King Of The North (Book 3) (2 page)

Eogan dipped his hand in the water, taking a palm full of the murky liquid into his mouth. Kassir, whose people had strict rules about food and drink, winced.

"That is disgusting, my friend," he remarked. Eogan smiled, taking another handful of water. Eogan's horse seemed to enjoy it, and so did Kassir's once it finally came over to join its companion.

"Water is water," Eogan said. "And besides, once we get inside, I'll kill all the germs with a few drams of whiskey."

Kassir shook his head disapprovingly. "The Lifegiver does not like his servants to defile their bodies with such things," he said. "You know this."

Eogan narrowed his eyes at his Captain, saying nothing for an uncomfortably long moment. Then, he chuckled. "If you were any other man," he said. "I would stab you in the throat."

"And I would stab you back before I choked to death," Kassir replied, smiling slyly. Eogan smiled with him, liking the man's wit.

"Come," Eogan said, changing the subject. "Let us find out where our missing men have disappeared to."

Eogan led the way up the short flight of stairs and onto the decking. The sign on the front door read,
Jax's Pub.
Kassir smirked as Eogan opened the flimsy wooden door.

No one appeared to be inside.

"It looks like Jax is out of business," Kassir joked.

Eogan scanned the main room, noting the overturned chairs and tables, the broken glasses near the bar, and the body that lie on its back near the foot of the stairs. It was dressed in Jindala armor, with a scimitar lying near it. Eogan stomped over to the area, glaring down at the dead guard. His throat had been neatly slashed.

Kassir bent down to examine the body, his face expressionless and uncaring. "He took a tumble down the stairs, I'm guessing," he said, lifting the man's leg and rolling him on his side. "His hip is broken. He was then executed as he lay here."

Eogan was uncaring as well, saying nothing. Instead, he made his way up the stairs. Kassir stayed at the foot, rummaging through the dead man's pockets.

"Kassir," Eogan called. "Come and look."

The Captain raced up the stairs to join Eogan, shocked at the carnage that lay strewn about the corridor. Two more bodies were on the floor, sliced to ribbons and lying in odd positions. Another body could be seen inside the room at the end of the hall.

"They were running," Kassir noted. "Running away from something, or chasing something. I can't tell."

Eogan examined the nearby banister, seeing scuff marks, made by a climbing glove, or something similar, that went around the circumference of the decorative sphere.  "They were chasing someone," he said. "And that someone grabbed this banister, and swung around behind them. Very clever."

"What kind of man could do that?" Kassir wondered out loud.

Eogan grinned, knowing full well that this killing spree was the work of his own father, Garret. "The Scorpion," he said. "The assassin whom I killed."

Kassir had heard the story. He was not only impressed by the legendary tales of the Scorpion, but that Eogan had killed him. The fact that Garret was stunned and unable to fight due to the trauma of killing his own Queen was inconsequential. A kill was a kill. Such were the ways of the Jindala.

Kassir leaned against the corridor wall, folding his arms across his chest. "Where could the occupants of this inn have gone?" he asked.

"That is the question," Eogan agreed. "I will retrieve my Rangers, and we will track them down. You should come as well. While the Rangers are good trackers, they do not have the deductive skills that you have, my friend. That is why you are my Captain."

Kassir smiled again. Such a compliment from the Prince was not an easy thing to come by, especially one such as Eogan. The Jindala Captain would rise through the ranks quickly. If not within the Jindala forces, then within the Prince's own army.

For Kassir, life was getting better every day.

"Tell the men to return to Faerbane," Eogan ordered him. "I will gather my Dark Rangers and meet you back here in one hour. Stay and continue your search."

"Yes, my lord," Kassir replied.

Eogan stopped to contemplate the situation. If Garret had made a stop at this inn to kill the guards, there had to be a reason why. He knew that a man such as Garret did not frequent taverns, nor kill without a reason or contract. Something here had caught his attention.

Eogan was determined to find that something, and eliminate it.

The Prophet stood before the cloud of darkness that swirled and undulated within the mirror. Wisps of dark energy crept out of the glass, stroking her cheek and regenerating her flesh. She moaned with its touch, feeling its power penetrate her body and restore her youth and vigor.

She lived for these moments; when
The Lifegiver would impart to her his healing energy in exchange for her loyalty. Because of this, she never questioned, and never doubted The Lifegiver's word. Now, as she enjoyed his dark embrace, he whispered to her in his echoing voice.

