ã€ŠSpring of Black Flowers [NECROMANCER EPIC FANTASY]ã€‹


 Chapter 1

    The sun had risen well above the horizon by the time the meltwater stream they followed was joined by another, pooling deep enough to splash above their ankles. The white lion of Aldrimar stretched itself across the Henric¡¯s back, his black cloak wrapped tight around him against the morning chill. ¡°How much further?¡± He muttered to himself. His uncles had woken him well before dawn, and they¡¯d been walking since.

    Zak stopped short, and for a second Henric thought a mistake had been made. Instead, he and Samael locked eyes. ¡°Here?¡± Zak asked.

    Samael shook his head. ¡°Around the bend. I marked us a spot ahead.¡±

    ¡°All the way out here?¡± Henric asked. ¡°Or is that part of the initiation?¡±

    That got a laugh from his uncle. ¡°I stopped here on my way back from the city and crossed over. It¡¯s a good spot.¡±

    Zak was the older of the two, almost ten years Henric¡¯s senior, and in many ways his role model. He wore his sandy hair cut short, though he¡¯d had a week¡¯s growth strapping his chin. ¡°Here is as good as anywhere. Right where I thought it¡¯d be.¡±

    Samael, Henric¡¯s younger uncle and only five years his elder, rolled his eyes and turned to Henric, ¡°Do you remember what the Book said? Do you remember the words?¡±

    Of course he did. He had been learning them for years, preparing for this moment. Still, Henric had not slept the night before, nervous. Usually it was a boy¡¯s father, not his uncles that led his initiation, but Gareth Aldimar was far away assisting in the King¡¯s campaign to turn back the hordes of Gors threatening his lands. Father would tell him to be brave right now, and so Henric nodded.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Samael dug in his pack for a small bundle of chalk. He took out a stick, and began to mark out old runes on tree trunks and stones in a rough square around them. At each point, he said the old prayer as he drew on the accompanying marks. When he was done, he joined the other two in the stream, and asked ¡°Are we ready?¡±

    They both nodded.

    Henric thought back to the afternoons in the Lord¡¯s Study of Zaksburg with his father, sitting at the old desk. The walls were lined with the old books collected by Aldrimars over the generations, but there was no other book like this one. Bound in simple brown leather, Zakaran, the first Aldrimar for whom Henric¡¯s uncle was namesake, had kept journal filled with secrets and heresies in the eyes of the Congregation.

    Henric recalled the passage about Zakaran¡¯s first walk in Death, and the words he had spoken to cross over. ¡°Muzum ala thebeth.¡±

    His uncles nodded. They began to repeat the words over and over, and soon Henric began to feel a the water tugging at his feet, urging him to move. He listened, staying with the words as he began to feel the forest around him slipping away, the sounds of the world disappearing until it was only their voices chanting and the intensifying sound of running water.

    A few moments later, the two brothers stopped their chant. Henric continued, eyes shut, twice more before he noticed his uncles stopped.

    ¡°Open your eyes, Henric,¡± said Samael. ¡°Don¡¯t be alarmed, we¡¯ve crossed over.¡±

    He saw grey. Everything had disappeared, along with the warmth of the spring morning. Instead, he saw that the stream had stretched out in all directions, a thick fog rising off the water. The sky above was black as starless night. The water was cold filled with debris of fallen leaves and branches, but the current was strong and Henric could feel it tugging at his ankles, urging him to follow. When he looked at his two uncles, their faces seemed both there and not. He found himself taking a few steps downstream before Zak caught him in one strong arm and held him back.

    ¡°Careful now!¡± said Zak.

    ¡°Something is calling to me down river.¡±

    ¡°Ignore it, Henric.¡±

    Henric tried. The harder he worked to put it out of his mind, the more the feeling tugged at him, until he could almost hear something shouting to him from beyond the fog downstream.

    ¡°What¡¯s down there?¡± he asked, frightened.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way to know without going to look, but we won¡¯t be doing that,¡± said Zak. He noticed his nephew¡¯s confused expression, and continued, ¡°This is the River of Souls, Henric, Death. The current gets stronger further you go, and it is easy to get caught in it. Even we could not help you there if you should get swept away in it. And that¡¯s not even mentioning the denizens. No. It is too dangerous for your first time in the River.¡±

    He remembered the denizens from the Book. Creatures that dwelt in the bends and pools of the River, consuming souls unlucky enough to be swept to them. Though nobody had seen one in generations the Book went on at length about the dangers of denizens when in Death, and described the three methods to deal with one, prayers for binding, banishing, or breaking. He had only learned the very first of them, the simple binding. The boy let that sink in, then took a deep breath. Maybe I¡¯m not as ready for this as I thought.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    He nodded.

    After he had composed himself, Henric took another deep breath and called aloud, repeating the old words written in Zakaran¡¯s old book. ¡°Lady of the River, I beg you hear my prayer! I ask your favor, that I may always work to preserve your River¡¯s flow against those who would profane it.¡± He had shouted it, as loud and as deep as his fourteen year old self could muster, and noticed the fog shift a bit around them. He looked to his uncles, and they seemed impressed. He had done well, and surely the Lady of the River would bless him.

    Again the fog shifted, but little else happened over the sound of the river. He waited there for a few minutes before giving up, and turning back to his uncles. ¡°What was that?¡± asked Zak.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Henric, abashed. ¡°I thought I did everything right¡­¡±

    ¡°No, not you,¡± said Zak. ¡°Did you feel that Samael?¡±

    A worried look crossed Samael¡¯s face as he nodded. ¡°Something moved the fog.¡±

    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± asked Henric.

    ¡°Of course,¡± said Samael. He and Zak shared a glance. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    As Henric took a step back towards his uncles, he felt something grab his back and suddenly flung him backwards into the water. It was much deeper than he had expected, and he struggled for a moment to get his feet beneath him. When he stood the water was almost to his waist and the current threatened to sweep him off his feet again. Distantly, he could hear his uncles shouting his name somewhere out of sight. He put his hands up to shout back, but a rumbling laugh came from behind him, low and menacing.

    ¡°A boy,¡± it said, sending shivers down Henric¡¯s spine. He spun to see a dark figure in the fog behind him. It was thin and tall and cloaked in fog, but the stench of it, like rotted flesh filled Henric¡¯s nose and almost made him gag. ¡°A living one! My lucky day.¡±

    Henric tried to back away, but when he tried to lift his feet the current almost knocked him off balance. He didn¡¯t dare running. ¡°S- s- s- stay away,¡± he stammered, trying to visualize a loop of light encircling the shifting figure. That only made the denizen laugh.

    ¡°Why would I do that, boy?¡± even though he couldn¡¯t see it, he distinctly got the impression the thing was smiling. ¡°You¡¯re my way out of this place.¡± The fog rushed up to meet him, he threw his arms up over his face.

    Somewhere behind him he heard someone shouting, ¡°Henric!¡±

    ¡°Over here!¡± he shouted.

    ¡°Duck!¡°

    He did, and felt his hair standing on end as a blast of purple-white energy surged past him. The creature hissed as it shifted out of the way. Henric didn¡¯t wait for someone to tell him to run.

    He remembered what the Book had said about returning to Life. He focused on the slowed beating of his own heart, hearing it and clinging to it, and using it almost as a rope to pull himself against the current.

    Zak came splashing forward, blade in hand, Samael a few steps behind him. Samael¡¯s hand glowed a brilliant violet light, and with a commanding shout of ¡°Vade!¡± the light burst forth from his hand in another blast like before. Henric was too busy running to see the creature shift its form out of the way, and then change its form into a huge water serpent and lunge after them. Zak slashed at the thing with his sword as it tried to slide past him, cutting it deeply and making the denizen stop and let out a horrible cry of pain. Once Henric had run past them, his uncles raced after him towards the shallows, towards Life. Each of them concentrated on their still beating hearts, leading them back to their living bodies.

    ***

    Henric¡¯s head snapped backwards, and then forwards as he awoke, sending him face first into the bubbling stream. His nose hit a rock in the bed, and he noticed red dripping with the water off his face as he stood. Samael helped him up.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    He nodded. Or shivered. Possibly trembled. Just the thought of the denizen scared him. ¡°I think so. What was that thing?¡±

    ¡°Specifically? I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Samael. ¡°I didn¡¯t get a close enough look.¡±

    ¡°I did, and I¡¯m still not sure what that was,¡± said Zak. ¡°But it stunk.¡±

    Henric noticed the Mark on his left hand, the lines of the strange glyph seemed to be dyed into his skin with a purple-black ink. He tried to rub at it, but it would not come off, which he was glad for. ¡°Are we safe?¡± he asked. Zak looked to Samael.

    ¡°We must be,¡± said Samael. He looked up, and noticed the sky had changed to the golden tones of sundown. ¡°They aren¡¯t supposed to be able to cross into life without a body.¡±

    ¡°What was that light Sam?¡± asked Henric. ¡°How did you do that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± added Zak. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°It was a banishing,¡± said Sam.

    ¡°A banishing?¡± asked Henric. ¡°When did you learn how to do that?¡±

    Samael only nodded. His face scrunched up as though he smelled something foul, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had come. ¡°It¡¯s gotten late, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± said Henric.

    But Samael was already up and walking away, leaving Zak and Henric a bit surprised with no choice but to follow after.

    ***

    On the way, Henric could still faintly smell that awful stench of the creature everywhere around him. He tried as best as he could to put the thing out of his mind, it could not get him here in Life. It wasn¡¯t until they came upon the corpse of a raccoon and the smell grew almost overwhelmingly strong that Henric realized the creature had smelled of Death. The revelation set his mind at ease, and felt himself falling back experimenting with the budding sense he seemed to feel like smell. He soon noticed pleasurable smell cutting through the stink of Death, the sweet aroma of Life. The forest through which they walked was filled with both, decaying leaves which gave birth to new life. Predator fed on prey, and new life was being born. Henric was amazed at what he could feel and did not notice as his uncles slipped away from him, around a bend in the stream.

    When he finally caught up to them, they were talking in hushed voices about something, and when they noticed him coming he could hear the change in the conversation.

    ¡°There you are Henric. Is everything alright?¡± Zak asked as Henric approached.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Henric was confused at the question. ¡°There¡¯s just so much going on here. I needed a moment.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± said Zak. Both brothers shot each other concerned looks. Then Samael nodded.

    ¡°Henric, I¡¯m was not sure if you sensed it.¡± Samael put his hand on his nephew¡¯s shoulder, and Henric could see tears in his eyes. ¡°Your father has died.¡±

 Chapter 2

    All the bells in the city rang out to mark the passing of Gareth Aldrimar. Henric rode along side of his father¡¯s casket clad his finest blacks and the same cloak as the day he¡¯d first walked in Death, black with a white roaring lion sown in. Zak had worked with Lucan and the Watch to clear out the streets early in the morning, but the people had still turned out in droves to mourn the loss of their Lord Regent. And to welcome home the soldiers, their husbands and brothers who had fought for and with Henric¡¯s father. Henric would have traded places with any of them right now. Their day would be one of joy and reunion, while his would be one of somber and rigorous ceremony.

    Henric was surrounded by an honor guard of his father''s six finest knights in their armor, and his uncle Samael who had just returned from the Unarium at Lullus. Like Henric, he was dressed in blacks to mourn the passing of his eldest brother, a man almost twice his age. Sam was staring off into crowds ahead, absently letting his horse lead him. Now was as good a time as any.

    Henric was about to open his mouth when someone else spoke behind him.

    "My lords," said Thomias, the portly mayor of the city. He must have spurred his poor old steed out of his assigned place in the procession to catch up to them. Henric had seen far too much of the big man in the past few weeks for his tastes. Thomias had a good heart, and was a capable representative of the people, but he was always eating and talking so loudly he drowned out any conversations that were not his own. "My condolences for your loss. Gareth Aldrimar will be missed"

    That seemed to bring Samael back from whatever occupied his mind. "Thank you, Mayor Thomias."

    "Yes, thank you" said Henric, keeping his answer short in hopes the mayor''s interruption would be an uncharacteristically brief one.

    "Your father was a great man, Lord Henric," continued Thomias. "I have commissioned a statue in his honor for the fountain in the West Market."

    "How good of you," said Henric. "I would like to see it when it has been completed."

    "Oh of course! And you shall!" said Thomias. Clearly he had no intention of leaving them alone. "We have many matters to discuss before then. Take for instance the goods flowing into the city. People are finding their own stolen goods in our markets."

    "I..." said Henric.

    "And then there is the matter in Altea," continued Thomias. Henric shot his uncle a desperate glance.

    "Now is not the time for these discussions Thomias," said Samael. "Let us first bury my brother and let my nephew rest. These matters can wait till later in the week, no?"

    The fat man shook his head, wobbling both his chins. "These are pressing matters and should not be delayed."

    "And they won''t," broke in Henric. "I will send for you to join us atop the hill within the week, once my father''s matters are settled."

    His assurance seemed to placate the man, and he soon returned to his designated place in the line. Looking up, Henric was able to see they had almost come under the shadow of their destination, the castle on its high hill. Their procession moved slowly, winding its way through the broader streets of the city, and at this rate they would not reach the castle until midday. He was glad Samael had been the one to meet Gareth''s corpse along the road, mostly for what his quiet uncle left unsaid expecting nothing of him. It felt like a bit of a break.

    "Sam," said Henric, keeping his voice low. "Sam!"

    "Yes Henric?"

    ¡°How did it go at the Unarium?¡±

    Samael shook his head and sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. When I got there, I took tests for two days and gathered my things. I didn¡¯t stay long enough to even hear my results.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad you made it back on time,¡± said Henric.

    ¡°Barely,¡± said Samael. ¡°I was lucky to meet Arnult and the precession when I did.¡±

    Henric looked around, and then urged his horse into step alongside Samael¡¯s. "I''ve been meaning to ask what did you do? In Death?" The past week had been busy for Henric, and with Samael back at the Unarium to finish out his term and gather his things, the two of them had not had much time to discuss his initiation and the denizen''s attack.

    "I told you already, Henric, it was a banishing," said Samael.

    "Yeah, but you didn¡¯t explain anything uncle," said Henric. He remembered the brilliant violet-white blast surging through the fog. He remembered the horrible shriek the denizen let out as the blast hit it. He had dreamed about it almost every night and thought after it every free moment he had. He had even asked Zak, who was just as mystified as he was. ¡°And I read the Journal. It didn¡¯t say anything about a ball of violet light.¡±

    Samael blushed. ¡°Was pretty sure I did it wrong.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Henric almost laughed. ¡°It still saved me.¡±

    ¡°I suppose so,¡± Samael grinned.

