebuchets on the ground were filled and packed with flaming boulders doused in pitch, slamming into the walls and sending shards of clay and mortar everywhere. A crack appeared in the east wall, and the men scrambled to hold it up with bracers.

The unit commander on the west wall yelled down to his lieutenant to bring out the hot oil; they rolled it out and placed it on the swing arm. When a surge of men and creatures came at them, they let it tip and burned all who fought to climb up, keeping back lots, but not enough.

A hump backed creature with red eyes and razor spines on his back reached the top and jumped off the wall, startling a younger man who was fighting off a swordsman that had also reached the top. When the young solider ran the enemy through he turned, looking into the burning eyes of his attacker. He swung his sword around, but too late. The creature opened its great maw and spit venom, blinding him. The venom burned like acid, and the man dropped his sword and wailed in agony. Another man down the wall heard his cry and approached, wanting to help his companion if he could. The creature looked up at him, screeched and jumped forward like a coiled spring let loose, biting his head, blood splattering the wall behind him.