《Dark Days in Sion》


 Chapter 1

    Torrential rains and violent, gusting winds frothed up a mighty storm along the coastline of the large island kingdom of Chival. Maneuvering a ship close to shore in these conditions, with no moon to see by, was quite treacherous. And yet, after centuries of raids, Morg raiders were intimately familiar with every reef and cove.


    Built stout and strong, Morg longships were designed to withstand storms like this without capsizing. A tent-like tarpaulin of oiled hide was hung between the mast and the high posts at the bow and the stern stretched over strong bows arched between the gunwales. This roof was invaluable to keep the deck warm and dry for the rowers. In addition to this, swinging booms holding heavy ballast were extended over the sides for extra stability.


    Their leader, Briax, sought to put into a spot roughly halfway between the cities of Estremadura and Hacilar, far from populated areas. He stood at the stern, warily watching his warriors work the oars with a stoic, determined expression. Briax''s bright blue-green eyes, resembling those of his human mother, were the only thing that softened the edge of his Morg persona.


    As halfbreeds of Org and men, Morg possessed greater size and strength than most men, along with thicker skin with a mottled patterned texture wherever it was stretched tight. A Morg''s spine and shoulders were armored with overlapping bony plates that grew harder and thicker with age.


    Morg complexion was dusky, varying in shades of tans and grays. Their features were strong and primal, with bearing and attitude to match. It was in temperament, rather than appearance, that Morg more closely resembled men.


    The mythical and ancient Org race to the contrary, were known for great wisdom and powerful magic. Their great bulk and powerful forms, almost monstrous to behold, very rarely acted in anger. Thus the reputation of Morg as ''mad in the blood'' kept them outcast them from any lands other than their own island.


    Skals bore a brand upon their thick, hairless skulls marking their rank as a raid leader. This brand carried great authority in Morg society, along with great responsibility. Those Morg lords responsible for burning in the brand would not tolerate failure.


    Briax felt his stomach cramp with stress, and not just for the fact this was his first voyage as a Skal. Skals were usually veterans of many raids, and yet on this first voyage Briax misled everyone with no intent to do any raiding. Something that would not sit well with his warriors who volunteered under pretenses of spoils, slaves, and plunder.


    Had Briax made this plan known from the start of course, there would be no voyage at all. Morg law clearly stated that no Morg, even a Skal with his own ship, was free to sail where he pleased unless it was part of a raid. Briax was acting against tradition now, a dangerous thing indeed in Morg society. That stress was wearing plainly on his nerves.


    Around his neck Briax wore a heavy silver chain bearing the talisman of his father''s house. He clutched it now and rubbed his thumb against an inset gemstone called a bloodstone. The habit, like the chain itself, was inherited from his father Tarax who wore this chain with pride as a wealthy O''Skal.


    Morg warriors abroad typically dressed in plain garb of rough-spun wool, leathers and furs which better withstood the damp fog and chilly spray of the sea. Briax was no different, only embellishing his garb with this talisman, bequeathed to Briax along with this ship after Tarax''s recent death.


    Morg law would not permit Briax to inherit his status or title however, not that he wanted them. Tarax was a very cruel and underhanded O''Skal with partners of low repute. Briax had no desire to be anything like his father.


    "Skal, look there!" The ship''s kapten shouted beside him, one hand lashed to the till, the other pointing through a porthole in the tent towards something through the downpour. Briax narrowed his gaze. At this distance he could barely make out a looming blur beyond the curtains of rain. A blur he knew to be rocky cliffs. He swallowed, but his mind was made up.


    "We go in!" Briax grunted gesturing quickly, not bothering to look at the kapten in case any evidence of uncertainty was visible on his face.


    "ROW! ROW YOU CURS!" The kapten bellowed at the oarsmen. Six of them were slaves who belonged to him, the other dozen were warriors under Briax''s command. Normally none of the warriors would tolerate being barked at like a slave but in present circumstances avoiding the reefs was more important.


    Cheers erupted as they narrowly passed a foreboding rocky promontory and slipped into a tiny cove between the cliffs before surging waves beached their long ship on the sands.


    "Lower the tent, haul out the ropes and anchor-spikes! Prepare to disembark!"


    The kapten hollered as they pulled in oars followed by eager shouts of excitement by many warriors eager to step on enemy land foraying for fortune and glory. As was his privilege, Briax was the first to leap off the prow after the tent was stowed, boots sinking deeply into the wet sand of the tiny Chivalan beach.


    A female voice with a sharp and challenging tone suddenly called for him behind his shoulder. Briax knew at once it was Belisheri. Mysterious and reserved, the sorceress barely spoke during the long voyage, eager to assert herself now as someone to be reckoned with. Members of her cult were the only women permitted to accompany men on raids, yet it wasn''t often they did so, leaving Briax wondering about her purpose here? Briax waited a beat before he answered, half-turning towards her and saying, "Yes?"


    "Shall I scout ahead for a suitable target to raid?"


    "That won''t be necessary."


    "Why''s that?" She asked irritably. Briax knew rebuffing her would get on her nerves, but he was testing her. Sorceresses answered to no one except their own cult. Not even a Skal outranked them in truth, but custom was they should defer to them as a volunteer on a raid.


    "We won''t be doing any raiding tonight, but it would be helpful if you scouted a suitable campsite close to the nearby trade road." He answered.


    "So you wish to target a caravan?" She ascertained quickly.


    "That''s right." Briax stated plainly, though it was half a lie.


    Belisheri leaped off the gunwale landing gracefully beside him. She was taller than he was, dressed in supple sealskin leathers laced around a fit and well-proportioned body. Long black hair draped down her back in intricate knots while her skin was heavily tattooed around her eyes and hands.


    Briax felt a tingling sensation near to her from her magical power, though in truth it was the mysteries and rumors surrounding the blood magic practiced by her cult that gave him chills.


    Sorceresses were the most feared and respected Morg next to the ruling Morgons. While her purpose here remained obscure, crossing her could be dangerous. In theory of course, a female Morg should be especially appreciative of what he was trying to do, but it did not make sense to reveal his plans to her just yet. Not until he understood the scope and reach of her powers better, and what her motives might be.


    As if sensing his thoughts Belisheri turned to stare at him with bewitching green eyes. Something in the way she looked at him made him doubt he could keep secrets from her for very long. Eventually he would have to gamble on trusting her, or attempt to eliminate her if she proved a threat.


    "Very well." She said stretching out her arm. Moments later, a terrible shriek pierced the darkness as a Torok swooped down for her offered perch. Briax couldn''t help but grimace at the sight of the creature, deeply loathed by all except her ilk. It was something drawn out of a nightmare with large leathery wings and grotesquely long talons. This one was her familiar.


    Its body was more humanoid then bird, tiny as a newborn infants, covered in a mix of feathers and short hair over sickly pale skin. The creature had an unnaturally long disjointed neck with ugly rodent-like features including big veiny ears, large eyes and sharp teeth.


    Belisheri was not at all repulsed by the creature as she smiled and stroked its feathers, much like a mother might caress her offspring. Suddenly the Torok articulated its neck to sink fangs painfully into her fingers. Belisheri didn''t flinch and continued to adore it while it drank its fill.


    Toroks plagued Morg Island at the top of the scavengers'' food chain. Nocturnal cave-dwellers, Toroks preyed on lambs, pigs, even children. Their bite was known to cause dizziness and even paralysis. But worst of all, their wicked cleverness was revered in many dark tales that spawned many childrens nightmares.


    Briax felt sick to his stomach watching, yet chose not to look away. There may be something useful he could glean from this moment, unpleasant though it was. For one thing, he noted the Torok''s toxins apparently had no effect on Belisheri. After a minute of feeding, the Torok seemed soothed, almost drunk.


    "Hold out your arm." Belisheri spoke to Briax when it finished. Briax resisted the impulse to scoff at her and refuse. He imagined it was unwise to display any weakness towards her so he permited her to hand the Torok off to him. It hopped over without hesitation, though it hissed and pinched its talons tightly into his bracers, craning its neck to sniff at him.


    "When I find us a suitable campsite my familiar will lead you to me." She stated.


    Briax nodded and watched Belisheri walk up the beach through the rain. The Torok made no effort to feed on him or fly away as she moved off.


    "I don''t trust her..." A tortured voice remarked from close behind, so guttural and hoarse it always reminded him of a walking corpse. The voice was was that of Kurg, his sworn-brother and bodyguard, the only other Morg who knew his real plans.


    "We''ll see. I know I can count on you..." Briax answered, not adding what he really meant by that, which was that Kurg wouldn''t hesitate to kill her if he asked him too. "Are the warriors assembled?"


    "Yes." Kurg answered.


    Briax turned and approached their formation beside the longship numbering two dozen strong. Behind them the sea churned as the wind roared and the rain poured, yet none of them seemed bothered by the weather in the slightest. Morg island was fraught with such storms most of the year.


    Though they were exhausted from rowing through the waves for so many days, their strength renewed quickly and most of them were already hefting weapons and strapping on extra bits of armor, eager to get on with what they came here to do.


    Briax eyed them with no small bit of apprehension, for this was his moment to announce his change in plans. Kurg stood beside him to his left and shouted for the warriors to listen. Briax spoke up loudly then to be sure he made himself clear.


    "Warriors! We are here on Chival for a special purpose! We will NOT be partaking in the usual raiding practices of our ancestors."


    Stares and exclamations of surprise immediately broke out in the ranks. Many of them were clearly aghast to hear this, but a few seemed intrigued and Briax took care to remember those faces. He continued.


    "There is no shame adopting new tactics. Too long have we lived across the sea like common scavengers! It''s time we conquered our ancient enemies and made a new colony here for ourselves!" Whoever spoke against him now would have to be made example of. A disgruntled veteran by the name of Morul was the first to raise his voice in challenge.


    "This was not the arrangement we made when we joined this raid! We are not here to throw our lives away on some foolhardy quest!"


    Briax locked his gaze with Morul standing in the front ranks only paces away.


    "I have heard your words Morul. Yes you are a veteran of many raids, more than I in fact. But if all those other raids were really so good for you, you would be a Skal yourself standing in my place!" Laughter immediately broke out among his peers and Morul glared about angrily. Briax continued without pause. "Real opportunity belongs to the brave who attempt the unknown! Let us show our brethren back home that we are willing to take greater risks for greater riches that will be the envy of the whole island!"


    "And what is this plan of yours exactly?" Morul asked a little too disrespectfully for Kurgs liking who stepped before Briax to remind Morul of his place. Kurgs brutish strength and talent for killing were legendary. None of the warriors here would dare cross him. Briax continued, unabashed.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "My plan requires us to do more than raid. We have to make allies who will help us strike against Chivalan nobles with greater numbers."


    "Ridiculous! We are Morg, I will never ally myself with a human,especiallya Chivalan!"


    "If that is your choice, feel free to remain here on the beach with the slaves. Or you could always start your swim back... my ship of course has no room for cowards."


    Predictably, Morul reached for his ax in the motions to affront an insurrection to Briax. Kurg''s throwing axe buried itself in his forehead before he managed a single step towards him. Morul fell back, dead on his feet. The other warriors stared at him, and each other, with worried expressions.


    "Anyone else have a problem with my plan?" Briax asked, answered only by silence. "Good! Prepare the supplies; we will have to take much of them with us. Our target may not appear upon the road for several days."


    The warriors scattered to obey his command as Kurg lurched towards them to retrieve his weapon. Soon after the supplies were offloaded and distributed the Torok leaped from Briax''s forearm, screeching and circling above before darting off down the beach, signaling him to follow.


