Quest for the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga Book 3) Page 8

  With a battle cry, Yissa charged at the guards. Her first target raised his shield to block the incoming attack, but Asphodel sliced through it like a hot knife through butter, cutting him in half. Yissa parried an incoming blow, and Asphodel shattered the steel sword of the guardsman.

  Despite being heavily outnumbered, Yissa was nigh on invincible with Asphodel in hand. She seemed to move with supernatural agility, as though she could see the guards’ attacks before they even happened. Within a few short moments, all of the guards lay dead at her feet.

  “That sword does not belong to you,” came a voice from the doorway.

  Luxon crawled forward to get a look at the newcomer.

  Walking slowly into the hall was a man. His piercing blue eyes were offset by a thick bushy black beard and a thick head of wild hair. Around his neck was an amulet in the shape of a Raven, and his long cloak was ragged and worn. Under the cloak, he wore a simple tunic and breeches, and his boots were caked with dirt. In his right hand, he held a staff that was engraved with runes and topped off by an obsidian stone.

  “Niveren?” Luxon whispered. The man looked different, but even the thick beard and wild hair could not disguise those eyes. A realisation struck him like a thunderbolt. When he first saw Niveren, he felt a kind of familiarity, but now that the face was not hidden by a helmet it was unmistakable. His mentor, Thanos had the same eyes. The thought was too crazy to contemplate – was Grand Master Thanos Niveren?

  “So the wizard makes an appearance,” Yissa spat. “You’re too late, Raven. Markus and his whore are dead.”

  The wizard who called himself Raven shook his head sadly. “What have you done?” he muttered to himself.

  Luxon frowned. Raven seemed to be talking to himself, not to Yissa.

  Raven raised a hand and, with powerful magic, yanked Asphodel out of the princess’s hands. Yissa cried out. Raven’s piercing eyes settled upon her, and without another word or hint of mercy, the wizard snapped her neck with a just a gesture. The princess toppled to the floor. Raven stared at Asphodel, a look of deep sadness in his eyes.

  Running footsteps sounded from outside, and soon a group of heavily armed men arrived. At seeing the carnage, they let out yells of anger and frustration. Some even wept. One fell to his knees next to Markus’s body, a look of utter devastation on his face.

  Raven banged his staff on the ground to get the men’s attention.

  “Your king is dead. Slain, by treachery. The hard-won victory that Markus won is now in grave danger. Soon this land will once again be thrown into the chaos of war. Riis, you have the best claim to your brother’s throne, but others will challenge you for it.”

  The man who was holding Markus’s head in his lap looked at the wizard. His eyes were red from crying. Raven strode over to him and offered Asphodel to him.

  That is Riis, the first true king of Delfinnia! Luxon thought excitedly. The portals had shown him some horrendous things, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated. The scholar in him loved the experience.

  “You will need this if you are to win the day and make a reality your brother’s vision of a truly unified land,” Raven said, handing Riis the blade.

  As Riis shaking hand gripped the sword’s hilt, the world seemed to freeze.

  Luxon sat confused. He waited a few minutes before moving from his hiding spot. Cautiously, he stepped towards the frozen figures. He stood in front of Riis and waved a hand in front of his face. There was no reaction.

  “What is going on?” Luxon asked out loud.

  He turned his attention to the mysterious Raven. Now that he was stood face to face with the man, the resemblance to Grand Master Thanos was uncanny. The bright eyes and the nose were identical.

  “Hello,” said a voice from behind him.

  Luxon cried out and nearly jumped out of his skin at the new voice. He spun around to see Lycia. The Lady of the Isle gave him a reassuring smile before walking over to the frozen figure of Raven. She reached out and gently brushed the wizard’s cheek, a look of deep sorrow on her delicate face.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Luxon. Forgive me,” she said distractedly. “I am projecting myself here via magic. I had wondered whether the portals would show you this. It seems that the time is nearly at hand for him to reveal himself to you.”

