Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) (23 page)

"Piss off with your glorious illusions of the arena. I've won and waged war in that bloody place." He lowered his voice and craned his head around. "Fucking nobles and their desire for entertainment. If I don't see another arena fight I'll be a happy man. What I'd love is an expedition to Naverstrom...where real evil lurks. But what do I know...I'm just a simple knight who's drank too much wine, fucked too many women, and battled in too many wars for my own good."

They reached the end of the corridor and turned to find an ornately carved door with gold leaf running along the edges. "You'll find the Bishop inside." The knight stretched out his hand and gripped Tael's in a firm handshake. "Name's Kealian. Keep your head down, young Geldrin."

Tael studied the knight's swagger as he marched off, and he chuckled to himself, admiring Kealian's brutal candor. That was one soldier he wouldn't mind fighting side-by-side with in battle. His figure radiated quiet confidence and brutality.

In the sudden stillness of the richly adorned hallway Tael took a deep breath to compose himself, and rapped on the door. Light flooded the way as the door swung open, and an ancient crone scowled at him with vast displeasure in her crinkled eyes.
 

"What do you want, young supplicant?" She squinted at his displayed card, then opened the door wider and swung a skeletal arm around, inviting him to enter. The light inside was so bright it was painful to the eyes. When Tael scanned the room for the source of the light, he found no torches or lamps or fires, and concluded the light magical in origin.
 

"Your name?" The crone's voice was watery and as croaky as a toad's.
 

Tael gave her the name of his alias and with a disbelieving expression, the old woman strode with insect-like steps into the next room—a vast chamber of gold and silver threaded wall covering—and bowed abruptly to Bishop Draven, who sat pompously on a plump sofa, wearing the gold, silk, and silver robes of a powerful Bishop.

"Young supplicant Geldrin calling on you, Your Excellency." The crone swiveled around and soon departed the room with her heels clicking against the shiny, hardwood floors.

The Bishop grinned at Tael's robes and motioned for him to sit at a chair opposite him. "Impressive that you managed to survive the Festival's madness, and walk in here with actual Supplicant's Robes, apparently unmolested by the knights. They usually at least rough up unknown, unintroduced visitors to my steps. You don't even bear a bruise..."

"I guess I was fortunate, then." Tael gave Draven a conniving grin as the Bishop poured him a glass of wine.

"Don't feel too cocky. Likely the moment you step foot inside the Order they'll beat you to a pulp as part of your initiation rites. They go much harder on the stronger supplicants, regardless how much you
think
they respect you. You're just another unproven piece of pork to them."

"I've taken brutal beatings before." Tael grimaced at the memory of his recent assault, and could still feel the scars on his chest and arms. "Most recently several nights ago at the Wintertide Festival."

The Bishop raised an eyebrow at that. "So that's why you never returned that night? I thought you'd shacked up with some young plaything. Or worse yet, gotten yourself married. But alas there's hope for the world, you've come to me in perfect accordance with my request. Very promising, I must say..."

"I've survived, Your Excellency, and paid a visit as asked. And I thank you for keeping my possessions safe."

"Everything is all in order. Now tell me, young supplicant Geldrin, do you really aspire to join the Order?"

Tael felt his inspecting eyes on him as he prepared to speak. "I talked to a knight of the Order, Kealian, and he shared some words on the foolishness of the grand arena. That sobered me up and made me realize there is more to this world than just games and contests. There's a real struggle going on in the wider forces of the world. The ghoul in Perinith showed me that. That was a real display of evil, the evil in the heart of darkness, the lair of Naverstrom. Kealian told me that the one place he dreamed of waging battle was in there, deep in Naverstrom. And when he spoke the words, I couldn't help but feel the same way."

Bishop Draven tilted his head and pursed his lips, chewing on his words for a few moments. "I am Bishop in the north...in the lands surrounding the mouth of Naverstrom. But I have to tell you, lad, I've no desire to face that kind of evil. What you did that night, in facing and fighting off the ghoul with that
sword
of yours, that was a bravery and folly like I've never seen before. And I can respect that, truly respect the strength I saw in you that night."

He rolled around his head as if tossing an unpleasant situation over in his mind. "However, that doesn't change the facts of certain realities in this world, in this Kingdom. We have the King and King Braxion has banned all quests to Naverstrom. So of course the Church and the Order obeys the King and respects his wishes. The arena is a poor substitute. Waging war against the Malathians is also a poor substitute, but at least it humors the troops in the illusion of fighting a meaningful war. Perhaps one day you might understand."

Tael shrugged, and offered up his palms to the Bishop. "These are simple hands...the hands of someone used to hard work, the hands that expect little and receive much, the hands that are capable of killing and loving at the same time. How would you have me guide these hands in service of the gods?"

"That's a hard question for me to answer. I will say that the gods are legion, and not all are worthy of serving. And even this choice is a personal one for you to make. I would advise you to spend time considering carefully before you choose. You may not like this kind of answer, but it's all I can give."

"You gave an honest answer, and I appreciate it."

"Still doesn't solve the situation you are in. Do you choose to join the Order, and follow in the well-ordained path of a holy knight? Or do you fight in the arena and prove your skills in a frenzied bloodlust? However, there is a third option—you could come and work directly for me. Not as a priest, not as a knight, but as an assistant, working on important projects and quests as I deem fit. And you won't ever have to worry about interference from the others in the Church. They leave me alone as an oddity with a powerful family. You see, Duke Selby is my brother and rules the northern lands for the King. One could say that my brother has a keen appetite for power. And in finding you, I couldn't help but see power in you and of course, in that mysterious sword of yours."

