Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools wt-2 Read online

  Pael had recently used Pavreal’s Seal to call Shokin back into the world, but something had gone wrong. Shokin was torn in half when Pael’s sacrifice wouldn’t die. Shaella’s lover, Gerard, had been that sacrifice. He crawled down into the Nethers with half of Shokin’s essence clinging to existence inside his mind. The other half of the demon filled Pael with the very power that eventually brought about his demise. Gerard’s older brother, had somehow forced the demon out of Pael and back into the Seal, thus condemning his sibling to the horror of the darkness forever. Or had he? Now both halves of Shokin had rejoined in Gerard. Gerard held them apart, and kept them from taking over his mind with the fiery will that burned deep inside him. When he had been at death’s door, alone and in the Nethers, he had eaten the yolk of one of the dragon’s eggs he had stolen. It changed him completely. More dragon-beast than man now, and with the two powerful halves of Shokin bickering in his brain constantly, he fought every day to stay alive, trapped in the demon-filled darkness.

  Gerard was still weak, but he was growing stronger and was starting to tap Shokin’s power and knowledge. He had gleaned from the demon that Shokin had once used the Silver Skull of Zorellin to breach the Nethers. Shaella found an entry in a diary from her father’s library about the artifact. A raving mad man who’d been abandoned on an island by the brutal pirate Barnacle Bones had spouted on and on about a silver skull that conjured forth a demon wind that would carry the pirate anywhere he wanted to go. After leaving the man, Barnacle Bones was never seen or heard from again. He never made port with his treasure. Shaella had searched and searched for a clue to its location, but she found nothing. The fact that Gerard’s brother, Hyden Hawk, was going on a mysterious quest for pirate treasure could mean only one thing, though. He too was after the Silver Skull.

  Already, Flick was manning a party and a ship to track down Hyden’s group and take the skull. With the finding stone hidden on Hyden Hawk’s ship it would be impossible for them to get away. With a few words and a sparrow’s heart she, or Flick, could cast a spell that would reveal the exact location of the finding stone.

  Flick was a capable wizard. Once one of her father’s apprentices, he was loyal to Shaella’s cause and always eager to please her. The two breed giants he had chosen to accompany him on his mission, Drolz and Varch were both fierce fighters. The zard called Slake was a most competent captain. He had pirated several barges full of weapons and supplies that had been instrumental in Shaella’s taking of Westland. He was highly feared and regarded among his kind. The mixed crew of his sleek ship, Slither, were loyal and tested. As soon as Hyden Hawk found the skull, they would help Flick take it from him.

  With those thoughts on her mind she rang a bell to summon her zardess attendant, Fslandra. A moment later the door to her chamber crept open and the young lizard-girl stepped in and bowed with a hiss.

  “How may I serves yous?” she asked.

  “Find Cole, and have him meet me by the turn of a glass in the old gathering hall, the one with the map table in it.” As she gave the order she rose to her feet, went to a closet and began searching for a particular garment. “And Fslandra,” she called out as the lizard-girl’s tail flitted out the door. “Have Lady Able fetch me up a hot bath immediately.”

  “Yes Mastress,” came the fading reply.

  It entertained Shaella deeply to watch the Lady Able carrying bucket after bucket of hot water up all those stairs. It thrilled her even more when she made the high born woman wash her naked body. It wasn’t the sexuality of it. It was the disgust and contempt that radiated off the woman as she lathered the rags with scented soap, and the way Lady Able had to clinch her bottom lip in her teeth to remind herself not to scrub too hard; the way her entire upper body glowed red with a mixture of embarrassment, anger and shame as she toweled Shaella dry.

  Before Shaella took Westland, Lady Able had been waited on hand and foot in the luxury of her husband’s stronghold. She’d been the ruler of her roost, so to speak, and had never kept less than three personal attendants. In her day she had humiliated, overworked, and disrespected at least half a hundred young servant girls. She’d made the mistake of demanding that she be treated like a high born lady in front of Queen Shaella’s entire court.