  “What do you mean? What is all this?” Luxon asked.

  Lycia sighed as she took her gaze from Raven.

  “The portals show those who enter what they need to know. Those gifted with magic are shown things that are important to their lives. Often it is their past, present and future that they see. Occasionally they may see glimpses of other places or even other worlds. Most of the wielders who have stepped through them see things of little consequence, but some – those with a destiny – are shown a lot more. The fact that you see these events from history means that your destiny is an important one.”

  Luxon looked away, unable to meet Lycia’s intense eyes.

  “Why me? I never asked for this.”

  Lycia smiled and took his hand in hers.

  “All who live through such times ask the same question. I have no answer as to why you are special, Luxon. You are close to the Waters of Magic. They will purify you and remove the dark taint of the Void.”

  She pointed to a portal that had appeared in front of the doorway, but Luxon hesitated.

  “One question before I go. I know this sounds crazy, but the resemblance is uncanny. Is Raven Grand Master Thanos?”

  Lycia turned to look at Raven again. The sadness in her eyes was unmistakable.

  “He is,” she said softly.

  “How can that be? How do you know him?” Luxon pressed earnestly.

  “Niveren is his real name. A man cursed to be immortal and who has lived since the dawn of creation. A man who has had the weight of the world on his shoulders for countless millennia. He is revered as a god, but has had to watch those who claim to act in his name commit unspeakable horrors and create wonders. He is a man who has had to live with the consequences of a choice he made, a choice that threatens the world again today.”

  Luxon’s mind was racing. The visions he had been shown now made sense.

  “Danon is the choice you speak of,” he said. Bitterness flashed in his heart. The revelation was almost too much to comprehend. The man who was his mentor, the man who had trained him and sent him to find his mother, was the very same man who had allowed Danon to inflict so much misery onto the world.

  “Do not hate him, Luxon. You do not understand what he has been through.”

  “Why doesn’t he face Danon, why doesn’t he find Asphodel and end this! Why must it be me?” Luxon said angrily. “Is he a coward?”

  “Danon is his brother. He knows that he cannot kill his own blood. He believes that Danon was tricked and seduced by evil, that the terrible things he has done are not his choice. I also think the bond they share is what pushed him to mercy. Both he and Danon were cursed by the gods to be immortal. He has seen all of those he has ever loved die or …” She paused, tears had formed in her eyes. “… or leave him.”

  Luxon’s anger subsided as he watched the strange woman weep. His eyes widened as he realised who she was.

  “It wasn’t just Niveren and Danon who were cursed to live forever. The God of Balance cursed all of those who he had created with his own hand. Cliria was the bride of Danon; she too was immortal. You...you’re Esma, aren’t you? The bride of Niveren.”

  She nodded a deep sadness in her eyes.

  “I have not heard that name for centuries,” she said wistfully. “I cannot recall when I last went by it. I have guarded this sacred place for so long. Niveren wanted us to leave this land, to seek a place where we could live alone and in peace for all time. I refused. I would not turn my back on the world. We quarrelled, and I have not seen him since that day.”

  Esma gripped Luxon’s hand.

  “You must promise me that you will keep my identity a secret, Luxon. Niveren’s too.
If Danon should ever learn that we are in Delfinnia, he will stop at nothing to find us.”

  Luxon looked away. If Esma, an immortal, was so afraid of Danon, then what chance did he have?

  “I will keep your secret. I dread to think what Danon could do if he got his hands on this place,” he replied with a shudder.

  Danon had already proven that he had the ability to harness magical power. Luxon had seen it with his own eyes when in the Void. Danon had slain and absorbed the God Vectrix; he’d taken power from the dragons and made it his own.

  “If he finds this place there will be no stopping him,” Esma said. “He will use the portals to spread his evil to every world in existence. Fortunately, I have devised a way to bring this chamber down upon him in case he ever set foot inside.”