    Briax permitted himself a small sigh of relief. His first challenge facing the men had gone as well as he could have hoped. With Kurg by his side he had a chance to hold command. Dark stories and rumors from his past trailed Kurg like a long shadow. Only the horror of his ruined visage matched his reputation, though the latter was rarely witnessed beneath the heavy iron helm he wore. Briax was one of the few who saw the terrible scars around his throat and the sizable dent in his skull.


    Tales about the source of these injuries varied because Kurg never spoke of them, but most believed they occurred during an attack by the vicious flesh-eating AnGhouls. A monstrous race, AnGhouls slaughtered whole villages leaving half-eaten corpses in their wake. The fact that AnGhouls dared to attack Morg Island at all was a testament to their ferocity.


    Yet regardless of their source, Kurg''s injuries left their mark on him. Yes he could still think, and speak, and reason in large measure, but there was no doubt he was less than whole. He was no longer bodyandspirit. Empathy was absent from his eyes giving a reptilian quality to his stare that chilled the blood.


    As they marched off the beach Briax let his thoughts wander on his surroundings. Chival was sixty leagues due east of Morg Isle across the Sea of Tears. Named thus for all the wailing and sorrow that followed a Morg raid after human women of child-bearing age were captured and brought back as breeding-wives.


    Current weather non-withstanding, Chival had a warmer temperate climate than Morg Isle except for the northern region capped by glaciers. Morg rarely ventured far into the interior, where it was known there were forests, mountain ranges, rivers and lakes. Chival was certainly a paradise compared to the barren, rocky, low-lying island Morg hailed from.


    Chivalan culture was also altogether different from the Morg, even if their respective societies were nearly the same age. Chival was made from the ruins of an evil demesne called Khimera, destroyed in a great uprising and subsequent crusade against the demon-blooded king and his legions of followers.


    Chivalans fought a terrible war to gain their independence and religious freedom. Their prowess on the battlefield was well known. Perhaps more important than that was their aptitude for trade and technology, rivaled only by the much larger island-continent of Gallia to the south, with whom they shared a common religion if little else. Chival was a world-leader in all things respectable and civilized.


    Briax knew a great deal more about Chival than most Morg, thanks to the private education provided by his mother before she passed. Her name was Lilia, and she taught him most of what he knew about Sion and Chival in particular. It was because of her that he had a plan, and more importantly, the desire to change his people.


    After several miles the Torok led them to a hidden clearing overlooking a pavestone trade road. Briax ordered the warriors to set about making camp, starting with his tent. He could sense they were restless now, unsure of their purpose. There was grumbling and whispers with very little laughter. He would have to rally them to a purpose soon, for not even Kurg could withstand the whole group if they turned against him.


    Belisheri watched him critically as he organized the campsite. It irked him to think he had anything to prove to her, or worse yet imagining how she could potentially undo him before he even got started. However for the moment, he knew she was not yet privy to his speech on the beach. There was no way to know what her reaction to that would be. If it turned into a confrontation, the real worry might be how his warriors would react. Would they remain loyal to him?


    After his tent was setup and put in order Briax quickly ducked inside, if only to avoid her stares for a few minutes peace. By the light of an oil lamp He poured water into a hand basin and stood over it, gazing at his own distorted reflection in the ripples. In moments like this he imagined a different face for himself, a face with features more like his mothers.


    Lilia was Chivalan by birth, born to a common family hereabouts in the Mordhel region of Chivals western coast. Its capital city, Estremadura was one of the busiest ports on this island and folk of this region were usually thriving.


    For a brief moment Briax fantasized about what life might have been like for him here if his mother hadn''t been captured in a raid. He imagined he would have still been an adventurer, if not so much of a reformer. Perhaps he would have been an explorer, free to sail wherever he wished writing of encounters sure to awe and amaze.


    Briax''s daydream ended as soon as his features coalesced back into focus and he recognized his resemblance to his Morg father Tarax, a man he''d loathed all his life. The fact Tarax was dead, poisoned by his own hand over a month ago did not lessen that bitterness like he hoped. It was not shame of the deed that bothered him. Tarax was responsible for Lilia''s death so he had good cause. His only regret was how he killed him and how long he had waited.


    Lilia had actually anticipated her own death at his hands, and forbid Briax to avenge her until he was old enough to inherit a share of his wealth, particularly his ships. Sturdy, seaworthy vessels were hard to come by on Morg Isle. Their trees were gnarled and twisted, very poor for making planks. Without good timber, shipbuilding was twice as arduous, time consuming and costly, yet sorely needed all the same. Few Morg were rich enough to afford the expense on their own so villagers took to collaboration on shipbuilding projects.


    Contributors owned a stake in the ship thereafter with a right to a share of the commerce facilitated by its use. That commerce was typically transport of goods around the island, but raiding other lands across the sea was easily the most lucrative venture.


    Raids were led by veteran warriors called Skals, chosen for leadership ability and experience. Some were elected; others simply took the mantle from other Skals by right of challenge. Technically any Morg could call himself a Skal if they were willing to swear an oath and be officially ordained by a Morgon. Finding Morg eager to volunteer to go raiding was easy. The trouble was securing a ship with which to do so.


    A Skals first battle was often a negotiation trying a charter a ship under favorable terms. Not an easy thing when the vessel itself was likely more valuable than the spoils it hauled back. Failed raids were financially taxing to all involved but ruinous to Skals. Indebted slavery or death was often their fate.


    Skals fortunate enough to lead successful raids might grow rich and earn the honor and title of O''Skal, or lord. An O''Skal was responsible for all the raids from a particular area of the island. Unlike Skals, O''Skals were chosen by the regions Overseer, ostensibly by reputation and merit. An O''Skal might serve for life but their title would not transfer to their children. Tarax was a wealthy and successful O''Skal but Briax would not have wanted his title even if he was entitled to it.


    Tarax was dishonest and corrupt with many friends in low places. Had Briax tried to fill his shoes without maintaining the same underhanded deals he would have met a similar end. Briax already had enough enemies who wished him dead merely for the sake of jealousy or a grudge.


    In his heart Briax was a prophet, not a Skal. Keeping silent all these years about his real goals was not easy. There were moments when it took all his willpower to hold his tongue and avoid ridiculing or lashing out at other Morg. And worse, there were moments when he had to act as depraved and barbaric as they do to fit in and be respected.


    Growing up, the very idea of participating in raids troubled him. Lilia understood this and prepared him for it. She said before he had a chance to change the Morg he must first learn to be one of them. She said she would forgive him for all the sins he had to do before he had a chance to do good.


    But now his time had finally come. He knew humans everywhere hated Morg, for good reason. Nothing he did could make up for, or lessen the crimes of his race. Morg and man would never be brothers, but perhaps he could achieve a measure of understanding and equality between them.


    His musings were interrupted by a slight draft as the flap of his tent was pulled open. He tensed and twisted in a rage, intent on cursing out whoever disturbed him, but held his tongue when he saw it was her.


    "We have much to discuss." Belisheri stated plainly. Briax frowned, wishing Kurg was by his side, but he also realized intimating any weakness to her was probably a bad idea. It was some small comfort at least that her disgusting pet was not with her.


    "Very well." Briax answered gesturing to his small table, offering her a chair before clearing off a pile of maps and parchments including accounts of raids by other Skals. Belisheri took notice.


    "You seem well prepared for a Skal who doesn''t wish to actually do any raiding."


    Briax kept his expression neutral as he placed the oil map between them and grabbed a jug of Kvasa and two cups. "Didn''t take you long to find out about that." He remarked as he poured.


    "I heard your speech."


    Briax took care not to spill as she spoke and raised a brow. "Did you now?"


    Belisheri smirked as she quoted him. "...It''s time we conquered our ancient enemies and made a new colony here for ourselves."


    "Impressive. I see rumors of your kind aren''t exaggerated."


    "Rumors hardly do us justice." She answered with no small amount of arrogance.


    Briax handed her a cup and sat opposite her. "Shall we make a toast in the custom of the Chivalans?" He asked raising his cup. Belisheri frowned.


    "They are the enemy."


    "Yes, but a worthy enemy deservessomeadmiration."


    "Do you want to live like them? Is that why you came here?" She asked pointedly.


    Briax gave up on the toast and took a heavy swallow. "Not exactly. But I believe there is much we can learn from them."


    "I already know a great deal about them. None of it changes the fact they would destroy us all if they could."


    "I''m not suggesting we make peace, just that we adopt different tactics."


    "There are warriors outside who feel otherwise. One word from me and it''s all over for you."


    "I think you''ll reconsider once you hear my plan."


    Belisheri finally sipped her kvasa eyeing him like a coiled viper waiting to strike. "Speak then."


    Briax drained his cup for a moment''s pause considering the best angle to engage her into this discussion. He decided to lead out with a simple question.


    "Answer me this. Why are we feared?"


    "We are feared because we take what we want, when we want."


    "That''s what we like to think, but in fact it''s quite the opposite. We take what we can get, when we can get it."


    Belisheri sneered. "What kind of Skal mocks his own people?!"


    "I''m just speaking the truth. Chivalans believe we are like demons lurking in the shadows, seemingly striking at random. This perception suites us well enough, but only because we choose to flee just as quickly as we strike."


    "We must be gone before they organize a force of their knights, or their warships against us."


    Briax smiled coyly. "Suppose we didn''t have to flee because our allies hid and sheltered us?"


    Belisheri laughed. "Allies?! Why would we ever trust one ofthemto be an ally?"


    "Because we give them no choice!" Briax answered plainly. "We force their cooperation, it''s the only way."


    Belisheri eyed him suspiciously. "How?"


    Briax knew he had his hook in her now, yet there was some wisdom in keeping her on the line and not revealing everything too soon.


    "First we must acquire leverage over the local lords. We do this by targeting a specific caravan upon the road with something very valuable in their keeping. Once we possess this, we can negotiate terms for whatever we need."


    "What is this valuable thing?"


    "Does it matter?"


    "It matters if you expect these warriors to exile themselves for it."


    "I expect they will accept exile easily enough once they enjoy their spoils and realize none of it has to be taxed by the Morgons."


    Belisheri stopped smirking then, her eyes taking on a different look. In that instant Briax recognized something in her that surprised him; genuine fear of the Morgons. If she were just another morg this wouldn''t surprise him in the least, but sorceresses enjoyed a privileged, powerful position in morg society. Of course that in itself might make her fear them all the more? Perhaps he made a mistake underestimating how their rage towards her betrayal might be worse than his?


    "This is madness!" She muttered. "Anyone who goes along with this plan will be flayed alive for treason!"


    "How will they punish us from across the sea?" Briax asked refilling his cup.


    "If you''re foolish enough to underestimate them, you and anyone that follows you will die! Also, you do realize anyone associated with you back home will be questioned and similarly punished if they had any part supporting this raid. Are you prepared for that?"


    "Perhaps that''s just what we need."


    "Hah!"


    "I''m not joking. Why should Morg accept rule by the Morgons? We outnumber them a hundred to one at least."


    Belisheri''s breath seemed to catch in her throat. Briax enjoyed catching her off guard; it seemed she truly never truly considered that idea, which also revealed another important point. She wasn''t expecting him to suggest it either. Whatever her reasons were for being here, they hadn''t sent her suspecting him for treason in quite this way. That small realization was a small comfort.


    "Is that your plan? You won''t get away with it. They''ll see what you''re up too. You''re not the first to attempt an uprising."


    "Perhaps, but for now time is on my side. They won''t expect us back from this raid for a few weeks."


    "They''ll know a lot sooner than that. My kind will find out. There is very little they cannot see I assure you."


    "So they''ll see us in the same way you somehow observed my speech on the beach?" Briax questioned hoping to glean a little more information about her spells.


    "Not exactly, but there are many ways and means to use magic you wouldn''t understand."