    ¡°Well?¡± asked Henric. ¡°Are you doing it wrong?¡±

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Samael said. ¡°I¡¯d found a book at the Unarium and tried something from it. That day in the river was the only time it ever worked.¡±

    "What book? Do you still have it?" asked Henric. "I would love a look at it."

    Samael shook his head, whipping his braided hair behind him. "Brother Davit caught me practicing and confiscated it from me. It is forbidden literature for all but the Ordained. I no longer have it."

    "Oh," said Henric, and nothing else. He had never known Samael to be careless with anything before, which only made him want to see this book more. Perhaps he would be able to find a copy when he attended at the Unarium himself. ¡°Did you find anything else?¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°The denizen,¡± said Henric. ¡°We still have to do something about it, but Zak and I didn¡¯t want to make a move without you.¡±

    The first thing they had did that night after Samael had left was dig through the old Journal. The last time a denizen had come so close to Life was more than a century ago, during the time of the first Henric Aldrimar. There was a famine that year, and the small town of Carthel, high in the eastern mountains was starving. Reports from the town said the dying screamed out in horrible agony, as if they were being eaten from the inside, a sure sign of a denizen preying on their souls. Lord Aldrimar crossed over and banished the creature deep down river, and maybe that would work for them...

    ¡°Henric,¡± said Samael. ¡°I don¡¯t think we have anything to worry about. That was a very remote area, I can¡¯t see how it would have crossed over. It would need a necromancer.¡±

    They had come to the Lord''s Square, the grand marketplace at the foot of the Aldrimar''s Hill beyond the the open gate. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right,¡± said Henric.

    The whole square was packed with crowds mourning for his father. It was here that the hundred assembled trumpeters began to play out fanfare. Henric didn¡¯t need to turn around to see the proud grin on Thomias¡¯ face, but did anyway. As they went, both he and Samael were showered with condolences, and could only respond with endless "thank you"s. A sea of people reached out to touch him, screamed his name, and he was grateful for the armed men between the rabble and himself.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Aeeeee!¡° a shrill scream, the trumpets stopped and Henric''s guards had their swords in hand. All around them, the crowd broke into chaos, people running every which way, mothers dragging crying children by death gripping their hands. Henric¡¯s horse spooked, and bucked him off of its back.

    He hit the cobbled streets hard with a grunt, jolts of pain rolling up and down his back. Are we under attack? And who would? Something kicked him in the side, and a young man tripped and stumbled over him, only to keep running. Henric rolled back onto his feet and all he could see was the surging sea of people, but he could hear the sounds of swords somewhere around. Ceremony had dictated he did was not allowed to carry a sword during the procession, but he took some comfort when his hand felt the dagger he had hidden away in his boot.

    He almost screamed and drew the dagger when he felt someone grab his shoulder. "My lord! Are you alright?" asked one of the knights, a man named Rorgan. Henric nodded. "Keep sharp and stay close to me. Avner, Kardin, with me. The rest of you protect Lord Samael."

    The knights reigned up their horses, and formed a circle around their deceased commander and his son and half-brother. They formed a hard wall to the confused citizens running at them, knocking them back without the use of their weapons, showing immense restraint.

    An arrow stuck with a thud and a twang in the wooden casket beside Henric. He followed the angle of it back over his shoulder and saw a figure on the rooftop slip away down the other side. He pointed, "Up there! I saw someone on the rooftops!"

    Almost as suddenly as the chaos had begun, a way opened before them, and they were able to charge through the square to the gate beyond. A line of guardsmen had rushed out to form a line and protect the gate, and only broke at the sight of the procession.

    "Close the gates!" Samael shouted at the guards once they were through. Then he turned to Henric, "Are you hurt?"

    Henric shook his head. He could hear his heart pumping hard in his chest. ¡°What happened out there?¡±

    ¡°It was a scuffle,¡± announced the gate captain from the top of the stairs. Each wooden step let out a hollow thud as he descended. ¡°I saw it from atop the gate. It looked like some toughs started up a fight. One drew a sword and then it was like a malagreth had appeared down there.¡± The gates came closed with a screeching halt by the time the old man finally reached them.

    There were no more crowds beyond the gate, and much of the procession had dispersed behind them as they had passed through the city, and lost more during the panic. The few that remained were honored knights and the clergy attending the Archan. Henric was glad to see that Mayor Thomais seemed to have made it . They were on castle grounds now, though there were still two gates and a long climb between them and home.

    ¡°Work with the Watch captain and round up the men who started the fight. I have a few questions for them,¡± said Henric to the captain. He handed over the arrow he had pulled from the casket, and added, ¡°Someone was on the rooftops. I am lucky they missed.¡± I have to make sure those responsible are punished, he thought. The gate captain turned and started barking out orders, had Henric presented with a new horse, and the procession proceeded.

    When the sun hung high in the sky, the funeral procession finally crested the hill and arrived at the high courtyard of Zaksburg. The entire castle had assembled in the courtyard to receive the beloved son of their duke. Stable hands rushed up to take their horses, and both Henric and Samael rushed up to greet their waiting mothers.

    Lady Kris, Henric¡¯s mother, was a tall, fair skinned woman. Her long chestnut hair was done up in a single braid that hung down to her waist. Her mourning gown was long and modest, in the traditions of her homeland. ¡°Henri¡¯¡± she said as she wrapped him up in her arms. ¡°We had heard zer was a ummotion below? Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Yes mother,¡± Henric said. ¡°I am just fine. I had father¡¯s best knights around me, I was well protected.¡±

    Beside them, Ekloda embraced her son Samael. Though Henric had known her as ¡®grandmother¡¯ all his life, that was only because she was married to his grandfather. The duke¡¯s second wife was only a few years older than Henric¡¯s mother. Like her daughter in law, Ekloda was a foreigner to Erazel, and the two women had become close friends over their years together as outsiders. The duke¡¯s wife was dressed in a overlarge, warm, but less than flattering dress. She had never grown used to the cold of Erazi winters.

    ¡°Good,¡± said Kris. She smoothed out the cloak on Henric¡¯s shoulders. ¡°You look too handsome, it would be a shame to have ruined that.¡±

    ¡°You do have a handsome son, Kris,¡± said Ekloda. ¡°Perhaps when he grows up he may be as handsome as one of mine.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, mother,¡± said Samael. His brother Zak was considered by the serving girls the more handsome of the two brothers, a fact Samael was not ignorant of.

    ¡°He should be so lucky!¡± said Kris. That made Adelin, Henric¡¯s younger sister, giggle at him. He shot her a glare but soon the others were laughing too. He brushed away his mother¡¯s fussing hands from his hair, he was embarrassed enough. He looked around at the assembled crowd. His uncles, Zak and Samael stood beside their mother, the duke¡¯s wife. To his left were his mother and his older sisters, Alixandra, Eldabeth, and to his right was his little sister Adelin.

    Elsewhere in the courtyard he spied Mayor Thomias chattering and waving his hands with the captain of the guards. The four clergymen assembled included Father Ulan, who would preside over the ceremony today, were talking amongst themselves. Henric saw a group of barons and knights from the countryside, a few elected officials including the Mayor of Waylese, and the duke¡¯s brother the Half-Zak. There was only one person Henric did not see, the duke of Zaksburg himself. But he had not been seen in Zaksburg for eight years, not since his surrender to the old king at the end of the rebellion.

    ¡°Father Ulan!¡± Henric shouted across the yard. The old priest looked up, at the sound of his name. ¡°I think it is time we started.¡±

    The old man looked up. His long brown beard was tucked into the collar of his robe, making a comical sight as he craned his neck to squint at the sun. ¡°I... I do think so too,¡± said the old man. ¡°Come on now everyone! Let us begin the Rites!¡±

    All of the guests assembled filed into the small chapel and took their seats. Though he was never duke, Gareth Aldrimar would be afforded all the dignities of burial as one. He had been named Lord Regent upon his father¡¯s surrender, and ruled through the duke¡¯s incarceration for the past eight years. Gareth had done his part in maintaining the tenuous peace in Erazel, working hard to reunite the divided nation after three generations of civil war and the extinction of the old royal family. In the weeks since his father¡¯s death, people had looked to Henric to fill those impossible shoes.

    Light filled the chapel through the glass panels in the roof. At the altar, Father Ulan and his attendants produced the seven oils from the large wooden chest they carried with him. Gareth Aldrimar¡¯s casket was placed at an angle and opened facing the assembly. He looked peaceful, though Henric knew that was the priests doing. His father had died several weeks ago of a plague that had swept through his war camp during the new king¡¯s campaign in Azrinel.

    The old priest began to chant, and the others soon joined him. He led the ceremony, anointing the body of Gareth Aldrimar with the oils, one after the other. When he had finished with the sixth oil, Father Ulan motioned to the congregation to rise and for Henric to approach. He took the few steps to the raised platform, as the priest produced the seventh oil, and held it up for all to see. ¡°As we say goodbye to Gareth Aldrimar, we ask the Lords Above to bless us his son, Henric, with all his father¡¯s wisdom and benevolence.¡±

    ¡°Amen,¡± the congregation said in unison. The priest tilted his hand, and the final oil poured out and burst into a lavender flame when made contact with his father¡¯s forehead. The priest and the boy made eye contact, and both began to recite the ancient words. As they did, the flames whipped up and around, and Henric found himself concentrating deeply on the flame. He felt a drop of the oil on his forehead, and the flame leapt from Gauthier¡¯s forehead to his son¡¯s, and Henric felt a strange sensation of warmth come over him. The flames soon dispersed, Henric no worse for wear, and he rose to close the lid on Gareth Aldrimar¡¯s casket.

    Father Ulan went on to say much on the nature of Death. As Henric sat back down in his seat, he looked at the faces of those assembled, and allowed himself a bit of pride. He had done well. For a few moments, he listened to the old man.

    ¡°His works among us done,¡± warbled the man. ¡°The Lords Above have allowed him to join with them in Death Eternal, no longer shall he suffer the troubles of Life.¡±

    When he was younger, it had been hard for Henric to reconcile what the Faith and what the Book said about what happens when you die. He¡¯d asked his father one day which one was correct.

    ¡°Zakaran is,¡± said Gareth. ¡°You¡¯ll see for yourself one day, like I have.¡±

    ¡°So if the priests are wrong, why do we even bother with them?¡± asked Henric.

    He knew he had said something wrong by the look his father gave him. ¡°The priests are not wrong, Henric. What Zakaran talks about in his book would be heresy to any other. We are not supposed to see it. To travel in the River of Souls is a fate the Faith seeks to prevent for it¡¯s followers. Those who earn the gods¡¯ favor are brought straight to them once their souls leave their bodies.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± he remembered saying. He had seen Death now though, and he envied those souls.

    His father crouched down to look him in the eye. ¡°What Zakaran did, what we can do, serves the gods in a different way than the priests and the Faith can. Even in Death the sinners and the Faithless can wreak havoc, and the Lady chose us to keep her peace.¡±

    But why us? wondered Henric. Are we really the only ones? Does anyone know? Is that why I was attacked today? He wondered whether or not the men who had started the commotion this morning had been found yet. No, it had only been a few hours and would be unfair of him to expect results so soon. Someone tried to kill me today. That cannot go unpunished. He wondered who had been on the rooftop, and if they had anything to do with the chaos in the plaza. He had a lot of work to do.

 Chapter 3

    "So you missed him?" said Allen.

    "Hardly," said Rua. "My shot was perfect, the boy got lucky is all."

    "Whatever you say, boss," said Allen. Rua didn¡¯t like the way he said ¡®boss¡¯.

    The common room of the Dancing Stone was dark, crowded, and stunk like sweat and piss and beer. Or maybe it was the beer that smelled like piss and sweat, Rua couldn¡¯t tell. Across the table from him, the northerner, Allen chugged his down greedily, then slammed the table calling for another one. He had chosen this place to meet for its charms, it would seem.

    Rua had to admit the mistake to himself though. He had led the boy too little, and the arrow went right past him. Master Omaras would be furious at the news, but Rua had no intention of returning to the east until he had good news and a trophy of the duke¡¯s grandson''s death. He had not failed, not yet.

    ¡°That really was quite the commotion you stirred up today,¡± said Rua as the barmaid set down two more beers at the table. He still had more than half of his first beer left.

    Allen tipped his golden-maned head and his beer in a faux-gracious gesture of thanks, then took a giant gulp, and another. ¡°It was nothing really. Me an¡¯ a few of my boys just went and stirred up the boys from Southriver. Then one of ¡®em pulled out a sword! Lucky me!"

    "Yes," said Rua. "His fortunate for you." Even after these past few weeks, he still found nothing redeemable about his contact in this city.

    ¡°What do you even have against the kid anyway?¡± Allen asked.

    ¡°I was told he had to die,¡± he pushed his chair back from the table as if to stand. The whole bar was silent for a moment at the great creak it made, watching the thin stranger in his large dark cloak for a sudden move, and returning to their own drinks and distractions after a moment of inaction.

    ¡°That so?¡± said Allen.

    Rua had enough, and turned his back to the northerner.

    "Ahem," coughed Allen and stared Rua dead in the face. His right hand was stretched out, with a light grip on the hilt of his sword. "What about my money?"

    Of course, thought Rua. All these northerners think about is money and violence. They''re practically Rgahzi. He pulled a small purse from his pocket and dropped it onto the table with a thunk. Even before the purse hit the table he was leaving the Dancing Stone and stepping out into the evening sunlight..

    The street outside was hardly more than an alleyway, yet people milled in and out of the shops and stalls located throughout while carts wheeled down the center of the lane. Drawing up the hood of his cloak to cover his face, Rua began to make his way southwards through the sea of people. As he walked, he looked all around him for any sign of trouble, a remarkably easy task when standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

    He could not afford another failure. The last attempt had taken weeks of planning and almost all of his travel cash, and yet the lucky boy still lived. He had relied on the chaos in the plaza to distract the boys guards, and Rua didn¡¯t know the next time Henric Aldrimar would be seen in public. Perhaps I could infiltrate the castle? he supposed. He would need at least three weeks of observation to figure out the best way in, and a few more still to discover the young lord¡¯s patterns. But before any of that, he would have to send a report.

    Killing the boy¡¯s father had not caused him half the trouble. Sickness had done most of the work, striking the whole camp. It had been triflingly easy to slip past the token lookouts and into their captain¡¯s tent. Rua hadn¡¯t seen the duke¡¯s son leave his tent in the last day, and was not surprised to find him sleeping soundly. To the steward that found Gareth Aldrimar the next morning, it looked as though the sickness had killed him in his sleep.

