The Black Sword Trilogy: The Four Nations (33 page)

             
“That’s almost the entire fleet.” She answered.

Kenner looked back over at the Morgrils and thought carefully before asking his next question.

              “Assuming we left now and walked at a steady pace, how long before we get to your temple?”

             
“We can’t leave now, sir.” The Morgril answered.

             
“Why not?”

             
“You’re still in the boat, sir.”

Kenner sighed, closed his eyes and then lowered his head.

              “Fine!” He called to them.  “You win.  We’ll go.”

             
“Are you Kenner, sir?”

             
“Yes, for crying out loud, I’m Kenner!”

Chapter Thirty Eight

             
Krall surveyed the battlefield with a pleasure he’d never before known in all his years of fighting.  The carcasses of both Wolfen and Silther were strewn across the plain and the ground was red with blood.  Soldiers navigated through the bodies spread over the field looking for any surviving creatures only to end their lives with a final strike either from a spear or a sword.  The Silther still tried to fight, despite horrible injuries.  The Wolfen whimpered and howled in agony before finally being struck down.

             
Generals Font and Sebring had pursued the enemy all the way from the Northern Wall and pushed them to the plain.  There they were met by Krall’s army, surrounded and massacred.  Only a few Walechian men lost their lives.  It was easily the most decisive victory in the war.

             
General Krypt wasn’t so sure about this victory, though.  Something didn’t seem right.  Even though it was a large enemy force, it seemed too easy.  The enemy forces hadn’t tried to evade the Walechian forces.  They hadn’t tried to move through the hills for cover or tried to cross the Serpent River.  Neither had they tried to turn around to try and escape the Walechian pursuit.  It seemed as they had simply marched straight into the slaughter likes cattle being driven.  It seemed to him that they knew they were going to their doom and went anyway.

             
He was also disturbed by General Krall.  This didn’t seem like the same man he had known before.  He seemed angrier and more hostile.  He seemed to have enjoyed this battle in ways that Krypt had never seen before.  Never before had the great General seemed to have enjoyed killing.

             
Standing on a rise overlooking the battlefield, Krypt noticed an expression in Krall’s eyes that looked like wild lust.  After previous battles, he sometimes looked sad or tired.  This time, he looked as if he had just been entertained.  He also noticed that the Silver Axe appeared to be softly glowing.

             
“This was a great victory.” Krypt told Krall.

With the look in his eyes of some
one who had just finished a satisfying meal, Krall nodded.

             
“Yes, it was.” He said proudly.  He then turned and Krypt saw a wild and hungry expression that didn’t seem quite natural.  “And it’s only the first of many.”

             
“Is it still your intention to move into the pass?”

             
“Yes it is.  We will move into Masallah and join with Terri and Kenner.  We will then enlist the aid of the Masallan King and this war will be over by the winter solstice.”

             
“How do you know their King will join us?”

             
“Because he will have no choice.”

             
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

Krall then turned and gave Krypt a cold and angry gaze.  It softened a little, but Krypt was still unsettled by it.

              “Krypt,” he said in an icy tone.  “I respect you above all my Generals. I think of you like a brother.”

             
“I appreciate that sir.” Krypt said carefully.

             
“But,” Krall added with an added harshness.  “Do not question my orders or my plans.”

The two stared at each other for a moment.  Krypt tried to hide any misgivings he had, but he couldn’
t help but think that this was not the same Krall he’d known before.  Something was very wrong.  He bowed slightly.

             
“As you wish sir.” He said simply.

              Another prisoner was brought before Firth; another traitor, he thought.  Her name was Belal and she had once been the mistress of Edum and a high ranking member of the ‘Shoes’ faction.  She too had conspired against Admiral Janna; Firth was sure of it.  Like Edum and a dozen others who had been rooted out, she would need no trial; only to be committed to the unforgiving depths.

             
She was dragged in on her back and then turned over to face judgment.  Her dress had been torn to shreds, deep bruises covered her body and her face appeared to have been beaten.  With one eye barely able to open and the other swollen shut, she looked up desperately at Firth.

             
“Guilty!” He pronounced.

The woman then looked as if all hope had been taken from her.  The crowd in the courthouse cheered lustily and she was then dragged away.  Firth then looked at the list of names of thos
e who had been arrested and awaiting trial.  His mother’s name was still not on it.

             
“Have you not found her yet?” He demanded of the soldier standing next to him.

             
“We’re still searching My Lord.”

He tightened his grip around the Golden Spear which began
to glow a little brighter.

             
“I want her found.” He said hatefully.  “I want every house and every building torn apart until she is found.”

             
“Yes, My Lord.”

             
“And I want her alive.  I want her to face justice like the rest of them.”

             
“It will be done, My Lord.”