    "Well than it is good you came along. I will rely on you to convince themnotto report on our activities."


    Belisheri snorted. "As if I could?!"


    "It shouldn''t be hard, once you explain what they have to gain from supporting us."


    Belisheri scoffed and suddenly stood, hands clenched in anger. Her eyes burned into him with terrible power. So intense was her stare that Briax failed to notice her fingers twitching in the workings of a spell. Suddenly his vision and sense of balance was compromised by blood leaking from every orifice in his head. He felt his own hands grasping for his axe and his dagger, panic swelling deeply into his heart.


    He tried to call out for Kurg but there was so much blood dripping into his throat he could only manage a loud gurgle, indistinguishable against the storming winds outside. Choking on his own essence he suddenly understood the horrors of blood magic. Sanguinarcanathey called it.


    He would only end her spell breaking her concentration somehow, either by wounding her or grappling with her. Weapons brandished, Briax lunged forward knocking aside the small table between them with the last bit of strength he could muster which also toppled away the oil lamp.


    Of course, when the light of the lamp was extinguished he could not distinguish the outline of her body against the walls of his tent with his vision so impaired. In a panic he started swinging blindly with his weapons. Belisheri had no choice but to lurch back through the flaps of the tent to avoid his wild swings stepping directly into the reach of Briax''s bodyguard who easily knocked her unconscious.


    Briax stumbled after her, tripping over her body as his faculties finally failed him completely. All around him there was shouting before everything faded to black.

 Chapter 2

    Kurg stood stiffly over the fallen sorceress, unsure if he''d killed her or not. In truth he didn''t care either way. Meanwhile other warriors came running and crowded around him.


    "Kurg struck down the sorceress! The Skal has fallen!" They shouted.


    Kurg knelt beside Briax and felt for a pulse. It was strange to witness such concern in Kurg for another Morg, but he and Briax were oath-brothers. This vow essentially made kin of those who were not otherwise related.


    Culturally the oath was a very old practice, older than Skalhood in fact. Morg often made many enemies, both abroad and at home. Such oaths were a good way to ensure survival, especially now that Morg society was so deeply divided. Vow or not however, Kurg''s concern for his Skal was deeper than duty, and none dared interfere, even if some secretly hoped Briax was dead.


    "He lives!" Kurg grunted at last.


    A warrior-skald by the name of Erex stepped forward and spoke. Skalds were storytellers and singers, respected in their role as entertainers and witnesses to history.


    "Was the Sorceress responsible for his wounds? Is that why you struck her down?"


    "Of course." Kurg answered plainly.


    Whispers and mutterings immediately spread through the group. "Is she dead?" Erex inquired.


    "Check her." Kurg ordered, still cradling Briax''s head and shoulders. Erex did as he was bid, feeling for her pulse.


    "She lives!" He spoke, just as her familiar swooped down through the rain, clawing and biting at his face in a savage attack. Erex shrieked in agony as one of his eyes was plucked from its socket by the Torok''s talons! Erex recoiled away, rolling in the mud clutching at his ruined face.


    Hissing loudly in challenge, the Torok snatched up Erex''s eye its teeth, swallowing it down its long, disjointed neck. It did not linger a moment longer to make an easy target of itself, flying back into the night winds as quickly as it appeared.


    "Damned thing!" The Warriors raged, darting forward to lend aid to Erex who writhed in shock and pain. Kurg swiveled his helm, watching the Torok with obvious disdain, though he did not fear it in the slightest.


    "Bind the bitch and bring her to me!" He ordered before lifting Briax in his arms like a child, carrying him back into his tent. Two warriors quickly went about binding her hands and feet with leather straps, dragging her inside after him.


    Kurg lit another lantern and laid Briax down gently on his fur-laden cot, wiping away the blood from his eyes and mouth with a dampened cloth.


    "What will we do with her?" The warriors asked laying Belisheri roughly at his feet.


    "That is for the Skal to decide. See that she is gagged and hooded for good measure, than leave us."


    The warriors did as they were bid, departing without complaint. The pair of them, Gerik and Algot, returned to the crowd around Erex.


    "I''m going to tear that vile creature in half!" Erex cursed in miserable pain, holding a bloody cloth to his eye socket with one hand while the other nursed a jug of Kvasa. Murmurs of support echoed among the group.


    "The sorceress won''t be able to stop you. Kurg dealt with her as easily as he would anyone else." A warrior named Jorn remarked.


    "Kurg says the Skal will decide her fate." Gerik interjected.


    "Oh? But she tried to kill the Skal with one of her vile spells? Surely he will order her put to death!"


    Gerik shrugged. "Maybe... Our Skal isn''t the most predictable sort is he?"


    Algot spat to the ground. "We would have been better off he didn''t survive. I''m not so sure he''s the Skal we should be following."


    Tenseness settled on the group, some silently nodding.


    "I say we see what happens before we judge him unfit!" Erex said rather unexpectedly.


    "Do you really think so?" Algot asked. "You lost your eye because he provoked her!"


    "Don''t be so sure, we don''t know what happened in that tent. I only know this much, sorceresses can''t be trusted! There''s too much of the demon in them."


    "Killing her is no small thing." Algot complained. "Mark my words, following him is not wise. None of us are above the law, especially a Skal who acts like a madman and a rebel!"


    "You sound like you left your balls back on Morg Isle Algot. Briax wants to try new tactics. He might be on to something." Erex argued.


    "He might still die!" Algot argued. "Blood magic is no easy thing to survive. An uncle of mine lost a hand brushing against a sorceress in a market. He apologized at once, yet she still cast a spell that cursed him. That night, his hand cramped and stopped moving, blackening and stiffening like a corpse. He had to hack it off before it corrupted the rest of his body."


    "This whole raid is cursed!" An older warrior named Olaf complained. "As Morg, it is unnatural for us to live anywhere other than our home! We shouldn''t follow Briax!"


    Erex chuckled. "Funny, I didn''t hear either of you speak up earlier when Morul fell."


    Algot sneered. "I won''t take offense to that in your current condition, but take care!"


    Erex snorted and rose to his feet, dropping the bloody cloth from his wound, muscles angrily clenched in both his jaw and his fists as he stepped face to face with Algot, veins tautly visible on his neck and temples.


    "I don''t care one bit how offended you are in my present condition!" Erex said allowing bloody spittle from his lips to splatter over Algots face as he spoke. Algot took a half step back, clearly unnerved by the gaping mess of his eye socket.


    Briax felt consciousness return to him as he vomited up his own blood, the taste of iron thick in his mouth. He wiped away the smears of blood in his eyes and struggled to sit up, assisted by Kurg.


    "Where''s Belisheri?" He croaked, coughing up more spittle.


    "On the floor."


    "Alive?" He asked blinking.


    "Yes."


    "I''m not sure I''m happy to hear that." He groaned


    "Shall I finish her?" Kurg asked


    "Not yet. She made her point. Now I need to make mine." Briax answered standing on shaky legs. He started to move to his wash-basin once more to clean off all the blood, but then thought better of it, sitting in his chair instead. "Remove her gag and wake her up, but keep her hood and bindings on." He ordered.


    Kurg untied her gag, grabbed the pitcher of water beside the washbasin and doused the sorceress with it. Belisheri immediately gasped for breath before uttering several profanities. She clearly was not used to such disrespect.


    "Nice try!" Briax said consolingly.


    Belisheri turned her head in his direction, but he had little to fear, so long as she could not see him and move her hands freely.


    "You are harder to kill than you look, but it makes no difference!" She said bitterly.


    "If that''s true you should have humored me longer. Why take the onus upon yourself?"


    "Duty! Something you clearly care nothing about... Skal!" She retorted mockingly.


    "What you call duty is actually obligation through fear. It doesn''t have to be that way."


    Belisheri chuckled. "You think it makes any difference what you think? You''re challenging powers you couldn''t possibly understand!"


    "I know more than you realize sorceress. You should have let us finish our debate. I''m not the mad fool you think I am."


    Belisheri said nothing, merely clenched her teeth together seething with anger. Briax sensed her spiteful nature was stronger than her will to live. She was ultimately too proud to tolerate her situation. The only way he would reason with her is if she chose to do so on her own terms.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Untie her." He said to Kurg.


    Kurg hesitated and almost looked like he might refuse. Briax rarely asked his oath-brother to do anything twice. The armored brute had total confidence in his judgement, except when he might be taking too much risk upon himself. This moment almost qualified as something worth refusal, but Kurg himself was here to put hands on her in his defense if he had too; and he was just as confident in his own ability to maim and kill as Briax was in matters of leadership and strategy. Thus, he did as he was bid, though he stood near her and did not take his eyes off her.


    Belisheri quickly removed her hood and glared at them both, rubbing the sore marks around her wrists from her bindings before she said. "I''m listening."


    "First we have to make peace before the warriors. Fighting between us will hurt morale and create division." Briax said.


    She appeared to ponder this for a few moments before she nodded. Together the trio exited his tent into the stormy night once more. Before them, the warriors stood together in an agitated crowd where Erex the warrior-skald and Algot presently faced off. Voices of argument died down as they emerged. All eyes staring at their Skals bloody countenance.


    Briax immediately recognized what was happening. He must be quick to assert command before it was too late. "FORM UP!" He shouted with all the authority he could muster, his voice half a gurgle from nearly drowning in his own blood. Erex was the first to march forward, taking a place in formation only a few paces from him. Briax noted his missing eye at once, along with the way his jaw clenched in the presence of the sorceress.


    The other warriors fell into formation tensely and more reluctantly than he would like. Algot was the last to fall in, choosing a spot in the rear. Suddenly another screech was heard as the Torok swooped down from the dark to land on Belisheri''s shoulder. Erex flinched at the sight of it and Briax quickly deduced what must have happened but he didn''t let it interfere with what he had to say.


    "The sorceress and I had a disagreement! It was unfortunate, but we are past that now! We must not forget where we are or let our guard down. This is not the time and place for quarrels and lack of discipline!"


    Erex started to open his mouth, anger clearly getting the better of him, but Briax was having none of that. "DO NOT SPEAK!" Briax screeched. "I will not tolerate disobedience, is that clear!"


    "YES SKAL!" They answered in unison.


    "Put this camp in order! Set up guard duty and get a cook fire going! Dawn will soon be upon us and orders will follow!" Briax said matter-of-factly, watching the warriors break formation to go about their business. It took a lot of willpower on his own part not to call out to Erex to remain behind. He wanted to speak with him, but there must be a reckoning with Belisheri first.


    After the men broke apart he turned again to the sorceress. "After you..." He said gesturing back towards the tents entrance in a mocking display of local chivalry.


    As soon as she turned, Briax glanced at Kurg with a certain look. The brute''s gauntlet struck out with shocking speed snatching her familiar around the neck. Its talons clamped into Belisheri''s shoulder, alerting her instantly of the danger, but it was already too late. Krug crushed the creature''s neck like a worm.


    Belisheri ducked and spun, attempting to avoid the brute''s next blow with great agility but Briax reacted half a second faster, tackling her back into the tent. They struggled, rolling over the mess he''d already created in their earlier skirmish. Belisheri thought she had the upper hand, managing to free her dagger before he could free his, but Kurg snatched her arm around the wrist, yanking her away from him like a ragdoll.


    She struck and kicked at him with her other limbs; solid, skillful strikes to be sure, which simply had no effect. It was maddening the way Kurg stood there, apparently made of solid oak, ignoring her feeble attempts to free herself.


    Meanwhile, Briax stood and moved over to the washbasin to finally scrub away the blood from his neck and face. "Your foul familiar half-blinded Erex!" He said angrily, kneeling down to grab the cups and half-spilled jug of Kvasa before righting the table he''d knocked over earlier.