    As Rua came around a bend, he saw two men armored in matching black and crimson surcoats with a white lion on the breast, Aldrimar¡¯s Watchmen. Rua stepped back and his around the bend, peeking out just enough to spy on them and the woman they seemed to be questioning. She turned, and pointed down the street directly at Rua, and he saw the guardsmen¡¯s eyes follow. He slipped back behind the bend, and went back northwards up the street. He slipped into a small alcove where one building jutted out further into the street than the one next to it, and waited for the guards to come.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Their heavy footsteps and clanking armor parted the crowds at their approach, and Rua was grateful for a line of people between him and the watchmen. Who was that woman? How did she know I was there? One watchman pointed, and the other followed him to the doorway to the Dancing Stone. Now¡¯s my chance! Run!

    But curiosity got the better of him. Instead of taking off down the street, he crossed ut and slipped back inside the stink of the Dancing Stone. With Rua¡¯s money Allen had ordered large plate of pork, and was now shoveling it greedily into his face. The disgusting display was by the guardsmen approaching the table.

    ¡°Allen,¡± said the taller of the two watchmen.

    ¡°Washman Theric! Fancy sheeing you here!¡± slurred Allen.

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t surprise you too much,¡± said Theric. ¡°When there¡¯s trouble in town, you¡¯re usually not far from it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea what choo mean, sir. I¡¯ve been here all day.¡±

    The Dancing Stone had fallen silent again for the second time that evening, its patrons rapt in the unfolding scene. Theric leaned in, placing his gauntleted hand firmly on the table.

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb with us,¡± said the watchman. ¡°We know you¡¯re lying. Plenty of people saw you picking a fight with those men from Southriver in the Plaza this morning.¡± He nodded to his partner.

    The other watchman shifted between Allen and the door, blocking Rua¡¯s view of his contact. Damn this dark place that hides from the Sun! No fortune could find a man in a place like this where torches burnt through daytime. Rua stood helpless as Allen went for his sword, and found a heavy mailed fist restraining him against the thick wooden pillar at his back. Both watchmen were speaking loudly at him while Rua slipped back out onto the street again.

    Rua moved as quickly as he could through the quickly darkening canyon-streets of the city below Zakaran¡¯s Rock, the city under the protection of the Aldrimars. Careless, he bumped into a someone, and thought he felt a pickpocket¡¯s groping hand. A quick check confirmed he still had his shortsword and his two hidden daggers, his knives, his coinpurse, and most importantly the vial, his way out should he be captured. He would die before giving up his secrets.

    But he didn¡¯t have his bow or arrows. He left them high in an empty attic he had found while exploring the city¡¯s rooftops. He wanted to get them, but they were just under a mile away and he had no time. If Allen said anything, the Watch would have the whole city watching for him, and he would be forced to drink the vial. Or flee, he could always try to slip away and spend his life moving from city to city, always looking over his shoulders for Master Omaras¡¯ knives. What kind of life would that be though? No. He would just have to make sure Allen said nothing.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± shouted Allen as the two guards dragged him kicking out of the Dancing Stone.

    ¡°Shut it,¡± said Theric. ¡°You¡¯re coming with us¡±

    Allen gave a mighty thrash, and almost broke Theric¡¯s grip on him. The other watchman struck him hard on the face, and Allen went limp in their arms.

    ¡°Shit,¡± said the watchman. ¡°Now we¡¯ll have to carry him the whole way.¡±

    They dragged him back northwards through the streets as the fireboys ran through lighting torches. Rua followed, pressed against walls and keeping the Watchmen in eyesight. They turned down an alley heading into the base of the Aldrimar¡¯s rock.

    ¡°Stop,¡± said Rua. The watchmen stopped suddenly. They had been sure they were alone with their prisoner.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± asked Theric. He let go of Allen¡¯s arm, letting him slump down onto the cobbles. He loosed his sword in its sheath, and his partner did the same.

    Rua had his own sword in hand, a throwing knife in the other. He felt his muscles coiling, ready to spring when his opponents moved. Theric¡¯s partner drew his blade and approached.

    ¡°Ah!¡± he shrieked with Rua¡¯s knife sticking out from his eye. The tall man was on the watchman in an instant, and drove his blade through the man¡¯s armor and deep into his gut. The shortsword dripped red blood on the cobblestones as its owner turned on Theric.

    ¡°Mik! You bastard!¡± Theric came in fast and swung hard. With all his years of training, it was a simple thing to slip into the opening left by an opponent overextending himself. It was a simple thing for Rua to slide his blade along the man¡¯s exposed neck, cutting deep and spraying blood all over.

    He knew someone had likely heard the watchman¡¯s scream and he had only a few more moments before they would come looking. Rua looked at his contact laying unconscious on the ground. He¡¯s been nothing but trouble. I can leave no witness. He flipped the broad man onto his back, thrust the shortsword through his ribs, and placed one of the watchmen¡¯s swords in his hands. Rua looked around at his work and grinned. He allowed himself only a moment before disappearing into the crowded streets of the city below Zaksburg, nowhere to be seen when his handiwork was discovered.

 Chapter 4

    Henric Aldrimar woke, sucking in a deep breath. He was soaked in sweat and tore the covers off his bed and the clothes off of himself in disgust and threw open the shutters of his bedroom window. The young man stood there staring out into the night as cold filled the room, trying to forget the nightmare that had woke him.

    He remembered the cold pull of the current, around his ankles, the fog and the starless sky. He remembered the sound of the denizen¡¯s voice, the way it terrified him to the bone, the serpentine way it moved and sprung after him. In his dream, his uncles were not there to save him, and the denizen had quickly gained on him as he ran.

    No. He shook his head hard, as if it would shake away the fears. He took a deep breath, long and slow, and exhaled it quickly. His father had taught him that breath exercise years ago to help him keep his calm. Gareth Aldrimar had always stressed keeping a cool head. Though he did in fact feel calmer, the denizen¡¯s Death-stench would not fade, no matter how much fresh air he let in. It made him want to hurl.

    Henric¡¯s room was high in the east tower, some two hundred feet above the city and offered a great view of below. It was still dark, many hours before dawn. He stood there for a few minutes, searching for any signs of movement on the rooftops below in the moonlight. He thought he saw something for just a moment, but soon decided it was nothing. From his view, he was able to see the second gate opening to allow a group of Watchmen and some captives in. Good. They¡¯re here. He closed the shutters and stoked the embers in his fireplace back up to a small flame which added just enough light to the room. He quickly dressed himself , and lit a candle from the fireplace. With the light, he noticed he had left the Book lying open side down on his bed stand, bending the spine.

    He was about to open the door when he heard two quick knocks on his door.

    ¡°Lord Henric, I am sorry to disturb you, but I have urgent news.¡± The voice was muffled through the wood. ¡°Lord Henric?¡±

    ¡°Come in,¡± said Henric.

    It was Watch Captain Lucan that entered, and with him a fresh whiff of Death-scent. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have disturbed you my lord.¡±

    Henric flippantly waved the apology away. ¡°It¡¯s alright Lucan, I was already awake. You have news? Is it about the men who disturbed my father¡¯s procession?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± nodded the captain. He was almost twice Henric¡¯s age with long, mousy hair, and his armor cut an imposing figure in the firelight. ¡°Two of our men are dead.¡±

    Two of our men are... ¡°What? How?¡±

    ¡°It appears they had a suspect in custody, but he managed to grab one of their swords and cut them down, at the cost of his own life.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead? What about the others?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve rounded up over a dozen men, including the swordsman.¡±

    Henric clenched his fist. Two men are dead to capture twelve?

    For a guest, navigating Castle Zaksburg by night could be treacherous even with a candle, but to Henric this place was home. Completed in three phases over five generations of Aldrimars, the castle was a network of interconnected buildings and towers, and it had taken Henric years of his childhood to learn his way around every part and shortcut. He occasionally stumbled on a new servant who managed to get themselves lost, and was always more than happy to help them find their way.

    His uncle Zak¡¯s rooms were in the south tower, only a few flights of stairs, a short walk through the library and a few more stairs. When he knocked on the door, he heard the surprised gasp of a woman through the wood. Zak said something to her, but Henric couldn¡¯t quite tell what. He heard some commotion inside, and pressed his ear up against the door to hear clearer. Maybe I should come back later, he thought too late.

    He heard someone on the other side grab at the door handle and jumped back. ¡°What!¡± said a shirtless Zak Aldrimar, all muscles and hair with a few scars. It took him a moment to recognize his nephew, and while he softened his posture only slightly, he offered no apology for his tone.

    ¡°I need to speak with you,¡± said Henric. Zak was always telling him to sound like a lord. Inside the room, a woman leaned over on the bed trying to peek out the door, falling back the instant she saw Henric. All he saw of her was a flash of fiery red hair.

    Zak shifted to block more any more of his view to the room. ¡°What about?¡± Two weeks ago, his uncle would have just told him to shove off. Since the Rites though, Henric had yet to see just how much respect his new position held with his uncle.

    ¡°Get dressed. Our guests have arrived.¡±

    "Guests? What gue... Can''t that wait until morning?" Zak looked mournfully over his shoulder.

    "Not until morning," Henric shook his head. "Lucan brought me an urgent report when he arrived. When you''re done here, come down to the Pit."

    The putrid Death-smell assaulted Henric as Captain Lucan opened the door. Inside the cell, deep in the rock beneath the castle, three corpses lay covered in bloody cloths. Two of them still in their armor, and the third dressed in a garish green tunic.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    "We found this on that one," said Lucan, nodding towards the man in green. He handed a small coin pouch to Henric, who undid the tie and upended the contents into the palm of his hand.

    "Azrin coins," he said. Fifteen newly minted gold coins, each of them marked with the image of King Gundemaro. The inscriptions read ¡®Rey Sestil DCCXXX¡¯. Not King Erazi? ¡°They were minted only two years ago.¡±

    "I''ve seen enough," said Henric. One by one he slid the coins back into the purse, slid that purse into his pocket, and turned his back on the room. The gaoler closed the door behind them. "Who was he?"

    "Allen," said Lucan. "The Watch has had trouble with him before, but he usually comes in peaceful enough. I guess he had a history with Theric."

    Henric nodded. "And the rest of them are in the Pit?"

    "They are, my lord."

    Carved into the hard rock below Zaksburg, the hard stone walls of the Pit made the angry shouts of a dozen men sound like a hundred. Their wrists chained, the captives were allowed all the freedom sheer twenty foot walls offered. Henric stood near the edge and peered in. It was dark in the pit, their only light coming from the torch in his hand. "Fifteen," he strained to hear himself of the devil''s choir below.

    "Yes, my lord, in total," said Lucan.

    "And who are they?"

    "Petty criminals, mostly. Not one of them hasn''t made trouble before one way or another."

    "Let''s get started then." He used his hands to make a wide cone around his mouth and shouted down into the pit, "Enough!¡°

    The men quieted for a moment, before silently and unanimously deciding to renew their raging. Shouts of "fuck you","I''ll kill you", threats of ripping his cock off. Like caged animals...

    "I said enough! I have only a few questions for each of you. If you can behave yourselves and you will be compensated for your trouble and returned to your homes by morning."

    Henric signaled to a guard, and soon two other guardsmen stepped through the heavy iron gate. They pulled one of the captives out, and he was brought up to the top of the pit.

    "Wait, you''re jusht a kid!¡° remarked the man. He was dirty, covered in grease and dressed in dirty rags. His black eye and missing teeth almost made Henric feel bad for him. Stop that! This man could have been trying to kill you!

    Lucan''s men had prepared a small cell in the upper levels for Henric''s use. In turn, Henric had each one of the captives brought up and questioned. He had a cask brought down and offered each man a drink to loosen their tongues. Slowly a picture of the previous morning''s events became clear.

    Apparently, all of the men belonged to one rival gang or the other, and at their leader Allen¡¯s urging men from the north side attacked the men from the south during the procession. "He thought it would be easier since they''d all be out in the open," said one of the northsiders. "We didn''t know they''d have a sword though or I''d have brought my own."

    "So I seen them coming at us. They grabbed Rand and started beatin'' him," said the man who pulled the sword. ¡°So I pulled out my sword, and then some bitch started screaming and people was all over the place. What¡¯s any of that got to do with you?¡±

    ¡°You disturbed my father¡¯s funeral.¡± said Henric. ¡°And why did you have a sword? You know it is illegal to carry that in the city unless you are knight, a Watchman, or actively serving in my grandfather¡¯s military. I will have to confiscate the weapon.¡± The man gulped at that, but he knew nothing of any plans on Henric¡¯s life.

    ¡°Can you tell me what you were fighting about that yesterday?¡± Henric asked a vaguely rat-like man. He almost sighed at it. He had been asking questions of these men for almost an hour now, and he had hardly learned anything new.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Allen said we should. Kept saying it was a great day for it. I don¡¯t argue with Allen. You¡¯ll have to ask him. Where is he anyway?¡± The rat-man looked around the room nervously, then sipped at the beer Henric had set before him.

    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°No! How?¡±

    ¡°Resisting arrest. He killed two of my men who tried to bring him in.¡± Henric thought to himself for a moment, ¡°Why was he so focused on yesterday?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised,¡± the rat-man said flatly. ¡°Just like him. He¡¯d been having meetings. None of us ever went, just him, but he had one of them tonight. At the Dancing Stone.¡±

    ¡°Meetings? With who?¡±

    ¡°I just said I never went. Can I go now?¡±

    Henric dismissed him, and ordered the guards to release the men he had captured. As Lucan escorted the captive away, Zak slipped in.

    "About time," said Henric. "What took you?"

    "I was outside," said Zak. "Listening in. You did well. Letting them all drink... You know some of them are carolling down in the Pit right now?"

    Henric laughed. "Really? They were screaming and raging earlier. This way seemed easier than hurting them."

    "Indeed." Zak grabbed a flagon and poured himself a drink from the cask. "So what do we know now?"

    Henric waited till he sat to begin. "Did you see the bodies?"

    "I did.¡±

    ¡°How can you stand the smell?¡±

    ¡°You get used to it, in time. Damn shame about them though. I''d seen Mik fight a few times in the Ring, he was fierce. Didn''t think a common thug would do him in."

    "That''s because he didn''t. Someone else is involved here, someone who wanted Allen starting a fight this morning. Someone who would rather kill him than risk him talking."

    "But who?"

    "The same person who tried to kill me this morning, and my only lead on their identity is laying dead down the hall. How do I find someone when I have no way to know who I¡¯m looking for?¡±

    Zak smirked. ¡°That¡¯s an easy one, nephew. Let them come to you.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think that¡¯s a good idea?¡± Henric couldn¡¯t look his uncle in the eyes. He could feel tears welling up, and took a deep breath to stave them off. ¡°The arrow only barely missed me last time.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be protected,¡± said Zak.