  Esma looked away, distracted.

  “I will leave you now to finish your journey. Every step you have taken brings you closer to the Waters of Magic. I will see you soon.”

  Esma offered him a reassuring smile before closing her eyes. A blue light formed around her and she disappeared. Luxon blinked in surprise. Teleportation magic? He had read about the ability but had never seen it used. The mages of Caldaria claimed to have lost much knowledge with the fall of the Golden Empire. Once he was done with the portals, he would have to ask Esma to teach him. Such an ability would be very useful.

  The scene before him remained frozen. Luxon’s only choice was the portal.

  “Okay, let’s see where this one takes me,” he muttered.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped through.

  11.

  Robinta

  Baron Rusay Broadmane raised his wine goblet to his lips and savoured the delicious white wine as it bombarded his taste buds. The previous day’s events had been exhausting; the kingdom was in a more perilous state than he had first assumed. Encountering the Heroes of Eclin on his return trip from the Ridder Valley had been a welcome relief. He rubbed his tired eyes; he wanted nothing more than to blow out the flickering candle that illuminated his study, but duty prevented him from doing so.

  “Are you not drinking, master Nightblade?” Rusay asked the man sat on the other side of his mahogany desk.

  Ferran shook his head. “No. I think I had a bit too much at the feast earlier. Robintan hospitality certainly lives up to its reputation.”

  Faramond, Sophia and Hannah had all retreated to the bed chambers assigned to them by the baron’s manservant. A good night’s sleep in a proper bed would do them all a world of good. Even Ferran, who was used to sleeping in the wilds, was eager to join his wife in the land of nod.

  “You said you wanted to ask me something?” Ferran pressed.

  Rusay leant back in his high-backed chair and lifted his legs so that his booted feet rested upon the surface of the desk.

  “I did. I have a very big request to make of you. One that will be very dangerous, and one I fear that could prove vital to the realm.”

  Ferran leant forward in his chair. When wasn’t the request of barons or kings vital to the realm? he thought.

  “I want you to travel to Sunguard, infiltrate the palace and rescue the king from the clutches of Ricard and Trentian.”

  Ferran raised an eyebrow and reached for the empty glass on the desk. “I think I will have another drink,” he said.

  Rusay poured the wine and slid the glass over to Ferran.

  “So,” Ferran said, “you want me, my wife and the others to rescue a boy king from a palace that will be crawling with Ricard’s goons, and then what? Bring him to you? Exchange one baron for another?”

  Rusay frowned at the Nightblade’s tone. “All I want is to keep Alderlade safe. For the good of the realm.”

  Ferran downed his wine before rising slowly. “For the good of the realm? These past few months have made it clear to me that none of you barons has that in mind. It seems to me that if you did, you would be marching with every man who could wield a sword south to Bison. The men of the King’s Legion are fighting and dying while you cower in your valley looking for ways to gain power for yourself. You do realise that if the Legion falls, there will be nothing from stopping Danon from sweeping across the kingdom?”

  Rusay stood up, slamming his fist onto the desk. The impact rattled the glasses on its surface. His face was red with fury.

  “How dare you! I have no desire for the throne. I have seen good men die for that dream. All I desire is peace, and to serve my king. Davik was my friend; is it so wrong of me to seek vengeance against his murderer? You speak of armies – if you do not do this thing. I will march every single one of my men to Sunguard to rescue the king, but bloodshed will be the only result.”

  The two men glared at one another, the Baron trembling with rage. Ferran held Rusay’s gaze forcing the Baron to look away. Few men could match the Nightblade’s dark eyes.

  “If we do this,” Ferran said softly, breaking the awkward silence that had descended over the room, “I will take the king to Caldaria. He will be safe with the mages, both from Danon and the intrigues of the barons.”

  Rusay opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it.

  “In exchange,” Ferran continued, “you will raise your army and petition the other barons to do the same, and tell them to march to Ricard’s aid. Only together can we hope to stop Danon’s advance.”