    "My familiar was merely protecting me the same way Kurg protected you!"


    "You''ll have to make amends to Erex personally. I can''t be seen to have any favorites; you saw how he and Algot are already at each other''s throats."


    Belisheri was clearly appalled at the idea of apologizing to a Morg for anything. "Don''t presume to give me orders!" She snarled.


    "YOU WILL DO IT!" He shouted, losing his temper at last, veins rising in his forehead around the brand. Kurg''s grip on Belisheri''s arm became painfully tighter until she was forced to nod. "Now sit!" He said looking her straight in the eye after Kurg dropped her into the other chair.


    Briax drank deeply from his cup, washing the remaining blood from his mouth and throat. "Let''s continue our discussion shall we? We''ll start with what we can agree on, such as certain historical facts about our race."


    "Historical facts?" She teased. "How amusing, a Skal who fancies himself a shaman."


    "You forget how rich my father was. Growing up I wanted for little, tutoring under the wisest and most learned shamans of our land."


    Belisheri smirked, amused by his self confidence. Shamans were healers, sages, teachers and arbitrators. Yet the true dark secrets of Morg history were closely guarded by her cult and she knew it.


    "Go ahead and speak of history, if you must." She sneered.


    "I''m sure you''ll agree the origins of our race began right here on Chival, approximately three thousand years ago." He prompted.


    Belisheri smirked. "Everyone knows that. Eros the Org, father of our race, roamed this land with other Org tribes."


    "And you know why he left?"


    "He eloped with his bride, the Khimeran princess Kari, to escape the wrath of her father who was already slaughtering the Org people to find her. Together they crossed the sea and settled on an island called Anatol, occupied by Ahuran colonies from the Kingdom of Croesus in the north."


    Briax nodded. "Yes, yes, but what do you know about Kari''s people?"


    Briax''s question caught Belisheri a bit off guard. Morg were not supposed to know anything of Khimeran lore, except for occasional insights they learned from captured Chivalan slaves and plundered spoils. Shamans certainly didn''t teach anything about Khimera, knowing the unspoken taboo placed on it by her cult and the Morgons. Her answer was therefore boorishly vague. "Not much is known of Khimera, except that it was defeated by the holy crusade of Pentos a thousand years later."


    Briax snorted. "Come now, don''t be coy. You know as well as I do what sort of kingdom Khimera was. Its nobles were corrupted and beholden to demons that marched in their armies and shared their beds. Every noble, including Princess Kari, had the taint of demon blood in their veins. Blood that bore dark powers, extraordinary long life, and madness..."


    Belisheri''s eyes narrowed and her breathing appeared to lose its rhythm. He had certainly surprised her with that statement, his next might push her over the edge, but there was no going back now.


    "Org are also quite long-lived, which is how he fathered two races singlehandedly. Eros held Kari in the highest regard there is no doubt, as he did their mutual offspring, the Morgons. We all know he made her his queen after he conquered Anatol. Yet the fact remains she was Khimeran and something was wrong with her womb. All Morgons, then as now, are born male after all. Contrarily, Eros'' other children, the Morg, born from his many natural human Ahuran wives, had females as often as males..."


    Belisheri interrupted, clearly angry on the verge of lashing out again. "How dare you speak of Kari like that!"


    Briax pressed on, changing tact''s somewhat. "Don''t get me wrong Belisheri, Kari was great, no doubt about that. I''m well aware her teachings are the source of your power. Khimeran lore reveals she was a great sorceress in her own right, perhaps the greatest of her age, which easily makes her one of the greatest of all time! You and others in your cult are sworn to safeguard her dark magic, and her secrets, are you not?"


    Belisheri couldn''t believe her ears. The fact this lowly Skal dared to speak to her as an equal was one thing, but uttering rumors about her most cherished ancestor with such arrogant familiarity was too much to bear.


    "ENOUGH!" Belisheri said attempting to stand before Kurg pressed her back into her seat. Another tense moment hung between them, back-dropped by lashing rain and howling wind buffeting against the walls of his tent. "I will not hear another word about her or whatever you presume to know about my sisters!" She said with a hiss. "I am done listening to your ravings and will not be a part of your plans!"


    Briax took in a deep breath. It was time to try a different angle. "Let me ask you Belisheri, what would you be if you weren''t a sorceress?"


    Belisheri huffed. "I was chosen very young. There''s never been a choice."


    "You think I have a choice?"


    "I think you must have been dropped on your head!"


    Briax chuckled. "Perhaps, but the truth is none of us are born with our beliefs. If I had different parents and you weren''t chosen to be a sorceress, we''d be living different lives right now."


    "So what?"


    "Females aren''t offered the same opportunities as males. Morg law states you can''t marry, lead raids, serve as a Landmaster or Guildmaster..."


    Belisheri spit on the table, glaring at him spitefully. "You think I need to hear that from you?"


    "Not at all, I think it''s wrong." Briax stated plainly. "I appreciate your passion to protect your status as a sorceress. I''m only asking you to open your mind to even bigger possibilities."


    Belisheri sighed, losing energy to argue. "Morgons cannot be defeated."


    "Morgons die the same as the rest of us. Their deaths aren''t widely reported, but they happen. Morg Isle is a dangerous place, even for them."


    "I know more about everything that happens on Morg Isle, and the Morgons, than you ever heard of!" She retorted.


    Briax leaned forward in his chair. "And I know more about Chival and Khimera than you ever heard of! Thanks to my mother."


    Belisheri raised a brow. "Your mother?!"


    Briax nods. "Her name was Lilia, a native of this region."


    Belisheri leaned back, making half a smile. "Aha! It all makes sense now. You''re doing this for vengeance!"


    "No I''m not." Briax said reaching for the talisman around his neck.


    Belisheri paused, narrowing her gaze. She sensed something was wrong with how he said that, but her curiosity on another topic got the best of her. "What made your mother such an expert on Khimera?"


    "Her family has a very old tradition with the church of Pentos, with rare access to their archives. Besides that, not everything in the ancient capital of Khimera was collected by the church during the crusade. Some artifacts eluded them, hidden by her ancestors two thousand years ago."


    "What sort of artifacts?" Belisheri asked on impulse.


    Briax paused before he answered, unsure if he should reveal this secret to her. He knew it would pique her interest, but there was no way to know how it would motivate her? "Org artifacts." He answered at last.


    Belisheri''s breath caught in her throat. Org artifacts were among the rarest and most powerful magic items ever created, capable of destroying whole armies and leveling entire cities. "Are you certain?!" She gasped eagerly leaning forward.


    "She described them to me in detail. I do believe she actually laid eyes on them, and what''s more, she told me how I can find them."


    Belisheri''s mind raced. Her attitude towards Briax just flipped and left her feeling rather breathless. It made sense for Chival to have Org artifacts given the large number of Org tribes who used to dwell here. It even made sense why Chivalans would hide them instead of using them, given the stigma placed on arcane magic by their church. This was amazing news!


    Briax leaned back taking a deep breath. Revealing that secret to a sorceress was a strange feeling. He only hoped he made the right decision.


    "It would have saved a lot of trouble if you told me that from the beginning!" Belisheri said after a long moment of silence.


    "Would you?"


    Belisheri didn''t have an easy answer for that. He had a point. "Ok, you have my support." She said begrudgingly.


    "Good!" Briax said flashing a rare smile. "Now, how about that toast?"


    Belisheri couldn''t help but return the smile. "What shall we toast?"


    Briax filled her cup and raised his own. "To Lilia!"


    At that moment, outside in the wind and rain, ear pressed to the tent, the elderly warrior Olaf swallowed with terrible recognition. This Skal had to be stopped!

 Chapter 3

    Erex''s mood was as dark and stormy as the weather as he sat in misery within the cook tent. Several warriors sat with him awaiting an early breakfast. Normally the first hot-meal on enemy land was cause for carousal and storytelling. This time there was only silence around the cook fire and Erex hated feeling responsible for that. Erex''s gumption as a warrior-skald was wavering, as was his self-confidence.


    His mind kept reviewing events leading up to this moment as if it sought an alternate ending. Erex was young for a skald, unproven in battle and unrenowned in his oratory skills. Thus it both pleased and surprised him greatly so be selected by Briax for this raid. Erex remembered the day well.


    In the weeks before their launch, Tarax''s death was big news. Well-respected O''Skals didn''t die every day, especially not from shellfish poisoning of all things. Dreaded as he was, foul play was an obvious conclusion, prompting an investigation by the Morgons. When no arrests took place everyone watched and waited to see how Briax and his half-brother Athryx would react.


    Athryx and Briax were never close growing up, often quarreling. Most expected a duel between the brothers for rights to all their father''s property. Local gossip favored Athryx, Tarax''s younger son, to win such a fight. He had the same cruel reputation and penchant for violence as his father. Briax was an unknown, reputed to be more of an explorer than a warrior. Rumor had it Briax preferred to sail around the island on shore-hugging trade ships rather than raiding.


    Thus it was something of a disappointment, if not a surprise, to hear Briax settled for less than half of what he was entitled to as the eldest son, giving Athryx the lion''s share of their inheritance. What was surprising is how Briax sought out skalhood and traveled the land seeking warriors, instead of simply summoning them as other well known Skals were known to do.


    Kurg was the first to join his banner, a fact that prompted a great deal of interest in his command because Kurg never agreed to go raiding before. Other warriors convinced Briax of their worthiness in one way or another, but Erex himself was the last to be chosen, and it was never made clear to him why he was chosen above others? The question mulled over in his mind now once more, as it so often had.


    Erex knew Briax had already met with other skalds in the days leading up to their launch; skalds with more experience and skills than he. He also knew skalds earned an extra share of spoils writing ballads that promoted further raids for the crew. Thus, Erex made an effort to speak with the other warriors for this purpose, collecting details he could later use for such ballads during their long days at sea. He recalled now that not one of these other warriors were married or otherwise well-ensconced in the Morg community. Some were too young and unproven, others too old and disgraced, which was perhaps exactly why they were chosen! A realization suddenly came to Erex in between spasms of pain.


    Briax chose these warriors for his crew his ship precisely because they had nothing to lose if they didn''t return! The thought angered Erex even further. He''d actually believed Briax saw something unique about him; some special quality that made him worthy of this raid. Now it occurred to him that the truth might be precisely the opposite.


    Why was he intrigued by this idea of occupying the enemy homeland when so far, all he had to show for it was a lost eye! Nevermind that one-eyed Morg were capable of living long, fulfilling lives. Erex knew several tales that proved that in fact, but right now none of them brought comfort. His blood was up and the only thing he wanted was things to make sense.


    It irked him that he actually expected Briax to punish the sorceress on his behalf. That''s why he tried to demand justice, something akin to an eye-for-an-eye. Thinking back on it, Erex wasn''t even sure why he spoke up for Briax when he did? He must be in denial. Perhaps Olaf was right; this raid was cursed! Erex''s thoughts were interrupted as Vog, the cook, placed a bowl of hot gruel and flat bread in his hands.


    "Try to eat something." He said in a comforting tone. Vog was a stout veteran of many raids, almost as old as Olaf and clearly past his prime. His portly gut and love of rum didn''t help him swing an axe or charge up a hill to be sure... but he knew how to make the best of scavenged food and treat wounds which earned him a lot of appreciation.


    Erex stared at the food, feeling his stomach growl while also dreading the act of chewing while his head ached so painfully. After a moment he passed the food over to the others who silently divvied it amongst themselves. Vog placed a bottle of rum in his hands instead and Erex uncorked it with the tip of his dagger gratefully.


    "I''ll fashion an eye patch soon lad." Vog said while the others ate. Erex was close to drinking half the bottle when Belisheri approached through the downpour in a hooded cloak. Erex''s headache worsened as his hands clenched at the sight of her.