    ¡°I was protected yesterday.¡± Henric was looking down at his cup. ¡°I almost died yesterday. I almost died a few weeks ago during my initiation. I¡¯ve seen Death uncle, I don¡¯t ever want to see it again. I wouldn¡¯t even wish it on my enemies. I¡¯d be better off if I never left the castle again.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on now, you don¡¯t mean that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just not sure I can do it uncle.¡±

    ¡°Do what?¡±

    ¡°All of this! I haven¡¯t slept a whole night through since my father died, and I¡¯ve almost died twice. I get the feeling I¡¯m not long for this world.¡±

    ¡°Henric, look at me.¡± He finally looked up from his cup. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you anything will get easier for you, but I promise I will do anything I can to help you in it.¡± Zak watched him for a moment, and sighed. ¡°Sometimes I think you forget how young you are. What you¡¯re going through would be hard for anyone. But you¡¯re not giving up either. From now on you¡¯re carrying your sword with you everywhere, and you show up at dawn for drill every morning.¡±

    ¡°You talk to me like I¡¯m a child. You don¡¯t get to tell me what to do.¡±

    ¡°You are still a child sometimes. I promised Gareth I¡¯d always be looking out for you, no matter what. You know he¡¯d say the same thing"

    "You''re right, uncle." He really was. Henric could almost hear his father¡¯s voice telling him the wisdom of his uncle¡¯s words. He sighed, and set his cup back down on the table. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m going to sleep for a few hours. I¡¯ll see you at the yard.¡±

 Chapter 5

    ¡°Hold strong men! And remember,¡± he shouted. The sky had been clear sun was hot that morning and he was already sweating in his armor, but the duke¡¯s excitement only grew. Today would be a glorious battle. He savored the wind whipping through his hair ¡°We fight today because our king would have no peace! We fight to protect our wives and our sons and daughters. We fight today because we must, may the Lords Above have mercy on us.¡±

    Before him, the assembled knights and their armies from half the kingdom shouted back ¡°Amen!¡±

    Henric recognized the royal emblem on the king¡¯s shield, leveled his lance, and charged headlong at him. The king soon recognized him as well, and brought his lance to bear. They smashed gloriously against each other, lances shattering to splinters against the other¡¯s shield. Henric brought his horse around and drew the sword. He swung, their swords clashed, again and again. When the first fell off his the other dismounted as well and the bitter rivals continued their fight on the ground.

    The Death-stench had grown powerful all around them, and it filled Henric. All around him, men spilled each other¡¯s blood and it began to seem as though he could see the clouds of Death steaming off the blood of fallen soldiers.

    The two Henrics, duke and king, were locked in mortal combat, neither willing to concede to the other. Their whole lives had been for this, to finally end the bloody conflict begun by their grandfather¡¯s half a century ago.

    He felt a sharp pain in his leg. ¡°Ahhhg!¡± The knight behind him had a blue and white shield, and the tip of his sword was red with Henric¡¯s blood. ¡°How could you, Doryan?¡± He felt Doryan¡¯s shield bash into the back of his helmet, and suddenly the ground rushed up to meet his face.

    He opened his eyes to darkness. It felt like there had always been darkness, but Duke Henric remembered otherwise. He remembered the sunshine on his skin, the wind blowing through his hair, the smell of autumn rains. In this cell, there had never been sunlight, no breeze could ever blow, and the only smell was Death.

    Henric had spent the first weeks of his time here spilling his guts, hardly able to keep anything down because of the smell. It didn¡¯t come from any one place, but instead pervaded the whole of his small cell equally. He used to wonder how that was possible, but no more.

    ¡°Aldrimar¡±

    There it was. The voice that was not a voice that sent shivers down his spine. It was the only company he had, and he hated it.

    ¡°Aldrimar. Come now, speak to me. I have something I wish to tell you.¡±

    ¡°No. Leave me be.¡±

    ¡°You know I won¡¯t do that.¡±

    He did. Henric had fought against it before, and each time he was punished. Still, it was better to fight, wasn¡¯t it? He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and he heaved.Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°You¡¯re so stubborn Aldrimar.¡± It laughed, and Henric heaved again, and fell to his knees on the floor. He was lucky he hadn¡¯t been fed for a while and his stomach was empty. ¡°But you¡¯re fun.¡±

    ¡°Fine. What is it?¡±

    ¡°I had something I wanted to share with you.¡±

    ¡°Yes? Out with it demon.¡±

    ¡°Demon?¡± It laughed. ¡°Is that what you think I am?¡±

    They had played this game hundreds of times before, and it had never been forthcoming with what it really was. It had only revealed its name, Draciat. ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t wish to guess any longer, I suppose that would do.¡±

    ¡°Go on, you said you had something to share?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I do. Though perhaps you knew. Your son is dead.¡±

    ¡°My... son?¡± He remembered the faces of his three sons the last time he had seen them. His heir Gareth, a grown man with a son of his own. Zak, just becoming a man. And young Samael crying as his father was taken away in chains. ¡°Which son?¡±

    But a wave of nausea washed over him, and he felt pressure building behind his eyes. Suddenly he was out in a field, wind blowing through his hair. Before them, armored men charged at each other with lances and swords. Henric recognized his own banner flying high above one group of men, watched his men rush headlong into a group loyal to the Lenese king. Horror struck him as another group of Lenes knights rode over the ridge, and smashed down on his son¡¯s side. The fighting was over quickly and soon Henric was standing over his son, Gareth, bleeding from his side where stuck by a lance.

    And in a blink he was back in the darkness of his cell. Henric felt tears running down his cheeks and cursed himself, he might have needed the fluid. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he began to say.

    ¡°Don¡¯t what? Stop? If you insist, there¡¯s plenty more.¡±

    The nausea washed over him again. He watched as his son Zak, now a grown man stood atop castle walls hacking down each enemy that climbed up, only to take an arrow through the neck and collapse onto the ground.

    "No!" shouted Henric.

    The scene shifted, and we watched his youngest son, Samael sitting alone, take a sip of wine and turn purple as he choked. "Please, make it stop!¡°

    Then it showed him a young man who he hardly a moment to recognize as his grandson, the boy Henric, before he was consumed in a great blast. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

    "This is your doom Aldrimar. The punishment for all those who bear your name."

    This isn''t real, Henric thought. But the visions came quicker now. A young man fell from a high wall into the sea rocks below as a baby screamed in the tower above. A man set upon by outlaws and strung up like a common poacher. One man drove his blade through another on a balcony looking out over a sprawling city below.

    Henric reached his hand out, feeling for the wall he knew had to still be there. In spite of his vision, he felt the cold, rough stone of the floor beneath his fingers and followed it over to the wall. "Make it stop!¡° he shouted, but the voice, Draciat only laughed.

    Still more visions came, men and women died over and over before him. He did not recognize most beyond their sandy hair and green eyes of the Aldrimars. Henric slammed his head against the wall, "Make it stop!" But Draciate offered him no repreive, and so he slammed his head into the wall again. And again. He could feel the hot wet of blood running down his face. He could feel the pain numbing him, but the visions were still worse. He saw a man and his army swallowed by a black horde. It took all his effort to raise his head again, and this time he could only let it fall. He heard the crack of his own skull, and knew it would soon be over.

    The visions soon began to fade. Blackness was closing in all around him and he felt very weak. Finally, thought Henric. I will be free!

    As he lay there in his cell deep below the Capitol, bleeding out, dying, Duke Henric Aldrimar the Third heard one last thing from his longtime tormentor. "Farewell, Aldrimar. We shall see each other again, soon."

 Chapter 6

    Rua had been following the fat man for three weeks. He had first noticed him and his small menagerie of armed guards as he left the Aldrimar¡¯s castle one evening. At first he had mistook the man for some visiting dignitary and paid little attention to him. It would still be several more days before he would notice him arriving again and passing through the gates unhindered.

    He had tried those gates himself, but without the proper papers the guards would not let him through. Rua had contemplated attempting a forgery, but he did not know what the proper papers looked like. He had looked for other ways up as well, but the castle was built atop a sheer rock rising up out of the river valley. There was no other way up but the gates without the potential of being noticed by half the city as he climbed.

    When the fat man was let up through the gate for the third time that week, Rua knew he had to follow him when he left. Carefully, he climbed down from his rooftop perch and followed the man through the city streets that evening. His quarry had a companion with him, and both men were dressed in bright, colorful silks, and were surrounded by six men with iron helmets and swords at their belts. Rua followed behind them, only just close enough to pick up parts of their conversation over the busy streets.

    ¡°So, what did you think of our future duke?¡± asked the fat man.

    ¡°I am unimpressed, Thomias,¡± said the shorter, bald one. So his name is Thomias. ¡°He spent half the meeting staring out the window and hardly said a word. His uncle did all the talking for him.¡±

    ¡°Give him time, give him time,¡± said Thomias. ¡°Henric has always been a bright boy, but he grieves for his father right now. Give him time, you¡¯ll see.¡±

    ¡°How much time? It was undignified how we were treated! What if this is simply how it will be with him? What will you do then?¡±

    The fat man raised a meaty hand to stroke his chin, then laughed as though he had seen some farce. ¡°You are such a fool Doggen. A disinterested ruler suits our needs just fine. If we convince the boy to establish a ministry, we stand to gain more under his rule than any before.¡±

    Doggen¡¯s face and the top of his bald head turned a deep red. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of it that way.¡±

    ¡°No, of course you didn¡¯t Doggen,¡± Thomias patted his companion on the back, almost knocking the shorter, balding man off his feet. ¡°That¡¯s why I am Mayor and you are not.¡±

    Doggen looked around. They had come to an intersection where two of the city¡¯s main thoroughfares formed into a large square. Doggen motioned to the Northriver road, and said ¡°This is where I leave you, your mayorship.¡±

    ¡°Farewell Doggen!¡± said Thomias. He turned, and continued down the West Road. Rua followed him to a large home in the middle of the city, a few blocks from the cathedral square. Two more guards stood outside the oak double-doors, and opened them for him with a ¡®Welcome home.¡±

    Rua had been following the mayor back and forth from the castle for two weeks now. The way he moved from one hiding spot to another had become routine, a daily dance through the streets below Zaksburg. His routine almost outed him when he mechanically made to move across an alleyway only to see the mayor take an unusual turn, towards Southriver.

    They wound up outside a small, well kept shop in the tradesman¡¯s quarter. He could hear the clinks of hammers on stone coming through the shops open door. The mayor went inside, and his guards stood outside, waiting. Less than an hour later, the mayor and his guards were on their way, but Rua stayed behind and slipped inside the shop.

    He bowed his head as he crossed the low doorway into the ceilinged room shop. Each step kicked up dust from the wooden floor. Small stonework trinkets lined shelves on one wall. There was nobody to tend the counter or watch the door, allowing him a full view of a shorter man with wooly black hair shouting commands at his two apprentices as they chiseled away at a block of marble.

    ¡°You heard the mayor!¡± said the man. ¡°He¡¯s not going to pay us until we are able to unveil it. Work faster!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t work any faster Halad,¡± said the blond boy, maybe sixteen, as he chipped away at what seemed to be an emerging shoulderblade.

    The dark-haired boy stopped his work entirely to plead with his master, ¡°We¡¯ll ruin it and have to start over like last time.¡±

    ¡°No, not like last time because YOU aren¡¯t going to make any mistakes this time. You cannot afford any mistakes, or I will have to find new apprentices. I told the mayor we would be ready to present it to the young lord Henric by next Friday.¡±

    ¡°Friday!¡± both boys cried at once, but offered no more argument. They returned to their work, and the who shop was again filled with the rhythmic chink of hammer and chisel and stone.

    Satisfied, the stonecutter turned around. It took him a moment to notice the tall man standing in his entryway and he gasped.

    "Well hello my good man," said Halad. He stepped around the counter and spread both arms out in a welcoming gesture. "Have you had a look around? Is there something I can do for you?"

    Rua felt a plan forming in the back of his mind. "Actually sir," Rua let his foreign accent out, carefully saying each syllable as if for the first time. "I come to know if you have work."

    Halad gave him a puzzled look, "you want to know if I have work? This is my shop, of course I have work!¡°This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "No! For me. Have work for me."

    "Oh." Halad looked him over for a minute then said, "No, I''ve no room to take on any more help."

    This time it was Rua''s turn to play confused. "But I come here because you need work. They say you teach."

    "Teach?" He thought for another moment. "What''s your name son?"

    "Varu.¡± It was his native word for liar.

    "I only teach apprentices Varu, and apprentices do not get paid."

    Rua did his best to look excited. "But you teach?"

    Halad nodded.

    "Oh thank you thank you!¡° Rua reached out and took his hand, shaking it vigorously in a parody of the Erazi''s strange custom.

    Though Halad did not pay, he had offered to let Rua stay on one of the extra straw mats he had upstairs. He would be sharing a room with the two younger boys, but it was "no more than a grown man still apprenticing deserves."

    That night, once the others had drifted off to sleep, Rua crept quietly downstairs into the workshop. By the faint light of the two moons he investigated their work. The marble block was some six feet tall, three feet wide and deep. Their past month''s work had whittled that block down into the emerging likeness of a man standing tall, with a noble cast to his features. Yes, this will do nicely. His plan was coming together.

    The next week was a busy one. By day he played bumbling apprentice in Halad''s shop, proving just skilled enough with hammer and chisel that he was trusted to handle the less nuanced work. By night, he snuck away from Halad''s and began gathering supplies.

    Easiest to find had been the fuel, charcoal pilfered from a nearby blacksmith. It had just been sitting in a large metal bucket behind the smith. Rua counted himself lucky, because it would take him the rest of the week to get the rest of the supplies he needed.

    None of the merchants Rua approached had a significant portion of sulfur, and charged an arm and a leg for what small amounts they had. He was separated from five of his gold coins over the next week in exchange for enough sulfur to match as much charcoal had he had stolen.

    He had to go all the way across the north river to find a dungshack. Apparently, the city had most of its waste swept away and brought to an order of monks who processed and refined it into some religious oil. This particular dungshack was too far away from the monastery on the west end of town, and in so poor a neighborhood as to be the most convenient waste dump. It was run by a man called Ulman.

    A candle was lit in the window of the shack, and Rua could hear the clanging of pots and pans inside. Rua knocked on the door.

    ¡°What? Who¡¯s there?¡± came a muffled voice through the door. The old man opened the door just a crack, ¡°What do you want?¡±

    "I am looking for Ulman."

    The door shut in Rua''s face. He could hear fiddling with metal locks inside, and then the door flung wide open. The first thing Rua noticed about him were his robes. They reminded him of a monk''s, only far more stained and worn. He had a bald head, with stark white tufts of fluff about his ears. "A customer? Come in, come in.¡±

    The old man¡¯s hovel was a cluttered mess. Tables lined two walls and were covered in all sorts of odds and ends; glass bottles, tubes of copper, pots, pans, and stills. He had a small stove in one corner, as well as a rough straw pile across from it where he must have slept. To Rua¡¯s right, next to the window, was another, smaller table stacked high with books with names like ¡°Of Sacred Oils and Their Production" and "The Properties of Salts". He blew a few puffs of air into the stove, and the flame quickly rose.