              In his private quarters in the palace carved into the very rock of the mountain of Glahm, King Kryam, lord and master of Masallah stared out a large open window.  From here, he had a panoramic view of virtually his entire kingdom.  The Holy City with its labyrinths of offices, residents for his advisors and counselors, temples and gardens and the small, but ornately decorated houses of his wives and concubines were just below his view.  Below that, he could see the city of Merz beyond the Golden Gate and then stretching out for endless miles were the sloping foothills of the Blue Mountains.  Some of the plantations, terraced farms and estates of his Lords were visible, and beyond that stretched out a vast plain.  On a clear day, he could even see the swamps and forests of the Tree of Life.

             
Today, he surveyed his kingdom knowing that destiny had called him to the throne at a terrible time.

             
“Is it true?” He asked in his deep, booming voice.

             
“I’m afraid it is, Your Holiness.” An advisor lying prostrate behind him said.  “The city of Lahkhert has been destroyed.  Its people have been slaughtered and its houses and dock have all been burned to ash.”

             
Her peered out towards the direction his port city once was; almost as if he wanted to see the smoke rising.

             
“And what of these fifty Walechian ships coming up my river?” He asked the advisor.

             
“They were last reported to be in the Morgril lands in the deepest branches of the mighty Tree.”

             
The King leaned his head back and took breath of the still cold and dry air of the mountains.

             
“There is snow coming from the west.” He said.  “It will cover the mountain, but not travel to the plain.”

All of the advisors and counselors in the room softly chanted “It is so.”

              “It is a sign coming from the Great Mother herself.”

             
“It is so.”

             
“Soon the armies of Walechia will come through the pass that I, in a gesture of peace have removed my armies from.  All of their forces will come forth and march upon our lands and our people.”

             
“It is so.”

             
“But the snow does not cover the foothills or the plain.  Great Masallah will be threatened but not defeated.”

             
“It is so,” they said again with more energy.

He turned away from the window and faced his court.

              “The time has come.” He commanded.

             
Followed by a procession of Lords, Ladies, priests and his highest generals, Kryam proceeded down the ancient stone steps into the original mine from which his palace had first been carved.  For two days and without resting, they marched deep into the bowels of the mountain until reaching a small cave.  There, only the King could enter.

             
It was dark, except for dim light coming from the procession behind him.  On a stone altar in the center and covered in centuries of dust it laid there, the Stone Hammer.  While the other Great Weapons had been taken away by the dictator Faraday, the true sons of the Great Mother had hidden away this weapon in the knowledge that someday it would be needed again.  Lifting it from the altar, he noticed an almost imperceptible humming sound coming from the head of the Hammer.  He closed his hand tighter around the shaft and it felt to him as if it were waking from a deep and long sleep.  Its life force began to course through him and the humming grew louder.  The centuries of dust fell away and the head then began to glow a brilliant gold.  The time had come for the Stone Hammer to return to the world of women and men and for the mighty King of Masallah to bring the peace and justice of his kingdom to all the world.

Chapter Thirty Nine

             
Kenner and Terri followed the small group of Morgrils through a narrow path through the dense forest.  They stayed behind the three that seemed to be the leaders of the group and weren’t worried about the seven others behind them as Shela was bringing up the rear.  All the while, Kenner could swear he could hear Shela whispering to him as he thought she had been doing back at the palace of Sheyron.  He had dismissed it afterwards as he simply thought he had to be have been drunk.  But now, he was hearing it again.

             
She was whispering, what sounded like threats or challenges to the Morgrils in front of her.  “Try something,” He thought he heard.  “I dare you.  Try something.”

             
They walked along the path for approximately an hour before the forest suddenly cleared to a breathtaking sight.  An immense structure, looking almost like the Temple of the Lady in Kallesh seemed to come right out of the forest.  It looked older and ancient with cracked and faded stone pillars and a massive dome.

             
Suddenly, Kenner remembered where he’d seen this sight before.  This was the temple in the forest from his dream.  Just as he’d seen in his vision, Terri was next to him and so was Shela.  There were armed Morgril soldiers on both sides of a soft, red clay road leading to the steps of the temple.  Kenner could somehow sense that both Terri and Shela were uncomfortable with the soldiers, but he also knew from his dream that there was no cause for concern.

             
“It’s alright,” He told Terri who had taken the Bow off of her shoulders.  “They don’t mean us any harm.”

             
“How do you know that?”

             
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.
              “Would like to know what happened after the last man who told me to trust him?”

             
“Not right now,” Kenner said as now led the way to the temple before him.

             
Everything was just like in his dream; the sights, the rich, vibrant colors, the soldiers and the stone steps leading to the temple doors; which appeared to be made of Blackwood.  The doors opened wide and he was astonished by what waited him inside. 

             
He could tell upon entering that, at least half of the temple was built into the ground, making it appear to be larger on the inside than the outside.  The walls appeared to be shaped like the inside of an egg and the tiled floor he remembered was even more colorful; the image of the paintings more vibrant.