King Of The North (Book 3) (4 page)

"Helgen!" he cursed. "I'm talkin' to ye!"

Helgen turned. But Bain's mouth dropped open at what he saw. The rancher's face was half gone, only the eyes and the top half of his nose remaining. The rest was a bloody, oozing void of flesh. What was left of Helgen groaned and lunged at Bain.

The hunter backed away, jabbing his halberd into Helgen's body. The rancher staggered back, but kept coming. Geoffrey drew his sword, dismounting his horse quickly and rushing to aid his partner.

"Geoffrey!" Bain called. "What the hell is this thing?"

Helgen lunged again, this time swatting his arms in an attempt to get to the hunter. Bain thrust one more time, the halberd pushing through Helgen's body. As Bain fell forward screaming, the rancher pulled himself along the shaft of the halberd, grasping Bain's face with his claws. Geoffrey stepped forward, blindly slashing backhanded at the creature's neck. He felt the impact of his sword hitting flesh and opened his eyes. The rancher's head fell to the ground and his body slowly slumped and followed.

Bain lay near him, grasping his face in agony. Geoffrey rushed to his side, kneeling to see the wound and stop the bleeding. The scratches were horrendous, and Bain was losing a lot of blood. Geoffrey rushed back to his horse in a panic, grabbing the cloak that he had left on the saddle. He wadded it up and pressed it against Bain's wounds. The man still screamed as the filth of the ranchers claws began to seep into the wounds. It burned and tortured him.

"What's happening!" Geoffrey yelled. "What do I do?"

Bain thrashed and screamed, seemingly in the most terrible agony one could feel. Geoffrey stepped back, horrified. Bain's thrashing became worse as he twisted and pounded the dirt with his fists.

Then, the thrashing stopped.

"Bain?" Geoffrey said softly. "Are you alright?"

Bain lie still. Geoffrey feared the worst. His partner was dead, killed by some strange beast with no face. He shook his head in disbelief, approaching the body to make sure he was really dead. He crouched next to Bain, rolling the man over to face upward. Bain's eyes were open, but were solid white.

"Gods!" Geoffrey exclaimed, pulling his hand back. He stood slowly, backing away to return to his horse. As he kept watch, he saw Bain begin to rise, his eyes burning with rage, his skin simmering in the sun. His flesh began to boil away as he stood, falling off in glops that splattered on the ground. Geoffrey, horrified and panicked, turned to mount his horse and flee. He was greeted by the sight of a giant. A black armored giant that stood before him like a pillar of darkness in the sunlight.

The last thing he thought before his head was ripped from his body was Aeli's bag of worms.

Chapter Four

Eogan and his Dark Rangers had followed the trail from Jax's Pub for over a day. The tracks that were carelessly left on the forest floor were fairly easy to follow, as they ran in a straight line and never strayed from their course (with the exception of frequent "breaks" by the same individual.)  This told Eogan that whoever had left the tracks, had fled in a hurry. Kassir suggested that these were the owners of the tavern, and they had fled under the advice of the assassin.

Earlier, the company had discovered the nearby guard post, and the carnage that Garret had left there. Every single guard had been assassinated, and the leader, a Sultan whose body Kassir did not recognize, lay dead in his tent. His head had been smashed in by a heavy vase that Eogan guessed had been hurled at him.

Why the Sultan had been killed this way was the nagging question in both Eogan and Kassir's minds. Such a crude and uncivilized manner of killing was not befitting to a professional assassin. It was the work of an amateur, or a desperate, possibly female,  prisoner. This discovery only served to hasten their search for their prey.

Perhaps Garret had come here to rescue a prisoner, and had taken them back to the pub. There, he would have instructed them to flee, and continued his own quest, parting ways with them forever. Who was this prisoner? And why were they so important that Garret had turned away from his mission to rescue them?

Against the advice of his men, Eogan had to know.

As the company reached the forest's edge and looked out over the plains, the Rangers themselves saw that the tracks turned to the north.

"Gaellos," Eogan said. "They fled to Gaellos."

Kassir nodded, but did not seem discouraged. "They have not been on the road for long," he said. "They are likely still on the prairies. They would be easy to spot."

"There are mountains just to the south of town," Eogan reminded him. "They could hide there, whoever they are. But we will find them."

"I would advise against approaching Gaellos, my Lord," Kassir cautioned. "The army that was dispatched to retake the city was obliterated."

Eogan smiled thinly. "Yes. That was the plan."

"I do not understand."

"Even a small victory gives the enemy a false sense of security," Eogan explained. "That is why I sent Sultan Amir and his troops. As a military leader, he is useless. Or was, rather. His men were equally useless, other than for fodder."