    ¡°I don¡¯t usually expect customers so late. What can I do for you... you? What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°I am called Mora¡¯ai.¡± It meant untrustworthy stranger. ¡°I need Loamsalt. It seems I''ve come to the right place."

    "The right place, aye" said the old man. "Sounds like you''ve come a long way, and you''ve arrived just in time, I should have a new batch ready in a fortnight. How much would you need?"

    A fortnight was too long. Rua thought about the other question a moment. He''d spotted a jar in Halad''s about the size of his head. "Half a pound."

    "Half a... what!? That''s half my production. I have orders for more two thirds of the batch already. No, that will be impossible."

    ¡°You¡¯ll just have to cancel some orders then,¡± Rua dropped his heavy coin purse on the table. ¡°As you can see, I can pay well. And I need it by wednesday.¡±

    ¡°Five days? You¡¯re mad! That just isn¡¯t possible.¡±

    ¡°I need it by wednesday,¡± he said again. ¡°How much can you get me by then?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t get you any. A priest may have some, and I could distill some from their oils, but I cannot provide enough in five days with my meager operations.¡±

    ¡°A priest?¡± Rua thought about that a moment. Over the years, he had made a point to keep out of the affairs of holy men. Rua was not an overly religious man, but he had decided it best to avoid the ire of the gods anyway. But if he must... He turned and opened the door and went out into the night

    It took two nights to find the monastery where it sat along the bank of the south river on the west end of the city. Its low walls served merely as a deterrent, and Rua had no trouble getting onto the grounds once he found them. Hiding behind well-manicured bushes, he watched and waited as two sentries stood around for a few moments before continuing on their way. Once the yard was cleared, he continued his search. He found the low, wide building and it¡¯s companion lean-to near the riverside. Under the lean-to, a hundred small mounds of waste and compost sat rotting, and Rua knew he had found the right place.

    Listening carefully for anyone inside, Rua attempted to open the door. It was locked. He circled around the building and found a small, shuttered window. With his knife, Rua forced open the shutter¡¯s lock, the shutters clacked against the wall, and slipped inside. He had only the dim moonlight from his opened window to light the room, he was forced to pull out his tinderbox and a candle from his cloak, and lit it.

    The whole building was a single large room twice as long as it was wide, and like Ulmans, was filled with tables with all kinds of bottles and stills. Against the far wall he found what he was looking for, a shelf lined with small bottles. Rua uncorked one of the bottles, and poured a grain or two out onto his candle, turning it¡¯s flame purple for a moment. Perfect.

    Rua was grateful for the extra pockets in his cloak, and stuffed as many of the bottles as he could into them. In his haste, he accidentally knocked a bottle from the shelf where it shattered on the ground. He grabbed one more.

    ¡°Hey!¡± someone was at the door, working the mechanism to open it. ¡°Jon, somebody is in here!¡± Rua moved back to the opened window, careful not to drop any bottles out of the coat.

    More light filled the room from the door, and Rua was face to face with a monk, torch in hand. He dodged backwards. The monk saw him, and began chasing him through the lab.

    Rua ran around the table, and slipped past the monk out through the door. He was out into the night, dashing across the grounds. With only a bit more carefulness than before, he was over the wall and away into the city.

    By the time he stashed the bottles and his cloak in his safe place with his bow, the sky was already beginning to take on its predawn grey. It was dawn by the time he made it back to Halad''s and snuck back onto his cot. He lay there for an hour in silence before anyone woke, thinking of how next friday would be his last day in the city, and Henric Aldrimar''s last day alive.

 Chapter 7

    ¡°Hey! Henric!¡± someone called across the yard. He wanted to turn his head and look, but he had no time. Instead, he brought his sword up to block Jaren¡¯s. The older boy twisted his sword, and wrenched Henric¡¯s from his grip.

    ¡°Give up?¡± Jaren¡¯ blade was at Henric¡¯s throat.

    ¡°You win, Jaren,¡± said Henric, grabbing the blunted edge with his gloved hand and shoving it away from him. He looked around for whoever had called for him, but saw only the usual crowd of servants and stable hands worming their way through the garrison at drill.

    ¡°You¡¯ll fare better when you can keep that sword in your hands,¡± said Jaren as he handed Henric back his sword.

    ¡°Thanks...¡±

    Jaren was only a year older than Henric and the closest in the garrison to him in age and experience, but had at least forty pounds on him. Their first sparring match had reminded Henric of something his father had told him about the scarcity of fair fights. He was just glad he hadn¡¯t ended up in the dirt this time.

    ¡°Henric!¡±

    ¡°Megan!¡± He smiled when he saw the girl and her brother standing on the other side of a hay bale that marked the training ring.¡°Mathev! Hey guys!¡±

    As he ran over to them, the acorn haired girl climbed up onto the bale and jumped at him. He almost wanted to dodge out of the way, before realizing he was supposed to catch her. Instead all he managed was to break her fall into the dirt blow. Henric heard some of the men at arms laughing.

    ¡°You were supposed to catch me,¡± she said.

    ¡°Lords Above Megan, you almost killed him,¡± said her twin as he climbed over the bale after her.

    ¡°No,¡± grunted Henric. He wedged an arm beneath himself, and rolled the girl off of him into the dirt and straw. He took Mathev¡¯s outstretched hand to pull himself up. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Megan was already back on her feet, brushing dirt and hay off of her modest green dress and giving her brother a death glare. ¡°That¡¯s not funny Matt.¡±

    It took a moment for Mathev to catch his sister¡¯s meaning, and a look of horror struck his face. ¡°Oh no! Henric I¡¯m so sorry! Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Of course I am, don¡¯t worry about it,¡± said Henric. Looking at them, he realized how sweaty he was in his gear. ¡°Here, follow me. I¡¯ve got to get these off.¡±

    They followed him through the yard to the armory where he hung up his training sword and tried to remove his leathers himself. Unfortunately, the knot on his back had slipped just out of his reach. The twins giggled at the sight.

    ¡°A little help?¡± asked Henric. Megan reached over and undid the knot with a single tug on the leather strap.

    ¡°Ew,¡± she said. ¡°You stink.¡±

    ¡°So would you if you¡¯d been up since dawn in the yard with Jaren.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d mind that,¡± she said, looking over her shoulder into the yard. Henric hung his armor back on the rack.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± said Mathev. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go.¡± He motioned to the door out to the castle. ¡°Our lord¡¯s got a lot of catching us up to do.¡±

    They walked back to the castle, Megan a step ahead of the two boys. They had been gone for the last year in the Capitol with their father Marek.

    "When did you get in?" asked Henric.

    "Last night," said Mathev. "We went home first. I never realized how much I missed my own bed."

    "Not me, I never wanted to come back," said Megan. "Nothing compares to the capital."

    "So you liked it there?" asked Henric.

    She turned around, walking backwards as she spoke. "You''ve been there right? All the people, the singers, the ships! I''m sorry, but home doesn''t even compare."

    "Don''t listen to her Henric. It wasn''t really as great as all that."

    They let themselves into the mess hall by a side door. It was late in the breakfast hour, and only a few stragglers were scattered about the simple tables. Their conversations echoed off the hard stone walls, filling the room with the sound of a thousand whispers.

    "Megan!¡° squeaked a girly voice on the other side of the hall, silencing all conversation. Beth, Henric''s sister stood, skidding her chair back against the stone and rushed around the table to hug the younger girl. Beth was a year older than Henric, and had been friends with the twins as long as he had. "Gods Megan I''ve missed you!¡°

    "I missed you too Beth! I hope my letters were enough to stave off your boredom without me around."

    Henric and the twins sat down at the table with Beth and their other sister, Adelin.

    "I missed you too Megan," said Adelin. She had always looked up to the older girl. Where Beth had always needed Megan''s prodding to keep up with the boys, Adelin tried to emulate the older girl in everything she did. "Did you have any adventures in the capital?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "Loads!¡° said Megan. "I can''t wait to tell you all about them."

    "It''s nice to see you ladies again too," said Mathev, looking a bit dejected. Henric was too busy eating to add to the conversation, training made him hungry.

    The girls went on gossiping and catching each other up on all the fashions and intrigues that they had missed. When the conversation veered towards boys, Henric gave Mathev an elbow nudge.

    "Let''s get out of here," he whispered. His friend nodded, and they got up from the table. "See you ladies later." They were ignored.

    "I''m sorry about your dad," said Mathev as the crested stairs to the top of the wall. "He was a really good man." The sun was bright that morning and the day would be a warm one. From up here they could see almost everything in the valley below, birds flying from tree to tree, the farmers across the river in their fields, and right below them they could watch the bustle of the city.

    "Thanks, Matt," said Henric. He didn''t know what else to say to that. He''d gotten plenty of condolences in the month since his father''s death, and simply run out of gracious thank yous.

    "But it''s kind of exciting right? Being a lord now?"

    Henric laughed. "Less so than we always imagined it would be..." He thought back on all the documents he had to sign, some to reconfirm his father''s appointees, others approving official expenditures on supplies for construction projects in the city and the castle. "A lot of signing papers, and a whole lot of ''important ceremonial duties''. And my life is constantly in danger. I haven''t left the castle since my father''s funeral."

    ¡°Shit,¡± said Mathev. ¡°So someone really did try to kill you?¡±

    Henric¡¯s held up his hands in the air so they framed the sides of his head. ¡°They missed by this much. The arrow stuck in my father¡¯s casket instead.¡±

    Mathev was silent for a moment, looking out over the city. "So how do we catch this guy? Do you have any leads?"

    Henric looked at his childhood friend. He''d gotten taller in his year away, and seemed more serious than the boy he used to play knights and bandits with. "I don''t know Mathev. Lucan and the watch have been searching the city for a week and found no trace of any assassin. I''m afraid they''ll turn up nothing."

    "Oh. But you''re not going to stay up here forever, right? That''s not very ''ducal''."

    This time it was Henric''s turn for contemplative silence. Mathev was right, of course. If he really wanted to live up to his birthright, he couldn''t spend the rest of his life afraid for it. But did he? He had thought about letting Zak or Samael assume the title instead, or possibly passing it to one of his lord cousins. Then he wouldn''t have to rule, his life wouldn''t be in constant danger. He would even have his chance next week when the lords Aldrimar met for Council. Somewhere deep inside himself though, he knew he was being foolish. He could almost hear his father shouting at him, "You would surrender your birthright? You would run away from the life you were meant for? Then you have no right to call yourself Aldrimar."

    "No, I suppose I can''t," said Henric.

    "Good. I thought I was going to need to find a new best friend."

    "There they are," said a voice on the stairs behind them. Both boys turned to see Marek, chancellor of Zaksburg and Gareth Aldrimar''s right hand man, with Samael right behind. Marek reached out a hand and offered it to him. "Henric my boy, good to see you again. Or should I say ''my lord''?"

    "You can call me whatever you like, unofficially," said Henric. "Officially though, it''s best to use my honors."

    Marek chuckled a moment before turning to his son. "Sorry to do this to you son, but there is important business for Henric and I to discuss. Watchmaster Lucan has arrived with a report for my lord."

    Mathev sighed. "Alright, I''ll find something to entertain myself."

    Henric knew how he felt being left out of the important conversations, a few weeks ago he would have been right there with his friend. "I''ll see you soon Mathev. Maybe I''ll finally beat you with a sword."

    Mathev gave him a goofy grin and took up a fencing stance. "Just because you''ve been practicing a little? I grew, Henric, you don''t stand a chance."

    Henric shook his head and grinned. "Just... Thanks Matt. I''m glad you''re back."

    Lucan was waiting for them with Zak in the council chamber conversing with Zak.

    ¡°Have you ever seen Roban fight? Now there¡¯s a tough bastard,¡± said Zak.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have anything on Varnen,¡± said Lucan. ¡°Roban¡¯s big sure, but I¡¯ve watched Varnen slip get behind a man and send his knees before the crowd could even start cheering for him.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong Luc, Varnen¡¯s good. But I¡¯ve fought Roban, and blocking one of his blows felt like my arm was gonna be ripped off.¡±

    ¡°He almost did, didn¡¯t he?¡± asked Lucan.

    ¡°No,¡± said Samael. ¡°He just dislocated it. I remember that fight, there was a moment there I almost thought you had him Zak.¡±

    When he looked up and saw Henric, Lucan snapped back onto his feet at attention. ¡°My lord! I have news to report.¡±

    ¡°Is it about the assassin?¡± asked Henric as he descended past concrete benches to the chamber floor, past Lucan. The council chamber was a large room on the southeast side of the castle, with large windows looking out over the river and the countryside below. Henric¡¯s official seat was at the table high on a raised platform with his back to these windows, and if he looked down from there it seemed as though there were no ground below him. As he sat, Marek and Samael sat on either side of him and Zak climbed his way into one of the chairs at the very end.

    ¡°No, my lord. There was an incident at Saint Elberts, a robbery.¡±

    ¡°At Saint Elberts? Truly? What was stolen?¡± Henric was surprised. He had thought the monastery served largely as a residence hall for the holy men in service to the cathedral and was hardly the place he would have suspected of a robbery.

    ¡°A bit more than half a pound of something called loamsalt,¡± said Lucan.

    ¡°Loamsalt?¡± asked Henric.

    ¡°It is an essential ingredient to the seventh oil of the Rites,¡± said Samael. ¡°It¡¯s quite a process to derive it, and half a pound would go for...¡± He stopped to do the calculation in his head. ¡°At least five goldens.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡± asked Zak, stealing Henric¡¯s question before it left his lips. ¡°What good is the stuff?¡±

    Everyone looked to Samael for an answer. ¡°Some butchers use it to salt their meats. It¡¯s expensive, but to rob priests for it?¡± Samael shook his head.

    ¡°When did this happen Lucan?¡± asked Henric.

    ¡°The night before last, my lord. I will have my men question the city¡¯s butchers.¡±

    Good old Lucan. Henric could see why his father had appointed Lucan. In his five years as a watchman, Lucan had proved he was able to outwit and apprehend a remarkable number of nerdowells, and his two years as captain had transformed the Watch into a fine tuned machine of justice. ¡°Good. No need to bring anyone in, just ask about their sources, but don¡¯t forget, I want a report as soon as possible. Thank you Lucan. You are dismissed.¡±

    The captain¡¯s tension fell away and he turned on his heels towards the chambers double doors. Beside him, the others were making to stand as well. ¡°Oh, one more thing,¡± said Henric. ¡°I don¡¯t want any word of this getting out to the Lords Aldrimar when they arrive tomorrow. Not about this, and not about the assassin. Understood?¡±

 Chapter 8

    ¡°Good, the boys are gone,¡± said Adelin. The younger girl had a wicked look on her face. ¡°Now you can tell us all about the boys in the capital.¡±

    Megan hadn¡¯t even noticed them leave, she¡¯d been so wrapped up Beth¡¯s telling of her sister Alix¡¯s most recent string of suitors. Seeing her old friends had made her forget how much she missed the capital and how awful the past two weeks had been since she¡¯d left.