  For a few moments Ferran thought that the Baron would reject his offer, but Rusay sighed heavily.

  “I agree to your conditions, Nightblade. However, once this war is ended, I will make Ricard pay for his crimes. Go, and once this task is done send word. My army will be ready to march at the end of the month. Now leave me.”

  Ferran bowed his head before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. Once in the corridor outside he headed toward the guest quarters and his wife.

  “Sophia is going to kill me for this,” he muttered.

  *

  To Ferran’s surprise, his wife had taken the news that they would be heading off on another dangerous adventure quite well. She had only hurled one vase at him, and the bruise on his arm was already beginning to fade. After her initial anger at him and Rusay, she had calmed down, before reluctantly agreeing that rescuing the king from Sunguard was a necessity.

  Now, after a rather restless night’s sleep, they were back on the road. Faramond hadn’t said a word at hearing the news, and Hannah had agreed without hesitation. Sophia had tried to convince the young woman to return to Caldaria and safety, but Hannah had argued that while Luxon was out there somewhere, she could not just sit still and do nothing. The fiery determination that had been in her eyes had quickly quashed any argument on the matter.

  Each of the group had been given new horses and packs filled with supplies. Food and water would not be an issue this trip; Rusay had been generous.

  The day was sunny and cool, but as every day went by, the temperature fell. Winter would soon fall over the kingdom. Ferran surmised that was what Ricard had been counting on when he had led the Legion to Bison. Unlike the warm lands of Robinta, the vast Bison Plains saw temperatures fall well below freezing in the winter. Danon’s men and monsters alike would freeze while the Legion would be protected by the city of Bison’s walls.

  “I cannot go with you,” Faramond said suddenly.

  The group stopped, all eyes turning to the tribal king.

  “My people are scattered in a hostile land. I spoke with Rusay. He has heard the news that tribes have been raiding and pillaging in the west. I need to find them, and stop them.”

  Ferran trotted his horse over to Faramond. “I understand. Do you know where to start looking?”

  Faramond nodded. “Rusay said that there is a trail of burning villages all along the western coast. He seemed to think that they were heading to a place called Blackmoor.”

  At hearing the name of the tribes’ suspected destination, Ferran shook his head. If the tribes truly were intent on heading to the city of Blackmoor then first they would have to cross the Black Mar
sh and then the moors. They were regions infested with Fell Beasts and other foul creatures. Faramond’s people would suffer heavy casualties; and then there was the matter of the Baron of Blackmoor. Ferran hadn’t seen his father since he was a small boy, but he knew the man’s reputation. His army was one of the most deadly and professional in the realm; it had to be to keep the monsters and savage tribes that lived on the city’s doorstep at bay. The ragtag army of tribal folk would be slaughtered if they faced Blackmoor in battle.

  “You have to stop them before they reach moor. If they try to cross, then they will fall prey to the Fell Beasts that roam it. Try to stop the pillaging; we need every able body we can find to fight Danon.” He reached into one of the pouches on his belt and took out a scroll. “This map should help you.”

  Faramond took it and tucked into his saddlebags.

  “I will do what I can. Good luck with your mission. It has been an honour fighting at your sides.”

  With that, Faramond waved his goodbyes to the others and galloped south. Ferran watched him go until he disappeared from view.

  “Looks like it’s just the three of us now,” Sophia said softly as she trotted her horse over to her husband. She reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Ferran nodded before spurring his mount forward. They had a three day ride ahead of them before they would reach the capital.

  With Ricard in the field and Alderlade imprisoned, that left Archbishop Trentian to oversee the administration of the city. With his increasing rhetoric against magic users, no one with the gift was safe from his zealots.

  12.

  Priory of Niveren, Lake Sumil

  Kaiden lowered the spyglass from his eye and passed it to Thrift, who was lying in the long grass beside him.