Kassir grinned, nodding in agreement.

Eogan turned to his men. "We push on," he told them. "We will find these tavern folk and put them to the sword."

"Eogan," Kassir interrupted him, pointing to the west. The Prince turned to find what Kassir had noticed. His eyes narrowed as he saw the small group of dark-cloaked figures in the distance, just to the north of Faillaigh.

"Who are they?" Eogan asked.

"There's only one way to find out."

Eogan turned to his men, singling out his Ranger Captain. "Captain," he addressed him. "Scout ahead and find out who these men are."

The Captain nodded, signaling his men to follow. Eogan caught his attention as he passed. "Do not attack," he said. "Report back to me first. Understand, Falgrin?"

The Captain said nothing as he passed. Eogan turned to Kassir, who eyed the traitor suspiciously. "Come," he said. "We will continue to the clearing. The trophies await."

Adder and Jhayla found the ambush site exactly as described. Dozens of Rangers hung from the trees above, and Kuros' company lie dead below them, Kuros himself beheaded.

Though he had never met Kuros, Adder knew that the Ranger had faithfully served the throne of the north since he was a young man. Adder knelt next the man's body, hanging his head in respect.

Jhayla joined him, grimacing at the sight of the Ranger's headless corpse. "Such a waste," she said. "I find it hard to believe that so many skilled men were so easily ambushed. Kuros was the best, I hear."

"He was," Adder replied. "The Rangers recruited all of our best."

"What do you mean?"

"Where do you think most of the Rangers learned their skills?"

"Really?" Jhayla exclaimed. "I had no idea."

Adder stood, looking around at the other bodies that lay strewn about. "My friend Daryth," he said, "was under Kuros' command. He and I trained together in the gangs before Kuros found him and took him in."

"And what about you?"

"I didn't need taken in," Adder smiled. "My father was the Governor of Faillaigh."

Jhayla grinned. "What does this Daryth look like?"

"He is not here," Adder replied. "He is a Knight of
The Dragon now. He will be with the Onyx Dragon and his new brothers."

Another thief approached, an odd look of confusion on his face. "Adder," he said. "There is something you should see."

Adder followed the thief to where a smaller group had congregated around the body of a Ranger they had cut down from the trees. His cloak had been removed, and his body appeared to be that of an older man.

"What is it?" Adder asked.

"This is not a Ranger," a young thief said. "This is a commoner."

"And this is one you cut down?"

The thief nodded. "One of them," he replied. "We cut down a few more. They are all the same. Some of them old men, children, women. None of them Rangers."

Adder pursed his lips, the answer slowly working its way into his mind despite his attempts to disbelieve it. "Falgrin and his company are responsible for this," he said flatly.

Jhayla, confused, put her hand on his shoulder. "Why would the Rangers of the North turn against their own?" she asked.

"For the same reason the Jindala would turn against
The Lifegiver," Adder explained. "They were offered a more attractive deal."

"Every man has his price," the younger thief said.

Sadly, the young man was right, Adder thought. His own father had turned against his Queen for a more attractive deal. However, the deal was a matter of morality and conscience. Ferrin was not a villain, and had always been a friend of the people. Queen Maebh had turned against her own subjects, and allowed the Jindala to occupy the south. Ferrin's loyalty, and indeed that of the Thieves' Guild as a whole, was now to Prince Eamon.

"Correction," Adder said. "Every scum has his price."

"Adder!" a voice whispered from behind. The group turned to see a small group of peers running toward them. "What is it?" Adder asked.

"Rangers sighted along the tree line," the scout said. "Just to the north."

"Are they heading this way?"

"No. They appear to be watching a group of men heading toward Faillaigh. Monks, it looks like."

Adder grimaced. "Monks? From where?"

"I don't know," the scout shrugged. "They look like monks. What should we do?"

"We will follow the Rangers," Adder said. "If they are Falgrin and his company of traitors, we kill them." He turned to Jhayla. "Feel like a fight?"

Jhayla drew her blades with a smile. "Always."

Adder chuckled. "That's my girl."

Falgrin's men crept along the tree line, keeping the robed figures in their sight. No one in the company had ever seen any groups in the area with this particular style of dress. They stood out from the usual travelers that the Rangers followed or attacked under Eogan's command, and their presence was a mystery.

Falgrin's Lieutenant crept up beside him, his bow drawn and awaiting the order to attack.

"Calm yourself," Falgrin commanded. "Put your bow away. Eogan commanded us to observe and report back."