    She shot Beth a helpless glance, but her friend¡¯s forest green eyes were staring back at her eagerly. Gossip fiends these girls...

    ¡°Oh yes!¡± said Beth. ¡°Tell us about Antoine.¡±

    ¡°Oooh who¡¯s Antoine?¡± asked Adelin.

    Megan felt flushed and instantly regretted including him in her letters.

    ¡°Antoine Doryan,¡± said Beth. ¡°The duke¡¯s nephew, he¡¯s in love with her.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on now,¡± said Megan. Antoine had been at court for a few years with his father, and had been courteous with her when she¡¯d first arrived. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that. He was only being gentleman.¡±

    ¡°And if only he¡¯d been a little less so,¡± said Beth.

    ¡°What did he look like?¡± asked Adelin.

    ¡°He was tall,¡± said Megan. ¡°He had long, brown hair and the bluest eyes I¡¯d ever seen. And he was strong too. You could feel it when you danced with him.¡±

    ¡°So did you kiss him?¡± asked Beth. ¡°You said you were going to?¡±

    Sometimes Megan wished her friend would forget something she read once in a while. She shook her head. ¡°Almost.¡±

    The Aldrimar sisters were sitting, watching her, rapt in attention.

    Megan continued. ¡°He invited me to attend a ball with him a few weeks after we arrived. We danced, and ate and he was very gallant. There were a few times while we danced I thought he was going to, but he never did.¡±

    ¡°Aww,¡± said Adelin. ¡°What a jerk!¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Megan laughed. Adelin Aldrimar was two years younger than Megan, and had always had a knack for making her laugh.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t being a jerk, Addy,¡± said Megan, even though she couldn¡¯t help agree with the younger girl. ¡°He was just being a gentleman, like I said. What about you two? Surely something interesting happened while I was gone.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± started Beth.

    ¡°No,¡± said Adelin. ¡°Not here. We can tell her later.¡±

    ¡°Tell me what?¡± Megan looked between the two golden haired sisters. ¡°What¡¯s going on.¡±

    ¡°Are you done eating?¡± asked Beth.

    Megan nodded. All three of them had finished eating a while ago, and had just been sitting and chatting at the table.

    ¡°Good,¡± said Adelin. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Looking out the great window of the Aldrimar¡¯s library reminded Megan of just how different this place was from the capital. From here, one could still see unbroken forests and untamed, hilly countryside, while in Zael, the King¡¯s Palace, one could only see the city and the sea. She¡¯d used to think Zaksburg was a large city, but it was little more than a sleepy hamlet by comparison. Still, she loved this view. The Aldrimar¡¯s library had always been one of her favorite places to play, and many of her fondest memories happened in this room.

    She heard the creak and clack of a door slamming shut on the balcony above. Adelin stuck her head out over the banister, and called out ¡°All clear.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asked Megan. ¡°Why all the cloak and dagger?¡±

    They had snuck all the way from the great hall, and neither girl would tell her why.

    ¡°It all started a few months ago,¡± said Beth. ¡°Father sent Henric a book, and ever since he and uncle Zak have been all kinds of secretive about it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Adelin as she made her way down the spiral staircase. ¡°They pretend like there is no book. But even Samael¡¯s in on it.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± asked Megan. ¡°That¡¯s... weird?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it,¡± said Beth. ¡°They¡¯ve been disappearing, saying they¡¯re going hunting but not bringing any bows or spears. And a few weeks ago, Henric came back from one of their trips with a tattoo on his hand.¡±

    Now that she mentioned it, Megan had noticed the vaguely eye-like marks on the back of Henric¡¯s left hand in the armory.

    ¡°It¡¯s the same tattoo Zak and Sam have,¡± said Beth as her sister flopped into one of the library¡¯s comfortable, overstuffed chairs. ¡°Father had it too, and none of them will tell us what it is.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re just being paranoid,¡± said Megan.

    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Adelin. ¡°I overheard them talking once, planning something, and they stopped as soon as they knew I could hear them. There¡¯s something they don¡¯t want us to know.¡±

    ¡°I guess,¡± said Megan. She had been meaning to ask him about the tattoo. ¡°Maybe.¡±

    ¡°And now that you¡¯re here, you can help us,¡± said Beth.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± said Adelin.

    ¡°Help? How?¡± asked Megan.

    The Aldrimar sisters exchanged glances and nodded.

    ¡°Henric might tell you,¡± said Beth. ¡°Or Mathev. And you can get things out of him right?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Megan¡¯s twin brother had never been able to keep a secret from her, usually offering them up willingly. ¡°I mean, if he tells me anything.¡±

    The sisters grinned pretty, mischievous grins.

 Chapter 9

    The Lords Aldrimar and their attendants had been filing into the city since before dawn, each with blaring trumpets and streaming banners. Four times that morning the gates had opened, and four times Henric had sat waiting in the courtyard to receive each of the counts in their turn. Henric was glad for the warm, clear morning which let him wear his most comfortable summer formal wear a little ahead of season. He wasn¡¯t sure he could have endured another day of pomp and ceremony overdressed for the cold mornings and sweating by midday.

    Most of the nobility of the castle assembled outside to welcome their guests. Henric¡¯s mother and sisters, his uncles and their mother, Marek and his children, along with the household knights.

    First to arrive that morning were Count Markan and his younger brother Gelden of Marche, along with sixteen armed men and two attendants for each of the young lords. Their lands were north of Zaksburg, along the border with Barethil. Count Markan was six years older than Henric, and stood a full head taller than he did. He strode right up to Henric and embraced him.

    ¡°Good to see you again my lord cos!¡± said Markan. He had a warm tenor voice and an easy smile.

    ¡°And you,¡± said Henric. ¡°You too Gelden. I¡¯m glad you both could make it.¡±

    The younger brother was a bit younger than Henric, and still looked like a little boy next to his brother. His blonde hair was longer and curlier than his brothers, which did little to help how young he seemed. In spite of their close ages, Henric hadn¡¯t ever spent much time with Gelden. ¡°Thank you,¡± was all he said.

    Markan had already moved down the line, shaking hands and hugging his distant relations, but stopped when he got to Zak. ¡°Zak! I missed you at my tournament last fall, what happened cos?¡±

    ¡°What happened? It was in Marche!¡± said Zak. ¡°I don¡¯t fight for country crowds!¡±

    Markan laughed. ¡°Oh, but the fighters were magnificent! I hurt all over for a week afterwards!¡±

    Zak was laughing too. ¡°So who won that one then? I never did hear.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t?¡± Markan looked surprised. ¡°DuErden took home twenty pounds of my gold.¡±

    Those two continued on like that for a few minutes. Henric could the hushed whispers among Alix and Beth¡¯s ladies in waiting. Though his brother had moved on, Gelden was still hanging nervously about near Henric.

    ¡°Feel free to head inside Geld,¡± said Henric. ¡°There is a meal being prepared in the great hall to welcome you all.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thanks.¡± And the boy went inside the castle.

    Within the hour, the gates opened again to usher in the grey haired Arnult, lord of the western county of Limos. More than three decades Henric¡¯s senior, Arnult was still a fierce warrior and veteran of the Rebellions, and quite possibly the only man alive who had actually known Henric the second, from whom they all claimed descent. In that time, Arnult¡¯s one proud, thick golden mane had faded to grey.

    When Arnult dismounted from his horse, he bowed low before Henric, his fine black cloak scraping the dirt. ¡°My lord Henric, thank you for your hospitality.¡± He turned and looked Henric¡¯s mother and sisters in the eyes, ¡°My condolences to you for the loss of Gareth. He was a wise man and a good lord.¡±

    ¡°Sank you, Lord A¡¯nult,¡± said Lady Kris.

    ¡°Indeed, your kindness is much appreciated my lord. I hope I can live up to my father¡¯s memory.¡±

    The old man seemed to approve of Henric¡¯s formality, nodded, and then continued his way down the line to make his greetings. Unlike Count Markan, Count Arnult let himself inside the castle, preferring to find a comfortable place to sit.

    As they waited for their last arrival, the Count of Uxerre, Zak had found an old ball in one of the storage rooms off the courtyard, and was kicking it back and forth with Count Markan. Soon, Henric and Mathev, and even Beth, Megan, and Adelin had joined into their makeshift game of kicking the ball back and forth between each other without using their hands, while Samael sat in the dirt reading some old book with a red cloth binding. They had finally worked up a good sweat when Count Phillip arrived.

    His lands were the southernmost of all Aldrimar possessions, and were the most connected to the rest of the Erazi kingdom. Because of this connection, Lord Uxerre had been able to collect substantial taxes on the merchants that traveled the kingdom, making him incredibly wealthy.

    This wealth reflected itself in the way he dressed and in the menagerie of attendants who followed him. Phillip was tall and strongly built, his brown eyes and his short cut brown hair gave him hard look. He was bristly and ambitious, and Henric recalled at least a few occasions of his father complaining about the pretensions of the Count of Uxerre.

    ¡°Welcome, Lord Phillip, it is good to see you again,¡± said Henric.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± He wiped the sweat from Henric¡¯s palm off on his cloak, and bowed low to Henric¡¯s mother and kissed her hand. Watching it made him bristle a bit.

    Henric looked around to assess who was still in the yard. He had noticed that Count Arnult had brought a chair out from the hall and had set it at the top of the steps. Gelden sat beside him, listening intently as Arnult spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you could join us Count Phillip,¡± said Henric. ¡°We must be on our way.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± the Count was surprised. ¡°On our way where?¡±

    ¡°There is a ceremony in town for the unveiling of a commemorative statue of my father. It would only be right for all of us to attend.¡±

    And soon, all of those assembled were on their way down the bluff into the city below. They were met by Mayor Thomias in the Lord¡¯s Square, where Henric still remembered the sight of that sea of people crashing about. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, he was in no danger.

    He had made sure of that, assigning his knights to assist the Watch in securing the city around the procession. Lucan had even positioned men on the rooftops to watch for any sign of a threat. And even if he hadn¡¯t had the Watch to guard him, Henric had the sword on his belt. Just feeling the weight of it gave him some assurance.

    Thomias led them through the city to the market square where a large white cloth covered something about nine feet tall in the center. As everyone filed into the square, surrounding the covered statue, Henric noticed there were no civilians around.

    ¡°My lords and ladies!¡± began Thomias, in his most theatrical voice. ¡°I introduce to you, Halad, the sculptor of this fine work!¡± The assembled crowd clapped graciously for the small, wooly man who stepped forward and waved to them all. There were three young men, his apprentices, standing dutifully behind Halad.

    ¡°My lord Henric, would you like the honors?¡±

    ¡°No, thank you mayor Thomias,¡± said Henric. ¡°The honors are all yours.¡±

    Gleefully, Thomias ripped the covering off the statue, and the crowd cheered as a white marble carving of Gareth Aldrimar dressed for battle was revealed. It was a good likeness, but the small plaque at Henric¡¯s father¡¯s feet did not seem to be properly set into the stone. Henric heard muffled swears coming from the sculptor, who rushed one of his apprentices, a tall, dark skinned man, up to fix the small mistake. The apprentice fidgeted with the plaque for a long moment, and Halad shooed him away from the square in shame once he was done.

    ¡°Is it not a perfect likeness my lord?¡± asked Thomias proudly, as though he himself had carved the statue. ¡°It is only fit to commemorate your father for all...¡±

    Thomias was cut off by something like a thunderclap. Before he knew what was happening, Henric was on the ground, winded. It took a moment or two for his vision to come back to him, and he saw people and rubble everywhere, smoke and dust hanging in the air. Henric felt the back of his head, which came away red and wet. He tried to get his feet beneath him, and drew his sword.

    He could see his mother laying on the cobblestones a few feet from where he had been, and he rushed to her side, shaking her. When he didn¡¯t hear his own voice, he noticed he couldn¡¯t hear anything except a high pitched ringing. He shook her again, shouted ¡°MOTHER!¡± but it hardly sounded louder than a whisper.

    Lady Kris¡¯ eyes blinked open, and let out a cry of pain. Looking her over, she didn¡¯t seem to be injured, only bruised. Helping his mother to her feet, he searched for his sisters, and for Mathev, and Megan. Adelin was easy to find, sitting on the ground, curled up in her knees crying. He found Zak helping Alix and one of her handmaids, a girl with fiery red hair called Clare back up and making sure they were alright.

    ¡°What is happening?¡± Henric shouted again. He wasn¡¯t sure if Zak had heard him, as focused as he was on helping the handmaid with her twisted ankle. ¡°Zak! What is going on?¡±

    He looked up. ¡°Hell if I know!¡±

    As the ringing in his hears faded, the world came back into focus. All around him people were crying out in confused pain. Nobody knew what was going on. He looked down at his feet and saw a chunk of his father¡¯s face staring back up at him. Picking it up, he looked to where the statue had once been, and saw only broken rubble. Not everyone had been as lucky as Henric had been.

    The charred, broken body of the stonecutter¡¯s apprentice had been thrown ten feet back from the statue with bits of marble forced into him. Others around had hit by shards of the broken stone, cutting or sticking into them. Some were worse than others, but nobody had escaped without at least a few bruises. Besides the stonecutter¡¯s boy, Count Arnult was injured worst, with a large sharp chunk of stone sticking out from his shoulder.

    Henric knew he had to do something. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore the subtle creeping stench of Death. He looked at the carving of his father¡¯s eye and wondered what he would do. ¡°Everyone! Please try to stay calm. The Watch will be here any moment to help the injured. If you stand and walk, help someone who can¡¯t.¡± It was as though his father was speaking through him, and people listened.

    Rua grinned when he heard the blast from more than a mile away. It had only been the night before that he had managed to finish the etchings for heat on the back side of the plate. The mixture of charcoal and loamsalt had been stashed into a cavity in the statue¡¯s base behind the plate, but bereft of brimstone to catalyze it, it was little more than dirt. And so Rua had made due with an etching that would ignite the mixture quickly, and when Halad sent him to fix the plate, he activated it at the expense of a small amount of his living breath.

    He watched as the guardsmen at the gate in Lord¡¯s Square marched out into the city after the blast, leaving behind a token garrison of four men. Those men were so focused on the commotion in the city that they didn¡¯t notice Rua slip over the wall just behind the gate, and make his way up through the castle.