    The Sorceress paused beside the cook tent carrying the still and lifeless Torok with a broken neck. For a moment the warriors stared and no one said anything. Erex was pleased to see the Torok dead and mangled, he wondered who did it? Yet that creature''s death wasn''t quite enough to balance the scales of resentment in his heart.


    Erex imagined how satisfying it would be to smash the bottle of rum across Belisheri''s face, perhaps blinding her in the process! That at least would be justice! Sensing his anger, Vog placed a warning hand on his shoulder.


    "Would you like some gruel?" Vog asked the sorceress respectfully.


    "I would speak with Erex."


    All the other warriors stopped chewing.


    "Speak then!" Erex spat, surprising himself with the heated tone of disrespect that soured his words.


    Belisheri clenched her jaw, "I wish to apologize for the wound my Torok inflicted." She said at last, clearly struggling with how she just lowered herself to addressing a mere Morg like an equal.


    Erex blinked... an apology was the last thing he expected! Belisheri continued.


    "My familiar was only acting as it was trained to do... yet Briax demands I make amends. What is it that you want?"


    Morg hardly ever had a chance to ask for something from a sorceress. This gesture was unprecedented! Erex stared at her, still seated, but far from calm.


    Custom did not stipulate that he had to accept her offer, yet refusal would almost certainly stir bad blood between them and things could quickly get nasty. Erex knew this. Part of him relished the idea of giving into his anger instead of playing this game. And yet, playing this game better than she did may be the best way to get even! Slowly he rose, still holding the bottle.


    "Teach me the secrets of sorcery. I wish to be a spell-caster!" Erex demanded, prompting the other warriors mouths to fall agape. Such a request was unheard of! Belisheri furrowed her brows towards Erex with a dangerous expression. The other warriors feared another confrontation about to take place!The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Follow!" She said curtly, whirling about and stalking on towards her tent.


    Erex was too stunned to react at first... he didn''t expect her to actually agree... if indeed she did? The other warriors started to speak but Vog snatched away his bottle and shoved him into the rain after her before anyone else could dissuade him.


    The lashing downpour quickly cured the numbing influence of the rum out of his head. Remarkably he wasn''t even angry anymore. Now he was only curious, and determined not to make a fool of himself.


    Belisheri''s tent was a strange design, supported from its center by a tall iron pike poking through a circular iron ring. A ring that served as a central link to several iron chains, each with an identical iron ring at their other end supporting other iron pikes that served as the corners of the tent. The walls of the tent were made of stitched animal hides, dyed in shades of black, grey and red.


    Erex knew Belisheri couldn''t have managed to carry such an elaborate and heavy tent all this way from the cove alone. In fact he didn''t recall her carrying much of anything when she set off to scout a location for this camp in the first place? Where did this come from? He wondered, pushing his way in behind her. Inside it was warm, smelling faintly of old candles and exotic incense.


    He was also shocked to see its interior was much larger than it appeared. Indeed it was not a tent at all, but rather some small stone hut, complete with a sleeping chamber, a kitchen, and a small laboratory/study beside a cramped living area, lit by a low-burning fire in a small hearth.


    "What is this? Where are we?!" He asked with disbelief.


    "This is an illusion of my real home back on Morg Isle, recreated from memory and manifested by my bloodstone..." She gestured to a talisman hanging from a hook on one of the walls as she hung her wet cloak on another.


    Erex was speechless, glancing about with a dizzy feeling. He concentrated on the sound of the weather pattering against the clay tiles of the roof... He wanted to reach out and touch something merely to confirm if it really had substance or not? The place felt like someone else''s dream, which was also perhaps why he had the sense that he was being watched?


    Sensing movement at the corners of his eyes he glanced over his shoulders, yet whatever it was vanished as soon as he glanced towards it. Erex had a very unsettled, uncomfortable feeling. However, he resisted the urge to bolt, reminding himself this was his choice to be here. Whatever happened he must stay and learn all he could, for as long as he could.


    Meanwhile, Belisheri carried the Torok to a small altar featuring a ceremonial dagger and a large iron bowl stained with blood.


    "What are you doing?" Erex asked.


    "I am healing my familiar, be silent!" She hissed.


    Erex was angered imagining that awful creature brought back to life somehow.


    "That wasn''t part of the deal!" He complained.


    "If you want to learn anything from me, learn first never to interfere!" She warned, placing the Torok in the bowl as her fingers twitched and her voice hissed and chanted in some dark language. After a minute she lifted the dagger and sliced open her wrist, dripping blood into the bowl. Moments later the creature stirred, the crushed vertebrae in its neck snapping back into place.


    It licked at her wound hungrily, but weakly, growing stronger the more it drank. When it had its fill it clambered up her arm again to sit upon her shoulder, hissing at Erex hatefully. Feeding the creature apparently took a toll on Belisheri as she suddenly lost her strength to stand, leaning forward to support herself against the altar.


    "Why do you love that wicked thing so much?!" Erex asked.


    "Familiars are useful!" She scoffed. "Be glad I was able to save it in time, ...or I assure you I wouldn''t be in the mood to consider your request at all." She said with an apparent loss of breath.


    "Is it your blood that''s magic, or your spells?" He questioned.


    Belisheri answered as if talking to a child. "Our blood is already magic. Sanguinarcana is the mastery of that power. With it I can heal, corrupt, manipulate or destroy any living thing that bleeds."


    Erex felt a question at the tip of his tongue, one Belisheri also predicted.


    "You wish to ask if I can heal you?" She asked. Erex was irked to answer that, but he couldn''t help himself.


    "Can you?"


    "Perhaps, but that wasn''t what you asked for is it? What you want is the ability to heal yourself, as I can." She said placing her dagger back on the altar before she willed her own wrist to stop bleeding somehow. "Blood is precious, never waste a single drop!"


    "How can I manage that?" He asked impatiently.


    "How do scabs form? It''s a perfectly natural process. Your body only does it very slowly, so the healing process doesn''t weaken you too much." She commented, stepping over to a high-backed chair where she could sit and catch her breath. The Torok meanwhile, leaped on top and continued to glare at Erex.


    "Teach me how!" He demanded.


    Belisheri sighed. "This is no small thing you ask! Only female Morg, or Morgons, typically possess the capacity for sorcery. You risk your life, even your soul, without the gifts I was born with!"


    Erex shook his head. "I''ve studied many legends in my studies as a Skald. I would not be the first Morg to take on this path!"


    "Even if I wanted to teach you, it is not permitted. Morgons will execute us both!"


    "As if they don''t have ample cause to do so already? At least in this, Eros the all-father gave his blessing, and Queen Kari herself encouraged it, long before the Morgons started adding amendments to his mandates!"


    Belisheri snorted. This one was indeed stubborn. "All these legends, of Morg sorcerers... you remember how they ended yes?"


    Erex nodded. "It ended badly for all of them, but some of them accomplished great things!"


    "You do not understand the price you will pay for what you desire! Magic is not power manifested out of nothing, much as it might appear that way. It is simply alchemy of a higher form. Anything created with magic destroys something else. Can you truly accept that?"


    "It is the only thing I can accept for the loss of this eye!" He spat back.


    Belisheri smirked. "Why are Morg so often such great fools? Briax also desires great power, and like so many others, he''s convinced himself he''s more deserving of it. You both overestimate yourselves and your own worthiness."


    "What power does he seek?" Erex asked, regretting it immediately.


    Belisheri flashed a look of disapproval. "Shame on you, questioning your Skal like that?! Perhaps Kurg should hear of this?"


    "I did not mean it that way!" Erex argued with frustration.


    Belisheri leaned forward heatedly, already regaining some of her strength. "Yes you did! Do not lie to me Erex. Not here in my domain!"


    Erex swallowed, suddenly overcome by a deep feeling of dread pressing in around him that tingled against his skin like goosebumps. Something else was in here with them, a presence both invisible and evil. He knew it now with a certainty that chilled his blood.


    Belisheri smiled and leaned back. "I see the fear in your eyes Erex. You realize we aren''t alone don''t you? Very perceptive! This is a sign you may possess the gifts after all..."


    "What is it?"


    "A demon!"


    By instinct Erex took a half step towards the door before he forced himself to stop, summoning up every bit of courage he had left to remain put.


    "Why is it here?"


    "It''s here for me." She said matter of factly.


    "What does it want?" He asked worryingly.


    "It waits for you to leave us alone, as you might wait for someone to open a shutter to shoo away a fly."


    "...Why?"


    "Because I''d prefer privacy for what comes next. I suggest you take the hint Erex. We will speak again tomorrow."


    Erex left the tent immediately, that feeling of dread clinging to him as he hurried back towards the cook tent, heart pounding in his chest. Whatever was going on between Belisheri and a demon, he was sure he wanted no part of! Skalds and shamans were better educated than most Morg, and thus were sometimes aware of queen Kari''s connection to her Khimeran ancestors through demonic blood. Therefore, he supposed it shouldn''t be all that surprising that Belisheri should consort with demons the way queen Kari''s people did.


    Few facts were actually known about demons, but wicked tales of their deeds were common enough in Morg lore. Demons were cruel, violent and evil beyond measure. They relished in suffering and torment, reveled in acts of terror. Their deeds put even the most despicable and blood-thirsty villains to shame. Those unfortunate enough to lay eyes on them spoke of forms so hideous and terrible to behold it affected madness, blindness, sometimes both. Erex had no desire to loose his mind, and he very much wanted to keep the use of his one remaining eye!


    At this moment he truly did feel every bit the fool Belisheri claimed he was. It was easy enough to desire great power after all... to envy abilities like Belisheri''s, so long as one did not understand what was necessary to attain them. All he knew for certain at this moment was how grateful he was to be walking back towards his brothers in arms. That''s also why he was too distracted to notice Olaf slink up behind him.

 Chapter 4

    It was neigh on midnight as Ector Aterian paced the length of his great hall supported by fourteen stout stone columns arranged beside two hearths. Antique tapestries hung between the columns illuminated by several lamp chandeliers that also kept Ectors shadow largely in check.


    Ector dressed with more taste than might be expected from a young lord in his early twenties. All his garments were tailored towards tradition with only a few modern adornments, such as the broad silver livery collar new nobles wore these days. Ectors steps echoed into the open rafters of the high ceiling as he stared at his toes unconsciously counting tiles. There were exactly twenty three steps between the entry doors and the lords table with one thousand three hundred and seventy two tiles making up the floor.


    Awareness of these numbers came naturally to Ector. His tutors trained him at an early age to always examine and analyze his surroundings to keep his overly agitated mind focused. He was a fussy kid, prone to boredom and puerile outbursts stemming from loneliness as an only child. The walls of his manor might as well be the walls of his own mind, so familiar was he with every part of it.


    When the doors opened behind him there was a slight change in air pressure as the hearths sucked in the draft. Ector paused mid-step, hands clasped behind his back and cocked his head around to see his older cousin Eran grinning at him. Eran was half a head taller than Ector with the heavy build of a warrior knight dressed in a chain mail hauberk would with a heavy broadsword on his hip.


    "Can''t sleep cousin?" Eran asked.


    Ector shrugged and faced him as Eran continued. "Tomorrow you will be married!" To which Ector simply nodded, prepared for Erans meaty hands to grasp him by the arms and shake him playfully. "Damn it Ector does nothing get you excited?!"


    Ector was not put off by his older cousins familiarity. Eran always enjoyed trying to goad a reaction out of him ever since they met on the training grounds of their youth.


    "It''s good to see you cousin..." Ector said flashing the slimmest of smiles. "You look tired. Let us retire to my study where we can relax with a drink."