"To Hell with the bastard Prince and his Jindala scum," the Lieutenant hissed. "I've held my hand for long enough under the command of the Queen."

"The Queen is dead," Falgrin reminded him. "We kill for the future King now."

The Lieutenant held his tongue, no more pleased to be a dark Ranger than he was being a Ranger of the North. His desire to kill was too strong to obey orders, especially those that prevented him from indulging his lust for blood. For now, he simply stared hungrily at the strange group of men in his sights, hoping for the chance to lay them to waste.

"Cyrill," Falgrin whispered. "Get that look off your face. We are Rangers. We do not charge into battle. If that is what you want, then shed your cloak and join the infantry."

"We are not Rangers," Cyrill said. "We stopped being Rangers when we killed our own men. We are hunters. We should be hunting."

Falgrin clapped the man on the back, shaking his head with impatience. "Soon enough, my friend," he said. "Soon enough." He signaled the men to move forward.

The cloaked figures continued on their northwest path, seemingly unaware that they were being tracked. That was no surprise. Falgrin's Rangers, after turning, had proved to be deadly and effective, even to the point of ambushing Kuros and his men.

Falgrin chuckled as he remembered Eogan sawing the old Ranger's head off with his own knife. Even the silent prayer that Kuros muttered before his death was amusing and pathetic.

A sudden movement to his left caught Falgrin's attention, interrupting his train of thought. He turned, as did the rest of his men. After a few seconds, a squirrel bounded through the brush and disappeared up a nearby tree. Falgrin chuckled again, amused at himself for being startled by such a harmless animal.

His smile was cut short, however, by the sight of a twin set of blades slicing at his neck. He choked and gasped as his throat was laid open. Around him, his men suffered similar fates, all of them collapsing into the underbrush. In a matter of seconds, the entire company had been slain.

Falgrin managed to roll over onto his back, struggling to get a breath as his blood clogged his throat. As he lay dying, a young woman came into his view. She looked down at him, smirking as he drew his last breath and faded into blackness.

Jhayla smiled as she watched the dark Ranger die. Adder chuckled with his own amusement, impressed with his band of thieves. Within a few seconds, his troop had managed to slay an entire company of Rangers without making a sound.

"That was fun," Jhayla remarked, wiping her blades clean on the Ranger Captain's cloak.

"Aye," Adder agreed. "We should follow the other two." He pointed off in the distance, noting the hurried pace that the two men, one of them a Jindala, had taken. They appeared to be after something. "They look like they're in a hurry."

Jhayla nodded. "Alright, I'm game."

"Boys?"

The troop nodded and grunted their agreement.

"Good, let's hunt some more."

Khalid and his priests pulled back their hoods as they approached the decimated ranch. Though there were no signs of the massive horde that they were following, something had indeed happened here. The livestock had been slain in gruesome fashion, the farm hands skinned alive, and there was no sign of the horses that were known to be raised here.

"Helgen bred large work horses," Dael said. "They were used by the cavalry for their massive size and great strength. Too much for a normal man to handle."

Khalid scowled, scanning the area for hoof prints. "This is not good," he said. "The Enkhatar could handle them. They could alter them as well, to suit their needs. I'm guessing they are who attacked this ranch."

"There are some footprints from the horde here," one of the other priests noted. "But not many. They must have spread out when the Enkhatar abandoned them."

"We must find them, brothers," Khalid said. "They must be destroyed before they spread their disease. Eirenoch will not survive if they multiply."

"They will put the entire world in danger," Dael remarked. "What was The Lifegiver's plan? What good is it to rule a world of the undead?"

"The Lifegiver is negativity," Khalid replied. "And so are the undead. I imagine that the life forms in his world are similar in nature to the creatures he creates here."

Dael placed his hand over his heart, feeling the vibrations of his armor, and the life that it carried. With such power at the priests' disposal, they would be effective in battling the undead. The symbols that were carved into the armor's surface were wards and sigils designed to dispel negative energies. Their weapons carried the same magic, and could harm creatures that normal weapons could not.

Khalid saw Dael's concern, and put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Brother," he said. "We must fear not. The Dragon's power is great. Much greater than that of these creatures we seek."

"I am not afraid, Khalid," Dael replied, holding his head high. "I am concerned about the people. I fear for
them
. Even when we finally do destroy the undead, how many people will suffer their curse? I fear we will face the undead bodies of our own people...our brothers, perhaps. It sickens me."

Khalid nodded in understanding, motioning for the rest of the priests to gather around. "This may be so," he said. "But we must not hesitate to end their suffering. If you love your people, then you will take that suffering away. Think of it that way."