"Igraina," he said. "You honor me with your deeds. Your mind is a dark chasm. Your soul is vile and repulsive."

The Prophet smiled, turning her head to allow The Lifegiver to stroke her neck. "I live to serve you, Master," she moaned.

"You are my greatest Prophet," the darkness continued. "And the most beautiful to behold. One day, your body will belong to your King. But, your soul will be mine forever."

"I will stay with you until the end of time."

"Yes, you will,"
The Lifegiver said. "When your time here is done, I will keep you with me in the void, and you will become as I. We shall be eternal, and rule the Universe as one."

The Prophet sighed. "I look forward to it."

"Do not be hasty, Igraina. I need you here for now. My rule shall not be complete until this island is conquered."

"You need but command me," she said, "and I will make it so."

The darkness swirled faster, tracing the contour of The Prophet's body with greater enthusiasm. Two wisps of energy formed hands, and they went to her cheeks, holding her head straight at the mirror.

"Maebh is an obstacle to our plans,"
The Lifegiver said. "She must die."

The Prophet smiled widely, her teeth grinding with delight. "Who shall perform this deed?" she asked.

"You have already proven your loyalty," The Lifegiver replied. "It is up to the future King to prove himself."

"Eogan will, no doubt, bring about his own ascent to the throne."

The Lifegiver hissed his pleasure, imparting it to The Prophet. She reeled with him, gritting her teeth with the anticipation of their plan. Slowly, The Lifegiver withdrew its tendrils and faded back into the mirror. She was left alone, staring at her reflection, delighted at the image that stared back at her. Her youth had been not only maintained, but some of it restored. She looked ten years younger than she had before. Her body was more supple and pleasing, even to herself.

This time,
The Lifegiver had been generous.

Chapter Two

Erenoth looked down at Eamon as the Prince lie safe and guarded in the home of Argan's master healer. The room was open to the balcony, only separated from the outside by decorative shutters, and it was overgrown with beautiful flowering vines and fragrant hanging plants. Erenoth had sensed the pleasant air as he landed upon the balcony, and knew that his friend was in the right hands.

The priest had sensed Eamon's ascension as it happened. He immediately knew that the final Knight had been welcomed to the order, and that the Prince was now truly the Onyx Dragon. Now, as he looked upon him as the rightful lord and master of the Knights of
The Dragon, it grieved him to have to break such devastating news to the already troubled man.

As Erenoth sat down next to his friend and placed his hand gently on Eamon's forehead, an old man in white robes walked into the room carrying a tray of herbs. He was startled by Erenoth's presence, and backed away frightfully, nearly dropping his tray. Erenoth held up his hand to ease the man's fear, standing to speak to him softly.

"Fear not, friend," he said. "I am Erenoth, High Priest of Dol Drakkar. I am the Prince's servant."

The man breathed a sigh of relief, continuing to the bedside to place his tray upon the table. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I was not expecting visitors. I was just bringing more herbs to help break his fever."

"Please continue," Erenoth urged him. "I must wait until he awakens, and speak with him."

"He will be awake shortly. He was awake earlier, but still in a kind of pain I have never witnessed. I gave him some poppy oil to ease the pain. It has the tendency to put a man to sleep."

"Very well," Erenoth said. "I will return when he is awake. Do you, perhaps, know where the Knights of The Dragon may be found?"

"I believe they are with Lord Galen," the man replied. "Don't ask why, because I have no idea what goes on with the warrior types, or the nobles. By the way, my name is Fallyn."

Erenoth bowed with respect. "It is good to meet you, Fallyn," he greeted him. "Thank you for your help. And thank you for taking care of my friend. I will return."

The Knights of The Dragon sat with Galen around his feasting table. All about, servants brought food, wine, and other spirits in celebration of their victory and alliance.

Upon the table, hams, roasted turkey, and other delicious foods were piled high, all surrounded with pitchers of ale, bowls of smoking herbs, and baskets of bread. The Knights ate eagerly, forgetting all about etiquette and neatness, and drank sloppily. Even Azim, who was the most prim and proper of the group, stuffed endless amounts of food in his face, and gulped ale like a barbarian. His behavior drew smiles and chuckles from Wrothgaar, who had never witnessed his friend in such a state.

"It's just not the same without the Prince," Angen announced.

The Knights nodded, and mumbled, in agreement.

Galen swallowed a mouthful of wine, and addressed the older Knight. "Have faith in my healers, friend," he said. "Fallyn is a master at his craft. The Prince will be on his feet in no time."