  “I will treat you exactly how you treated all those ladies that served you,” Shaella said. Then she added, “Now go fetch me a tray of fruit from the kitchens and be sure not to meet the master chef’s eyes.”

  As a queen, Shaella was merciless, cleverly ruthless in her punishments, and more than a little dark in her deeds, but no one could say that she was unjust. She showed no favoritism to the zard-men, the breed giants, or the humans. High born, or low, covered in scales and hatched from an egg, or birthed from a mother’s womb meant nothing to her. A person was judged and rewarded or punished by their actions alone. The common folk had seemingly accepted her after she’d flown on her dragon’s back over Portsmouth and Crossington and driven the savage breed giants out of the streets and back into line. Little did those people know that she had sent the breed to terrorize them in the first place. When she began knocking the Westland nobles, who hadn’t escaped, off of their pedestals, some of the commoners began to really like her.

  During King Glendar’s short and brutal stint as the king of Westland, he had rounded up nearly every able bodied man and boy and marched them off to their eventual deaths. Before he’d done that, he had decorated the bailey yards of Lakeside Castle with the piked heads of hundreds of men-Westland men. Suspected conspirators, men so loyal to his father that they tried to oppose his succession to the throne, even the common gossipers who whispered the wrong thing in the wrong ear, ended up with their heads displayed on pikes. The good people of Westland had been scared to death, and rightly so.

  None of the people knew that Pael was Shaella’s father. Had they, they might not have been so accepting of her rule. The belief that it was Queen Willa’s Blacksword army, the Valleyans, and King Glendar’s evil that had taken away their husbands and sons was now prevalent. This played perfectly into Shaella’s hands because she had forbidden all trade with the Eastern Kingdoms, save for Dakahn. With all borders closed, the people were starting to feel safe again, especially since Queen Shaella was now publicly punishing the zard, and the breed, when they attacked any of the humans.

  As she made her way to the map-room to meet Cole, Shaella passed a group of young merchant-men in an open corridor. They all bowed graciously to her.

  “You’re looking radiant today, my queen,” one of them said as she moved past.

  When the men were long behind them, Shaella spoke. “Fslandra, do you think I look radiant?”

  The lizard-girl knew that Queen Shaella was mocking the young man, and she made a gurgling sound that passed for zardian laughter.

  Cole was waiting for her in the map room with a silver goblet in his hand. Cole was Flick’s brother, and both of them emulated Pael just a little too much. Shaella’s father had been their mentor and teacher, and they both kept their heads free of hair and their skin as ghostly white as Pael had. Cole was the eldest. He was taller and thinner than Flick, but not by much on either count. From a distance they could easily pass as twins. They had been instrumental in the taking of Westland, and in her heart Shaella considered them as her dearest friends.

  Cole started to bow to her but she waved it off. “We’re not in public, Cole. You know better.”

  “Just showing my queen her proper respect,” he replied evenly.

  “That’s enough, Cole.” She motioned for Fslandra to go. The lizard-girl shut the door behind her, leaving Shaella and Cole to themselves.

  The room was paneled in deeply varnished oak. Along one wall there were wine-rack shelves holding hundreds of rolled maps. The opposite wall was glazed and a grand view of Lion Lake spread out before them. Expertly etched into the surface of the great oval table that filled the room was a map of the continent and its kingdoms. Shaella deftly plucked the goblet from Cole’s hand
and sipped from it. She made a sour face then circled the map-table, studying it as she went.

  “I hope I didn’t disturb your day,” she said, “but the idea that struck me was too marvelous to contain.”

  “I’ve been dealing with reports about your Lord of Locar. It seems that Bzorch is bringing in Wildermont slaves to help build his watchtowers along the river.” Cole heaved a sigh of exasperation. “I’ve gone over seventeen different grievances concerning your pet breed giant’s conduct. Truthfully, I’m glad to be away from the mess.”

  “Seventeen is too many to ignore. I’ll set out for Locar myself with a troop of zard on the morrow and settle the matter. I don’t want slaves in Westland. Bzorch can pay his laborers like everyone else.”