The Bishop waved a placating hand at Tael. "Don't get all ruffled up. The sword is safe and I will return it to you tonight. My recommendation is for someone like you, in your...shall we say,
untenable
position, to forge an alliance with a powerful family and enjoy the extremely beneficial results of that decision. For you"—he cleared his throat and gulped down the rest of his wine—"and for your grandfather... Master Greyth Shalinor."
 

Chapter Twenty-Four

AS SEBINE FOLLOWED Master Vhelan down the secret tunnel from the King's Chambers, she had a hard time believing the Hakkadian would or even could cast a curse on her that might prevent the casting of spells. The sorcerer was plotting something against the King, and whatever it was, Sebine was a part of it. But her master refused to respond to any of her attempts at conversation as they walked along the dark and dusty corridor. But her feeling of certainty regarding a plot grew stronger each step she took.

At last they reach the bottom of the tunnel, and exited out through a panel that led into the main Hakkadian lair. The most surprising discovery was to find it empty inside, as every other time she'd visited in the past she found it quite filled with Hakkadians.
 

"Our fellow members have been dispatched on their various missions throughout the city." The way Master Vhelan said the words implied a vast exercise of violence and chaos and disruption. "We've been planning this now for years, after establishing key allies in all the royal families, and bribing members of the wealthy artisans and merchants. Needless to say the tide will turn in Trikar tonight, with little left of the old Kingdom. The people loathe the King and will rejoice in the streets upon hearing word of his demise. Even shadows of the dragons shall fall over her streets and cathedrals, with the flames of the ancient creatures releasing their many-years long bent up rage. Do you join us, tonight, in slaying the King? Or do you choose to die, without whimper, without noise?"

Sebine found herself stunned in disbelief at his words, unable to imagine the city soon raging in violence. And what about the wizards of the Arcanum? Certainly they would join up and defend the Kingdom? Or would they flee to safety, leaving the King and his Kingdom to crumble under the weight of its guilt and sin. Why did they want her for this struggle, anyway? It seemed like they had everything meticulously planned out.
 

As if reading her musings, the sorcerer pointed at the Ring of Galdora. "Only with this ancient artifact can a practitioner of the arts hope to land a spell on the King. We are powerless without this blessing. And only with the wielder can the spell be cast, and only with one special spell can the Ring of Galdora help land. A spell I will teach you, if your answer is yes."

Did she have a choice? She was bound to the Hakkadians by a blood oath, and if this was a battle, it was a battle she didn't mind avoiding with the Hakkadians. She would fight them another day, find another way, and live with the experience to strengthen her.
 

"I accept, Master Vhelan, and choose to join you tonight. The King will not survive the night."

The sorcerer scratched his chin in appreciation of her words, but still shook his head in some secret knowing. "You make a vow to join us...but don't be so bold in believing that you alone can slay the King. The spell I will teach you is the stunning spell, a simple spell, really, but in the right hands and with the right team, effective. It won't last more than a few seconds...we're not actually certain of how long it will last on the King, especially considering his
composition
."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't advise dwelling on it... I've no time to explain the history of the King." Master Vhelan showed her the sequence of movements her fingers needed to follow in order to cast the spell, and the words to chant to deliver the stunning magic. "Now practice on me...don't look worried, the spell won't hurt me. It will merely stun me for a few seconds. Go ahead."

So Sebine obeyed and flourished her fingers and spoke the words at Master Vhelan. Soon a shimmering appeared around the sorcerer's head and with dizzy eyes, the man appeared mesmerized for a count of over ten seconds. Shaking his head, Master Vhelan focused his eyes on Sebine.

"How long did the stunning spell last?"

"Over ten seconds at my count. Did I do something wrong?"

Master Vhelan shrugged and seemed surprised by her answer. "Over ten seconds? That's more than three times the length of the other sorcerers who've practiced the same spell on me. If true, we might have a real chance of killing the King, with magic as the means to enable a fighter to slay him with a special sword."

"And you have such a fighter who is capable of killing the King in such a short period of time, unnoticed?"

"Of course we do, otherwise we would have never begun executing our plan tonight. And we have it on good word that his ancient sword, a ghoulsbane, will be returned to him tonight by a certain Bishop allied with our cause."

What? Was he talking about Tael? How could the Hakkadians known who he was? Then it hit her: they had spies everywhere and had followed her to the festival where she met him. They knew who he was and had him tracked down. Or maybe they'd been following him all along after he met and impressed the Bishop. This had all been one huge setup from the start.

"Your young friend Tael Shalinor loves you, and would do anything for you. And besides, he despises the King for killing his parents. The real question is whether his grandfather will succeed in rousing the wizards of the Arcanum to action. We doubt it. Likely he'll continue his wanderings far and wide, in search of potions and relics to aid him."

The sorcerer aimed a finger at the earth. "From what we've discovered in Naverstrom, perhaps the only weapon powerful enough to slay King Braxion—spawn of the Witch Koroshen—is that sword in your friend's possession. And with his slaying the Witch will return to the land—enraged—and seek vengeance. Only thus can we draw her out of her lair."

Sebine's puzzled face caused Master Vhelan to sooth her with a waving of his hand. "This is a many ages story, of the dark elves and the Princes of Naverstrom, and of the ancient Kings and high elves who fought them. We Hakkadians are just travelers, storytellers, and seekers of balance, and were long ago caught in a web found deep in the caves of Naverstrom. Soon we aim to free ourselves from the clutches that have bound us for over two hundred years. Though some of the younger of our kind still living in the caves have been seduced by the promise of power that the Princes of Naverstrom offer."