"He'd better be!" Angen responded. "Or I'll punch him the face."

The Knights laughed loudly, slamming their mugs on the table. Galen grinned, taking up his goblet.

"Allow me to propose a toast," he announced. "To Prince Eamon, and our lasting alliance. May the kingdom of Eirenoch be whole again!"

"Eirenoch!" the Knights shouted in unison.

"And," Angen added, "may the ham and ale never run dry!"

The dining hall was filled with laughter once again, then all drank from their mugs. When the toast was finished, the Knights resumed their conversations.

"Brianna," Angen addressed the newest of the Knights. "Are you able to taste with your new, magical tongue?"

Brianna grinned, holding her head down in embarrassment as the others laughed. "Yes," she replied. "It works well."

"You tasted nothing at all before?" Daryth asked.

Brianna took a bite of ham, chewing it and swallowing with a smile. "Only bitterness," she replied.

As the Knights broke into rowdy laughter again, the great doors of the dining hall opened, and Erenoth stepped inside. Galen stood, unfamiliar with the priest, but accepting of his presence.

"Erenoth!" Brynn shouted. "Galen, this is Erenoth, High Priest of Dol Drakkar. Our friend and ally."

Galen bowed, and Erenoth returned the gesture.

"Pleased to meet you, Erenoth," Galen said.

"Sit down," Angen said. "Join us."

"I am afraid I have come to deliver grave news, my friends," he said with a great sadness in his eyes.

"Is it Eamon?" Galen asked.

"No, sir," Erenoth replied. "Your healer assures me he will recover. It concerns the Queen. I am afraid she is no longer with us."

Brynn stood, not believing what he was hearing. Wrothgaar and the others slowly joined him.

"What are you saying?" Brynn asked.

"The Queen was abducted from the castle a few nights ago," Erenoth explained. "She was taken to Faerbane, where she was murdered."

"Are you certain?" Galen asked, sympathetically.

Erenoth nodded gravely. "I retrieved her body myself," he said. "Maedoc awaits Eamon's return before her burial takes place. Eamon is now King."

A silence fell over the Knights. Brynn sat down, his head falling into his open hands. He was affected the most, it seemed.

"I have known her all of my life," he said. "I knew she would not be with us forever, but this is a shock."

Angen sat as well, having served Siobhan since she ascended to the throne many years ago. "She was my friend," he lamented. "And a great Queen. She will be missed."

Wrothgaar stepped toward Erenoth, his face a mask of confusion. "Who did this?" he asked.

Though Erenoth knew the truth, he was reluctant to risk the Knights losing respect for Garret. He was a great man, and should be remembered as such.

"I do not know," Erenoth lied. "But it has come to my knowledge that Garret tried to rescue her from her captors. He was killed as well. But I was not able to recover his body."

"My friends," Galen said sadly. "I have no idea what to say. I knew Siobhan well, though such a relationship was not welcome here under Maebh's rule. She was indeed a great Queen, and a wonderful person. I will grieve this loss along with you."

"Maedoc wishes all of the Knights to attend the burial," Erenoth said. "And the coronation of the new King. My priests are on their way to carry you back to Morduin. They will return you here when all of this is done."

"Erenoth," Wrothgaar interrupted, placing his hand on Brianna's shoulder. "This is Brianna, daughter of Galen and our newest Knight."

Brianna stepped forward to greet Erenoth. The priests bowed, drawing a curious look from her. "I am honored to meet you, my Lady," he said.

"And you, as well," Brianna replied.

"I will return to Eamon's bedside," Erenoth said. "When the priests arrive, we must be on our way."

With one final nod, Erenoth turned to leave, closing the double doors behind him. The Knights were left to contemplate the news, and they were all silent with grief.

"I didn't know Siobhan," Brianna said softly. "But I will grieve this loss, as well. I will grieve for Eamon, and for my brothers."

Galen gazed at his daughter proudly. He was impressed with the honor and sympathy she showed. She would make a great Knight, and he knew she would serve Eamon to the best of her abilities.

Despite this grave news, Galen was a happy man.

Eamon opened his eyes, seeing the blurry form of a dark figure standing over him. As he squinted to clear his vision, he recognized the figure and a smile spread across his weary face.

"Erenoth," he whispered. "It seems like it's been so long since I saw you last."

"It is good to see you, my friend," Erenoth replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Eamon breathed deeply, having been under the stress of odd dreams. He was silent as he thought about them, and Erenoth said nothing, knowing what the Prince was feeling. Finally, Eamon spoke the words that Erenoth was waiting for.