  “You are the nicest evil sorceress queen I’ve ever met,” Cole jested. He was glad that the words Dragon Queen hadn’t slipped out of his mouth. Since she’d lost her dragon, Shaella hated the term. “Now what is this idea you can’t keep to yourself?”

  “I’m driving myself crazy waiting on the High King to attack us. He has to try to get his father’s kingdom back or no one will really follow him. What good is a king who cannot hold his own kingdom? The problem is that every day he waits, he gathers more allies.” Shaella hopped up, sat on the map-table and tapped Seaward City. “I want to provoke him, force him to come at us, before he gains too much.”

  “How do you want to do that?” Cole asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “He’s going to marry Princess Rosa soon,” Shaella grinned. “I say we find out if High King Mikahl has enough honor to come rescue a damsel in distress. I’d like you to go to Seaward and invite Princess Rosa here for a visit.” She gave Cole a sinister wink and chuckled deviously. “Well, maybe invite wasn’t quite the word I was looking for.”

  Chapter Seven

  Had to be that fargin dwarf, thought Hyden, as he darted to the bushes for the fifth or maybe the sixth time that afternoon. Phenilous wouldn’t dare betray me. Brady Culvert was a possible suspect as well, but not a likely one. The Wildermont guardsman’s sense of duty was second to none. Hyden knew that someone had betrayed him though. Someone had conspired with High King Mikahl to get the squat weed into his cup or his canteen. Maybe it was the wagon driver, or one of his two helpers; or was it someone else in the escort?

  “It’s like traveling with a wee little girl,” commented Oarly the dwarf from the top of his mule. His legs weren’t long enough to get around and over the back of a horse, so rather than teeter to and fro like a child’s toy, he chose a narrow-backed mule that his stumpy body could manage. On top of the hairy little man’s head was a pointy-topped, wide-brimmed hat that had long ago flopped over in the middle.

  “I have to admire King Mikahl’s mode of revenge. It’s… It’s…”

  Brady started to say “effective,” but the moaning grunt that Hyden Hawk made from the bushes on the roadside caused him to finish with the word “brutal,” instead.

  “I swear by the goddess that if I find out which one of you helped him,” Hyden called out breathlessly, “I will… I’ll… Ooh! Ah! Oooh! Blast you!” The wet sloppy sound that followed caused them all to make sour faces and urge the horses a bit further away.

  They were somewhere between Jenkanta and the High Port – Old Port split. They had crossed the Doon River the day before and camped at an often used cave called the Midway. They were on their way to Old Port to catch their ship and should have been beyond the split by now, but Hyden Hawk’s condition forced them to stop every few miles so that he could relieve himself.

  At first Hyden thought that he had eaten something that disagreed with him, but then he remembered Mikahl’s comment as they had said their goodbyes. “Take plenty of soil cloth,” the High King had joked with a stupid grin on his face. Hyden thought that he’d meant to take extra soil cloth for the sea voyage. He understood the jest all too well now. This was Mikahl’s revenge for Hyden displaying him naked before the Princess, and it was, as Brady put it, “brutal.”

  “Should we let the wagons run ahead?” the commander of their customary twenty man escort of Blacksword soldiers suggested to Brady from a discreet distance. “Captain Trant will want to load the gear and make ready. He likes to keep his schedules.”

  “Aye,” Hyden called from the roadside. “All of you go on. I’ll catch up to you.”

  “Escort the wagons on to port, Sergeant,” Brady said. “I’ll escort Hyden Hawk.”

  “I’m staying with Hyden too,” Phen said. His loyalty to Hyden, as well as his worry, showed plainly on his face.

  The sergeant spurred his horse away and spoke to the wagon master. The procession began forming back up and eventually started away.

  Oarly made no move to join them. As soon as the procession had moved on, he urged his mule toward the clump of shrubs where Hyden was now standing to lace up his leather britches.

  “It was I who got ye,” Oarly confessed with a mixture of pride and shame. “By the order of the High King, mind ye.” He began rummaging through his pack and brought his stumpy arm out with a grin. “Here, eat it.” He offered Hyden a thumb sized dried vegetable that still had the stem attached to it. It was glossy black, like a polished stone. “It might burn a bit going in and out, but it’ll plug you up, if you know what I mean.”