    Eran nodded and spoke as they walked. "I received news of your wedding two months ago, but the letter itself may have taken that long to find me. As you know I have been fighting to protect our families interests on Mgorongoro."


    "You look tan, and fit." Ector observed as they began to ascend a stairwell to the third floor of his tower. "How dangerous is Mgorongoro these days?"


    Eran harrumphed. "As dangerous as ever! The Mgorongorons are as fierce and unpredictable as wild beasts. And speaking of wild beasts, their actual wild beasts are truly to be feared. Have you ever seen a lion the size of a horse cousin?"


    "That would be something. I have been to Mgorongoro before but only so far as the port of Cremon, I did not venture into the interior." Ector replied.


    "It is the closest thing to Hell on Sion." Eran chuckled. "However I missed Chival, I appreciate this opportunity for a holiday."


    As they reached his study Ector paused to instruct the guard by the door to send for a servant before they entered. Ectors study was a square room twenty feet to a side with two tall glass windows and a small fireplace flanked by two high backed chairs before a heavy desk. Eran accepted a seat and immediately kept talking.


    "Tell me about your bride Ector? She is a Mordhel I hear, her name is Morfia yes?"


    "Correct, she is the daughter of Hrassus Mordhel, a prominant merchant lord who is also a brother of the Baron Mordhel. We started doing business together last year, which is when I first met Morfia."


    "And its taken this long before he gave you his blessing to marry her?" Eran asked with a wry grin.


    "Actually no,  I decided to marry her after just a few months, we really took a liking to each other right away."


    "Good for you cousin!" Eran said reaching over to grasp Ectors shoulder. Just then a knock was heard before a servant entered, her sleepy eyes downcast.


    "Get a fire going." Ector said before he kept speaking to Eran unconcerned about the extra ears. "For once in my life I feel blessed. I felt like I had never wanted anything before I met her. She truly is a wonder."


    Eran smiled. "Your lucky, many of us do not get to marry for love."


    "Nor could I, without working very hard to make her father happy first."


    "And what of our family?" Eran asked.


    Ector snorted. "That was the hardest thing. I was not aware of it but there were plans in place to marry me to someone else."


    "Who?"


    Ector waved his hand. "That doesn''t matter now. I got my way, and this marriage will be beneficial to both our families."Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "What does aunt Helvethia think?" Eran asked prompting a groan from Ector.


    "She has me at my wits end. She is staunchly against this, and forced me to use every chit and favor I had in counterbalance."


    "Is she here?"


    "She is occupying my mothers former chambers." Ector said icily.


    "I''m sorry Ector. I wish your parents were still alive to see your wedding." To which Ector nodded curtly clenching his jaw. By now there were flames in the hearth so Ector asked to servant to fetch wine.


    "Do you think Morfia will enjoy life here in Hacilar?"


    "I think so. Like me, she is an only child, and she also lost her mother to sickness. I know she has longed to have her own home away from her father, though he is a good man."


    "Do you share anything in common with her?" Eran asked but than quickly apologized. "I''m sorry that was a silly question."


    "Why should that be a silly question?"


    "Because cousin, she is just a woman and you are a lord."


    "Nonsense." Ector said matter-of-factly. "Women can be just as educated and wise as we are." Perhaps more so than you Ector did not say. "Morfia is both learned and talented. She will be of great help to me, as she has been to her father who raised her like the son he never had."


    The men paused as two goblets and an ewer of wine was placed on a small chair side table. "Leave us." Ector said filling a goblet for each of them.


    "This is fine wine. Parcean?" Eran asked and Ector nodded.


    "I spared no expense. There are thirty casks of it being served at the wedding tomorrow."


    "What else can I expect at the wedding?" Eran asked his eyes a twinkle.


    "Oh no, I know what that look means. You''ve been under the sun too long away from women." Ector scolded.


    "You wound me!" Eran said lifting a hand to his heart in mock concern. "I would never embarrass you at your own wedding."


    "That''s good to hear after what you did at cousin Luda''s wedding." Ector said.


    Eran nearly spit wine as he started to laugh. "You remember that? You were not even in your teens yet."


    "My memory of that event will not soon leave my mind. I had not yet lost my virginity but you were well on your way past yours. I remember you were late for the ceremony so they sent me to find you, and find you I did rutting with a camp-side tramp in my own tent."


    "I don''t suppose you ever told anyone about that?" Eran asked.


    Ector shook his head. "No, it helped that you gave me a gold piece to hold my tongue."


    Eran chuckled. "Bribes are not so cheap when we get older eh?" A thick knot popped loudly in the hearth distracting both men and set Ector on a new train of thought.


    "The wedding is being held at the great cathedral of St. Vespasian overseen by archbishop Bohemond."


    Eran raised his brows impressed. "It shall be very grand."


    Ector frowned. "It''s the last place I would choose." Eran opened his mouth to ask why but Ector raised his hand for pause. "Tell me Eran, do you know me to be religious?"


    Eran looked at Ector for a moment before he shifted his eyes into the flames pondering his response. Ector had always been dour and moody for the most part, impatient with those of lesser intelligence and largely unconcerned with what others thought about him or anything else. Yet this time, Eran sensed Ector was genuinely troubled by this question. "I have never known you to be a heathen, if that''s what your asking?"


    Ector shook his head. "That is an entirely different question. To be a heathen one must forsake the faith of Pentos. To be religious one must embrace it. I do neither."


    Eran shrugged. "You are not the first to take the middle road. I doubt the inquisition could afford to condemn everyone who did. Especially when they are a lord, so why the concern?"


    "It is the archbishop. I despise him and he probably has it in for me."


    Eran furrowed his brow. "I see. I have never met him, what can you tell me about him?"


    Ector paused to upend his goblet and fill it again. "Swear to me you will keep this conversation private. I have not spoken of this before to anyone."


    "Of course Ector."


    Ector took in a deep breath before he spoke. "Back when he was a bishop Bohemond used to take confession from my mother here in the manor. There is a hidden alcove here in our chapel. I hid there to eavesdrop and that''s when I realized Bohemond is everything a priest should not be. Insincere, arrogant, aloof, disrespectful, crude, and above all greedy.


    He was always trying to succor donations from my mother while my father was away. After they died he poached many of their business partners here in Hacilar choking funds away from this manor. I locked horns with him when I returned wrestling back what belonged to me ever since.


    The man is my nemesis. A scheming, grasping disgrace to his church."


    "Strong words. Sacrilegious even, I can see why you swore me to secrecy. But what do you fear he may do at your wedding? Surrounded by everyone who supports you in a very public ceremony?"


    Ector sighed. "I do not know. I admit it does not seem rational. But I feel a warning deep in my gut that has kept me out of his cathedral these many years."


    "Did you have any say in holding the wedding there?"


    "Very little. You know better than to ask cousin. A high profile marriage between two noble families is a serious affair no less diplomatic than a formal truce. It has to be given credence by the highest religious authority in the land. Anything less would be unacceptable to our families.


    I could outmaneuver Bohemond if I married Morfia in Estremadura, but that would be a reverse in custom and the gossip would reduce our families to the laughingstock of Chival."


    Eran nodded. "Aye you have the right of it."


    Ector upended his goblet again and sighed. "I may yet be a heathen Eran if my prayers are answered and a meteor descends on the dawn obliterating St. Vespasians cathedral and the archbishop before the ceremony."


    Eran smirked. "You do yourself no favors uttering such things. Come the morning you must play the role of a religious man. Your future depends on it."


    "A necessary evil." Ector said refilling his goblet. "I tell you Eran I would almost rather elope with Morfia to a distant land were it not so cowardly. There are two demons vying for my fate cousin. One is love, the other pride."


    For a minute neither spoke as the flames whispered and spit like the mouth of hell mocking them. Finally Eran asked the question Ector knew he would.


    "How can I help?"


    "Just remember what I told you. If something happens tomorrow it is my belief that Bohemond is behind it." Ector answered.


    "I don''t understand? If something happens..."


    "...It will already be too late." Ector interrupted finishing Erans sentence. "I realize that, but it is never too late for revenge."


    Eran nodded but said nothing, and Ector cocked his head in the peculiar way he did when he was about to ask an obdurate question but then seemed to think better of it. "We should get some rest. I have wine enough in me now to manage sleep."

 Chapter 5

    Olaf''s dagger slipped under Erex''s chin with practiced smoothness. Erex didn''t even have a chance to suck in a breath before its edge pressed tight against his throat. Olaf''s other hand was already gripped tight around his wrist, preventing him from even thinking about reaching for anything. Erex was terrified, wondering at the identity of this cutthroat? Olaf let the fear linger for half a moment before he said.


    "I want you to remember this moment well Erex. I want you to understand how unfair it feels to be harmed by one of your brothers!" Olaf breathed bitterly into his ear. Erex clenched his jaw as he recognized the voice.


    Olaf continued. "I see what you are doing, plying favors from the sorceress and the skal, but if you think favoritism grants you protection you are mistaken!"


    "Why are you doing this? I have not harmed you?!" Erex gasped with confusion.


    "You and I do not think alike. You are more like Briax, our so-called Skal. You choose to ignore our ways when it suites your own ambition! Someday I am sure; one of you will wish to harm me, if only to silence my objections!"


    Erex swallowed. Olaf was frighteningly certain of his views, and yet, argument itself might be his only hope to save himself.


    "How is is cutting a half-blind-Skalds throat a fitting challenge for a warrior?!" He croaked.


    Erex felt the razors edge of Olaf''s dagger cut into his neck ever-so-slightly as he tensed, wetting the steel with his blood.


    "Only warriors deserve a warrior''s death!" Olaf hissed. "Any Morg that seeks the power of sorcery is a coward and a deceiver! I speak this warning only once. On that day you would think to strike at me, remember that I spared you first!" Olaf says slowly sliding his dagger back away from Erex''s neck, suddenly stepping away into the downpour without looking back.


    Erex watched him go, suddenly too weary to continue drinking at the cook tent. All he wanted now was sleep and the chance to forget this horrible night ever happened. Thus he made his way directly to his tent and quickly passed out.


    Kurg stomped around the camp just before dawn calling for morning assembly. It always mystified many how the helmed hulk rested so little; yet somehow always appeared each morning possessed with a cruel eagerness to kick his boot into any warrior who didn''t rise to his orders.


    Erex groaned in that first moment of consciousness when he half-expected both his eyes to open and see. Fresh stitches and a pounding skull rudely reminded him he was still half-blind and far from healed. Somehow he managed to summon the strength to stumble out into the pre-dawn twilight. Around them the rain had lessened to a mere sprinkle, yet there were still thick clouds looming above them.


    "RISE WARRIORS!" Kurg shouted in his raspish deep-grunting voice. Rise they did, long-faced and dreary, nervously awaiting further surprises to come on this first new day in enemy land. As they stepped into line Erex heard a shout from the watchman posted nearby.


    "KAPTEN APPROACHING!"


    Weary faces shifted into confused expressions as their ships Kapten and his second marched behind the half-dozen Chivalan slaves he kept on board to work the oars. Each slave carried the remains of their supplies from the long ship upon their backs, the same supplies they were supposed to safeguard for the return voyage?!


    "What''s this?!" The warriors grumbled to each other before Briax emerged from his tent to address them.


    "WARRIORS! Today is our first chance to try something new..." Briax began, stepping down the line gesturing at the approaching slaves. "These slaves will bait our enemies into an ambush."


    "They''ll flee given half-the-chance! They are all Chivalan-born." Olaf scoffed stating the obvious.


    Erex felt his headache worsen the moment Olaf''s voice rang out, settling into a throbbing pain that kept tempo with his own heartbeat. From the corner of his eye, he still noticed Belisheri''s emergence from her tent, looking far more refreshed and at ease than the rest. Her Torok perched upon her shoulder as she strolled over, standing beside Kurg.