"I know why you're here," Eamon said. "And I thank you for sparing my Knights the truth. They would not understand."

"Garret was an honorable man," Erenoth replied. "I didn't want them to think badly of him."

"They will know the truth someday," Eamon said. "And Garret is gone, as well, then?"

"Yes," Erenoth replied. "Jodocus and Farouk witnessed him fall into the river after being attacked. I could not find his body. It is likely at sea by now."

"Who is this person who attacked him?"

"I do not know, my friend," Erenoth said, truthfully. "I cannot see. His identity is unknown even to Jodocus and Maedoc."

Eamon bit his lip, sure that there was a reason for this mystery. "I feel that this a person connected to me somehow," he said.

"That is possible."

Eamon continued to stare off into the distance, his face vacant, and his mind racing. Frustrated, he shook his head and sat up. Erenoth stood to give him room and offered his hand in aid.

"I'm fine," Eamon said. "We must return to Morduin."

"The Priests of Drakkar are on their way," Erenoth said. "No further ships have been sighted, so I believe Argan is safe for the moment. But your army must be brought here as soon as possible."

"I would think Ulrich would want to attend," Eamon suggested.

"Lord Ferrin will inform him," Erenoth explained. "If he wishes to attend, Ferrin will provide him the means to get there."

"Very well," Eamon said. "We leave immediately."

Ulrich and Ceor sat in the large tent, lounging casually on their cushions as Titus sat unmoving near the doorway. Neither of the men knew what the creature was, or where it had come from, but neither of them objected to its presence. Ulrich smoked his pipe, staring at the fascinating piece of machinery. Ceor was sharpening his axe with a whetstone.

"Where do you suppose it came from?" Ulrich asked.

Ceor looked at the machine, contemplating the question for a moment, then shook his head. "I have no idea, Jarl," he said. "Perhaps the Valkyries crafted it at their forge."

Ulrich considered the theory. "It is nice and shiny," he said. "I would definitely consider that possibility."

"Or," Ceor continued, "maybe one of the gods had it as a pet and it got loose."

Ulrich chuckled, taking a long draw from his pipe and handing it to Ceor. "Perhaps."

Ceor raised his hand, refusing the pipe. "I've had enough," he said. "I can barely bring my eyes to focus on these two axes here."

Ulrich laughed, leaning back into his cushion.

"Lord Ulrich," a voice said from outside the flap.

"Enter," Ulrich responded, standing.

A richly dressed man in black and purple velvet entered. He was well groomed, youthful despite his apparent age, and armed with a jeweled dagger at his side.

"Greetings Lord Ulrich," he said. "I am Ferrin, Governor of Faillaigh. I am here to deliver a message from Lord Erenoth."

"Erenoth?" Ulrich repeated. "Go ahead."

"Yes," Ferrin continued. "I am afraid Erenoth has informed me that Queen Siobhan has been killed in this conflict."

Ulrich brow furrowed, his face immediately darkening. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"I am merely relaying the message," Ferrin explained. "But I see no reason why Erenoth would lie."

Ulrich nodded, lowering his head in grief.

"If you wish to attend her burial," Ferrin said. "I will be happy to accommodate you with transportation. But we must leave immediately."

"Where is Erenoth now?" Ulrich asked.

"He is in Argan," Ferrin replied. "He and his priests will retrieve Eamon and his Knights and fly them to Morduin. It will not take them long to get there, which is why we must leave. I am afraid my horses are incapable of flight."

"I see," Ulrich said. "Very well. Please allow me a moment to confer with my Captain, Ceor the Mighty."

Ceor stood, reaching out to grasp Ferrin's hand. Strangely, the nobleman did not seem shocked or reluctant to accept the handshake.

"Very pleased to meet you, Ceor," he said, pleasantly. Ceor nodded uncomfortably, not used to being treated with respect by nobles.

"I will be waiting at the north gates of Gaellos," Ferrin said. "I will not be going with you, as I have business here in Gaellos."

"Very well," Ulrich said. "I will meet you there shortly."

Ferrin nodded, exiting the tent. He passed Adder on his way out, and nodded ever so slightly in greeting. Adder did not return the gesture, as were the rules.

"Ceor," Ulrich said. "Siobhan was my friend. I must go. I leave you in command. I trust you will not let the men stray."

"You have my word, Jarl," Ceor said. "And safe travels to you."