    From the castle, Rua would learn first hand of the duke¡¯s grandson¡¯s demise, and if the bomb hadn¡¯t worked... He ran his finger along the knife in his cloak. He almost drew it out of reflex when he was stopped at the second gate. ¡°You there,¡± said the guard. ¡°What¡¯s going on out there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Rua. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to get up to the castle and have the steward prepare for injured.¡±

    ¡°Davra,¡± swore the guard. ¡°Better get on then.¡±

    The third gate was open to him and unmanned. He just slipped right in. So they call this a castle? The Aldrimars¡¯ castle was little more than a hodge-podge network of buildings and towers centered around a central, boxy keep. It was a mess of different styles and construction techniques, nothing like the ornate monolithic fortresses of his homeland. For all the time it took him to get there, Rua was simply not impressed.

    No, Henric Aldrimar. Not impressed at all. I shall tell you as much should you still breathe.

 Chapter 10

    His carriage stopping, again, was the last straw for Olverez. He had been sitting in this sweatbox on wheels with only a few rock hard cushions to sit on. Had he wanted to feel a breeze, he would have had to remove one of the small panes of clear glass, and even then it could only have been a small relief.

    ¡°Why in God¡¯s Names have we stopped?¡± he shouted from behind the rag pressed to his face. He dapped the rag in a small amount scented oil, and huffed it again. The perfume was noxious in large amounts, but much better than the stench of his companion. A small hatch at the front of the carriage opened.

    ¡°It looks like the gates are closed, my lord,¡± said Raul, one of his drivers.

    What uncivilized place must lock their gates by day? wondered Olverez. Having seen much of their country on his journey from the capitol, he concluded the Erazi really were little more than savages pretending at civilization. Their people lacked the social graces expected in Sestil. He found it fitting that the savages who once terrorized parts of the Vale were now subject to its greatest king.

    ¡°Make them aware what cargo we carry, and quickly,¡± Olverez snapped back. He was beginning to smell the rot again. The embalmer said that wouldn¡¯t happen. I shall skin him for that lie. Olverez rummaged through his pack, and produced papers sealed and signed in the name of the King of Erazel.

    He heard muttering outside the carriage between Raul and one of the city guards. It sounded heated a moment, and one of the wooden doors to the carriage was flung open, letting in the afternoon daylight. The fair haired guard climbed into the carriage without a word and pulled down the fabric wrapped around Duke Henric Aldrimar¡¯s face. He almost gagged at the sight, and stumbled out.

    ¡°Let them through,¡± he said after he¡¯d finally gotten his stomach back under control. ¡°Send runners to the Captain, the Cathedral, and the castle. Let them know our duke has finally returned to us.¡±

    Lucan and the watch had were escorting them back to the castle through the city streets when Henric heard someone shouting behind them. ¡°Captain Lucan! Urgent news!¡±

    Henric stopped and turned, allowing others to pass by him as he walked back to where Lucan was waiting for the guard. ¡°Sir,¡± said the guard between huffs and wheezes. Then he saw Henric. ¡°My lord, the Duke has returned.¡±

    That took a moment to register with Henric. His grandfather! If the duke had returned, that meant he might free of these duties, at least for a few more years. ¡°Truly? He¡¯s back?¡± asked Henric.

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± said the guard. ¡°As the king promised.¡±

    If Henric had been looking at Lucan¡¯s face, he might have recognized the significance of the guard¡¯s words, but he wasn¡¯t. Instead, he asked ¡°Where is he?¡±

    ¡°On his way to the castle right now my lord.¡±

    ¡°Then what are we waiting for?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t until they had almost reached the Lords Square and the bells at the cathedral began to slowly toll that he remembered what the king¡¯s promise had been. Henric had only been five that day, when the Rebellion was ended in the Peace of Henrics.

    Henric remembered how splendid the king had looked when he marched into the great hall in his finest armor. His long golden hair hung down between his shoulders and his blue and gold cloak dragged on the ground beside him. Henric remembered watching the king drag his grandfather in, bound in chains and forced him to surrender in front of his whole court. Then the king spoke to all of them, ¡°I shall take your duke from you in chains, and only will I return him once he has breathed his last breath.¡±

    They arrived at the top of the hill behind most of the party. Count Arnult and the rest of the injured had already been rushed to Ardas¡¯ care, but the rest had gathered around a carriage as it was being unloaded and unhorsed. The stench of Death hung in the air, and Henric brushed up past them to confirm what he already knew. His grandfather was dead.

    Henric shouted at two of the knights who stood about mourning, ¡°You two! Get your duke inside!¡± He noticed three newcomers, an Azrin noble and his bodyguards. Henric went to them. ¡°I assume you are the ones who have returned my grandfather to us?¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The Azrin glanced at him, and brushed him away with a dismissive gesture. ¡°So I am boy, leave me be,¡± he said with his thick, buzzing accent.

    ¡°Boy?¡± said Henric. ¡°I will forgive you that this once, because you are a stranger in our lands and to our ways. What is your name, my lord?¡±

    The Azrin gave him a second glance, and reevaluated his situation. ¡°I am called Olverez, cousin and minister to king Gundemaro.¡±

    ¡°Ah! How good to have a cousin to the king in our home! Please, join us for the Rites at least. You have come so far with my grandfather.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Olverez shook his head. ¡°I have other matters I must attend to, I cannot stay long.¡±

    Good, thought Henric. ¡°And if I should insist?¡±

    ¡°I too would insist, my lord. We must be away.¡± And soon they were.

    As though he had been waiting in the wings, Count Phillip soon swept in. His arm was in a makeshift sling, though Henric did not remember seeing him seriously injured in the blast. ¡°Henric, it is time for us to call the council.¡±

    ¡°Now? Really?¡± Henric snapped. He was in no mood for ceremonial dickering.

    ¡°After what has just happened?¡± the count snapped back. ¡°Of course now. We have much we need to discuss.¡±

    ¡°There are more important things right now.¡± Figuring out what had happened back in the city for starters. Burying his grandfather. Whatever Phillip wanted could wait.

    ¡°There is nothing more important that the succession.¡±

    Soon the Lords Aldrimar had been assembled in the council chamber. Count Arnult¡¯s stretcher had been brought in, and he was allowed to rest comfortably while attending the proceedings, and at Henric¡¯s insistence, his uncles Zak and Samael joined them, though they were not lords themselves.

    ¡°What the hell are we all doing down here?¡± asked Markan.

    ¡°If you would learn some patience, you might actually learn why,¡± sneered Phillip. ¡°We have several urgent matters to discuss. The first being naming our duke¡¯s successor.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s simple,¡± said Zak. ¡°It¡¯s Henric.¡±

    ¡°It is not so simple as that,¡± countered Phillip. He unrolled a piece of parchment on the table before him. ¡°The duke never named the boy his successor. He names his late son Gareth as successor.¡±

    ¡°And my father named me as his heir and successor in all things,¡± said Henric. ¡°What are you playing at Phillip?¡±

    ¡°I am not playing boy. I will not suffer a child as my duke.¡±

    ¡°Really Phillip? The law says-¡± asked Markan in disbelief.

    Phillip turned on him, ¡°We are the law. If we should choose to do something different than fathers, who is to stop us. I¡¯d think you¡¯d be in agreement with me on this after what just happened down in the city, after the injuries Arnult took? How can you trust him to govern us?¡±

    ¡°How would you have prevented a blast like that?!¡± shouted Henric, slamming a fist into the table. ¡°You talk like you understand, but you don¡¯t. That was the second attempt on my life in a month. I thought I had taken precautions, but how do you prevent magic? I¡¯m almost willing to believe you had something to do with it Phillip.¡±

    ¡°You see this outburst?¡± asked the count incredulously. ¡°And to accuse me of attempted kinslaying? The boy proves himself a fool! Come now, he is no duke!¡±

    Arnult hacked and coughed from his seat. ¡°And you would have us name you heir, eh cos? I¡¯d sooner have King Wicked as my suzerain than you.¡±

    ¡°I never suggested myself,¡± deflected Phillip. ¡°I would gladly serve if you all should agree I am best fit, but I would follow you, or even young Marche over this boy.¡±

    ¡°But Henric is my father¡¯s heir,¡± asserted Zak again.

    ¡°Not truly, brother,¡± said Samael. Henric felt betrayed at his uncle¡¯s words. ¡°Gareth was not allowed to name a ducal successor, no. But he did name Henric as his successor in all things, including his inheritances. Your pretext is thin Phillip.¡±

    ¡°So how do you say we settle this?¡± asked Henric. ¡°A duel?¡±

    Markan pricked up at the suggestion, but Phillip only laughed and held up his arm, ¡°Hardly. I intend to put this matter before the court to judge.¡±

    ¡°And the court will not hear it,¡± interrupted Arnult. ¡°You think you are so clever cos, but you I will not allow you to make a spectacle of this. Our grandfather, the second Henric split his lands so that his sons could fight together, not one another. Let us put it to a vote and be done with it. We have gone too long without a duke already.¡±

    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s,¡± agreed Phillip. He turned on Zak and Samael, ¡°The duke¡¯s sons do not vote, since they hold no lands of their own.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± said the other two counts before Henric had a chance to protest. A steward was called in, and each of them was provided with a quill, ink, and a scrap of paper. They each wrote a name on the paper, and they were collected by the steward.

    He read them out, one by one. ¡°Henric.¡±

    Henric looked carefully at the faces of the Lords Aldrimar, trying to read their expressions, but found nothing. At least he had one vote already.

    ¡°Phillip.¡±

    He watched a brief, smug grin flash across the count¡¯s face, but it was the second call of ¡°Phillip.¡± which cracked his stoney expression.

    He had never thought it would come to this. Sure, he had his doubts if he could even do it, but when his fate hung in the balance like that, Henric knew what he really wanted. In that moment, he decided no matter what, he wouldn¡¯t surrender his grandfather¡¯s titles to anyone.

    So when the steward called out ¡°Henric,¡± again, he let out a massive sigh or relief, unaware he had even been holding his breath. For a moment, he just enjoyed the unpleasant look on Phillip¡¯s face.

    They voted again and again, and twice more the results were the same. ¡°Enough!¡± said Henric after the third vote. ¡°The sun is setting, let us retire and take this up again in the morning.¡± That time the vote was unanimous.

 Chapter 11

    ¡°How¡¯s your arm?¡± Henric asked softly from the foot of her bed.

    The South Hall was filled with pained moans and their echoes. Megan pulled her blanket up close with her good arm. The afternoon sun was creeping higher and higher up the far wall, and it was getting colder.

    ¡°Ardas says it¡¯s broken,¡± she said. When the statue of Henric¡¯s father exploded, a small part of his chest broke off and snapped the bone in her right arm. ¡°But I feel alright.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± said Henric absently. He was looking over his shoulder at a few of the other cots. The Count of Limos lay unconscious a few beds over. His injuries had been far worse than hers had been, and a large piece of the statue had lodged itself in his chest. Ardas, the Aldrimar¡¯s old steward had already removed the biggest chunks, and was now cleaning out the smallest bits from the wound.

    She brushed her left hand against his thigh. ¡°Henric, it¡¯s not your fault.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± he said. ¡°That explosion was supposed to get me. Everyone else is collateral damage, and I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± said Megan.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s trying to kill me Megan,¡± he said. She didn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d seen him this scared. Or angry. The look in his green eyes said he wanted to hurt someone, or to cry. ¡°I¡¯ve been lucky so far. But every time I leave the castle someone has tried to kill me.¡±

    ¡°Nobody but a god can make a statue do that,¡± said Megan. ¡°And if that¡¯s the case, then they¡¯re definitely not trying to kill you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not necessarily true,¡± said Ardas. He poured out a large brass basin into a tub, and filled it with fresh water from another. ¡°There¡¯s old priests that know how to break stone like that.¡±

    ¡°Old priests?¡± asked Henric. ¡°You don¡¯t know how they did it, do you Ardas?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I do Master Henric,¡± said the steward as he pulled a few clean rags off the rack and walked back to his patient. ¡°And leave that poor girl alone, she needs rest.¡±

    Henric was sitting quietly, staring blankly past the floor. He always looked that way when his head was in the clouds somewhere, even when they were kids.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Hey,¡± said Megan. ¡°What is it?¡± She knew better than to ask if ¡®everything was alright¡¯.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Henric. ¡°I¡¯ve just been trying to figure out how he did it. I think I need to talk with my uncle.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Megan.

    He stood, and turned to the bed beside Megan¡¯s where his sister lay sleeping.

    ¡°If she wakes up, let her know I was here,¡± he said.

    Megan nodded. ¡°I will.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. Get some rest.¡±

    After Henric left, she really did try to rest. It came easy, and she was soon fast asleep and far away. She was standing on the balcony again, looking out from the palace ballroom over the city of Zael. From there they could watch the ships and their nightfires move through the bay with moonlight in their sails. Antoine stood beside her, telling her some story and grinning that handsome smile that wasn¡¯t really for her.

    She heard a scream of pain echo out across the bay, and then another, until soon it seemed as though the whole city was aflame. But when she looked at Antoine he was still smiling, still laughing.

    Megan woke shortly after sundown. She looked to her right, saw that Beth had already left, and decided she was feeling well enough to be escorted home. The chamber was kept warm by the low fires lit in the hearths, but besides the bright light of both moons, it was dark and there were no servants on hand. Careful not to jostle her arm, she stood. Even through the wool socks, the stone floor was cold to the touch, and she quickly skipped her way out into the hallway.

    ¡°Hello,¡± she said. ¡°Is anyone there?¡±

    Perhaps it they were all at supper. She wondered if Mathev and Father had gone home yet, or if they had stayed in the castle the evening meal. If they¡¯d already gone, it might be better for her to find one of the extra rooms and lay down for the night. Anywhere was better than in Ardas¡¯ makeshift infirmary.

    She could hear voices from the Great Hall, and stopped by it¡¯s balcony to see if they her family might still be there. It looked like it was the servants dinner, because she couldn¡¯t see her father or any of the Aldrimars, but it seemed like half the castle¡¯s garrison was below, eating. She could feel her stomach aching at the smells of bread and pork and wine, and decided bed could wait.

    As the door to the Great Hall shut behind her, the hallway was almost creepily silent. She thought she heard something off in the distance, some noise coming from the east tower.

    ¡°Hello?¡± she called, making her way over to the tower stairs.

    There it was again. It sound like someone shouting. That sounded like Henric!

    ¡°Guards!¡±

    This time it was unmistakable. Henric was definitely in the tower, and he was definitely in trouble. Without a second thought she ran back to the balcony door and barged it open with her left shoulder. It made a loud clack against the stone work on the other side, and some of the diners were already looking around when she appeared at the banister.