    Erex noted that her eyes did not seek him out or seek to acknowledge him in any way, and that was fine by him. Erex wasn''t so sure he wanted anything to do with her powers anymore, given how she met with demons in their midst!


    Erex turned instead to watch the slaves approach, fresh whip-marks upon their skin. Each of their faces looked angry and determined; far different than the expression of abject servitude during their long voyage. Yes, Olaf was right; these battered captives were keen to escape. How could they not be, walking now on their own native soil after so many years of forced-labor abroad?


    Erex wouldn''t be surprised if they already attempted to escape on the march up here. Yes they were chained, but they still outnumbered the Kapten and his second three to one. As they drew closer he realized their number was down. There were only five slaves; one must''ve made a break for it after all.


    Briax notes this, frowning as Hax, the Kapten, marches up before him and takes a knee. "Kapten Hax! You are one slave short!"


    "Aye skal, that''s true." The Kapten admits plainly. "He was whispering to the others in their native tongue and as I raised my lash to his back and he lunged for me with a sharpened shard of wood!"


    "And this warranted death? A simple beating should have sufficed."


    "Beggin-yer-pardon skal, but my gut feeling was the rest of em would''ve been on top of us quick if we didn''t put him down!"


    Briax shook his head. "Disobeying orders because of a ''gut feeling'' is not permissible."


    The Kapten swallowed. "Skal, I..." The Kapten starts to say an instant before Briax''s fist strikes his chin and sends him sprawling. In fairness anyone set on one knee would have been easily toppled by such a blow. Erex expects this is just another bit of show put on by the Skal for the sake of keeping the warriors in line. This sort of discipline was what they expected after all.


    Meanwhile the Kapten''s second immediately lashes out with his whip at the slaves ensuring none take any pleasure watching their Kapten take a blow.


    Briax raises his hand after a few strikes from the bloody whip. "Enough! Rise Kapten! See those supplies added to the stores in the cook tent and report back for further orders!"


    "Aye Skal..." Hax answered rising from the mud.


    As  he and the slaves move over to the cook tent Briax searched the eyes of the warriors, eyes steady with all seriousness.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "WARRIORS! I spoke of a change in tactics necessary to achieve an end no Morg has accomplished before; a colony for ourselves away from Morg Isle!" Briax repeated from his earlier address on the beach, pausing to let that absurd statement steep in their minds again. This time there was no outspoken challenge from the likes of Morul. Briax kneels down and rips a tuft of grass from the ground, clumps of dirt still clinging to the roots.


    "Look how rich and fertile this soil is, absent all the grit and black sand that poisons ours! Imagine how easy it would be to raise crops and feed livestock here." He gestures with one hand. "Think of the forest less than a day''s march due east. Imagine how fine a home you could build from such excellent timber."


    Another warrior named Hol speaks up. "Lord Skal, the population of this island outnumbers our whole island by at least ten to one! How do you expect us, a single raiding-party, to preserve a colony here?"


    "That is why I spoke of the need to make allies here who can shelter us. Remember also that we are blessed with the aid of a great sorceress!" Briax gestures to Belisheri, who nods deferentially as he continues.


    "Chivalans outlawed  arcane magic nearly a thousand years ago after the fall of their Khimeran overlords! There are none here now who can match Belisheri''s brand of magic! I know more about these lands, customs and history than they do ours. This gives us tactical advantage and the advantage of initiative! Yet most importantly, I also know of an ancient hidden power that will make their vastly superior numbers account for nothing! A power that shall soon be ours to wield!" He states with a passionately clenched fist.


    Erex felt his attention hooked by this last quizzical statement. ''A great and ancient power?'' Is this what Belisheri was eluding too earlier in her tent? He wonders, noting how her eyes fixated for a moment on his as if to say, ''see I told you so''. Briax continued.


    "I speak of awesome artifacts of the Org race! Items of such destructive force they could fell whole armies and level entire cities!" He says, voice rising to a fervor pitch. "These artifacts belonged to Eros'' own ancestors! A thousand years later, we Morg have a chance to claim them in his honor!" He states shaking his clenched first in a show of determination and pride.


    Erex was so entranced by Briax''s oratory skill in that moment he even forgot the throbbing pain of his aching skull. Org artifacts! Skalds knew hints of their power mentioned by Eros in some of his private lectures many centuries ago. Queen Kari was rumored to know the artifacts quite well, yet her secrets were only shared in private with her own offspring and her cult of sorceresses.


    If Briax indeed spoke the truth, such weapons could change the fate of the Morg race forever! They could colonize any land they wished. Who would dare oppose them? Yet for all its wonder, the possibility of these artifacts attached very uncertain questions. Where were they hidden? How would they find them? Who was guarding them?


    Meanwhile, the warriors responded to Briax''s promise of glory and destruction with raised fists of their own. This was a plan that finally started to show sense to them, never mind how outrageous. Erex had to admire how cleverly Briax transformed uncertainty into enthusiasm. He was a rare leader indeed.


    Briax continued. "Until which time that we possess these artifacts, we must choose our targets carefully and minimize risks! W must avoid being cornered at all costs. We may never get another chance at this."


    Hol makes another inquiry. "Lord Skal, where are these artifacts?"


    "They are carefully hidden by a reclusive order of monks loyal to the ruling noble family of this region, the Mordhel family. Our search for them will begin at a small monastery on the boundaries of the CrookedTree forest."


    The warriors grinned with delight. The church of Pentos was decadent beyond measure; their priests often wealthier than O''Skals. Such a monastery would hold many riches!


    Briax continued, preemptively cautioning against any rash behavior. "The monastery will not be easy to attack. It is built much like a fortress. We must conceal our approach to catch them off guard. The first step in this plan involves an ambush of their regular supply wagons that pass along this road twice a month."


    Hol makes an observation with a wary look towards Kurg. "It is not my intention to cast doubt on your plan lord Skal, but church property is often defended by well-armed clerics. Holy warriors like that are known to wreak havoc on raiding parties larger than ours."


    "Quite true..." Briax acknowledges. "We''ll lure the Clerics into an ambush with the help of our slaves. If we strike at them up close, with complete surprise, neither their armor, nor their spells, should keep our axes at bay!"


    The warriors growled and cheered but Erex could not help but notice the frown of dismay on Belisheri''s face. Though indeed she stood beside the Skal in a position of support, her expression was anything but confident. Even so, Briax would clearly accept nothing less than total commitment as he said.


    "We must arrange an ambush so convincing they won''t expect an attack until it''s too late. The success of this encounter depends on that more than outright bravado. Each of you must remain still and silent as a stone until the order to strike is given, is that understood?!"


    "YES SKAL!" The warriors shouted in unison.


    Briax flashed a rare smile. "There is much preparation to be done. I want two pairs of you on scout duty watching the road in both directions, though the supplies are likely to come from the south. The rest of you will go about digging shallow graves near the road and fashion camouflaged covers for these graves out of roots, twigs, brush and shrubs. They must be convincingly crafted so our enemies won''t realize what''s hidden underneath until you''re close enough to chop their ankles off!"


    "YES SKALl!" They shouted again.


    "See that it is done by sundown and I will permit an extra keg of Kvasa for supper!" Briax promised prompting a round of rowdy cheers.


    Kurg shouted at everyone to disperse, selecting four of the fastest runners to serve as outlying night watchmen. Belisheri immediately returned to her tent before Briax approached Erex and asked him to enter his tent for a private discussion.


    Erex felt his headache return to a painful state of normality as he followed the Skal inside.


    Briax gestured to a seat at his small table. "Please sit!"


    Erex did as he was bid.


    "Would you care for some Kvasa?" Briax asked offering him a taste of their bitter domestic brew, made from fermented black bread flavored with tree sap, bitter berries and tart fruits.


    "I prefer rum." Erex said surprising himself with a bold tongue, still somewhat delirious from the throbbing around his ruined eye. Briax regarded the ailing skald with sympathy.


    "Fortunate to have an option! Much as I admit the taste is easier to stomach, Rum is expensive to come by. Vog must have invested a considerable sum in a personal stockpile before we set sail. Take care you are not spoiled on that pirates drink!"


    "I hardly feel spoiled." Erex muttered flatly.


    Briax nodded knowingly. "I am sorry for your wound. Belisheri asked to make amends did she not?"


    "She did."


    "I also heard about what you asked for in return. I commend you for your boldness."


    "You do?"


    "Of course, so far as I am concerned we are all here to challenge tradition for the sake of our own destiny and the future of our race. Do you feel you will be satisfied with your arrangement with the sorceress?"


    "It is too soon to say for certain."


    "I should tell you, Kurg strangled that hideous creature shortly after it maimed you. Yet now I see it alive and well? A curious thing; and yet, much as we might both wish to see it dead, Belisheri and I have also come to an understanding. I want your assurance you won''t hold a grudge against her if this pact between you doesn''t develop to your liking."


    Erex took a deep breath. He was far from certain how he should feel about Belisheri, yet the hate he felt last night was replaced now with equal parts apprehension and fascination. Erex swallowed and agreed. "I will hold no grudge."


    Briax smiled. "Good! I also need your help to keep up moral among the warriors." By his tone, Briax was clear he was only asking, not demanding.


    Erex took a moment to consider his reply. "To be honest lord Skal, I am not sure I fully understand your plan? Why did you not speak of these artifacts sooner?"


    "I waited until the time was right to boost morale before our first battle."


    "You are sure these artifacts exist?"


    "It would have been folly to attempt this venture in the first place if I didn''t." Briax said taking a bitter swig of his Kvasa. "You must agree most of us had a very poor future back home. I say it''s better to risk our lives here and now for freedom; rather than assured despair beneath the heel of the Morgons!"


    Erex pondered this statement for a long moment and replied. "To be totally honest lord Skal, so long as Kurg is killing anyone who challenges your ideas while you harshly discipline anyone that disobeys your orders, this doesn''t feel much like freedom to me."


    Briax smirked and clapped Erex on the shoulder.


    "Exactly!" Braix states matter-of-factly, prompting a confused stare from the skald. "Parceans have a saying, ''all means lead to an end, so long as the ends justify the means.'' I make no apologies for my methods so long as our goals remain undone. However, the very fact you acknowledge the hypocrisy in my orders demonstrates the reason for being here. I was wise to choose you as our skald Erex."

 Chapter 6

    Lord Ector woke to the sound of his chamberlains distinctive knock. He groaned and rubbed his forehead before bidding him to enter. Sutler Montdider was dressed in his finest formal garments reminding Ector that that today was a very special occasion.


    "Good morning my lord." He said crisply snapping his fingers a bit too loudly for Ectors liking ushering in a line of servants who carried buckets of hot water for a bath. Behind them Eran appeared in the doorway.


    "Come spar with me cousin?" He said appearing far fresher than Ector felt.


    "Are you joking? What would that accomplish?" Ector asked sarcastically as Sutler turned to square his shoulders as if he meant to bar Eran from entry. Smiling, Eran moved the chamberlain aside as easily as he might draw aside a curtain stepping past him in one long stride to reach down and grab a bucket. Ector knew what was coming but his pride prevented him from raising his arms and cringing as Eran drenched him.


    Bewildered gasps erupted from the chamberlain and the servants, all pale faced and mortified. Ector raised his hands as Sutler drew in a breath to call the guards.


    "Leave us!" He croaked. After Sutler and the servants obeyed Ector stared at Eran. "Give me a moment to dress and I will be down shortly." Ector said steaming. Eran nodded and left without another word.


    Ector ignored everyone he passed he stalked unto the large courtyard behind the manor dimly lit by the dawning sun. Eran was waiting with a blade held against his shoulder chatting with Hage Brogo, Ectors Kapten of the guard.