  Hyden studied the dwarf’s eyes, which were on a level with his own since Oarly was still seated on his mule. It was hard to read the dwarf’s expression because his big silly looking hat shadowed most of his face. Hyden saw no malice or mischief in the squat man’s gaze though, so he took the offering and bit off a big piece. The heat of the pepper crept up on him as he was walking back to his horse. By the time he got there his entire head was glowing red and on fire. Sweat poured down his brow and his mouth felt blistered.

  “Ahh!” Hyden yelled. “Wah-er! Wah-er!” He walked, almost sprinting, over to Brady who was unshouldering his canteen. “Whaaat-er!”

  “It’ll only make it worse,” Oarly said with a grin, but it was too late.

  “AAHHHHH,” Hyden yelled as he guzzled water like a mad man. When it didn’t cool his mouth his eyes grew panicked and desperate. He made a pleading gesture with his hands. “AAHHH! AAHHH!” His eyes were squinted and watering. Water from Brady’s canteen was running down his chin and his head looked as if it might explode.

  By that time, even Brady and Phen were laughing.

  A few moments later, after he’d cooled off and mastered himself, Hyden Hawk summoned what dignity he had left and climbed back up into his saddle. Without a word, but with plenty of angry looks, he spurred his mount down the road.

  “What did High King Mikahl give you to do that?” Brady asked with genuine curiosity in his voice.

  “For slipping him the squat weed he gave me this.” Oarly reached his stumpy arm over his shoulder to his back and patted the handle of the wicked looking double-edged axe that was strapped there. “That cinder pepper I just gave him, though,” Oarly chuckled, “now that was me own gag.”

  “He’ll get you back, you know,” Phen boasted in Hyden’s defense. “He’ll get you back good!”

  “No lad,” the dwarf said with a confident smile on his hairy face. “After that cinder pepper works its way out of him, he’ll know better than to jest with the likes of me. Mark my words.”

  From Phen’s shoulder, Talon the hawkling cawed out his sharp disagreement with the dwarf.

  Oarly hadn’t lied. True to his word, the effects of the squat weed quickly dissipated. Nevertheless, Hyden kept them trotting a few hundred yards behind the wagons and the escort just in case.

  The land around them was green, but rocky. There were very few trees, but many clumps of shrubs and bushes dotted the landscape. They passed several herders whose large flocks of sheep and goats looked fat and healthy. After they took the Old Port branch of the ‘Y’ in the road, they began to see lively farms, and other humble dwellings out along the hills. It appeared that this part of the world hadn’t been touched by Pael�
��s madness.

  As they drew closer to the ocean, Hyden grew excited. He’d never seen the sea. Berda the giantess had told him and the clan folk many a tale about it. The last few nights, at the fire, Hyden and Phen had taken turns reading from a book about tides and the moon’s other effects on the ocean. This only made Hyden want to see the splendor of the sea that much more. Before he could see or hear the water, though, he could taste the salt in the air. As soon as he did, he sent Talon ahead to explore. With his eyes clenched shut, he watched as the world passed below through the hawkling’s razor keen vision.

  The road wound its way down among the sloping hills into a long stretched conglomeration of gray topped roofs and crowded, narrow cobbled streets. It extended southward farther than Talon could see at his present height. Hyden sent the hawkling rising in an upward circle, using the warmer air reflected off the rooftops until it was all well below him. Hyden saw through Talon’s eyes that they were starting out onto a finger-like peninsula that extended a good distance into the gray-blue ocean. The road went the length of the finger, with smaller dirt and cobbled lanes cutting across it toward the white rolling shores. Ships, boats, skiffs and trawlers lined the myriad docks that extended from the western side of the formation. To the east, the finger was open and a fat dark gray line separated sea from shore. As Talon swooped lower Hyden saw that it was a crude wall made of granite blocks. Rolling white-capped waves crashed into it, sending up huge explosions of foam and spray. Gray and white gulls were everywhere calling and shrieking and diving on schools of baitfish. They scattered when Talon soared past.