    ¡°Guards!¡± she shouted. ¡°Quickly, Master Henric is calling for guards in the East Tower!¡±

 Chapter 12

    The sun had long since set by the time Henric Aldrimar finally returned to his bedchamber. Luckily the stewards had already been in to light a fire in his small stove, and Henric lit a candle from it. He sat down at his desk, resting his sheathed sword against it. He opened a drawer, and placed the Book flat on the desk. He hoped that maybe there was something in the old leather journal that could help him sway the Lords Aldrimar to his case. He would search all night if he had to.

    ¡°The eldest son shall rule the younger,¡± wrote Zakaran in a long, flowing cursive. ¡°and so protect them. The younger shall do their duty to their eldest brother as their father and their lord.¡± Which of course, was completely unhelpful for Henric. The great Zakaran Aldrimar had died with three sons, and only one a grown man, and so his succession had been clear. In fact, according to the Book, nothing like this had ever happened before, each Aldrimar succeeded by his eldest son in an unbroken line from that first Zakaran to Henric¡¯s own grandfather.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± he said to the empty room. ¡°What the hell am I going to do?¡±

    Rua had been waiting behind that wardrobe for hours in silence. He had watched servants come and go, tending to the bed, the privy, the small fireplace, but it wasn¡¯t until well after sunset that the boy himself came in. Rua had to focus to quiet his beating heart, sure it might give him away, but the boy did not seem to notice.

    He watched the young Henric cross the room and light a candle from the small fireplace before sitting down at the room¡¯s small desk, his back to the wardrobe. Excellent. He had his blade ready since that afternoon when he¡¯d first found this hiding spot, and as the boy began to read, Rua silently slipped out into the room.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± said the boy. Rua froze only step behind him, blade ready. ¡°What the hell am I supposed to do?¡±

    Behind him, the cupboard door creaked.

    Henric turned in his chair to check the source of the creak. A flash of metal was coming right at his neck, and he flinched out of the way, taking the blade in his shoulder. He let out a cry of pain and dove to the floor, reaching for his sword.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to fight me boy,¡± said the assassin. His accent was thick, and Henric had a hard time placing it, but it certainly wasn¡¯t Erazi. ¡°You¡¯ve been lucky twice so far, but no more. This time you die!¡±

    The assassin chased after him with slow, deliberate, almost silent steps. Henric was crawling as fast as he could while trying to fumble his sword out of it¡¯s sheath. His heart was racing, and he could feel a mixture of panic and rage, and Death.

    Suddenly the assassin had a grip on his foot, and yanked him back to the center of the room with a single mighty tug. He made to stab Henric in his exposed belly, but the boy whipped himself with all his weight and kicked the assassin in the ribs, allowing the boy to escape. In an instant he was on his feet and bolting out the door.

    ¡°Help!¡± Henric shouted. ¡°Guards! There¡¯s an intruder in the east tower! I need guards!¡± He looked left and then right. The stairs to his left led up to the top of the tower, to the Duke¡¯s chambers and the rooftop above that, to his right they led down into the main part of the castle, where the guests would be. It wasn¡¯t until he heard someone shouting ¡®Henric!'' up the stairs from below that he knew which way to run.

    As he ran up the stairs, Henric was finally able to undo the clasps that kept his blade in its sheath. He could hear the assassin only a few steps behind him. If he could just stay ahead of the assassin, if he could just get to the roof, there¡¯d be plenty of room to fight with his sword, and the assassin would have nowhere to go when the guards finally caught up. He forced himself to run faster, as fast as he could, until he pushed open the hatch and emerged into the cool night air and the brightness of both moons.

    The boy had run to the top of the tower, and finally pulled that sword of his free, taking up a defensive stance. Rua laughed. ¡°You think that will save you?¡± he asked as he circled the boy, his dagger at the ready. He had forgotten how much fun it was to corner prey.

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    "Stay back," the boy threatened. He was smart enough at least to keep the point of his sword trained on Rua. That wouldn''t save him, once he swung, Rua could slip in. There would be a gap, and that''s all he would need.

    They had circled each other twice, both tense, ready to swing at the other. I can¡¯t let my guard down, Henric thought. He watched the assassin¡¯s footwork, light and effortless. Henric was certain that even with that small blade he had, the assassin would only need an instant to end his life. If he had his shield, if he wasn¡¯t dressed in his eveningwear but his armor instead, he might have had a chance. What would Zak do?

    A hard wind blew from the northwest, chilling him to the bone. Cold as Death. He felt himself shiver, and in an instant the assassin was on him. He brought his sword up to counter the blade, and felt them connect, and ducked into the assassin¡¯s blow. He let his blade slip and the assassin¡¯s slid right off into the air where he had just been. Henric left an upward slash along his ribcage as retreated behind the assassin.

    ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± he shouted at the man. ¡°Why are you trying to kill me?¡±

    ¡°You wish I would give you my name so you can offer it to the Keeper of the Damned? I am no fool Henric Aldrimar.¡± With each word, the assassin closed in. ¡°No, you will die without my name, never knowing which Fate chose you for so early a grave.¡±

    Henric swung. The assassin stopped it with his blade, and then grabbed the blade with his leathered hand. With a single motion he ripped it from Henric¡¯s grip and sent it scattering across the stones behind them. Henric stepped backwards, stumbling when the back of his foot met one of the small riser steps. The hard stones hurt when he landed on their sharp edges, but he kept backing away from the assassin, blade in hand. Henric felt his back come up against the low crenelated wall that marked the edge of the tower and stopped. There was nowhere else to run.

    ¡°No more!¡± growled the assassin. He stomped his foot down hard into his belly, winding him and sticking him in place. ¡°Enjoy your last breath!¡± Henric closed his eyes as the assassin started swinging for his chest. He heard a thrum, and another thrum, and felt the splash of warm blood on his face.

    He opened his eyes, to see two bloody quarrels protruding from the assassin¡¯s chest. The easterner had a look of stunned surprise on his face, but Henric wasted no time. He kicked as hard as he could between the man¡¯s legs and he stumbled twice, lost his balance, and slipped right over the edge of the wall. Henric turned to watch the assassin fall almost three hundred feet into the river below.

    ¡°My lord,¡± said one of the guards. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    Henric brushed him away. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Is everyone else alright?¡±

    ¡°They are my lord,¡± said the other.

    ¡°Good,¡± said Henric. ¡°I owe you two my life. Thank you. You¡¯ll both have knighthoods for this.¡± They turned to each other, beaming.

    He turned back to watch the river, and saw only the inky blackness. He sighed, and with it let out some of his tension. For the first time in weeks, he felt a little safer, and it was a comforting thought.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Lucan?¡± he shouted at the few guards who were just standing awestruck by the stairs. ¡°Go find him, and have him meet me in the study. The rest of you, come with me. It¡¯s cold out here, someone get me a cloak.¡±

    It felt good to get the cold wind off his bare legs, but their stiffness made the stairs difficult. He took a rest at one of the benches outside the duke¡¯s chambers, wincing as his shoulder made light contact with the wall.

    ¡°Henric,¡± said a small voice. He looked over to see Adelin, his little sister on the steps with Megan just behind.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asked Adelin. ¡°Megan heard yelling, is everything alr...¡± Her eyes went wide when she saw the blood soaking his shirt from his shoulder and rushed over to him in tears.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Addy,¡± said Henric as she hugged him. ¡°No reason to worry.¡±

    ¡°How can you say that?¡± she scolded through tears. ¡°We almost died today! And you¡¯re bleeding now!¡±

    ¡°You should see what I did to the guy who did this to me.¡±

    This water was the coldest thing Rua had ever felt. Colder than the peaks of the Gharas where he had spent the earliest days of his training. So this is dying. He thought about all those he had sent this way before him, and if he could have let out a cry with his waterlogged, punctured lungs he would have. He would die a failure, there would be no glory for him in death. Instead he would be forced to spend eternity at the mercy of all those whose lives he took, the ultimate punishment for those who fail in their service.

    As he floated there, face down and drowning, somewhere between Life and Death he noticed the moonlight had disappeared, leaving only blackness behind him. He thought he saw something moving in the water. He felt it grab hold of him, wrap itself around him. He felt it force open his mouth and snake its way down his throat. There was so much pain as it began to eat him alive from the inside. He tried to scream, but couldn¡¯t.

    In his last moment of consciousness, as the thing began to wrap itself around his head devouring his thoughts, he heard it speak. ¡°It shall serve,¡± it hissed.

    And Rua agreed, his final thought as the thing consumed the last of him was ¡°Yes, I shall serve.¡±

 Chapter 13

    The fifteen Azrin golds clinked against each other as Henric upended the pouch on the desk.  King¡¯s gold, he thought. ¡°I want you to find the body¡± he said.  ¡°Even if you have to damn the river.¡±

    The captain nodded.  ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I mean it,¡± said Henric.  ¡°Without that body I have no proof anyone even came after me.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my lord,¡± said Lucan.  ¡°We will begin tonight.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lucan,¡± he was calculating how large of a bonus to give the captain.  Maybe I¡¯ll let him have all of these.  ¡°Have your men call the Lords Aldrimar to council at once, my uncles too.  You may go.¡±

    ¡°Should I have a steward sent up?¡± the captain asked, shrugging towards the unlit fireplace.  The richly furnished office¡¯s only light came from the small candle on Henric¡¯s desk.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± said Henric.  ¡°I¡¯ve got it..¡±

    As he brushed the coins off the desk back into their pouch, he kicked up a light cloud of dust and coughed.  With the candle in hand, Henric went over to the fireplace and found old, brittle, dust covered logs.  Fair enough, he thought.  Nobody¡¯s been up here in two years.  That changed now though.  Luckily the wood was dry and sparked quickly, bathing the whole room in orange.

    Located on the very top floor of the main part of the house, just above the library at the southeast end.  It shared the large window wall that stretched the five stories from the council chambers all the way to where the lattice of metal and glass seemed to fuse into the stone.  His father had told him once that the glasswork had cost the second Henric almost three years of incomes.  Both moons shone brightly that night casting the countryside in pale light, and Henric found himself staring out into its comforting peace.

    I wonder if a swimmer would be able to pull the body out of the river? he thought.  Without the assassin¡¯s corpse, he still couldn¡¯t answer the big question, he couldn¡¯t know who wanted him dead.  He tried thinking of the consequences to see if he couldn¡¯t puzzle out a few suspects.  If he had died, there likely would have been infighting among the Aldrimars over succession, though he hadn¡¯t needed to die for that to happen.

    Count Phillip certainly fits the motivation, thought Henric.  But he wouldn¡¯t have put himself in harms way by attending this morning if he¡¯d known.  Then who else?  And how did they even pull the blast off?

    House Aldrimar certainly had earned the ire of a few of the other noble houses in the past, and though tensions had fallen since the end of the Rebellions nine years ago, that certainly didn¡¯t mean the other dukes were above suspicion.  But Henric found himself looking at the coin purse in his hand.  Sestilan Crowns, he thought, and couldn¡¯t help but wonder what part the king had in all this.

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    It was still well before dawn as the Lords Aldrimar sleepily assembled in the council chamber.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± asked Count Phillip when he entered to find the large council table removed and only a single seat on the stage.

    ¡°The meaning of this Phillip?¡± said Henric.  ¡°Is that I am done playing games.  There will be no more votes, no more discussion.  At noon today, we will perform the Rites and I will be confirmed as duke.¡±

    ¡°How absurd!¡± started Phillip.  ¡°I will not simply...¡±

    Henric cut him off.  ¡°Yes, you will.  Simply.¡±  He pulled back his robe to reveal the bandages on his left shoulder.  ¡°There was an intruder in my castle tonight.  Waiting for me in my own room, and almost killed me.¡±  He motioned to the two guardsmen behind him.  ¡°If not for these two you all would be burying two Henric Aldrimars tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°And you think I had something to do with it?¡± asked Phillip.

    Oh, not at all, thought Henric.  ¡°You¡¯ve given me every reason to.  It was you after all that challenged my succession.¡±  Henric enjoyed watching the count¡¯s face pale.  ¡°None of my other guests arrived with as many followers.  Perhaps you snuck him in with the rest, confident nobody would suspect you.¡±

    ¡°I did no such thing!¡± Phillip cried.  Henric could see the seeds of doubt taking root in the counts of Marche and Limos. He had them.

    Henric turned his face away in an attempt to hide a grin.  Guards stood ready to arrest the count at Henric¡¯s order.  ¡°I would be inclined to believe you cousin if there were not this rift between us.  As it stands, I have no reason to suspect anyone else.¡±

    Uxerre caught his meaning and sighed, defeated.  ¡°Fine.  I withdraw my claim.¡±

    At high noon that day, the city had gathered at the Cathedral of Theori to celebrate the final Rites of their duke, Henric Aldrimar the Third.  The duke¡¯s grandson stood next to his grandfather¡¯s casket awaiting Father Ulan¡¯s signal.  Over his funeral blacks, Henric wore a black surcoat with a single vertical band of crimson baring in the white roaring lion on his breast.  His mother had warned him against the splash of red, worried it might offend the crowd.  Henric didn¡¯t care, he was sick of mourning.

    The priest began the ceremony, and hundreds of faces watched as Henric pushed his grandfather¡¯s casket down the aisle and to the pulpit where it was opened and displayed to the crowd.  Duke Henric¡¯s mutilated face had been bandaged and reshaped by the embalmer, but it was still an unsettling sight and stunk so bad even the others were scrunching up their noses.

    As Ulan produced and blessed the seven oils, Henric stood stared at his grandfather, wondering what had happened to his head.  One by one, the old duke was anointed as the priest chanted.  When the sixth oil was done, the priest motioned for the congregation to rise.

    Holding the seventh oil high so all could see, the priest began ¡°As we say goodbye to our Duke Henric Aldrimar, we ask the Lords Above to bless his grandson with all his wisdom and benevolence.¡±

    ¡°Amen,¡± said the crowd.

    And with a tilt of the priest¡¯s hand, the oil poured out and burst into an intense violet flame on his grandfather¡¯s forehead.  Henric concentrated on the flame, and he and Father Ulan began to speak the ancient words in unison.  The violet flame became violent and wild, thrashing everywhere which almost made Henric take a step back.  He felt a drop of the oil on his forehead followed by an intense burning as the flame leapt from his grandfather to him and enveloped his head.

    ¡°Agh!¡± Henric cried out fell to one knee.  The whole congregation took a breath, and sighed collectively when the Duke of Zaksburg stood again after only a moment, flames subsiding.

    Henric sat silently as the priest began another of his long sermons on the nature of death.  Though the flames had subsided, he still felt an intense throbbing pain his skull.  As the priest went on, Henric¡¯s eyes grew heavier and heavier, and the young duke fell asleep on his pew.