    Ector rarely ever set foot in the drill square so his guards demonstrated surprise quickly coming to attention as he approached. Hage barely had time to step away from his conversation as Ector grabbed a blunted practice blade and swung it at Eran without preamble. The ring of steel ushered in the dawn as Ectors overhanded chop was casually deflected.


    "Oho! Do you mistake me for a piece of wood?" Eran chuckled as Ector struck at him again and again smashing against his every deflection.


    "Than don''t act like one!" Ector huffed.


    "So be it." Eran said striking back at Ector with a bone crushing swing that numbed Ectors wrists vibrating the steel in his hands.


    Ector dodged to his left on the balls of his feet forcing Eran to step back as he hacked at his knee. The next few minutes passed as a blur to Ector sparring with all his guile against Erans strength and experience.


    A crowd quickly formed around them cheering at every bruise they dealt each other until lady Helvethias shrill voice cut into the melee.


    "Stop this at once!"


    Ector glared at her panting with exertion but inwardly sighed with relief. He was already exhausted, more accustomed to wielding a pen than a sword. He dropped his blade to the ground and reached out to clasp Erans forearm in the customary signal for friendship between comrades in arms.


    "I suppose there was a meaning to this?" Ector asked quietly.


    Eran grinned. "I''m helping you."


    "How? By clobbering me in front of my guards?"


    "By getting your blood going. I would not have your wits dulled with wine and lack of sleep this morning. Not after everything we spoke of last night."


    Ector nodded gratefully. "You have the right of it, but never disrespect me again in front of my household."


    "Are you quite finished?" Aunt Helvethia scolded as she approached. Neigh on seventy she acted every bit the hardhearted widow who raised young orphan Ector out of duty and obligation.


    "Aunt Helvethia." Both men said respectfully.


    She spoke first at Ector. "I should have known you would invite Eran. Having him arrive in the dead of night and this little stunt makes him too noteworthy to send away." She swiveled her head at Eran. "While your here you will be on your best behavior or I will find duties for you somewhere worse than Mgorongoro." Than she turned again at Ector. "Walk with me Ector."


    As soon as they were out of earshot she spoke up again. "You may think you will be rid of me after today but you would be mistaken. I made you and I can unmake you just as quickly. Wife or no wife."


    Ectors fists clenched at his sides as he restrained himself from reaching out to strangle her like he envisioned a thousand times before.


    "I owe you nothing! This is my household by birthright!" Ector hissed through clenched teeth.


    "That is a misconception I allowed you to believe. The truth is you are a bastard fathered by a lowborn commoner."


    Ector stopped in place and stared at her with shock and scorn. "What are you saying?" He asked immediately regretting the question. He did not want to hear her stories. She was insane, senile, delusional. She should be locked away as a mad woman.


    "Don''t look at me like I''ve lost my mind. It is not so uncommon for a noble lady like Elana to have other lovers, especially when Henry proved impotent. Some men would rather be deceived than believe they could never have a son."


    "Your lying!" Ector said suddenly aware his throat was dry.


    "Am I? Saying that does not make it so. You just demonstrated you do not possess Henry''s fighting prowess so I pray you are smarter than this or you are also unworthy of your mothers womb."


    "Do you have any proof?" Ector spat.


    "That''s a better question. The proof is your real father still lives and the resemblance is unmistakable. He even bears the same mole on his left cheek. But while you''re trying to convince yourself that this is an elaborate hoax I devised searching the land for your older doppelganger you should know we are not the only ones who know about this."


    "Who else knows?"


    "Someone who knew your mother I expect. She confided this to me on her final days. She also made me swear to take this secret to my grave."


    "And yet she told you and you are telling me. Why? I fail to see how it is to my benefit if she wanted me to be happy living out a farce?!"


    Helvethia raised a hand as if to slap Ector but smoothly reached up to adjust her hair instead. Ector was not sure if it was something in his eyes that warned her but was glad for it. "Elana loved your father..."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "Which one?"


    "Both, but Henry was already dead by then so which one do you think I''m talking about?"


    "I don''t know you haven''t told me his name."


    "Nor will I, not yet anyway. But pay attention I am doing you a favor trying to explain this to you."


    "Why? Why do me any favors? A minute ago you were threatening to unmake me, presumably because you think I am a weak, selfish, stupid, whore-son undeserving of the noble identity I''ve had since birth."


    "Do not imply such things about your mother, as for the rest I care not what you think I think. I do not love you. Now can I finish or are you still feeling sorry for yourself?"


    Ector growled.


    "I''ll take that as a yes. Now the reason Elana confided her secret in me is the same reason I am telling you. She was worried about you, specifically on this day. For whoever else knew this secret said they would not permit you to marry and someday having children bearing Henry''s family name."


    Ector scoffed incredulously. "And how do you feel about that?"


    Helvethia rolled her eyes. "What did I just say?"


    Ector grunted in annoyance. "Fine. Can you at least tell me how my mother knew this secret, without knowing who, and yet knew enough to warn you?"


    "I cannot say. There are means people use to make things known to others anonymously. Someone warned Elana they would do something to you if this day came and she had no choice but to relay that warning to me when she knew she was dying."


    "And you waited until the last minute to tell me?"


    "You should be thanking me you ungrateful wretch. I did my part. I made it possible for you to have this life and make this day happen. That I chose to wait to tell you about this threat until you realized whats at stake is my final favor to you."


    "So what now? Are you going to try and stop me?"


    "That depends, and don''t flatter yourself. If I wanted to stop you I could."


    Ector scratched his brow. "I do not care to be threatened."


    "Who does?"


    Ector glared and crossed his arms. "I am no coward. I will not be dissuaded from my plans with warnings whispered thirteen years ago. Nor will I be cowed by blackmail. I am Lord Ector Astafur. I hope you and this man claiming to be my father follow each other quickly to the grave."


    "Well than. Get dressed. Its your funeral."


    Ectors mood was sour as his servants dressed him in garb worthy of a prince. He was quite angry with his situation unsure of who or what to doubt. The warning in his gut was turning into a serious ache. And Morfia, poor Morfia, she did not deserve this. The thought that she may be unknowingly putting herself in danger for his sake made him even more upset. But calling off the wedding was not fair to either of them. A lady like Morfia was expected to marry a noble lord who could provide the lifestyle she was accustomed. Ector endeavored to be worthy of a lady like her all his life.


    He was proud of his accomplishments, which were his own despite what his aunt believed. This manor was on its way to ruin when he returned from Helvethias'' estate to manage it. Overgrown with ivy, only a few guards and caretakers living on the premises. Most of its heirlooms and valuables pilfered. No staff, no servants, goods or supplies.


    Whats worse, former business partners of the manor seemed to forget having credit with his parents and fewer still were willing to extend any credit to him. All Ector had was his title and highly depreciated value of the manor itself to bargain with. But for that he was happy. Happier to be on his own for the first time in his life.


    The first year was the hardest, having little experience making deals or breaking them. He was a small fish contending with established merchants, lords and criminals. As a noble he had access to social circles forever denied common born entrepreneurs but they had means of their own with back alley deals and smuggling. Ectors low born counterparts were able to shirk the kings taxes with the support of the underworld so Ector reached out to find a silent partner willing to do so for him because those methods made the most profit.


    Ectors first partner was killed by other low born associates who did not wish to share and the second was jailed breaking laws Ector suggested he break. But he did not feel guilty about either of them. Pawns were meant to be sacrificed in the game of lords.


    "You look regal sire." Sutler commented as Ector stepped from his chambers.


    "I should hope so. Arrange a meeting with Zoras tonight."


    "Tonight?" Sutler questioned keeping his tone neutral.


    "I should not have to repeat myself."


    "Yes my lord." Sutler said clearly nonplussed. Zoras was Ectors current silent partner in the underworld. A man of evil reputation. No good ever game from dealings with him and Sutler was concerned about whatever required Ector to slip away on his wedding night.


    The dining room was noisy and crowded by Ectors elder relatives who raised a cheer as he entered.


    "There he is, the fighting groom!" Shouted uncle Arthur, a veteran knight who served with Henry. Ector spent many hours by the fire listening to Arthur''s stories as a child. Ector smiled and slowly made his way to the head of the table pausing to share a few words with whomever grabbed his sleeve. Breakfast was much the same as the dinner feast last night. Lots of conversation and good humor among some of the most powerful members of the Astafur family.


    The baron himself was not here of course, as a lesser lord of a single manor Ector did not warrant that much respect. But he would attend the wedding itself, and he would present a wedding gift which was more than he would do for some. After seating himself Ector partook of the gluttony at the table eating a variety of pastries, meats and cheeses but shying away from eggs. He had a serious bout of sickness as a child eating bad eggs which led to a life long aversion. For drink he had honeyed milk.


    "Quiet please! Quiet!" Arthur said taking a stand a few seats down from Ector. "I would like to make a toast." Some good nurtured jabs and jokes followed Arthur''s announcement for the old knight was fond of making toasts and hearing himself talk in general.


    "My brother Henry died from battle with the Anghouls fifteen years ago. He was leading a charge on a formation of their slave infantry crossing a bridge over the river Luan near the town of Dunstone. The road passed through a wood and hidden in the trees were Anghoul skirmishes who let loose on us as we passed. Henry had four arrows in him when he fell but his orders were clear, the charge must ram home at any cost.


    I remember shouting Henry''s name as we bore down on our foe. Some of the cowards leaped from the bridge in terror before they were trampled, lanced or cut down. When our momentum was finally stalled by the greater mass of enemies before us the whore-son skirmishers moved in to flank us and finish off Henry and the other fallen knights like jackals.


    I do not know how long we fought to hold that bridge but the horses hooves were wet with guts and they were climbing over piles of their own corpses to come at us in waves. Then just when I thought we might be beaten Henry''s war horn blared loudly boosting our moral and buckling what was left of theirs. Minutes later they were in full retreat.


    Only then could I lower my sword and return to Henry''s side." Arthur turned to look at Ector directly. "Your father fought like a lion Ector, even unhorsed and wounded. He faced down seven of those heathen cannibals before they could eat his heart and might have lived to tell the tale himself if the Anghouls did not putrefy their arrows with rotting meat and feces before every battle.


    Henry loved you Ector as only a father could. But I have watched you grow into a man and share his pride for you. So let me blow his horn for you in his honor." Arthur raised Henry''s war horn to his lips mustering a mighty blow for an old man. It''s deep tone echoed loudly through the dining hall for several moments followed by even longer moments of poignant silence and quiet weeping.


    Ector rose from his seat and stepped over to his uncle who reverently offered him the war horn. "Let this be my wedding gift to you Ector. It is not bejeweled or capped in silver as others might be. But for you and me, and this family, its value is priceless.


    Ector nodded, taking the war horn in his hands before raising it above his head for everyone to see prompting more cheers and loud applause. Ector threw his arms around his uncle in a loving embrace feeling very well appreciated as a part of this family.


    As he broke his hold around uncle Arthur Ectors eyes sought those of aunt Helvethia seated at the other end of the table. His gaze locked with hers in quiet challenge stating without words that he belonged here and he hated her.


    For a moment he thought he glimpsed a flash of remorse behind her mask of indifferent contempt but when she stood to raise her glass as if to make her own speech Ectors heart sank. He knew her words could ruin everything. She smiled at him then in her iciest fashion and her unspoken message was just as clear. I will always hold power over you and I am not going anywhere.


    Helvethia did not get a chance to speak for she was preempted by Sutler who opened the doors raising his voice to speak over the din.


    "Lords and ladies, honored guests, the commander of the city guard has arrived to escort us to St. Vespasians cathedral."